Vainglory 3.45 - Before the Worst Happens

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-Plum

45 – Before the Worst Happens

The party was quiet as they descended the winding stone steps into the cold, dark, and damp depths of the great caverns beneath Ordo Caelus. Of course, Ward knew nothing of the caverns or their extensive nature, but as they’d passed beyond the hewn, polished marble section of the stairwell, into the hard, rough-carved limestone, True had muttered into his ear, “Some say these tunnels and caverns are where the old ones took shelter from dragons back in the day.”

Since then, his mind had been musing about ancient days when fantastic beasts ruled Primus and the “old ones” were young. It made for an entertaining flight of fancy, and got him wondering how much the Vainglory System had changed as those ancient people began to master the words of power and their effects on the currents of mana. His thoughts were brought back to the present, though, when another wave of urgent anxiety washed over him and his wolf threatened to break free from the shackles of his willpower and claw its way to the surface.

“Are you okay?” Haley whispered.

Ward shook his head. “Both my bloodlines are fighting every step I take.”

The stairwell had grown massive—a great open shaft around which the stone steps wound their way down. The only lights were those that some of the wardens and mercenaries carried. Ward peered over the edge, into the chasm of darkness, and his wolfen eyes picked out a faint glimmer below—a lantern. Looking up, he gauged their descent at about halfway done.

“I can see a light down there,” Haley whispered, her eyes bright in the gloom.

Ward nodded, but True, behind them, asked, “How far, lassie?”

“I don’t know… maybe a few hundred feet.”

“Damn my eyes,” True groaned. “They weren’t lying about how deep these damn caves go.”

Ward peered ahead, past three other wardens and the two lycan swordsmen, to where Marie walked just behind Pallishae. Their eyes were brilliant in the dark. He glanced over his shoulder at True and, behind her, Lali and all the other wardens and mercenaries. He knew that, at the very back, blending with the shadows even better than his wolf could, Master Rose was bringing up the rear.

Another wave of near-panic washed over him, and he felt like something terrible was just about to happen. He wasn’t sure what made him decide to act on it all of a sudden, but he roared, “Get down! Grab the wall!”

Most everyone looked at him in puzzlement, but Ward didn’t stop to try to convince them. He snatched Haley’s wrist and dragged her down to the rough steps, pressing himself as close to the wall as he could. She didn’t struggle; she’d just hunkered against his shoulder when the earth began to shake again.

A tremendous crack echoed through the great stairwell, and Ward knew the bedrock had split somewhere. He just hoped it wasn’t bad enough that the whole damn thing collapsed. The stone underneath him bucked and shivered, but he held on, keeping his gravity low. Haley was unmoved, too, as agile as she was. Some of the others, though, were screaming and cursing, and a few seconds into the quake, a horrified howling cry echoed above the noise as someone fell.

Ten seconds later, it was over, and Ward shakily stood on the steps and brushed the stone dust off his shoulders and out of his hair. One of the marshals’ commanders yelled over the cursing, moaning mercenaries, “Who fell? How many?”

Another voice echoed down from the back of the line. “One! Vevorian!”

“Damn me,” True muttered. “I knew him.”

Ward nodded, looking up to lock eyes with her. “Sorry about that, True.”

“How’d you know?” Lali asked, grunting as she kicked a loose stone off the edge of the steps.

Ward watched it tumble out of sight, then answered, “My bloodline, I guess. I can feel this shit coming. You don’t want to know what I feel like doing right now.” Pointedly, he looked up the shaft, then he turned and started descending again. “Let’s move before this whole damn place comes down on us.”

Apparently, the people ahead of him were in agreement because they began to descend again rapidly. The party was even quieter than before, as though their voices might set off the next quake. Meanwhile, Ward was trying to figure out how many minutes had passed since the first earthquake. It had to be more than an hour, didn’t it? They’d hurried through town, but traffic had been bad. Then they’d wasted time going through the building, dealing with the chain, and climbing halfway down… “Must be even more than an hour.”

To his surprise, despite the many people in the assault force who might be able to see her, Grace appeared before him and asked, “Since the last quake? Seventy-four minutes.”

