Hey there Lazybones, I just wanted to express my gratitutude for this story. I ran across it a couple of weeks ago and needless to say it has caused my work productivity to take a major hit. Very well written and thoroughly enjoyable. I'm kind of thinking of picking up Rappan Athuk now. I realize that you have taken liberties with it, but I'm still curious. I've never played in or run an epic dungeon like that. Really I think that must be some kind of major hole in my gamer resume. Perhaps its time to fill it. Now if I can only resist getting absorbed into your other stories for a couple of weeks I might get something done. Somehow I don't think the odds are good.
The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for posting, Oversight. I had the same problem with some of the classic early story hours, which is what led me to decide to try one of my own.
* * * * *
Chapter 70
PURSUIT
Dar dove toward the spawn, but his heavy armor slowed him, and the creature had a small but significant lead. Within a few seconds, he saw that he would not catch it before it reached Maricela and the Camarian reinforcements.
The priestess shouted orders, and the legionaries spread out across the trail, setting their long spears to take the spawn’s charge. She fired a beam of searing light at the spawn, but while the bolt hit it squarely in the center of its chest, it did nothing to slow its rush.
The lillend archer kept pace easily, maintaining the fire from her magical bow. The shafts stabbed deeper into its body than mundane arrows, and left bloody streaks trailing down its back, but the spawn, it appeared, would not be denied.
The little black man on the flying rug had gotten ahead of the charging spawn, and dropped to within fifty feet of the canyon floor. He leaned over and dropped a small black ball that plummeted to the rocky ground. As the spawn charged forward, the rocky terrain around it came alive with stirring, grasping tendrils. At first, they looked like the common black tentacles spell, but as he drew near, Dar could see that these tentacles were coated in a slick substance that left dark marks on the spawn’s skin where they struck, and each terminated in a gaping maw that snapped and hissed as they sought to gain purchase on its hide. The spawn tore through them like a farmer’s scythe through wheat, but it cost it time, time that it no longer had.
Dar lifted Justice and prepared to strike, but Letellia drifted into his path, her hand outstretched to bar him. “Let me, general,” she said, her voice hollow from behind her mask.
He wasn’t about to argue with her; the spawn had been delayed by the black wizard’s spell, but it was close enough for one dedicated charge to take it into the ranks of the Camarians. But even as he started to move around Letellia, she summoned her magic once more, and unleashed a final bolt of energy, once that stabbed into the back of the spawn’s skull like a knife. The spawn, already critically wounded, collapsed in a twitching heap, even as the last flickering remnants of electricity danced around its ehad and died.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s dead,” Dar said, but the lillend was already descending, dropping to almost point-blank range as it continued to fire its bow into the creature’s head. At that range, the entire length of the glowing shafts penetrated, and vanished into the interior of the spawn’s skull.
Letellia started to drift back upward, forcing Dar to focus his thoughts on the fly spell to follow her. “We thought you were dead,” he said, glancing back down at the path of destruction left by the ravager spawn through the canyon.
“I quite nearly was. Fortunately the collapse weakened the barrier between planes that exists in the vault, so I was able to eventually plane shift to another reality.”
“Why didn’t you let us know that you were alive?”
“I knew that your failure—our failure—would result in the eventual release of the Ravager. I had to take steps to address that eventuality. I regret that it took as long as it did to recover and return.”
He pointed down at the lillend, and the diminutive wizard floating below on his tiny square of carpet. “Who are your friends?”
“Members of the Mind’s Eye. I would have rallied more aid, but Lyllalya and Dra Mak Mor were the only ones who could come on such short notice. I have called in a number of favors, Corath Dar. Let us hope that are resources are sufficient to the task.”
They had risen high enough to see over the ridge, and Dar could see the lights of the torches that surrounded the entrance to Rappan Athuk, popping into sight like distant fireflies. There were other lights now on the hilltop where he’d left Kiron and the others, although at this range all Dar could make out were the outlines of men moving about.
There was one other thing as well. A rumbling, distant, a vague sound on the edges of his perception. Without the anchor of the ground beneath him, it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“What’s that?”
“You know, Corath Dar. It is time.”
Concentrating on the magic, he shot forward, willing the spell to carry him faster. He was moving as fast as a charging warhorse, but it still felt as though the air around him had thickened, tugging at his limbs, his sword, his cloak.
“Allera!” he shouted, knowing that he was probably too far away for her to hear over the evening breeze, which had started up again briskly, as if to spite him. The rumbling grew louder, and he could see rocks dislodged from the hillsides ahead, bouncing as they tumbled down the steep slope.
He could see Kiron and the others, now. Kiron was shouting something, lost over the rising pitch of the trembling ground. He saw a flash of white and saw Allera, running toward him. He was still too far away.
And then the hill exploded in a shower of rocks, dirt, and dust. A stone the size of his head shot past him, close enough so that he could have reached out and touched it as it passed. For a moment, the hilltop was obscured by a storm of debris that hung in the air, swirling in the wind.
“Allera!” he yelled, but there was no sign of her. There was too much dust in the air to see anything for a few seconds. He coughed as he entered the outer edge of the cloud, but kept on going, trying to see something, anything.
And then the debris cleared, and he saw more than he wanted to see.
It was huge. It looked like the spawn, down to the black teeth and claws, but its crimson hide was a deeper, richer color, almost like congealed blood. It was easily the size of a galleon, and he couldn’t even see all of it, its lower half still obstructed by the swirling dust and scattered dirt in the air. Apparently it had burrowed up directly from below, drawn by something—the sense of prey, magic, whatever. Even though it hadn’t sensed him, its presence was almost overpowering. The Ravager was massive beyond its mere size, although that was more impressive than anything he’d ever faced before. No, it was ancient, epic, a thing beyond mere human words. It was a force of nature, destruction made manifest. He’d been a fool, to think that mere men could face such a thing and defeat it.
But what he felt more than anything at that moment was a tight fear for Allera. And then, as though summoned by the thought, he saw her, lying half-buried in a pile of rubble. She’d been hurled over the edge of the crest by the explosion, and had made the violent passage down the steep cliffside that he’d made earlier. He’d survived it, recovered to fight on, but his wife was not moving.
“Allera!” he cried out, diving toward her.
But the Ravager had finally sensed him, even before he cried out. As he dove, it lunged, its jaws opening to seize him and swallow him in a single gulp. Desperation guided instinct, and he threw himself aside, lashing out blindly with Justice in what had to be vain effort to divert its attack.
The sword struck one of the Ravager’s teeth, and was almost wrenched out of his grip as he was buffeted roughly aside. He started to fall, but a moment later he felt an agony as the creature’s jaws snapped shut, closing on his right wrist. His arm was nearly wrenched out of its socket as he was yanked violently down, and then, with a sickening tearing feeling that he felt through his entire body, his right hand and much of his forearm tore free, and he was tumbling away from it. For a moment, as he fell out of control, he caught a glimpse of the Ravager falling back, and saw the gleaming blade of Justice jutting from the right side of its jaw, protruding out from between its teeth like a toothpick.
