Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (32 page)

Sarbeneck paused, sighing loudly. “Of course, people would most likely get killed that way, and these orks might get rowdy and destroy some property or take out their frustrations upon the innocent villagers, if you understand my meaning.”

Pontin stepped back. “You do argue convincingly,” he said.

“I accept. But I don’t think these obsidimen are going to like being bothered.”

“We will deal with the obsidimen together,” Sarbeneck said. “Now, please, after you.” He gestured at the trail towards the tunnel.

Pontin signaled his entourage of guards to accompany him, then headed up the trail, leading the way to the cave.

Nancri joined them, as she had been instructed. Sarbeneck wanted her expertise; he felt more secure with her by his side. Gingreth brought along several large orks as well; it never hurt to have a show of force.

The tunnel seemed brighter than before, and a strange low hum resonated through the walls, increasing in volume as they approached the orichalcum-lattice chamber. The hum was melodious like muffled voices deep in the rock.

“The spell is intact,” Nancri said. “But something is happening to the astral imprint of the liferock.”

The chamber glowed a brassy gold in the distance, and This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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there was a mottled nub at the very end where the two obsidimen had merged during the ritual. “What is that sound?” Sarbeneck asked.

“I can’t tell,” said Nancri. “It could be the obsidimen and it could be something else.”

The hum grew louder and louder as they approached, and the floor began to vibrate. Then it died away again; sounding to Sarbeneck like the magical droning that questors of Upandal sometimes did to test the integrity of their constructs.

“Nancri, Pontin, how do we get the attention of these merged obsidimen?”

“They know we are here,” Pontin said, “but they may refuse to emerge.”

“Strip the threads of orichalcum off the walls,” Nancri said.

“That will get their attention.”

Sarbeneck removed a tiny miner’s pick from his belt and bent to the floor, preparing to gouge out a strip of the metal.

“No, do not mar the chamber,” came a voice from the direction of the nub.

Sarbeneck looked up to see a face in the rock, and the hints of arms and legs just beneath the surface.

“What do you want?” the face asked. “Why are you disturbing us? Our work is not complete.”

“We wish to be paid so that we may leave.”

“Your payment will come after we have finished.”

“How long will that be?” Sarbeneck asked.

“We intended to be finished by now,” said the obsidiman face. “But even with their resistance, I don’t think it will be too long before the rock is dead. Less than a month certainly.”

“A month! Ridiculous.”

“Sarbeneck,” Pontin interrupted. “I advise patience.”

“Will the agreed-upon payment not be worth it?” said the obsidimen.

The hum returned, more loudly this time. The floor vi-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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brated under Sarbeneck’s feet as the hum volume increased rapidly. He watched as a crack formed in the wall on his left.

With a deafening roar, something pulsed out of the crack. It glowed a brilliant cold blue and flashed at lightning speed across the chamber.

For a split instant Sarbeneck thought he saw the shape of an obsidiman in the cold blue halo — one of the rock people dancing at breakneck speed with his feet attached to the rock.

Then the halo blasted past, barely missing Sarbeneck’s face.

Sarbeneck flinched, lurching away from the near miss, whatever it was. The wake of its passing gusted around the cavern like a tornado of fire-hot wind, and the concussion of thunder knocked everyone in the chamber to the ground.

The floor opened up like the wall, and fire burst from the cracks. Lava followed the fire, spilling out of the wall, the heat hitting Sarbeneck like a hail of stones, palpable, singeing his hair and skin.

“No!” cried the merged obsidimen. “Not yet!” Then it was swallowed in a gush of molten rock.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sarbeneck croaked, lurching to his feet. But Pontin and his bodyguards were already scrambling out. Sarbeneck felt strong hands help him to his feet — Gingreth’s hands.

The humming approached again as they plunged down the slope of the tunnel. The cracks formed and the lava exploded from the roof of the tunnel behind them. What in all this Raggok-cursed wilderness is going on?

