A loud click alerted the young wizard.
Alex looked over his shoulder.
Slots slid open in gaps between every stone in the chamber; floor, walls and even ceiling. Gleaming falchion blades emerged, slicing at the unprepared Ravener-spawn, his mount, and the holy warriors.
The blades began slowly spinning, picking up speed, blurring in their slots, the falchion blades cutting everything near them. Terrified cries and red spray rose through the air.
Holy warriors were cut down from below, falling on the blades.
The Ravener-spawn’s mount howled as its legs turned to a red slurry, while the Hunter leapt up, briefly landing on its back.
The humanoid monster’s muscles tensed, preparing to spring away.
With a single twitch, the messenger launched through the air as the mount collapsed; the Hunter’s needle-like claws extended, mouth snarling, baring fangs dripping venom below eyes that burned with hatred. In one leap, the messenger cleared a wide distance, sailing into the portal and landing in the room that Alex was in.
“At last I have you, Usurper!” The creature rushed forward, its claws scraping the stone. Its form was a blur, closing on him in heartbeats.
Alex vanished, teleporting into a portal leading to another room.
The Ravener’s messenger sprang after him, moving along on all fours.
Another click greeted it.
Something whooshed from above.
The creature froze in place, looking up, then shrieked.
“No!”
Dozens of stone slabs—weighing tons—were dropping from the ceiling, falling straight toward it.
“No, no, no!” the monster tried to flee to another portal.
A boulder cracked against the floor with an ear-shattering bang, missing it by inches. It soared away from another slab that landed by its heels, stone chips peppering its back.
The Hunter neared the portal’s opening, as plunging stones shook the room all around. It reached out for its salvation.
A wet crunch answered instead.
Blood-curdling screams echoed through the chamber as it whipped its head around. Looming behind it and pinning itsright leg to the ground, teetered a carriage-sized stone. The Ravener-spawn howled and clawed at the ground, trying to get free.
“Must…not fail…Usurper is…”
It had no chance to finish that sentence; a shadow tumbled closer.
It looked up.
A stone slab dropped squarely on its head.
Its last words died. The Ravener’s Hunter was smashed to paste.
Alex smiled. “Didn't expect to see one of them here, nice bonus.”
“No!” an armoured priest cried.
In the room of spinning falchion blades, the trap had taken a terrible toll.
A few members of the hidden church who’d tried to follow the messenger had survived, but only because they’d reached the middle of the floor, avoiding the spinning blades. The rest had been sliced to ribbons, or cut to bits by the blades coming from the floor.
Ten had immediately died in that room, though others still lived, but were barely alive, stuck, caught by blades jammed into their armour.
The First Apostle nearly wept when he saw what had happened to his people in that room, but he had to compose himself; calling on his divine energies, he flew into the blade chamber, touching neither floor nor walls, retrieving and healing the few who’d survived.
He whisked them back to their ranks, calling out an incantation, pointing his sword at the chamber and channelling waves of force energy that washed over all remaining spinning blades, shattering them and clearing a path through the room.
“Stay close to me!” he commanded his followers. “I will protect you, and we will prevail!”
With unshaken fervour, about half of them followed.
Looking behind, he shouted instructions to the Third Apostle, “Protect our faithful, Izas! Take back what belongs to Uldar!”
“Yes, holy leader!” Izas said, leading the rest away.
“You’ve got some nasty tricks there, quarry!” The Stalker shouted. “But you'll have to do better than that to get rid of us!”
Alex whispered under his breath, watching them through the nearby portal, where they could clearly see him. “You're assuming that we're already giving you our best, but that’s a bad assumption; besides, you're splitting up, which is exactly what we wanted. And that’s going to cost you.”
The General of Thameland’s face creased with worry, faking an expression of fear, he kept fleeing; leading the hidden church toward their graveyard.
“Bjorgrund, Birger, give them hell,” he whispered.
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“This is more fun than it has any right to be,” the old firbolg watched the sanctum’s invaders through his small portal-windows. “Too bad the rocks only got one of you, but we can make up for that.”
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He watched the group chasing Alex, and those swarming after his son.
“We can definitely make up for that.”
He pressed two buttons at once.
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Bjorgrund leapt through the portal as a sharp click sounded its warning in the room behind him.
A dozen trap doors hidden in floor tiles yawned open, revealing deep pits lined with slashing blades. Half a dozen holy warriors immediately plunged straight down into the holes, while another six stumbled, falling in moments later.
Screams were quickly cut off.
“Hold still!” the Third Apostle shouted.”I will—”
Two dozen waiting aervespertillos—summoned by Alex earlier—swarmed through the room’s other portal, their screeching voices stunning the enemy. A cluster of celestial taraneas—rubbing their spider-like legs together—crowded around the other portal, shooting lines of webbing at the intruders.
The ends of the sticky webbing caught stunned holy warriors, and the creatures worked together, dragging them into the pits.
Izas shouted a spell, raising his hands and raking both the bat-like creatures and the celestial taraneas with sheets of lightning enhanced by holy power.
He cast another spell, waving his hand over his followers.
“Holy Uldar, allow this magic to affect all of your children around me!” he prayed.
The combination of spells and divinity empowered the holy warriors around him.
As one, the warriors began rising through the air.
“Get him!” Izas commanded, pointing at the giant.
Several aimed crossbows and bows, shooting bolts and arrows at Björgrund, who turned, leading them to where he wanted them to be.
The projectiles cracked off his divine breastplate—eliciting cries of rage from his pursuers—as he charged through another portal, all the while considering which traps to lead them to.
‘They’re flying now, so none of the floor traps’ll work… Oh, I know!’ he thought, leading them like sheep. ‘Get them, father.’
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Another click sounded.
The room behind Alex began rapidly filling with poisonous gas.
