Deadline Page 24

  The brewmaster doused the perimeter of the circular room with flame gel and lit it up. The dead plant life burned quickly, sending flames stretching up the walls. The wards responded, crackling and zapping with destructive energy.

  "Fighting fire with fire..." murmured Lash.

  Kyle's grin grew.

  The fire provided a DoT that continually expended the wards closest to the floor. They exploded outward, darkened, and sucked more energy from their neighbors.

  "It's not enough," said Lash.

  "Wait for it," said the brewmaster.

  Black smoke roiled upward, gathering under the domed skylight. The whole room darkened as the moon blotted out. This, in turn, saw the magic wards slower to refill.

  "Okay, frat boy," conceded the knight. "I'll give you that one. What's next?"

  "I still can't make the climb," said Crux.

  "I'll need everyone's ropes and blankets."

  Amid the rolling flames and popping walls, they dutifully obeyed. While Conan and Glinda contained the fire to the walls, Kyle went to work. After several attempts to knot the ropes together, it was apparent he was going to need a little something extra. Given better planning and sufficient time, his plan was solid. With the burning brush a ticking clock, there was no way to execute his plan without spending his stockrig ability.

  The legendary power activated and combined his selected equipment on the fly. The four ropes and hooks became a safety net padded with blankets. Kyle hooked his crossbow into the rig, and when the wards all the way up to the balcony were weakened, he took aim and fired.

  A grappling hook shot out and clamped to the top of a balcony wall. Weak sparks protested, but the rope was secure. Kyle repeated that for the three other balconies, centering the net and blankets beneath the cage. As the last rope extended to its limit, the net went taut and settled fifteen feet above the ground, ten feet under the bird cage. It was a work of art. Such precision would've been impossible without invoking stockrigging.

  "No," said Crux. "You're not doing what I think you're doing."

  "It's the only way," returned Kyle.

  "But the statue's heavy. The net—"

  "Is the result of a legendary ability. It's not magically fortified but it's as structurally sound as it can possibly be. The net will hold as long as the hour isn't up."

  "Let me get up there at least. Make sure Hex doesn't slip off."

  Conan came over and boosted Crux to his shoulders. The thief pulled himself up and bounced in the net. "It's surprisingly stiff." He looked up. "And the positioning is perfect. This might actually work."

  "Take up positions around the net," ordered Kyle. "When she comes down, do whatever it takes to keep her steady."

  Everyone nodded and surrounded the net, except the barbarian who took it on himself to stand directly under it.

  Kyle cleared his throat. "Um, Conan, unless you want to become two feet shorter, you should stand to the side. The net's designed to lower as it absorbs the impact."

  "I knew that." The barbarian sheepishly moved.

  Kyle made eye contact with everybody to make sure they were ready, ending with Crux who was standing on the perimeter of the net. Kyle drew his personal rope and grappling hook, aimed it for the cage above, and fired. The metal claw clinked between the bars. Kyle yanked down.

  The birdcage moved and the floor swung open. The statue dropped like an anchor, catching beside Crux in the blankets. Conan lunged as the net dropped low. He caught the rope but its bounce yanked him off the ground. Crux and Conan held on as the swaying net slowed.

  "We did it!" cried the thief.

  Lash steadied a hanging Conan, whose legs were still a few feet off the ground. The net sagged a good five or six feet, but it was still a little high. The white knight hopped and grabbed the opposite rope, pulling the group further down.

  "Now what?" piped Lash.

  "Now we're done," said Crux, steadying himself against the heavy stone. "We don't need to get the statue down from here. We just need to turn it back into my sister." He pulled out the half-filled vial containing the antidote.

  Growing flames around one balcony bit at the base of the grappling hook. The rope snapped, sending the entire net lurching sideways. The thief lost his footing. He hugged the statue to catch himself, but the jerky movement knocked the wind from his lungs. The glass vial flew from his grip.

  "No!"

  Kyle pounced forward.

  Agility Check...

  Fail!

  Unsurprisingly, his crafting loadout wasn't primed for feats of dexterity. The glass vial shattered on the floor, spilling fluid between the worn tiles.

