Chapter 34: Backs Against the Wall

  The familiar visage of the Silver Vault’s seventh floor became focused in Blychert’s field of view, as the flash of gold, reddening energy which had carried him to this point finally subsided.

  His companions, as well as the inscrutable, dwarven artificer himself, spread out somewhat into the proceeding chamber thereafter, no doubt with as much sleepiness in their eyes and fatigue in their bones as Bly.

  “What—happened back there?” he felt impelled to ask, only slightly out of breath from the sudden flight of feet.

  It wasn’t like this was the first time the dungeon had “acted out” in a way that spelled almost certain disaster for everyone in its path, nor was it the first time Blychert had been made to bear witness such an event. In any case, this one felt different. Even in his half-asleep state of mind, there was no mistaking the fact that something had changed down here.

  Was this the critically low level that Cynric had spoken of earlier? And if so, what did that mean for the inhabitants of Frostwall living above it? And another thing that was troubling him even more than before: everyone seemed to focus on the apparent “forming rift” as if it were somehow coupled to the anomalies occurring in the dungeons. But that wasn’t right at all.

  Ley lines were at the core of every major issue involved, true enough, but the actual events themselves should have been exclusive to one another, given the parameters necessary to create such an environment. Raid sequences were dungeon-exclusive events, whereas rifts only formed on the outside world. What was happening in the Silver Vault seemed to Bly more like a consequence of whatever it was Winter was doing in the region.

  As for the Church? The Guild? Clearly, they had the resources to operate on multiple fronts. Cynric was one contingency, Nárthimr appeared to be another. If it stood to reason that someone like Administrator Caelus understood the nature of ley lines exceedingly well, and that it was true that his intentions in Calveriga were purely concerned with bringing a rift to bear, then it also had to be true that he would undertake any viable option that managed to disrupt the ley lines in a meaningful way.

  In other words, Cynric was even more important than Blychert initially surmised. Whatever it was this Nárthimr individual was doing, no doubt in collaboration with the Administrator, Cynric had evidently been working to counteract it. In a way, he was their best bet at preventing even further disaster to Frostwall’s dungeon.

  Or… perhaps it was already too late for countermoves.

  “No time for that—” Reingard said, taking charge of the situation posthaste, “Bjadir, on the front. Give us ten yards. You two are split between the dwarf., I’ll be close on the rear. We’re close enough to spot we fell from initially, so we can sweep through and make sure none of ours… well, we can take a look, anyway.” Reingard looked away momentarily, a look of somber anxiousness creased his expression, before he sobered enough to say, “Our priority is the wayshrine and getting him to the hall. Is that clear to everyone?”

  Blychert nodded in response.

  Reingard was right, they’d dwelt down here long enough.

  It didn’t take long for the party to reach the chamber. They were met by little resistance on the path forward too, and only a handful of moderately-leveled spawns hindered their progress for a few minutes here and there. The dungeon’s volatility rating was pushing forty percent now, but Blychert got the impression with such diminished energy reserves, and if Cynric was to be believed, generating new spawns to keep up with the internal pressure seemed almost impossible.

  The dungeon’s integrity was being burned at both ends.

  It was only somewhat surprising to discover nothing and no one inside the massive, cavernous chamber, as the party spread out slightly to begin its search. Much of the floor was cracked and missing, and it was clear that a fight had taken place here recently. But by the light of Blychert’s light spell overhead, there was no sign to indicate that anyone else had suffered the same fate as they did. There were a few dark spots on the stone that could have easily been dried blood, or something else, but there were no bodies, and more importantly, there was no silver dragon lurking about either.

  “They must have gotten out…” Reingard sighed, no doubt one of pure relief, “I guess we’ll find out, one way or another—”

  A tingling sensation on the back of Bly’s neck whipped him into action. Stepping past the others, he thrust his hands forward, with barely enough time to process what he was doing or the flash of light crackling towards them. Muttering the words beneath his breath, a bloom of yellow, magical energy rapidly solidified into a defensive barrier.

  Which was well enough, because a split second later, a bolt of intense lightning magic struck the shield head-on and shattered the entire thing upon impact.

  “Ifthar garheim, gol farok tah’hai. Kag…” said a deep, dominating voice from the darkness on the other side of the chamber. Blychert was too slow or too stunned to activate his ring of comprehension, as the massive silhouette of a familiar figure just began to edge the perimeter of his light spell’s maximum distance.

