Throne Hunters Book 4, Chapter 6

“Vic, no!” Harald stepped before his friend, cutting off his line of sight to the demon. “You can’t mean that. You don’t—this isn’t—”

“Darling.” Vic was amused, exasperated, and wry all at once. “Come now. You’ve seen her hips. Those thighs? How is a poor boy to refuse? You should know me better.”

“Vic.” Nessa’s voice was urgent, her expression raw as she seized his elbow. “Stop joking. For once in your damned life, please, just stop.”

Vic glanced at her pincer grip but made no effort to free himself. “You see, Nessa, your greatest mistake was to think I was joking all this time. I’ve never been anything but completely earnest. The Kitty Kat Club has been my temple, and I believe I’ve now met my high priestess.”

“You can’t do this.” Harald’s voice shook with the intensity of his emotions. “It’s a curse, Vic. It changes you; it warps your very soul. Who you are, what you want, the things you’re willing to do.”

“But Harry.” Vic arched a brow. “There’s already practically nothing I’m not willing to do. I am sublimely molded to the occasion.”

“Stop it!” Nessa slapped Vic, hard, and the svelte swordsman staggered back a step, his blond locks falling into disarray over his handsome face. For a moment he just stood thus, bent over by the force of the blow, and then he straightened, a smear of crimson under his nose.

“Stop it,” whispered Nessa, her expression crumpling. “No more jokes, Vic. Please. Just… please.”

“Nessa.” His voice was warm, rich with affection, but it was clear, painfully clear, that he wasn’t changing his mind. “We all have our paths to walk. Our fates, our destinies. Yours is to remain a fragile, broken beauty whose haunting solitude is a siren call for romantic idiots like Harald. Mine? I mean to bathe myself in demon flesh and emerge a new man, reforged with purpose and power.”

A great dome of silvered light flowered within the room, pressing out rapidly to meet the walls, and Harald knew instinctively what it was: Sam’s Starfire Bastion. He felt himself uplifted, his purpose renewed, but most importantly, Eclavistra’s scent, her beguiling aroma of pepper and vanilla, of leather and smoke, grew even dimmer.

“You’ve always danced on the edge of idiocy and brilliance,” said Sam, her tone forbidding, her expression cold. “But I can see now which side you’ve chosen to fall on. I won’t lecture you. But realize what you’re throwing away. The friendships. The opportunities. The people who need you.”

Vic combed his hair out of his face and inclined his head graciously to Sam. “Your high opinion is all I’ve ever craved, darling.  And I know this might shock you all, but there’s a chance, the slimmest, most delicate possibility that my actions may benefit us all in the long run. But it’s impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

And with great deliberation, Vic stepped around Harald, patting him on the shoulder as he went, and approached Eclavistra, who had watched this all with quiet amusement and an undisguisable air of victory.

“My queen. My lady of pain.” Vic spread his arms wide and executed a flawless courtly bow. “May I present myself to you with the utmost humility: Victor Carmine, a Rapier Regent of no account who has found distinction only in the beds of a hundred comely whores. I have been complimented by the highest nobles in the land on my knowledge of wine, by the lowest beggars in the Tangles on my insouciant wit and cursed by friends wherever I’ve been forced to betray and leave them behind. If your cause has need of assistance, then you shall find in me a rock-hard adherent of your every virtue.”

Harald watched with impotent fury. This couldn’t be happening. Tears were streaming down Nessa’s face, but she’d stepped back, her skin blanched and mottled. Sam grimaced, jaw clenched, her Starfire Bastion clearly not having had the intended effect. This was no beguilement, no enchantment.

This was Vic at his purest.

Anna glared, eyes blazing, but was clearly as impotent as the rest of them. Kársek alone appeared only gravely attentive, and Harald knew better than to expect a last-minute rescue for the dwarf.

No.

If there was anyone who could intervene, it was himself and himself alone.

But a modicum of self-awareness held his tongue. What could he say? That he hated the power the Demon Seed had gifted him, the sense of purpose, the clarifying nature it had had on his nature? That he loathed his meteoric rise in importance and lethality, the way he’d been thrust into the center of Flutic’s affairs, and that if he could he’d undo it all, give the Demon Seed back to Vorakhar, and return to a life of wasted potential and bitterness?

No.

Vic knew him too well.

Saw too deeply into his soul.

Any protests would reek of hypocrisy.