  The statue was nestled on its side, and the sudden dip caused it to shift toward the edge. Crux panicked, pulling against a rope looping the statue's arm, but the strain was too great for him. In an equal and opposite tragedy, the thief's loadout wasn't built for strength. They all watched on pins and needles as Hex slid off the net.

  Lash released her hanging hold, drew her cleaver in midair, and stabbed the ground as she landed.

  [Lash] cast Bastion

  The shield winked into being, a wide dome around her body. At eight feet tall, the barrier materialized inches below the stone figure. Instead of falling nine feet to the tile floor, the statue hit the barrier and continued sliding along its curvature.

  Conan, cut off by the energy field at his waist, was unaffected. He released the net and safely dropped through the shield to the floor. As the statue slid down the side of the dome, Conan grabbed Kyle's loose rope, hooked it around their petrified party member, and pulled hard. His chest and shoulders expanded to a barrel. His arms went taut. The barbarian looked ready to pop, but his strength slowed Hex enough that she hit the floor with a gentle knock. He released the rope slowly as Kyle helped set her upright.

  She was safe.

  The bastion shield evaporated and the party sighed in relief as Conan helped a glum Crux off the net.

  "The last of the antidote," he groaned. "All this way and I dropped it."

  "Step aside," said Glinda, "and let a good witch work." She laid hands on the statue.

  [Glinda] cast Moderate Healing on [Hex]

  The light effect fizzled out. Glinda furrowed her brow.

  "What just happened?" asked Crux, crestfallen.

  The good priest didn't know what to say.

  Kyle scowled. Crux was a good kid. He'd made mistakes, but he didn't deserve this. No one did. Not to mention whatever Hex must've been going through.

  "We still have the last resort," he announced, producing Dorfin's Decanter of Luminous Fluids.

  Glinda's eyes went wide. "Will that work?"

  The brewmaster shrugged and raised the turquoise decanter to eye level. "Okay," he warned the bottle, not skimping on the glare, "we need you right now. We need you to do the right thing. Not transforming people into trees or voluptuous strippers or making them bark like dogs. For once just give us a straightforward and uncomplicated fix, huh?"

  The brewmaster took a breath, unstoppered the bottle, and poured the potion onto the statue. The stone crumbled away and Hex blinked apprehensively.

  "I can't believe that worked," said Lash.

  "Hex!" cried Crux.

  The twins embraced, tears welling in their eyes. Kyle crossed his arms and smiled at his companions, emotions welling after the job well done.

  "It was horrible," confessed Hex, continually ruffling her black cloak like she was amazed it was soft. "The things happening here. People being turned to stone. And worse. There's some kind of plague turning the soldiers."

  "The Violet Order," said Lash. "We know about them, but our first priority is getting you home."

  "I'm afraid," announced a deep voice as a chamber door opened. "I cannot allow that." Rygar entered the aviary in a full suit of flickering purple plate.

  1890 The Darkness

  I trudged through Oldtown in the predawn darkness, Bandit at my side. We were both exhausted from hours of f
rantic travel. I really wanted some shuteye, but that was impossible. My party was scattered to all ends of the Midlands. As their leader, it was my job to make sure they each had what they needed to succeed. I couldn't let them down.

  At least the home front was quiet. Stronghold had seen its share of calamity. It was refreshing for once that we'd actually drawn the fight away from the city.

  As the magical seal to Dragonperch released and the large door swung open, Bandit skirted around the tower. The mountain bongo stopped on the bank of the Albula and turned her head to me.

  I smiled and released the drawbridge. "Have fun in the Foot." She scampered onto the bridge before it fully settled and raced across, no doubt looking forward to the greenery of the public park. Oldtown was mostly dirt, rubble, and supplies, not unlike a young boomtown in the Wild West. The whole grass-is-greener idiom is supposed to be a lesson in self-reflection and appreciation, but in this case it was the literal truth.

  I entered the tower, secured the doors, and hurried up the spiral stairs. As I climbed past the kitchen, my stomach rumbled loud enough that I considered microwaving one of Kyle's chimichangas, but curiosity beat out hunger. I had trekked all this way. A few more flights wasn't going to kill me.

