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

“Uh...” I flicked up a Holo of what I was seeing for her to look at, not sure how to explain this. She stared at it intently, noticing like myself that the bouncing and sliding just above the ground hover-style movement of the things was deceptively fast. “I think they are expelling air in bursts to make the noise.”

“And I think we found our manse-cleaners,” she replied, and I realized she probably was right. The things seemed to be ignoring most of the organic material around, and were sliding right towards us. “They aren’t going to like us,” she grinned, reaching out and tapping Quaver to the control node closest to her. “I can probably tank all that stuff, but we don’t need the attention. You have an Assay on them?”

I scrambled around to the front of the Wagon, with seats of reedshark hide stuffed with dried grass for at least some level of comfort, the wood thoughtfully curved and shaped for longer-term rides... although I’d not have to worry about bumpy wheels. “One hundred and twenty paces... okay, they are... called K’nath. Different colors indicate different Elements, oozes with specific diets... these are various sizes, but certainly not the strongest. It looks like they feed on magic-enriched minor lifeforms, as might be found in stagnant water leeching from a ley line connection...”

“And they instinctively shoot Blasts at moving targets and threats nearby, like the Summons they probably ran into over there.” She had all the nearby positions memorized, of course. “Okay, I think we are out of here.”

The Disks didn’t hum or anything as she moved around the Wagon, and then it smoothly moved after her, dragged by the telekinetic leash to Quaver. She hopped off the ten-foot berm to the former lawn below, at a right angle to the incoming trapezoidal pyramids of gelatin.

She forced her way through the waist-high grass without effort, while I peered back in the direction of the things. “Where would such a ridiculous bunch of creatures come from?” I had to say, shaking my head.

“A horde of dungeon-clearing creatures that sweep up mildew and rot, and heartily encourage the natives of such places to leave them alone?” Kris replied with a grin over her shoulder. “That screams wizards to me!”

I opened my mouth and raised my finger in reproof, thought about the Chaotic members of the arcane community, and shut my mouth. “Clearly an upgrade to a mere gelatinous cube!” I recovered smartly.

“Clearly.” There was a chorus of booms as one of the mantraps that had expanded into the front yard dipped towards the incoming array of colors, and a second later was blown apart by multi-element Blasts raining down upon it. The other Plants promptly pulled in their leaves and shrank back.

We paused to watch them hover-jet up the side of the berm/motte with loud whooping sounds, clearing the full height, and then shuffle and jostle their way to the front door, pushing inside in a line of moving gelatin.

“Yep, that is REALLY weird,” Kris grinned. “You Casters come up with really strange stuff, you know?”

“I bet you nine to one they taste good, too.”

Her eyebrows rose as she considered that, weighed the odds, and laughed. “Something to check in the future!” she called back, refusing the bet, and we headed back to the river as I wove the Camouflage III over the Wagon. It wasn’t true invisibility, but it would be a big blur while moving, and very hard to spot once parked. Pointedly, it would be nearly impossible to pick out from a distance by a random spotter.

We were off and into motion again!

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“Another five degrees warmer.”

We’d seen our first purple phyntos wasp Summons, shooting little Firebolts at us to annoy us. The azure gromnies beside the lake had given way to more green and gray ones here in the waters and muck of the swamp, surging through the still waters toward us, all of them universally and stupidly hostile.

From my higher vantage on the seat of the Wagon, I pointed off to the side. “That what I think it is?”

Kris craned her neck over to look, picking out what I’d seen. “Oh, hey, grew a lot of vegetation fast, but yeah.”

Over on the shore, a whole section of oddly-shaped stone had erupted up out of the narrow banks, sprawling and winding as it ambled along the shoreline and into the bank.

“That’s a living reedshark,” I reported, staring at the two reedsharks laying down outside the entry to what was another dungeon forced into reality here. “The bigger one is a Summons.”

“Oh ho. Something for dinner, unneeded as it might be.” Quaver hummed into her hand, and without further ado, she took off for them, leaving the Wagon to my control and to follow more slowly as I covered her.

She didn’t ask for support, so I didn’t lead her, nor was she subtle about what she was doing. Both reedsharks jumped to their feet, the living one giving off an ululating yip of a cry, and then both of them charged to meet her.

The bigger Summons took the full force of the sweeping slash from her charge through the side of its narrow beak of a jaw, and the adamantine edge took care of bone, hide, and muscle alike as the charge multiplier and an inordinately Heavy Weapon took off its head. Then the living one found itself leaping in to impale itself on the point of the Sword as Quaver stilled and formed a nice lunging point for it to kill itself on.

There were suddenly a lot of yips and calls and sounds of motion from inside the yawning entrance to the dungeon inside the extruded mound, however.

“Haha! At least ten are coming!” Kris crowed, while I stopped the Wagon and even drifted backwards slightly as the sound of many three-legged bodies growling and barking came from the dark tunnel going into the mound.

