Chương 63: 11 The Bone Throne

Serevian jerked an arrow from a Ghoul corpse. I panted heavily, flicking blood off my blade.

"How are we doing?" I called.

"Good," Drogo said, wincing as he gingerly touched a goose egg forming on the back of his head.

"Low on bolts," Othess said.

"You know you can reuse those, right?" Needles asked, wiping his long, thin dagger on his cloak. Othess shrugged.

"They're hard to get back into the magazine."

"You're shooting too liberally," Needles continued.

"Learn to conserve."

"Learn to mind your own business," Othess countered.

"Jents!" I called, examining the carnage around us. More Ghouls, more guns. Just not enough. By all reports, these tunnels should have been infested.

"Which way?" Serevian asked. My gaze shifted between each of the four open passages—another problem. We'd passed well beyond the charted portion of the tunnel. Ourabora populated a new map as we moved, but we wouldn't be able to sync maps until we reached a place where we could see the sky.

"Left," I said.

"Hand on the wall. If we hit a dead end, it'll bring us back. If it's a loop, we end up where we started."

"A cautious strategy," Serevian remarked.

"But one that will cost us too much time." The tunnel trembled, dust drifting from the ceiling. We lunged toward the strongest sections of stone and braced. Being buried alive wasn't on my to-do list for the day.

"What's going on up there?" Drogo wondered aloud.

"Lord Bloodshackle is securing the surface," Serevian said.

"His mages must be shelling anything we flush out."

"Do you have a better plan?" I asked.

"For finding the throne room?" Serevian shook his head, a sigh escaping.

"No. I suppose left is as good a choice as any other." Needles marked the wall with chalk: an arrow and a goblin signature.

"Left," I said, and we started down the passage. Holding my sixth flare high, I came to a stop at the next fork. Bodies littered the ground.

"Looks like we've finally crossed paths." Serevian crouched, turning a corpse's head. It was a Vampire wearing the violet and black of the Fel Court.

"This is Prince Lucian's team," he said, scanning the other bodies. Six Ghouls and two Vampires.

"If the Prince fell here, they took his body deeper," I said, not recognizing either of the Vamps.

"He didn't lose," Serevian said, coming back to his feet.

"Ghouls don't leave much meat on the bone when they win."

"Markings," Needles announced, holding his flare near a green chalk arrow on the left tunnel.

"Do we meet up with Lucian?" Serevian asked.

"No," I said, thumb rubbing the Bane Thesis's hilt.

"You're right, we need to cover more ground. We go right." We pressed on. Less than ten steps in, a tripwire twinged through the silence. Decompressing air hissed. Drogo cursed, hand snapping to his neck.

"Down!" I barked. Drogo drew a needle from his flesh, the skin puckering as the bone sliver slid free. A red notification flashed in my vision, hovering over the Hobgoblin. <<Debuff: Poisoned>>"Captain!" Drogo murmured, face paling. Serevian plucked up the needle, sniffing.

"Carrion Sap. He's got about twenty minutes." I cursed, checking the potions on the belt I'd stolen from Brannik. They bore Draconic labels. The Bloodwake health potions were easy enough to identify—the most numerous, with viscid orange swirling among clear red fluid. Only Drogo didn't just need a health potion. I selected one, a clear jelly with metal balls bubbling on the bottom. Antivenom—probably. The iron helped the ectoplasm bind and remove toxins.

It'd been almost a year since my last potions identification exam, and I'd never been good with potions to begin with.

"Here," I said, handing over the antivenom.

"Get the beads down, too." He didn't question me. I could have handed him White Reaper venom, and he'd have taken it all the same. Less than a minute later, a three-hour timer blinked next to the debuff notification.

"You're going to feel like brine for the next little while, but the poison will clear out in a few hours."

"Thanks, Cap," he grunted.

"Needles!" I said.

"You're on point. I need your eye." Taking the lead, Needles dusted no less than seven tripwires with glitter soot, allowing the light to catch against them. I stepped carefully over the last one before we stepped into a wider chamber.

"Well, tex," I said. Dozens of tunnels honeycombed the walls.

"Which one?" Drogo asked.

"There." Othess pointed, serpentine eyes locking onto the rightmost one. Needles crept closer and then nodded in agreement.

"Dirt and stone are worn the most here. A lot of traffic this way." Stones tumbled from one of the higher tunnels, and we pivoted, getting weapons on point. Firelight flickered against its edges as footsteps approached.

