The Land: Catacombs (Chaos Seeds Book 4) (10 page)

Blood flowed freely down his leg, and the bleeding status he had earlier was put to shame.  A large blood red teardrop appeared in the corner of his vision, showing that he was losing fourteen health points per second.  An involuntary scream escaped from Richter’s mouth before he clamped it closed again.  The black limb at his face continued poking his lips.  The aberration’s raucous laughter filled the air.

“Oooh, you taste so good,” the sultry voice said with a disgusting hunger.  “We must have more!” 

The tentacles holding Richter moved him upward and forward until his body was suspended above the black mass of the aberration’s body.  It contorted him so that the blood draining out of his leg dripped directly into one of the mouths.  The creature’s other mouths cooed as the mouth beneath him noisily smacked and gulped his life essence. 

“Stop,” the gruff dwarf mouth said.  “We can’t kill him yet.”  Some of the other mouths complained or grumbled, but Richter was moved back in front of the monster, his limbs spread-eagled again.  The monster had drunk his blood for more than ten seconds.  The time it had spent draining him had at least allowed his bleeding status to improve.  The large blood-red icon had been replaced with a smaller one.  Red blood continued to flow down Richter’s leg but at a reduced rate.  Despite the blood loss having decreased, he still felt a trifle woozy.

“Now, we are sorry about that bit of unpleasantness,” said a voice that hadn’t spoken yet.  Richter couldn’t see which mouth was speaking, but the voice was the most surreal yet.  It sounded like a kindly old grandfather, comforting and reasonable.  “You must understand though, young Master, we have been trapped here for so long.  I’m sure you wouldn’t begrudge a starving man a meal, would you?” 

All of the eyes that Richter could see oriented on his face.  The tentacle was still poking at his mouth, so he kept his lips screwed shut.  The silence stretched out, and the eyes seemed to widen expectantly, so he gave a slight shake of his head, all he could manage with the tentacle around his neck. 

“See, we knew you could be reasonable,” the kind voice said.  Some of the other mouths seemed to grumble in disagreement.  The voice continued, “You have hurt us.  Your arrow silenced one of our voices and your fire burnt many of our limbs, but we think we can put that behind us.  As we said earlier, we have been trapped here for many centuries.  An old runic enchantment has kept us tied to this place since we were created by a Master of this Place of Power so long ago.  We believe it is only fair that because you are the new Master, that you fix this grave injustice.”

The voice started sounding less reasonable and adopted a note of what Richter could only identify as religious zeal. “We have suffered long enough.  Our pitiful level and size are only the barest glimmer of our former power.  We must be free.  You will set us free.  If you do not, you will be subject to the most depraved violations that we have come up with over countless years of confinement.  We see the defiance in your eyes!  We feel you still wriggling to get free!  Perhaps you just need a taste
of what we can do!”

A tentacle slipped up his leg, having entered through the hole in his pants.  The tentacle at his mouth drew back a foot.  The protrusion tensed, and the tip grew more pointed.  It quivered, and Richter knew that playtime was over.  The tentacle in his pants moved between his legs and up to his buttocks.  He knew that in just a second, the tentacle in front of his face would drive forward into his mouth and down his throat.  He had a pretty good idea that the other one might try to meet in the middle.  Richter could see the future clearly, and the fear of what was coming felt like a black hand wrapping around his heart.

He wasn’t done though, and his anger hadn’t abandoned him.

Richter hadn’t been wriggling just to try and free himself; he had been trying to cast the one spell that could possibly help.  He knew that he would only have one chance.  He had to inflict as much damage as possible in the opening salvo, so he had been attempting to dual cast the only spell that he could aim in his position,
Sonic Wail I. 
Again and again the spell fizzled as he tried to complete the necessary hand motions.  His position made it difficult to coordinate the specific gestures, and the word of Power continually stuck in his throat. 

The impossibility of his task added to his panic, but this wasn’t the first time he had dealt with an implacable enemy.  The same rage he had felt when he had triggered a bomb in Sonirae’s face rose inside of him.  With fury making tears leak from his eyes, he started moving his hands in sync one last time.  His mouth opened, and he forced out the word of Power. “
SONEKKIRU!”

