World At War Page 3

  Fibble unconsciously raised his butt in the air like a sleeping infant before emitting yet another noxious bomb. Then he smiled and settled back into the straw.

  Lugs fled the stables, feeling sorry for any of the livestock trapped in there. The moment he stepped outside, the bright sunlight assaulted his eyes. He closed his eyes and held his head between his massive ogre hands, trying to remain upright. His hangover defeated him and he fell backward onto his rump with a grunt. A few passersby cheered or applauded. He wasn’t sure if it was for his fall, or some stunt he’d pulled the night before. He was getting used to that. A surprisingly small amount of alcohol in his big body would send him into drunken shenanigans that he mostly didn’t remember. But his friends and neighbors were sure to remind him later.

  His eyes finally adjusting, he looked around. Not many people were moving about for what looked like the middle of the day. He guessed the others had celebrated quite a bit too. Getting to his feet, he stumbled to the food place. The dining area. There, he found Helga face-down at a table. He pulled up a stump, which he used to sit at the end of the table, as his body was too big for the benches. Dropping himself onto the stump, he looked longingly toward the kitchen. As hungry as he was, he didn’t think he had the energy to get up and fetch food. Then he noticed Helga’s uneaten breakfast next to her head.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, as he reached across and snagged her plate. The bacon and eggs were cold now, but he didn’t care. He wolfed them down, along with a full pitcher of water. With his hunger at least partially abated, he decided to join Helga and put his head down. The table was cool and felt nice against his face.

  He was just dozing off when a loud voice invaded his skull. “Mornin, ye lightweights!” Brick thumped Lugs on his back, then slammed his breakfast plate onto the table. “Good party last night.” He took a long drink of ale from a mug, then looked at Lugs with a grin. “Yer robot moves were legendary! That’ll be the most popular video on the nets today, fer sure!”

  Lugs’ eyes opened wide, horrified. “Did… you say robot moves?”

  “BWAHAHA!” Brick’s laughter startled Helga and she fell backward off the bench. “Ye don’t remember? First ye thought ye killed Fibble and was cryin’ like a girly what lost her dolly. Then when the lil fella came ‘round, ye celebrated with some spirits. Next thing we know’d ye was robot’n all ‘round the square!”

  A few blistering curse words drifted up from where Helga lay on the ground. A hand appeared and latched onto the table as she pulled herself up. “Damned dwarf. Have the decency to be hungover like the rest of us.” She looked around for her breakfast, but couldn’t find it. Deciding she’d imagined it, she went to kitchen to get some food.

  Seeing where she was headed, Lugs called out, “Would you bring me some, too? Please?” He sounded so pathetic she took pity on him and nodded her head.

  Brick was happily shoveling scrambled eggs past his beard into his mouth. Lugs just held his head and prayed that Brick was done talking. His prayers were not to be answered.

  The dwarf waited for Helga to come back and take a seat. As she handed a heaping plate of food to Lugs, Brick began, “So did ye hear? Jules be wakin’ up tonight!”

  It was a few seconds before the information registered with either the barbarian woman or the ogre. Helga was first. She dropped her fork and leaned across the table toward Brick. “Like, for real? They’re bringing her out of her pod?” At this, Lugs paused mid-shovel with his fork above his plate.

  “Yup!” The dwarf had to be purposely talking too loudly. “Alexander took her ta Stormforge fer some quality time. In case somethin’ goes badly. Then tonight they’ll be wakin’ her up and she’ll get to see just how ugly Alexander actually be!” He chuckled at his own joke.

  Helga shot him a dirty look. “She loves him. And Alexander’s not ugly! A little scrawny, maybe. But not ugly. You big musclebound lout!”

  Lugs piled on, happy to get a little payback for all the noise. “And among the three of us here, you’re the only one who’s kissed him like he was Sleeping Beauty.” Helga snorted and glared at Brick, who was laughing.

