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A Story Of Might And Magic: Book 1
CHAPTER 5: The Death Of King Louis
"This is ridiculous," panted Wacko. "We can't go on carrying six people. You must change them back."
"Can't... yet." breathed Inja Yew. "I'm still... regenerating. Distract the Eye."
Wacko nodded and flew towards the Eye, noting that his pouch was one Shuriken lighter than before. He could see three more approaching from the far end of the cavern, hovering at their leisure, knowing a Gargoyle was no match for the four of them.
The first thing Inja Yew did was to cast a Sound Barrier spell. This was to be a mission of stealth: No sounds of conflict would leave the watery cavern. Unfortunately, they were not immune to alarm traps... Inja crouched quietly next to the stoned heroes, Gruesome squatting on his shoulder, counting the seconds until he could cast his first Stone to Flesh spell.
Wacko grabbed an unenchanted Shuriken from his pouch and threw it right at the center of the suspended eyeball. Almost instantaneously, a spark of electricity shot out from the pupil, striking the Shuriken dead on. The Shuriken slowed, stopped, and reversed direction. Wacko had just enough time to duck, narrowly avoiding a serious injury from his own weapon. Not wasting any time, the Gargoyle pulled out another Shuriken and threw it, once again at the Eye's center. It reacted too fast: The Shuriken came back with blinding speed, slashing his left bicep. He had no way of knowing it, but Wacko could swear the Eye was laughing.
"Hey!" yelled Inja, risking his cover being blown, "The Eye shoots at what it sees right in front of it! Don't fire at the center!"
Wacko dipped down to avoid the Eye's wrath. A ray of lightning streaked between his legs. He stopped his descent just above the water, remembering that there he would be a sitting duck for a lightning attack. This time his Shuriken went intentionally off target: he shot at the right extreme of the eyeball.
The Evil Eye once again reacted, shooting at the Shuriken, but as it wasn't coming directly towards it, it was harder to hit. The Shuriken finally hit its mark. A wet puncturing sound could be heard and the Eye started to sway. Not wasting any time, Wacko flew at it, ripping it to shreds with his bare claws.
Finally!, thought Inja. He had enough power to un-Stone one of the figurines. Naturally, he chose Dométma, who could help him un-Stone everyone else. Slowly, Dométma's features started to become more lifelike.
As Wacko relished his triumph over the insidious Eye, a warm, fuzzy feeling came over him. Little did he know it, but the other three Eyes had approached within spell range, and one had cast an Insanity spell upon him. All he knew now was that he knew everything and nothing: He could see a few humanoids, and floating thingies, but could not tell which was friend and which was foe. With the swift, cold logic of the Ninja within him, he took it upon himself to fire at everybody.
"There we go," said Inja as Dométma started to regain consciousness. Suddenly a Shuriken hit him square in the back. Inja gasped and fell on the steps. Still a little hazy, Dométma touched the fallen Mage and cast a Slow spell to keep him from bleeding to death. He turned and saw Wacko, eyes wide open with insanity. He was reaching into his pouch to fire at one of the Eyes - looked like he was alternating. Wasting no time, Dométma cast Stone to Flesh on the remaining five statues. As they were regaining consciousness, he cast a Force Blast on one of the Eyes. The Eye was knocked to the water just as it was firing a Lightning spell on Wacko. In its weakened state, it was immediately electrocuted. Instinctively, the remaining two Eyes floated a little higher up.
As Wacko's insanity grew, he saw that he needed desperately to tear the head off of that Sorceror standing at the steps. With a war cry that would have alerted the whole castle were it not for the Sound Barrier, he lunged at Dométma.
King Louis didn't know who to cry out for in that instant: Wacko, a fellow adventurer and friend who had proven his trustworthiness and loyalty over the years, or Dométma, his Court Magician, and in many ways, his father figure.
Dométma waited until Wacko was in contact - then, with expert timing, he cast another Slow spell. Wacko's expression comically changed, slowly of course, from one of battle fury to that of confusion, as Dométma ducked and let him fly his slow way into the wall of the staircase.