Ward nodded. “Good. Hopefully, the next seal takes just as long.”

Grace nodded and, before disappearing again, said, “Hopefully you aren’t two hours' walk from the seals.”

Ward scowled and continued down. When they reached the bottom and a great, vaulted tunnel led deep into darkness, he hurried forward to walk beside Pallishae and Marie. “How far?”

Pallishae looked at him, staring into his eyes. “Do you sense another—”

“Nothing like that quake—not yet. But, if it takes them the same amount of time, we’ve got about an hour before it happens again.”

The strange alien in a human woman’s body nodded slowly. “If they open another seal, this cavern may come down. The leviathan’s rage has simmered for centuries.”

“Let’s move then, because right now, my guts are telling me we’re all as good as dead,” Ward growled.

Pallishae nodded and, in Gwen’s strident voice, called out a short word of power and threw her arm upward. A globe of brilliant light erupted from her outstretched fingers and flew toward the cavernous ceiling, illuminating the vast, gallery-like corridor for a thousand feet. A low growl escaped Ward’s chest when he saw the figures slinking out of their hiding spaces, approaching them. There were twenty or so, and they might once have been human, but now they were twisted, monstrous things like the demon-infested cultists Ward had fought back in Westview.

“Ware!” one of the Warden’s shouted, and the first crack of an alchemical rifle signaled the start of a melee straight out of a nightmare.

Ward ripped his sword out of its scabbard and lowered his center of gravity, watching the enemies approach while guns exploded left and right—Crack! Boom! Ffzzzap!—and then Marie shouted words of power that made even Ward’s ears ring and sent flashes of blinding white into his retinas. When he opened his eyes, he saw a ball of fire the size of a minivan roiling through the air, crackling and whooshing until it exploded into a cluster of the demon-possessed attackers, utterly engulfing them in red, liquid-looking flames.

Then the first line was on them, and Ward had to fight for his life, and he lost focus on everyone else’s actions. A woman who’d grown two extra arms from the tops of her shoulders faced him with a wide mouth filled with fangs. Her arms were black and chitinous, twice the length of a normal human’s, and she slashed out at him with their three, claw-tipped digits.

Ward’s sword was ready, and he parried, sidestepped, then hacked at a downward angle, cutting a bloody groove in the woman’s side. Her arms and fangs weren’t the only things about her that had changed, though; she was taller than normal, and her flesh was thick like leather. When Ward’s sword cut her, it didn’t go deep, and she whirled, hacking both her hands at him in downward swipes.

Ward blocked her with his left arm, grunting in pain and fury as her claws dug into the bone, but then he drove his sword in a vicious thrust, catching her right beneath her breastbone. She screamed and snapped her jaws at his face. He twisted his sword and threw her back, ripping the blade free in a shower of dark ichor. Two more charged to take her place as she fell, but then Master Rose entered the fray.

She flew past Ward like a smokey shadow cut loose from its mortal bindings, and when she passed between the two demonic, twisted figures, they both flew to either side. One fell, flailing at a burning handprint on his chest, and the other turned black and crumbled like a burned-up charcoal briquette; the bits and pieces of him smoked like a grease fire. Rose had barely come into focus, resolving out of her speed-blurred movements, when she was gone again, streaking away—a creature of smoke and fire.

“Blood and bones,” Lali said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “That girl can move.”

Ward nodded, watching the pitched battles taking place all over the cavernous hall. Haley pummeled another demonic woman to the ground. Marie and Pallishae, barking harsh, echoing words of power, took apart another half dozen further ahead. At the same time, the mercenaries and wardens fought in small groups, back to back, hacking swords and axes and firing their artificed, magical firearms. He felt like he ought to join a fight, but they were all resolving as he watched.

“There we go,” Lali said, pointing to a pair of mercenaries who were losing, driven back by a trio of monstrous men. Ward grunted, following her forward and lifting his sword. They slammed into the demons’ flank. Ward crashed his sword through a collarbone, and Lali caved in a skull with her mace, and then the retreating mercenaries got back into the fight. Between the four of them, they punished the demons enough to bypass even their magical healing and resilience to pain.