But anything else, including recovering from his fall, proved beyond his abilities. The ground rose up quickly to meet him, and he landed in a rough heap on the piled earth and stone that had sloughed off the sundered hillside, blood from his severed arm splattering on the rocks around him as he slid to a halt.
Above him, the Ravager lifted its head toward the sky and unleashed a roar that shook the world.
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Richard Rawen
First Post
"Oh Crap" doesn't seem to quite cover it... not an auspicious beginning at all. 
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 71
THE RAVAGER
In the sky above the Ravager’s perch, atop the remnants of the hilltop adjoining Rappan Athuk, the surviving defenders launched magical attacks that seemed as futile as they were tiny against its bulk. Much of the creature remained half-buried in the chaos of unearthed boulders, heaped earth, and jagged timber that it had created as it had burrowed up from the prison complex deep underground. Drawn by some instinct to the locus of the enemies fighting against its spawn, the Ravager had bypassed the broken wards and sundered traps of the ancient prison and burrowed up directly into the midst of those that would challenge its newly-won freedom.
Lightning flashed in the air, but it barely marked the Ravager’s crimson hide. Magic missiles vanished into it, less than pinpricks, the slight injury they inflicted easily repaired by the creature’s monstrous properties of regeneration. It had killed at least a dozen men and women in its sudden and violent appearance, and some trickle of their life force had found its way into the monster, siphoned off by another grim power of ancient lore imparted by its creators.
Letellia conjured a crushing fist that delivered a glancing blow to the creature’s head. Just barely too strong to ignore, the attack drew an immediate response; the Ravager merely opened its jaws and engulfed the fist. That reaction might have given it at least some indigestion, but the creature’s touch disrupted the sorceress’s magic, and her conjuration dissolved as thoroughly as if the fist had been a morsel of flesh.
Around the base of the hill, dust-covered, battered forms stirred among the rubble, groaning as they slowly pulled themselves free of the debris. Here and there an arm, a leg, or another part of a body was visible, lying limp, their owners slain by the concussive force of the Ravager’s arrival, or by shards of flying stone, or by the hard landing at the base of the cliff, or by being buried by the subsequent rockfall. A legionary, his arm dangling at an improbable angle, staggered through the wreckage, calling a name that was lost in the chaos that still raged around him.
Dar did not call out, but his face was a tight agony as he crawled through the clutter, his severed arm pressed tightly against his body. Blood left a generous trail in his wake, and it was clear that only sheer stubborn persistence kept him going now. His weapons lost, his body broken, all he could do now was make his way to the goal he’d seen before from above. The spell that had carried him aloft had been broken, or it had expired, and all he had left to carry him now was the lingering remnants of his strength.
Still, he reached Allera, lying limp in the dust that covered her face and clothes. He pulled her against him, his arm leaving a bright red mark on her tattered robe.
“Angel,” he croaked, the dust thick in his throat. “Angel, wake up... we need you. I need you.”
At first, he thought she was dead. He could not feel the warmth of her body through his heavy mail, and his good hand was numb, unable to feel anything but a vague echo of the pain that radiated from his other, severed limb. He tried to open her satchel, which miraculously still clung to her hip on a much-abused strip of leather. His fingers fumbled on the latch, and his vision blurred as rare tears appeared. He shook his head, partly in frustration, partly at anger at himself. The motion caused his vision to blur. He was already starting to drift; even Corath Dar had only so much blood in his body to lose.
A stone the size of a wagon wheel struck the ground six paces away, but he could not feel the shards that pinged loudly against his armored back. Looking up, he was only vaguely aware of the Ravager’s movements. It had pulled itself up out of the shaft it had dug, and clung to the top of the hill like a bird defending its nest. It hissed in what seemed to Dar to be irritation at the flying ants that continued to harry it. White shafts briefly flashed in his vision, but he no longer had enough awareness to recognize the arrows from the lillend’s bow.
He didn’t see Allera’s eyes open, or feel her hand on his arm. But the sudden sweet surge of healing magic cut through the haze into which he was falling, and brought him back fully into consciousness. Her spell had not been strong enough to fully heal him, but she had clearly channeled some of it into herself, for her gaze was strong as he finally met it with his own. She had noticed his amputation, and closed her hand without flinching over the stump, which was now covered in a tender layer of freshly-healed skin.
“I seem to keep losing that arm,” he said, almost laughing with his relief. But before she could respond, another impact nearby drew their attention back up. The Ravager’s movements were dislodging more of the hill, provoking new slides which tumbled down the hill. It was only a matter of time before something hit them. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said. He started to rise, but she held him with her hand, her eyes steady.
“No. This is the time, and this is the place. I will need you... to hold me, to anchor me. There is going to be... a cost.”
He nodded. He did not try to caution her; there was no need. He held her, protecting her with his body, as she drew upon her power, the deep thread that connected her to the life energies that suffused this world. The magic that fueled her healing, and which she had wielded against the darkness of this world, and worlds beyond.
Her head lifted, and her eyes fluttered up into their sockets, showing almost all white. Her body shook, but Dar held her, serving as her anchor, as she drew that power into herself, using it to tear open a portal in the very fabric of reality.
The gate opened in the air above them, maybe a hundred feet above the Ravager. A brilliant light issued from within, accompanied by a sound both unreal and sublime, a note of simple purity that caused those mortals gathered here to stare up in surprise, the pain of their wounds and the desperation of their circumstances temporarily forgotten.
Allera send a calling through the portal, and the hosts of Heaven answered.
THE RAVAGER
In the sky above the Ravager’s perch, atop the remnants of the hilltop adjoining Rappan Athuk, the surviving defenders launched magical attacks that seemed as futile as they were tiny against its bulk. Much of the creature remained half-buried in the chaos of unearthed boulders, heaped earth, and jagged timber that it had created as it had burrowed up from the prison complex deep underground. Drawn by some instinct to the locus of the enemies fighting against its spawn, the Ravager had bypassed the broken wards and sundered traps of the ancient prison and burrowed up directly into the midst of those that would challenge its newly-won freedom.
Lightning flashed in the air, but it barely marked the Ravager’s crimson hide. Magic missiles vanished into it, less than pinpricks, the slight injury they inflicted easily repaired by the creature’s monstrous properties of regeneration. It had killed at least a dozen men and women in its sudden and violent appearance, and some trickle of their life force had found its way into the monster, siphoned off by another grim power of ancient lore imparted by its creators.
Letellia conjured a crushing fist that delivered a glancing blow to the creature’s head. Just barely too strong to ignore, the attack drew an immediate response; the Ravager merely opened its jaws and engulfed the fist. That reaction might have given it at least some indigestion, but the creature’s touch disrupted the sorceress’s magic, and her conjuration dissolved as thoroughly as if the fist had been a morsel of flesh.
Around the base of the hill, dust-covered, battered forms stirred among the rubble, groaning as they slowly pulled themselves free of the debris. Here and there an arm, a leg, or another part of a body was visible, lying limp, their owners slain by the concussive force of the Ravager’s arrival, or by shards of flying stone, or by the hard landing at the base of the cliff, or by being buried by the subsequent rockfall. A legionary, his arm dangling at an improbable angle, staggered through the wreckage, calling a name that was lost in the chaos that still raged around him.