Rings of force rose up through his throat and left his mouth.  His teeth bared in a wide-mouth rictus, and his eyes tightened against the force he was expelling out into the cavern.  The pain in his jaw made him think that it was breaking under the force of the dual casting, but that was nothing compared to what was happening to the aberration. 

The invisible rings of force quickly widened as they left Richter’s mouth.  Though he couldn’t see the physical manifestation of the spell, he could see the effect on the monster.  The tentacle in front of his face bent back.  The force of Richter’s spell hit the black creature, and he saw the skin on the body ripple as it was buffeted by a quick succession of sonic waves.  The monster screamed and seemed to lose the ability to control itself.  The black mass of its body fell to the ground as the tentacles keeping it upright spasmed randomly. 

The inky limbs holding Richter upright flailed around as well.  The ones holding his arms and right leg released their grip.  The small mouths left bloody wounds as they detached in some places, but nothing major.  The tentacle on his left leg actually tightened and yanked Richter to the side.  He fell to the ground, one leg still bound, but he kept his face and his spell focused on the dark aberration.  A second later, even that tentacle released, and Richter was free. 

He kept his mouth pointed at the monster for a final second, enjoying seeing the mouths open in screams.  He couldn’t hear it, the
Sonic Wail I
having deafened him from being used in such a confined space, but Richter still took pleasure in the silent suffering.  Once his spell was done, the monster was able to regain some control over itself.  Some of the mouths opened and closed forming unheard words as its tentacles tried to lift its body off of the cavern floor. 

Richter raised his hands.  His fingers interwove, each five a mirror for the other, and he spat a word of Power.  Once again the orange lance of flame spread over the monster.  His leg was still bleeding and pained him terribly, but when Richter spoke, there was joy in his voice.  The aberration’s mouths were once again unified in screams. 

“I know you were probably trying to say something, but I can’t hear you!  When I was fucking you up with my sonic attack, I think it blew out my eardrums.  I want you to know, though, I do think you had a good point!  I do plan to fix the mistakes of those who came before me!  Namely that someone thought it was a good idea to make a schizoid rapist monster like you!”

Richter focused the flame on the base of the tentacles closest to him.  It let him hurt the body and burn off the aberration’s ability to attack.  It was able to launch an attack or two at him, but he would immediately turn his flamethrower on that tentacle and it would quickly slough off.  Soon, all of the tentacles on one side of its body were gone.  It continued to try and lift itself up with the tentacles on its body that remained, but Richter turned his flame to those as well.  When only a few remained in odd places, he finally stopped his Fire spell. 

As soon as he let up his fiery attack, he cast
Slow Heal I
and then
Grease I
.  Once the brown gravy colored film had settled over the monster, he cast
Flame I
again.  The oily residue left by the Earth spell fed the flames even after he stopped the spell.  As he watched the monster burn, Richter’s hearing returned like someone unclicked the “mute” button.  He could hear the screams filling the cavern again.

“No, stop hurting us!” the child’s voice wailed.

“We will kill you!” the dwarf’s voice threatened.

“Please, Master!  We can be nice!” the sultry voice begged.

Richter ignored them all.  Most of his balls of
Far Light I
had gone out during his recovery from the spell feedback and the subsequent attack.  He cast
Simple Light
, and the glow was enough for him to see his discarded elementum short sword.  He walked a few paces away from the monster and picked up the sword.  He knew the one-minute cooldown had elapsed, and so he cast
Sonic Wail I
for a second time.  Once again, the spell completely incapacitated the monster for three seconds.  Once again, the mute button got clicked, and all sound went away.  That didn’t bother him though.  Richter still had a bit of pep in his step while he walked around the aberration and systematically hacked off its remaining tentacles.  The fire went out after the
Grease
I
spell expended itself.  The aberration lay there, several of the mouths mewling piteously.  He cast
Slow Heal I
and happily listened to its suffering once his hearing returned again. 

Richter cast
Simple Light,
and a glowing ball rose above his head.  As he watched, the black mass quivered.  It clearly strained and somehow rolled over a bit.  Uncharred flesh presented itself, and a mouth that had escaped Richter’s assault spoke.  The voice spoke in the musical tones of the wood sprites and the language was sprite speak.

