Mazenta's Tale - Part 4

“Watch,” Jess said to the others and massaged the veiny bulges of the pod-door; it opened like a flower in bloom with a wet squelching sound. “Then I do this,” she rubbed the inside of the sphincter and it squeezed closed. She smiled as she demonstrated again, “Door opens, door closes.”

Squelch, squish.

“Gah!” Demona made a face and turned away, with her fingertips pressed to the base of her horns. “I can barely look at it without being constantly reminded of your mutual shame.”

“Indeed,” Imaris tried to look bored by it all. “You should see the carpet they use instead of stairs. We found the way down to the next level while we scouted ahead.”

The Lost Hope were crowded in the small portal room, the swirling blue haze still covered one wall, showing a misty picture of the courtyard platform and the stone dragon. As I stared longingly at my petrified brother I saw the shimmering form of a red-scaled dragonfolk climb the steps and rest on the haft of his pole arm, studying the portal from the far side. It was Brahma, devotee of the dragon-god, who had elected to stay behind when the Lost Hope abandoned their safe haven at the gatehouse and moved to the inner bailey. I tapped Icarus’ armored shoulder until he noticed the other dragonfolk.

"Your cake is now ready and wondering where you are," Icarus muttered cryptically as the dragon priest hesitated longer and longer on the other side of the portal.

Finally steeling himself, Brahma hunched his shoulders and stepped through the portal, appearing beside the others in the small room.

“Greetings, companions and the blessing of Bahamut upon you all.” Brahma was a huge, fine specimen of a red. Hulking even taller than Icarus, his scales a deep cherry-red like hot coals. The glaive he carried was a massive weapon, longer than he was tall, like a sword on the end of a pole. The leverage this allowed made terrible wounds. There was a gabble of surprised talk.

“What the?”

“Nice perimeter control guys-“

“Holy dammit Christmas!”

Brahma raised one hand in a placating gesture. “I’m sure you have many questions and I will do my best to answer them all.”

Silence lengthened as the Lost Hope exchanged looks.

“Uh, what took you so long?” Xandra asked finally.

“I fasted, many hours, and pondered long and hard over the nature of good and evil-“

“Shocker,” Demona said to Jess in a stage whisper. The little elf turned a confused look at the Tiefling and raised a hand with only a pinky finger extended. “Never mind,” Demona said.

Brahma continued: “I called upon the dragon god for guidance hoping, in his infinite wisdom and goodness, Bahamut would tell me what needed to be done. First, I considered returning to Nevermore with news of our success. Then, I considered how the kobolds we had just slain were aspects of the divine dragon nature-“

“Brahma,” Imaris said.

"How could I rectify this seeming dichotomy? If Bahamut the all-powerful allowed such wayward essence of dragonosity to flourish, did that mean the people of Nevermore were meant to suffer, to learn the nature of punishment so that they might go enlightened to the afterlife?”

“Priest,” Demona smouldered.

“But, there I sat, among the remains of so many kobolds, victorious, and I pondered if the dragon-god had simply been directing events to that one moment, where I would be the instrument of his hand. Of course, this led me to the logical discourse on predeterminism-“

“So you meditated long. And then you followed us?” Xandra jumped in.

“No,” the red dragon paused. “More kobolds crept upon me while I meditated. I woke bound and prisoner.”

“What?”

“Oh yes, it’s very true. At first their wyrmpriest thought to make a sacrifice of me, at the next sunset. This of course left me many hours to recite Bahamut’s Edda Before Dying. Death usually comes swiftly and I considered myself lucky to have the time to recite all five hundred stanzas. The stanzas about the welcoming golden hauls have always held particular meaning to me. As a spawn my mother’s brother told me of an adventure he had once-“

“Underverse, give me strength,” Demona massaged her horns.

“And yet you live!” Imaris cried. “No doubt a wonderful tale of redemption and battle. Well suited to a long winter’s day beside a roaring fire with cups of hot rum. Many cups. Certainly you then followed the bodies we left behind and found us here. Your bravery is unsurpassed, Brahma. Now join us as we delve further down into this mysterious den of foul goblins. You may have the honour of going first!”

“Uh,” the priest’s mouth hung open in mid-sentence. “Yes, of course. On my honour.”

The Lost Hope moved through the glowing crystal hallways until they came to a wide opening and a tunnel slanted down. The ramp itself was carpeted in some slowing undulating blue moss. Brahma visibly recoiled at the sight of it.

“Look, it moves for you,” Jess stepped onto the ramp with delight. The moss gently moved her to the bottom while she stood still.

