September Short Story [The Typhon Beast's Lair]

Hey peeps!

Here is a short story (I posted half a few weeks ago, but it's all finished now!) and it deals with Liet's adventure into the Typhon Beast's lair!

I hope you all enjoy!

Shami

THE TYPHON BEAST LAIR

Eventide Short Story

Who would bond with the typhon beast?

Back when the world was new, and magic wild, the first god-arcanists were tasked with an epic quest. They needed to find a runestone, bring it to the god-creature’s lair, and then face a gauntlet of challenges. The Trial of Worth spanned the globe and required an experienced adventurer.

Gone were the times of confusion and myth. For better or worse, all the runestones were gathered, and the creatures were being located at a shockingly fast rate.

One after another, the god-creatures were finding their arcanists. This was an important decision, but we didn’t have time to give it too much thought. We couldn’t wait for an experienced adventurer to show themselves. We needed to brave the typhon beast’s lair nowand decide the arcanist later.

I stood just outside of Regal Heights, my breathing shallow. The canyon city was remarkably different than I how I remembered it. Progress had left its mark on the bridges, buildings, and arcanists here. They had multi-story fortresses made of stone, and bridges constructed of metal.

When I had visited this place decades ago, the stench of conflict still lingered on the air. The desert raiders, and the hydra arcanists who had turned traitor, had left scars on the city. I thought they would never heal.

But here we were—safe and welcomed. No scoundrels. No animosity.

Time changed everything.

“Liet?”

The voice traveled on the hot winds, washing past me with the breeze. Some silvery gray hairs fluttered into my face. I brushed them aside as I turned around.

Two men strode toward me, both strong and confident. Both grizzled.

Brom d’Tenni. The founder of Regal Heights. He was a desert lion. His gray hair, curly and untamed, framed his scarred face like a mane. His darkly tanned skin reminded me of goldstone—polished, powerful, sturdy.

Even though he had lost an eye centuries ago, it didn’t take away from Brom’s capability. It did take away a bit of his throwing accuracy, but I kept that comment to myself. I’d save it for a moment to tease him.

His arcanist mark, a seven-pointed star, also incorporated the form of a ten-headed hydra.

Brom’s eldrin wasn’t here, though. Hydras as old as Brom’s were much too large to go out adventuring. Instead, Brom’s eldrin remained in the breeding caves. Most hydras born in regal Heights were descended from his eldrin’s loins, including Hexa’s.

Brom nodded to me. “Liet. Are you prepared?”

“Always,” I said with a smile.

Brom didn’t wear an eyepatch. The messy scarred eye socket would’ve disturbed most, but I had seen worse. Brom’s confidence could be deduced from all his clothing decisions.

The other man…

I glanced over.

Vinder Akiona. The minister of Regal Heights. He reminded me of a monk. His bald head shone in the light. His beard, gray and thick, went all the way to the top of his stomach. Vinder stroked the long mess of hair, a small smile almost concealed, but not quite.

Unlike Brom, Vinder’s arcanist mark—a seven-pointed star with a gargoyle—glowed with inner power.

The same as mine.

Vinder was one of the few people who had unlocked their eldrin’s true form. It was often a difficult process, and most arcanists never achieved something so brilliant. Every mystical creature had its own requirements to unlock their true form, and the gargoyle’s was a mystery to me.

Vinder never told me the story.

And his gargoyle didn’t usually head out of the city during the day. It was an impressive beast, but gargoyles were nocturnal. They preferred the darkness and loathed the light. Hudson, Vinder’s gargoyle, wasn’t really needed—not today. The three of us would be more than enough.

“Liet,” Vinder said with a smirk. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait while Brom and I handle this?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Your eldrin is so far from here.” Vinder pointed to the distant horizon. “Gentel must be lonely. Can you even use your magic?”

I huffed a laugh. “You know I can. Gentel and I trained for a long time. We’ve been together for centuries.”