When Ward stood, heaving, over a bloody, dismembered body, he looked up and took stock once again. The battle was all but over, and he watched as Rose, limned in flickering green-blue flames, annihilated another three demon-possessed fighters. She darted between them, and each blow she struck crackled with white-hot intensity. Apparently, she’d built up her “fire.” Ward almost felt sorry for her foes as she took them apart; it was like they were practice dummies.

When it was over, Ward jogged forward to Pallishae, and so did everyone else. He didn’t have to count who had been hurt or killed; one of the wardens, a tall man with a salt and pepper goatee, growled, “How many we lose?”

“Three,” True replied, striding up from the back. “Two dead and one who’s gonna need a new leg—mercenaries all.”

“Damn it!” Marie’s wererat henchman said, pounding a fist against his thigh as he looked around.

“We got off easy,” Ward growled. “If it weren’t for the sorcerers and Master Rose, we’d still be fighting tooth and nail!”

“So? We should be happy we’re getting picked off in twos and threes?”

“Romy,” Marie said, pushing past a trio of wardens. “The city’s at stake—”

“More than that,” Ward said, struggling to keep the wolf out of his voice.

The older warden nodded, scratching his rough beard. “Right. We need to keep moving. Anyone whose intestinal fortitude failed to survive this encounter should go ahead and leave. I’m sure there’s more hell coming our way.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but waved his men and women forward.

Ward happened to agree with the man, so he nodded and followed along, his bloodied blade still gripped in his hand. Some of the mercenaries hung back, bickering in hushed voices, but everyone else started walking again, and Pallishae hurried to the front of the line.

“We should see another passage to the south soon. If I recall the memories of my vile echo correctly, it will be sealed with an iron door not unlike the one at the top of the stairs.”

“I will bypass it,” Rose replied, still limned in flickering blue-green flames.

“Thank you, Grand Master,” Pallishae replied, and Ward wondered at that. Was her talent so discernable? Obviously, she was deadly skilled, but why “grand”? He tried to catch Haley’s eye, but she was busily peering into the nooks and crannies of the vast passage.

“Good girl,” he muttered. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the rest of the mercenaries were hurrying to catch up.

When they came to the passage in question, Pallishae’s memory proved correct; it was sealed with a heavy rune-inscribed metallic door. It looked like something you’d find on a bank vault in the Old West to Ward.

When everyone stopped, Rose stepped to the front and stood before the door, hands pressed together. “This will deplete my fire, but I’ll rekindle soon enough.” She didn’t wait for any response or comment. She inhaled deeply, drew her right arm back, and then stepped into a perfect strike, using every muscle in her body to deliver the force of the blow. Her palm struck the center of the metal door, and it rang like a great cathedral bell.

At first, Ward thought she’d misjudged her strength—or the strength of the door—but then, spreading outward from her palm, a spider’s web of glowing, yellow-white lines wormed their way through the metal. They sizzled and hissed, and Ward realized they were burning fissures in the metal. They spread out like hundreds of tiny fault lines all the way to the edge of the metal. When Rose stepped back, the many broken pieces of the door collapsed in a grinding, clanging clamor.

“Blood and bones,” Lali said for the second time. “Remind me not to take bacon off that beauty’s plate.”

Rose darted over the piled of metal, and so did Haley. Everyone else took longer, struggling to traverse the shifting, unstable, and hot pile. On the other side, Ward hurried forward to where Rose and Haley waited, scanning the passage ahead. They were in a tunnel much like the previous one, only it was about half the size, and the upper reaches were narrower and filled with rock formations.

“It’s not much further now,” Pallishae announced, striding past the three of them. Marie was close behind, and the rest of them hurried after. “I grow hopeful that we’ll reach them before the third seal is breached.”

“Ah dammit, man,” Ward groaned. “Ever heard of a jinx, Pallishae?”

“A jinx?”