His legs pumped as fast as they could, hurtling him toward the exit. More cracks and more explosions sent chunks of rock and drops of lava flying past Sarbeneck’s head just as he passed through the exit and into the dark jungle.

He did not look back until he was a safe distance away.

And when he did, he saw fissures in the surface of the cliff face, glowing deep red. Fire red. The fissures were not natural for This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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they followed perfectly straight lines across the surface of the rock. The entirety of the tunnel was filled with lava now, gush-ing forth like a river of flame, igniting trees and undergrowth in its path.

Looking around, Sarbeneck spied Nancri, Pontin and Gingreth with the guards a few yards away, dripping with sweat and trying to catch their breath. They had all made it out alive and relatively unscathed.

Except those obsidimen. They are gone . . . gone with my payment!

“The strange thing is,” Nancri said, her eyes focused else-where. “Even though the cavern is gone, the astral rope spell, or whatever, is still connected to the pattern of the liferock.

But its color has changed from red and black to indigo and magenta. Perhaps the liferock is gaining control of it.”

“Who cares,” Sarbeneck said. “I’m sick of this place.” He watched Pontin and his entourage mount up and head quickly back toward Rabneth without so much as a backward glance.

Sarbeneck glared after Pontin, reluctantly letting the whiny dwarf ride away; there would be time to deal with him soon enough. Sarbeneck raised his eyes to see the dirty tents of his encampment and the crowd of exhausted workers staring up with frightened eyes at the radiant sight of the tepuis. He had brought all these good Name-givers a long way from their homes. They had fought harsh weather and the encroaching jungle. They all deserved to go home.

This is over, he realized. It is time to leave this place.

Luckily, Sarbeneck still had his little insurance fund —the extra orichalcum he had secretly stashed away from Pontin. He had learned over the years that such precautions were necessary for a healthy business. With the down payment gems and the stashed orichalcum, Sarbeneck figured he could pay off the orks and his workers, plus have enough for a good long vacation. Maybe he’d invite Nancri along.

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“Gingreth,” Sarbeneck said, “I want everybody mobilized as soon as possible. We’re moving camp now. If that lava continues unabated, it will reach our camp before morning.”

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

In the Sangolin cave, Vecrix had just made a move to release Pabl when a tremor shook the ground. Light crystals rattled in their sockets. Someone cried out in Pabl’s mind, like the distant specter of an obsidiman brother. But the words meant nothing to him, and he did not recognize the voice.

“What by Dis was that?” Vecrix said.

The large silhouette of an obsidiman came running down the tunnel. “Pabl!” It was Chaiel’s voice. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

The ground shook again, this time knocking light crystals to ground. One after another, the glowing gemstones dislodged and fell. Soon there was a rain of them, hard and bright, shattering into bursts of tiny shards. They exploded on impact, each one popping into constellation of sparks.

Loose rocks fell from the ceiling. The entire roof shifted and soon vast sections of it came crashing to floor around them. The cave was collapsing.

Vecrix looked toward Sangolin, an expression of realization crossing his face. “No,” he said. “We cannot lose this one. I 266

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planned it out. There was no flaw.” Then he stepped up to the surface of Sangolin and merged with the gray stone.

Pabl found he could move freely again. Vecrix had released him.

Chaiel’s rapid steps approached, and when he stepped into the dimming light, Pabl saw his face. His red-striped skin paint smeared around his mouth and eyes. He stepped up next to Pabl, breathing heavily from the run. “We must leave here now,” he said. “Ganwetrammus has been strengthened; it has released me from Sangolin and the two of them are battling. Don’t you feel it? Killing Reid must have worked.”

Pabl didn’t care about any of that. He was free. And he wanted — no, he needed — his sweet rapture. He had been waiting for so very long, and now it was finally time. His heart pounded a staccato rhythm in his chest. His skin was ice, his mouth dry. Nothing would stop him now.