“Oh no, you don't!” the Guide shouted, holding up his hands, gathering the gas in a sphere above the pursuing church members. His face brightened as he pointed at the portal, giving Alex a nasty smile. “Get him!” he cried.
Gas streamed through the portal, drifting toward the young wizard.
Alex responded, raising his staff, conjuring more small air elementals—to blow the gas—sending it back through the portal toward the hidden church members.
“Uldar protect me!” a holy warrior cried as the gas touched him, seeping through his visor. He began coughing blood. Only the Stalker, waving the gas away with a quick hand and the First Apostle—sending a wave of healing magic over the stricken man—saved him.
Uttering words of power and a divine prayer, the First Apostle conjured Orbs of Air around the heads of his dwindling forces, then levelled his sword at Alex. “Strike him down!”
He launched a beam of light through the portal, so quick it was nearly on the General of Thameland before he could blink. Had he been as he once was before he’d found Kelda’s sanctum, the powerful energy would have burned through his torso, ending him instantly.
But things had changed.
His reflexes—honed from training with Bjorgrund—responded.
He teleported away from the beam, it cracked the wall behind him, opening a gaping hole in it. Stone dust and rock fragments spilled onto the floor. Alex met the First Apostle’s gaze with disdain, then wiped the debris from his shoulders.
“Try harder,” he said, in the most infuriating tone he could manage, then turned and continued to flee.
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“This is not working,” the First Apostle growled. “He is moving too fast: were I to race ahead on my own, I would leave all of our followers to die by his traps.”
“Not to mention, maybe falling into one yourself,” the Stalker muttered, eyeing the walls.
“No,” the First Apostle said. “A simple trap would not defeat me; he looked at his followers. “I cannot say the same for Uldar’s other children: they lack my experience, and were never trained in how to deal with fiendish traps!”
“Not many are, even I don't have that much experience with such things,” The Stalker said, his voice tinged with excitement. “What an exciting hunt this i—oop!”
Fire elementals burst into the room.
“He sends more of his tiresome summoned monsters at us!” one of the church members snarled. “They can never defeat us!”
“Down, you fools!” the Stalker shouted. His moose collapsed on the ground, shielding its master with its neck.
A fire elemental spat a gout of flame toward the gas.
The First Apostle raised his shield. “Uldar, protect us!”
A light-barrier spread from his raised shield.
Flame met gas.
With a whump, it erupted.
The blast slammed through the ranks of the hidden church, the force knocking warriors down as though they were blades of wet grass. Neither Alex Roth, nor the fire elementals wasted a moment; the burning spirits leapt upon the fallen warriors, bathing them with flame, heating armour and driving fire through gaps in their plate and chain.
With a wave of his staff, the General of Thameland conjured more air elementals, sending them back through the portal to attack. The spirits fed wind to fire, sending it climbing higher and blazing brighter.
“Begone!” The First Apostle shouted, his heels digging into the stone. “Uldar let your light lash them!”
Radiance coated his blade, extending from it like a whip, which he cracked through the air. The lash of light cut through elementals, banishing them to their home planes with every stroke.
The Stalker’s mount stood, its master laughing on its back. “That's the way! That's the way a hunt should be: that's what I expected from you, my quarry!”
“Cease your laughter!” the First Apostle shouted. He watched grimly as his fellow church members tended the fallen: some could be saved, but others were well past that, burnt to death in their armour. “We are taking great losses, how can you find humour in that? The children of Uldar die, while our enemy toys with us!”
“Doesn't feel good to be made into sport, does it?” Alex called through the portal, his eyes blazing. “It's no fun when you're the quarry, is it? It's not much fun when your companions are butchered, is it? Is it satisfying? Watching your friends die at the hands of your enemies? I can tell you it sure wasn’t satisfying for me when Carey died.”
“It was her choice!” the First Apostle fired back, healing his brethren as best he could. “She chose to die!”
“And who pushed her there?” Alex snarled. “Who captured her and kept her prisoner, caged up like some animal? Who tried to kill her friends? Who tried to corner her? You bastards have been making people suffer for only the gods know how long, and now when it's turned against you, you're suddenly acting like it's the greatest crime ever committed in the history of the world? You know, all this time I thought you were at least acting out of conviction: now I see you don't even have that.”
“Save me your sanctimony!” the First Apostle shouted. “You go against your deity—your protector and ruler—then act as though you are on the path of righteousness! You are nothing more than a mad dog that has slipped its chain, running loose and—stop laughing!”
“I can't help it!” the Stalker cried. “This is just too much fun! Besides, have you never been on a real hunt before? Even when mortals hunt bears, they lose a few hounds sometimes. Did you really think this would be easy? I told you before that I picked quarry that would give us a challenge: am I supposed to be upset now that he's…you know…giving us a challenge? You know what I'm about!”
The First Apostle made a disgusted noise in his throat.
“Oh, don't be so cross, it's not like we've lost already!” the Stalker said with easy grace. “But I suppose there is some merit in you hounds being a little sore with me. I've just been here having fun, after all!”
The small fae stepped away from the group of holy warriors and approached the nearest wall. From portals, elementals poured into the room, attacking with flame, lightning, and ice. As the hidden church’s meagre forces struck back with weapons, miracles and arrows, the First Apostle raised his shield, chanting a prayer.
A nimbus of light billowed from his form, expanding outward until it covered his followers in a glowing, protective shield.
All the while, Alex Roth watched.
The Stalker placed his hand on the wall. “I've been letting the hounds do most of the work…but what’s the point of a fun hunt unless the hunter gets involved?”
As he finished his declaration, he began to whistle, emitting high pitched sounds. Their pitch kept rising, climbing higher and higher until none could hear them.
Then, the wall began to shake.