  “Gurogan…” Bly mumbled through gritted teeth.

  He wasn’t alone either. Flanked on either side and behind, two equally massive giants entered the chamber with him, and someone else lurked in the back too. Blychert stomached a guess that it was the spellcaster responsible for the lightning.

  “I was disappointed to find that your trail ended here, in this place.” Gurogan continued in his broken common accent “But you are predictable, Reingard. As for your companions…”

  Gurogan seemed to turn his attention on Skaldan.

  “You are not as clever as you think you are, boy. Nor as quiet.”

  “The hell do you know!” Skaldan replied immediately, and Bly could sense that the young prince was on the verge of activating his martial abilities.

  “So many questions, so much… running around.” Gurogan stepped forward a few feet, “Someone is bound to take notice. Someone, like me.”

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  “Step aside.” Reingard said sternly, hobbling to the front to impose himself between Skaldan and the giants, “I’m not dealing with your bullshit today, Gurogan. You get out of our way, and maybe I’ll consider not fucking you up. Or do you want the entire hall at your neck? You’ll be run out of this city, if you so much as touch a hair on any of them.”

  “Bold words, for a want-to-be hero.” Gurogan snidely remarked. The giant brandished his battleaxe, itself easily taller than Bly, “Tell me, hero, who will speak of my treachery if all of you are dead?”

  “Daghar, Gurogan.” Bjadir stepped forward this time, and Bly had just enough time to activate his ring to hear the rest, “You shame your clan. You shame yourself even further.”

  Gurogan seemed to enjoy the remark, chuckling, “And tell me, son of Burazim, whose shame do you wear? I bring honor to my clan, and to myself. That dwarf’s life will ensure it.”

  “You can’t have him.” Bly entered the conversation, “You won’t have him.”

  “That is not for you to decide.” Gurogan replied, “But you have my thanks, nonetheless. You and the princeling both. You see, that night at the Guild outpost, I pondered what it was that could bring the two of you together…”

  Bly’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

  Gurogan knew about that?

  How?

  Did that mean—could that mean the Administrator knew too?

  “It would seem your scheming suits you well, in this city of filth.” Gurogan laughed. However, his expression went cold, as he lifted his battleaxe in the party’s direction, “You’ve brought me my dwarf. For that reason, I shall kill you quickly.”

  The half-giant’s maul interlocked with the double-bladed battleaxe of his kin with a thunderous shockwave. Bly squinted through the gush, barely registering Gurogan’s speed at that moment, and he would surely have been cleaved in two had it not been for Bjadir’s decisive counter.

  Reingard’s blade flashed past Blychert suddenly in a blaze of orange-red light, and the fighter carried himself into the forefront of the action without delay, easily maneuvering past a single, lumbering attack from one of Gurogan’s lackies, before delivering a glancing blow to the very same opponent.

  Stepping back a few paces, Bly readied a teamwide buff in the form of a ‘hasten’ spell, targeting all three of his companions, though electing to not include himself.

  Skaldan had already activated his bloodborne abilities, furiously throwing himself at Gurogan. Blood-red claws hacked and slashed at their opponent, though the larger man seemed unbothered, quickly breaking the deadlock between him and Bjadir to deflect and defend Skaldan’s more reckless approach at attacking.

  Gurogan was fast for a man of his size—too fast, in some respects. In a matter of seconds, he’d already blocked several attacks from not just two, but three attackers simultaneously, whenever Reingard could spot a moment to get in his own licks. Bly had no doubt that if he cast an aura detection spell, Gurogan’s battle aura would have lit up like the night sky.

  Really, he didn’t seem to be breaking much of a sweat either.

  The two other giants currently occupied with Bly’s party leader didn’t seem like they were fully equipped to handle such a crafty fighting style, and yet none of it seemed to matter with Gurogan on the battlefield.

  There was no denying who had the upper hand.

  In any case, Bly’s attention quickly turned towards the spellcaster on the giants’ backlines, the moment he finished casting his handful of buffs and rebuffing defensive spells. He wanted to do more to support them, but his companions would have to do well without him for the time being.

  “Stay behind me—!” Bly shouted back at Cynric.

  Using the width of the chamber floor to his advantage, Blychert easily kicked off and maneuvered himself around the center of the action, before firing off several icicle spells in quick succession at the spellcaster.