“Forget it—”

As he spoke, a deep, resonant voice roared from behind them, “Vrahl, survak, talshen!” The words were violent and angry, and Ward felt them smash into his ears and rattle his bones as they echoed off the stone walls.

“Get down!” Marie shrieked.

Ward didn’t need to be told twice. He hit the deck, just as a wave of hot air washed over him. It felt a lot like opening an oven that had been baking all day to check on the roast, only on a much larger scale. Several people screamed briefly, and when the heat wave rolled past, Ward sprang to his feet, looking toward the source of the sorcerous voice. Most of the wardens and mercenaries behind him were on the ground, and, in the far back, he saw half a dozen or so smoldering corpses.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, and that’s when the sorcerer stepped out from behind a jagged outcropping on the right-hand side of the passage. He was tall and wiry, wearing black robes, and holding a glowing crystal that reminded Ward a lot of the one he’d taken from Thrund’s hotel room. More importantly, the man had blazing orange-red eyes deeply set into his hairless skull. He opened his mouth, and the first harsh syllable of a word of power came through those twisted, wormy lips.

Ward didn’t think. He knew he couldn’t match the man’s power, but he couldn’t match Marie’s either, and his Chains of Silence had worked on her. He just had to get his spell off before the sorcerer cast his. “Trahl, Vrothun—”

He almost did it. His final word was on the tip of his tongue when the sorcerer’s resounding voice stopped echoing, and his spell took form: the shadows gathered around him, then split into a hundred inky black knives. They exploded away from him, streaking toward Ward and the surviving members of his party. The last of the mercenaries, a man and woman who’d barely avoided the fiery deaths of their comrades, were the first to feel those dark knives. Everyone else had a chance to try to block or dive back to the ground.

Ward chose to finish his spell “…Slenvek!” He threw up his arms as he said the word, trying to protect his face and neck, and then pain like ice-cold needles erupted on his forearm, his stomach, and his left leg above his knee. Half a dozen voices rose in a chorus of screams, and then a flickering specter of smoke and heat flew past Ward. He watched as Rose materialized out of the smoke and laid into the sorcerer, who was grasping his throat, eyes panicked.

“Got you, fucker!” Ward growled. While Rose killed the mute spell caster, Ward turned his arm, looking at the wound. The shadowy knife was slowly dissolving, but the flesh where it had stuck was blue with frost. “Damn,” he grunted, trying to pull it out with his other hand.

“Entropy knives,” Marie hissed, coming to stand beside him.

Ward looked at her, wide-eyed. “What’s that mean?”

“They steal the energy from your flesh. With your lycan…fortitude, you’ll likely recover.” She glanced at the two mercenaries and three wardens with similar wounds. “I’m not so confident about their chances.”

“Stand aside,” Pallishae said, hurrying past. “I know healing words.”

“Ah!” Marie grabbed Ward’s arm, squeezing. “We’re in luck. A rare talent, indeed.”

Ward nodded and watched as the other wardens moved back to help their friends, passing out healing tonics and comforting words in equal measure. The tonics seemed to help with the pain, but it wasn’t until Pallishae put his hands on them and muttered soft words of power that the wounds began to heal. His, on the other hand, began to mend as soon as the shadowy blades fully dissolved.

While he watched, Grace appeared and grabbed his other arm—Marie still held his wounded one. “Look, Ward.” She pointed to where Rose had pummeled the other sorcerer into oblivion. “Do you see anything?”

“Mana,” Ward replied, eyeing the swirling swarm of tiny blue motes.

“Ah!” Marie followed his gaze. “You’re right.”

“I hoped so!” Grace said, breathlessly. “That guy was a sorcerer, Ward! That means—”

“I might be able to get some anima out of him.”

It didn’t surprise him that Rose drifted out of the shadows to stand among them. “Did you see the anima gathering near yonder corpse, Ward?” When he nodded, she said, “Gather it quickly. Better that your soul can move on if the worst happens.”

Marie nodded, squeezing his arm before letting go. “Yes, Ward. Gather it.”

“Right,” Ward sighed, measuring the clawing, desperate anxiety that was eating away at his guts. “Before the worst happens.”