Oblivion's Crown Page 14

  Val gazed in awe as his wife demonstrated just how versatile his little dwarven cube was. Ironclad limits as to what tech could accomplish weren’t so ironclad as Dominion technologists thought, it seemed. Val and Ava shared secret smiles at the children’s tales later that night as they planned their adventures for the next day, allowing Val to savor, for however brief a time, the life of a devoted husband and father. Utterly free of any burden or doom.

  For three glorious days Val enjoyed all the joys of fatherhood. And for three glorious nights he savored sweetest passion in his beloved Ava’s arms. And never did she look at him with anything but tenderest compassion when he would wake up screaming, soothing him back to gentle sleep once more, nightmares of horror and death having no place in this dream of domestic bliss Ava gave him.

  Then fate demanded he embrace his bittersweet destiny once more.

  Solemn eyes gazed into his own as Val woke up from sweetest reverie.

  Gut clenching as he instantly understood that it was time.

  “Ava...”

  She smiled, shaking her head, wiping away a single tear. “But kiss your daughter’s brow, husband. Father and the elders have returned with the items you requested. It’s time.”

  Val furrowed his brow, not quite sure what exactly he had requested, but didn’t hesitate to hold his sleeping daughter one last time, heart bursting as he gazed into Ava’s eyes, wanting to say so much, unable to say a word.

  Her hand stroked his cheek. “Be safe, my love. I wish you and your pride all the happiness in the world, until you can return to me once more.”

  Val felt his cheeks burn. “Ava.”

  Dimples formed with her smile. “May your wives warm your heart and bear you many children. May they one day lead nations under your banner, knowing that they are kin to the very race our mutual enemies once sought to slay. It is my hope, Valor, that Avelina’s future brothers and sisters will one day come to know their sister and love her deeply. And may their love be echoed by all the nations your blood will one day control.”

  She kissed him farewell, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “I will wait for you, husband. For within Jordia’s comforting embrace, I am the only one for you, and you, the only one for me.” She then shooed a speechless Val out the door, closing it firmly behind him, and his heart broke for the soft sobs he heard on the other side.

  Arilius’s powerful hand gripped his shoulder. “Come, Champion. It is time.”

  With an aching heart, Val wordlessly followed the dwarven king to where he had placed, under careful supervision, the 2-point shimmering gate that would allow only dwarves and those he personally designated through. He had chosen Greengrove Estate as the exit point. With the war of succession focused on the northern continent and a much weaker presence in the south, it was the safest means of retreat and would put the survivors half a world away from any direct assault, should enemies one day find their pristine city. Eventually that might change as shortsighted Highlords sought to assert their control over peoples they had once wisely granted near-autonomy, but for now it was the best option. And if Val had his way, the Dominion presence in the south would forever be minimal.

  Of course, the Dwarves were no fools. Despite Val’s assurances, they had fortified the area with a massive reinforced dome of near-indestructible alloy with a door easily opened only from the outside, and Val didn’t blame them a bit for their caution. He knew with his control over the city, he could near instantly override both lock and defensive mechanisms with a simple surge of his will, but the defenses weren’t meant for him, after all.

  But Val had his own immediate task before him. He had to make sure that the Christos clan had kept their word, that only friendlies populated Greengrove estates. Friendlies who would take a Greater Oath to be given permission to live and learn under his banner, perhaps knowing cooperation and arcane growth unlike anything they had known before. Or so Val hoped. He squeezed his fists tightly at the thought of all that could go wrong as he approached the dome and the dwarves waiting to send him off, eyes alighting at the massive metal plates of Elementium alloy neatly stacked before the doorway, heart racing as he dared to hope it meant what he thought it might.

  Garilius, the massive, muscular dwarf, was the one to greet him with a hearty chuckle and a powerful clap on the shoulder even as the other elders solemnly nodded their respect. “These are for you, lad. My king informs me you have a knack with storage that would be the envy of any arcane artificer, and I, for one, can’t wait to see you try to store these away.”