Brahma grunted, a puff of smoke jetting from his nostrils and followed her onto the ramp with the others behind him.

I refused to touch the strange moss and simply opened my wings to glide down the ramp, deking aside from Jess who momentarily swatted at the air, sensing something flying past her, and landed in another glowing corridor. This one was much wider and the ramp exited at a bend. To the right the hallway immediately ended at a wide, square arch into a much larger chamber. Jess immediately skulked to peer into the room and as Brahma and Icarus’ heavy, taloned feet clicked across the crystal floor she winced and glanced sharply behind her. The rest of the Lost Hope exited the ramp, milling in the hall uncertainly when an eerie music began.

I clambered up Icarus’ shoulder as the Lost Hope followed the music, slowly advancing into the large chamber. It was vaulted, with towering triangular arches easily long and wide enough to lair a full-grown dragon and her hoard inside. Lined against either wall were strange instruments, almost like living organisms grown from coral, with clustered tubes, webs of strings, drums stretched with living skins. More disturbing were the rotting corpses of goblins lurching through the chords of the disturbing music. One stared slack-jawed in the air as its bony hand thrummed strings like the bass twanging of a crossbow, another pumped bellows that sent blood curdling howls out of the mouths of horns. The Mournful sounds seemed focused by the curious crystal architecture of the hall until my back teeth began to hum uncomfortably.

The face of the Eladrin wizard was appalled as the music continued. Imaris gripped his staff with white fingers until he could contain it no longer and with a gesture and arcane shout he blasted the nearest goblin zombie with fire, sending its shattered corpse to smash against the wall and drop to the floor, burning with a foul stench of charred meat and bone. If anything the music was worse. Robbed of one band member the sound grew more discordant. Demona clapped her hands to her ears.

But Jess and Xandra were spinning around, weapons raised, and so was I. Under the cover of the noise a single figure had crept up behind us. It was swathed head to toe in fiery robes. Rusted orange, burnt red, corroded black. Not an inch of flesh was exposed; the arms were crossed, with hands inside voluminous sleeves. But nothing disguised the eyes that shone behind the veil, glowing yellow. Both Jess and Xandra were prepared to attack but the intruder made no aggressive move.

One by one the rest of the Lost Hope turned to face the newcomer, but Imaris turned back to the room, face set as he began to systematically blast the remaining zombie orchestra.

“S’one of your kind,” Jess said to Demona, making two fingers into horns on her forehead.

The Tiefling warlock stared at the robed figure a moment before her face seemed to relax. Demona never spoke of her own kind, the cursed offspring of devil-ridden rulers from a long-dead empire. Certainly she was the only one of her kind seen in Nevermore for some time.

“Can I kill it?” Jess asked in a tone she would use to comment on the weather.

“Baxt hai sastimos tiri patragi,” Demona bowed her head and said some greeting in the infernal tongue of the underverse. “How do you come to be here?”

The robed figure barked a laugh, harsh, and pulled down her veil. Her mouth was elongated, like an animal, with long canine teeth, and a pair of sharp, curved horns, barely the size of a small finger, sprouted from her forehead. She had a strange and unsettling beauty.

“What are you doing here, sister?” she replied in a tone that clearly meant she was the one who should be asking questions.

“Kill?” Jess whispered.

Demona made a shushing sound and spoke to the other Tiefling again. “We come to rid the area of goblins and serve their blood to the gods.”

“You and your- friends,” the robed figure sneered.

With a final blast the orchestra of evil went silent.

Brahma stepped forward, “We mean to investigate this strange crystal tower. If you would aid us, we look to bring goodwill to those who join us.”

“You think this pitful band will last much longer? Back home you’d be across an altar before sunset.”

“That’s it,” Demona raised her rod, energy crackling along the iron.

“Kill!” Jess nodded gleefully.

“No, wait,” Brahma held her back with one arm. “We mean no disrespect, what can you tell us of these halls?”

The robed figure snarled “Te malavel les i menkiva,” 1

Demona’s face darkened, “You’re so dead! Yekka muri buliasa nashti beshes pe done grastende.”2

Before she could make a move the stranger made a single hand gesture “Ka xlia ma pe tute,”3

Demona cried out, hand to her face, as blood began to leak from her eyes and ears. Jess ducked past Brahma and moved forward, one arm cocked back with her punch-dagger, but as she came closer she too screamed, and blood streamed from every orifice in her head. Blinking past the pain she landed a blow on the robed figure. Not a moment later her prey disappeared, leaving Jess alone with her bloody dagger. She quickly turned down the corridor.

