The investigator’s words had come true, and oh how Tom wished she had spilled the beans earlier. As it stood, he was confident that even baked beans and cabbage could not match the devastation unleashed by Jacky that night.
Tom honestly thought she had shit the bed when he woke up at god knows what in the morning. But no. She had simply turned into a fart producing machine of near unparalleled efficiency. It had gotten so bad he had actually had to leave the room for a breath of fresh air, only to hear the sound of a fart emanating from across the hallway as well.
“Oh uh… I might have fucked up here.” A cough or two could be heard from further down the hallway followed by some rather loud complaining. “Shieeeet.”
Fearing an angry mob, he had eventually taken refuge in the library and finally fallen asleep in the large reclining chair blissfully separated from the carnage that was unfolding. The following morning had been a disaster. The smell was unbearable, and it was too cold to air things out properly. Tom honestly feared a gas explosion might be imminent during breakfast, though he supposed they did save on the food because not many people had much of an appetite.
At least it was only those that had had more than a nibble that were affected, but it was still quite bad. And Jacky of course was hit worst of all. She had tried to play it off as funny to start with, but that very soon grew old. She had of course also panicked when she got up and worked out she was alone in her room.
She had at least found him quite quickly as he had already been up and about. It had taken some rather hurried running about asking people if they had seen him, and unfortunately her list of priorities for what to grab before commencing the search hadn’t included much save for her helmet and halberd. That had certainly amused some of the guards, most of all Balethon.
All in all she was not having a great morning, and it was Tom’s fault. He just didn’t really know what to do about it. And so they sat in near silence at the tables scarfing down breakfast.
“So… what do you-”
“If you mention fishing I am whipping you in the nuts again.”
“Right… maybe something else outdoors?” Tom tried in vain as Paulin walked up, looking smug as ever. ‘Oh for the love of god what now?’
“No, I believe you two at least are heading below. You on account of being needed, and her on account of being unwilling to leave you. Unless anything has changed in regards to that today?” the investigator questioned, clearly taking joy in what she was doing.
“No,” Jacky replied plainly, not looking up from her food.
“Very well. There is to be an attempt upon the vault doors. I take it you want to be present, no?”
“I ain’t saying no to that,” Tom replied as Jacky knocked her head against the table.
“You mean I have to go meet other people… today?” Jacky questioned, evidently dismayed.
“Academics and inquisitorial personnel no less,” Paulin specified, clearly finding it quite amusing. “At least it is not a first impression.”
“How lovely.”
Tom couldn’t do much save pat her on the back a little. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Plenty of air down there.”
“Oh yes, that’s what tunnels are famous for…”
_________________________________________________________________________________
“Have you two got the shits as well?” Yldril questioned as Fengi and Saph came down with some of the leftovers from the breakfast. Jarix had munched up a fair bit, but Fengi had managed to secure some for Yldril as well.
“No,” Sapphire lied. She too was rather regretting trusting Tom on this particular occasion. Fengi had it worse though.
“Shut up and have a bite, will you? Freshly baked,” Fengi said, holding up the sack.
“Fresh bread for me?” the dragon asked with sarcastic surprise. “What a luxury, did your appetites fail you or something?”
“Do you want the bread or not?” Fengi asked in a tired tone.
“I would love some bread, any meats?”
“No, you get bread. How’s the tent?” Fengi questioned, putting down said bread in its sack.
The dragon grumbled a little at not being humored. “Well I am not wet with dew, so that is nice,” she admitted begrudgingly.
“Very well. Also Glira is not gonna be around today; they are going… somewhere.”
“How interesting… more digging?”
“Yeah, more digging for us. See you again in a bit. I’m gonna go take another shit.” With that Fengi unceremoniously walked off, leaving Saph and the dragon to look after the normally rather cheery little dragonette.
“Someone had a shitty morning,” the dragon rumbled, amused as she skewered one of the loaves of bread with a claw, bringing it up to eat.
“Careful now, that one was almost funny,” Saph replied, not in much higher spirits herself. At least the air was clean out here.
“Why did you come down?”
“Cause there is air worth breathing and I would rather not be found right now.”
“Oh? They want you to go with Glira do they?”
“I don’t know, maybe? I would rather not find out.”
“Afraid of the dark are you?” the dragon asked, with the biggest shit eating grin on her face.
Saph wasn’t overly surprised the dragon knew what was going on today, and she didn’t care about who told her they were going below either, it was not her problem.
“Scared of the dark? Why? Do I seem scared of your big black behind?”
