BT II - Chapter 26 (Patreon)

Micah dodged backward, avoiding a line of rainbow light a half second before a Luoca’s tail slashed through the air, shattering rocks of the dungeon floor.  He darted in, spear leading the way and claiming one of the monster’s human eyes.

It screamed insensibly, razor sharp wings cutting through the air a half inch above Micah’s head as he ducked just enough.  The wind of the attack’s passage ruffled his hair as he finished casting explosive thicket, letting the spell savage the daemon’s chitinous underside.

The Luoca stumbled, insect-like legs trembling as ichor dripped from its belly, hissing and eroding the stone floor of the dungeon.  Micah didn’t give it a moment to catch its breath, sliding toward its left flank as he lashed out with a flurry of jabs.

His spearhead, following the multicolored guidance of foresight, found the joints of the Luoca’s wings, chipping and shattering bone.  The daemon’s thick blood spattered from the wounds as the creature’s wing slumped to its side, unusable.

It reared back, stabbing at Micah with its razor sharp front legs.  The attacks were a blur, moving so quickly that even with the pre-images from foresight Micah wasn’t able to dodge all of them.  One barbed spike leg went straight through his left bicep, a rod of red hot pain even as Micah closed the distance and stabbed his spear through one of the cracks left in the daemon’s armor by his previous spell.

The weapon sank deep into the monster, punching through soft pseudo-organs and bone-like cartilage until the spear-head thumped into its back chitin.  Ignoring the pain, Micah released his spear, reaching up with his right hand and grasping the Luoca leg impaling him.

With a grunt and a twist of his body, he snapped the brittle leg, leaving little more than a stump that sprayed reality eroding blood.  The daemon teetered for a half-second before Micah slammed into it, knocking the monster onto its side and sending it skidding across the chamber with the force of a blow from his shoulder.

Across the room, Trevor gracefully jumped over it, letting the sliding daemon take out an Onkert at the knees.  The ape-like creature fell to the ground only for Trevor to land on its chest, gouging out its now unprotected throat with a single stab from his spear.

Micah rushed past him, gritting his teeth as he ripped the Luoca’s spike-leg from his arm.  Blood gushed from the wound, but almost immediately,  regeneration went to work, stitching together damaged muscles and beginning the process of healing over the torn skin that flapped freely around the gaping wound.

He ducked to the side, parrying the Luoca’s tail as he muttered the words to a spell.  It tried to stand up on its five remaining legs, blood leaking out from around the spear still lodged in its stomach.  The attempt earned it a kick from Micah, the toes of his shoe slamming into the human head’s chin and snapping it backward.

It fell to the ground, stunned by the attack, giving Micah enough time to finish casting binding vines.  Roots, each as thick around as his thigh, burst from the walls and floor of the dungeon, wrapping themselves around the daemon and squeezing tight.  They pulsed once, trying to squeeze the breath from the unnatural creature like an anaconda or a python.

Micah ignored the ineffectual attack, gripping the spike tight in his right hand as he stepped past a frantic swing of the daemon’s tail.  Against a living being, binding vines might be enough to slay it on its own, but daemons had no need to eat or breathe.  They might do those things to create a crude mockery of life, but the Luoca needed neither to survive.  All it truly required was enough sacrificial energy to keep it rooted to Karell.

With his weak left hand, he fired a volley of air knives, each spell barely drawing a trickle of the Luoca’s thick blood as they battered and cracked its chitin, but they kept it distracted, off-balance, and unable to break free of the vines clinging to it.

His knee slammed into the side of its human head, pinning the daemon’s face to the ground for a fraction of a second before Micah slammed its pointed leg through the bottom of its chin, piercing what passed for the daemon’s brain before its gore-soaked tip sprang through the top of the creature’s head.  It shuddered once, its remaining eye going blank, before slumping, dead and limp on the dungeon floor.

