Chapter 357: The Summoning |
“This is the wrong venue for negotiations,” I said, then gestured at the Timan general’s people. “You’ll find that I don’t respond well to attempts at intimidation, either. My ally here is in need of aid, I am pursued by avatars, and there are United crawling out of the walls. I’m going to keep moving through this Labyrinth, and any attempts to waylay me will be treated as overtly hostile.”
Ragad made a subtle gesture, and his goons began to spread out.
“I insist that we address the matter, King Xor’Drel.”
“You’re insisting on putting yourself in mortal danger,” I said. “None of us are safe here.”
The general waved a hand, the motion large and dramatic. “The dangers you mentioned are elsewhere. This place cannot be discovered without the flame’s agreement.”
“The flame? You mean the blue incarnation of evil that’s trapped us in some kind of pocket dimension of doom?”
“A strange description of the creature, but yes. Nevertheless, no avatar will reach us here. No United will discover us.” He stroked his upper lip like he was grooming a moustache. “Besides, we can deal with a few of the Davahn brutes if needs be.”
“We’ve already run into one Grade 30,” I said. “How many of those can you handle?”
The general glanced at the other Timan in his group and some silent communication went between them. “Regardless of their power, my point stands. They will never reach us, and we will be gone before their strength matters.”
“I am very aware of the crimes of the United,” the general said, scowling. “Which is why Timagrin must have the resources to fight them. I won’t throw away lives on a premature assault, and while I believe you think their purpose here to be important, I have no reason to think as such. To state things bluntly, you will not leave my presence until I have seen that the MIST procedure is performed on a number of Timagrin’s heroes.”
I gave Grotto a mental nudge and the little octo took Etja from my shoulder. He placed her on the ground, then hovered over her with his shields.
“You do realize that procedure requires the subject to be inside Closetland, right?”
“I do.”
“Are you planning to follow me around like a whiny puppy until you get your way?” I asked. “Because I’m not sure I understand your threat.”
General Ragad sighed and rubbed his upper lip some more. “Don’t be stupid, King Xor’Drel. Neither you nor I will enter Closetland. You will tell your people to perform the procedure on those I send. Once they return to me and I am satisfied, you will be released.”
“So it’s a kidnapping situation. I’ll be a political hostage.”
“Call it what you will,” he said.
“You’re willing to make an enemy of my entire faction over this?”
“You are the reason I have been forced to use such measures, and there will be few if any reprisals. Our allies understand that we are taking action because of your personal greed.”
“Is that the line the Heronwytes have fed you? Because I know for a fact the king of Hiward won’t see it that way. Neither will the Zenithars of Eschendur or the Empress of Litta. You’re actively sabotaging my support of the latter as we speak.”
“Your ears turn my words to waste, King Xor’Drel. You are an upstart who has made an impression, but your life is hardly worth the longstanding relationships Timagrin has with the many nations of this continent.”
I decided to try another angle, since this guy didn’t seem to care about the diplomatic nightmare he was about to create for himself. “The amount of mana the MIST procedure takes requires us to halt the expansion of Closetland for several days each time we perform it,” I said. “The price I’m charging is a simple doubling of the base mana investment, which accounts for labor, expertise, opportunity cost, and a host of other factors. It also serves as an incentive for the rest of the world to get off their asses and figure out how to do it for themselves. I gave out the full technical specifications for free. Even the most brain dead economist will tell you I’m not on the winning side of this deal, even at full price.”
Leon Heronwyte snorted and decided to butt in. “The economics are irrelevant. You are ignoring the realities of your situation, Arlo.”
“I didn’t realize we were on a first name basis, Leon.”
“We’ve all studied your build,” he continued. “You’re focused on empowering your party, which isn’t here. Even your parlor tricks with portals and teleports won’t work, we’ve made sure of it.”
“Cerulean did say something about the Heronwyte Matriarch,” I replied, before looking back at the general. “Did you realize your friend over there put you on a collision course with an elder dragon? She won’t be happy about being used as a tool.”
“I am aware of the measures that have been taken to orchestrate this environment,” said Ragad. “The Heronwytes have their dealings with the dragon ruler. It isn’t something that concerns me. What does concern me is that you will not try to escape into your little kingdom for fear that she will emerge and slaughter your party members with her indiscretion.”
“We’re not exactly inside the forest anymore.”
“Our terms with the flame provide for Cerulean’s release into the wider Labyrinth should you be so foolish as to allow her through a portal.”
