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Throne Hunters Book 3, Chapter 29
🕑 Added 2025-02-04 17:07:16 +0000 UTC“You stole this from an angel,” said Sam, tone flat, as she stared at the Eclipse Edge laid out upon the dining table before her.
Everyone was gathered around. The countess, Nessa, Vic, and Kársek. As one they stared, mesmerized, at the softly glowing blade where it lay swaddled in Kársek’s cloak.
“She dropped it,” Harald said. “After Kársek hit her with his Rune.”
Vic leaned over to stare past Nessa at them both. “Kársek. Unleashed his Rune of Destruction. On an angel.”
“Angel-kin,” said Kársek calmly. “A true angel wouldn’t have been bothered by my power. This lady was thrown back, lost her grip on her sword.”
“Incredible,” said Anna, half-reaching down to the blade’s hilt before drawing her hand back. “And it’s an Epic-level Artifact?”
“That’s right,” said Harald softly. “Worth 10,000,000 scales.”
Vic let out a low whistle. “That’s what your father emerged from the dungeon with, way back when. A Nightshard. Right here, before our eyes. Enough wealth to set any of us - or all of us - up for life.”
“We’re not selling it,” said Sam, outraged. “Is that some kind of sick joke?”
“No, of course not.” Vic looked offended. “Do you think we could find a buyer anytime soon? Selling an Artifact of this power takes forever to set up. A year at least, to allow all the major Houses to gather funds, decide how much it would weaken them due to the outlay -”
Sam rolled her eyes. “We need to return this blade. It’s one thing to take weapons from Red Fist mercenaries. Another to steal it from servants of the Fallen Angel.”
“Servants,” added Kársek mildly, “who are intent on killing Harald.”
“Can’t say I’d do any different in her shoes,” said Sam. “Sorry, Harald. But we can’t sell it, we can’t keep it.”
“You’re right.” Harald couldn’t repress a smile. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Why are you smiling?” She glanced at Kársek. “And why does he look so smug? Kársek never looks smug.”
“Because we think you should have it until we find her again.” Harald’s smile became a grin as Sam’s mouth dropped open. “There’s a funny clause in the description that states only those with pure intentions can wield the blade.”
“Well that’s me right out,” said Vic. “Damn it. The last time I could have wielded it was when I was four years old.”
“And me,” said Nessa, tone soft. She’d been transfixed at the sight of the sword, and now her voice was filled with longing.
“But -” Sam turned, darting her gaze from one person to the next. “Me? An Epic-level Artifact? You can’t be - I mean, that doesn’t…”
Harald raised his brows questioningly.
Sam’s voice grew very quiet. “You’re serious.”
“You’re the best person I know, Sam.” Harald hesitated, then looked at the others. “I mean, everyone here is wonderful, but Sam, you’ve got a purity to you. You’re a fundamentally good person. It just makes sense that you should wield the blade.”
Nessa blinked and looked up, a tiny vertical line appearing between her brows. “It makes sense, Sam. Your Abilities, your very Class - aren’t we working with the hypothesis that the Fallen Angel intervened to help you balance out Harald’s darkness? Who could be more fitting? And this will help you catch up with Harry. You’re still, what? Level 2?”
Sam flushed.
“It’s no criticism, darling,” said Vic. “You’re a delightfully talented and normal raider. Compared to everyone else, you’re advancing rapidly. Compared to Harry-boy, though? With his Demon Seed and ridiculous Ego of five hundred?”
“You should have it, Sam.” Harald nodded gravely. “It just feels right.”
Sam glanced about the crowd once more, then clenched her jaw and stared at the blade. Its light glimmered in her eyes. At last she reached down for the blade and took it up.
It flashed once, filling the dining chamber with a pure white light, then resumed its subtle glow.
“Wow,” breathed Sam, turning it from side to side.
Vic chuckled. “’Wow’, she says. A statement for the ages.”
Sam didn’t even hear him. She clasped the hilt with both hands, and then inhaled raggedly. “It’s done.”
But her words were unnecessary. In an instant, Sam appeared more. More real, more present, more commanding, more vivid. It was as if she were consuming more of the air in the room, the light subtly limning her frame, which in turn grew powerful, her shoulders broadening slightly, her posture somehow intimating an athletic prowess and readiness beyond that which she’d had before.