Micah stood up, planting his right foot on the creature’s underside.  He gripped his spear with his good hand, ripping it free from the daemon’s body as the summoned creature began to disappear, fading back into Elsewhere.  The stones where it had been laying were blurred, the reality distorting aura of the daemon having melted them slightly, smoothing the rough surface of the rock.

Cautiously he tested his left arm.  It was still a little tender, but regeneration had restored enough of its structural integrity that he could use it without risking further injury.  Satisfied, he turned to the rest of the battle.

Eris and Esther were fighting an Onkert together.  Micah nodded in approval as he watched their seamless teamwork.  One moment Esther would be holding the Onkert at bay with a flurry of spear thrusts while Eris hacked away at the daemon’s thigh and side.  When it took a swipe at Eris, the young woman moved back smoothly, the water aspect of her martial art letting her almost flow around the gorilla’s fist.

Almost at the same time, Esther thrust upward, burying her spear into the daemon’s armpit while an arrow sprouted from its upper chest.  It snarled, spinning away from Eris to deal with Esther once more only to earn itself a pair of sword slashes across its hamstring.  The Onkert stumbled, giving Esther enough time to shuffle backward, well out of the monster’s reach.

Leeka shot him a quick nod and a thumbs up as she drew back another arrow, waiting for the right moment in the two fighters’ dance to shoot the Onkert once again.  Some ten paces away from her, next to a fading Onkert corpse covered in slashes and at least a half dozen arrows, Telivern held another daemon at bay, lunging at it with its razor sharp horns every time the creature tried to turn its attention from the stag.

Meanwhile, Ravi circled around the side, wings folded at her side as she darted in, ripping out chunks of fur-covered flesh before scampering away.  They hadn’t killed their Onkert yet, but both of the animals looked fresh, their fighting style keeping either of them from taking serious attacks.

With a wave of Micah’s hand and a muttered word, he launched a pressure spear into the daemon’s side.  The spell drilled deep into the monster, snapping ribs and pulping the pulsing eldritch abominations that passed for its organs.  It stumbled, only for Ravi to leap onto its back, sinking her fangs into its neck while her claws ripped great strips of fur and skin from its body.

A wordless scream from Trevor drew Micah’s attention to the other end of the chamber where Drekt was standing tall, swinging his cleaver downward in a double handed grip toward an Onkert.  Before the blow could land, a second Onkert punched him in the side, scuffing Drekt’s armor and staggerin the huge man.

Before the daemon could take advantage of the moment, Trevor appeared in front of it in a blur of green mana and martial arts.  He set his spear butt into the uneven floor of the dungeon, angling it upward toward the gorilla’s chest and letting the creature impale itself.

The daemon coughed up blood, staring down at the hole in its chest in confusion.  Trevor quickly shouted the words to air knife, driving the spell into the confused monster’s eye.  It staggered backward, sliding off of the spear and freeing Trevor up to stab it again, this time driving the point of his weapon into the daemon’s throat.

To Trevor’s side, Drekt grunted, swinging his cleaver downward with enough force to cave in the remaining Onkert’s chest.  The blade ravaged fur and flesh, crushing bones and laying the daemon’s pulsing insides bare as it collapsed to the floor, dissipating as the power that kept it tied to Karell began to fade.

Almost at the same time, Leeka buried an arrow in the final Onkert’s eye.  A half second later, Eris hamstrung it, dropping the bleeding and crippled creature.  Micah nodded in satisfaction, scanning the room one more time to ensure that there were no hidden threats lying in wait.

Anne popped out from the entrance to the room, glancing around at the fading daemon corpses before walking hesitantly in.  She smiled weakly at Micah before speaking up.

“This should be the final room, unless the Pontiff increased his security.  I remember the giant bug monster being the final guard before the room where he set up his command center.”

“What can we expect in the next room?”  Micah asked, nodding toward the heavy stone door built into the far wall.  After years of delving, he recognized it’s solid build and the designs carved into it.  What should be on the other side of the door was a boss chamber.

