Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (27 page)

“Eighty years maybe,” Pabl said, choking out the words.

He looked at Reid, hoping that he was wrong in his suspicion.

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“The Othellium Brotherhood is here now?”

Reid gave a sad nod. “Everyone except Ohin Yeenar.”

“Dis take this place,” Pabl said.

Reid stood and began pacing back and forth across the small space. “Tell me again,” he said. “Tell me about what is happening with your — with our liferock.”

“What do you mean?”

Reid stopped pacing and bent down to stare into Pabl’s eyes. “The rock is threatened by a mining camp, is that what you said?”

Pabl leaned back, nodded.

“In a particularly vulnerable place, right?”

“Yes, why?”

Reid began pacing again. “Anything else? Anything strange or peculiar?”

“No, I don’t think so. They came for the orichalcum; Tepuis Garen is rich with it.” Pabl remembered the failed attack on the miners. “Only that they seemed to have a spy in the village — a dwarf who tipped them off to our attack.”

“Did you see any obsidimen around who weren’t from our brotherhood?”

“No,” Pabl said. “What are you implying?”

Reid stopped pacing again, closed his eyes and looked down at Pabl. “I think Sangolin may be trying to destroy Ganwetrammus.”

Pabl stood up. “What? That’s ludicrous. Impossible.”

“No, I’m afraid it’s neither. Sangolin has killed liferocks in the past; it destroyed Othellium in fact.”

Pabl’s muscles tensed up; he felt his whole body become rigid. “But how could . . .?”

“With Vecrix’s help, and mine, I’m ashamed to admit.

About five of our original Gathering were from Othellium, and Sangolin wove astral threads through them and their connection to their liferock. It drained Othellium of life energy, ever This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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so slowly. It started before the end of the Scourge, I think, and continued until Othellium was too weak to survive on its own.

Then Sangolin sent me and some others to gather the desperate, orphaned brotherhood. Sangolin only wanted the obsidimen. It needed more spirits to feast upon.”

“That can’t be happening to Ganwetrammus,” Pabl said. “I don’t believe it.”

“Why not? It makes sense; Sangolin only needs a few more obsidimen before Vecrix performs his spell to make it into a liferock.”

“We haven’t felt any sort of energy drain or connection to Sangolin. We would know, wouldn’t we?”

“Ohin Yeenar didn’t know; he still doesn’t.”

Pabl felt a chill creep along his skin. His spirit sank. Ganwetrammus may be in grave danger, he thought. Much worse than I’d imagined. He tried to speak, but found no words.

“If Sangolin is using my connection to Ganwetrammus against our liferock,” Reid said. “I don’t know what can stop it.”

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Thirty-One 

When Pontin returned to the mining camp with his two companions to inspect the progress on the tunnel, Sarbeneck was ready for them. He had made Nancri and the rest work long hours in order to finish the chamber on time. He wanted this business concluded as quickly as possible.

Pontin and his bodyguards, or whatever they were, met Sarbeneck and Nancri at the entrance to the tunnel. They appeared to Sarbeneck just as they had last time. And even though Nancri was suspicious of them, they looked and acted appropriate to their function.

Pontin asked Sarbeneck to increase the ork sentry just outside the cave, claiming that he had heard rumors of another obsidimen attack. Then Pontin spun around in his bright blue cape and marched into the tunnel, not waiting for Sarbeneck. His bodyguards followed behind.

Sarbeneck told Gingreth to double the number of orks standing guard, then entered the cave with Nancri at his side.

The entire length of the tunnel had been cut smooth on the inside, circular except for the floor. Thin threads of orichalcum 221

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spiraled back along the slight slant of the corridor.

The orichalcum filaments would be either ridiculously ex-travagant or a very expensive joke in Throal, but here their presence seemed just plain anomalous . . . unless the chamber was going to be used for magic of some sort.

Perhaps the bodyguards are questors of some Passion, and this chamber will be used for ritual ceremony. If so, Sarbeneck did not want to know about it. He didn’t really care as long as he was paid.