The effects of +4 across the board, Harald realized. “Where are your stats now?”
Sam closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply, and it seemed as if she were communing with the blade, or with her new self, possibly.
“Darling,” said Vic. “Harry asked -”
“Strength and Dexterity at 14, and Ego 12.” Her words were certain, her tone quietly confident. “Constitution 16. Presence 11.”
“The angels wept,” said Nessa. “That’s an incredible jump.”
Sam smiled as she opened her eyes. “Incredible is the word for it. I can’t even… my mind reels.”
“I’m not testing her,” said Vic quickly. “Nessa, this one is on you.”
“I won’t spar with the Eclipse Edge,” said Sam. “This isn’t a toy.”
“In that case, let’s have a round,” grinned Vic, but his voice sounded shaky, and it was clear he was having trouble meeting Sam’s stare.
Who looked back at the blade, eyes narrowing.
“What is it?” asked Harald.
“It’s synergizing with my Abilities. They’ve all been made a level more potent by the Eclipse Edge.”
Nessa shook her head in amazement as Vic once again let loose a whistle.
“Sounds like we need to get down into the dungeon,” grinned Harald.
“We can, at that.” Sam’s smile was changed. Gone was the hesitancy, the quick scan of his own mood before she chose what to reflect. There was a new solidity to her, a calmness, that made her feel subtly older.
“We did just get back,” noted Kársek. “And we did both nearly die.”
“The 16th will be too precarious to revisit,” said Nessa. “The angel-kin will be searching for you there.”
“But I want to return her blade,” protested Sam.
“Yes, but do you have to do it right away?” Vic smiled slyly. “Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun first, and help Harald achieve his goal?”
Sam frowned.
“You don’t want Harald to die, do you?” asked Vic.
Harald sighed. “Vic, stop it. We’ll go to whatever level you prefer. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Sam considered, turning the blade from side to side, and then seemed to make up her mind. Her smile was almost disturbing. “Very well. If this is a gift from the Fallen Angle, I think we should head down to the 21st.”
*
Harald had built up the 21st Level to such a degree that he’d come to start thinking of it as a Silver-ranked part of the dungeon, but no. They lined up at the Copper Gate as always, as if this was to be just another delve. The only way he could put everything into perspective was to reflect on the statue fiends that had slaughtered him and Sam on the 47th Level, which was Gold-ranked.
But still.
The 21st, and he was still only on his second Throne. This was an assault he’d not anticipated doing until the end of the week. To go now, with the Throne Hunters, felt desperately wrong.
Or would have, if Sam weren’t so quietly confident.
They were processed through the Copper Gate as always, the guards skipping their introductory spiels, and after registering their windows with the taxation officials, climbed up onto the Copper platform.
“All right, everyone.” Nessa was pale, focused, and as determined as Sam. She’d bound her black hair with a leather thong, and wore new raiding gear. “Last time to make sure you all heard me: this is an exploratory raid. We’re probing the intensity of the 21st. We’re not going to run hog-wild and get ourselves massacred. Clear?”
“Clear,” said Sam.
The rest of them nodded.
Kársek unslung his war hammer. Vic drew The Point. Harald rippled his fingers over the Dawnblade’s hilt.
The 21st was reputedly well-illumined by an artificial sun, so they dispensed with the customary scale lanterns.
“Ready?” called a familiar guard from the side, though Harald couldn’t place him.
In response, Nessa raised two Silvers and a Copper, and the polygon ceased its endless gyrations and fixed its attention on them.
The triangular face had an “XXI” notched at its base, but it hollowed out just like all the others, sinking and disappearing into a pit of absolute darkness that led into the Gate’s interior.
“Tight unit,” called Nessa, and led the way.
They rose into the air and were sucked into the dark triangle.
Flutic disappeared, and after a wrenching sense of transportation through the abyss, they appeared as one in the midst of a dense jungle.