"Hold fire," I said. Then I cupped my hand to my lips.

"Antonio, ahead!" I called. The footsteps stopped.

"Tony?" Bianca ducked under the low opening. Her hard, meaty forearms currently ended in chitinous clubs, smeared with black ichor.

"Thank Jorg." Her shoulders loosened, and she slid down. A moment later, Roland followed, blood dripping from a bandage on his hand.

"Tony." He offered a curt nod.

"You lose any digits?" I asked, nodding at the bandage.

"Suppose that'll depend on the surgeon." I winced, then drew two Bloodwake healing potions from my belt. I extended them.

"Here. I expect you to play accordion at the Coppersmeldt's clubhouse when we're done here." A smile graced his stress-tightened lips at the memory. He accepted them.

"Only if you're there dancing." The scar on my forearm itched. That had been one of the best days of my life. Only I hadn't been dancing alone. Rocks tumbled from the tunnel as a final marine slipped out. When he stood upright, Needles' posture stiffened. It was Corporal De La Cruz. He carried a looted Draconic Pyrecoil MB-Forty-Four strapped across his back.

"Where are the rest?" I asked, recalling that Bianca's team had started with eight. She shook her head slowly. I understood. Roland tipped back the health potion. He winced, exhaling like he'd taken a shot of distilled whisky. My alchemical flare dropped to my feet as it sputtered to the end of its life, and I fished out another.

"Well, you're a little light for a strike team. It'd be best if you joined us." Serevian watched us carefully, eyes calculating.

"I'd really like that," Bianca said, grime streaking her face. She pulled her backpack straps tight. A pair of severed Ghoul arms protruded from her pack's flap. A wet black stain darkened its base. My lips curled.

"Don't tell me you're going to try to replicate Ghoul anatomy."

"Their bite force is impressive," she said, shrugging weakly.

"Also, I think necrotic energy regenerates their tissue. I want that." I popped the cap off the flare, and it flashed hot.

"We're going that way." I motioned for the larger opening.

"After you." Needles acted as our eyes, stealing ahead. Our passage curved and climbed sharply.

"I should warn you," Serevian whispered loud enough for the whole group to hear.

"If we hit the throne room, King Marrowrend has been assessed as a level twenty threat, and he's not going to be alone. Both of his lieutenants have killed Cousins before." My lips pursed as I processed the intel. Rats chittered in the darkness.

"Corporal," I said softly.

"Aye?" The young marine stole closer to me, Pyrecoil gripped tight.

"Have you used the flame charge on that weapon yet?"

"Flame charge?" he asked, glancing down in surprise.

"Lever behind the trigger. If we get another rat swarm, you're up." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. His lips compressed tightly, and he nodded. Needles stopped us, then marked a pressure plate with chalk. While we waited for him to check for traps, Roland unwrapped the bloody bandage on his hand, flexing fingers lined with bright pink scars. He nodded to me, appreciative of the health potion. We stepped carefully over the pressure plate, and light appeared ahead.

I motioned my troop to a halt. The effulgence further down wasn't alchemically hot, but white and bioluminescent. I signaled, then we stalked ahead. Hesitating for a breath around the bend, I peered into the main chamber. Enough room to hold a war galley opened before me. The ceiling stretched high above, a white light glaring. My eyes climbed. A score of pulsating grubs, the size of water barrels, undulated, fused to the top of the cavern.

Luminescence shone through their pale tissue, casting the room in cold white light, like biological chandeliers. Growths like mucus-drenched skin spread from the grubs, stretching across the ceiling and walls, holding the grubs in place. Serevian's hand came to my shoulder. My head turned. He pointed. A vacant throne of bones sat directly below the lights. Aside from the repulsive light source, nothing moved within.

"What are they?" I glanced back up.

"Brood lights," Serevian said.

"Mostly harmless."

"Mostly?" His bow flexed.

"After you." I stepped into the throne room, the Bane Thesis held low and to my side. Cautiously, the others trickled in after me. Half a dozen other access tunnels ringed the cavern.

"I don't get it," Bianca said.

"Where is he?"

"Probably at Zalathor's Crypt," I said through clenched teeth.

"That would explain why the Burrows have been practically empty," Serevian said. A cry of frustration escaped me, and I kicked a skull, sending it skittering across the ground.

"Puppetmaster played us!" I snarled.

"There's nothing here! We need to go. Let's find the real fight."

"More concerning," Serevian said.

