The Storm King
1230 - Jors-kil
“You all right?” Alix asked, her voice smashing against his migraine like a sledgehammer against theater glass.
A long, pained groan rumbled from Daryun’s throat and pushed past his lips. Despite that, he still croaked, “Never better.”
A lie, to be sure, but with the creature dead, the vise grip it had upon his mind had vanished, and his recovery had already started. As pained as he was, he was in less pain than he was just a few seconds ago.
“Hey,” Alix continued as she crouched down by him. “Thanks. You pulled my sweet ass out the fire. Didn’t have to.”
Daryun snorted. He could tell Alix was being genuine through her tone even though he couldn’t see her face past her helmet, but… “The idea that I wouldn’t save a comrade insults my honor,” he growled as he started to project his magic to get himself moving again, his throbbing head now sufficiently calm to try. He almost flinched when Alix extended a hand to help him right himself in the gravity-less fortress, but after a moment’s pause, he took it gratefully.
“Apologies for questioning you, then. Always takes some time to adjust to a new guy joining up. Hasn’t happened in a while.”
Daryun blinked in surprise, wondering why that was for a moment until Leon’s most terrifying and aloof wife drifted past them, her body returned to normal.
[We’re done?] she asked, Daryun unable to fight the urge to flinch this time when her voice rang out into his mind despite his mental defenses.
Alix glanced at her people. Those who were injured were already healing their wounds with spells and potions. “We’re good,” she replied. “We’ll be ready to move in less than ten minutes.”
The drifting oceanic nightmare merely nodded imperiously before drifting back out into the hall and leaving them behind.
“She… what’s her deal?” Daryun asked as diplomatically as he could.
“What do you mean?” Alix responded.
“… I hardly ever see her, she never participates in public ceremonies… I’d have thought that one of our Queens would be more socially engaged…”
“Naiad’s different. She’s not human and cares little for human ceremony. Don’t worry too much about it, she’s on our side completely. She’s just aloof.”
Daryun frowned but spoke no more on the matter. It seemed Alix was largely done speaking, too, as she moved to help her retainers recover. In the lull, Daryun examined what remained of the room’s machinery. Much had been crushed, melted, or cut to pieces by all the magic thrown around. That debris now clouded the room, bouncing around almost ceaselessly. The few pipes and gears left were the largest and the most complicated as far as he could tell, all covered in hundreds or thousands of dull, almost completely lifeless runes. Even now, their function was unknown, especially without magic attempting to flow through their enchantments.
“Hey!” Alix called out after some minutes. “We’re good to go!”
Daryun nodded silently and joined the rest of the team at the door. Naiad had long moved on, and if any threat remained in this area she had probably destroyed it, but the team remained on guard as they moved back out into the fortress’ halls and continued exploring and securing the labyrinthine fortress.
---
It took nearly a day, but they had largely secured the fortress. No further excitement had befallen any other teams, leaving Daryun and Alix’s team the only ones who’d gotten into any trouble during the exploration. Throughout the entire fortress, they found signs of human life, but no bodies, no blood, no survivors… It was as if the vast crew that such an enormous fortress required had simply vanished.
Given the nature of the monster they’d dealt with, though, Daryun wondered if the corpses had been eaten or otherwise disposed of magically. There hadn’t been any note or record of any kind firmly establishing what had happened, but the violence of the fortress’ fall was undeniable. What happened afterward was what drew so much curiosity.
For his part, Daryun was perfectly fine that there were no more attacks in the fortress. That one had been enough, and his team had been lucky to escape without serious casualties. Had Naiad not shown up, however, they might have suffered a different outcome. As it was, the rest of the fortress’ exploration went by so quietly that Alix passed much of the time by chatting—she liked to talk, as Daryun was coming to realize, especially about her kids. Daryun had met Anora, Alix’s daughter, on Kesk—on Demetrion—and once Alix found that out, she spent more than three hours talking his ear off about her. Daryun did his best to both listen and see to his duties, but her exuberance was infectious, and he found himself almost disappointed when the all-clear signal was given.
With the fortress as secure as they could make it, the teams converged in a large hall close to the heart of the fortress. Like the rest of the fortress, it was largely bereft of physical décor, but there were at least some carpets on the floor and flowing, wave-like designs on the few columns in the hall. However, more interesting than that was the enormous set of double doors at the opposite end of the hall from the entrance. Tall enough that the giants that had come aboard the fortress could’ve easily walked through without trouble, and so hardened that they had yet to be opened.