Artemia saw the perfect opportunity to use his longbow: He grabbed it, pulled an arrow out of his quiver, and aimed. An Insanity spell struck him, but he managed to resist it, although it did make him stagger.
Another hit Lord Roberts. He was transported immediately to the other world. He went though some motions controlling Max, but little did he know his body on this world was doing the exact same thing. The others ignored him for now: He hauled some invisible sack and went on walking into the wall where Wacko crouched, holding his nose and moaning slowly.
StormMaster smiled grimly as he chanted the incantation for the Psychic Shock spell. One eyeball went reeling backwards, and just as it started coming forwards again, an arrow sank itself deep in the pupil. It went down without a sound, leaving one more.
Suddenly, Lord Roberts was no longer carrying trash in Max's body, he was back in his own. Without thinking, he pulled out his flute and started playing. In his unharmonious state, all that came out was garbage. Back in the Other World, Max had dropped the garbage bag, and was playing an invisible flute, much to the amusement of his partner and onlookers.
A strange vortex began to form around the remaining Eye. Some sort of a levitating power, perhaps the same keeping that monstrosity afloat, was lifting the very water from the pool and forming a protective barrier around the Eye. Dométma cast an Incineration. The water barrier puffed with steam. Some of the fire damage had been inflicted upon the eye, but it was trivial to what the thing could ultimately withstand. Artemia let fly with a barrage of arrows, most were reflected. Krundard and StormMaster too were having limited success with their spells. More water just kept filling in the breaches.
King Louis sheathed his sword, knowing it would do no good to him at this distance. He reached into Lord Robert's rucksack as the Elf obliviously played on, his music serving nothing but to annoy those around him.
From the rucksack Louis found what he was looking for: A rope and grapple hook. He pulled it out, and, mindful of the attacks the Eye was still hurling at them, swung it in a wide arc. He swung once, twice, then, when he got the timing just right, let go. A few suspenseful moments later, a thud was all he needed to hear. He tugged at the rope once, heaved himself onto it, and started shimmying his way up.
Because the grapple hook had lodged onto the Eye's bottom, King Louis' weight prevented it from looking down and thus electrocuting him. It fired erratically at the rest of the group, all huddled at the foot of the stairs, firing back, doing their best not to hit the rope.
In a surprisingly short amount of time, the King was at the Eye's level. He took out his sword and started thrusting at it. The creature began to rise up as if to escape. Unfortunately for it, the replenishing supply of water became out of reach and the spellcasters' attacking efforts became much more fruitful. Finally the thing dropped out of the air, splashing in the water. King Louis landed a little more slowly, thanks to Dométma's Feather Fall spell.
King Louis splashed on top of the floating crumpled heap of flesh and goo that was the Eye he felled, disentangled himself, and swam towards the rest of the party.
"Good thinking, old man!" laughed the Gargoyle, healed from his bout of insanity.
"Maybe getting old isn't so bad after all," was the Paladin King's reply.
"Come on, people, time's a-wastin'," called Lord Roberts in an obvious attempt to sound nonchalant after what he had put both his personas through. Nobody knew what that phrase meant, but they got the gist of it. Elspeth had told them that almost all the stairwells led all the way to the top, and Wacko and Inja knew the machine room was on the same floor as the dungeon, which was underground - apparently the Warlord chose that level to put his machines and The Ancient Device because anyone else would assume it was at the top. Unable to go down, the group took the obvious alternative up the stairwell they were standing in front of.
The party wound their way up through the twisting corridors. It wasn't long before they reached the castle proper. The passageways hewn in stone gave way to the stone and mortar construction of the fortress. They came to the dungeon entrance and began to wind their way back down. There were structures that should have been guard posts. They were unmanned, or unmonstered. The heavy aura that filled the place was enough of a deterrent. Dometma, Storm Master and Artemia stopped.