  His bright blue eyes twinkled with mirth, delighting in Val’s awe, and the whispered gratitude Val couldn’t help but give.

  “Are these what I think they are? I don’t have words. Just, thank you. The difference these could make in the struggles to come...” The words died off as Val gazed at what he was now utterly certain were effectively two dozen massive breast and back plates of an alloy gleaming far brighter than the buildings using only trace amounts of Elementium to give their bronze structure incredible durability, brighter even than the dwarven armaments he had stored away that could resist any Dominion laser and, Val suspected, most Earthbound small arms fire as well. So he could only imagine the incredible durability of the massive shimmering plates before him.

  “In case it isn’t as obvious as gold shines, you have your vanguard battle-mechs don these just like a human would wear a suit of armor. You might need some engineers to assist, but the fastenings should fit right snug over the lockpoints I studied in those cubes.”

  Val was smiling in awe. “This is incredible. Absolutely incredible! When I use my Arcane Perception, I see a breathtaking weave of Elementium and Valorium fibers running through it! Just how tough is this armor?”

  “Tough enough to serve as armor for a battleship strong enough to resist even Dreadnought volleys," the dwarf assured.

  Val was speechless with awe. “How?”

  Garilius grinned. “We were one of the three cities. All our resources went into supporting Stridborg’s prototype battleship. With our access to vast Valorium reserves, a significant portion of our population were engineers dedicated to the forging of the very plates we would then transport to Stridborg. Only half our population was dedicated to the construction of this city, and Arilius had his work cut out for him. Of course, seeing as we are not fractious humans, the flow of work and specialization went as smoothly as any dwarf could hope. Both operations were segregated, and developing the mines first allowed us to complete the city and forge the Valorium cores needed to keep Falinnborg hidden from all our foes even as we forged the plates that would ward our ship from the vilest of enemies!”

  Astmar nodded. “It was no easy feat, but with the information you provided and our workshops and tools now of a quality beyond even what I recall, we were able to alter the thinnest plates we had into two dozen cuirasses suitable for the battle-mechs we studied from your cubes.”

  “It took the work of every engineer and artificer within our entire city,” Garilius explained. “All of them working in perfect unison for the three days we devoted to their reforging, but the results, I think you’ll agree, are worth it.”

  An awed Val bowed from the waist. “All I can say is thank you. This is a fantastic gift. Beyond fantastic!”

  “Good. I’m glad you approve, lad. Now let’s see if you can actually store them the way Arilius assures us that you can!”

  A smiling Val did just that, pleased to see a dozen flummoxed expressions as the massive cuirasses were transported to his dimensional rift in the time it took to touch them, taking up 24 slots in the grid that so accurately reflected his Arcane and Psion pools, now more a rectangle than a square, as his Mana reserves had become so much greater than his Psion, due to the intense demands of his last series of level-ups.

  “Beyond impressive,” Ava’s father said, clasping arms with Valor as he personally led him to the gate. Astmar’s bright blue eyes peered deeply into Val’s own before he at last g
ave an approving nod. “For all my reservations, you have done nothing but prove yourself the most worthy of allies, all a dwarf could hope for in a son. Be well, Valor. I shall make sure Avelina always knows her father’s name, no matter what the fates should have in store for any of us.”

  Val swallowed and bowed his head in gratitude. “Be well, Astmar, and thank you.”

  With final goodbyes to the dwarves he now felt such fierce kinship to, he took a final deep breath, approached the gate, and jumped through.

  11

  Duck!

  “The Ormurs have broken through! Attack!”

  Val almost died during the heartbeat’s disorientation he had after jumping through the gate, already crashing to the ground as a bolt of necromantic death crackled through the air, clawing together a shield of arcane energies as fast as he could blink.

  Your EM Mastery fails to lock onto Deathbolt as you have just gated! Good thing you ducked!

  Boosted Synergized Ward successfully Fast-Cast for 100 mana! Critical failure avoided. It looks like you can Fast-Cast even the most unorthodox arcane applications after all! Fast-Casting is now Rank 2!