“I see. So my options, according to you, are to go quietly or get gangbanged into submission?”
“You’re isolated,” said Leon, “cut off from both your party and your kingdom. You’re confined within this realm, so you cannot teleport away. Yes, you are certainly more powerful than your level suggests, but you are outnumbered ten to one, and General Oladl is one of the most skilled Gold Delvers on the planet.”
I looked around at the group and considered Leon’s position. A full party of Level 16s was nothing to sneeze at, but they’d have a hard time getting through my defenses. If it were just them, I’d have no problems. The four Delvers at Level 20 were more of a concern, and while I liked my odds against any two or possibly three of them, all four at once created a lot of room for nasty surprises. Nobody got to that level by being careless. Who knew what kind of gear and consumables they’d be willing to pull out if their lives were under serious threat? Regardless, if it were just them, I still had a chance, just not one I’d want to take.
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Now, a fight I definitely wouldn’t take was the full party of Level 16s and the four Level 20s together. The sheer number of debuffs and attacks coming my way would overwhelm my mitigation and cooldowns. Eventually I’d get Stunned, Paralyzed, Stupefied, or hit with some other debuff that let everyone else pile on. Throwing in the Level 26 Ragad Oladl was complete overkill, assuming he was as good as Leon was claiming. The little asshole had me dead to rights. This was a group that, by myself, I had no chance of beating.
“That confidence you’re all feeling,” I said, “is misplaced.”
Leon scoffed and the general gave me a pitying look. While they were busy being total dicks, I reached for a skill I hadn’t used in more than a year.
With a flex of my will, I activated Dimensional Summon.
Then I smiled through clenched teeth when nothing happened. I tried to use the skill again, but the feedback told me it was active. The mana reserve had taken effect, but no obvious portal had opened up to unleash tentacular terrors upon my foes. I adjusted my feather boa and stayed calm.
“Did you just try to do something?” asked Ragad. “Cast a spell?”
“Nope.”
“I feel like you did.”
“You’re obviously mistaken,” I said, then took a step back from the man. I blinked a few times as the shadows between the conifers started growing darker. None of Ragad’s people seemed to have noticed, as fixated as they were on me.
Ragad cast a Dispel on me, which was pretty rude. It had no impact, of course, since Dimensional Summon created a portal to summon and dismiss my target. He couldn’t Dispel it anymore than he could Dispel my teleports.
The shadows became tendrils, twisting through the trees on the other side of the clearing.
“This is your last chance to let me get on with my life, unmolested,” I said. “Kidnapping a foreign head of state is an act of war, and ridding this Labyrinth of the United is too important an objective for me to forego. If you attempt using force to keep me here, I won’t hold back. There will be no prisoners, and you will all be subject to the Returning Villain rule.” I pointed toward Dickwad in the back. “That goes double for you, Leon.”
The Heronwyte scoffed. “Consider me terrified,” he said mockingly. “You know what your problem is, Xor’Drel?”
“Uh, does this mean we’re not on a first name basis anymore?”
“You’ve never taken any of this seriously, you fop!”
I let my mood cool as the darkness at the man's back reached out, practically touching him. “I’m taking you seriously now, Leon.”
“Good! Now maybe some of this will penetrate your primordial skull. You parade about with your jester’s clothes and dullard’s wit, spreading chaos that the rest of the world has to clean up. No one was consulted when you unleashed the phase transition on us, and I cannot fathom what good you thought publishing your absurdly named X-files to the entire world would do, so filled as they are with lies and speculation! Your gross irresponsibility has impacted countless lives, and it has Timagrin teetering on the edge of–”
“Silence!” barked Ragad. He turned to level a quelling glare at the Heronwyte. Then the Timan general froze. A couple of his Level 20 goons turned around to see what had grabbed their leader’s attention, and both of them immediately went into high alert. “Lord Heronwyte,” said Ragad, all of his anger lost, “where is the rest of your party?”
“What do you–?” Leon began, turning to look at his team just behind him.
All four of them were gone.
Leon gasped and stumbled back from the darkness creeping out from the treeline. He pulled out his dual shortswords and took up a stance. The Level 20s were casting buffs. Ragad floated up off the ground, his body turning translucent as he made himself incorporeal. There was a beat of stillness while everyone waited for the general’s orders, but the Timan wasn’t the one to speak.
