Stealthcaster Read online

  Queen Soracia was seated within this place with him, her own back pressed against a rock wall, her face bathed in a scant orange light. As his vision cleared, Solomon could see the mounted torches scattered throughout this cave, a few of them lit with a throbbing orange flame, illuminating the room. It wasn’t so much a room as it was a cavern, and a relatively large one at that, though there wasn’t a roof necessarily, just tall, arching walls crawling up high above them, thrusting stalagmites jutting out like hard, sharp fangs from the walls. Up above them, the sky was a dull purple with approaching evening, though Solomon couldn’t tell exactly how long they’d been out. It had been nearly morning when they were battling with the Sharak-Ku in the meadow, had they really been out all day long? Longer?

  Within the outcroppings of rock all around him, he could hear the low skitter of footfalls from some sort of unseen lizards or insects, and gooseflesh threatened to run up and down every inch of skin underneath his robes and armor.

  “We still live,” Solomon said quietly, not really a question, but a point of curious fact.

  Soracia nodded.

  “For now.”

  “I admit, I’m surprised,” Solomon said. “I figured they’d kill us and be done with it.”

  “I suspect they have some ulterior motives, young one.” She gestured over her own shoulder and he followed the direction of her head. Not too far away there appeared to be a huge, gaping hole within the floor of the stone, a wide circular crevice of some kind, leading down deep into the world’s crust. He didn’t want to think what sort of things lurked within.

  “So… they’re going to feed us to same nefarious Sharak-Ku cave monster?”

  Soracia shrugged. “I’m not sure, but they have their reasons for everything.”

  Solomon watched her as she spoke.

  “You seem like you have quite the history with these creatures.”

  Soracia chuckled softly, nodding her head.

  “Legends say the Sharak-Ku were humans once. Cult followers of an ancient race who voluntarily mixed their blood with humans in an attempt to gain power. Some of those legends even say the male soldiers who were refused entry into the Amazons may have started those experiments.”

  “Ah,” Solomon replied, not sure what else to say.

  “So do you feel partially responsible?”

  “For the first Sharak-Ku? No, not at all. But in the years since… the two generations since— the Amazons lived in relative peace on our island in the south seas. I suspect that there are those of us who knew, or were at least partially aware that our male outcasts had become these things. But we were safe, we had our home, we weren’t concerned. As nasty as the Sharak-Ku were, they would not cross the ocean to come to us.”

  “Instead, you ended up coming to them.”

  “Exactly. Not by our choosing, but that doesn’t really matter when it comes right down to it.”

  Solomon nodded. “You said they were male outcasts. Are there no female Sharak-Ku?” He tried to think back and remember if he’d seen any females along the way, in his two separate conflicts with the snake creatures.

  “Oh there are certainly females,” Soracia replied. “While the human cultists started as Amazon outcasts, they recruited others. Males are definitely the dominant species, but there are plenty of female Sharak-Ku as well. Rumors say the leader of this clan is a female.”

  “Those rumors are correct, Soracia,” a voice said. This voice was quiet, but hard, tinged by a long ‘s’ sound like a snake’s hiss. Her lithe figure was framed by firelight as she approached, striding along the narrow path into the cavern. A robe bound around her waist fluttered at her feet, her top half covered by a sleek combination of leather and metal mail. When she drew closer, her face was lit by the torches and Solomon could see her. She actually mostly resembled a normal human, with clear human features, only her skin was a pale gray/green, and her eyes were yellow gleams, with twin vertical pupils staring back at him. Her head was mostly bald save for a thin clutch dark hair pulled into a long ponytail, draped over her left shoulder and winding down over her hip on the same side. In the firelight, Sol could see more of her skin on her arms and her legs, and all of it was the same strange gray and green mix, some of it smattered with tiny scales.

  At her right hip there was a narrow, leather sheath and he could see the hilt of some sword sticking out, but instead of a traditional pummel it a sculpted snake with a cobra-like head at the end of the handle, carved in ornate brass which nearly glowed in the backsplash of torch fire.

  She smiled at him, and her somewhat normal mouth was full of sharpened fangs.

