Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4267292" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 53SACRIFICES Reality spun and then resolved with a lurching suddenness.  Ghazaran stumbled and would have likely fallen if it had not been for the rail attached to the metal gantry.  He looked up, a bit disoriented, into the mass of the gray pyramid, rising up high above him, almost to the apex of the domed ceiling high above.  They were only about fifteen feet above the floor, but it felt like a lot more than that. “What... what happened?”“The degree of power present here is interfering with my magic,” Ozmad explained.  He was offering something to the cleric; after a moment to gather himself Ghazaran realized that it was one of the jeweled daggers.  The ruby set into the hilt gleamed brightly, as though drinking in the pale light that radiated from the pyramid.  The ogre was holding another of the daggers; the one with the blue gem, Ghazaran realized.  Looking around, he saw that they had traveled around the perimeter of the room.  From their current position, he could not see the entrance, although he could still hear the sounds of the battle with the ravager spawn. “The lich will realize where we have gone,” the ogre said, impatient.  He all but thrust the hilt of the dagger into the cleric’s chest.  Ghazaran took it, holding it gingerly.  The disorientation from his passage through Ozmad’s dimension door was beginning to fade.  He could see two of the colored beams from their current position, one red, one blue.  Matching the daggers, he realized.  He looked up at the ogre with a question on his lips.  “The warlock has the third,” the ogre said before he could speak.  “Zafir Navev knows what must be done.”Ghazaran nodded.  Apparently Ozmad had been making arrangements of his own on the side.  The ogre mage had long guided his own plans, and was possessed of secrets that had surprised the cleric more than once.  But for the nonce, their interests appeared to be in alignment, and Ghazaran felt a sudden singularity focus his thoughts as the realization of his goal drew close at hand. “The dagger-key will protect you from the beam,” the ogre was explaining.  “Do not relinquish it.  It will be needed to destroy the power source as well.  There may be another guardian as well, within the generation chamber.  Do not linger; there are other powers at work here.”The cleric clutched the dagger tightly.  “The hour has come,” he said.  Ozmad nodded, and without further discourse turned and strode toward the opening where the blue beam lanced out into the pyramid.  That was further away from the entrance, leaving Ghazaran the task of moving closer to the battle that still raged, from the noises that echoed oddly throughout the place.  The ogre’s warning about the guardian remained fresh in his mind as well, so he did not loiter, moving as quickly and quietly as he could along the gantry, toward the source of the red beam. * * * * * The Seer watched the ravager spawn engage the Camarians, although he felt only limited security within the protective embrace of his invisibility.  His illusion had worked with superb efficacy, but he knew he was outmatched by the sorceress that accompanied the other group, even before she summoned that clenched fist.  With the bulk of his reserve already expended, he had no desire to engage in a magical duel, even for the items of power that the enemy caster no doubt possessed.  His philosophy was to know when to retreat to fight another day; it had stood him in good stead over the years.  But he’d only taken a single step back when he sensed a sudden chill, a dark presence at his back.  Spinning, words of magic already forming on his lips, he froze as a skeletal claw seized him by the throat.  The chill pierced his skin and penetrated to his bones, and the spell he’d been starting to cast fled.  Everything faded into indistinction, save for the twin pinpoints of red fire that held his attention fully. “Where are the keys?” the lich said, its words forming complete in his mind. * * * * * Dar felt as though his arm was being torn from its socket.  The creature’s sweeping claw had only just clipped his shoulder, but one of the long black talons had pierced his armor, digging deep into the joint.  The wound was terrible, but in a strange bit of luck the vicious tug as it yanked the clawed limb around pulled him out of the path of its snapping jaws.  The ridged edge of the monster’s head had rang his helmet hard enough to make him see stars, but he’d avoided the fate suffered by Qatarn just a few moments ago.  For a moment all he saw was a red blur, and then the pressure on his shoulder vanished, and the floor rose up to meet him.  Pain exploded again as he landed hard, awkwardly, on the damaged shoulder, but he embraced it, fighting through the agony as he had so many times before.  Somehow, he’d kept his grip on Justice with his other hand, or maybe the sword had clung to him, somehow.  It had felt that way sometimes, when he’d wielded Valor.  He could not see.  As he staggered to his feet, he pulled off his helmet; the battered and dented metal now offered more hindrance than protection.  Blood trailed down his face; there was a gash above one of his eyes, and he blinked in an attempt to clear his vision.  The monster was there, just a few paces away.  Kiron had stepped forward to engage it, explaining why it hadn’t torn him apart while it had had him at its mercy a moment past.  The knight’s sword blazed a bright path, but even though the hit was a solid one, Dar could see how slight the wounds it had taken were.  It was regenerating, slowly, and he knew how durable these things were.  Knew from experience.  Without Letellia’s spellpower, and Allera’s healing...He pushed that thought ruthlessly aside with an angry shake of his head.  He’d taken a beating just in the few seconds since Allera had left with the sorceress, but this was not the first time he’d absorbed wounds that would have killed a lesser man.  He was older, and maybe not wiser, but he was still Corath Dar, and no overgrown weasel was going to put an end to him. His yell caught the monster’s attention; it spun to face him as he began his charge.  Its black eyes shone; blood trailed in runnels down the sides of its jaw.  It answered the man’s cry with a roar of its own, and dove forward to meet him.</blockquote>

Verification