“Have mercy on us,” it wheezed.  “We are only what we were made to be.”  Other mouths continued to cry softly.

Richter extended his hand and spoke a word of Power. 
Soul Trap
settled onto the monster.  He leaned over and spoke with a still certainty. “You chose the right voice to plead for mercy.  That’s what I will give to the poor spirits who were sacrificed to make you.”  As Richter raised his sword, the monster’s eyes oriented on it.  As the green blade fell, every one of the monster’s remaining mouths screamed.

CHAPTER 6
 

Richter’s arm was tired by the time he was done.  He had hacked the aberration to pieces.  Then he had hacked the larger pieces into smaller pieces.  Then he had stomped on some of the smaller pieces for good measure.  Through the entire experience, voices pleaded for mercy.  Most he could ignore—the barking of a kobold voice, the squeaking of a goblin promising retribution—but the children’s voices tugged at his heart.  He had tried to localize where those were coming from and attack those spots first.  As his elementum sword swung down and mutilated the small mouths, he had to continually remind himself that he was actually ending the life of a monster. 

The process took longer than he would have thought necessary, and he had to renew his
Soul Trap
spell three more times.  Finally, the last piece of black flesh stopped moving, and a ribbon of rainbow light spiraled around him multiple times before disappearing into his Bag.  Richter sat down heavily, almost collapsing to the ground.  His throat was hoarse.  Sometime during his butchery of the aberration, he had started shouting… or screaming… or laughing, he really wasn’t sure.  All he knew was that he was drained. 

The wound on his leg pulsed with pain.  He was still bleeding slightly, but it wasn’t a significant problem.  He had hundreds of health left.  Richter made a quick check of his village mana pool and saw that he had used more than five hundred MPs during the fight.  His head throbbed from channeling so much magic, but he still cast
Slow Heal I
again.   

The wound on his thigh closed, as did the other bloody rents caused by the sharp tentacle teeth.  The bleeding finally stopped.  He drank some water, and by simply supplying this basic human need, he felt much refreshed.  He stood and then cast S
ummon Weak Life Wisp. 
A ball of golden light came into being and slowly orbit him in a two-foot radius.  The wisp would heal him if he suffered any more damage.  He hadn’t seen anything besides the aberration in the cavern system, but then again, he hadn’t seen the aberration until it had attacked him.  He hoped that the monster had killed anything else that might be in here, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.  He recast
Simple Light, Haste I, Barkskin I, Minor Life Armor I,
and
Minor Life Aura. 
Between his buffs, the wisp, and the
Simple Light,
he could easily see within ten feet of where he was standing.  Past that, though, was darkness.

Richter knew he needed to get out of there, but he wouldn’t be able to if he couldn’t see.  This interlocking series of small caves was confusing.  The main problem was that he couldn’t see the entirety of the cave system with the Light magic he had at his disposal.  The novice-level spells just weren’t strong enough.  He thought about it for a minute; then he realized the solution was literally at his fingertips. 

He accessed his city interface and pulled up the “Spells” section.  He immediately saw the
Summon Mist Worker
spell.  He had cast it plenty of times before.  Almost all of the other spells were greyed out.  He didn’t have access to them yet.  Richter knew that one more was available, though. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to cast it before.  Finally, he found it.

Mist Light.  Creates a ball of glowing mist.  It will affix to whatever surface it is pressed against or can be maintained in at a fixed point in midair.  The lights can be physically moved as needed.  The properties of your Place of Power will keep this spell going much longer than almost any other spell. The mist light will last for a full year, fueled by the ambient magic of the location.  This is a settlement spell.  Can only be cast within the domain of your village.  Cost: 50 mana.  Duration: 1 year.  Range: 500 feet.  Cast Time: 1 minute.  Cooldown: N/A.

Richter accessed the spell.  A cool and wet feeling built within him just like when he’d summoned the mist workers in the past.  A slow series of movements came to him unbidden, and he began speaking a language of magic that not even his Gift of Tongues ability could decipher.  A minute later, a basketball-sized grey globe shot from his hands towards the ceiling.  It rose fifteen feet and then affixed to the roof of the cavern. 