Dar did not call out, but his face was a tight agony as he crawled through the clutter, his severed arm pressed tightly against his body. Blood left a generous trail in his wake, and it was clear that only sheer stubborn persistence kept him going now. His weapons lost, his body broken, all he could do now was make his way to the goal he’d seen before from above. The spell that had carried him aloft had been broken, or it had expired, and all he had left to carry him now was the lingering remnants of his strength.
Still, he reached Allera, lying limp in the dust that covered her face and clothes. He pulled her against him, his arm leaving a bright red mark on her tattered robe.
“Angel,” he croaked, the dust thick in his throat. “Angel, wake up... we need you. I need you.”
At first, he thought she was dead. He could not feel the warmth of her body through his heavy mail, and his good hand was numb, unable to feel anything but a vague echo of the pain that radiated from his other, severed limb. He tried to open her satchel, which miraculously still clung to her hip on a much-abused strip of leather. His fingers fumbled on the latch, and his vision blurred as rare tears appeared. He shook his head, partly in frustration, partly at anger at himself. The motion caused his vision to blur. He was already starting to drift; even Corath Dar had only so much blood in his body to lose.
A stone the size of a wagon wheel struck the ground six paces away, but he could not feel the shards that pinged loudly against his armored back. Looking up, he was only vaguely aware of the Ravager’s movements. It had pulled itself up out of the shaft it had dug, and clung to the top of the hill like a bird defending its nest. It hissed in what seemed to Dar to be irritation at the flying ants that continued to harry it. White shafts briefly flashed in his vision, but he no longer had enough awareness to recognize the arrows from the lillend’s bow.
He didn’t see Allera’s eyes open, or feel her hand on his arm. But the sudden sweet surge of healing magic cut through the haze into which he was falling, and brought him back fully into consciousness. Her spell had not been strong enough to fully heal him, but she had clearly channeled some of it into herself, for her gaze was strong as he finally met it with his own. She had noticed his amputation, and closed her hand without flinching over the stump, which was now covered in a tender layer of freshly-healed skin.
“I seem to keep losing that arm,” he said, almost laughing with his relief. But before she could respond, another impact nearby drew their attention back up. The Ravager’s movements were dislodging more of the hill, provoking new slides which tumbled down the hill. It was only a matter of time before something hit them. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said. He started to rise, but she held him with her hand, her eyes steady.
“No. This is the time, and this is the place. I will need you... to hold me, to anchor me. There is going to be... a cost.”
He nodded. He did not try to caution her; there was no need. He held her, protecting her with his body, as she drew upon her power, the deep thread that connected her to the life energies that suffused this world. The magic that fueled her healing, and which she had wielded against the darkness of this world, and worlds beyond.
Her head lifted, and her eyes fluttered up into their sockets, showing almost all white. Her body shook, but Dar held her, serving as her anchor, as she drew that power into herself, using it to tear open a portal in the very fabric of reality.
The gate opened in the air above them, maybe a hundred feet above the Ravager. A brilliant light issued from within, accompanied by a sound both unreal and sublime, a note of simple purity that caused those mortals gathered here to stare up in surprise, the pain of their wounds and the desperation of their circumstances temporarily forgotten.
Allera send a calling through the portal, and the hosts of Heaven answered.
Nightbreeze
First Post
Are we getting a cascade, Lazybones? 
Lazybones
Adventurer
No, in my campaigns I use a device called the Compact that puts limits on the engagement of Outsiders on the Prime. One of the things I disallow is letting Called creatures use their summoning abilities unless they spend a long period of time on the Prime (e.g. like the demons in Rappan Athuk). Thus a cascade a la Sepulchrave's story hour isn't possible.Are we getting a cascade, Lazybones?
Of course, that doesn't mean that you can't get creative with the gate spell...
* * * * *
Chapter 72
HEAVEN’S ANSWER
They came in an orderly double-column, bright points of light that spread out to form a ring above the Ravager. Flaring with divine energy, they projected beams of liquid light that lanced down into the creature, flaring slightly as they vanished into its colossal bulk. Individually, each beam did little, but with eighteen lantern archons all firing a steady stream of bolts into the monster, it clearly felt an effect.
Despite being land-bound, the Ravager responded with a fury. Drawing its legs under it, it sprang into the air, gaining a surprising clearance despite its size. An archon vanished, swallowed up into the creature’s maw, but the others darted nimbly back, only to form up again and descend to follow the creature as it slid awkwardly down the side of the hill. Even in motion they kept up their barrage, if at a slightly slower pace. The arcanists continued their own attacks, wearing away at the creature little by little. A portion of their spells were disrupted as they struck it, but the magic resistance of the Ravager was sporadic, and for each lightning bolt or magic missile that dissolved on impact, several others got through, inflicting damage. They were hurting it faster than its regeneration could repair its body, now, although the task seemed akin to tearing down a mountain using a pick and shovel.
“You did it,” Dar breathed at Allera, watching the ongoing display in wonder. Fortunately the creature’s leap had taken it down an adjacent flank of the hill, or its tumble would have crushed them both under its bulk. He looked for other survivors from the hilltop, but it was still too difficult to see through all the floating debris in the air.
Allera groaned slightly, and Dar looked down in concern. She held her hand outstretched before her, her body trembling with the effort of opening the gate.
“Let it go, Allera,” he told her, resisting the urge to shake her, as if that could free her of the grasp of the magic. But she did not falter, and if anything drew deeper, her breath heaving in her chest as she refocused herself upon the portal floating high in the night sky.
The gate remained open for a few seconds longer, sufficient time for one more entity to arrive through.
The figure hovered in a globe of pure light that could be seen for leagues distant. He—if gender could even be assigned to something so utterly perfect—was a tall entity in the shape of a human being, a sculpture of gentle lines and flowing curves, bright wings flaring from his back. He carried a massive sword in one hand and a bow nearly as large as he in his other, and he wore a white robe, over which was fastened a breastplate of white steel so brilliant as to be almost blinding to look upon. All those gathered, who had been transfixed by the initial opening of the gate and the arrival of the heavenly host, now felt tears flow down their eyes at the sight of this newcomer, one of the generals of the blessed, a prince of the Light.
A solar.
The Ravager was the only thing present that appeared unfazed by the new arrival. Still harried by the archons, it lunged up on its hind legs in another attempt to lash out at its tormentors. But this time its counter was unsuccessful, as the archons merely flowed back out of its reach, still blasting with their beams. The Ravager was possessed of the ability to change form, but with the damage it was absorbing, it looked as though it would have to succumb before it could adopt a shape capable of dealing with flying enemies on their own terms.
“By all the gods,” Dar whispered, unable to do anything but watch as the solar descended from on high, its sword a bright shaft in its hand. Allera, her powers spent, sagged in his grasp, but there was a slight smile on her face that lingered as she passed from consciousness.