We are overjoyed at your enthusiasm, said Eclavistra, stepping forward to run a long fingernail across Vic’s collarbone, then cup his chin and turn his head from side to side. You’re a rare specimen, Victor Carmine. A human honest enough to embrace his basest nature, but hungry enough to desire immortality. Your potential is startling. I shall enjoy this dance.

“But if I may be so bold? Before I sign my soul away on the dotted line?”

The luscious demon raised a perfect brow. Such temerity. Ask, and pray that you don’t overstep your bounds. I can be, as you shall discover, an impatient mistress.

“Oh, of that I have no doubt. Fair warning, I shall be nothing if not a never-ending source of frustration and amusement. I just can’t seem to help myself. But for now: I will sign this contract, or kiss your lips, or anywhere else that you require—and I do mean anywhere else—as soon as you do me one tiny, teeny, itty bitty little favor: open a portal for my friends to the 27th Level.”

Eclavistra laughed. That’s all? Ah, but now I grow disappointed. I thought you a man of selfless determination. Don’t tell me you are nobly sacrificing yourself on the altar of friendship?

“Me?” Vic placed a hand on his chest. “Once we begin a game of slap and tickle I’ll show you my mettle, but for now, consider this a parting gift for my erstwhile friends. After all, there’s no better way to leaven a sting than with a little sweetness, don’t you think?”

Agreed. Very well. Consider it done.

Now. If he was to intervene, the moment was now, but what could he do? An assault would only provoke Eclavistra to erase the rest of the group with contemptuous ease. Call for Vorakhar? His own patron demon would laugh at Vic’s decision, would no doubt focus instead on Harald’s duplicity in entering the dungeon anonymously, if he even came on time.

No.

He was undone by Vic’s own bitter wisdom. There was nothing he could say that would arouse either derision or pity in his best friend.

“Vic.” His friend looked back as Eclavistra released him and opened her lavender portal. This was goodbye. What could he say? What felt most honest, most true? “Try not to break her heart.”

Vic snorted. “No promises, Harry boy. No promises.”

And then he stepped into the blazing purple light, following his new mistress, and was gone.

The portal snuffed out, and the warren felt dank and dark in its absence.

“No,” whispered Nessa, hands rising to her throat.

Sam hurried to her side but drew back at the last moment as if afraid of provoking an attack.

A second portal flowered to life where the first had stood, radiant and pale and beautiful as the heart of a purple lily.

A portal to the 27th Level.

“The 27th?” Anna’s voice shook. “Why would he request that we descend so far? I thought the 20th was almost beyond your power.”

“Master Darrowdelve is uniquely suited to the 27th,” said Kársek. “And it is far beyond where our enemies shall search for us.”

Harald took a shaky breath. “It’s true. The 27th is where I found Shadowpaw. It’s populated with evil scarecrows who attack with mental assaults. My high Ego status made me able to mostly ignore that and cut them down.”

“We should go,” said Sam. “Before the portal closes.”

“Damn him,” said Nessa, wiping at her tears and raising her face to the ceiling. “Damn his idiocy.” She smiled tremulously. “He’s… he really did it. He’s gone.”

“Come on,” said Sam, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We need to go. Now.”

Anna took a shaky breath. “I’d not imagined… that the demons would be so… much.” She straightened, face pale, and took up Vic’s pack. “We agree, then? The 27th?”

“The 27th,” said Kársek firmly, and hefted the sack full of Artifacts. “Yes.”

Harald gazed about the web-filled warren. He felt gut-struck, lightheaded, dazed. Was he thinking this through? But he couldn’t get over Vic’s sudden absence. Everything had changed irrevocably.

“You damn idiot,” he whispered, repeating Nessa’s words, and led the way through the portal.

There was that brief, familiar sensation of dislocation, of the abyss welcoming him into the void, and then he emerged into a large square chamber cast in the familiar rusted yellow and orange hues that he remembered.

He summoned the Goldchops so that all three appeared around him, and drew Shadowpaw from his Cosmos. The huge mastiff appeared a moment later to sniff sharply at the stale air, and then glanced at Harald as if to say: here again?

The room was familiar, but not one he’d ever passed through. Aged and worn and dilapidated, it was built from gray stone from whose seams great sheets of rust had spilled forth, painting their face in patches of virulent orange.

The ceiling was high overhead, allowing for two stories’ worth of balconies to encircle the walls. Each floor above sported cramped alcoves, their faces barred with iron.