Vinder tugged his beard as he lifted an eyebrow. “But your powers must be weaker, yes?”

“Only slightly.”

Brom and Vinder exchanged glances. The two of them had been together almost as long as Gentel and me. They had their own special nonverbal language, and they discussed my weakness for a short moment before returning their attention to me.

“Well, if you think you can handle it, we should be goin’,” Brom said. He walked to my side, patted my shoulder, and offered a toothy grin. “This’ll be like the old days, won’t it, Liet? Adventurin’.”

“You’ve always been the sentimental type,” I said as we headed to Hydra’s Gorge.

The two men laughed.

We waited only a moment longer before three other individuals joined us. These were the three hopefuls who might have a chance with the typhoon beast. Two of them were unknown to me. A man and a woman. Both from Regal Heights and relatively young. According to Brom, they had attempted to bond with hydras, but for whatever reason, didn’t manage it.

What were their names? Brom had told me…

Jeela—she was a baker.

And Pyron—he was some sort of leatherworker.

The last man I knew well, though. It was William Savan, Volke’s adoptive father. He was as tall as any tree, wide all the way around, and clean shavin’ as most men with a naval background. He smiled when our gazes met.

“Liet,” he said. He carried a backpack of supplies and shielded his eyes with his cap.

“Stick close,” I said. “I’d hate for anything to happen to you. The world serpent arcanist would kill me.”

We shared a brief laugh.

But that was when Vinder motioned to the canyon. It was time to go. Every moment we wasted was just another moment the Second Ascension had to undermine us.

The gigantic canyon that split Regal Heights in two was impressive. Normally, it would be a difficult ordeal to descend into the fog-filled depths of the gorge. Fortunately, Volke Savan had thought of a solution to our problem. He had designed and built a staircase down to the bottom of the gorge, one carved into the very rock wall.

Vinder, Brom, the tree hopefuls, and I found the new stairway and started with the first step. It was a pathway made for giants, not normal men. Several smaller staircases were built into the side of each step, allowing for a normal person to make their way down all one hundred and twelve giant steps with ease.

“I never thought we needed a walkway,” Brom said as he dragged his calloused hands along the stone. He snorted and frowned. “The canyon is filled with death.”

“Those are just rumors,” I said.

Vinder patted his gut. “The fog at the bottom of the gorge is due to the ghostwood. And everyone knows ghostwood only grows on cursed land.”

Brom placed a hand on Vinder’s shoulder. He gently squeezed as he said, “That’s right. Vinder understands. This canyon is a graveyard. A wasteland of corpses.”

Such poetic language, and for what? I had seen landscapes painted crimson with blood. Ghostwood never sprouted among the gore there. But I wasn’t a botanist. I would never claim to understand how such accursed forests grew.

“Ghostwood is favored by all sorts of scoundrels,” William added. “Or anyone who loves their privacy.”

The ghostwood produced fog, even after it was cut. The magic was intense.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the bottom of the gorge.

The mists from the ghostwood forest greeted us with open arms. I inhaled deeply, disgusted by the stench of rot and decay. Volke had mentioned that the lair of the typhon beast was beyond a cloud of deadly gases. I believed him. Gases often escaped the world’s crust, and they hung low to the ground, often stuck in ditches and caves.

I held my coat tight. It hung beyond my knees and was a patchwork of colors and textures.

It wasn’t a normal garment. It was woven from the hide of mystical creatures—more than a dozen. Most were unaware, but my coat was an artifact of protection. It protected me from many dangers, including deadly vapors.

Brom and Vinder had assured me they had their own defenses, and that they not only carried trinkets for themselves, but had given a few minor trinkets to Willian, Jeela, and Pyron. That meant I didn’t have to worry for their safety. As a group of six, we strode forward. The echo of our boots carried down the canyon. The fog made everything dark, but not impossible to see.