  Psiblade knocked out of alignment by electromana surge! Too bad you didn’t have a second’s warning to put up your EM Mastery field before someone launched a Deathbolt at your head!

  Dwarven Blade successfully pulled out of storage!

  Val wasted no time, Perception taking in the three frightened-looking, bedraggled men in worn, bloodstained robes facing him, instantly recognizing the similarity of their features, all of them cast from the same mold as Alwin Snivelpuse of Clan Christos. They lacked the perfect symmetrical beauty of other Dominion Jordians. But the potency of the arcane energies crackling in the room, hands wielding balls of necromantic death or fire alongside powerful Magewards, made it clear they had other strengths that made up for any deficits in comeliness.

  Even as he catalyzed his dwarven blade, its edges now shimmering with Psionic energy capable of biting through steel, Val noted the terror in their eyes, the air rank with sweat and fear.

  “My name is Valor Hunter. I walk the Path of Kings, and I claim this land as mine! If you are kin of Alwin, then I have no quarrel with you. If you give me your oath to serve under my banner and never betray me, then you may study here free of censure or persecution!”

  “Liar!” screamed the closest mage. “You’re just another serpent working on behalf of the Ormur clan! Swearing to join our cause when your only goal was to seize the tower for yourselves and butcher us while you could!”

  “Saada Surmansa!” The furious young man lashed out with his wand, sending a burst of necromantic energies straight for Val’s heart.

  Test of skills engaged! Deathstrike vs. L10 PRM + L4 EM Mastery. +4 for familiarity parrying Christos-designed artifacts: Success! Necromantic magics mirrored on the principles of their original wands are effortlessly pushed aside!

  The young mage who looked no older than an American highschooler, for all that he could easily be thirty, lurched back in shock. “No. There is no way you could do that! I had you dead to rights! Even an Ormur mage wouldn’t dare face us at such close range!”

  Val’s eyes crackled with barely suppressed fury. “I will let that go. Once. If you ever strike at me again, I will cleave your head from your shoulders, no matter how young you look!”

  Intimidation Skill Check: Critical success! All three mages are cowed by your ability to parry their magics. Fear, battle-fatigue, and desperate hope that you might actually be who you say you are has further boosted the effectiveness of your skill!

  The oldest among them raised his hand. “Stop, Relawin! He parried your magic effortlessly, armed and armored just as Alwin said he would be.” He gave a considering nod, lowering his own blazing fist, the magics dampening considerably. “You say you’re this Valor Hunter who has claimed these lands, according to my cousin, for all that they were sworn to us.”

  The mage took a shuddering breath. “Very well. If you are who you say you are, then you should know that we are under attack! Clan Ormur entered these lands under a flag of truce, only to strike at us the moment they verified the tower’s existence for themselves! We have lost three of our brethren to those treacherous worms, and it is all we can do just to hold this manor!”

  Val frowned, noting the ruin that the grand central hall of his manor had become. Exquisite tapestries singed by fire and darker magics, the fine hardwood furniture shattered to kindling, portraits displaying exquisitely rendered scenes of Highlord life had been shredded beyond repair. Even the fine polished marble flooring was cratered by magical attacks of one sort or another.

  Val locked gazes with the mage who had spoken. “Where is Alwin? I need to speak to him immediately. But first, I need your oath. All of your oaths of service before we go any further.”

  Intimidation skillcheck: Failed!

  The older mage flashed a mirthless smile. “I don’t doubt you’re power, battle-mage. I can see the Doom in your gaze. But before I dare bond my soul to your own like Alwin did, I would know the worth of your mettle.”

  Val clenched his jaw as the three men before him narrowed their gazes, before jerking a nod. “Alright, then. We swear a mutual oath to not deliberately strike each other while we clear out this Ormur threat. And let this be the proof of my mettle: If I can purge my territory of those bastards, you will serve me in good faith, and I will treat you with respect.”

  Intimidation + Mercantile skillcheck: Success! Compromise reached!