The solar released its sword, and to Dar’s surprise the weapon hovered obediently in the air beside its master as the angel lifted his heavy bow, and fitted a white shaft to the string. He hands moved in a blur as he fired once, a second time, and then too quickly for Dar to keep count of the arrows it launched. As far as Dar could tell, every shot struck the Ravager, but he could not tell how effective the impacts were. The idea of an arrow, even one fired from such a bow, harming the creature in any significant way seemed utterly unfathomable. But something had to be able to kill it; they had slain the spawn in numbers, and while durable and ferocious, those lesser monstrosties had bled like any other living thing that Dar had battled in his storied career.
But now, with his wife lying unconscious in his lap, and his hand somewhere inside the belly of that beast, probably keeping his sword company, all he could do was watch, and pray.
The Ravager lifted its head and roared a challenge at the solar, its fury quite clearly evident. The angel, in turn, perhaps unsatisfied with the results of his archery, slung his bow across his back and folded his wings close around him, seizing his sword out of the air as he arced over into a dive. The Ravager, sensing that a foe was coming to challenge it directly, focused on the descending celestial, ignoring the beams of light that continued to lance into it from all directions. Letellia had summoned another crushing fist, but the Ravager likewise paid it little head, ignoring the thumps that smacked hard into the densely knobbed flesh of its neck and shoulders.
The Ravager’s long neck and generous reach allowed it first attack, but the angel spun in a beautiful pirouette under the snapping jaws, which closed upon empty air. His blade carved a long gash under its jaw, but he still retained enough agility to dart back, avoiding the claws that sought purchase in his hide. The angel did not escape fully; bright drops of blood glistened in the air as it withdrew, torn from gashes in the celestial’s long legs. But the Ravager had clearly taken the worst of that exchange.
The angel immediately returned to the attack, streaking out over the Ravager’s back, lashing out with his sword. The blazing steel weapon opened two deep gashes in the creature’s hide, but only the head of the sword came back bloody, indicating that the strokes had failed to penetrate deeply.
The Ravager’s body contorted, and it flipped over onto its back with an alarming suddenness. The angel drew back, but too late to avoid the raking claws that bit into its flesh from both sides. The sword flashed, and part of a claw fell away, but then the Ravager’s head snapped hard into him. The combatants fell apart once, more, but bits of once-pristine white fabric trailed from the Ravager’s jaws, and the solar had clearly absorbed serious punishment. The Ravager sought to press its advantage, lunging after its enemy, but the celestial wisely retreated, his wings lifting him almost effortlessly back into the air beyond its reach. In its wake the lantern archons reformed into a close circle, blasting away.
Dar, still transfixed, gently lowered Allera to the ground and rose to gain a better vantage, standing over her protectively as he watched the battle. He could see the creature laboring now, the cumulative effects of its wounds having a definite effect despite its ongoing regeneration.
The solar’s glow had brightened as it hovered in the air, and now it dove again, uttering a cry of challenge that drew the Ravager’s attention once more. Again the creature rose to meet its foe, but this time the solar abruptly arrested its dive, spreading its wings to stop its descent in a way that no mortal flier could ever have managed. The Ravager extended its neck fully, springing up on its legs, but the angel had judged the range perfectly, and the creature’s jaws closed on empty air five feet below him. Gravity reasserted itself, and as the monster began to fall, the angel fired a prismatic spray into its face. The brilliant beams lanced into the Ravager, scoring its flesh in a manner that had to have hurt it, but even that potent magical assault failed to destroy it outright.
“Surely it cannot take much more!” Dar exclaimed, the words torn out of him in his frustration. He itched to join the fight, even in his current condition, but knew better than to attempt something so foolish. Then he saw a figure off to his right, staggering out of the swirling dust. Dar recognized him only by the familiar design of his armor; Kiron’s face was obliterated in caked dirt and blood, and he did not appear to see Dar as he stumbled forward, nearly falling with each tortuous step over the rough ground. He didn’t even react when Dar grasped him, but he let himself be eased down to the ground not far from where Allera lay. Blood bubbled on his lips as he tried to speak, but Dar could not identify what he was trying to say.
“Stand easy, knight,” he said, holding the dying man’s shoulder.
A loud noise drew his attention back up, just as a tremor shook the ground under him, and he nearly fell. At first he could not see clearly what was happening, as a new plume of dust had risen like a rising fog from the side of the hill where the Ravager had battled Allera’s celestial allies. Then he oriented on the bright points of light within the storm, and they allowed him to focus in on the outline of the creature, a dark shadow within the cloud.
And diminishing, as it burrowed into the ground beneath the hill.
The noise and shaking grew stronger, until stones began rolling down the hill around him. He dragged Kiron over to Allera and shielded both of them with his body. Debris glanced off of his back, hard enough to draw a grunt, but not enough to break bones. The chaos reached its peak and began to recede, but even as the noises faded, the thrum within the ground at his feet continued. To Dar, who had already guessed what was happening, it felt like the sound of hope dying.
The rockfall came to an end; a quiet interrupted only by the sound of the wind returned. He reached down and touched a stone half-buried in the ground. He could still just sense the trembling of the earth in the Ravager’s wake.
A light drew his attention up. The solar descended toward him, his glow parting the swirling detritus in the air. His eyes shone with pity, and Dar felt a twinge of irrational anger, which he choked down with his frustration and pain. The celestial spread its wings and lifted a hand over them, and Dar felt a surge of healing power that eased his physical wounds, but did little to help those deeper hurts. Behind him, both Kiron and Allera stirred as the life-giving energies settled into their bodies.
The solar’s presence had attracted others as well. Sultheros and the other mages drifted down from above, followed by Letellia and her otherplanar allies. The lantern archons had dispersed across the battlefield, looking for survivors that they could aid. Dar was dimly aware of shouts and a globe of light just coming into sight between the hills; Maricela and the soldiers in the relief column, arriving too late to do anything but pick up the pieces.
No. Dar squashed that thought as soon as it appeared. If they’d been here at the start of it, all they could have done was die, and in dying bolster the strength of the Ravager. Their decision—his decision—to face the creature had been the height of hubris, he saw that now. Still, Allera’s intervention had nearly been enough to beat it, only the creature had not quite been stupid to linger long enough to be destroyed. The same could not be said of most of his command...
“Are you well, general?” Sultheros asked. Dar realized that the elf had spoken before, but the words had swirled around him like the gusts of wind, lost without meaning. He struggled to his feet, even as Callyse and Jalla Calestin landed behind him, tending aid to Allera and Kiron. Mehlaraine had not remained, and was probably off looking for her husband. Selanthas had been atop the ridge when the creature had arrived, but he’d been at the very edge of the long crest; perhaps he’d been lucky.
“It was all for naught,” he said, fixing all of them—even the celestial lord—with a cold look. “The bastard got away, and we have no idea when or where it will strike again. The way it regenerates, it’ll be back to full strength in a few minutes, if that.”
None challenged his assessment. All they could do was deal with the survivors of the disaster, the celestials joining the surviving clerics to offer succor, if not solace.
Richard Rawen
First Post
ARGH!
yeah... I mean it makes sense . . . grrr
clever dang lazybones...
then again, it means more story... so, yay, it lived?
Awesome stuff, thanks LB!
yeah... I mean it makes sense . . . grrr
clever dang lazybones...
then again, it means more story... so, yay, it lived?