It was as if they’d stepped into a cathedral of green and gold, with gray twisted trunks rising in gnarled columns. Vast, fern-like leaves unfurled overhead, their undersides shimmering with a faint glow that pulsed like a heartbeat. The air was heavy, humming with the drone of unseen insects, and carried a cloying sweetness, as if the vegetation exhaled nectar. Vines as thick as a man’s arm coiled down from the canopy, some writhing faintly as if alive, their ends tipped with barbed, luminous flowers. The sound of distant water trickling over smooth stones was overlaid by sudden, echoing shrieks.
“Great,” said Vic, turning in a slow circle. “This humidity is going to absolutely ruin my hair.”
Harald peered into the undergrowth. He couldn’t see far. The dark dirt was littered with branches and rotting vegetation, but no grass or other greenery grew on it. Instead, everywhere were sword-like leaves, bristling bushes, nets of vines, and pools of shadows.
“This is the worst place to hunt a terror bird,” complained Vic when nobody spoke up. “I can’t even see that far.”
“Let’s remedy that,” said Harald, and summoned Shadowpaw. The huge mastiff appeared by his side, cold mist uncoiling from his shaggy pelt, and immediately opened his mouth to let his tongue loll as he gazed about the jungle with curiosity. He sniffed, padded forward, then turned back inquisitively to Harald.
“We’re hunting terror birds. Remember them?”
Shadowpaw let out a low chuff, sniffed at the ground once more, then set off into the undergrowth.
“Sam, you’re up front with me,” said Nessa. “Kársek, you’ve the rear. Vic and Harald, flanks.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Kársek.
Harald summoned his Goldchops. He’d no pretensions of surviving this level on his swordsmanship alone. Both golden hatchets appeared beside him, their fat, gleaming heads reassuring as he felt the customary jolt to his Strength and Dexterity.
For now though, he’d hold off on tapping his Thrones. When battle was joined, he wanted full reserves so that he could employ as many Abilities as he needed simultaneously.
Their party headed out. The jungle was terribly alive around them. Insects zipped past like sling bullets, haunting calls echoed through the canopy, and the occasional scream marked something becoming a predator’s meal. All of them were on edge. They prowled forward slowly, turning and studying the environment, but to Harald at least the jungle was so alien, so filled with vibrant colors and dark nooks, that he could barely understand what he was looking at, much less take it in at a glance.
“Eyes on the canopy,” said Kársek softly from behind. “Threats can come from above.”
“Great,” muttered Vic. “Just what I needed to be worried about: terror birds dropping on our heads.”
“It’s not just terror birds here,” Nessa replied as she led them on. “Every level has a variety of threats. Kársek’s right.”
“For the record, I didn’t say he wasn’t,” protested Vic. “And by the way, why aren’t you summoning Wirmas, Harry?”
“Why should I? There’s no reaver army to lead.”
“Bait, darling. His presence increases the chances of the rest of us not being attacked.”
“Cold,” said Sam from up front.
“Am I wrong?”
“I’m not going to summon him,” said Harald. “Doesn’t feel right.”
“Pah. Some demon-addled monster you are.”
“Quiet,” commanded Nessa. “Your hound’s picked up a scent.”
Up ahead, just visible through the undergrowth, Shadowpaw had stopped, muzzle to the dirt. He snuffled, thrusting his head through a mass of low bushes, then looked back at them and chuffed.
“After them,” grinned Harald.
Shadowpaw loped off, and they followed at a run.
Harald kept the Goldchops close. They hovered about him, rotating protectively about his shoulders, and the Dawnblade gleamed in his fist. The others were similarly prepared. Nessa had a Phaseblade in one fist. Vic had The Point at the ready. Kársek brought up the rear, chugging along steadily, war hammer gripped in both hands.
But it was Sam that kept drawing Harald’s eyes. The Eclipse Edge gleamed like a brand of burning snow in her fist, and he couldn’t wait to watch her use it. By her side, free-floating, the Thornguard flew, its broad expanse covered with thorned vines.
The last time they’d tangled with the terror birds they’d been hopelessly outmatched. They’d been driven back by the endless waves of them, with only the Goldchops allowing them to manage a retreat instead of a bloody route.
This time?
Harald felt fierce joy suffuse him.
This time they were going to bring the battle home to those fuckers.
