Stealthcaster Read online

  Beside him Soracia was mandhandled in much the same way and after only a few moments, all four of them were strapped down to the tall, wooden poles, arms twisted painfully around behind them, the poles several meters apart, all astride the gaping mouth of the darkened pit digging down into the depths.

  The low winds blew up from inside, and along the winds was the faint smell of ofal, something rank and wet, something that went beyond rotten. There was death inside of the pit, and by the stink of things, lots of death. A low tremble shook the ground again as the mysterious creature moved beneath their feet, a persistent slide of muscle and skin brushing up against the bottom of the ground they stood upon. Shifting shadows moved within the pit itself, the clear progression of movement, of muscle and sinew slithering.

  Solomon had some idea what this nefarious Naga was, the Sharak-Ku had more or less told him so, and he had no desire to see the true realities of it. Living in the over-industrialized world that he had, his experience with wildlife had been few and far between, and dropping into the world of Shyft, teeming with strange creatures, had been difficult enough. But the idea that what was moving beneath them might be some huge, lumbering serpent, a giant snake large enough to shift the very structure of the ground they stood upon, that scant notion drove gooseflesh all up and down his body and quickened his heart to a swift pace that made his chest ache.

  Fralesh glared at him, the ornate curved dagger still clutched in her narrow fingers.

  “The time has almost come,” she whispered, glaring at them all one at a time. “The time for the Naga to get its taste of blood and to thirst for more.”

  “I gave at the office,” quipped Solomon, meeting the clan leader’s gaze, and she held it firm and hard.

  “Ah,” she said simply. “So you find this funny.”

  Solomon shook his head, suddenly regretting his humorless joke. His response to stressful situations had always been to fall back on his trusty sense of humor, but somehow that solution felt different when faced with consumption by a giant serpent.

  “No,” he said quietly. “No, I don’t.”

  “That’s good,” hissed Praklegh, walking up behind Fralesh. “Then you understand the gravity of this situation.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “A pity that your comprehension will do little to absolve the realities of what is about to happen,” Fralesh said. “Understanding does not equal mercy.” She stepped to Soracia and lifted her curved knife, turning it over in her hand, eyeing the gleam of the moon’s reflection from the polished metal. In the low light of dusk, Solomon got a good look at it now, the gentle arch of the blade, the angular hilt and contoured pummel, it was as if the entire weapon had been poured out of a single sculpt, one angle moving to the next, an almost organic shape, save for the jagged, pointed end of the thing which looked far too deadly to be born of nature.

  “This blade,” she whispered, “is a mystical artifact called the Scales of Justice. Crafted by our ancestors it is imbued with the mystical powers of the Naga’s own bloodline. When the blade touches flesh, the blood that spills from it will provide sustenance to the Naga and with help from Praklegh, we will bind it to our will. After the beast has consumed your flesh, it will do whatever we ask of it, and what we ask of it will be to travel down the Devil’s Mouth Caverns and ravage the forest. Thorathon will crumble into dust, and Gallowind will burn in the fires of generations of our ancestors!” She pressed the blade against Soracia’s throat, the flesh puckering at the knife’s sharpened edge. Solomon’s throat tensed, his arms straining against his binds.

  “Don’t do it,” he said softly, pulling, wrenching on the ropes, trying to inch closer. Solomon’s mind raced as he watched her pressing the blade to Soracia’s throat. He remembered the battle in the meadow, desperately trying to call upon the power of the StealthCaster, only to have it fail him when he needed it most. He still wasn’t sure why, he could feel the power inside of him still, he knew it was right there at his fingertips, but something had prevented him from using it against the Sharak-Ku guardians. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind within and felt the light prickle of power at his fingertips. They were hot and tingling, but he didn’t dare try, not when the blade was pressed so tight against the Amazon’s throat.

  Fralesh looked curiously at him.

  “What could you possibly say to convince me not to do this?” she asked him. “You know nothing of our history. Of the unending conflict this entire world has been through. You’re a mere visitor. A traveler from elsewhere just poking your rotten little flesh nose in where it does not belong. We don’t take kindly to your kind around here, human,” she said this final word with a sharp spit, as if the word itself tasted sour and she wanted to be rid of it.