  “Ye got me there. Alexander do be pretty enuff, I suppose. Fer a damned elf.” He winked at Lugs. The three of them settled into silence as they ate their breakfasts and considered Jules’ upcoming rebirth. Eventually Sasha joined them, then one by one the other players drifted in. A sort of impromptu officer’s meeting happened with Warren, Lyra, Max, Lainey, Beatrix, Benny, Misty, Grumpy, and even Pollock taking seats at the table. Sasha shared the news with those who hadn’t heard and they all took a few minutes to soak it in. The loss of Dayle was still fresh in their minds and hearts, and they were concerned for Jules.

  Beatrix lightened the mood. “We’ll need to have another party when she comes back!” The table collectively groaned, most of them still hungover from the last party. “No! I mean it! We don’t have to go all crazy like last night. But we should show her we’re glad she’s better. Like, really better!”

  Sasha and Lainey joined in. “Beatrix is right. We’ll make it a small affair in the Great Hall. Just us players and a few of the leading citizens. The O’Malleys can cater it for us. I’m sure they’d be willing,” Sasha said.

  Lainey added, “We could make her something. A gift of some kind. I mean, what does she like besides knives and leather? And sexy dresses?”

  Brick and Lugs spoke in unison: “Pancakes,” getting a laugh from several at the table.

  Brick continued with a gleam in his eye. “That might not be a bad idea. Serve the lass pancakes fer dinner.” Several people up and down the table smiled and nodded at that. He added, “I’ll spend a bit o’ time at me forge today ‘n make her a special knife. We’ll say it be from all o’ us.”

  Lainey said, “My leatherworking has taught me a bit about needlework. I’ll try my hand at a dress.”

  Misty sighed. “No, let me. I learned the tailoring skill so I could make my own robes at low-level. It’s not very high. And I mostly poke my own fingers with the needle. But maybe if you work on the design and I do the stitching…” Lainey nodded in agreement.

  Beatrix looked at Brick. “I can make a gem that you could mount to the dagger. An emerald, do ya think?” The dwarf nodded his head.

  When nobody else spoke up, Sasha took over again. “Right. So, Alexander’s going to be gone all day and maybe tomorrow. So the rest of you, I need you to help us keep this place in order. Circulate around the keep. Talk to the citizens, see what you can help them with.” She looked around. “Grumpy, can you go to the mine and check on them? And the quarry?” When he nodded, she pointed at Warren. “Can you and Lyra go up top? Check on the towers? Bodine and Regina?” Warren and Lyra both agreed. They liked the beastmasters and their zoo.

  Turning to Pollock, she said, “I need someone to check in with the orcs at the northern village. If you’re willing, I can ask Braxis if he’ll fly you up there.” When he started to nod, she added, “But no starting any fights. You’re getting kinda famous for going berserk and launching yourself into suicidal charges. No beating on our new allies.” She winked at him to ease the sting a bit. He blushed and bowed his head.

  Lastly, she looked at Benny. “I’ll need you here with me. We’ve got some cleanup to do after the battle. And we should check on all those who were wounded, just to make sure everyone’s healed. Plus, Alexander wants to journey to meet the elves soon, so we should get started on those preparations. It’ll be an overland trip, as we don’t know if they have a portal or how to connect to it.” Benny didn’t argue.

  “Okay then, everyone’s got their assignments for the day. I appreciate you all being willing to help out. And hopefully, we’ll have both Alexander and Jules back here with us soon.” With that, everyone began to disperse to go about their days.

  *****

  Fitz and Sophie walked through a tunnel beneath the city of Demarion. Fitz had already killed several drow moving about down there and captured two that he had ques
tioned. One had been turned over to King Arand’s men and was being questioned. Fitz sincerely hoped the king would come to his senses and realize the threat to his city. In the meantime, Fitz would do what he could.

  Rounding a corner, they faced a dead end in the tunnel. Sophie started to turn back but Fitz held out a hand. “There are secret ways in and out of this city that even the king or the thieves’ guild don’t know about. You must promise me you will never share what you see here.”

  Sophie grinned and made a ‘cross-my-heart’ motion with her hand. “I promise, old wizard. Secrets are one thing I’m very good at.”

