Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) (6 page)

"Everybody ready?" I cut short all ensuing chatter and put on my helm. "Tanks in the front! The pack on the right is first. Same strategy as always. Let's roll!"

We were in the final chamber of the cave. Here, the vaulted ceiling was covered with clusters of brightly glowing mushrooms, creating the illusion of a starry sky and looking altogether fantastic. Large formations of pink and pale-brown stalactites added to the ambiance. A river crooned to the right of the square entrance, half-disguised by streaming seaweed. If you looked hard enough, you could see through the clear black water to the distant bed, making out the bundles of phosphorous weeds and fish slowly stirring their fins. The whole thing would have been perfectly idyllic if it weren't for the final boss—the same necromancer I'd encountered earlier. At level 220 and 110 million HP, he seemed especially out of place.

It had taken us maybe two hours to get here. All the mobs we had encountered so far—frogs, starx, giant brown slugs oozing toxic vapors, and creatures that resembled land octopuses—hadn't given us any trouble. Neither had the four bosses we'd already slain, of which the only one that stuck with me was a mythical three-headed poison-spitting hydra. Of course, those heads didn't get to spit their poison for long. But what was a high-level raid boss doing in a level 170 dungeon designed for a party of ten? That was puzzling, to say the least. A trick of some sort on the part of the local AI?

Magus Diarten stood on a round square platform, his expression grim. More like, his fierce and arrogant face wore no expression at all. His right hand rested on the hilt of a black kris, while the left hung freely at his side. His tail lashed from side to side, and if it weren't for ominous crimson flame splashing out of his eyes, one might mistake him for a tifling immersed in his own thoughts after randomly wandering in here.

We weren't leaving this cave without killing this necromancer first. But how were we supposed to kill him? Our strategy against the first four bosses had been to simply overpower them on account of our high levels relative to this instance. The same approach wasn't going to fly here, and there were no strategy guides readily available for us to look up. We would need to play it by ear. Any raid boss fell into a rage half an hour after being engaged, at which point the fight was a guaranteed wipe due to a tenfold increase in damage. In theory, that time should be enough. Taking into account my Legendary Warlord achievement, the raid sporting more or less decent gear, and morale sitting at 30%, our collective damage output averaged around 85,000 per second. Even if the boss had resistance to cold, slashing Reece's effectiveness in a fight, we should still come out on top. His robe just couldn't absorb more than twenty percent physical damage—that was one of the game's principles. I would rather not have to waste one of the remaining three vials with Shaartakh's Venom on this dude, but let these precious potions be our ace in the hole in a truly desperate situation that would surely come up sooner or later.

"Problems, dar?" Iam's pensive voice brought me back.

"I'd say," I said with a grave nod. "We haven't encountered an opponent as strong as this one. And we cannot leave this cave for as long as this tifling lives. The main thing I need you all to remember is this—don't be a hero. If anyone dies in this fight, the whole clan will suffer as a result. I don't know what to expect once we attack, so stay sharp. Certain moves or attacks can be foreseen if you're paying attention."

"Who's going to tank him?" As usual, Aritor was all about the brass tacks.

"I will tank him. If anything goes wrong, I've got a shield that will give us an extra twenty seconds. Reece," I turned to the mage. "Throw Silence on him after I do. Melee, use rotation to try and interrupt all of his long casts. Pop combat form fifteen minutes into the fight. Everybody drink an Elixir of Possibilities—this is exactly the time to do it. Put only potions with mana and vigor on your belts—those should be enough for a half-hour fight. Any questions? Then buff up!"

The next half hour will decide if we're actually any good in a fight that counts,
I touched the vial with the venom of the Netherworld's Elder Demon, and raised my eyes to the tifling. His haughty face expressed absolutely no emotion.
Should anything go awry, this potion and the shield gifted by the goddess will be my overriding argument.

"Ready!" Reena was the last to report. Steadying the traitorous tremble in the knees, I barked the command. "Attack!"

"Vile creatures!" a voice boomed in my head, dripping with fury and madness. "Have you come to release your master? You shall die!"