  “If the Naga is as powerful as you claim, do you really think you can control it?” Solomon asked. “Do you really think it will listen to you? Or will it crush you all on its way to conquer the rest of Gallowind?”

  “I suppose there is only one way to find out,” Fralesh replied. She looked over at Praklegh. “Sorceress,” she continued, “cast your spell.”

  The Sharak-Ku sorceress lifted her hands, a pale pink light already glowing. The blade dug deeper, the entire silver knife throbbing in the same pale light as Praklegh’s fingers. Blood formed where it met the skin and slowly she pressed the edge of the blade harder to Soracia’s flesh.

  Chapter 36 - So Begins the Great War

  * * *

  Solomon strained, lunging forward, tugging at his binds, but the held fast, pinning him back against the wooden post, preventing him from moving. Fralesh mouth split into a sinister grin as she pressed the blade tighter, a crimson trickle spilling from split flesh, coursing over the glowing, pink blade.

  Not far in the distance, a warbling echo sounded, a clear and distinct noise that drew Solomon’s attention. His head whipped to the right, as did Soracia’s, their eyes following the direction of the sound.

  It almost sounded like— a horn. A war horn.

  Its tone dipped low, then surged, a long, loud blast of triumphant sound, the daring signal of oncoming attack, the shout of combat, ringing along the jagged ridges of the Devil’s Mouth caverns.

  “The Amazon War Horn!” Soracia shouted triumphantly. Horse hooves thundered in the darkness, from somewhere in the approaching night, voices screaming a shrill, bloodthirsty cry of battle. Solomon strained to see, looking out past the rock outcroppings, out over the ledge to the trees not far away. He could see them there, scores of small fires, spreading out in a wide, vast row at the edge of the forest, lining up in preparation for battle.

  “Amazons!” he heard a voice cry, a raucous bellow, a voice he immediately recognized as Esmelda’s. His heart leaped at the sound of it. “ATTACK!”

  The rapid fire twing of snapped bow strings exploded along the eastern ridge of the treeline, and the scattering of small flames suddenly leaped forward, not torches at all, but lit arrows, soaring high into the evening sky, arching low, then plummeting down, racing toward the vast army of Sharak-Ku ringing the massive pit. Arrows shifted into orange-hued streaks, screaming through the air, dropping among the snake warriors, knocking several of them down, sending others scattering while still more ducked and lifted shields, knocking the projectiles aside.

  “They’re here!” shouted Soracia victoriously. “My Amazons are—”

  Fralesh snarled and raked the blade across her throat, slicing open her skin and sending a gout of red blood flinging up into the gaping pit. Praklegh’s fingers twitched and the blood glowed a strange pink hue as it sprayed into the darkness, the Amazon Queen slumping forward, held upright only by her bound arms behind her.

  “No!” Solomon screamed, knowing that no matter how hard and loud he shouted, Soracia had already been sacrificed. Noise was all around them, the splitting cry of the war horns, the angry snarling and screaming of the Sharak-Ku, it was a deafening cacophony as Oden withdrew his blade and strode toward Solomon, preparing his sacrifice to
follow the queen’s.

  But Solomon had other ideas. As the noise drowned out nearly everything else around him, he knew what had gone wrong in the meadow the night before, he suddenly knew just how his StealthCaster powers worked and what had to happen. Immediately tapping into the surrounding sound and noise he willed his magic, he funneled his MP down deep inside himself, and suddenly, the world around went silent. The noise and din swirled into an invisible vortex, tunneling down inside of him, the soundwaves’ echo converted to pure, raw power and consumed by his body, it barrelled into him, pummeled him, and he could feel the energy pounding hard upon him, threatening to rip him apart. Oden whirled around, his mouth working, talking, but no sound coming out, the area immediately around Solomon becoming a sudden, eeiry silence as he harnessed its power and converted it into something else.

