NPCs (27 page)

Gabrielle rose from her seat, hand already on her axe. It took every ounce of self-control she’d managed to muster not to draw the weapon and charge. As it was, she wouldn’t be surprised if her grip left fingerprints in the wooden shaft of the axe.

“The demons… it was you. You’re the reason the demons have been popping up all over the kingdom.”

“Yes, that was one side effect of using so much of The Bridge’s power,” Aldron admitted. “A terrible price that had to be paid. They slip past the world’s barriers, sent to unleash death upon areas where adventurers frequent, though even I don’t know who directs them.”

“What do you mean, ‘one effect’? What others did you unleash?” Thistle asked. His own ire was rising as well, his mind filled with memories of bloody bodies falling at his feet. Even if this mad wizard were actually right, no one deserved the sort of death Thistle had seen served up by those beasts.

Eric wanted to ask questions too, but he couldn’t quite make his tongue move. The artifact’s hold on him was growing. He felt as though his teeth were rattling from the vibrations of its song echoing through his body.

“Nothing as grand as the demons,” Aldron said. “I’ve only charted a few oddities, to be honest. The Bridge has not only blessed me with true enlightenment, but it has also given a lesser freedom to the minds of those in the realm. Adventurers seem shrouded by a magic that allows them to pass in our world without us realizing their foreign nature. The Bridge has shaken that magic, permitted a greater freedom of thought. Not enough to make everyone see the truth of what you are, but a little.”

“Just to be clear, you’ve unleashed unknown hordes of demons in exchange for what, exactly? Protection from adventurers, and a theoretical freeing of the kingdom’s minds?” Thistle got to his feet, hands resting on the hilts of his daggers. “You’d trade countless lives for that little? I think I speak for all of us when I say that your madness cannot be allowed to stand. Surrender now and pray the gods find a way you may seek repentance.”

“I was wondering when it would come to this,” Aldron said. “It was inevitable. You adventurers, you only know one way to live: through blood and blade.” The carvings on his staff began to glow a pale yellow, the color of his eyes. “But I am shielded by The Bridge, my mind suffused with the magical wisdom it has imparted. Go ahead, attack me uselessly. If you manage not to kill yourselves, I’ll happily finish the job. By all means, give it your best shot.”

Thistle, always one to oblige a host, yanked free a dagger from his belt and whipped it forward. It whirled through the air and sank right into the wizard’s fat gut.

Aldron looked in shock from the dagger to Thistle, to The Bridge, and back to the dagger. When he next raised his eyes, all jovial disdain was gone, replaced by pure, naked hatred.

“How… what are you?”

23.

Confused as he might have been, Aldron didn’t waste any time reacting to the new knowledge that he was no longer entirely protected by his Bridge. The hefty elven wizard lifted his staff overhead and slammed it down on the floor, releasing a shockwave that sent all but Grumph to the ground. It also conjured a hefty burst of smoke that clouded the area, watering eyes and obscuring vision.

“How did you hit me?” Aldron’s screams pierced the choking clouds and bounded off the walls. “Was it luck? Some artificial power? Tell me!”

“Just that good, I guess,” Thistle called from his nearly prone position on the ground. Though normally skilled at scrambling to his feet, the armor was slowing him significantly. As it was, he’d barely made it back to standing when a bolt of lightning zipped out and struck the floor where he’d been. The magical charge cleared away some of the smoke, giving him a clear visual on Aldron’s face, now flushed red with fury.

“You will tell me what magic you used to cheat The Bridge.” Aldron raised his staff and another lightning bolt shot toward Thistle. The gnome was almost able to dodge: almost, but not quite, as it struck his right shin squarely. Sheer force spun him through the air, and he landed in a heap. He was still conscious, albeit barely.

Aldron might have pressed the attack if not for the large axe swung at his head by an angry young woman in armor the color of blood. He deflected it with a raised hand, calling a near-transparent magical shield into existence just in front of him. If Gabrielle even noticed it, she paid no mind, pounding forward like a hellhound set on dragging some soul to the pits. As Aldron readied another spell, he felt the sting of ice strike his shoulder. A quick glance confirmed that the half-orc had cast a cold spell at him.