  Fitz grunted and stepped toward the end wall. He spoke a few words and touched his staff to the wall. A moment later, an arched doorway appeared and the stone slid to one side. Fitz stepped through and motioned for Sophie to follow.

  Once she was through, he turned and faced the tunnel. “Ignus!” he shouted. A wave of fire blasted from his staff at about waist height and spread through the tunnel behind them. Two drow appeared, the flames catching their armor on fire. A bolt of lightning shot from Fitz’s staff and the two spies began to fry from the inside out. Blood ran from their eye sockets and one of them bit the tip of her tongue clean off as they convulsed from the channeled lightning.

  Sophie dashed out and slit each of their throats as Fitz cancelled the spell, just to make sure they were dead. She looted their bodies and returned to Fitz, handing him a folded parchment. He pocketed it without looking and ushered her back through the door. The stone slid closed behind him and Sophie could see no evidence of its existence.

  She was in a workshop of some kind. She only had a moment to take in the workbench covered in alchemical tools and the desk covered in papers and books before Fitz led her through a wooden door and into a tunnel. The floor of the tunnel sloped upward gradually. She noted several traps, which Fitz avoided seemingly without thinking. She followed him carefully so as not to set them off herself, grinning at the fact that he had not alerted her. She was flattered by his assumption that she’d be capable of seeing them. They were not beginner traps by any means.

  At the end of the tunnel was another dead end wall. This one had a lever on the side wall, which Fitz pulled downward. Again, the stone moved toward them a bit then slid to one side. The sun shone into the tunnel as Fitz stepped through the door. Sophie followed him out to stand on a ledge overlooking the sea.

  Damerion was a port city built on a cliff facing the sea. Down below her, the cliff wall curved around to a small, protected cove, where stone piers stretched out. Half a dozen ships were docked, with a few more at anchor waiting for space. From the docks, the city curled up the rise to the cliff top.

  There were three high stone walls protecting the lower part of the city. One just inside the docks stretched around to connect with the cliff on the other side. The second wall was a quarter mile inside the city. This one was shorter, and also extended from cliff to cliff. The third wall protected the palace keep itself. It was only about a quarter-mile long and stood fifty feet high. Damerion was one of the best-defended cities on Io, second only to the dwarven cities that used the mountains themselves as protective barriers.

  Fitz waved to the docks, which was the only part of the city Sophie could see from her current vantage. Most of the city was above her, atop the cliffs. “That is where the Dark One will attack if he cannot find his ‘back entrance.’ What he doesn’t know is that there isn’t one, other than this one. I helped build this city atop these cliffs a thousand years ago. Only you and I know this route.” He paused to impress that last statement upon her. “The docks are vulnerable to attack by ship. The walls are lowest there, and less heavily manned. I need you to convince the king to prepare to defend the docks. Now.”

  “I’ll do my best. What are you going to do?” she asked. She didn’t expect an answer from the wizard. He kept his business to himself.

  With a wave of his hand, he teleported her back to the palace courtyard. Then he began to climb down a steep, rocky path along the cliff face. Below him, on the north-facing cliff, was a cave. He knew of an old rockworm tunnel that led from that cave to his destination.

  The drow who had perished during questioning had refused to tell him where they’d taken the missing princes. But the second drow, seeing how the first had died, told all. Fitz was going to end the Dark One here and now if he could.

  A few more steps and he squeezed behind a rock shelf in front of him. The small opening led to a round tunnel that led steeply downward. The worm had been following a vein of some metal or other, and only stopped when it neared the surface and the sound of crashing waves. Fitz followed the tunnel for half a mile deep into the earth. It turned hard left, heading southward toward the forest that lay at the bottom of the sloped side of the mountain. There was an old ruin there that the people of Demarion avoided like the plague. It was infested with undead, a curse placed on the old city by the drow wizards after a battle eons ago.

  The tunnel that Fitz followed led him below the old ruins. When his earth sense told him he was in the correct spot, he cast a spell that revealed a door in the side of the tunnel. A door he had placed there himself.