“Come along,” Pontin said, “you’ll want to be close to us when the spell begins.”

“What spell is that?”

“Just trust me, you’ll want to be in the chamber and not the tunnel.”

Sarbeneck gave a questioning look to Nancri. “Should we?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so. This will prove interesting at the very least.”

“I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is worth the risk,” Sarbeneck said.

“Don’t worry, Sarbeneck,” Pontin said. “We will not hurt or delay you. As soon as the ritual is complete, we’ll be able to walk through the tunnel safely. If everything goes as planned, we can even remove the orichalcum.”

I’ll kill him if he breaks his word again, Sarbeneck thought.

He fixed Pontin with a hard stare, said, “We will come.”

“I’m so glad.” Pontin’s whine was exceptionally patroniz-ing. “But we should hurry; these two are anxious to begin the spell.”

Sarbeneck gave Nancri a grim smile, then motioned for her to lead the way down the tunnel. He followed the rest of the way up to the newly finished chamber at the end of the corridor.

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the tunnel until they became the lattice which coated the walls, ceiling and floor. The hemispherical chamber glimmered reddish gold in the artificial light. While he admitted that the whole thing was awe-inspiring, it made Sarbeneck ill to see orichalcum wasted like this.

Pontin took up a position on the left side of the chamber, behind an arc of rock which mimicked the curve of the wall.

An indentation had been carved into the rock’s surface behind the fake wall, presumably for three or four smallish people to stand or sit.

Sarbeneck whispered to Nancri. “Watch what happens in astral space, and describe it to me.”

She nodded.

“Over here,” Pontin said, waving. “Stand in here with me.”

Sarbeneck and Nancri climbed around the false wall into the indentation. “What is going on?” Sarbeneck said. “Hon-estly, I’m annoyed by all the surprises. I thought I was being hired to mine and smelt, then you give me two days to build a chamber that would be the envy of a questor of Upandal. Now, I’m watching some sort of spell. I just —”

“Your role in all of this is nearly over,” Pontin said. “Then I will pay the remainder of your contract, and you can march back to Throal. Now, be quiet and observe.”

Sarbeneck watched the two guards finish making the final measurements. And as he looked, the illusion faltered. In place of Pontin’s guards stood two obsidimen and Sarbeneck nearly bolted out of the tunnel.

Pontin caught his shoulder. “They’re with us,” he said.

The two rock men were huge — immensely broad and quite tall. Their skin was the color of dark rock, one black onyx and the other gray like slate. Gone were the weapons the dwarfs had carried, as well as the armor and other gear. These obsidimen bore no clothing, their bodies naked except for fiery red paint which traced fragmented patterns across their This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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skin.

They paced around the chamber, searching the walls and ceiling for blemishes, flaws in the orichalcum lattice, divots in the perfect curve of the rock. They found nothing; Sarbeneck had done his job well.

When they were satisfied with the construction of the chamber, they started weaving the spell. They faced each other and began to hum. Deep and resonant, the two rock men formed long, multi-syllable words in a language unfamiliar to Sarbeneck. The two touched palms, momentarily, then turned around — back to back.

They pressed against each other, black skin against gray, the red paint patterns on their skin melting together as they became one body. One body with two heads, one facing each direction. And four arms, four legs.

By Raggok, Sarbeneck thought. He had never seen anything like it, though he had heard stories of rock men merging with each other. Never had he imaged them to be true. Sarbeneck looked to Nancri and Pontin for a reaction, but got nothing. They were captivated.

The low droning chant continued from each mouth as the body walked awkwardly on four legs, moving slowly toward the wall opposite the tunnel. Two of its arms traced cryptic patterns in the air, and Sarbeneck thought he could see wisps of light at its finger tips.

Nancri’s breath came into his ear. “They’re creating some sort of spell, drawing power through the spiral of orichalcum.

The spell pattern looks like hundreds of tiny filaments, maybe thousands, twisting together.”