  In the war room, I activated the sanctum master panel and swiped to the socket manager. The locations of my party members lit up the display. Trafford on the march, Errol by Shorehome, Izzy nearing the Blackwood, and Kyle in a sea of unmapped gray. Beside it all, the void pearl dribbled with black magic that grew excited at my presence.

  Izzy had warned me away from this. Kyle and Trafford weren't here to be my go-betweens. Ultimately, I had a choice to make: Did I care more about my sanity or the well-being of my best friends?

  It wasn't a choice at all.

  A grin spread across Errol's face as he fought the waves. "Ar, she's a big dame an' handles like a whale, but damn it all, her heft is half the fun!"

  Grom's eyebrow's creased and he turned to his busty wench. "You been cheatin' on me, woman?"

  Grug smacked the pirate in the back of the head. "He's talking 'bout the Void, barnacle for brains."

  Avisa crossed her arms and leaned on the railing at the helm. "I'm guessing you don't pay top dollar for your crew."

  "They pay themselves by scroungin' and raidin'," said Errol defensively. He leaned close. "Why, do ye actually get paid?"

  "Captain!" cried Grug. "Ships ho!"

  Grom's frown increased. "Why's everyone talkin' 'bout me tart?"

  Everyone else turned to the horizon in panic as three support vessels approached. "Ready the cannons!" ordered Errol.

  "No!" Avisa pulled an orange crystal from her sack and hurried to the bow. As she rubbed the enchanted glass, a bright signal light pierced the coastal mist. Seconds later, an orange glow shined back from the lead ship. Pleased, the sergeant spun around. "They're Brothers in Black loyal to Brugo. They couldn't face the Void without taking heavy casualties, so they held back and waited. We now have a fleet."

  Errol scanned the dark seas and opposite coastline. His home city was a war-torn mess, but he felt more invincible than ever before. "Grom, man the wheel." The pirate captain strutted across the deck of his loaner ship and followed Avisa back down to the brig.

  "So power is consolidating," murmured the Papa of all Papas as they entered. The pirates jumped at the sight of Brugo speaking with a shadowy form.

  Captain Oates drew his rapier and peered closer. "By the Maelstrom, that be you, Talon?"

  The Protector of Stronghold smiled. "Sorry to jump in on you like this."

  Errol wiped burnt powder from his face. "Well, ye arrived at a dandy time. We have Papa Brugo, four combat vessels, an' near a hundred sailors."

  "They will die for you," said Avisa solemnly. "All that's left is to retake Shorehome."

  "No." Papa Brugo clasped his arms behind his back, pressing his belly out as he paced to the end of his small cage. The scar on his left cheek sagged with his frown. "I will not rain destruction on my hometown."

  Errol started. "We're not attackin' the city, Papa, just them scurvy bastards what took it from ye. How many traitors be loyal t' Hadrian still? A hundred? Two? With the fleet on our side, we could take 'em."

  "It's not the loyalists I worry about, it's everyone else. The gangs have splintered. New bosses scramble for new destinies. I've been stripped of my powerchain, making someone else the new Protector of Shorehome. Do you imagine these newly powerful men and women would welcome my return?"

  "You've shown them who's boss before."

  "A city can be lost in a day. Winning one over is a different matter. Influence starts from the bottom."

  Talon chuckled. "The bottom-up approach."

  Eyebrows arched toward him.

  "Sorry, programming jargon."

  "He's right," said Avisa, speaking about Brugo not Talon. "If we go in there we'll be met with resistance. Not just by the loyalists, but by every street thug and two-bit hustler that found a new game."

  Brugo grumbled again. "I have no doubt we would prevail, but the fight would be bloody and earn us new enemies. No, I cannot retake Shorehome without irrefutable proof of my power."

  "How 'bout we sneak in an' steal back yer powerchain?" suggested Errol.

  Talon simpered. "I have a better idea. How would the city take to the return of the kraken?"

  The crime kingpin's eyes sparkled. "The Lurking Deep?" He thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Yes. The unrefuted symbol of the city's might would have many throw immediate support behind me. It would be a restoration of sorts. But the great titan has been banished to the under realm."