My arcanist mark—along with Vinder’s—glittered in the dim lighting. Brom glanced between us a few times, his eyes darting to our glowing marks with blatant envy.

The three hopefuls were non-arcanists. I often wondered what it felt like for them in these situations. When I had been younger, my village had been attacked by… black-hearted men. I had thought I was going to die. The helplessness haunted my dreams at times and fueled my passion to protect people.

I hoped William and the other two weren’t filled with that same hopelessness. We would need them to be strong if they were going to submit themselves before one of the most powerful—and combat-oriented—god-creatures of them all.

We traveled for a while before reaching the typhon beast’s cave. Before we entered, Brom withdrew a bag from his pocket, and then dumped out a glowstone. The rock gave off a permanent glow, illuminating the area.

Then we entered the cave.

The smell of decay was the worst here.

Volke had mostly taken the corpse of the typhon beast out of this area. Some of it was unable to be moved, and its smell lingered. I held my nose all the way to the gigantic circular door etched with runes. I pulled the jasper runestone out of my pocket and held it close to the door. The runes sparkled and the door slid open on its own, the circular entrance rolling to the side.

Both Brom and Vinder gawked at the sight. William stood his ground while the other two huddled close to him. They had to be half his age. Neither of them was fearful, which was good, but I sometimes wondered if young teens were foolishly brave.

I glanced over my shoulder and motioned to the lair with a tilt of my head. “Brom, you haven’t gotten too old for a real adventure, have you?”

Brom crossed his massive arm. “Ha! I’m as strong as I was when we first met. Perhaps even stronger. No—definitelystronger.” He stormed forward, heading into the typhon beast’s lair.

Vinder stroked his long beard. He slid his gaze over to mine. “Brom is still young and strong… at heart.”

I chuckled. “And you?”

“I’m more experienced.”

“Oh? Is that what they call it nowadays? Experience?”

Vinder glanced down, his body a little larger than when I had known him. His arms were solid with muscle, teeming with strength, but his gut clearly hadn’t kept up. I suspected Vinder kept his beard to draw attention away from his soft middle.

I didn’t mind. I teased him by giving his stomach a questioning glance, but I only did it to feel young again. Brom and Vinder reminded me of our swashbuckling days, more than anyone else.

And I knew Vinder felt the same. He half-smiled, in no way bothered by my glance.

When he looked me up and down, I almost chuckled.

Although we hadn’t seen each other in years, it felt like no time had passed. Friendships like ours were rare, and I treasured them dearly.

“After you,” Vinder said, motioning to the typhon beast’s lair.

I tipped my tricorn cap and then turned to face the others. “You three wait here. We’ll come to get you once it’s all over.”

William frowned. “You don’t want us in there with you? We might not be able to fight, but we can solve puzzles with the best of them.”

“It won’t be necessary. And what did I just say? No one wants to explain to the Warlord why you were injured.”

“Feh.” William waved away the comment. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

“Keep that attitude up for the typhoon beast. I’m sure it’ll be appreciated.”

Then I headed inside. Vinder followed close behind.

For a long way, it was just a tunnel. A giant tunnel, but a tunnel nonetheless. The walls were rounded and smooth, and the floor was curved. And it all angled downward. As we traveled, mucus appeared across the rocks and along every surface. I accidentally touched the wall and jerked my hand away afterward, surprised by the slimy texture.

And it grew warmer. Almost hot. A strange temperature for deep underground and so far from the sun. Were we nearing an active volcano? No. Definitely not.

Brom carried his glowstone up ahead, the lantern-like shine enough for me to make my way forward. The light caused the mucus to glisten.

It felt like…

We were walking down a massive creature’s gullet as we made our way deeper and deeper underground.

Brom half-slipped and nearly fell.

“I got you,” Vinder cried out, his voice echoing.

He motioned his hand and the stones of the tunnel rearranged themselves in a near instant. His gargoyle magic—true form enhanced—was only second to Volke’s. He managed to manipulate the stone and rearrange it so that it was easier to walk across. Vinder even created groves into the once smooth walls, creating places to grab if we were about to slip.

Brom huffed as he straightened himself. “I don’t like this.”

“Do you want to turn back?” I asked, more teasing. “Perhaps the Trial of Worth for a god-arcanist isn’t for you.”

“Quite your words. I can handle any trial.”

Did Brom secretly want to become a god-arcanist? He never spoke ill of his eldrin. I shook the thought from my head. He was loyal to a fault.

“Look here.” Brom lifted the glowstone aloft. “It gets steeper.” The light shone on a slide-like pathway that went down at a harsh incline.

“That’s no problem,” Vinder grumbled.

He stepped forward and waved his hand a second time. But then nothing happened. The rocks didn’t answer his summons. They remained smooth and slide-like. In frustration, Vinder thrust his hand to the side.

Still, nothing.

“This is the lair of the typhon beast,” I whispered. “It’s likely immune to your magic.”

“What sort of cursed abyssal hells trick is this?”

“Volke spoke of something similar happening to him. And don’t you remember the doors? How people couldn’t teleport past them? I suspect these are defensive measures to make sure someone doesn’t rearrange the lair to make it easier.”

Brom and Vinder exchanged their knowing glances. After a short stretch of silence, they walked over the slide-like tunnel and glanced down. It was too dark to see the bottom.

I pulled my coat close around my body. It would protect me from a wide variety of danger. The tunnel didn’t frighten me.

With confidence, I strode past Brom and Vinder, and then carefully eased myself onto the slope. It was too inclined—and smooth—for me to slow my descent. The slow I started to slide, I picked up speed. With my jaw clenched, I braced myself for the bottom, my heart racing, and my magic at the ready.

Brom threw his glowstone. It traveled with me, albeit behind me, lighting the way.

The bottom came up faster than I expected. Fortunately, the slide curved in such a way as to blunt my landing. Unfortunately, the ceiling above rumbled. Sharp stalactites fell from above, raining down with deadly intent. At the last moment, I managed to evoke my shielding.

A shimmer of magic appeared around me, blocking the rocks from piercing into my body. The tips of the stalactites shattered and rolled off the edges of my magic.

Brom and Vinder slid down after me, almost running into my legs. I kept my balance as they got to their feet and examined the surroundings.

“The lair tried to kill you?” Brom asked with a huff and a laugh.

“Seems that way,” I murmured.

When I turned my attention to the mucus-covered slide, I realized there were holes in the wall to allow for someone to climb out. That was convenient.

“Let’s keep moving,” Vinder said.

The three of us walked forward. I took the lead. With my shields—even if they were weaker—I could protect us from a surprise attack. That was the way I liked it. If anyone were to get hurt, I would rather it be me than them. This was my job, after all. I was here to help. To protect. To defend.

We went deeper, and the air became thick.

The humid temperatures bothered me.

The glowstone almost seemed weaker in the very darkness of the typhon beast’s lair. That also bothered me.

The scratch of scales on rocks caused Vinder to tense. He grabbed me and Brom by the shoulder and held us back. “Do you hear that?”

“Sounds like hydra hatchlings,” Brom stated.

“You think hydras are here?”

“The legends say the typhon beast is the original hydra. The strongest and most ancient of them all. That he created the hydras and—”

“Bunkus,” Vinder said. “Utter nonsense.”

We listened for a full minute, just taking in the ambient sounds of the lair. Something was slithering across the rocks. Multiple somethings. When I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to paint a picture based on the noises, I thought I heard the deep breathing of a large creature mixed into the chaos.

“There’s hundreds of something nearby.” Vinder cautiously stepped forward. “We should stick close.”

Brom nodded. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Then he shot me a sidelong glance. “You heard that, didn’t ya, Liet?”

“You think I’ll run off?” I asked with a smile.