Eric crept up behind Aldron, staying as silent as he could, which was impressively so. The blast had partially snapped him out of the trance he’d fallen under when gazing at The Bridge. He could still hear it, still
feel
it, really, humming and pulsing like the blood in his veins. It was there, but it no longer overwhelmed him, meaning he could focus on things like aiding his friends. With every inch, he readied himself more, keeping his breathing steady, shifting his sword to his left hand so that he could stab from a better angle. He was drawing close to Aldron, only a few steps away from being able to sink his blade into the wizard’s ample flesh, when his whole body vibrated with a command from The Bridge.

Stop

It wasn’t a word, wasn’t a sensation, wasn’t a command; it was a fundamental aspect of existence. Eric could no more have disobeyed the order than he could have halted a sunrise. His entire body froze in place, and just in time.

Aldron, tired of fending off Grumph and Gabrielle, slammed the butt of his staff to the ground once more. This time, the concussion was not just force; it was ice and darkness as well. It blasted the area around him, coming only inches away from Eric before the magic subsided. Gabrielle was on the ground, bleeding from several wounds, and Grumph had been hurled into a wall. He was on one knee, and from the way his head bobbed about, it was evident he’d gotten a bell-ringing.

Quickly surveying the room, Aldron realized that Eric was still standing, locked in place mere inches outside the blast zone.

“How did you… you couldn’t have… adventurers
can’t
hear it.” Aldron whipped his staff around and a surge of black chains flew from the top. Eric jumped back instinctively, but they managed to wrap around his left arm, pinning it and his sword to the ground mere feet away from the pillar where The Bridge rested. “Impossible. But better to examine you, just in case.” Aldron’s muttering seemed to be growing more insane by the minute, a fact that wasn’t lost on any of the still-conscious party members.

Eric struggled against his shackles, trying in vain to find a way to free himself. It was no good; his arm and weapon were completely locked into place. While he yanked on the chains pointlessly, he felt a now-familiar surge in his body as The Bridge’s melody called to him. It was telling him to do something again. Eric understood the request, but not the reason behind it. Then again, the last order it gave had probably saved his life, so he reasoned it might be best to give the magical artifact the benefit of the doubt.

He pressed his hands to the ground, the hard stone pushing on the knuckles of his left hand where the sword’s hilt was chained in his clutches, and shoved himself upward. It wasn’t a lot of lift, and in seconds, Eric would crash back to the ground, but in that brief moment where his hind quarters were in the air, Eric had a slim window for action. He took it, striking out with his right leg and kicking The Bridge squarely off its pedestal.

“No!” Aldron yelled as it flew by, inches from his grasp. The gleaming artifact sailed through the room, seemingly destined to crash into the stone floor. Eric was doubtful that such a powerful item could be so easily destroyed, but with magic, one never knew. Perhaps fragility was the price for housing such overwhelming power. Whether it would have shattered or not was a question Eric would have to wait to learn the answer to, for it didn’t land on the floor.

The Bridge was snatched out of the air by a hairy, green-skinned hand belonging to a half-orc wizard who’d been pulling himself back up when a gleaming crystal came rocketing at his face. Grumph had barely enough time to register what it was he’d actually grabbed before he felt The Bridge break into his mind.

It was as if the whole world dissolved and then reformed, now made out of the same shimmering material as the artifact clutched in Grumph’s sizable fist. He could see the flow of magic running through the air to Aldron’s staff, to Thistle’s belt and armor, and to his own hands. He could sense the way the magic fit together, seeing it as not a series of symbols and gestures, but rather as an art meant to encapsulate the intangible. He could feel a pulse thrumming through the entirety of existence, a single undulating harmony that seemed to stretch back before time, and forward beyond the infinite. Grumph could also see the adventurers in the world, and Aldron was right: they were different. Something unnatural ran to their bodies, threads that reached past the veil of their reality and into a place that was strange and foreign. All of this Grumph experienced in less than a fraction of a second and then it was gone.

He realized two things upon coming back to himself: first was that it was no wonder Aldron had gone mad. Just that sliver of a moment had weakened Grumph’s grip on reality. The second thing Grumph realized, was that he was no longer confounded by the fifth spell in his book. His free hand swept through the air, carving symbols in the ether beyond mortal sight as words of power tumbled unbidden from his lips. With a final flourish, Grumph stuck out the palm of his hand.