Harald prowled forward, Dawnblade in hand, Goldchops bobbing alongside, but there was no sign of the scarecrows. Shadowpaw sniffed and padded about, but his calmness was what finally steadied Harald’s nerves. Straightening from his battle crouch, he half-turned to watch his friends emerge, and when Kársek stepped through, the portal vanished, leaving them permanently stranded on the 27th.

“Wow,” said Sam, craning her neck as she turned about. “So strange. What are those alcoves?”

“The scarecrows use them,” said Harald, keeping his voice hushed. “They can teleport short distances, and when I fought them, a favorite tactic of theirs was to vanish into the back of one of those where they could mind blast me while protected by the bars.”

“Your Goldchops must have been invaluable,” said Anna, voice tight with tension.

“You’ve no idea. And now I’ve got three of them.” Harald considered the exits. Two tunnels led away on opposite sides of the room into darkness. A recessed pool dominated the center of the chamber, shallow and dry. One of its edging flagstones had been pried up, and the hard dirt beneath pecked at and churned.

His friends simply stood there, taking in the room, but Harald sensed that they weren’t simply intimidated by the grandeur and alien nature of the chamber. Anna was breathing with quick, shallow breaths; Nessa was dazed, staring out blankly at one tunnel mouth; Sam grimaced and was clearly having an internal debate, the Eclipse Edge in hand, her head occasionally giving sharp shakes. Only Kársek was still himself, calm and collected as he propped his rune hammer over one shoulder, his other fist holding the heavy sack.

Too much had happened too quickly.

His friends were overwhelmed.

He was feeling overwhelmed.

But they needed him. They needed guidance. They needed leadership.

“All right. The scarecrows didn’t seem to travel around too much. Most of the ones I found were busy either dancing or digging for scales. We should be safe for a short spell as long. Shadowpaw, watch the right tunnel mouth.” He reached into his Cosmos and summoned Wirmas forth. The pale-skinned hobgoblin appeared a moment later, hunched and clad in his golden cloak, his hag-fish mouth pulling into a reflexive sneer. “Wirmas, watch the left tunnel mouth. We’re going to camp here for a short spell.”

“Ah, but we’ve delved deep,” exhaled Wirmas, turning in a slow circle. “We’re far beyond the realms you can handle. Seeking death, are we?”

“No talking. Sentry duty. Now.”

The hobgoblin inclined his head mockingly and stalked to the tunnel mouth. Shadowpaw let out a low chuff and did the same, disappearing into the gloom of the tunnel.

“Everyone, bring your gear to this corner.”

People did as he bid. They unshouldered packs and set down their bags.

“Everyone take a drink, eat something light.”

Again, people did as he commanded, uncorking waterskins, digging out dried rations, to stand about chewing and swallowing.

That helped, but it wasn’t enough.

“All right, listen up.” They oriented on him. He could see the need in Anna’s face, a need for confidence, to be reassured. It was so different from the stately grace she’d exuded in her estate. Sam was still glowering, while Nessa’s expression was vacant.

“Too much has happened too quickly, but Vic bought us a break.” Even just saying his friend’s name hurt. “I won’t say that was the entirety of his motivation—the Fallen Angel knows I should have predicted his infatuation with Eclavistra, but what’s done is done, and we’re here now. On the 27th, which is possibly the safest place for us in all the Dungeon.”

Sam snorted. “Hard to believe, but you’re right.”

“I survived here when I was just a Level 1 raider. I’m now Level 5, and you’ve all accessed your third Thrones. Kársek alone can probably turn the scarecrows into little more than straw and rags with a blast. I’m not sure what their mind blasts will do to you, but when we come across them, I’ll draw their attention and keep it. We’re safe. For a spell.”

“The six Houses will focus on the top ten Levels,” agreed Anna, voice faint. She kept darting glances at the tunnel mouths. “They won’t imagine we’ve descended this far this swiftly. Yes. We should be safe.”

She was reassuring herself, Harald realized. Vocalizing a truth she needed to believe, so he smiled warmly and nodded his agreement.

“So, this is what we’re doing: we’re going to rest for a moment and gather our wits. Then we’ll examine Gorkin’s Artifacts and see what we can use. Once we’re ready, we’ll venture forth and try to find the angel-kin. It’s my hope we can use the dangers here to rapidly level everybody up. And that’s all we need to focus on for now. Sam, keep the Eclipse Edge out as much as you can. With a little luck it’ll act as a beacon and draw the angel-kin to us. Everyone else: sit, rest, close your eyes. We got little to no sleep last night, and we’re going to have to start learning to rest in shifts.”