  All three of the mages gave thoughtful nods at that. “I can live with that,” their spokesman said. “My name is Zelawin Christos. This is my son, Relawin, and my brother Telvarin.”

  Val deliberately sheathed his blade and the three mages before him offered their hands. Yet even as their leader’s eyes widened as Val's oath took hold, the other two did not hesitate to clasp wrists, Val feeling a certain satisfaction that at least he didn’t have to worry about them striking him in the back.

  “Good. Now point these bastards out to me.”

  Val blinked as the sound of screams and the roar of explosions could be heard coming from the farmost corridor.

  Zelawin flashed a mirthless smile. “Thataway, battlemage. I hope you can fight as good as you can glare.”

  True Artifice skillcheck: Success! You have repaired your Psiblade! Now using EM Mastery field to stabilize electromana flows around you for 1.25 mana per second!

  Val smiled “Watch me.” Darting forward faster than the three mages could follow, already knowing the role he would play as he approached the hastily fortified entrance of the manor. He quickly made out the harried features of Alwin and another half-dozen mages, impressed despite himself to see the massive unified shield they had put up, successfully countering a fearsome barrage of arcane attacks, the air alive with wild flashes of light and darkness. The front foyer, of course, was a total loss.

  “Alwin, I’m to your rear,” Val declared in a calm yet loud voice, hoping to alert the mage over the din and roar of arcane battle without disrupting him. The arcane sphere surrounding him and his clanmates also kept Val out.

  Alwin tensed for only a moment. Turning his head just far enough to catch Val’s gaze.

  Ugly he might be, with toadlike lips and bloated features. But Val couldn’t deny the man radiated a certain charisma as he stood strong against arcane death, dull eyes now flashing with fierce resolve. “So you’ve come! I’ve kept my oath, Valor Hunter. Now be worthy of our clan in turn and help us against these bastards! Only treachery allows them to dig their dagger so deep, killing three of my brothers even as they seek to cut down the rest of us, greedy to hold all the secrets of the lost tower for themselves!”

  Val flashed a cynical smile, having deduced that much already. “Very good. Continue to hold your shields, Alwin. You’ll be the bright light they focus all their energy upon.”

  “Very well, Valor. If you can pull off a miracle? I don’t care how you do it!”

>   Val didn't bother to answer, darting full speed away from the brilliant pyrotechnical display of lightning, fire, and explosions that were the visible manifestations of a dozen or more dueling wizards.

  Soon Val was one with the rapidly growing twilight and gloom just past the devastated foyer, and the brilliant flashes rapidly dimmed. Further still and there was just the fragrant smell of exotic beds of flowers, charred wood, and death perfuming the air. And there was no contender in sight, no matter how suspicious-eyed sentinels glared through the growing twilight. Just the evening breeze rustling the grass as shadows crept forward, sensing all the pieces of the board.

  Such as the handful of carefully positioned mages fifty yards out, glaring with hate-filled eyes at the manor of their enemies. Their lips twisted as eldritch syllables catalyzed fearsome magical curses shrieking through the air. Bolts of fire, ice, and lightning raining down upon their foes as well, a single mage in each quartet whispering a constant stream of syllables as their uniform necklaces glowed, arcane flows of energy gifting them with massive arcane shields as impressive as the palanquins that had once guarded crossbowmen, centuries ago.

  Contest of Skills: Magesight vs Shadowmind – Shadowmind holds!

  Yet like any entrenched opponent who has sacrificed mobility and flexibility for cover, with all eyes facing forward, they were easy prey for that which was unexpected, screaming out in terror and fear as a dark sliver of oblivion itself cleaved through the heads of the two rearmost mages, the forward two having only a heartbeat to take in the sudden splash of warm wet crimson raining down upon them before gasping and shuddering as oblivion effortlessly tore through their spines.

  In an eyeblink, two mages were dead and two others crippled, writhing in agony. The other clusters of mages were too busy throwing everything they had at their enemy’s wards to pay any mind to their fallen brethren.