Chapter Eighteen: Down With The Tihc-ness

Randall was red in the face and furious as he picked himself up off of the dirt floor. Zuglah hadn’t hit him hard at all; he suspected that the man simply fell to end the fight. After all, Zuglah was as much taller than Randall, as Randall was taller than Pliesson.

Still, Randall looked surprised when Zuglah offered him back his Mana Pot, but he took it. After a brief hesitation, he nodded thanks.

Zuglah had dug out a few replacement Pots, along with the Heal for the one he had given Denton. He subtly replaced the quick draw slots in his potion sling so that he was at full strength. He also fished out the extra ring he had found, and gave it to Pliesson. “Oh! Uh, thanks Zuglah. For the ring, too.”

Once he was out of earshot, Zuglah said, “Hey Redda Mo?”

In a loud, obnoxious voice, the runestaff replied, “Yes, Oh Mighty Blue Fist of Justice? How may I serve your Justice-ness, Oh Mighty Blue Fist?”

“First off, please stop that. Second, do you have that spell ready?”

“Of course I do,” Redda Mo said in a normal voice.

“Good. Right before he starts casting, I want you to hit Pliesson with it.”

“Yes, Your Knuckliness.” He considered stuffing the staff back into his Bag of Holding.

The Dwarf and his gaggle of students had left by way of portal, back to the observation ledge. Denton led them back across the bridge, where they continued down the floating platform. The next doorway they saw was immense, with a keystone arch for a door frame and carved letters in what looked like a Bea Tihc language.

“Okay. Down these stairs are the Bea Tihc. They’re tougher than the Kobolds, plus there are more of them. Also, beware of the archers. They must be our first priority. Zuglah, Randall. Are you both okay with taking the left and right again? Pliesson, I want you to watch Warwick and occupy any Bashers or Lungers that try to take him out. He’s going to be a big target so long as those archers are active. We can’t move against the Priest nor Shaman until they are all down. When they are, both of you Wizards focus on the Priest until he’s out, then hit the Shaman. Leave the Bashers and Larrio to me.” Zuglah very much admired the grim fatality in Denton’s voice. He sounded implacable, as though the fight were a foregone conclusion. Zuglah resolved to prove him right. His words had that effect.

“Hey Zuglah?” He turned to see Pliesson offering him a kerchief with something bloody inside.

“Oh, thank you, Pliesson. But I’m not hungry right now. You go ahead.” He tried to turn back, but the Driole plucked his sleeve.

“No. I looted these, but I want you to have them. They bloom where the blood falls. It takes about five minutes, so you have to search after the short rest, not before.”

Zuglah Identified the lopsided, blood-soaked flowers; Iron Blossom, reagent, Primary effect: stone’s throw. Secondary effect: ???.

“Wow, these are great, Pliesson. If we make it past the next battle, let’s look together, okay?” Pliesson looked very happy at the thought. Zuglah could not wait to find out what Stone’s Throw was.

The pair followed the rest of their party down the stone staircase that seemed to be leading them underground, despite originating from a floating strip of rock that was already deep within a cavern of some kind. The door at the bottom was wooden, but fit for the front of a castle or a city gate. It took all of them to lift the huge wooden beam that lay across the door frame as a crude lock. Even unlocked, the door moved ponderously slow.

When they entered the room, Zuglah laughed. There must be some mistake. There were around twenty people waiting for them, all of them wearing armor and carrying steel weapons.

The Bea Tihc were a primitive tribe of Humans, mostly forest hunters and planeswalkers. But these men and women were wearing chain armor and wielding crossbows. The Priest had a huge, two-handed maul resting on the stone in front of him. The Shaman’s Curse Totem staff was redolent in charms and buffs, and Zuglah could see several curses strewn among the other ribbons. He could make out The Jackals even from this distance, and he shuddered.

In the middle, dominating everything, was Larrio. He stood at least nine feet tall, a drooling, ferocious Bugbear with ferrous-yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes that screamed for murder. His torso had been shaved down enough to wrap a double-wide barrel around him and call it a breastplate. He was holding a huge two-handed glaive as his weapon, and in the other hand he held a thick, oak dining table by one leg as a shield. His wolf-like head was unhelmed. Leave Larrio to him? What the heck was Denton planning for that monster?

To the Bugbear’s left and right were three Bashers and one Lunger per side. The Bashers had two handed, iron-studded clubs and the Lungers each had, incongruously Zuglah thought, rapiers.

He saw what Denton meant about the archers. There were two stone balconies overlooking the room, each holding five men with heavy crossbows. The men were wearing chainmail and had iron helmets. It was too much. How were they supposed to deal with all of this?

He remembered Denton’s instructions. His job was to take out those five crossbows so he could somehow attack the two big support guys. They both looked tough as well.

Once again Denton strode fearlessly into the center of the room. He stood before Larrio with his shield up and his sword undrawn. Larrio swung the table down, overhand style, and smashed it against the floor where Denton had been standing an instant before. Has the fight somehow started? Zuglah felt like he was already behind.

Denton had thrown himself forward in a diving shoulder roll, coming up, sword in hand, well inside the Bugbear’s guard. His broadsword sliced a neat little bleeder into the beast’s thigh that had it roaring in agony. A second later, his wound was glowing with a golden light, and he was standing on the leg again easily. Not fair! That move deserved to be rewarded.

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Redda Mo startled him so badly that he nearly dropped him. He screamed “AGGRESSION!” Everyone in the place turned to look, as Pliesson took on a soft purple-blue hue.

“What in the Seven Holy Hells was that?”

“That’s how I cast spells. Why, how do you do it?”

Over beside Randall, Pliesson had been casting an Illusion of some kind, he assumed. But he was fussing about in his pouch instead. He withdrew a small figurine and put it to his lips. He whispered something.