"We can go no further, though logic suggests that the passageways a bit further are no different than where we are, there is a presence in our minds that grows stronger with each step. A feeling of dread that is unbearable."
"It is the artifact" Inja tried to explain "The containment around it lasted but a few hours. I have felt this before, and it does get worse. We shall be at a greater disadvantage as we get closer. At some point it will become so bad that the very powers that we possess and our very health will be drained from us. When we are so close to death as to be on its doorstep, the great void shall eat away at our very matter. When this happens not even the gods can cure us to our former selves or restore our power to the level we once had." His hands gave himself up as an example of the artifacts power.
"Well, thank you for those encouraging words Inja" Krundard muttered in an agitated voice. "Let me see what I can do" The cleric began casting his morale building spells and all the protection spells he could manage. Soon the influence of the artifact was dulled. Confidence within the party grew as they perceived themselves a bit more immune to the evils of this place.
"Let us continue" King Louis demanded authoritatively. His tone and demeanor inspired his comrades to cast aside their despair and rally on.
Into the range of perception of the wizards eye came many yellow points. There were hundreds of them and they were clustered in a small area. There was an occasional red point but it was simply drowned out by the indicators of many neutral beings in the area. The group stopped again to consider the implications.
"We must go further down" Inja prodded , "the artifact as well as the room with the devices is another level down."
"This area, must be some sort of a prison" King Louis wisely pointed out "Why is it here, and if it is a prison of the warlord then it's occupants must be released."
"Later, later" Inja said nervously, "remember as we get closer the artifact will start to drain our lifeblood, we can not afford to tarry about until that damn object is destroyed."
"You mean those prisoners, the hundreds of people, who could be MY subjects are being drained of their lives, right now?!"
Inja closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. "I cannot tell, let us move closer"
The group advanced toward the masses of imprisoned souls. "There, you can tell off to the distance seems to be a room with but a few of the neutral subjects. This, I think, is right above the artifact. The people in that room are being converted into zombies, the rest that we sense are in some holding area" Inja offered weakly. He could sense that the king's priorities were changing.
"Whatever it is that we must do and however long it must take, this area must take precedence" the king demanded in a tone that was born of authority. The good king's rule was based on the foundation of his loyalty to his people. His command came with an unquestionable authority that was backed a commitment that could not be unconscionably set aside. "For every moment we waste, another fellow creature that is our ally falls. The artifact must wait, our moral obligation is to those in the most danger right now"
The king received no argument and the party strode boldly onward.
They reached a T intersection. The passageway ahead was quite large, it was intended for larger objects and creatures to pass through. The path to the left seemed to lead to the holding area, the path to the right led to the room. A hostile creature with several neutrals was approaching. The group readied themselves for an ambush just around the corner of the large passageway. Wacko entered the passageway and allowed his stony body to blend in perfectly with the stone wall on the opposite side of the main passageway.
The creature he saw approaching was unlike any monster he had ever seen or heard of. It was not of this world. The closest approximation was a giant crab. Its body was roughly 12 feet in diameter of dull olive drab coloring. It had six enormous legs that moved swiftly without a sound. Two giant claws held four limp bodies. On top of its back sat a small man in a white coat. Behind him rose a white tube approximately 3 feet in diameter topped by a small white dome.
Wacko's rage built quickly.. The man that was riding the beast was none other than the torturer he had become so intimately acquainted with. His desire for revenge quickly overpowered his sensibility and the gargoyle attacked. He threw his shurikens almost instinctively. Each flew perfectly aimed at a vital looking joint in the heavily armored body of the crab monster. Each bounced off insignificantly after a metallic clang. The thing was entirely made of some metal. The gargoyle launched himself at the small man.