"The only way they could have avoided us was with insider knowledge." He glanced up at the brood lights.

"There's a spy in the Fel Court." I gripped the Bane Thesis tight.

"Let's go. We're wasting time here." We turned, heading back toward the tunnel. The ground rumbled, and I ducked. What was this? More shelling on the surface? Rocks fell, big ones. No, this was different.

"Take cover!" I barked. The opening collapsed in on itself.

"No!" I cried, surging forward. A wave of dust hit me. Needles whirled for the other tunnels. One by one, they collapsed, each spitting a cloud of dirt as boulders crashed down. My men dropped, bringing their weapons up to the ready. I spun, sweeping the throne room as my adrenaline spiked. No need to fight a strike team if you could just bury them. One of the brood lights ruptured, spewing a burst of glowing snot that splashed heavily onto Corporal De La Cruz.

I coughed, then buried my face into my arm as the pall drifted up. The dust stirred unnaturally, not disturbed by wind, but coating something translucent.

"Needles, glitter bomb. Toss it high!" Bless my sapper's reaction timing. In an eye blink, Needles had popped the caps on two charges and hurled them over the throne. They popped, scattering a sparkling blue and pink haze across the chamber. An invisible figure, outlined in glitter, glanced down at itself.

"Ambush!" I shouted. Whatever spell cloaked him vanished, revealing a figure sitting on the throne, a long, bony arm resting casually across his knee. This thing wasn't a Ghoul. He wore a ceremonial skirt and a veil that covered his eyes. Lipless teeth grinned, gums black and withered.

"Thashkor!" Serevian barked, drawing his arrow back.

"He's a Ghast shaman!"

"Visitors!" The Ghast sneered through serrated teeth. His pale skin now glittered under the brood lights.

"Not who you were expecting, am I?" Serevian fired. Thashkor waved a hand. A disk of skin, like an unstrung drum, warped into existence before the arrow's path. The projectile punctured the hovering flesh and exited the tear as disintegrated dust. The tissue flopped to the ground.

"Shad hunter," the shaman sneered. He produced a wishbone from a pouch.

"I'll have no more of you." Pale, bony fingers snapped the wishbone. One half crumbled to dust, the other pulsed with hot blue light. A massive rib cage warped into existence around Serevian, binding his arms to his sides. Then the bones jerked upward, ripping the Fey-kin up towards the ceiling. He impacted hard beside one of the brood lights.

"Stand ready!" Serevian called.

"He never goes far without—" the ribs that caged him constricted, and he grunted.

"Abomination," he choked. The ground erupted beneath us. A Ghoul built like an Ogre tore itself free of dirt and stone. We scattered. Drogo moved sluggishly, speed sapped by the poison. A meaty hand closed around him. Drogo howled as the abomination hefted him high. The brute slammed him down. An extra pair of arms sprouted from the abomination's neck. Long and thin, each one gripping a chipped cleaver.

"Drogo!" I cried, Torchmaw winking into my off-hand. The Draconic Pistol's thick trajectory path lined the beast's face. The Torchmaw thundered, but the shaman on the throne threw his hand forward. My bullet struck a conjured flesh disk, disintegrating as it punched through.

"No!" I surged forward. I saw the trajectory beam too late. A bone quill impacted my shoulder, sinking deep. Thashkor grinned, then three more bone spurs launched from his open palm. My sword winked away, and I ripped the bone shard from my shoulder.

"Drogo!" One of the abomination's neck-arms reared up, a trajectory arching along Drogo's throat. I couldn't track both the shaman and abomination at the same time. Needles launched at the brute with a hiss. His hands blurred, daggers cycling, as they flicked into the abomination's jaw and cheek. The beast shrieked. Drogo gasped as the massive hand released him. A hammerlike fist swung around and slammed Needles from the air. I poured a Bloodwake health potion into the bleeding pit in my shoulder.

Othess fired his Bane-Seven Repeater at the shaman, cycling one round per second. The caster shifted, catching the bolts in conjured disks of flesh, disintegrating them. Bianca appeared behind the throne. She swung around behind Thashkor, chitinous fist blurring. Crack! The shaman careened off the throne.

"Abomination, to me!" he hissed, and he ripped his hand upward. The stone split. A lance of bone snapped towards Bianca from the ground, punching like a fossilized lightning strike. The bone took her in the ribs, puncturing deep and hurling her back.

"Bianca!" I hollered. The Bane Thesis appeared in my grip. I lunged for the shaman, ready to strike.