"Oh, you do flatter. Meee? Darkness? Reeally?" The dragon questioned, words dripping with sarcasm and evident enjoyment. “Why thank you, I always wanted to be seen as a dark day approaching.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Oh and here I thought we were getting along so well,” the dragon replied in a mockingly sad tone.
“I hate cramped spaces and I have yet to have a nice trip down there. I would rather dig.”
“Oh how fantastic. I can take a well deserved break then.”
“In your dreams. I’m gonna go take a shit too… Enjoy the tarp.”
“Oh I will. See you later, Sapphire.”
_________________________________________________________________________________
They all stood gathered in the atrium, staring at the two giant vault doors and the two gaping holes left by previous, less refined methods of entry. It was clear what the inquisitorial personnel had been up to though.
The two heavy, reinforced doors had both seemed identical when last Tom had paid them any mind. with their complicated locking mechanisms visible all along their edges and the large heavy set contraption in the center. Now though, the next door in line had been covered in new runes, with what Tom assumed to be wires criss-crossing between the strange spider-like inscriptions placed on its surface.
“They have been busy, haven’t they?” Tom opined towards the bookworm, Linkosta. She had come along as well of course, as had her father, just like they discussed. She was staring up at the massive door with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes.
“I don’t even know what half of that is,” the young mage exclaimed quietly, almost like she was afraid someone might hear her.
“Me neither… and I’m 90 years old,” Apuma joined in with a chuckle, as they both watched Paulin and the others mill about at the base of the door. Edita had also been brought along by Glira, with the blue dragon and Baron enjoying a brief chitchat in the entrance cave. When they were done here the two would be switching places, with Baron flying those back home that needed to get back to the keep.
Tom was not sure if maybe he would stay for a day. It would come down to what was within.
Would it just be more of the same? Maybe a mountain of gold? Precious metals? Tools and equipment? Who knew. Maybe this one would be full of strange people preserved in big glass cylinders. That would be quite something.
“Are we just waiting, or do we need to do something?” He asked, glancing around the cavernous room.
“Once they are ready they might need us for something, for now just watch. Look at all the work they have done, just to open a door.” Linkosta said in response not taking her eyes from work being performed. Her father let out another chuckle.
“We should get them to help Tom make something. They would have that project you talked about done in a jiffy.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“No, Edita is working on that. I think she will do a good job.” Linkosta countered. She had grown fond of the artificer, that much was evident, and the two worked well together. Perhaps it was the shared social awkwardness.
“Some more help from down here would be nice,” Tom added with a nod. He wouldn’t say no to a few extra hands, that was for certain.
“It has been quite the project, yes, but I am afraid you will still have to make do with Edita for the time being. There is another still to go, though Losev assures me it should now go much faster,” Paulin added, walking up behind them, of course likely having listened to the whole thing as she was wont to do.
“Spring then,” Tom replied with a shrug. “How long till they have that one open?”
“A matter of moments, Losev told me they have had to prevent the lock from noticing that no key is present, likely a necklace or ring of some description. we will move the mechanism directly instead. While of course tricking the safety functions into believing all is well. Luckily our dearly departed friends had already solved that problem for us.”
“So you spent all this time just on moving the locking pins essentially?”
“I can assure you it is no simple feat. They also had to replicate the work of the witch in addition to disabling the ancient and highly advanced security mechanism. Easier said than done, and hardly a task to be completed in haste.”
“We managed to do that by ourselves,” Lin added, sounding a touch sheepish to bring it up. The brief moment of confusion on Paulin’s face made it more than worth it in Tom’s books though.
“Right sure did, and it isn’t like the door was completely destroyed,” Tom mumbled in response as the head artificer turned back to them and waved.
“Merely mostly, I should never have waited till you blew those charges, such a shame” Paulin lamented. “And now the volunteers,” she carried on as if that was of no consequence, and with a wave of her hand a handful of the various academics moved over in front of the vault door. They all started taking off any clothes covering their chests and arms as they walked.
“Whoo woo woo, wooo volunteers?” Tom questioned, all of a sudden a bit more worried what the investigator was up to.
“Yes, the spell must be powered, and unlike the witch we do not have a dragon or night terror to work with for the purpose. Thus volunteers. Do not worry. If everything goes well no harm will come to them, though they might feel a touch tired afterwards.”
“And if it doesn’t go well?” Tom questioned still far from convinced.
“Then hopefully Losev will be able to halt the ritual before any damage is done.”