King Louis was somewhat annoyed at his friend, but he trusted him knowing that whatever decision he made must have had a good reason for it. The group had lost a certain element of surprise. No longer would they be able to attack from the side and back. They had to make a frontal assault and the king waved his singing sword in a charge. Their first view of the creature caused everyone's heart to skip a beat. The gargoyle was totally lost in a rage and was trying to claw to death a small man on top of a giant crab monster. Unfortunately for the gargoyle, the man was encased in some sort of a glass bubble that seemed impervious to his claws. The small man had certainly been surprised by the attack. Frantically he began manipulating levers and the crab monster dropped its cargo of prisoners and poised for attack.
The white cylinder opened up behind the glass dome. A device not unlike the rockit launcher emerged from within. It looked to be smaller, but there were several of them arranged in a cylindrical pattern. The device let forth a terrifying howl as a ball of flame appeared at its end. The flame did not advance but a series of projectiles shot forth at the adventurers at such a rate that individual shots could not be distinguished. In a fraction of a second the rain of metal swept across the hallway. Large chunks of the wall were chipped away, no adventurer was spared. The projectiles punctured their bodies like multiple sword jabs. They had all been thrown back in agony. The good king's superb armor and the powerful protection enchantments kept his damage to a minimal. He was on his feet quickly and charging once more.
The gargoyle, seeing his friends so easily injured quickly regained his sense of composure. He grabbed the shooting device in the turret and began wrestling with it, figuring to cripple the monster's bite. This weapon was tremendously strong, but the gargoyle managed to hold on and push it in whatever direction it was aiming so as to cause it's aim to overshoot the party. The device was deafening and it grew extremely hot as it fired it's projectiles helplessly at the walls.
The king was the first, other than Wacko, to reach the beast. He hacked at a claw with all his might. It worked for he seemed to shatter some vital artery of the beast. A thick black liquid spurted out of one claw, and it dropped helplessly to the ground. Before he could spin to attack the other claw, it had swung around and grabbed him.
The claw lifted the king off the ground as if he were a toddler. It brought him up in front of the hellish projectile launcher. Wacko saw that the thing was going to fire point blank into his leige and applied all his strength to diverting projectiles. Alas it was for naught. The king was too close for a slight change in angle to make much difference. The device riddled the kings left side of the body. The armor and spells were not enough to to stop these deadly blows. In his last breath the king summoned forth the strength of Poutine and unleashed a superhuman blow to the phalanx gun (as Lord Roberts would later describe it).
The device was damaged and the next burst blew it apart, sending the gargoyle and king flying across the hallway. The arm had not let go of the king however. It was not functioning properly as it dragged the limp body in front of a small opening in the crab body. A bolt of pure energy obliterated what remained of the king into a fine powder. The rest of the group were now recovered enough to attack as well. The events transpired so quickly that no one had much chance in aiding the poor king. Krundard fell to his knees in despair, realizing that there was not even enough of his liege left to resurrect. Time seemed to stop for him as the disbelief of this event would not let him focus on anything else.
Inja leapt, as gracefully as he could, with several pounds of iron in his belly. He landed on the back of the beast. He had noticed, where the explosion had caused some cracks to develop in the glass canopy. He brought down his mighty staff, trying to break open the protective shell of the beast's master. All he needed was a small hole, he thought, to stick a finger in and launch some sparks.
Wacko shook himself out of his daze just in time to see his Liege turned into a fine powder. A sudden cloak of numbness started to overcome all his senses, but he fought it back with all his willpower. He was suddenly glad for the combined effects of the Morale spells Krundard had cast and the gash in his leg.
Inja lay low on the metal monster's back, as it rocked and swayed, its fighting capability mostly gone. The man in white - who Inja knew as Koeron - was frantically squirming in his little capsule, reaching down for something. Every now and then, when he could keep his balance, he brought down his staff once more. He didn't want to keep this up much longer: Magic staff or no magic staff, he could feel it straining under the pressure.
The Crab advanced upon the rest of the group, its front orifice opening once more to unleash the devastating fury that annihilated the King. An arrow found the hole with a singing thud. A sharp electric sound could be heard - but that wasn't enough to stop it from firing and turning the arrow to nothing. The group jumped back, escaping any serious damage.