“She’s a magic jumper, an there’s two of her,” Jess pointed where the others couldn’t see.

Icarus didn’t hesitate and passed the little cutter, axe raised; as we moved around the turn in the hallway I saw another of the iris-doors nearby and two robed Tieflings: the first one and another, still veiled with midnight blue robes. The second had obviously lain in wait around the corner and attacked Jess unawares as she rushed the first. I sprang from Icarus’ shoulder and clung to one of the irregular surfaces of the crystal wall. A moment later he brought his axe in an uppercut that struck the blue Tiefling. There was a swirl like the blue robes were caught in a whirlwind and the tiefling was suddenly gone, standing much farther down the hallway.

“Oh. They teleport,” Icarus grunted.

Demona staggered forward, blood now running freely from nose and mouth, and she made arcane gestures, ending with a single finger extended from her fist: “Kon del tut o nai shai dela tut wi o vast.”4 A smoking, clawed hand, like the disembodied fist of an abyssal giant with claws of black flame materialized around the first teifling and closed around her like a fist, dragging her kicking and screaming back to the Lost Hope. But even as she did the bound tiefling was canting in the abyssal tongue.

“Isi ili daba,”5 and Demona staggered as if struck, full trickles of blood running from every orifice. The midnight Tiefling closely followed suit by targeting my Icarus. He took the blow to his mind stoically, blinking blood away from weeping eyes and growling.

Jess and Xandra darted down the corridor towards the midnight Tiefling. Again, after Jess struck her the creature swirled away, further down the corridor towards a group of doors and when Xandra leapfrogged Jess to slice with both blades the creature vanished to reappear at the far end. But something was different this time and even as the swirling cloak revealed the Tiefling it collapsed to the ground.

The air resounded with a magical blast. Demona and the first Tiefling were trading arcane fire with insults.

“Shuk tski khalpe la gunoy merel dei.”6

Icarus strode forward raised his axe and struck the Tiefling once again; once again in a swirl of robes she was out of his reach.

“Prohasar man opre pirende - sa muro djiben semas opre chengende,”7 the unveiled Tiefling snarled but moments later Demona crowed as a final eldritch blast sent her opponent to the ground.

One of the far doors squished open and two hobgoblins loped out behind the fallen Tiefling corpse, now making a red puddle at their feet. Both had strung longbows and in the narrow confines of the corridor they made an easy target of Jess, and the little elf staggered back, looking down in surprise at the two arrows sticking out of her side. Tugging both free she charged the two archers.

“Jess, wait,” Xandra called, but too late.

An iris door between Jess and the rest of the Lost Hope opened and two metal figures clanked into the hallway. They were constructs, animated by magic, shaped like some sort of man-ape gone wrong. The bulk of their bodies mercifully hid the savage tearing they did to Jess as serrated metal jaws opened and clamped on the tiny elfling. Xandra was on them then, both scimitars weaving, striking at one and then the other.

The fight in the narrow confines of the corridor was vicious and bloody. Jess, caught between hobgoblins and metal men could barely defend herself. Xandra barely succeeded in distracting one of the constructs at the cost of a mechanical bite while Demona advanced, sending bolts of black energy at their enemies.

“They’re getting cut to pieces,” Icarus shouted to Brahma and Imaris, still hanging back.

“They’re too close!” Imaris snarled back in frustration, “Any magic I use will hit our allies.” He sent a single dart of magic force at the constructs, but in the chaos it went wide and struck crystal chips from the wall.

“Do something,” Icarus grabbed the armoured collar of the dragon priest and pulled him close to snarl in his face.

Brahma shrugged free and with closed eyes began muttering prayers. “Divine bahamut, hear me now. Send your healing grace to my needy allies!”

A white glow began to coalesce around Jess and Xandra. When it lifted both were fighting easier, the bloody wounds staunched. But the archers, backed against the far wall of the hallway, drew back their bows until the wood creaked and immediately sent two more barbed points into the little elf. While she was still recovering the metal apethings bore her to the wall. Metal jaws rang like shears and they left her unconscious, bleeding out across the white crystal.

“Useless,” Icarus muttered, raising his axe he charged forward towards the metal apes.

Only I saw the two newcomers. Almost next to me they came out of the open iris-door and slunk forward on bare feet. They were Eladrin, but thin and wasted, their faces sunken and eyes haunted. Naked, but for a bloodstained leather apron and each carried a serrated knife as long as their forearm. Had I cried out they would certainly have noticed me; I could only watch and hope either Brahma or Imaris heard them as they snuck up behind the rear rank of the Lost Hope.