The tifling's left hand lit up with black flame, but I shut him up right away with a Silence. Then, coming up right on top of him with a Step through Darkness, I drove an Ice Blade into his flesh and followed the momentum with a shoulder, hoping to topple him to the floor. The necromancer's body shuddered, but he kept his footing—his strength seemed to be no lower than mine. The magus stabbed my exposed side with his hideous kris, shaving off around 10% HP, as I registered information in the combat log about the boss' immunity to freezing. Shit! I started backing away from him, alternating my attack skills as usual, shielding myself from the flashing black dagger and the lashings of the bone-tipped tail. Ten seconds later the rest of the party joined in the fight. A cool wave of healing washed over my body; at the same time, an Ice Spear and six arrows plunged into the magus' chest. In an instant, the fight scene became crowded with Charging warriors.

For the next minute we hacked away furiously at the necromancer as he spun like a top. At exactly the sixtieth second, the tifling threw up his hands and let loose a dark wave that flung back everybody around him but me, then detonated in a series of ear-piercing mini explosions. The entire raid party's health dropped by a quarter, as searing pain shot through my body. Relief came several seconds later—a cool gentle touch lifting the anguish. Reena's alarmed voice boomed in the raid channel.

"How are you, dar? The wave put Silence on everyone but the tank!"

"I'm all right," I said, blocking another one of the magus' strikes. "Make sure to put Nourish on everyone
before
the next wave hits."

In the second phase, the wave of darkness gave way to stalactites falling from the ceiling. The spots where they would fall would begin to glow white three seconds prior, which made them easy to avoid—the only annoyance were the showers of shards that would spray my armor upon shattering. The third phase brought back the wave of darkness to go with the falling stalactites, causing some initial confusion, as evidenced by the pained cussing of fighters after failing to avoid one or the other. Thankfully, the healers pulled through and kept everybody alive, as I kept my eyes on Magus Diarten's rapidly diminishing health bar and on the timer counting down the seconds remaining before the boss flew into a rage.
So far so good—let's hope it stays that way,
I thought as the necromancer's kris glanced off my shield with a grating sound, and I countered yet again, connecting with a Tongue of Flame.

When the boss' health dropped to twenty percent, the fighters shifted into combat form and started taking turns popping Execution. The boss' chest began flashing with graphics of finishing shots and blows while to my right an earth elemental summoned by Reece crawled out of the ground and joined the fray.

The fight was drawing close to its logical conclusion when, at around the twenty seven minute mark with less than 100,000 HP remaining, the necromancer suddenly threw up his hands. A terrible blow knocked me backwards, the momentum carrying me another fifteen feet or so. A new message flashed in the system log:

Attention! Magus of Dark Magic Diarten dar Luan becomes enraged. Paralysis has been cast on the raid.

"What the hell!" The channel blew up with groans of wounded demons, who were apparently hit harder than me. "Thirty minutes ain't up yet!"

The magus shifted his shoulders, as if shrugging off a weight. He looked left and right, eventually fixing his gaze on me, his eyes aglow with hellish flames. He began moving toward me slowly, favoring his right foot.
Come at me, you bastard!
I clenched my teeth, stifling a cry of pain. Get closer, I've got a surprise for you! His remaining 86,000 HP would be gone in less than ten seconds, and Setara's Shield would keep me immune to any damage for twice as long—I wouldn't even need Step through Darkness. Suddenly the necromancer stopped dead in his tracks, as if walking into an invisible wall. His body convulsed, and the crimson darkness fleeted out of his eyes. In an instant he looked like an ordinary man—only terribly weary, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Dreamer? Praise the Great Darkness," he wheezed, his voice breaking. "I knew you would come." Seemingly stripped of all his power, he put his left hand forward, calling for silence. "You must finish the cause that I had begun! Slay the beast! And... and tell my daughter what happened to her father. Tell her I love her with every fiber of my being. Thank you, and farewell..." The tifling looked up to the ceiling. "I'm coming, mistress..." As the words escaped his lips, he gripped the hilt of his black dagger and plunged the tip of the blade into his chest. I saw a flicker of relief in the necromancer's eyes as his body took a step forward, carried by momentum, then crumbled next to me on the slabs.

Attention! You've earned a unique achievement,
First in the Swamp Cave
. You and your allies have been granted a permanent 3% increase to your physical and magic damage.

You've accessed the quest: Dire Tidings.

Quest type: unique.

Find Vaessa dar Luan in Xantarra, give her Hanteryon's Claw and tell her about her father's fate.

Reward: experience, unique skill, unknown.
             

So that's the rub,
I thought, getting up on my feet.
Yet another unique quest for being the first to complete the dungeon. Only what cause was he talking about? And what beast?
I was starting to grow real sick and tired of all these puzzles and stupid twists. Really, whose imbecilic notion was it to slip a powerful raid boss into an ordinary dungeon? He would be unbeatable for a party of ten in the level range appropriate for the instance. Unless I was missing something, considering the content was being developed before the latest patch. Otherwise, if I ever ran into the bastard responsible, I would make sure to give him a piece of my mind.

"Everyone alive?" I looked toward my clanmates as they were struggling off the ground.

"Alive, but not quite," Reece answered for everyone, nursing a seemingly bruised arm. "What was that scene at the very end?"

"Wish I could tell you," I said, counting off heads. "He's got a daughter in Xantarra that I'm supposed to find."

"A daughter?" the mage became animated, seemingly forgetting even the pain in his arm.

"Vaessa dar Luan," I nodded. "Do you know her?"

"Does a bear crap in the woods, dar?" Iam snorted, looking away from the hanging stalactites. "You won't find a bigger expert of Xantarra's fairer sex anywhere."

"Your combat form appears to have had a strange effect on you," the mage gave the warrior a look of great concern, then shifted his eyes to Reena, standing at his side. "You should keep an eye on your boyfriend. I'm not used to him speaking in complete sentences."

"Oh, buzz off," the girl dismissed him with a wave. "I'll remind you that a certain someone was buzzing in our ears all the way here about gathering some glowing moss. So why are we standing around?"

"Hold on," I reached out and grabbed Reece's shoulder. "What about this Vaessa? Do you really know her?"

"Who doesn't know the leader of the free mages guild of Xantarra, magus of dark magic Vaessa dar Luan?" going by his expression, the associated memories weren't quite pleasant. "She's a complicated woman that mortal men ought to steer clear of. But you, dar... I don't see why you can't try your luck."

"Start gathering your moss already," Salta shoved the smirking mage in the back after sneaking up behind him. Then she turned to me.

"How are you, dar? Is everything all right?"

"Aye," I said, getting lost in the woman's beauty yet again. And cursing my own stupid principles. Yet again.

We hadn't really talked ever since that time she fell asleep on my shoulder. Not that I was pining to have that conversation with her. Back in the real world I never missed a chance to pursue a comely woman, but I also followed one immutable law: never start a romance with a subordinate. Those never end well, and that is a fact. But sooner or later I would need to make a choice. And while my entire being yelled "Yes!" on top of its proverbial lungs, my rather advanced survival instinct was still managing—for now—to keep myself under control.

"That's good," the girl smiled with understanding. Then she turned around and started toward the others with a light step, knowing full well that I was watching her go...

Time to split,
I thought, leaning over the necromancer's body on the stone floor.
The dungeon is locked, the ore and the blood are collected—we're done here.

"Oh snap!" I blurted out at the sight of what the dead magus had. The haul of one thousand eighty gold was split as per the distribution system I'd set up: forty percent were split among all the raid members, fifty percent were transferred to the clan treasury, and my personal wealth was boosted by one hundred and eighty gold. Now, sure, I was already the de facto financial steward of the clan anyway. Still, order in finances lies at the core of any healthy organization, so I made sure to strictly separate my personal money from that of the clan. As for the loot, we could use only five out of the eleven dropped equipment pieces: rare chainmail boots and belt, tank plate boots and pauldrons, and an epic chestguard for a demon mage.