“Slayer…” A deep voice echoed between the trees, all around us, purring like a lion as it spoke. “I am pleased to hear your call again, after so long.”
Ragad’s people couldn’t seem to agree on where the voice was coming from, and the area lit up as they deployed their skills in all directions. The ground began to glow, a wave of force from a mace shattered a slew of trees, a hundred arrows flew off into the gloom, and a horde of dark shapes fluttered out from the Deijinon’s tattered cowl, swooping off to find their prey. The general simply eyed the shadows, which continued to fill the air despite the foliage being annihilated.
Something fell from above. Ragad slid easily to one side, avoiding whatever it was. It hit the ground with a wet slap soon after. I looked down, realizing it was a severed hand.
There was another splat as a foot landed nearby, stripped of its boot, then another thunk announcing a disembodied spine. It bounced and came to rest across one of the Grimvaldrim’s massive boots. The giant barely noticed, more concerned with keeping watch than acknowledging that it was raining body parts. Leon Heronwyte’s party had been reduced to no less than a hundred pieces.
The hooded Deijinon swore in losonbinora, pulling an orb from her inventory and shattering it on the ground. The dirt sank to form a pool of liquid light, and the glow pushed back against the dark. The exposed sky above was empty, but the light revealed something standing just inside what remained of the treeline nearest Leon, watching us with black, oblong eyes.
Below the familiar eyes, tentacles spilled out from its cephalopod head, most of them covered in downy, black and green feathers. They swayed in the air as though it were water. Some of the tentacles didn’t match, however, looking like they belonged to something–or someone–else entirely.
Beneath and behind the feelers was its humanoid body, with limbs that were too long, its hands and feet with too many joints, the digits spreading out into the air like bony serpents. Its musculature was impossibly lean, lacking any trace of fat to hide the striations and pulsing veins beneath its boreal skin.
Its eight-foot frame hung in the air, defying gravity with such casual grace that it made the spectral Ragad look like a baby learning to swim.
Shog’tuatha: Hidden Delver, Level 6
“Wh-what?” stuttered Leon. “How is that a Delver?” He stood up a bit straighter, exposing a terminal case of stupidity as he pointed a sword at Shog’s chest. “It’s only Level 6!”
“Don’t be a fool,” Ragad hissed. “It is obviously hiding its true strength.”
Shog’s feelers ebbed back and forth, the hypnotic movement ending with an armory of bladed weapons emerging from the mass of tentacles. There was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes before the information in his identification changed, casting the jagged crown atop his head in a new light.
Shog’tuatha: C’thon Brood King, Grade 27
“By the gods,” Leon whispered, retreating from Shog as he floated out into the clearing. The Heronwyte let out a low, whining moan as Shog’s black eyes locked onto him. “Tw-twenty-seven,” he whispered. “That’s not… It isn’t possible.”
“You said his summon had been eliminated,” General Ragad growled.
“Nobody’s seen it in more than a year.” Leon continued to whisper, still walking backwards as Shog floated forwards at the same pace. “It was either dead or dismissed. We suspected he’d replaced it with a different skill.” Leon rushed through his excuses like he was pleading with the universe to make them true. “I don’t understand how it could have gotten so much stronger when he never even uses it!”
Shog moved, every bit as fast as the United I’d fought and could barely follow. General Oladl and his Deijinon mercenary kept up, but the other three Level 20s had to spend a precious instant figuring out where the hulking creature had gone.
He was in the sky overhead. Leon was wrapped in Shog’s feelers, disarmed of his blades, a sabre and a rapier through his chest. The c’thon held a great sword to his neck and had another angled towards the base of his spine. Blood ran down the Hiwardian’s body as the man coughed, wet and harsh. Shog’s blades had gone through at least one lung, but he’d avoided the heart.
The c’thon looked down at the rest of us, surveying Ragad and his mercs, suddenly much lonelier than they’d been moments before. They all watched him in turn, creating a protective formation around the general.
Shog made a thoughtful rumble, then looked back to Leon, bringing the man closer to his dark eyes.
“It seems they don’t care if you die.”
“Wait,” Leon gurgled. “My father’s… the Thundralke… he…”
Shog turned and locked eyes with me as Leon began to beg. The c’thon had heard me tell these people that we weren’t taking any prisoners. All it took was a look to confirm that I’d been serious, and he cut Leon to pieces without hesitation. It was so quick and forceful that the air was filled with another bloody rain of gore.
The chaff was taken care of. Now, the real fight began.