  “My name is Fralesh, young one. From what I hear, you fought well in the meadow. Especially for a lower level human.”

  Solomon held her gaze, not wanting to back down though he was somewhat put off by her backwards compliment.

  “I can hold my own,” he said.

  “Well,” she replied, shrugging, gesturing at the caverns around them, “apparently not quite well enough.”

  Behind her, the hallway was still backlit by a strange flickering light source, unseen, somewhere in the distance, and the shadows of three more figures emerged. Two of them were large, broad-shouldered, and hoods flaring, Solomon immediately recognized them as the ones who had been bringing Soracia over the grasslands. The third figure was another smaller silhouette, someone who Solomon did not recognize, though as she became lit by more torches, he found his eyes lingering on her robes and shoulder pauldrons. Something about her was strangely familiar. He’d seen it before. As she emerged into the light, he could see that she was not quite as human formed as Fralesh, she had clearly more serpentine features, as did the two guards. Not like the abominations he’d run into earlier, and not like this other woman— somewhere in between.

  “I assume there’s a reason we still live?” Solomon asked.

  “Everything we do, we do for a reason,” Fralesh replied, linking her fingers together. Solomon looked at her, focusing his Deeper Insight on each of the figures standing before him.

  Fralesh

  Sharak-Ku Clan Leader

  Level: 10

  HP: 920/920

  MP: 265/265

  Skills:

  Deadly Backstab

  Praklegh

  Sharak-Ku Elder Sorceress

  Level: 10

  HP: 780/780

  MP: 945/945

  Skills:

  Magic Projectile

  Levitation

  Furious Wind

  Greybard

  Sharak-Ku Master of Arms

  Level: 10

  HP: 1130/1130

  MP: 175/175

  Skills:

  Graceful thrust

  Bull’s Eye Targeting

  Oden

  Sharak-Ku Captain of the Guard

  Level: 10

  HP: 1335/1335

  MP: 440/440

  Skills:

  Edged Combat

  Blunt Force Trauma

  Oh, boy. If this was indicative of the type of enemies they’d be facing throughout this war, they may have already been outmatched before they even started. Considering they were already tied up and in a cave, yeah, Solomon was pretty sure they were outmatched.

  “So what is your reason for this?” Soracia asked from where she sat. Shadows moved in the darkness and Solomon looked over, seeing both Ella and Megyn stirring slightly.

  Fralesh kept her narrow fingers laced together and took a step forward, coming closer to the Amazon queen.

  “You know we were content, right? We had the Devil’s Mouth Caverns, we had the eastern peninsula, and we were happy. All of the resources we needed to live for generations lay at our fingertips. The hunting was good, the climate was right. Our clan would have been more than happy to live the rest of its generational existence in quiet contentment.”

  “So what happened?” Solomon asked.

  “She happened,” hissed Fralesh, pointing at Soracia. “They happened. The Amazons.”


  “Their island got flooded,” Solomon said, shaking his head. “They were forced inland. What choice did they have?”

  “I can speak for myself, young one,” Soracia said gently, but harshly.

  “Neither one of you shall speak unless I permit it!” Fralesh shouted, slamming her foot down hard on the rocky, cavern floor. The echoing stomp thundered throughout the open darkness, and both of them let their voices drift into silence. The Sharak-Ku clan leader looked hard at Solomon, her yellow eyes unwavering. “It matters not why they were forced inland, the ultimate result is they infiltrated our forest. Broke ground on our peninsula. Set up their dirty little village on our land. All we wanted to do was forget our history with the Amazons, to retreat into peace, and everywhere we go, there they are. After enough time, it became too much. My clan was rising up, angry that we were allowing the group that turned so many of them away to exist in peace within our trees.”

  “We are happy to exist in peace—” Soracia started. Fralesh lunged forward, her movement a swift, gray streak, and suddenly a curved dagger was in her hand, lashing out, arcing out in front of her. The blade bit into the side of Soracia’s cheek, snapping her head around and sending her crashing to the ground, hitting shoulder first. She drew in a breath, but did not cry out.

  “I did not give you permission to speak.” Fralesh said. “The next knife strike will carve out your tongue.”