Shadowpaw slowed. Nessa raised her fist. Everyone stopped. They’d been more jogging than running, the vines and undergrowth preventing them from putting on any real speed. But up ahead it seemed to finally open up, the sunlight shining brightly through the foliage.
Trills. Alien and possibly birdlike.
Nessa crept forward, longsword trailing behind her, and parted the huge fronds to peer at the clearing beyond. A moment later she looked back and held up three fingers.
Terror birds.
She pointed at Vic and Harald and gestured for them to work their way down to the left. Sam was to come with her to the right. Kársek was to take the center.
Everyone nodded and moved.
Harald had to restrain the urge to peer through the fronds himself. The clearing beyond was bright with liquid gold light. He could make out movement, jerky and rapid, and then more trills sounded, followed by the clack of a beak.
A nest? Were the trio resting?
Didn’t matter.
When they’d curved around the clearing as best they could without losing sight of each other, Nessa held up her hand again. Three fingers. Two. Then she gestured forward with a chopping gesture, and everyone burst forward.
The sunlight was bright, but it was easy to make out their prey. Three terror birds grouped around a fallen saurian creature, its great rounded side torn open and vivid red with gore. The terror birds were feasting, their beaks gleaming red, but sedated, as if they’d already eaten their fill. Their bellies were distended, and something about them seemed different.
But there wasn’t time to reflect, to study the scene further.
Everything happened at once.
Harald activated Dark Vigor and the Aching Depths even as he felt Vic’s Aura of Cruelty and Nessa’s Harmonic Resonance and Will of the Blade suffuse the air.
The terror birds whipped their huge beaked heads about, went to squawk in outrage, but four attacks flew at them before they could respond.
Harald’s Demonic Edge, its quivering arc of endless night flying from his blade.
Nessa’s Crescent Arc, a single , devastating flash of white.
Kársek intoned, “Khazadrok,” and his Rune of Destruction flew forth.
And finally Sam swung the Eclipse Edge, unleashing Judgment’s Light, so that a tsunami of white fire flew forth to engulf the terror birds.
Who were obliterated where they stood, their forms falling apart even as they were cindered and blasted away. The trees on the far side of the clearing shook, their branches and leaves dancing as a fine mist of blood and particulate matter was blasted across their trunks and foliage, painting everything a red so dark it was nearly purple.
“Ah-ha!” cried Vic, lunging forward with The Point, only to stop and blink as he studied the devastation. “Oh.”
“Keep up, darling,” said Nessa, her smile smug.
“Wow,” whispered Sam, studying her new blade. “That felt… incredible.”
“I can’t tell who did what.” Harald stared at the chunks of flesh that lay strewn across the far side of the clearing. “But it seems to have been effective.”
Golden Dawn scales appeared where the terror birds had stood, three small groupings of gleaming glory.
“Golden Dawns!” Vic let out a little whoop and ran forward. “What a sweet sight! But of course. The 21st is where we receive Dawns instead of Silvers.” He scooped them up. “That’s… twelve Golden Dawns. Hmm. Not as much as I’d hoped.”
Sam laughed. “Are you mad? That’s as much as we’d get for slaughtering a dozen hobgoblins on the 16th!”
“Hmm, true.” Vic bounced the scales in one palm, then slipped them in his pouch. “Though I have to say this was the easiest raiding I’ve ever taken part of. Why did we stay away from here again? I can’t seem to remember.”
Nessa was frowning as she studied the small clearing. “That was almost too easy. Anybody else notice how those terror birds looked different?”
“Aye,” said Kársek. “Their plumage was grayer. They seemed smaller.”
“Right,” said Harald. “That’s it. I couldn’t put my finger on it before. But maybe they were younger?”
“Fledglings,” agreed Nessa. “And thus easier to kill.”
“Which explains why we only got four Dawns each,” said Vic. “Wonderful! A full-grown terror bird should net us - what? Six? Eight? Now we’re talking.”
“No Servitor Crystal,” said Sam. “Looks like we need to press on.”
“Oh, stop trying to sound so matter of fact,” laughed Vic. “You’re dying to use that pretty sword again.”
“Maybe I am,” grinned Sam. “What of it?”