Awesome stuff, thanks LB!
Lazybones
Adventurer
My original plan was to have this be the final confrontation. But as I wrote the scene, I kept coming back to the question, does the Ravager just sit and take it when it can't effectively fight back against foes that overcome its DR and push it steadily toward death? I figured it was a dumb beast, but not quite that dumb.
Plus this outcome let me take the story in some new directions. I promise it will wrap up shortly, though. I want to get to my new Shadowfell story.
* * * * *
Chapter 73
SURVIVOR
A day after the Ravager’s emergence from Rappan Athuk, the scene of the first battle between the Camarians and the creature remained desolate and stark. Dar and the other leaders of the group had departed late on the morning after the confrontation, using wind walk and teleport spells to return to the populated lands of the north. Only a handful of legionaries and dwarven sappers that had survived the assault remained, keeping watch. It was a precarious duty, for all that the arcanists had agreed that it was unlikely that the creature would return here. There were other, richer targets to sate its hunger, Letellia had pointed out, in a tone that had sent a chill down the backs of those who had been close enough to hear.
Legionaries in tattered and dust-covered livery poked through the rubble, persisting in their tasks despite their dazed expressions. The events of the previous night—from the desperate battles with the spawn, the appearance of the Ravager, up to the opening of the heavens themselves to give battle—had overwhelmed these men, whose lives had been commonplace up until this moment.
One soldier, a youth of twenty years by the name of Livius Tartha, looked over the dark form lying in a niche in the rocks three times before he nearly stumbled on it. Shaking his head to clear it, the legionary bent to examine the form, before starting in surprise.
“Centurion! There’s a live one here!”
Three others came running, including a bald-headed veteran, his armor dinged with almost as many scars as his creased flesh. The centurion was the first to reach the youth, and as he knelt beside the unfortunate victim, his experienced hands quickly confirmed the soldier’s words.
“Water!” he yelled, accepting a skin from one of the other men. He lifted the head of the man lying in the rubble, and poured a thin stream of water between his cracked and blood-flecked lips. The man was clad in garments that might have once been of quality, but were now as torn and ragged as those of most of the survivors of last night’s engagement. He was clearly a man of status, though; he wore a necklace of silver links tight around his throat, and there was chasing of the same metal on his belt buckle. Oddly, the centurion saw flecks of color in the dirt caught in the man’s clothes, or maybe it was just a trick of the uncertain light. He wasn’t clad in legion garb, and he obviously wasn’t an elf, so that made him one of the “specials” that had been sent here to try to stop the demon-beast that had come up out of the ground to wreck destruction upon them.
The man stirred, and coughed. The centurion helped him as he turned his head and unloaded a surprising amount of dirt from his lungs. It was amazing that the man hadn’t suffocated, with so much crap jammed down his throat. There was something stranger, as well; the man’s face showed signs of exposure, his nose and ears looking almost like they’d been sorely frostbitten. It had been chilly, the last few nights, but even if he’d been lying here since the battle with the Ravager, it shouldn’t have been bad enough to leave such marks on him.
“Get a stretcher,” he said to two of the legionaries, who rushed off to comply. The centurion and the soldier who’d originally found the man remained with him, offering him water again once he’d finished clearing his throat and lungs of debris. The unfortunate accepted mechanically, although he was anything but lucid.
“Just take it easy, mate,” the centurion said, looking up as the pair returned with the stretcher. They loaded him onto it, then the centurion directed the two bearers to take him back to the command tent for immediate treatment from the last cleric to have remained with the small remnant of the company.
“I thought we’d found the last of the live ones,” the young legionary said. “Who do you think he was?”
“A damned lucky bastard,” the centurion said. “Continue your sweep, soldier. Maybe we’ll find another one.”
The soldier saluted, and moved off. The centurion lingered for a moment, glancing down into the rocks where they’d found the man. The crevice went deeper than it first looked, and a sour smell rose up from below. It was a familiar stink; the same odor rose up off the rotting corpses of the dead spawn that lay in heaps around the bases of the hills.
“Lucky bastard,” the centurion repeated, then he moved off toward the tent, to check on the status of the survivor.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Behind-the-scenes update:
While I have had a general outline in mind for the finale for some time now, I admit that there were more than a few loose ends related to the Ravager plotline that I was waiting to somehow resolve on their own. Today while writing (about 6 chapters ahead of where the story is right now), I had a few sudden inspirations that will hopefully allow me to tie it all together at the end. Now I just hope that my writing abilities can live up to what I can see in my head.
In the meantime, let's see what's been going on with an old character:
* * * * *
Chapter 74
PATH OF WRECKAGE
Deep under the surface of the world, far from the cares and even the awareness of the people of Camar, a city lay in ruins.
The place was called Talaceth-Azbar, and some of its structures dated back almost a thousand years. Or they had; much of the city was heaped in wreckage, the slender, twisting spires cast down, the carved structures that had been etched deep into the sloping walls of the huge cavern gouged off to leave blackened, empty pits where rooms and hallways had been before. A few days before, Talaceth-Azbar had supported a population of maybe a thousand citizens, mostly duergar, bugbears, and minotaurs, seasoned with a smattering of drow and tieflings, and the whole supported on the backs of maybe five thousand slaves.
Today, maybe fifty survivors picked through the rubble.
A small cluster of dark figures observed the scene from a ledge high atop the city, near the vaulted summit of the great cavern. Most of the luminescent growths that had been painstakingly cultivated along the cavern walls had been torn away with the destruction of the city’s structures, but there was no need for much illumination to note the thoroughness with which Talaceth-Azbar had been razed.
“And where is the creature now?” spoke a tall figure that loomed over the handful of duergar who looked down at the wreckage of their community with dark looks. He was clad in flowing garments that draped over his body like a shroud, but failed to conceal the considerable size and strength of their owner. His eyes gleamed like tiny torches, and even the sturdy deep dwarves stirred at his glance, quickly looking down at their feet. One might have attributed that to the fact that these creatures had had their spirits broken by the fate of their city, but to assume that would have underestimated the potency in the entity that the people of the underworld referred to at the Nightlord.
“Its travels are erratic, great lord,” one of the duergar managed. “We believe it makes for the general direction of Kalas Xothi.”
The Nightlord glanced over at another of those gathered on the ledge, a lean figure clad in a hooded robe. “Velkyr?”
The robed figure shifted slightly, the voice that came from the cowl rasped like the creak of an old door. “Divination magic still proves useless regarding the creature, master.”
“Useless,” the Nightlord said. The word came out like a curse, and all of those present quailed before it. But the Nightlord turned away, and looked back out over the cavern.
Someone approached from below, flying up close to the cavern wall. The new arrival was a figure much akin the Nightlord, but slightly smaller, faster, moving with a lithe ease as she dropped lightly onto the edge of the jutting platform. A woman, but otherwise an echo of the dark, powerful figure that dominated the scene evolving upon the ledge. She was clearly a part of him, but in the dark underworld, she had her own name: the Dark Lady.
“Anything?” the Nightlord asked.
The newcomer shook her head. “Nothing useful. Nothing that would indicate a weakness.”