“Oh, she is the mage?” Linkosta interjected. Her demeanor was hard to pin down, somewhere between apprehensive and excited to Tom’s ears.
“Indeed. She is herself too important to risk though. Work such as this is her specialty.”
“How many times before has she done this to be considered a specialist?” Tom questioned rather warily as he watched the gaggle take up position, Losev and the other silver cloaked individual getting out pots of a blue paint like substance. This definitely didn’t sit right with him.
“Once… It is more than anyone else can claim. A malfunction that had to be sorted out at the temple of light. Why, would you prefer we had retained the prisoners for this purpose?”
“No… No other way I take it? Explosives worked just fine.”
“Without damaging the vault, or somehow acquiring the original key. Not that we know of no,” Paulin retorted rather pointedly.
“We could attempt what the witches did, and try to teleport a dragon down here? We do have a unicorn horn.”
“Have you ever performed such a spell?” The investigator questioned, turning her attention to Linkosta.
“Noo.” The mage had to admit, her father giving her a gentle, reassuring, pat on the shoulder.
“And neither has Losev, our only other mage present, save your father,” the investigator continued, turning to look at the elderly gentleman.
“Oh no no, I have never tried something like that… but perhaps one of my books-”
“Then we shall proceed,” Paulin cut him off. “This has already taken too long.”
Tom just released a pained, drawn out sigh, Linkosta giving him a worried glance. “I’m sure it is going to be fine, Tom.”
“Yeah yeah… Why don’t you put your own ass on the line Paulin? Rather than these volunteers,” Tom tried putting weight on the ending. He didn’t believe for a second they were actually volunteers; they weren’t even here by choice really. Not anymore at least.
“I am in command, as such I am required. Should Joelina return, I shall happily do so.”
‘Yeah right,’ Tom thought to himself, letting out a huff. He didn’t believe that for a second. Joelina would never endanger her precious chess piece either. And so he stood, not sure if he should do anything. He could probably stop all this, at least for a while, but that meant no vault. “What are the chances?”
“I haven’t a clue. I have been led to understand it worked a treat last time. I don’t see why it shouldn’t once more. Would you prefer everyone take part instead? That way it is perfectly fair even if Losev then has to juggle a good dozen additional sources.”
“Is he really going to try with all five at once?” Linkosta questioned cautiously as they watched the volunteers get marked up with runes painted in fresh blood.
“Yes, it should provide a sufficient reserve to allow him to terminate the spell before the source is killed. Unlike if he attempted with a single very unfortunate soul.”
“Damn shame we don’t know anyone who could teleport Jarix down here, are you sure we couldn’t find someone?” Apuma added with a huff and a shake of the head. Tom glanced to Linkosta, who was looking at her father, then glanced away towards the floor.
“It would seem not, loremaster, do not forget, there is a war on. Now let us begin,” she replied, stepping forward and nodding towards the artificer. Only Losev remained as Edita and the other one got well clear along with everyone else. Tom didn’t know why, but likely something to do with how the mage was apparently planning on using five dragonettes as living batteries. He wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of that either.
“Just let them do their job, Tom. I am sure they know what they are doing,” the kind voice of old Apuma came from his right. There was a hint of worry there, but what could they do really. They had to crack it open, and blowing it up was such a waste if there was another way.
“Yeah, yeah… better fucking work.”
“Better be fucking quick or I’m gonna need to find a corner,” Jacky complained, which soon had everyone’s noses wrinkling. “I’m sorry, not my damn fault.”
And so with the squeak of a reluctant fart the ritual seemingly began. The volunteers clasped hands as the artificer Losev placed one hand upon the nearest of their foreheads and the other at the center of a complex circular ring of inscriptions at the doors base. And much as Tom had seen before with magic rituals, the lines and letters began to glow a brilliant bright blue, the glow quickly spreading throughout the inscriptions all over the door and along the lines and runes painted upon the volunteers.
There was silence as the spell glowed, then a clunk was heard and the volunteers as one winced, Losev’s eyes starting to burn a bright green that almost blotted out the whites as gears were heard starting to click and whir.
“By the gods, I think it’s working,” Linkosta all but squeaked, watching in awe. Tom glanced to Paulin, who was watching with a smile growing on her face, and not the warm comforting kind. There was a touch of madness in it, or perhaps reverence.
The band of volunteers fell to their knees, seemingly not in pain but rather from the strain much like Tom had seen when they used their innate magic. With a hiss the seal was broken, air whistling through the edges of the vault door and kicking up dust and dirt. The door itself hardly moved though, the spider web of runes ceasing to glow like a lightswitch had been flicked.