“Rouse!” A blinding flash strobed from Grumph’s hand, forcing Aldron to hurriedly rub his eyes. As the word bounced around the room, the magic burst forth, flowing not at Aldron, who’d been braced for an attack, but rather to Thistle and Gabrielle’s slack forms on the floor. Their eyes leapt open as new energy poured into their bodies, and in seconds, both had scrambled up. Grumph knew it was only a temporary measure, not nearly as potent as Thistle’s healing. It would bring them back into the fight, though, and right now, that would have to be enough.

“Did I miss anything?” Thistle asked.

“Crazy wizard. Artifact gave him power. And I’m tapped.” Grumph struggled to keep his words steady even as a slight shake rippled through his body. That spell had taken a lot more power than he’d expected, more than he suspected he possessed. It was likely The Bridge had bolstered him a bit, but the aftereffects were already showing themselves. Grumph still pulled his bone-sword free with his off-hand. He might be out of magic, but he still intended to fight. The thought of magic reminded him of something else he’d noticed with his magic sight.

“Thistle, call your dagger,” Grumph instructed.

There was no time for further explanation, as Aldron’s vision had finally cleared, and the wizard wheeled around, staff at the ready. Fortunately, Thistle trusted his friend enough to take a few things on faith, so without hesitation, he let out the same quick call he’d used back in the arena. The dagger wedged in Aldron’s gut glowed briefly, then reappeared in the sheath of Thistle’s belt.

“Now, that is a handy gift.” He pulled the dagger free, along with its twin, and began circling, looking for an opening in Aldron’s defense.

“I don’t know how you’re all doing this, but I promise you’ll pay for it,” Aldron spat. He eyed the half-orc warily. The Bridge was hearty enough to withstand some rough handling; however, its power was both tremendous and unpredictable. As long as it was in an adventurer’s hands, there was no telling what effects might spill forth.

Aldron was so focused on Grumph that he nearly missed the red-armored blur racing toward him. As it was, he barely called up his magical shield in time to halt Gabrielle’s axe as it drove toward his face.

As soon as he halted the axe, Aldron felt a sharp pain in his back. The damned gnome had hit him with another dagger. On his left, the half-orc rushed forward, odd-shaped sword at the ready as he charged. It was clear Aldron wasn’t going to be able to beat them if he worried about The Bridge, so he closed his eyes, called forth a spell, and hoped it would all work out for the best.

Grumph saw the elven wizard shimmer as he approached, but he kept on coming. If he stopped every time a spell was cast, he’d never get anywhere. The half-orc swung his blade with every bit of strength he could muster, hoping to take the wizard’s head in a clean blow. Instead, the blade rang and produced sparks as it struck a tough, rocky exterior.

The first blow hit Grumph in his gut, taking his wind and remaining energy in a single strike. A second attack knocked the bone-blade from his hand, sending it clattering to the stone floor and nearly impaling Eric in the process. Grumph pulled The Bridge close as he sank to his knees, determined to keep it from Aldron for as long as possible.

“I’m sssssick of you,” hissed the seven-foot-tall monster that had once been Aldron. Its flat, serpentine head jutted out from a pair of broad shoulders, shoulders that, like almost all of its body, were coated in a thick, black armor that resembled stone. His form was humanoid, even though his arms did hang so low they nearly reached his knees and a thick tail sprouted from his rear.

Thistle lost no time hurling both of his daggers at its head, the only spot that seemed not entirely encased in armor. The first one managed to leave a gash on Aldron’s cheek, but the second bounced off a segment of armor near his brow.

A sharp ringing filled the air as Gabrielle hammered blows on the monster’s rough hide. The head of her axe chipped with every attack, yet she refused to relent, hitting again and again with everything she had. Aldron swept his claws at her; what had once been hands were now fingers ending in blades that begged to be coated in blood. She parried many of the blows, but a few landed on her torso. The demon-hide armor buckled against the force of the attacks, though it held intact. Whatever Aldron had turned into, it definitely didn’t carry the sort of blessing needed to easily rend demon flesh.