Sarbeneck couldn’t see any of that; he could only hear the low rumbling voices of the merged thing; feel the crackle of magical energy in the air make his hair stand on end. The combined obsidimen reached the far wall, and it brushed the rock surface with its other two hands, not engaged in casting This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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the spell.

“Now, they’re trying to merge with the liferock,” Nancri said.

Sarbeneck watch with awe as the fingers of the two hands which traced along the surface of the rock melted into the stone momentarily, only to jerk back as though stung. The hands continued their motion, only to merge a little farther the next time.

“The rock is resisting,” Nancri said. “But the obsidimen get deeper with each try.” Sarbeneck heard wonder and respect in her tone. “This spell is very complex,” she said.

“What do you see?”

“It appears that they’re weaving some sort of thread, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s huge, so large it defies description. It is pulsing with red and black filaments, interwoven with wisps of white. They’re spooling it out along the spiral hairs of orichalcum in the tunnel which is twisting it for them, making it strong enough to hold together.”

Nancri paused a second, glancing questioningly at Pontin. “I know they’re trying to attach one end of the spell’s pattern to the liferock inside the tepuis, but what about the other end?”

“Just watch,” Pontin said.

Sarbeneck watched the two merged obsidimen creep closer and closer to merging through the orichalcum-lattice wall into the liferock. There was no real danger here, just weird magic. And while Nancri’s descriptions were interesting, he eventually grew bored. Over an hour had passed and it didn’t seem like they were any closer to finishing the spell.

“When can I get out of here?” he said.

“Try and relax,” Pontin said. “Obsidiman magic is mighty impressive, but it tends to be a little on the slow side. I’m afraid you’re stuck here for the duration.” He pulled some bread and cheese from a pouch under his cloak. “But I brought a few goodies to pass the time.”

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“How thoughtful.”

“Do you want some or not?”

“Did you bring wine?” Sarbeneck asked.

“But of course.”

“Then sure, I’d love some.”

“Shh,” said Nancri. “Something is happening.”

“What?” Sarbeneck said.

“Look, they’re having a lot of trouble merging with the rock.”

Just as Nancri finished speaking, the merged obsidiman body was thrown clear of the wall. It flopped back and landed in the center of the chamber. The rock where they had tried to merge was no longer glimmering red-gold along the threads of orichalcum; instead the lattice looked mottled with tiny holes and pockmarks.

“Something just reached out and shoved them back.”

The obsidiman body stood as one, still merged with each other, and approached the wall again. One of the hands produced a sharp metal blade from somewhere, glinting cold in the crystal light. The hand pressed the edge of the blade against the forehead facing the wall. Then it drew the sharp metal across its skin in a slow motion slice, cutting a gash into its own flesh.

The iron tang of blood filled the stifling air, and the tone of the humming shifted slightly, increasing in urgency as blood flowed from its wounded forehead. The melded obsidimen pressed the gash against the stone, the dark red liquid flowing freely over the rock. The blood was black in the dim light, and the rock yielded under it, melting beneath the pressure of their joined head.

A deep sound of drums and cracking rock rebounded around the cavern, deafening Sarbeneck. He brought his hands to his ears to block out the noise, but his action did no good.

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Several bulges formed in the side of the cavern across from Sarbeneck, body shapes glimmering like life-size gold statues. Then another grew from the rock wall just on Sarbeneck’s left, near to the merged obsidimen. And another bulge appeared next to Sarbeneck — an obsidiman shape protruding out from the rock, its facial features blurred by the webbing of orichalcum.

He startled and jumped into Nancri.

“They shouldn’t be able to penetrate the orichalcum lattice,” Pontin said. “It’s their own liferock and they can’t even get out.” He gave a little laugh which sent chills along Sarbeneck’s spine.

He said they shouldn’t be able to get out, Sarbeneck thought. Which means, maybe they can. Sarbeneck remembered the iron grip of an obsidiman hand against his throat.