Notably, these enormous doors—made of brass by Leon’s estimation—were the only part of the fortress that still had power, with significant currents of magic flowing through them. When Daryun and Alix arrived, they found Leon and several of his stronger advisors examining the door so closely that they were practically pressing their noses against it.
Notably, the Despot Archelaus was standing off to the side, frowning lightly. He turned toward them as they entered and waved them over. After a brief exchanged look, Alix and Daryun acquiesced.
“You ran into a creature during your mission, as I understand it,” Archelaus stated without preamble.
“We did,” Alix responded, a touch of hesitancy in her demeanor. However, with both Naiad and Cassandra within easy earshot and not seeming to care that they were speaking with the Despot, she visibly loosened up.
“Describe it for me,” Archelaus requested. “I want to know if it was part of the fortress’ defenses or something left behind by those who assaulted this place…”
Daryun and Alix took turns describing the creature and its capabilities, but that seemed almost superfluous after only the second line as Archelaus’ eyes narrowed in recognition despite not asking them to stop.
When they did finally stop, he wore a long frown and made a long, hacking sound that came off a bit like a foreign language, though Daryun wondered how any human throat could stand to make so alien a noise as frequently as speech demanded. After a moment, Archelaus clarified, “‘Giver of Indigo Nightmares’ in Nexus Common. Nasty beasts. Not part of the station’s defenses.”
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“Then something the attackers left behind?” Daryun asked.
“None can say for sure save for them,” Archelaus admitted. His demeanor shifted to something sinister and brutal for a moment as he added, “If I ever find out who did this, I will find out
.” After a moment, he returned to his usual slower cadence and relaxed air. “But its presence here might explain the lack of bodies. They like to eat humans—living or dead, it doesn’t matter.”
“Is this personal?” Alix directly asked, prompting Daryun to mentally cringe at the lack of tact.
“It is very personal,” Archelaus answered easily. “This fortress was commanded by Lord Jors-kil, a close friend of mine. He didn’t often spend time here, but if he was here when the fortress was attacked…” The Despot cast a worried look at the enchanted doors. “I only wish I could help them open that thing. I am no enchanter, to my regret.”
“Can’t just break through?” Alix wondered aloud.
“Heh. No. Those doors have enough magic running through them that breaking through would likely destroy whatever’s on the other side. Any survivors or evidence hidden away would be unlikely to be intact should we try. Lord Leon, I’m given to understand, is quite a skillful enchanter, so I don’t mind waiting for him.”
Alix nodded. “Leon will get us through. Just a matter of time.”
Daryun admired her confidence, but after the past few months, he supposed he could understand it. Leon had proven himself skilled enough in these matters for Daryun to not doubt his abilities.
As if on cue, a flash of light by the doors caught their attention and halted their chat—Leon had retrieved several spells from his soul realm and activated one of them. Daryun didn’t recognize it, but it was far more curving and natural-looking than the straight, efficient lines of modern runes.
“Gather up!” one of the post-Apotheosis mages shouted—a tall, broad man with golden skin and many dark spots covering his bare face. Daryun had met him in his capacity as a Paladin, knowing him only as ‘the Jaguar’. A curious name given there was a ‘Jaguar Tribe’, but Daryun was still learning the dynamics of Leon’s Kingdom, so he withheld judgment. “The doors were sealed from the outside, so prepare for anything that might be hiding within!”
The other post-Apotheosis mages, including Archelaus, formed up beside Leon, who had closed his eyes to focus completely on the spell. Daryun, Alix, and the other Paladins formed up right behind them, with their retainers behind them in turn, and then followed up by the giants and the rest of the teams that had converged here.
The hall fell silent as Leon worked, magic from the spell peeling away the magic sealing the enormous brass doors. Daryun’s heart thundered in his ears as time went on, the tension rising as the doors creaked and magic flashed. Beside him, Alix stood as steady as a rock, showing her long experience and professionalism. Zhang, too, on Daryun’s other side, was as solid as a mountain, and Daryun couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward shifting slightly beside them, his hands shaking slightly as he remembered the pressure around his head and the malice in the many-eyed Giver of Indigo Nightmares.
The doors had been sealed for a reason, and he doubted that reason was anything good. A flash of power and a loud thunk from within the doors told him that he was about to find out.
Leon stepped forward and reached out with his veritable ocean of power, his boundless aura forcing the doors apart with ease, revealing what was inside.
Everyone in the hall was professional and experienced to some degree. None were new to terrible sights. Still, several gasped in horror at the sight that greeted them.
The chamber beyond the doors was dark, but to the group of high-tier mages, this was no obstacle. It wasn’t as large as the antechamber, but the magic power still running through the walls somehow allowed gravity to function within, and for several lights to shine upon a large tree in the center of the chamber, naturally drawing all attention to it in the surrounding darkness.