  Without the amplification crystal to funnel the power into, it raged like a storm inside of him, battering him, threatening to tear his muscle from his bones like rent fiber, pressing out from his insides, splitting his head, weakening his knees. Drawing upon every ounce of willpower, he held it there for a moment, kept it contained just long enough, tapping into his MP and using it as leverage to balance out the sonic waves, whirling it together into a tight ball of potent energy, a white-hot comet of pure sonic fire.

  Oden stomped closer, lifting his blade.

  Solomon opened his mouth, screamed a silent scream, and unleashed the full power of Sonic Shockwave.

  Invisible waves of impact burst out in all directions, completely uncontrolled and undirected, an outward explosion of kinetic energy. Oden took the brunt of it, slamming him in the chest and knocking him back, acting more like a ram than a blade without the crystal to harness it. He flew backwards, end over end, toppling and spilling down into the dark pit below, vanishing from view. Behind Solomon, the post he was tied to splintered and snapped like so many toothpicks, wooden shrapnel screaming outward, the straps tying his hands nearly disintegrating underneath the raw barrage of pure power. Dust, dirt and loose rocks fired out in all directions, a small circular crater forming underneath him as he held in mid-air for a brief moment, the energy keeping him temporarily aloft.

  Then just as quickly as it came, it left. The power dissipated, Solomon dropped to his knees on the hard rock, barely catching himself with his hands, and immediately the deafening noise of surrounding wartime activity rushed back into reality.

  “What was that?” screamed Fralesh, turning on him, eyes narrowed and infuriated. Behind her, Praklegh rose into the air, arms outstretched, preparing for her own form of twisted combat.

  “Don’t worry about them!” shouted Greybard. “The Amazons are attacking from the west! We must gather our forces, meet them head on! Drive them back and destroy them!” A low, throttling hiss echoed from the pit, a deep and angry growl of serpentine rage.

  Fralesh smiled as she looked upon the wide and empty hole, the tunnel into pure darkness.

  “Ahhh, yes. The Naga. He will finish what we started!” Fralesh dashed off as Greybard turned away to follow her, while Solomon stumbled to his feet and charged over to Soracia, falling to his knees to check her injury. He was already fishing through the pouch at the small of his back but as he came to her, he knew it was far too late for that. Her tunic and pants were soaked through, the dark river of blood running over the stone at her feet and over the uneven ridge of the dark pit.

  “Soracia!” he shouted, putting his hands to her cheeks. “Please! Soracia!”

  There was no response, her head only rolling loosely on the severed flesh of her neck. He lowered his own head, drawing in deep, calming breaths, trying to settle his hammering heart, but he knew there was no time for that. The echoing shouts and jeers of surrounding snake warriors were a stark reminder that he was officially in the middle of a war zone and could not afford to hover over the corpse of the Amazon Queen. Throwing himself to his feet he darted left, running toward Megyn, stopping for a moment to sweep Oden’s fallen claymore from the stone at his feet.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as he approached the post and Megyn nodded softly as he cut the binds at her wrists with the sharp edge of the two-handed sword.

  “Weapons? Where are our weapons?” she asked breathlessly as she dropped to a crouch, her eyes darting as more flaming arrows dropped around the pit, most of them streaking past targets, a few plunging into scaly flesh.

  “I don’t know!” Sol shouted, running again, this time heading to Ella and repeating the motion with the rope connecting her hands together. She dropped free, rubbing her wrists and he removed some of the healing salve from his pouch.

  “Chew this!” he said. “It’ll restore your HP!” Turning to Megyn, he offered her the same. “Take it now! Quick!” She nodded and plucked him from his hands, stuffing it in her mouth as she ran along the edge of the pit, heading toward Tyson. The wolf growled and whined, tugging on the thick chain he was leashed with, pulling as hard as he could. The dull, persistent hiss coming from the pit grew louder and clearer, but Solomon tried to push it aside as he ran over to the wolf, hefting the claymore, his eyes affixed to the thick links of chain holding the beast to the ground.

  “Stand back!” Solomon shouted, gripping the sword with two hands, then bringing it up and around and down, slamming the edge of the blade into the links of the chain.