  Reeling back from the latest of a deluge of lightning-based spells, the giantish woman clad in dark robes twisted her body around, and a moment later Bly’s icicles shattered against a well-timed defensive spell.

  Bly paused, taking in the foul, haggish appearance of his opponent’s face, before settling himself into a balanced casting stance. He needed to keep his wits sharp, despite his fatigue, knowing full well that he had no idea what this spellcaster was capable of yet. Elemental spells, yes, but he somehow doubted Gurogan employed a spellcaster without something tricky up their sleeve.

  The woman cackled like an old crone, her voice shrill and grating on the ears. Bly used the small opportunity to apply an ‘armor of frost’ spell to himself. He didn’t want to risk a defensive spell being his only outlet for protection.

  Ice and lightning shot across the chamber, the sounds of which punctured the dungeon’s chilling air, coalescing with the crossing of blades and the groaning of opponents’ intent to destroy one another.

  Bly easily dodged several spells aimed at him, countering with his own volley of spells in the process. He tried at casting a ‘freezing chain’, but under such a spellfire, he couldn’t find a suitable moment to get his spell off without risking a compromised defense, especially given how quickly his opponent was casting her own spells directed at him. As a result, he was stuck to mostly basic spellcasting.

  Blychert yelped, unable to counteract or dodge the third in a series of lightning spells before it struck Cynric, forced to step in and take the damage straight to his upper thigh.

  He collapsed to the floor slightly, but the dwarf helped him up to his feet just as quickly. The armoring spell had absorbed most of the impact damage, thankfully, but it still hurt.

  Sweat beaded on Bly’s brow, a sense of anxious fear creeping into the back of his mind. This wasn’t the sort of fighting he was accustomed to, and his overall spellcasting ability wasn’t nearly developed enough to be able to cast his higher-level spells at a reduced spellcasting time. If things kept up this way, he wouldn’t necessarily be in the red, but the longer it continued, the more likely it was he wouldn’t have the desired effect on this battle that he hoped to.

  That was unless he pulled out all the stops.

  A sudden wailing sent a chill down Blychert’s spine, and his gaze snapped to the left—to where his companions fought. He saw Skaldan, or rather, he saw Gurogan hovering over the young prince’s fallen body, collapsed to the ground by means unknown to Bly.

  “No—!” Reingard shouted, his voice filled with certain rage, certain fear, but Gurogan easily deflected the blade, and the fighter went spiraling back in Bly’s direction. In the same motion, Gurogan spun, leg lifted, and drilled his foot into Bjadir’s chest, sending the half-giant reeling back as well.

  Bly’s eyes widened.

  Fear gripped him so tightly now—so much more than it had in any other battle he’d faced before now. He could barely find the will to rush forward and make sure his companions—his friends were okay. Thankfully, Reingard and Bjadir had recovered; slow to their feet, but up. Though Skaldan wasn’t so lucky and lying limp across the floor.

  The spellcasting giant cackled in the lull, her voice filling the chamber, as Gurogan and his to other warriors closed the distance.

  “We need—a different strategy—” Reingard grunted, having barely caught his own breath, “The prince… he…”

  A thousand thoughts sped through Bly’s mind, but the blood rush of battle was overhwleming. He didn’t know what to do. He was going to have to dig deep, no doubt, and dip into his classless nature. What he really needed was to be spending his resources on supporting his party members.

  He needed more time.

  If he could just deal with that spellcaster…

  “We need to take her out.” Bly mumbled wearily, “I can’t help you, otherwise. And if I don’t keep her occupied with me, she’ll just make things worse for you.”

  “Big guy?” Reingard responded, “Think you can deal with those two goons?”

  Bjadir nodded, and it was only then that Bly realized the half-giant had a huge gash down the side of his face, blood streaming down through his shirt collar.

  “Alright then…” Reingard gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, “For Skaldan.”

  “Cynric—” Bly said, a sudden thought coming to mind. He accessed his inventory quickly and produced one of his only remaining healing potions. He looked the artificer hard in the eyes, and said sternly, “Get this to him. Please. If you can.”

  “Count on me, young man.” Cynric accepted the item with a nod of his own.

  “System command…” Blychert muttered quietly, “Activate ability, x-p transmogrifier. Execute mana replenishment.”

  Backs against the wall, or rather the edge of the abyss, it was now do or die.