“If it had a weakness, we would have known of it by now.”
“You recognized the descriptions of the attacker?” the Lady asked.
“Yes. It’s the Ravager. The grown-up version.”
“I seem to remember the little ones being a big enough problem in and of themselves.”
The Nightlord smashed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “This has the stink of our old... companions all over it.”
“You think they freed the creature, to use against us?”
The Nightlord snorted. “Not even they are that stupid. No, I suspect they’ve long since forgotten about us, and I would prefer to keep it that way. But I have not forgotten our expedition into the vault under Rappan Athuk. I also remember that our friends had custody of the keys, or at least one of them, I think. My memory of those last days... after... they are a bit... hazy.”
“What about that fiend that came calling, a few months back?”
“I had not forgotten that emissary. I am starting to wonder if I made the right decision to destroy it.”
“We agreed that we would not get involved in the actions of the surface world again.”
The Nightlord gestured with his hand. “Look around you. It is going to be hard not to get involved with... this.”
The Lady moved closer to him, the two shadows blending together. “What do you want to do?”
His eyes met hers. They were cold, those eyes, but what feeling remained in them, was saved for her. “We need information. I suspect our realm is just an appetizer for this thing, and we cannot remain ignorant of what is going on in the world beyond any longer.”
“We have agents...”
“No. This is something we need to do ourselves.”
“Velkyr will test his leash in our absence.”
“Of course he will. He is what he is.” In an undertone, but one that she heard clearly, he added, “We all are.”
He turned to face the delegation gathered along the ledge; the duergar flinched back reflexively as he focused his attention upon them. “You will rebuild. To aid in this, I will send a company of formians to assist you. I will furthermore cut your tribute in half for the next two intervals.”
One of the dwarves, his skin deeply furrowed like the ridges of the surrounding cliffs, blurted, “Half! But great lord, how can we...” His statement was cut off as he met the Nightlord’s eyes.
“You are fortunate indeed that enough of you survived to remain useful, or I would finish what the Ravager started, and take the lot of you now. Go! And think on what I have said.”
The dwarves fled as one. The robed figure remained, but it kept a respectful distance, leaving the Nightlord and his consort staring down over the ruined city, their minds sharing dark thoughts.
While I have had a general outline in mind for the finale for some time now, I admit that there were more than a few loose ends related to the Ravager plotline that I was waiting to somehow resolve on their own. Today while writing (about 6 chapters ahead of where the story is right now), I had a few sudden inspirations that will hopefully allow me to tie it all together at the end. Now I just hope that my writing abilities can live up to what I can see in my head.
In the meantime, let's see what's been going on with an old character:
* * * * *
Chapter 74
PATH OF WRECKAGE
Deep under the surface of the world, far from the cares and even the awareness of the people of Camar, a city lay in ruins.
The place was called Talaceth-Azbar, and some of its structures dated back almost a thousand years. Or they had; much of the city was heaped in wreckage, the slender, twisting spires cast down, the carved structures that had been etched deep into the sloping walls of the huge cavern gouged off to leave blackened, empty pits where rooms and hallways had been before. A few days before, Talaceth-Azbar had supported a population of maybe a thousand citizens, mostly duergar, bugbears, and minotaurs, seasoned with a smattering of drow and tieflings, and the whole supported on the backs of maybe five thousand slaves.
Today, maybe fifty survivors picked through the rubble.
A small cluster of dark figures observed the scene from a ledge high atop the city, near the vaulted summit of the great cavern. Most of the luminescent growths that had been painstakingly cultivated along the cavern walls had been torn away with the destruction of the city’s structures, but there was no need for much illumination to note the thoroughness with which Talaceth-Azbar had been razed.
“And where is the creature now?” spoke a tall figure that loomed over the handful of duergar who looked down at the wreckage of their community with dark looks. He was clad in flowing garments that draped over his body like a shroud, but failed to conceal the considerable size and strength of their owner. His eyes gleamed like tiny torches, and even the sturdy deep dwarves stirred at his glance, quickly looking down at their feet. One might have attributed that to the fact that these creatures had had their spirits broken by the fate of their city, but to assume that would have underestimated the potency in the entity that the people of the underworld referred to at the Nightlord.
“Its travels are erratic, great lord,” one of the duergar managed. “We believe it makes for the general direction of Kalas Xothi.”
The Nightlord glanced over at another of those gathered on the ledge, a lean figure clad in a hooded robe. “Velkyr?”
The robed figure shifted slightly, the voice that came from the cowl rasped like the creak of an old door. “Divination magic still proves useless regarding the creature, master.”
“Useless,” the Nightlord said. The word came out like a curse, and all of those present quailed before it. But the Nightlord turned away, and looked back out over the cavern.
Someone approached from below, flying up close to the cavern wall. The new arrival was a figure much akin the Nightlord, but slightly smaller, faster, moving with a lithe ease as she dropped lightly onto the edge of the jutting platform. A woman, but otherwise an echo of the dark, powerful figure that dominated the scene evolving upon the ledge. She was clearly a part of him, but in the dark underworld, she had her own name: the Dark Lady.
“Anything?” the Nightlord asked.
The newcomer shook her head. “Nothing useful. Nothing that would indicate a weakness.”
“If it had a weakness, we would have known of it by now.”
“You recognized the descriptions of the attacker?” the Lady asked.
“Yes. It’s the Ravager. The grown-up version.”
“I seem to remember the little ones being a big enough problem in and of themselves.”
The Nightlord smashed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “This has the stink of our old... companions all over it.”
“You think they freed the creature, to use against us?”
The Nightlord snorted. “Not even they are that stupid. No, I suspect they’ve long since forgotten about us, and I would prefer to keep it that way. But I have not forgotten our expedition into the vault under Rappan Athuk. I also remember that our friends had custody of the keys, or at least one of them, I think. My memory of those last days... after... they are a bit... hazy.”
“What about that fiend that came calling, a few months back?”
“I had not forgotten that emissary. I am starting to wonder if I made the right decision to destroy it.”
“We agreed that we would not get involved in the actions of the surface world again.”
The Nightlord gestured with his hand. “Look around you. It is going to be hard not to get involved with... this.”
The Lady moved closer to him, the two shadows blending together. “What do you want to do?”
His eyes met hers. They were cold, those eyes, but what feeling remained in them, was saved for her. “We need information. I suspect our realm is just an appetizer for this thing, and we cannot remain ignorant of what is going on in the world beyond any longer.”
“We have agents...”
“No. This is something we need to do ourselves.”
“Velkyr will test his leash in our absence.”
“Of course he will. He is what he is.” In an undertone, but one that she heard clearly, he added, “We all are.”
He turned to face the delegation gathered along the ledge; the duergar flinched back reflexively as he focused his attention upon them. “You will rebuild. To aid in this, I will send a company of formians to assist you. I will furthermore cut your tribute in half for the next two intervals.”
One of the dwarves, his skin deeply furrowed like the ridges of the surrounding cliffs, blurted, “Half! But great lord, how can we...” His statement was cut off as he met the Nightlord’s eyes.