  “What is that?” Megyn asked, turning toward the pit. “I couldn’t hear what that queen bitch was saying—”

  “I don’t think you want to know,” Solomon replied, pulling the sword up and striking again, his arms tensing as the chains bit back, weakening, but not breaking.

  “There’s something in there, isn’t there?” Ella asked, glancing at the darkened pit. The hiss was growing louder and more pronounced, a wet rattle of noise echoing in the darkness. Several snake corpses littered the stone around the crevice, most of them embedded with softly smoldering arrows, but most of them had separated and departed, charging into the mouth of battle. Even from this far away, they could start to hear the soft metal clanging of weapons in the distance.

  As if on cue, a shadow morphed within the mouth of the pit again, shifting slightly, rising up, lifting high, extending up into the darkening evening. The sky was still just bright enough to reveal its sinister shape, though Solomon had almost wished it weren’t.

  The Naga pulled up high, mouth wide, and it was just as Solomon feared. He’d seen far more snakes than he’d ever cared to see during his short time in Shyft, and still the creature who loomed before them could barely be classified as a ‘snake’. It was monstrous, a huge, angular head the size of a small car perched above the muscular, sleek, serpentine body, plump and thick, wet and glistening in the reflection of the moonlight above. Twin green eyes glared out of its narrow, sloped skull, its mouth peeling wide, revealing rows of jagged white fangs. It’s skin was a green base with brown spotted patterns scattered throughout it, its belly a series of fleshy panels, running up and down its mammoth body. Its length could barely be described by common human measurements, long, wide, and huge and it glared down at them, soft hissing escaping its lipless mouth.

  “Oh no,” Megyn said softly. “Oh God no.”

  “I—” Ella started to say, taking an uncertain step back. “Is that—”

  “What are we even doing here?” Megyn asked. “How do we reset this stupid game? How do we get out of here? Go back home! I’m done playing, Solomon!”

  The Naga lunged forward, the hiss spitting into a snarling growl, as it plunged its head forward, mouth prying wide open, searching for food.

  Desperately, Solomon lifted the sword one more time and sent it slamming down. This time the sharpened metal cleaved the links of the chain in two, punching them free and sending the metal scattering across the rock, breaking the leash and letting Tyson wrench himself free. The wolf charged, the broken links of the chain dragging noisily behind him and he leaped, jaws open, meeting the Naga halfway, teeth burying themselves into the wet, leather ski
n of the snake, bursting through, shooting green blood high in the air as the wolf collided with it, momentum pushing it sideways and slamming down hard on the rock.

  Tyson whined softly with the impact, rolling forward, hitting the ground and tumbling, the Naga already pulling itself up off the rocks. Ella was in motion almost immediately, as if moving by pure instinct, not wanting to stop and consider what the outcome might be. Cupping her hands together, she gathered her mana and shot it forward, funneling a quarter of her total MP into a single piercing Ice Dagger. Blue energy coalesced in the air into a spear of solid ice and launched forward, slamming hard into the Naga’s right side.

  It whirled, hissing angrily and Solomon finally got a good look at the vicious creature.

  Naga

  Ancient Serpent Demon of Devil’s Mouth

  Level: Unknown

  HP: 1156/1355

  MP: 445/445

  Skills

  Unholy Devour

  Crushing Squeeze

  “This one is a biggie!” Solomon shouted. “Almost 1400 HP! We need to hit it hard and hit it often!”

  “Kinda tough to do that without our weapons!” Megyn shouted, whipping her head around in search of something she could use. Ella was already tossing an Acid Arrow at the serpent, a smaller, weaker rendition, just so she could get it flying, and it splashed underneath the reptiles jaw with a soft sizzle, though the Naga barely seemed to notice, continuing to surge forward, tongue flicking. Ella scrambled right tucking into a roll as the large serpent slammed its head down, crashing into the stone with a shattering boom. Solomon moved, throwing himself forward into a dead swift run, then launching himself toward the snake. Clasping the claymore in two hands, he activated Axe Blow, hoping that it would have the same effect with a sword as it did with an axe, and he could feel the power flood into his hands, the handle of the broadsword growing hot as he brought it up and around.