A large, heavy-shouldered gorilla materialized in front of the Bashers, roaring. The three men went pale and fled. The gorilla gave chase.

At the same time, Randall strode forward and stacked his hands one atop the other, pinkie of the top one touching the thumb of the lower. The Wizard’s symbol for Lightning. A jagged, white-hot bolt hummed as it materialized in front of Randall. It was impossibly long, connecting his hand instantly to the first crossbowman. The bolt then jumped to the second, third, fourth and fifth man in rapid succession. When the first man raised his crossbow unsteadily, Randall fired a stream of Dancing Mana at the man that Zuglah at first thought was overkill. The first bullet detonated upon impact, and that was enough to eliminate him. Then, the entire stream of bullets changed direction and streaked for the second man. When he dropped, the third man became the target, the fourth and fifth dropped the same way.

“How did you do that?” Zuglah asked.

Randall turned to grin at him. “Did you see that, Zuglah Glun?”

Zuglah started shouting at him to run. Warwick was shouting as well. What Randall had failed to notice in his excitement was that the Bugbear had broken off his frustrating fight with Denton and was striding directly for him. He turned just in time to be skewered like a cut of steak on the end of Larrio’s glaive. Zuglah saw an orange-red ribbon floating in the air near Randall, and had a sinking feeling he knew what it was.

Warwick was shouting to Randall to hold on, that he was going to help him. Zuglah knew that it was beyond that now.

Larrio flicked his glaive towards the ribbon just as it touched the ground. Three huge phantom jackals were waiting as Randall slid off of the blade and arced through the air. They snapped him up and tore him apart. Zuglah hadn’t even moved yet.

He decided it was past time he acted. He could not match Randall’s feat, not with the lightning nor the trick with the Dancing Mana. He decided to stick with what he knew. He drew his knife and summoned The Ice Knife, sending it flying at the first three archers closest to him. They came and went so fast when cast with a dagger that Zuglah barely had time to aim before the next was away.

At nearly the same instant, all three of the archers turned their shoulders with unnatural speed. Not one of his Ice Knives hit, all three exploding harmlessly against the wall behind them. They practically ignored him, training their crossbows on the Fighter and Priest. Zuglah unleashed a barrage of Dancing Mana, six bullets strong, all aimed at the first archer. Dancing Mana did not miss.

All six bullets struck him, staggering him. Zuglah already had The Ice Knife streaking through the air, and this time it nailed him. As he glowed white with hoarfrost, he also held a deeper, golden glow that warmed him from within. Zuglah turned to see the Priest smiling in self satisfaction.

The Bashers beside him had been busy with the Gorilla, but soon he faded from the battlefield. Zuglah was startled to see the Lunger transform into a tall, blue-skinned and blue haired Troll. The Bashers were startled too, but soon rallied and did what they did best. They Bashed. Watching the zeal with which they attacked his doppelganger kinda hurt Zuglah’s feelings a little.

He decided that the Priest had to go. Waving Briarthorn towards the balcony, he summoned the Wall of Thorns right on top of them. There was nowhere to go, they couldn’t even jump clear. Although they could still shoot, the thorns were toxic and every scratch delivered a sedative designed to lull them into a fatal slumber. Their shots all went awry. They began struggling frantically with the vines.

Zuglah was staring directly at the Priest, who was staring right back. He pointed his knife at the man, furious. The deeply tanned planeswalker smiled, and settled the huge maul on his shoulder. The invitation was clear, even if most of his trap had been nullified.

Zuglah sent the man a stream of Dancing Mana, and then he blinked.

The mana bullets struck the Priest, but he was too busy spinning around in a circle looking for Zuglah. The faint clap from his spell did not help either, just told him that Zuglah was somehow very close. The Dancing Mana buffeted him repeatedly, and he lost his brilliant aura. So did the Bugbear. Others started looking about as well. Zuglah had not reappeared.

To be clear, he actually had. He had blinked directly between the Priest and the Shaman, but at the same time as he landed, he had used Veiled Shadows. It was an extremely tricky feat to pull off, because if he was a hair too soon the blink would instantly nullify the Shadows and he would reappear. If he was even an instant too late, then there would be a telltale flicker to indicate that he had indeed arrived and was currently up to no good.

But the timing to actually blink away and appear to simply stay gone, was fine, to say the least. It made the precision of Shocking Touch seem sloppy in comparison. The timing was so utterly strict that he had finally come up with the idea of making them both into one spell. The Veiling was simply the final act in the sequence now. And it worked.

He only had a moment to contemplate the rugged Priest. Zuglah knew that he had to go all in. Nothing less was going to help against him.

He was vaguely aware of Pliesson, off in the corner facing the rest of the Bashers, who were angry about having been duped into killing their own friends. The Driole summoned a wall of flames in front of himself that flared briefly then subsided. The Bashers thought that the flames dying down would be their opportunity, so they rushed in only to find the flames had revealed a Wall of Stone. They were stuck sliding into the base of the wall, no hope of avoiding it as the large mason’s stones tumbled down upon them with sickening crunching noises instead of screams.

He turned back to the Priest and stabbed him right in the side of his head with The Ice Knife, then he mana dumped into Blazing Inferno. The Priest’s entire head experienced what could only be described as catastrophic failure at that point, and he died in hideous fashion.

Zuglah didn’t even get to use all his mana. The Priest perished, and he relented on the Inferno. He stopped on his own, but if he had not the crossbow quarrel that caught him right under his elbow, certainly would have convinced him. Another bolt blossomed in his chest. He looked down, wondering idly where it might have come from. He didn’t realize that the first bolt had spun him around, and he was now facing the opposite direction. His vision dimmed, his hearing faded out. He felt the floor caress his cheek, cool and soft against his flesh.