Nessa simply slid down the wall to lean her head back and close her eyes, arms propped on her knees. Anna moved into the very corner and there sat clumsily, her plate armor making it impossible to rest easily. He’d have to address that soon: the armor was great for protection, but like all plate, it didn’t lend itself to flexible raiding. Kársek dismissed his rune hammer, sat, and began to open all the packs. When he caught Harald’s curious look, he paused.

“Without Vic, it’s no longer feasible to carry so many packs. I’ll try to consolidate our belongings for ease of travel.”

“Smart,” said Harald, and felt again a huge wave of relief that the dwarf was with them.

Which left Sam, who stepped away to stand, arms crossed, glaring moodily at the far reaches of the room.

“Hey,” said Harald, moving alongside her.

She glanced at him, looked away.

Harald sorted through his thoughts. His feelings. The fact that he had Ego 23 to keep him on track, keep him strong, keep him focused. How would he be feeling otherwise? The night before he’d slaughtered a hundred people. Killed a Silver-ranked Raider. Rescued his friends. Now they were down on the 27th following Vic’s capitulation to evil.

He couldn’t take his even keel for granted. It was incredible that his friends were still with him, still keeping it together, still in the fight.

Mostly.

“We’re in a tough spot,” said Sam at last. She pitched her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “We’re trapped permanently in the Dungeon with limited food supplies, and from what I remember of these scarecrows, they didn’t sound edible.”

“Right.”

“So limited food, very tough opponents. You might be able to confront them head on, but it’s entirely possible that a direct blast might turn the rest of our brains into soup.”

Harald inhaled, held his breath, nodded. “True.”

“Vic’s… stupidity… has bought us time, but there’s no saying the Gold-ranked raiders the six Houses will send after us won’t have some manner of tracking Artifacts in their possession. We might have far less time than we think before they show up, and there’s no way we can fight off even just one.”

Harald recalled Hammerfell flattening hundreds of terror birds with one blow. He nodded mutely.

“Nessa isn’t in good shape.” Sam swung about to glance at where the other woman had curled up on her side, facing the wall. “She wasn’t doing well to begin with—not after Gorkin grabbed us. Losing Vic, being trapped underground. Not good. I’m worried about her.”

Harald nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

“Anna’s doing well, everything considered. She’s a Level 2 on the 27th Level. One wrong move on our part, one moment of bad luck, and she’ll die.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

Sam sighed. “I’m fine. Furious, of course. I can’t believe Vic did that. But then again, of course he would. Eclavistra embodies everything he desires. Wealth, sex, power, advantage, and even, possibly, a way to help us out in the bargain. Idiot. Idiot. But it’s too late now. He’s gone.” She shook her head, and Harald saw real pain in her expression. Loss. Only then did he realize how much Sam had come to care for Vic. Care for him in her own way.

“And?” he prompted.

“And?” Her expression turned bleak. “I don’t know, Harald. My only hope now lies in finding this angel-kin, and in her not immediately attacking you again. If we give her back her sword, present her with the Crown, we move into uncertain territory. It’s our only hope, because I don’t see another way out, otherwise. We don’t dare descend to the 28th, where you won’t be so perfectly suited to fight the enemies. We’re trapped on the 27th with enough food for a handful of days at best. We can’t ration, because we need our strength to fight. So, we have four days, if everything goes perfectly, before we’re out of food and water. Less, if the Gold-ranked raiders show up. A week, say, in which to find this angel lady, and then we’re done for.”

Harald searched for a joke. Something with which to lighten her pronouncement but couldn’t think of one. “We’ve a whole mess of Artifacts that might tip the balance in our favor. Gorkin wouldn’t have kept junk in his private vault.”

“True.” Sam sighed again. “True. I don’t know.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m just tired. Tired and worn out and angry. I can’t believe Vic did that.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then dropped her hand. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t helping.”

She looked so tired, so worn out, the lines deeply carved into her face, her eyes winged with purple, her golden hair lank, her shoulders bowed, that Harald pulled her reflexively into a hug.

For a moment she stood tensely within his arms, and then she relaxed, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “Together. As we’ve always done. Look how far we’ve come, and against what odds. Nobody thought we could beat Gorkin, but now he’s dead and his treasures are ours. We’ve got the Twilight Crown. You’ve got the Eclipse Edge. I know the situation’s tough, but we’ve dealt with tough before and come out on top. Just one more miracle. That’s all we need. One more stroke of fortune.”