  Errol's eyes widened. "The Maelstrom..."

  A loud gasp from the steps caught everyone's attention. Blades scraped free and pointed to Grom attempting to silently retreat.

  "Sorry," he said. "I weren't eavesdroppin', I swear. I was just lookin' for orders."

  "It's fine, Grom," said Errol, sliding his rapier into its sheath.

  Talon stepped forward. "Izzy mentioned the under realm before. Something related to my shadow magic. Is it a big deal?"

  The captain grimaced. "The Maelstrom be a gapin' hole in the ocean from which nothin' escapes."

  "Depths agape," realized Talon. "The boggart witches gave me clues to finding the soulstones. The Squid's Tooth and the kraken are in the Maelstrom."

  "Now Talon," hedged Errol, voice quivering, "I be the bravest pirate o' the Six Seas, but even I ain't crazy 'nough t' ride the Maelstrom."

  "This is a simulation," said Talon. "How bad can it be?"

  Papa Brugo took in a long breath to stave off the darkening mood. "Seafaring peoples the world over share stories of the Maelstrom. The home of the beast, the sodden grave, a black hole of a hellscape to witness the end of all life. There is no hope in the abyss. Believe me, many have tried."

  Errol tensed at this and avoided Talon's gaze.

  "Heroes among pirates are common," continued the crime boss. "Any man or woman with the fortitude to stand against authority is applauded, any who stumble upon treasures revered, but I'd wager the only true heroes in our dastardly line of work are those who dare defy the sea herself. Those brave and crazy in equal measure who have stared down the abyss. Very few have ever done so. None have returned."

  "That ain't true!" swore Grom. "Cap'n Oates has done it!"

  Errol blanched as Avisa walked a circle around him.

  "No, Grom," said Brugo. "Our mutual friend claims stakes in many legends, but most don't take the veracity at face value."

  "They ain't legends," Grom asserted, "they be songs. An' we all know songs don't lie. The cap'n, he entered into a starin' contest with the Maelstrom, and the Maelstrom looked away. He says he was rewarded with skin black as midnight. Tell 'em, cap'n!"

  Avisa smirked and traced a finger along Errol's cheek. "Is that so? It seems to me you're looking a might bit pale now."

  "Nonsense," he grumbled. "It just be the black powder on me face."

  "S
o the song tells true, then?"

  The captain swallowed and checked the faces of all present. "If there's one thin' in this life ye can count on, it's that me legends be true."

  Grom brandished a satisfactory nod. Brugo was less convinced.

  Avisa moved close, corners of her mouth crooking. Her soft flesh ballooned between their bodies. "I've always admired legends."

  Errol lifted his chin proudly. "That tingly sensation yer feelin' is somethin' more than admiration."

  She stifled a laugh. "Maybe you're right."

  "So you'll do it?" asked Talon.

  "Oh, he'll do it," boasted Grom. He rapped Errol hard on the back. "Second go round will be even easier than the first. An' this time I'll be there to see it!"

  Grom was so excited he was bunching closer to his captain than Avisa was. The lady sergeant begrudgingly pulled away and Errol sighed at his change of fortune.

  "Then we'll get the soulstone, free the kraken, and save the city," said an exhilarated Talon. "But I need to make one thing clear. All this is in service to the greater goal. The ultimate plan for the artifact is to see it destroyed."

  Brugo's face twisted. "It's just like you to have some high-minded goal. I rely on the Squid's Tooth for a great many things. Then again, I find myself in a weak position to bargain." He took a tortured breath. "For doing this for me, what is it you ask in return, Protector?"

  Talon smiled. "That's easy."

  He went into his faction menu and offered the imprisoned crime boss an invitation. Brugo may have lost Underkeep and the city, he may have been stripped of the powerchain and his mantle of Protector, but he was still the official head of the Brothers in Black. The imprisoned Papa accepted the request.

  Black Hat Alert:

  The Brothers in Black have called off the war!

  Brothers in Black Reputation +100

  Black Hat Alert: