Asheron's Fall: The Power of Ten, Book Six

“Aye, so hurry up and make Thirteen so I can do that!” he groused at me, leaning on Endure, his Hammer beating in a slow, steady rhythm under his chin. I could see he was still giving orders to the forces fanning out around the town, and the Scouts working the hills were on alert in case the lugians tried to do something.

I’d popped up the Disks outside to stack stuff on, so they were looting the town clean, and we’d be pulling out nigh as quickly as we’d moved in, leaving a ghost town behind us… one surrounded by twenty-foot walls with no easy way in or out.

Not that the lugians and undead couldn’t easily knocks holes in said walls, but it was the principle of the thing. Make ‘em work to take it back!

I, of course, could take them down as easily as I’d put them up. Trying to use them as a defense against us was not a wise idea, but I was going to leave that to them to work out.

“Got the Seal Rooms already made?” he asked, a dark glitter in his pale green eyes.

“Directly underneath you, easily large enough for fifty people, exits off the rear wall on a casual expansion of the building that is very, very much not obvious from the inside or outside.”

He got up promptly and walked out of the room with a startlingly light tread, and was back a minute later, sitting down again without preamble. “Damn, you’ve got good stonework. Nobody’s going to notice that without tremblesense. Even the wear on the stonework is the same, and the aging pattern on the bricks!”

“It’s like I have experience with constructing buildings and working with stone and clay and all the fun stuff,” I tossed back at him. “You work metal, I work stone. It’s all the same.”

“I don’t work that much metal that fast,” he grunted, but his wounded air was all for show. “I do love having a capable mage I can boss around, however!” His smile was huge and white and eating all the shit.

“Yes, my Warlord,” I replied kindly. “I have also been hearing from your lads that they want to get home and check up on everyone.”

Nobody was actually worried about the state of the people up at Stonehold, given the Allegiance ties and leaving some mages there who could inform us of anything going on… and Oswald’s students were spread across the mountains and hills, keeping watch for any sign of undead or virindi movements, happily not finding any.

I’d already sent the gurogs off back home, clad in new armor and with some nice loot for themselves and their efforts… and stuffed with food they’d never tasted before. They were eager to get in more undead-killing themselves, perhaps moving to mountains that weren’t quite so dangerous for their few children.

The North was still a place for them to test their strength and improve, however, and given their natural power, far more ideal for their warriors.

“Yes, I am going to set up a rotation for those who want to go home and return, or just go home. There are some quite eager to help with the fighting, as they had kin in Cragstone or Hebian-To.” He closed his eyes slightly, taking a deep breath. “One thing I was spared coming here. Some of the lads lost whole chunks of family when the cities fell, and have kin among MacNaill’s undead there.”

“Well, I don’t know if Plane Shift can take us back to Ispar without proper coordinates, and I’m leery about trying. It’s obvious to me that this is where I’m supposed to be.”

He nodded with a grunt. “The same. My Hag is here, obviously I’m supposed to be here. She definitely didn’t need to be staying back home.”

“Heard the scuttlebutt about the rest of the world yet?” I asked him.

His eyes narrowed alertly. “Sounds ominous. What’s up?”

“Apparently the Deathstones were designed to siphon off life energy to fuel a massive stasis spell for the surviving Empyrean people, who Asheron sent into safe-keeping. It seems the olthoi horde in its millions blitzed their way across the rest of the world, killing them all as they searched for their queen, and it was his way of saving them until they could be released safely.”

“Huh.” He hadn’t heard that, obviously. “And the Queen was here.”

“Might still be. There’s been no confirmation of her dying, and there’s a very good chance she’s on that island below Vissidal off the eastern coasts, according to Oswald.”

I flicked up the Holo of the map of the island for him, and he glared at it.

“Well, the old man never mentioned that, because he didn’t need to, I guess,” he finally grunted. “But the implications of a group of magical insects with that much power invading the whole rest of the planet…”

“I personally have my doubts as to whether or not their invading ecology would survive in any but the most magically-intense areas, which would mean most of their horde has likely died off of starvation. That said, this island is a long ways from anywhere else, and they simply couldn’t reach here. Any olthoi on the island were likely born here.”

“Huh. So reduced to pockets on the rest of the planet, but likely swarming out to take down any center of power for a rival species, including any incidental Empyrean survivors,” he said slowly. “Can they plane-shift? I’d heard that the Empyreans captured the queen and brought her here intending to put her in a zoo or something.”

“The mages I spoke with alluded to the fact the olthoi could actually dig through dimensions and spatial fractures. They likely followed the Portal here from their homeworld the long and hard way, although they also said a traitor among the Empyreans kept it open far too long and allowed the olthoi to gain early access and a foothold here as they tried to rescue their queen.”

“Farthing idiots. So convinced of their own superiority and mastery of magic they couldn’t see the threat of a magical insectile hivemind for what it was. I’d like to say they deserved it, but I doubt the majority of the populace had a clue…”

“Oh, they had the arrogance down. It gets worse. The living Empyreans had basically lost their knowledge of the plane-traveling magic that allowed their ancestors to explore other worlds and planes with such impunity. Asheron was the only living one in memory who managed to understand the magic involved. There might be a few among the undead who understand how to make such Portals and set them up, but most of them don’t know any more than Isparian-style magic, just like the Empyreans who were rescued from stasis. They used what was already there.”

“So, they not only were going out to alien worlds to capture things for study, they had no clue how to open such Portals, or close them, save for the one person?” Briggs exclaimed in some disbelief. “Who ARE these idiots?”

“High intelligence, long history, mastery of magic, average to low Wisdom,” I intoned. “Shouldn’t surprise you at all, right?”

“I… no.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Isparian Magic operates off Intellect, right?”

“Technically, it’s Focus and Self, but in the Power of Ten System, yes, it works off Intellect… and Charisma. Arcane centered.”

“I am soooper Intelligent and like a god and better than you, so naturally I know goddamn best. Shut up and go away and hold my beer while you’re at it!”

“That is a wonderfully informative way of conveying the mindset,” I agreed sagely. “Who needs Wisdom once you can use your Intellect bonus for Will saves? It’s obviously the dump Stat for a Caster.”

“Not Charisma?” he lifted his bushy eyebrows.

“Charisma gets you laid, Briggs.”

“Oh. Right. Definitely a power Stat,” he was forced to agree. Given Sources had monstrous amounts of it, despite his brutish appearance, Briggs had absolutely no shortage of women interested in testing out his, eh, size and solidity, and had likely been putting up with the attention his whole life.

Having his Hag around to lean on and take care of some of that attention for him was likely a great relief. Being able to play around and having the personality to do so were different things, and the Briggs I recalled wasn’t a player.

The Amazons really hadn’t given him a lot of choice, however, and Sama back on Terra-Luna was always willing to indulge them. Briggs rarely got to spend a night alone as a result, but it was one of those problems that not too many people were all that sympathetic about.

“You have a look on your face.”

“I’m remembering the amount of attention Briggs gets back on Terra-Luna from all the Amazons. You are so lucky here.”

His mouth worked for a moment. “Do I even want to know?” he finally asked.

“When it all went to shit, the original Briggs player was visiting his sister at a women’s college in Minnesota. He recruited the students there to swear Amazon Oaths to the five Goddesses, and as a result he ended up with over two thousand Amazons, with whom he then proceeded to kick arse all over the city, the state, the north, the country, and the whole damn world.”

“Oh.” He thought about that, then grinned widely. “Sounds like a pretty cool dude, huh?”

“Commander Briggs, the Warlord of Terra-Luna. Yeah, he’s a pretty cool dude. Nominally under Aelryinth, but only because he doesn’t want to mess with the political shit. People don’t realize just how much of the agenda he sets for the planet, and his commitment to broad, low power, especially the Powered Tens of other Allegiances.

“Ael is perfectly aware of Source-backed Rivers of Fate and all that, and is leveraging him and his Sources and Nulls for all they are worth.”

“Yeah, well, according to you, they’ve got a whole planet to take back and recolonize.”

“Yes. Especially from the creatures that are attempting to colonize it over their dead bodies.”

Briggs just grunted. “How long has it been for them? Have they been able to stop it, slow it down, anything? The Powered have to be pretty strong after all this time, right?”

“My memories are of only ten years passing. There isn’t even a second generation raised in the new world yet. I know Kris’ folks were born on Ispar and are at least fifty. So there’s temporal shenanigans going on between worlds. You’ve had longer to do what you do than they have back on Terra-Luna.”

“Really.” He frowned at that. “Could it be that we’re supposed to be bringing reinforcements or something to that fight, and given the extra time to raise the forces to do so?”

I actually stopped swapping papers to turn and look at him. “Huh. That… is an interesting thought. And I can’t say that it is wrong, given how Mithar works. But… how are you supposed to get there from here, if that is true?

“And, not to be blunt about it, but these people here need rescuing and rebuilding themselves, they aren’t going to be about jumping off-world to help others.”

“Well, sure, but if we do the job here, in a century, this is going to be a pretty small island, all things considered,” Briggs pointed out.

“At which point you’ve a whole planet to rescue from an alien ecology,” I fobbed back at him.

“Oh. Right. Long long loooong term stuff then. But if we’re playing temporal games, still possible, right? Especially if we add Ispar and what Kris’ folks can do into the mix?”

I turned back to what I was doing. “I wouldn’t dare try to get a cross-planetary alliance going until we know who and what has been turning the people and this island into what amounts to a video game for gods-know how many years, and we probably will have to fuck them up.

“Things that can mess with magic on the level this place was messed up with magic are probably not something we can take on, Briggs.”

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, considering that. “I hear that. And they probably aren’t going to let us find our own way, either, unless something really weird happens and forces them to.”

“Find the Weird Way, Master Source. We’ll help you get there,” I told him quietly.

He took another deep breath, doubtless figuring on what and how to do… something.

But as I’d said, we’d help him get there.