For the first time since being attacked, he could see clearly in all directions.  The first thing that he noticed was a large round boulder about thirty yards away.  It was resting on a depression in the floor.  Richter suddenly knew why he couldn’t find the exit before.  It also explained what the loud crash had been when he had first been attacked.  While he was flying through the air like a demented squirrel, the aberration must have rolled a boulder over the opening to prevent his escape. 

Richter walked up to the rock.  It was roughly rounded on the bottom to fit snuggly into the hole.  It was only about three feet high and four feet to either side, but that still meant it was more than a cubic meter.  The thing probably weighed two tons!  Even with his Strength of twenty-eight, there was no way he could dead lift two thousand kilos.  Maybe, just maybe, he could shift it, though. 

He took his Belt of Strength out of his Bag and put it on.  The Sustenance Belt took its place in the special folds of his Bag of Holding.  His muscles grew somewhat, and increased strength flowed through his body.  He walked around the rock, trying to figure out the best way to approach the problem.  The small boulder was only a couple feet from the wall, so Richter ultimately decided that he should just brace his back against the rock.  He put his feet on the wall, and checking to be sure he was in a good position, started pushing with his legs.  The rock dug into his back as he put more and more force into his push.  It was extremely uncomfortable, but finally, he felt the boulder start to shift.  Giving it all he had, he gave a mighty push and the rock rolled free of the hole. 

The problem was that the last shove with his legs overbalanced him, and he fell backwards and headfirst into the hole.

“Shiittt!” he said as he slowly toppled over.  The hole was only three feet deep, so he didn’t fall far, but it still hurt when he whacked his head on the ground.  The blow prompted a loud “Owwww!”  His exclamation stemmed more from irritation than pain.  When he heard the rock shifting again, however, he looked up quickly and saw that it was slowly tipping back towards the hole.  He hadn’t pushed it all the way into a stable position.  It was going to fall back into place.  He’d be crushed!

With no time to do anything else, he pushed himself up into a handstand and bent at the waist, so his body was in an “7” position.  Then with all of the force he could muster, he started kicking at the rock above him.  Each kick would rock the stone away from him, but it wasn’t enough to get it to fully tip over and leave him in safety.  So he just kept kicking.

“Move, you son of a bitch!  Take this boot!  Just fall over, bitch!  Gahhh!”

This was how Sion, Terrod, Caulder, Futen, Alma, and several of the guards found him.  Upside down, kicking like a drunk baby, and shouting obscenities up into a hole. 

It was later explained to Richter that the entire rescue party had come at a run.  Sion had heard the sound of Richter’s shout when the dark aberration had attacked, quickly followed by the heavy thud of the boulder sealing off the entrance to the caverns above.  He had tried to move the rock, but to no avail, so he ran to get help.  The guards had all come running when Sion relayed the danger he suspected Richter was in, but it had still taken time to run the miles between the village proper and the waterfall that hid the cave.  By the time they had returned, Richter had just freed himself and was now trying desperately not to be crushed. 

So as they walked up to the tunnel and peered in, they saw their lord, upside down, with arrows strewn about him that had fallen from his quiver, gyrating his hips as he kicked like a drunken baby and shouted at something above him.  Confusion and astonishment were the order of the day for the now unneeded rescue team.  Even Sion was rendered somewhat dumbstruck at the bizarre tableau.  So they watched Richter for a good little while before the sprite said, “What the hell are you doing?” 

Richter looked over while still kicking the rock and said, “Don’t ask me stupid questions!  Someone get over here and help me push this fucking rock over before it crushes me!”

Caulder ran up the incline, and after a bit of body manipulation managed to push his hands up between Richter’s legs.  Between the two of them, Richter and his new sergeant were able to push the boulder over into a stable position.  The Master of the Mist Village breathed a deep sigh of relief.  That was when he realized that he was now in perhaps an even more precarious position.  He swore everyone present to secrecy, but he learned a little-known fact that day.  When you’re in a handstand and another man is standing in front of you, at the very least, you’re going to get a whiff of balls or ass.