  The Sharak-Ku called Oden laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver up Solomon’s spine, sounding more like a foot grinding a bag of broken glass than an actual humorous noise.

  “The Naga does not care if she has a tongue,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I say we cut it out anyway.” Stepping into the torch light, Solomon got a good look at Oden, the thick, serpentine warrior standing a good head taller than his clan leader. His skin was a shimmering black, rough scales adorning his massive arms which ended in hands of four, thick fingers. He wore wrap around armor over his torso, but it was cut free at the shoulders, revealing his scale covered limbs, which looked layered in enough hard skin to be natural armor anyway. His head was angular, much more snake like than his leader’s, and after speaking, a narrow tongue slid out and flickered wildly. On his back he wore a large claymore with a thick, long handle, and an ornate, sharp-edged shield was strapped to his left arm, leaving both hands free to wield the weapon.

  Fralesh turned back to him, her eyes narrow.

  “Don’t worry about what the Naga cares for,” she replied.

  “The Naga?” Solomon asked, then quickly snapped his lips shut, not wanting his own tongue to be cut from his mouth. He wondered for a moment how that would work… if someone healed him would his tongue grow back? The thought made him queasy, and his stomach lurched gently.

  “Yet another benefit of our residence in these caves,” Fralesh replied, seemingly undisturbed by him speaking. “Plenty of underground tunnels for the Naga. Our spirit animal and our guide, the Naga are ancient serpents. Our ancestors, the ones who began the Sharak-Ku dynasty used the Naga’s blood to become what we are. Now, generations later, the Naga have continued to live, eternal reptiles of Devil’s Mouth, and they have grown very, very large and very, very hungry.”

  Solomon looked over to Soracia who was starting to push herself upright.

  “Tonight we decimated the Amazon village,” Fralesh continued. “Set it ablaze and stole their queen. Once we feed this woman to our Naga, he will have a taste of Amazon blood and will go with us willingly back to Thorathon where we can wipe the Amazon virus from our forest permanently.”

  “Feed? To the— to the Naga?” Solomon asked, his voice choking. Again, his imagination ran wild, the thought of being slowly consumed by a serpent, stomach acids eating away at his body until he was at zero HP, being flung back to respawn. Sure, technically he could come back from the dead, but if the process of dying was something like that, did returning from it really matter? Even getting the barbed tail of G’Lorath in the chest had been traumatic, he couldn’t even imagine trying to recover from stomach acid chewing away at him and fangs puncturing his skin as his last few moments. What kind of game was this again?

  “Oh yes, little boy,” the other woman spoke for the first time and stepped closer to him. Once again his eyes went to her armor decor and flowing rust-colored robes, noting something familiar there. “We will feed you to the Naga. All of you.” She turned and looked at Megyn and Ella who had brought themselves upright, then looked past them. “Even your dirty wolf.”

  “What did we do to you?” Solomon asked innocently, honestly not sure where such anger and venom might have generated from. The woman sorceress, Praklegh whirled on him, eyes dancing in the torch light.

  “What did you do?” she hissed, and for a moment, blood red energy brimmed within her closed fist.

  “Rulaaz,” Solomon said before he could stop himself, the color of the magic the last piece he needed to fit into place.

  Fralesh stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Praklegh’s shoulder. The sorceress looked at her leader and drew a deep breath, releasing the tension in her scale-covered fist, settling her shoulders.

  “Indeed,” Fralesh said. “Rulaaz was her pupil. And her spawn. And you killed him.”

  “Uh, he started it,” Solomon replied, unsure of what else to say, and already regretting even saying that.

  Fralesh laughed, shaking her head.

  “True, Rulaaz was rash and impulsive. He acted well before we would have chosen, trying to take matters into his own hands. His plan was sound, his execution, however—” she glanced at Praklegh who showed no sign of offense.

  “We didn’t want to kill him,” Solomon replied. “But we couldn’t let him bring the forest into darkness. I doubt even you would have wanted to live in whatever world he was leaving behind.”

  Praklegh snarled and snapped out her palm, firing a swift burst of red power. It struck Solomon in the chest with a bright, burning heat and he shouted, falling back onto the rough stone ground.