  Opening the door, he advanced into a stone corridor carved by dwarves. This was the lowest level of a city even older than the one above occupied by the cursed human undead. Here, the halls were quiet. It had been a small city even in its prime. The dwarves had abandoned it as the humans spread across the land. But dwarves built to last, and other than a deep layer of dust, this city looked as if it could have been newly built.

  Fitz followed the main road to a temple off the market square. Within the temple was a tower that rose up to the cavern ceiling above. Unlike Damerion, the dwarves had left themselves several escape routes in the event their city was overrun. This tower was one.

  The stairway wound around and up past the top floor of the tower into the rock above. There it connected to another tunnel that rose into what was now the cursed city.

  This was where the Dark One hid. Fitz used his earth sense again to check above him before opening the hidden trap door. After climbing the ladder up into the hall, he closed the door behind him. No point in giving the drow a way out.

  The old dragon in wizard form closed his eyes and touched a ring on his right hand. A moment later, six more dragons in human form appeared next to him. A full wing of dragons who specialized in hunting drow wizards. And the drow who served them.

  Fitz spoke quietly. “The Dark One may be here. Leave him to me. But find the princes if you can. And kill every drow you find. Be careful. Their blades are coated with the dark poison. You all carry antidotes?” When all six nodded, he said, “Go, then. Teams of two. Be careful. Remember Daginalistros.”

  With fury in their eyes, the six dragons moved off, weapons in hand. They began casting spells that disabled the drow’s stealth ability. They spammed the powerful spell every few steps. It sent a bubble of magic forward to expose any hidden assassins. Unlike the other humanoid spell casters, these were creatures born of magic. Their mana was a part of them. And they were ancient creatures. They could cast this spell nonstop for weeks and not begin to drain their mana supply.

  Fitz closed his eyes and recalled the words of the drow prisoner. The Dark One had a throne room where he conducted business. It was near the center of the cursed city. Most of his drow servants were stationed near the entrances. Their job was to keep out the wandering dead.

  Fitz picked a direction and moved forward. He had no fear of drow assassins; his cousins would have cleared this tunnel already. As if in confirmation, he found a corpse stuffed into an alcove a moment later. Its face was missing, but the skin on its hands confirmed it was a drow. He continued on, turning this way and that until he approached the throne room. He found it seemingly empty. No Dark One sitting atop the dark stone throne, no servants evident.

  Knowing better than to just walk into the room, he cast a scrying spell. Several traps revealed themselves. None
that could kill him, though. There were poison traps and alarms, and one that released a flammable gas. He chuckled upon seeing that one. Dragons were immune to fire.

  Next, he cast the same spell his brethren were using. A bubble of magic spread across the room and exposed four drow guardians standing around the throne. Fitz cast his chain lightning spell. The smell of ozone permeated the air as electricity arced through the four. They clenched their weapons involuntarily as they spasmed. Fitz’s version of the spell was ten times more powerful than Alexander’s. The drows’ bodies were cooked inside their armor, but they didn’t make a sound. That is until Fitz released the spell and their corpses clattered to the floor.

  Three more drow charged through side doors with weapons drawn. Another, that had somehow approached Fitz from behind, stabbed at him with a poison dagger. The tip managed to penetrate his robe and scratch a narrow line into his skin. But that was enough to transfer the dragon-killing poison. Fitz roared, the mighty sound that came from his human body rattling the room. Answering roars echoed back to him from his cousins, who now had no more need to be quiet.

  Fitz spun and drove the butt of his staff through the chest of the drow behind him. His superhuman strength allowed him to then lift the dying dark elf into the air and hurl him into the others as they approached. He took a moment to pull a flask from his belt and drink a mouthful of the antidote before returning the flask to its slot. Then he pointed the business end of his staff at the three living drow.

  “Putredine!”

  The three warriors slowed, then came to a halt as their skin began to bubble. Their hair fell from their heads in clumps and they began to scream as chunks of their skin sloughed off and fell to the floor. Blood ran from them in a hundred places as they literally rotted away where they stood. In twenty seconds, they were piles of putrefied flesh and brittle bone.