Pabl barely saw the expression of surprise on Chaiel’s face when he stepped up to Sangolin and surrendered to the exquisite pleasure of the merge.

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

The shimmering blue glow brightened along Gvint’s skin as he and Jibn dived into the rock and continued their dance inside Ganwetrammus. The blue fire itched slightly like a static charge before a lightning strike. It was the signal for the final stage.

Jibn and Gvint converged in the last steps of the dance, and passed underneath the skin of stone. As they traversed the rocky interior of the mesa, magically coursing through it at breakneck speed, they maintained the graceful rhythm of their dance. The chanting grew in volume and intensity, magically amplified as the two Elders passed along the remaining filaments in the liferock’s pattern.

Strength infused Ganwetrammus. Gvint felt it now, astral power channeling through the web matrix into himself and through him to charge the pattern of the rock. With astral sight, he saw Ganwetrammus in its entirety. The drained areas, once gray, now glowed gold and red. The rest shone a blinding white.

There was no Horror to ensnare this time, so Jibn and Gvint finished the Ritual of Protection by narrowing in on 268

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the cavern and the invaders. Gvint was eldest, and he had accepted that he would be the one to sacrifice himself. The ritual required it.

But as the two of them wove a tighter and tighter knot on the intruders in the cavern, Jibn advanced to the fore. This time, I will go. Jibn’s thoughts came into Gvint’s mind. Garen sacrificed himself to save Ganwetrammus . . . because of me. It is my turn.

No! You are the younger. It is not your role.

My brother, you told me yourself: “Jibn, your liferock needs you now. Your brotherhood needs you.” Well, here I am. I can’t let you die for this. It is my place.

Not so. Gvint wasn’t ready to let Jibn give up his life. You’re not prepared —You have been guiding the brotherhood for years, and you should continue to do so; you are far better at it than I would be. You awakened me, showed me that I am guiltless. You saved me from my self-imposed exile for this very purpose — to right my wrong. I am ready; it is my time.

Without waiting for a response, Jibn edged past Gvint into the lead. Gvint had no choice but to switch with him or let the ritual fail. He adjusted his pattern of dancing, not missing a single step. They switched positions in that final moment, and Jibn slammed into the two intruders with the force of a volcanic avalanche.

Gvint slowed at the end, acutely aware that Jibn had saved his life. He watched as Jibn assimilated the intruders’ patterns into his own, and attached the massive astral thread to himself.

Jibn’s body exited the mining tunnel like a ballista missile, and with it went the astral thread. Stretched, the magical um-bilical snapped like a broken lute string.

Gvint stopped at the edge of the rock, watching as Jibn’s body — a blaze with blue fire — launched from the tunnel and This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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arched over the canopy of trees, disappearing into the distant Jungle.

Tepuis Garen is safe, and beyond all expectation I am still alive. The heat of the molten rock around him dried the tears streaming down his face.

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

His skin burned with ecstasy, penetrating into his chest and head in a wave of pure pleasure. He was complete, whole beyond anything he had ever experienced. The moment stretched on and on. He had no concept of the passage of time, just thrill. Just rush.

Nothing mattered anymore. Sangolin was all he needed.

His quest to purify the universe meant nothing. His search for understanding . . . meaningless. Pabl ceased to exist as he had before; his mind and body became an extension of Sangolin —a part of the amalgam of pure obsidiman forms.

Then it was all gone. Sangolin began to fracture. Pain flushed through the armored shell of pleasure which protected Pabl. He heard a distant chanting cry. The call was in the obsidiman language, a melodious low hum, ringing across vast distances. The hum penetrated Sangolin and pulled at Pabl.

Ganwetrammus.

Pabl emerged feeling empty and alone. The chamber was dark except for a few remaining light crystals in the arc of the cavern’s ceiling high above. The shadows of many, many ob-271

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sidimen filled the chamber, some pressing on Pabl, trying to merge. Others, like Pabl, were now free from Sangolin, lost and confused.