“I suppose it worked, ey?” the old man called out, breaking the silence before Jacky could. Tom looked at the dazed bunch of volunteers now stumbling around while the artificer was inspecting the face of the door seemingly without a care in the world to spare for them.
‘Could have done it with one, yeah right.’
“It would appear so indeed,” Paulin added with a curt nod, clearly containing her excitement.
“Sweet, how do we open it now? Get a rope or something?” Jacky questioned, sounding far less thrilled and no less strained.
“Or something similar, yes,” the investigator replied, striding forth along with the two book worms.
Tom looked back to Jacky instead, she had a funny expression on and just shooed him forwards. “Right right, I’ll get some rope, go do some inspections or some shit,” she said dismissively before Tom actually got to say anything and then she was off, walking with a very funny gait.
Artificer Losev, with assistance from Edita and the others, had started to dismantle the network of wires, a fair few of which would have kept the door from swinging open. It was tedious work, slow and methodical. Tom had asked if he could help, being told simply, “No” in a cold plain voice by Losev. Edita looked at least a little apologetic as she carried on assisting with the work.
The volunteers were dragged off to the improvised camp which had been set up and fed some hot tea which seemed to liven them up a bit. Perhaps it was sweetened or something.
Ropes were brought up along with a relieved looking Jacky, and she set to work showing up the academics on how to tie knots in ropes as thick as Tom’s upper arms. Two lines were laid out in front of the door, the people not needed by the ritual slowly starting to take their places, getting ready to pull.
Losev and Edita took up position in front of the door, Edita with her fancy goggles on and some lenses lowered. Tom’s best guess being that she would be looking for anything bad happening as they started to pull.
When the pair of artificers gave the ready signal, ropes were taken up and with grunts of effort they were pulled tight. At first nothing happened, but after some words of encouragement and Jacky digging in her claws and putting in a mighty heave, the massive door finally yielded and with a groan it swung open on ancient yet freshly oiled hinges.
Edita and Losev watched intently, both nodding, indicating all was well as the door kept moving inch by inch.
Everyone was arching their necks to try and get a look at what was inside. Tom couldn’t actually see much on account of being a good head or two shorter than the girls in front of him, which was rather annoying but as the light slowly started to spill in he did catch a glimpse or two of something big.
Paulin commanded ‘stop’ and the hauling ceased, everyone putting down the ropes and shuffling to try and get a better look.
Last time it had been drawings and schematics, before that, capsules of grav oil, but when Tom managed to push himself to the front, he saw instead some large mechanical contraption. Or perhaps it was contraptions?
It seemed to be an amalgamation of tubes, wires, wood, and metal, with a large central tower standing at least 5 meters tall in the center with a large polished metal ball at its peak. Around it were strewn what looked like large barrels or cylinders with glass side panels facing the ceiling.
The base of the tower had what looked like connections of all sorts. Like something was missing, it looked as if the big cylinders might fit into it somehow. ‘Are those like cryopods or something? But it’s disassembled?’ Tom pondered to himself, briefly hopeful there might have been one of the ancient fish people, or whatever they were, inside. But the more he looked, the more the machine looked like a giant jigsaw puzzle.
“The hell is it?” Tom broke out, looking at the odd contraption, glancing to Paulin who looked just about as confused, her gaze turned to the artificer that had cracked open the doors. Both Losev and Edita stood staring up at the machine, silently and unmoving.
Paulin did take note of his question, though seemingly not able to answer as she walked up to the two artificers in her usual confident gait. “Yes, what is this?”
“It’s a Renderer, I think,” Edita replied absentmindedly, her gaze not leaving the presumably arcane machine.
“Oh…” was all Paulin could reply as the archivist seemingly recognized that word. Tom guessed she had likely never seen even a drawing of it, even if she had read of them. She too turned to stare at the machine, falling silent. Tom pondered what the hell they were so upset about.
Then the gears started to click for Tom. This place had been a mine before, a mine for dragon essence as the previous residents had called it. It was then turned into a military blacksite of some sorts where apparently experimentation and development had taken place, presumably after mining operations had stopped. ‘They still needed a source of the stuff…’
“A Render what?” Jacky called out, still confused, though the murmurs were growing amongst the crowd.
“I think it might be for rendering down… people, Jacky…”
“Oh… oh shit.”
__________________________________________________________________________________