“I think you’ll do some crazy stunt. Like just slide down a tunnel without sayin’ nothing. That’s what I think you’ll do.” He pointed at me and glared. “Stick close. No playin’ hero.”

His concern was always cute. My face must’ve conveyed my thoughts because the man’s cheeks reddened as he turned away.

“Don’t go gettin’ weird on me,” Brom muttered, his arms crossed.

The three of us advanced deeper into the typhon beast’s lair. The glowstone illuminated things enough for us to see a dozen feet in all directions, but I wished we had more. Surprises were one of the quickest ways to defeat. I made it my mission to never get caught flatfooted.

We entered a large stone chamber.

At first, I thought it was just a room, but then I gave the floor a closer glance. We had found the scales scratching across the rocks.

Snakes.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of snakes.

They were snakes of all sizes, breeds, and colors. Some black, some white, some potted, some striped—they writhed around each other, twisting and hissing like they were in a frenzy. Gigantic snakes, most likely anacondas, or perhaps black leviathan snakes, swam through the pile of smaller specimens.

Most weren’t aware, but there was an easy way to tell if a snake was venomous or not.

Venomous snakes had distinct heads. They had tiny holes near their nostrils, and their heads were shaped like triangles, practically bulging at the side. Non-venomous snakes didn’t have these traits. They were smaller, more slender.

Most of the snakes here were venomous.

Joy.

I held my coat close. “You two wait here,” I said. My artifact jacket made me immune to most types of poisons and venoms. While the bite of the snakes would sting, I was confident I could make my way across the chamber without problems.

Even if the giant snakes tried to fight me, I still had my shielding.

“This is what I’m talkin’ about.” Brom stepped between me and the snakes. “I can handle this.” He grabbed at his pants and lifted them a bit. “Stand back.”

Vinder and I exchanged worried glances. After a short moment to mull it over, I decided to allow Brom to try.

The older man stomped over to the edge of the snake pile and then held out both his hands. He was a powerful hydra arcanist—they evoked deadly gases. A terrible purple fog spewed from the palms of his hands and washed out across the many serpents.

His evocation was powerful. The man must’ve trained for years.

In a matter of seconds, Brom evoked enough gas to fill a swamp. The gases washed over the snakes, blanketing them in toxins that both paralyzed and prevented them from breathing. The hiss of the snakes grew louder as they became momentarily agitated.

Then he succumbed to the paralysis, and they stopped their screeching.

“Quickly,” Brom said, motioning to us. “Come here.”

The hazardous fog wafted in our direction, but once we were close to Brom, he touched both me and Vinder, augmenting us with his hydra magic to help us better resist everything.

When we stepped around the pile of snakes, and into the purple mists, nothing hurt. No sting from the evoked gas, no snakes trying to bite my legs. Vinder hurried with me. Once on the other side of the room, Brom allowed his evocation to end. Then he jogged to join us.

“See?” he said as he headed into another hallway, the glowstone as our guide. “We work great as a team.”

I wanted to answer him, but the sounds of breathing grew louder.

Something was nearby.

Brom and Vinder must’ve heard it as well. They slowed their walk and kept my close. I readied my shielding, just in case, but I suspected it wasn’t necessary. Something sounded like it was having trouble breathing—each breath was a harsh rasp.

What was going on?

After several minutes of walking, we finally came to a circular door that was already ajar.

It resembled the circular door we had opened in order to gain access to the lair. It was humongous, with runes etched into the face. Why was it already open? Had someone beat us here?

But then I spotted the cracks in the door, and the walls all around us.

“Look at this.” Vinder pointed to the damage. “Something has been destroying this place.”

A rumble answered him.

It was a terrible quake, one that shook the whole canyon. It happened without warning, almost like a volcano wasnear us, and ready to blow. I grabbed Brom by the shoulder, and he grabbed Vinder in turn. We stumbled our way to the stone wall and held on for dear life.