Hundreds of bodies had been nailed to the tree, staining the earth at its roots with blood. Most of them were still armored, but all had their faces revealed. This gory spectacle captured almost everyone’s attention, but as Leon stepped into the chamber, he used his magic to pick something up off the ground, pulling Daryun’s attention to it.
A silver mask, shaped like a stern older man. A styled silver beard framed the brutally impassive face, and though the eyes were open, there were no eyeholes for the mask’s wearer to see through. Runic lines flowed across the mask’s visage, framing the face but doing nothing practical as far as Daryun’s distant observation could discern.
Further away, carefully arranged around the corpse-filled tree were hundreds more of these masks. Most had suffered some kind of damage, shattered into pieces or pierced by some kind of attack, but a few, such as the one Leon now held, were still intact.
It seemed clear that Leon knew what he was holding, though, if the tension in his armor shoulders and the glare Daryun could practically feel coming from his featureless helmet were anything to go by…
---
Disbelief. Confusion. Anger. Leon felt plenty of all three, but it was the first that dominated his mind.
’The mask of a Khosrow cultist…?’
It wasn’t the first time he’d handled such a mask, but the last time had been years ago during the initial exploration of the Artor Valley when a single one of these masks had been found in the hoard of the Wailing Dirge. Now, Leon beheld hundreds of the damn things, all arranged as if to send a message. He didn’t know how many bodies had been nailed to the tree above those masks, too, but if he had to guess, there was a mask for every cadaver.
“Cut them down,” he ordered, the sight inspiring nothing positive within him. “Give them a measure of—” He cut himself off as some of the bodies twitched slightly. He almost summoned Iron Pride until he heard a muffled shout, pained and weak, from within the pile of bodies.
‘Someone’s alive in there?!’
The thought barely finished flashing through his mind before he’d launched himself into the room, easily compensating for the weak gravity—about half of what he was used to in the Nexus—and flying over to the few bodies nailed to the tree that had twitched. In a fraction of a second, Archelaus was at his side, and in only a few seconds more, they’d torn out several of the nails and exposed a wreck of a human being within—thin, emaciated, deathly pale, with runes of torment carved into his skin. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, which were kept from healing by the runes etched onto his body and the nails hammered through his wrists and ankles, holding him to the tree.
“Jors!” Archelaus cried as he moved to free the mostly-dead man from the tree.
A hoarse groan hissed past the man’s parched lips as he attempted to respond, but he hung limply from the tree, unable to fully lift his head let alone coherently respond. His aura was weak and shaky, and Leon couldn’t even fathom what his tier was supposed to be given its weakness. After only a moment’s hesitation, Leon lunged into action to help Archelaus cut down this survivor.
Such was harder than he realized, however, since as soon as his armored fingers tightened around one of the nails, the magic within nearly blasted his hand off. Were his armor not made of Adamant, Leon guessed he might’ve been seriously injured if he’d committed to grasping the nail.
Archelaus, however, didn’t have the same issues as he’d retrieved some claw-like tool from his soul realm with which he easily pulled the nails out. He remained bound, however, as Leon found when he went to try and catch him—familiar-looking vines sprouting from the tree and dug into the man’s back. The vines were easily severed, however, and after one quick swing of Iron Pride, Leon had freed the man from their grip. At the same time, Archelaus removed the last of the nails, and once he was free, Leon and Archelaus gently carried him some distance away and lowered him to the ground.
“Clear!” Leon shouted, though the tau had already appeared at his side before the summon had finished leaving his mouth.
“Let me see him,” the tau demanded, and Leon made way. Healing light immediately began surrounding Jors, but before it could touch the man’s skin, the runes on his body flared, and he convulsed with pain. Clear immediately stopped, his red eyes wide with horror at what he was seeing.
“Don’t try,” Archelaus grimly growled. “We’re going to have to do this the hard way… Do you hear me, Jors-kil?” The Despot leaned over the survivor, and Leon saw the man open his dull brown eyes and give as much of a nod as he could manage. “Good,” Archelaus said. “Brace yourself…”
From his soul realm, Archelaus drew a scalpel, hardly enchanted but deadly sharp.
“The runes must be removed entirely,” the Despot told Clear. “Only when enough have been taken will my friend be healed…”
Clear frowned deeply, but he nodded in understanding, deferring to Archelaus in this matter.
As they set about their bloody work, Leon waved to the rest of his people to start cutting down the rest of the bodies, and quietly hoped that their one survivor didn’t succumb to his injuries before they could get some answers…