“No complaints here. Though. If I’m to contribute, I’m going to need to figure out a different way to help.” Vic rubbed at his chin. “I’m suddenly painfully aware of my lack of a ranged attack.”
“Should have tried harder, earlier,” said Nessa. “But we’ll see if we can’t find a wounded fledgling to let you put down while we watch.”
Vic stuck his tongue out at her.
“Even with their being fledglings,” mused Harald, “they didn’t stand a chance against our combined attacks. I think we would have demolished even full-grown terror birds.”
“In small groups, sure.” Nessa was watching Shadowpaw, who’d gone to the far side of the clearing and begun lapping at the bloodstained leaves. “But Kársek can’t let loose endless Runes in quick succession, and both our strikes take up a lot of our Thrones.”
“I’m not sure how quickly I can release an Eclipse Edge,” said Sam. “But it didn’t feel like a huge drain.”
“You have an Epic Artifact,” said Kársek calmly. “Just as Harald’s Goldchops can kill without stopping, I would imagine your blade can use its powers without end.”
“So unfair,” sighed Vic.
“My point is, let’s not get cocky,” said Nessa. “Shut up, Vic.” Vic had opened his mouth, but frowned and snapped it shut. “Let’s press on. Also, remember: just because we see a small group, it doesn’t mean there aren’t more close by. Don’t assume the battle is over until we’re sure reinforcements aren’t coming. That’s a real problem with how dense this undergrowth is.”
Everyone nodded and eyed the wall of shifting green around them.
“All right, Shadowpaw.” Harald sauntered over to the mastiff, who looked frustrated at not being able to do more than lick the misted red leaves. “Ready for more?”
The mastiff rumbled deep in his cavernous chest and set forth, sniffing at the ground. He looped around till he found the terror birds’ scent, then whoofed and set off after it.
Everyone fell into an easy jog, and this time Harald had the Goldchops circle their column in a defensive pattern, ready to intercept any ambushes.
The jungle floor sloped upward. Fat droplets of water fell from the canopy above. The ground was soft with rotting leaves over thick loam. They crossed a rivulet, then a faster stream. More screams and furious cries sounded from the distance.
“Thank the angels Shadowpaw can get us back,” said Sam, falling in alongside Harald. “I doubt I could find the portal now.”
Harald grunted his agreement.
The ground grew steeper, and abruptly became a rise that broke free of the canopy, an upraised ridge where gray rock broke free of the earth. They scrambled up its rough side, bouldering up the last few yards, and broke free into the sunlight once more to gaze into a caldera that lay open before them.
“Oh, damn,” said Sam. “That’s not good. Is it?”
It looked like the site of a meteor impact. The crater was huge, big enough to encompass the entire Angelic Quarter, its sides of raw stone and earth sloping gently down to a huge mound that had been built up in its center. Easily forty or fifty yards tall, the mound was mottled brown and riddled with large holes. Dead insectoid monsters littered the ground by the hundreds, their antlike forms torn apart, while terror birds stood on terraces outside the tunnel entrances, lazing in the sun, or walked up and down the ramps that led from the tunnel mouths to the crater floor, their huge heads jutting back and forth with each step.
“There have to be hundreds of them,” said Kársek, tone grim.
“We back away slowly,” said Nessa. “We’re absolutely not ready for this. Look what they did to that ant army.”
Nobody argued. They began to edge back down the stone ridge into the jungle when a raucous cry sounded from their left flank.
Shadowpaw snarled and leaped, but missed as the adult terror bird sprang away, its bare, reptilian legs carrying it up into the sunlight as it landed on the ridge.
Harald and Nessa both unleashed their attacks simultaneously, carving the sunlight with their own blazing arcs of black and white light, but it was too late.
Just before the terror bird staggered back, its chest and neck savaged by the assaults, it managed to loose a single, piercing cry that echoed out across the crater.
“Damn,” hissed Nessa. “Run!”
Comments
Jonathan Nading
“Very well. If this is a gift from the Fallen Angle, I think we should head down to the 21st.” would read better as "Fallen Angel" imo
ShivaMcTimber
TYFTC! Terror birds taste like chicken.