  “Praklegh!” Fralesh hissed, swinging herself between the sorceress and Solomon. “Restrain yourself.”

  “My apologies,” Praklegh whispered, lowering the crown of her head slightly as a show of respect. Solomon groaned as he pushed himself back upright, though clearly the magic blast had been mostly a sign of intimidation and not an attempt to harm. He’d only lost around a dozen hit points, though he hadn’t been full to begin with, so his health meter currently hovered at less than half. The green tinge of a healthy bar had paled to a yellow. Not quite to red, not yet, but it would be there soon if he didn’t do something.

  That’s when he remembered his pouch, the Fanny Pack of Holding, which had been a source of derision among his friends, but he could still feel it pressed tight against his lower back. He’d been stripped of his weapons, but the pouch was intact, and he remembered that some of the herbs and plants he’d gathered by the ponds edge were still inside. Sitting there on the hard ground, looking up at the four Sharak-Ku, he didn’t make any movements, but he filed it away in his mind for later.

  Suddenly, just beneath him, he felt the low rumble of ground moving, almost like a low level quake. He couldn’t call it an earthquake, not here… was it— a Shyftquake?

  He shook his head, trying to focus. Something was moving below him, either the ground itself or something underneath the ground, and several yards away his eyes landed on the circular pit hewed into the stone surface, a large, round hole so deep that the low whistle of subterranean winds emanated from within its darkened crevasse.

  For a brief, frightening moment, he thought he saw the bulbous shadow of something moving over by the hole in the ground, the shifting muscle of a being, rise just above the surface, then fall back down.

  “The Naga is restless,” said Fralesh, smiling a wicked, tooth-filled smile. “And hungry.”

  Muffled shouts and screams came from Solomon’s left and he looked over to see another pair of Sharak-Ku minions emerging from the s
hadows, scooping up Megyn and Ella, half carrying, half dragging them over to where Sol and Soracia were currently sitting.

  “On your feet, welp!” barked Oden and stomped forward, wrapping tight fingers painfully around Solomon’s bicep, forcing him to his feet. Greybard slipped his claymore from the sheath on his back, holding it firmly in a single massive hand and sneered as they were all gathered together.

  “Tonight, the snake feeds… then tomorrow, we take over the forest.”

  Chapter 35 - The Evil Within

  * * *

  Feet scraped on rock as the five of them were forced along, stumbling toward the edge of the gaping pit carved deep into the stone ground. Solomon didn’t fight, he knew it was useless, though Megyn was thrashing wildly, trying to rip her arms free of the Sharak-Ku guards. Oden growled and strode toward her, lifting his knee and kicking her hard in the back, throwing her forward onto the rocks, where she hit with a muffled grunt.

  The snake men clasped their hands around her elbows and dragged her to her feet as Tyson growled angrily, tugging hard on the chains that bound him to the rock he was tethered to. Growls shifted to angry snarls and chomping, echoing barks of rage as he saw Megyn being hoisted and shoved forward, her knees weak and legs wobbly. She’d taken some serious hits during the battle and had not consumed any potions or restored any health since, which had already left her low. Solomon noticed for the first time that several tall posts had been erected along the left ridge of the pit, wooden shafts dug deep into the stone ground, standing straight and tall like the ancient telephone poles he used to read about in history books.

  Already Ella was being shoved against one of them, her arms pulled roughly behind her, twisting her shoulders painfully as her wrists were clasped and some sort of rope was wrapped hard around her lower arms, tugging her tight to the post.

  “Hey, take it easy with them!” Solomon shouted, moving in that direction, his eyes scanning from Megyn to Ella, but the only result it got him was a hard backwards shove, his own spine slamming into the wooden post, his shoulders burning as his arms were pulled tight, wrists bound by leather strapping behind the rigid pole. He groaned and tried to move back to relax the pressures on his muscles, looking up into the sky which stared back down at him, a scattering of dull stars spreading out among the canvas of evening. The pit itself was encircled by a vast horde of Sharak-Ku soldiers, countless leather-skinned and scale covered operatives, toting all manner of different weapons, all looking at them or at the pit, as if waiting for some grand theatrical performance to begin.