“The Pontiff,” Anne replied with a shrug.  “I’m sure he has enchantments or traps, but I don’t have any idea what they would look like.  No one was foolish enough to pick a fight with him, and he always sent a bishop or an enforcer squad to do his dirty work.  Everyone heard rumors about how powerful he was, but no one actually knew for sure.”

“So we’re going in blind,” Trevor said cheerfully as he walked over to the two of them.  “That sounds swell.”

Micah sighed, reaching up with his thumb and index fingers to massage his temples.

“Just be careful Trevor,” Micah responded.  “I haven’t had a chance to make any enchanted equipment for the rest of the party.  If you struggled to deal with soul attacks from a bishop, I’m sure the Pontiff has some spells up his sleeves that could wipe you out entirely.  I’d appreciate support from you and Drekt, but at the same time, you’re going to need to let me take the lead.”

“I know the drill,” Trevor said with a chuckle.  “You load yourself down with spells until the rest of us can barely see you when you move and we run interference.”

“Take this seriously honey,” Drekt cut in, gently putting a massive mit on Trevor’s shoulder.  “I realize that the entire world is a game to you, but that attitude only works when we are fighting opponents we know to be weaker than us.  Right now, we both do not understand our opponents capabilities, and that opponent is significantly more powerful than our entire team combined.  I would be grateful if you emphasized caution over flippancy.”

Trevor patted his husband’s hand gently.  He didn’t say anything, but Micah saw the cloud flash through his eyes.  After years of working with Trevor, he knew that his brother used humor to distract from stressful situations and deflate tension.

Micah bit his tongue.  He’d been about to admonish Trevor as well, but it wouldn’t be helpful.  His brother had heard Drekt, and from the looks of things, the warning hadn’t even been necessary.  For all of his jokes and bluster, Trevor knew exactly what was at stake.

Instead of saying anything, Micah walked past the two men, placing the palm of his now healed left hand on the door.  Arcana tingled into his fingers through the thick stone.  He took one moment to make eye contact with the rest of his party, one at a time, to ensure that they were all ready.

Finally, Micah tensed his body and pushed the door open with all of his strength, practically tearing it from its hinges as it swung open, slamming into the dungeon wall.  Inside, the boss chamber was filled with furnishings crafted from a combination of human and monster bones.

A massive fire of dancing green flames occupied the center of the room, easily twice Micah’s height and casting bright, flickering light over the rest of the chamber.  Chairs made from monster ribs and femurs sat in front of a drafting and ritual table, crafted from more dubious ivory.  On the other side of the flame was a massive bed, heavy with monster pelts with a couch of similar construction at a slight angle next to it.

Leeka and Ravi bolted past Micah, an arrow half drawn on the woman’s bow as they searched the room for any threats.  A second or so later, she looked at Micah helplessly and shrugged.

He stepped further into the room, spear at the ready as he waited for something to happen.  Anything to happen.

After five long seconds where the only movement and sound came from the eerie pillar of flames in the center of the room, Micah spoke up, not taking his attention from the seemingly empty room.

“Anne, come on in here.  Unless your Pontiff started himself on fire, there’s no one here and we’re back to square one.”

“Fire?”  She asked, squirming past Drekt to get through the doorway, “there shouldn’t be-”

She stopped, eyes widening as she took in the pillar of green flame in the center of the room.  Her mouth widened into an ‘O’ of surprise as she stared at it.

“Well,” Anne finally said.  “That’s new.”

“Do you like it?”  A deep voice questioned, the fire writhing unnaturally.  “I really think it ties the entire room together.  A bit of a conversation starter.”

Micah took a step back, bringing his spear up into a defensive position as the fire morphed.  The flames twisted, forming a crude imitation of a man’s face leering down at him.  A flash of light had Micah diving behind cover as he whispered the words to foresight, but nothing happened.