“You are fortunate indeed that enough of you survived to remain useful, or I would finish what the Ravager started, and take the lot of you now. Go! And think on what I have said.”
The dwarves fled as one. The robed figure remained, but it kept a respectful distance, leaving the Nightlord and his consort staring down over the ruined city, their minds sharing dark thoughts.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 75
MEANDERINGS
The ground trembled.
Corath Dar felt it, and he paused in one of the stone passages deep within Highbluff Castle to place his hand against the nearest wall. The thrumming was clearly felt through the ancient stone blocks, and the vibration seeped through his hand into his arm, persisting for a good fifteen seconds before fading.
“Damn,” the fighter said.
“General!”
He turned at the shout, and saw Petronia coming down the stairs at the far end of the corridor, a bright lamp held aloft in one hand. The blade of the knight’s axe gleamed brightly over her left shoulder; few of the Dragon Knights went anywhere unarmed any more. Dar understood; Justice rode at his own hip, even here, deep in the sanctuary of one of the strongest citadels in Camar.
“What is it?” he asked her, as she stopped in front of him, snapping off a salute.
“The others are waiting for you, general,” she said.
He nodded. “Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes. Allera’s not with them?”
The momentary hesitation told him all he needed to know, even before she responded. “No, general. I believe she went below to speak to the prisoner.”
He didn’t respond, and she started to turn away before he forestalled her. “Wait a moment. Did they reestablish the link with Jaduran?”
“No. Jalla Calestin is still trying to puzzle out the workings of Honoratius’s Orb, I believe. But with Maricela here, and the Patriarch in Camar using sendings and wind walking messengers back and forth, we’re able to keep in fairly regular contact with the capital.”
She hesitated again, and Dar could sense the added question there. He wasn’t sure of the answer himself, so he said nothing. Petronia took it as a dismissal, so with another salute she headed back to the stairs, and the more comfortable chambers in the higher levels of the castle. The others were there, waiting for him.
Instead Dar turned and continued on his original course. He took another staircase at the end of the tunnel, descending several levels, until he was below the level of the castle walls, descending into the foundations of the bluff upon which the fortress and its surrounding town were perched. Much of the levels above were of recent construction, repaired after an assault from the first of the Ravager spawn years ago that had destroyed a good portion of the castle and town. But down here, the tunnels were hewn from the rock, and were as they had been when the fortress was first created, centuries ago. It was cold, too, but Dar was far beyond letting such a minor concern distract him.
He reached the level he wanted and headed off down a narrow corridor. A few lamps burned in niches set high along the wall, almost near the ceiling, but they were far enough apart to leave long expanses of shadow between them.
The passage wasn’t very long, and it ended in a heavy wooden door that looked capable of resisting a siege. Dar reached for the handle, but before he could touch it he heard the sound of a metal latch being drawn, and then the door opened to reveal Allera.
She started when she saw him, hopping back in alarm and nearly dropping the small lamp she was carrying before she realized who it was. “Damn it, you scared me,” she said.
“I thought you weren’t going to come down here any more,” he replied, unclenching his fist from the hilt of Justice.
“The bond between Duke Aerim and Rappan Athuk remains dormant, but it is still there. I need to check on him periodically.”
“He’s a dangerous man.”
“I can take care of myself. And in any case, there is more to him than that. I have encouraged you to meet him; his story is... complex.”
“I heard enough of his story from Jaduran to confirm that he be kept down here until this is all over.”
“That is not all that Jaduran said. His divination refers to Aerim playing a significant role in the outcome of... of all this.” Like Dar, she seemed reluctant to refer to the Ravager specifically, as if mentioning its name could somehow draw it, like a fiend from the hells.
“Bah, the gods are as cryptic as ever. That verse could be read in a dozen different ways. And ‘the fallen champion of yesteryore’ could refer to more individuals than our captive Duke.”
She looked up at him. “I had considered that as well. But having spoke to him...”
“I did not try to stop you when you restored his leg and arm, but we don’t have more time to waste on Aerim. Did you learn anything more from the wizard?”
Allera shook her head. “No. His mind is... broken, beyond my ability to repair. I do not think he knows more than what he told us, certainly nothing that would help us fight the creature.” Her frown deepened; she seemed to take any failure of her healing abilities as a personal challenge. But the Seer had been forthcoming in their interrogations; it was just that what had been done was done, and there was little more that he could give them that could help with their current problem.
“A pity we did not find any more of those stones of holy power that he spoke of,” Dar said. “Did you feel the tremor earlier?”
“I did. They have been getting stronger, of late.”
“Yes. And with our magic proving useless in tracking the creature, we have no way of knowing when or where it will choose to make an appearance.”
“We’ve been doing all that we can to get ready...”
“You were there, Allera. You know that whatever we do, it will probably not be enough.”
“We drove it away. All we need to do is find a way to trap it, and kill it.”
“To do that,” a third voice interjected, “you must draw the Ravager to you... you must give it what it wants.”
Dar and Allera spun together to face the speaker, who stood in the shadows a short distance down the corridor. Allera lifted her lamp, driving back the darkness enough to reveal the intruder.
“Where in the hells have you been?” Dar asked. “We tried to get in touch with you after the battle at Rappan Athuk, but you did not respond to our sendings.”
“My power wanes,” Amurru said, and as the lich shifted, they could see that it was only partially there; the light of Allera’s lamp shone through its body, the outline of which only barely clung together, like a wisp of smoke on a breeze. “My existence is tied to the Ravager’s prison, and like it, is now broken and crumbling into nothingness.”
“We failed to destroy the creature,” Allera said.
“I know. I sensed the outcome of your confrontation with the Ravager. You drove it away, but it has regained what it has lost, and has grown even more powerful. But while it has fed in the dark underways beneath the earth, its hunger grows stronger with each passing day.”
“We beat it once,” Dar said. “How can we force it to fight us again, on our own terms?”
The lich wavered, and for a moment it looked as though it would vanish entirely. But then the outline of the creature became more solid, the red pinpricks of light within the sockets of its eyes brightening like tiny torches.
“The Ravager is drawn to two things. Magic, and life. Its current diet is richer in the former than the latter, as the underworld realms it pillages are not as heavily populated as the world above. Its meanderings you have felt as the shaking of the world, as its claws tear into the fundament, and it opens breaches in the planet’s mantle. Eventually this damage will cause earthquakes, or open passages that allow molten fluid from the world’s core to reach up to the surface. Or it will return to the surface, likely emerging under one of the more populated cities of your world.”
Allera shook with the force of the lich’s words, but she held her head up, and she put a hand on Dar’s arm, to forestall him. The fighter’s face had darkened as the undead guardian had spoken, and had drawn a few inches of Justice from its scabbard, as though he could stop the fate predicted by Amurru through the sheer force of his anger.
“You would not have come to us if you had no answer to Corath’s question,” the healer said. “You said we had to give it what it wanted, and that it wants magic and life. That would suggest it will go to Camar, the strongest source of both on this continent. Is there any way we can divert it from that path?”
The lich regarded them for a long moment, its red eyes blazing with power even despite the tenuous nature of its presence. Finally, it said, “There may be a chance, one chance. But if you fail this time, then it is almost certain that nothing will be able to stop it.”