Wacko managed to stand, noting faintly that one of his wings was broken. He was standing behind the Crab now, where the prisoners were still sitting, dazed. He took out a handful of Shuriken and fired them with fury at the little man in white - to his increased outrage, they all bounced back without fail.
Krundard kept himself busy healing all the ShrapMetal-like wounds on himself and the heroes around him. His main focus now was the big bottle of wine he had stowed away with him, that he would definitely need very soon...
Dométma did what he does best in such a situation: Think. He watched the ensuing battle, hoping for an opportunity. When he realised what Inja Yew was doing, he signaled to StormMaster. Now he was standing on StormMaster's shoulders, and a redeeming smile was on his lips.
From the Court Magician's fingers spat an Acid Burst, right on the Crab's back in front of Inja. It hissed and fizzed for a minute. When the tears in Inja's eyes cleared, he could see straight through the Crab's armor! Instead of blood and gore, there was just a contorted mass of metallic strings. Nevertheless, Inja stuck one finger in, and cast his favorite spell.
As the electricity left his finger, the effect was immediate. The Crab's insides all crackled and snapped. As he withdrew his finger, Inja inadvertantly touched one of the strings. A force like a giant invisible hand threw him up to the ceiling, smashing against it and landing right in front of the Crab. He sat up, hair on end, truly looking like a Mad Mage. The Crab was still standing, and its mouth-weapon was just inches from his face. It made a low whirring noise as the mouth opened once more - and then its legs gave out.
The bubble that the bespectacled man was sitting in faded out of existence. Wacko, truly full of rage now, and despite his leg and wing, ran at the man just as he frantically raised a metal handle with a hole in the front of it. He pulled a trigger, and a small slug entered Wacko's shoulder. That was barely enough to slow him down as he slammed into the man.
They landed right in front of the rest of the group. Wacko picked up the dazed little man's head with one hand, and raised the other - intending to crush the skull to dust with one blow.
A touch on the shoulder, and Wacko found everyone was moving ten times faster than he. That Dométma, he thought with uncontrolled and frustrated fury, turning to face the magician and kill him - kill them all.
"NO, Wacko," said Lord Roberts as he saw the look on his face, "We need this man for interrogation." He knew Wacko wouldn't understand - right now his words were probably little squeaks to the Gargoyle.
As he watched Lord Roberts and StormMaster grab his torturer and ask him questions, the Slow spell eventually fading off, Wacko felt a sense of tranquility take him over. What was he thinking? He could have gotten them all killed! When this was all over, he would need to do some serious meditation with his Ninja sensei.
The group withdrew back into the tunnel from which they came. The noise of the battle was sure to attract the denziens of this place. The party had much healing to do, and some tough decisions to make. Sure enough, two creatures from the draining room were approaching.
Wacko took up a meditation position. He was desparetly trying to come to grip with the reality of loosing a good friend. He selectively ignored the healing touch of Krundard. Instead he focused on the many times he had shared with the king. Both were in each other's depbt a countless times for their lives. Who actually owed the other, mattered not. What Wacko owed to the king was not just the value of his life, but the meaning of it.
Time was running short, the creatures were rounding the corner. Wacko opened his eyes. His new battle cry came to him instantly as he saw two liches approaching. "For the Kiiiinnnngggg! We could really use him noooowwwwww!"
The liches really stood no chance. Before they knew they were under attack, a vast array of weapons and spells was already, inevitably launched at them.
Their undead bodies were subjected to arrows, swords, deadly spells and the claws of a berserking gargoyle. The entire confrontation lasted but a few seconds. The liches had not even a chance to raise a weapon in defense. Afterwards Wacko ran around, most displeased with himself. In his claws he held several dismembered limbs, which he had ripped off the liches in his demented state. His body retched and he spit repeatedly as he paced the hallway. "I can't believe I bit one of those things. Aaaauuggghh!"
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
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