When he looked back at the flames, the top arm span or so had changed colors from green to almost a pinkish red.  The head leered down at him, vaguely familiar and with a bemused expression on his face as he watched Micah scramble.

“It’s good to meet you again, Micah Silver.”  This time the fire’s voice didn’t boom.  Instead it was casual, almost conversational.  “I do prefer you from this vantage, unsure and jittery.  I can practically taste your uncertainty and fear.  It’s just a shame I couldn’t be there in person to reap your soul, but orders are orders.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”  Micah asked, stepping out from behind cover.  Foresight wasn’t warning him of any attacks, but he still didn’t completely lower his guard.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember me Micah,” the flames said with a chuckle.  “I was just another forgotten ant to you.  Insignificant and buzzing around your feet.  We only directly interacted once, but I can remember you looming over me, haughty and arrogant.”

“Still,” he continued, “from one perspective, I should probably thank you.  If it wasn’t for my helplessness and rage in that moment, I never would have met the third prince.  It came to me that night, whispering promises, and do you know what Micah?”

It stopped, leaving the question hanging in the air.  After about four seconds of silence, Micah gave in.

“What?”  He responded.

“The third prince didn’t lie!”  The voice crowed triumphantly.  “It told me exactly what was going to happen to Karell, and that it would give me powers that I could never dream of, and it did it.  I went from a life of dangerous manual labor to being so powerful that entire kingdoms tremble at my feet.  A snap of my fingers could destroy Jakint right now.”

“Despite all of that Micah,” the fire continued.  “I hate you.  With every fiber of my being, I hate you.  Even if you put on an act of graciousness, the way you’ve been showered with blessings and power since birth while I’ve had to sweat and suffer make you the paragon of this broken system.  You are the pinnacle of the gods’ mistakes.”

“Then why didn’t you stay to fight me?” Micah asked.  “If you’re so certain of your power, I’d be happy to arrange a fair fight.”

“Because the third prince doesn’t trust you,” the Pontiff replied.  “If I came back to fight you, there’s nothing that would stop you from sending your little friends ahead to collect the spoils from Dakkora’s tower while you held me up.  You already showed your willingness to abandon them when we sailed through the Serpent’s Teeth, and the prince doesn’t want me to make that mistake again.”

“I might not be happy with its reasoning,” he continued, “but leaving as soon as you captured one of my bishops was the right call.  Now I’m a week closer than you to the tower.  You’ll be hard pressed to catch up, and with the chaos I’m about to unleash in Jakint, there’s no way you’ll be able to find a guide to lead you through the Grass Sea.  You’ll be lucky if you make it through at all.”

“You knew about Dakkora’s tower?”  Micah cut in, frowning as he took a step toward the fire.  “That should have been between the gods and I.”

“Of course you were heading for Dakkora’s tower,” the Pontiff scoffed.  “That’s the only real reason for you to cross the ocean while the third prince gathers its power in Pereston.  All I need to do is secure the artifacts first and present them to the prince.  They’re your only chance of fighting it, and with the crown and the scepter in the prince’s hands, this entire futile struggle of yours is as good as over.  The only reason the prince gave me permission to contact you like this is that it delights in your despair.  It almost won once, and when you intervened, it took it personally.  That’s how we bonded really.  Over how much we wanted you, Micah Silver, to suffer as everything you’ve been given falls down around your ears, as the wine you drink turns to ash in your mouth, and the food you eat crumbles into maggots and decay.”

“It wants to destroy the world you know,” Micah blurted out desperately.  “The third prince doesn’t care about you or anything on Karell.  Its goal has always been to tear everything apart and return us to the primordial mists of Elsewhere.  If you follow this path you will die.”

“I know,” the flames replied blissfully.  “After years as a forgotten, release is a blessing greater than anything the gods have ever given to their chosen.  Goodbye Micah Silver.  I look forward to putting my boot on your neck when we next meet.”

Then fire winked out, plunging the dungeon into darkness.