“And if it doesn’t come?” whispered Sam, holding him tight.

“It’ll come.” Harald felt his resolve harden, his implacable desire to win, to conquer, to rise. “Willingly or not, it’ll come. I won’t have it any other way.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(I've made some minor but important edits on previous chapters, so here they are in case you've already read past them.)

Chapter 2:

(This takes place after Harald's collapse)

“Not that we checked,” said Vic from where he stood. “We’re just assuming given what we can easily see.”

Harald touched his fingers again to his lip, then his ear. Warm, sticky blood. His thoughts were scattered.

Words hovered in the air before him, and it took some effort to focus and make them out:

The Demon Seed Has Stirred
Your Presence has risen from 11 to 13

Damn. That was a hell of jump.

But what had happened? For a terrifying moment he simply couldn’t recall.

“You collapsed,” said Anna, tone severe, arms tightly crossed over her chest. She stood to one side, expression forbidding, but Harald thought he sensed the fear and concern hidden beneath her anger. “We thought you’d died.”

Chapter 3:

“Vic’s right,” said Anna, tone dry. “But I can reveal the details of my youth while we make for the Dungeon. Vic, did you procure the carriage?”

“He’s waiting outside the gate, gleefully counting each scale he’s earning while not doing a thing,” agreed Vic.

“Kársek?” Anna raised a brow. “Did you have time to count the scales?”

“I did, countess, though I was rushed in the endeavor. By my count we acquired three million, two hundred and twenty thousand Cooper Crescents’ worth of wealth.”

Vic let out a low whistle. “Imagine how much more Gorkin must have squirreled away around town.”

Anna raised her chin. “It’s my opinion that we should divide the scales equally amongst our number—Kársek excluded, unfortunately—and absorb them all. With House Sonora having to go to ground, and us spending the foreseeable future in the Dungeon, there’s no merit in retaining the wealth.”

“I’ve a different idea,” said Harald. “I’ve already Ascended my third Throne. Let’s first get everybody else above theirs, and then perhaps just give me what remains.”

“Very generous,” said Nessa dryly.

Harald met her gaze square on. “You object?”

“Hardly. Doesn’t matter. Thank you.”

“Quick tally,” said Anna. “How much do we each need to get to Ascend the third?”

They rattled off their numbers in quick succession, and Kársek did the sums rapidly and with such confidence that nobody felt the need to double check his figures. In all, it would take Sam, Nessa, Vic, and Anna a combined two million, eight hundred thousand scales.

“We don’t have much time,” said Nessa. “I suggest we skip the formalities?”

“Agreed,” said Vic, rolling up his sleeves. “We’ll toast our success in the Dungeon. Shall we?”

Kársek divided the largest scales amongst them, and they sat or lay down so as to set about the process.

Harald inclined his head as Kársek delivered the remainder: three Horizon’s Whispers and a mess of Zenith Tides and Aurora Veils.

“I’ll save some for healing,” said Harald reluctantly, and then closed his eyes and set about absorbing the last of Gorkin’s wealth.

Power flooded into him, but it was but a fraction of what he’d need to Ascend his fourth Throne. Righteous glory poured into his Cosmos, and the mass of scales disappeared, flooding his essence with the Fallen Angel’s might.

When at last he opened his eyes, he saw his friends stirring, their expressions bright with joy and newfound power, and summoned his own Window:

Scales: 1,435,333.

An enormous sum, a staggering amount, and yet somehow he felt disappointed. Reaching 10,000,000 felt like it would take a lifetime to accomplish.

“Ah!” Vic sprang to his feet. “I am a new man, refreshed and ready for adventure. This feels glorious. Glorious!”

Harald couldn’t restrain a grin as Sam wiped at her eyes, clearly overcome with emotion, and Anna was beaming. Even Nessa was having trouble restraining a smile, and when Harald met her gaze she blushed and looked away.

“I suggest we carry the Artifacts with us until we have time to identify them,” said Kársek, gesturing at a large sack in which he’d bundled their remaining treasures. “We have already tarried for too long.”

“Agreed,” said Anna, tone brisk, her eyes bright. “Though the delay was worth it. With all of us now Ascended to our Third Thrones, we’ve grown exponentially more dangerous.”

“I love life,” beamed Vic, and hoisted his sack of wine bottles. “Shall we?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------