When a boulder fell from the ceiling, I evoked my shielding and knocked the stone away. It crashed to the floor and cracked itself into two.

Vinder’s magic couldn’t affect this place. What was so powerful that it was destroying it?

Then I got my answer.

The door—the circular one, already open—blasted forward as a claw smashed into our room. Then another. Our tiny glowstone barely offered me enough light to fully see the gargantuan beast ripping its way into our room, but here it was.

The typhon beast.

A dragon head slammed through the stone wall, tearing up the lair as though it were made of paper. The beast had ninety-nine other heads, though. Smaller, snake-like, and each of them hissing and chittering on their own, whispering words at such a fearsome rate, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

The typhon beast was a ball of writhing muscle and flesh.

Glowing runes shone on each of the beast’s heads. All snakes practically had a glow about them. It was red and sinister, filled with hate.

Then the typhon beast’s main head roared, and its many snake heads spoke in a dark and sinister voice.

“I am alive,” the god-creature said. “Back from the dead! Long have I suffered. No more!”

The beast screamed so loud my hearing shattered. I grabbed at my ears, my head ringing and spinning. All volume had disappeared from the world as the monster smashed its way out of its room and then slammed toward the chamber of snakes.

The typhon beast’s scales were dark green and black, and it walked on six impressive legs, each more muscular than the last. The beast’s tail was longer than the rest of the body and ended in spines, each point deadly sharp.

I tried to call out to it, but my hearing…

My words were nothing but a buzz in my ears.

Brom and Vinder pulled me back before the typhon beast’s tail flew around and collided with me. I gulped down air, but it was all laced with dust and rock debris. I coughed and shielded my eyes, watching in horror as the typhon beast continued its crazed rush to exit its own lair.

As an arcanist, I healed quickly. It didn’t take long before my eardrums stitched themselves back together, especially thanks to Brom.

The yelling of the typhon beast echoed throughout the lair around us.

“Where is the Warlord? Where is his serpent? Tricksters! Cheats! They killed me. I will… I will… Eat their flesh.”

The many words of the typhon beast blended together, but it almost sounded confused, or struggling to remember what it was trying to say. Why was it trying to kill Volke? He wasn’t even here!

“We have to chase after it!” Brom said. “We have to stop it!”

“We have to save William and the others,” I shouted.

The moment we could, we ran forward, chasing after the typhon beast as it raged out of control in its own domain. They leapt over the corpses of snakes, and then across the cracks in the floor, and the shattered boulders that had rained down from the ceiling.

Fire shot from the heads of the beast, heating the lair to temperatures more unbearable than before. Sweat poured from me as I hurried to the slide-like tunnel, but I dared not to remove my coat. I needed it.

Fortunately, the typhon beast had smashed us up a walkway. It slammed its body into everything, causing a quake that threatened to collapse the whole lair around us. Vinder and Brom kept my pace as we hurried upward. Despite our labored breathing, we reached the top just as the god-creature was attempting to smash its way out the front.

“I am Xor!” it shouted with its many heads. “I must kill Luvi! Only I have that right! He threw me into this darkness! Used my blood! He… he…”

The typhon beast smashed his way out.

Vinder threw up his hand and manipulated the stone just outside the lair. In an instant, he rearranged everything, preventing the canyon from collapsing all around us. The ground moved beneath my feet, shifting and positioning me in a spot of safety. It was the same from Brom and the three hopefuls—Vinder was faster enough, and accurate enough, to save us all from the deadly rampage of the beast.

I was impressed, but I didn’t have time to express it.

The monster needed to be stopped.

It crashed its way out of the lair and into the canyon, destroying everything in its path. What if it took the stairway up to Regal Heights? Would Volke need to kill it? Before it had even bonded?

“We need to hurry!” Brom shouted as he ran to follow the typhon beast through the canyon. “My whole family is up there! They need to be warned!”