But with a vicious flourish both of the wasted Eladrin drove their weapons into Imaris’ unprotected back. The wizard cried out, stumbling and twisting. His hand came away bloody from the unseen wounds. Brahma roared in anger and also turned to face them.

There was a massive clash, like a wagon of scrap metal falling, and I saw Icarus raise his head to roar in triumph as one of the metal apes shattered under his axe. But the remaining construct attacked the weakened Xandra, and in a moment she went down under its savage bite, bleeding at the dragonborn’s feet.

Brahma took a moment to draw in breath and I quickly sprang from the wall, flapping past him to land in the middle of the contested corridor. Sure enough as Brahma exhaled a storm of flames washed over the Eladrin attackers. A moment later he mumbled prayer and made a sweeping gesture with one hand: a pearly wave of light struck them with radiant power. As the gaunt backstabbers writhed under the onslaught Brahma brought his great glaive about, landing a blow that staggered one of the Eladrin.

“Witch,” Icarus called over his shoulder to Demona. “Tend to the wounded, these are mine.”

I could barely contain myself as the battle raged on. My head snapped back and forth, watching the fights at either end of the corridor. Icarus was marvelous. He quickly dispatched the other construct then closed with the archers; the hobgoblins were handicapped at close quarters and one drew its sword while the other backed against the wall as far from Icarus as possible and sent a number of arrows into his hide. Demona went to the boneless lump of the elfling and knelt. Raising Jess to her lap she carefully uncorked a tiny vial and poured the healing drought into her open mouth.

Imaris and Brahma were at blades with the wasted Eladrin. Unable to use his magic at close quarters the wizard had his sword out but his blows were weak and ineffective. The half-naked opponents were cunning and vicious; each would duck and weave this way and that, making feints that drew out their opponents and let them land punishing stabs in their exposed vitals. Both Brahma and Imaris were bleeding from several wounds before the first went down.

There was a horrific scream suddenly chopped off and the butcher-block thunk of an axe hitting bone. Icarus was trying to free his axe after driving it down through collarbone and ribs before resting it in the pelvis of one goblin archer. Moments later he finished the other.

Now alone, the last Eladrin began to edge towards escape and breaking past Brahma it plunged into a nearby alcove, the entrance of one of the moving down ramps, and laughed as it was carried to safety. Imaris, his cool exterior for once replaced with rage, staggered to the alcove and, raising his staff, he called upon magic forces. For a moment the magic backwash shone on his face, then came a distant thump as the backstabber was hit, and fell.

“Let that be the end of them,” Imaris sagged to the wall. “Surely madness and captivity drove them to this.”

“Imaris,” Brahma called softly, one clawed toe nudging the corpse of the fallen backstabber in the corridor. “This is no Eladrin.”

Imaris and I both moved closer and indeed, it was some foul creature that lay where the Eladrin sneak had fallen. No elf. A pale, flat face, bulbous head and joints on a skinny body with slug-grey flesh.

“A shape-shifter,” Imaris sighed. One might have sensed relief.

“Why choose that form?” Brahma asked and his tone lent an air of philosophy to the question.

“Perhaps to confuse us. Perhaps they thought to dispatch me and take my place.”

The others from the Lost Hope were drawing closer. Jess was obviously hurt and furious, but standing. Her clothes were wet with blood but she bore no wounds. Demona held up a bloody nub of flesh.

“You sure you don’t need this bit?”

“Don’t feel anything missing,” Jess replied.

Xandra’s child-like form was cradled in the crook of one of Icarus’ massive arms, slightly dazed and with a number of bandages around her, but in no danger of dying. For a moment they all just stood and glanced up and down the ruin left in the corridor. Silence lengthened as they counted the bodies and wiped blood from their faces.

“Uh, loot the bodies?” Icarus shrugged.

“’Kay,” Demona quickly replied.


Translated Footnotes:
1. Te malavel les i menkiva – I hope you get the crotch pox and die
2. Yekka muri buliasa nashti beshes pe done grastende – your mama’s butt so fat she rides on two horses
3. Ka xlia ma pe tute – I’m going to rip off your head and crap down your neck
4. Kon del tut o nai shai dela tut wi o vast - He who willingly gives your mother one finger will also give you the whole hand
5. Isi ili daba – get ready for the smackdown
6. Shuk tski khalpe la gunoy merel dei – eat crap with a spoon and die
7. Prohasar man opre pirende - sa muro djiben semas opre chengende – you spent your life on your knees and I’ll send you to the afterlife without a head; surely the devils will still have a use for you