I flicked up Shards in bemusement as the first of the aggressive local living fauna surged out to attack her, and it paid the price in a dipping underthrust that made it look like her arms were rubber or something with how easily she exploited the proper angle.

Because I could, I flicked up minor Imperils on the creatures as they moved to swarm her, just to give myself rep counts. Quaver was moving faster than I could Cast, and the creatures were dropping like flies in the face of the Sword's remorseless and near monomolecular edge, all that weight and inhuman strength driving it with incredible force and shearing ability. Turning that hide to the toughness of wet paper just meant her Power Attacks were even more lethal when unleashed on them, and if the protective value went negative, they actually took extra damage from her attacks, their flesh splitting like rotting pulp in the face of her blows.

In less than a minute, all of the reedsharks were dead. Six of them were real, four were discorporating slowly.

I flicked a hand at Kris’ pants, which had just been ripped to shreds by the reedsharks clawing and biting at them, only to find the smooth skin and flesh beneath to be about as permeable as metal. She didn’t have a single serious injury on her, and the mild scratches vanished in seconds as I watched.

The ragged leather pants, however, still had to be Mended.

“So, how many fights do you end up near-naked in?” I had to ask her.

“Oh, you really don’t want to know. Also, really helps not having the bust to worry about.” She tapped her flat chest meaningfully.

“I am Aware of what a Dragon Heart Tat can do when unlocked, you know!” I reminded her with a roll of my eyes.

“And mom can be such a mankiller when she turns it on, too!” Kris grinned unashamedly, then looked at the tunnel. “Mind if I go in? Even if there’s a big tough one inside somewhere, I’m not worried.”

I eyed the sprawl of the former dimensional space, which ambled over a simply extraordinary amount of area, like the architect had all the room in the world to work with, and so took advantage of it all. “Uh, be my guest. I’ll be fine out here.”

“How’s your butchery?” she asked me, pausing at the entry, Quaver down to a mere eighteen inches for the tighter space.

“Alchemist and Healing ranks. I am remarkably good at cutting things apart and keeping the important bits. No Leatherworking yet, however.”

“Good enough! Save some cuts, and we’ll see how they roast up!”

Which means I am going to have to identify some more spices, I thought, pulling out my inherited knife. A flick of Force Reserve magic along it gave it a supplemental edge, and I picked one of the smaller, younger animals to start with for slicing apart, recalling how it had tasted from the others Kris had killed.

The hides were going to come in useful, too. Acid for curing them wasn’t hard to come by...

Mira kept an eye on the relayed eye-view, charting Kris’s progress as she moved through something that might once have been an actual living home or business, but had been completely taken over by Summoned reedsharks at some point. Then the real reedsharks had taken advantage of its hominess when it popped up and moved in, as well. They’d obviously been a lot harder on the cleanliness of the place, and the smell wasn’t anything I’d much tolerate, according to Kris’ nose.

Vivus flared inside the place, and the Summons she chopped down weren’t going to come back. If later reedsharks wanted to move back in after she was done clearing the place, they’d do so without the additional security of ever-returning sentries they didn’t have to feed.

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Kris set a huge intact wooden and brass beer tankard down in front of me. It had been resting on a high shelf and so escaped the reedsharks, although not the local spiders.

I cleaned it up with a flourish. “Our first true treasure!” I deadpanned as she grinned widely. I had no idea who Ulgrim was, but he obviously liked his booze.

“Truer words!” she laughed, picking it up and looking around excitedly. “Bartender! Bartender! Your best ale!” she called as she waved it about.

“Ugh. Now I have to look for hops and barley?” I deadpanned.

“My folks have whole baggage trains to carry around daily necessities. It’s like whoever slaughtered the humans here didn’t appreciate beer, wine, and trade!”

“Uncivilized barbarians, the lot of them,” I sniffed, finding my taste buds suddenly acting up. “Oh, Mithar, I could use some strong coffee or tea right now. Quit reminding me that camping sucks for amenities!”

“Mashed potatoes. With garlic butter and salt and pepper,” Kris sighed wistfully. “I was looking for signs of spuds among those farms back north, but not too hard. Something seemed to be rooting a lot of them out, but I didn’t see any pigs. Could have been wild drudges or those monugas, the banders and tums didn’t strike me as potato-eaters.”

“Whatever,” I waved it away airily. “We’ll find out soon...enough?” I saw her stiffen, and turned around to see what she was looking at.

A hundred yards down the river, a light blue head with no hair was protruding from between the leaves of the bushes there, surveying the area.

I lowered the barely-discernible Wagon further behind the brush we were using for cover as the undead creature stepped further into sight, clutching a spear and round shield, and clad in old but serviceable metal and leather armor. Its limbs were extremely withered, depleted of fat and moisture, what flesh remained clinging harshly to its bones.

It was also at least a good head taller than Kristie was.