“We’ve heard that before,” Dar said, grunting as he slammed his sword back into its scabbard.
MEANDERINGS
The ground trembled.
Corath Dar felt it, and he paused in one of the stone passages deep within Highbluff Castle to place his hand against the nearest wall. The thrumming was clearly felt through the ancient stone blocks, and the vibration seeped through his hand into his arm, persisting for a good fifteen seconds before fading.
“Damn,” the fighter said.
“General!”
He turned at the shout, and saw Petronia coming down the stairs at the far end of the corridor, a bright lamp held aloft in one hand. The blade of the knight’s axe gleamed brightly over her left shoulder; few of the Dragon Knights went anywhere unarmed any more. Dar understood; Justice rode at his own hip, even here, deep in the sanctuary of one of the strongest citadels in Camar.
“What is it?” he asked her, as she stopped in front of him, snapping off a salute.
“The others are waiting for you, general,” she said.
He nodded. “Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes. Allera’s not with them?”
The momentary hesitation told him all he needed to know, even before she responded. “No, general. I believe she went below to speak to the prisoner.”
He didn’t respond, and she started to turn away before he forestalled her. “Wait a moment. Did they reestablish the link with Jaduran?”
“No. Jalla Calestin is still trying to puzzle out the workings of Honoratius’s Orb, I believe. But with Maricela here, and the Patriarch in Camar using sendings and wind walking messengers back and forth, we’re able to keep in fairly regular contact with the capital.”
She hesitated again, and Dar could sense the added question there. He wasn’t sure of the answer himself, so he said nothing. Petronia took it as a dismissal, so with another salute she headed back to the stairs, and the more comfortable chambers in the higher levels of the castle. The others were there, waiting for him.
Instead Dar turned and continued on his original course. He took another staircase at the end of the tunnel, descending several levels, until he was below the level of the castle walls, descending into the foundations of the bluff upon which the fortress and its surrounding town were perched. Much of the levels above were of recent construction, repaired after an assault from the first of the Ravager spawn years ago that had destroyed a good portion of the castle and town. But down here, the tunnels were hewn from the rock, and were as they had been when the fortress was first created, centuries ago. It was cold, too, but Dar was far beyond letting such a minor concern distract him.
He reached the level he wanted and headed off down a narrow corridor. A few lamps burned in niches set high along the wall, almost near the ceiling, but they were far enough apart to leave long expanses of shadow between them.
The passage wasn’t very long, and it ended in a heavy wooden door that looked capable of resisting a siege. Dar reached for the handle, but before he could touch it he heard the sound of a metal latch being drawn, and then the door opened to reveal Allera.
She started when she saw him, hopping back in alarm and nearly dropping the small lamp she was carrying before she realized who it was. “Damn it, you scared me,” she said.
“I thought you weren’t going to come down here any more,” he replied, unclenching his fist from the hilt of Justice.
“The bond between Duke Aerim and Rappan Athuk remains dormant, but it is still there. I need to check on him periodically.”
“He’s a dangerous man.”
“I can take care of myself. And in any case, there is more to him than that. I have encouraged you to meet him; his story is... complex.”
“I heard enough of his story from Jaduran to confirm that he be kept down here until this is all over.”
“That is not all that Jaduran said. His divination refers to Aerim playing a significant role in the outcome of... of all this.” Like Dar, she seemed reluctant to refer to the Ravager specifically, as if mentioning its name could somehow draw it, like a fiend from the hells.
“Bah, the gods are as cryptic as ever. That verse could be read in a dozen different ways. And ‘the fallen champion of yesteryore’ could refer to more individuals than our captive Duke.”
She looked up at him. “I had considered that as well. But having spoke to him...”
“I did not try to stop you when you restored his leg and arm, but we don’t have more time to waste on Aerim. Did you learn anything more from the wizard?”
Allera shook her head. “No. His mind is... broken, beyond my ability to repair. I do not think he knows more than what he told us, certainly nothing that would help us fight the creature.” Her frown deepened; she seemed to take any failure of her healing abilities as a personal challenge. But the Seer had been forthcoming in their interrogations; it was just that what had been done was done, and there was little more that he could give them that could help with their current problem.
“A pity we did not find any more of those stones of holy power that he spoke of,” Dar said. “Did you feel the tremor earlier?”
“I did. They have been getting stronger, of late.”
“Yes. And with our magic proving useless in tracking the creature, we have no way of knowing when or where it will choose to make an appearance.”
“We’ve been doing all that we can to get ready...”
“You were there, Allera. You know that whatever we do, it will probably not be enough.”
“We drove it away. All we need to do is find a way to trap it, and kill it.”
“To do that,” a third voice interjected, “you must draw the Ravager to you... you must give it what it wants.”
Dar and Allera spun together to face the speaker, who stood in the shadows a short distance down the corridor. Allera lifted her lamp, driving back the darkness enough to reveal the intruder.
“Where in the hells have you been?” Dar asked. “We tried to get in touch with you after the battle at Rappan Athuk, but you did not respond to our sendings.”
“My power wanes,” Amurru said, and as the lich shifted, they could see that it was only partially there; the light of Allera’s lamp shone through its body, the outline of which only barely clung together, like a wisp of smoke on a breeze. “My existence is tied to the Ravager’s prison, and like it, is now broken and crumbling into nothingness.”
“We failed to destroy the creature,” Allera said.
“I know. I sensed the outcome of your confrontation with the Ravager. You drove it away, but it has regained what it has lost, and has grown even more powerful. But while it has fed in the dark underways beneath the earth, its hunger grows stronger with each passing day.”
“We beat it once,” Dar said. “How can we force it to fight us again, on our own terms?”
The lich wavered, and for a moment it looked as though it would vanish entirely. But then the outline of the creature became more solid, the red pinpricks of light within the sockets of its eyes brightening like tiny torches.
“The Ravager is drawn to two things. Magic, and life. Its current diet is richer in the former than the latter, as the underworld realms it pillages are not as heavily populated as the world above. Its meanderings you have felt as the shaking of the world, as its claws tear into the fundament, and it opens breaches in the planet’s mantle. Eventually this damage will cause earthquakes, or open passages that allow molten fluid from the world’s core to reach up to the surface. Or it will return to the surface, likely emerging under one of the more populated cities of your world.”
Allera shook with the force of the lich’s words, but she held her head up, and she put a hand on Dar’s arm, to forestall him. The fighter’s face had darkened as the undead guardian had spoken, and had drawn a few inches of Justice from its scabbard, as though he could stop the fate predicted by Amurru through the sheer force of his anger.
“You would not have come to us if you had no answer to Corath’s question,” the healer said. “You said we had to give it what it wanted, and that it wants magic and life. That would suggest it will go to Camar, the strongest source of both on this continent. Is there any way we can divert it from that path?”
The lich regarded them for a long moment, its red eyes blazing with power even despite the tenuous nature of its presence. Finally, it said, “There may be a chance, one chance. But if you fail this time, then it is almost certain that nothing will be able to stop it.”
“We’ve heard that before,” Dar said, grunting as he slammed his sword back into its scabbard.
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