"Cap!" Othess shouted. A massive trajectory shaft backlit me, and I barely had time to peek over my shoulder. The abomination charged at my heels. The battering ram of meat and claws moved fast enough to trigger my Trajectory Read. I kicked, redirecting myself away from the shaman. The abomination swung a cleaver. I twisted. The blade cut air beneath me. The Bane Thesis snapped out, shearing through one of the arms growing from its neck. A second trajectory path hooked back at me.

Then one of the abomination's much larger fists swung up. The world flashed, and I pinwheeled into a wall, Bane Thesis spinning away. I saw double and glimpsed Bianca pulling herself back, dumping a health potion into her side.

"Cousin!" Thashkor hissed, pointing at me.

"Crush him!" A black bolt spat through the shaman's forearm, its tip dripping black ichor. He hissed, spinning. A conjured disintegration disk barely caught the second bolt, vaporizing it. Othess knelt, maintaining a steady rate of fire. The abomination barreled at me. Corporal De La Cruz fired his Draconic Bolter rifle, blasting out one of the abomination's calves. The massive mutant slammed down to one knee. I looked around for the Bane Thesis, back and ribs smarting.

Thashkor made a claw gesture and pulled his hand down, bolt still sticking through his forearm. Skeletal arms erupted from under Othess, clawing at his legs and torso, dragging him into the ground. The abomination pulled itself back up and shuffle-skipped towards me on its bad leg. I spotted my sword and scrambled for it. A trajectory shaft lanced up from the ground. I threw myself to the side. A bone lance spat from the earth, nearly spearing me. The ground rumbled as the abomination barreled at me.

The Bane Thesis lay out of reach. So I turned to face the mutant Ghoul. My mundane saber and cutlass winked into either hand, and the blades ignited with white system light. I bobbed on my toes, landing on air platforms, hovering an inch above the ground. Aerial Combatant triggered. And I became a buzz saw. Curved blades blazed light around me, carving glaring tracks that left a figure-eight afterglow in the air. My saber deflected a cleaver, chipping a glowing notch into it and opening a path for my second blade.

My cutlass divided meat and flesh. The abomination's left arm dropped, and it screamed, but I wasn't done. I danced across Air Step platforms, leaping one way then redirecting myself in the air. My swords wove, landing a flowing six cuts across the abomination's body. My mana bar tanked. A claw arched up. I twisted. Too slow. Five lines of pain opened on my thigh as the blow jarred my focus. The abomination's second neck arm snatched my cloak, jerking me sideways before hurling me across the room.

Only air wasn't chaos. Freed from the earth's tether, I found control. I flipped, angling my boots in line with my trajectory. My feet struck an Air Step. The cuts on my leg flared as I launched right back at the mutant. Its eyes went wide. They stayed that way as its head toppled. My bad leg took the brunt of the force upon landing, and I stumbled. I caught myself, leg burning, chest heaving, and mana drained. The shaman stepped back, head shifting toward his pet's corpse.

He jerked the bolt from his forearm with a growl. I met Bianca's eyes behind him. She nodded once, side still slick with blood. We charged, closing in on him from both sides. Thashkor's teeth clenched tight. My leg flashed with pain on every impact. The Ghast's head tilted from her to me, then he jerked both hands up in my direction. A dozen trajectory shafts spat up around me, making a cone that would pierce my torso on all sides. Too late to jump! I threw myself down as twelve bone lances punched up around me.

Four different points drew blood as they raked me. And suddenly, I was caged. Sharp bones held me in place, the cone meeting at a point above my head. I reignited my swords and lurched. I didn't go anywhere. I didn't have the room to maneuver a cutting edge to bone. The cage bound my arms too tightly to my chest. Thashkor turned on Bianca, facing her alone. A ghostly blue flame flashed in his hand, and he struck. Bianca's claw ripped his veil, but the flame in his hand flashed, sending her reeling.

My body strained as I tried to shift my sword. Bianca snapped, lashing with a leathery talon. She drew tracks of black blood. Thashkor countered, blue flame flashing as he punched. She gasped, staggering to one knee. A black bolt punched into Thashkor's side. Othess breathed heavily, clothes torn and bleeding in a dozen places. He fumbled for a new magazine, but his belt held only vacant slots. Drogo leaned against the wall, too weak to move, and Needles and Roland lay motionless.

"Help her!" I shouted, pushing up against sharp bone spurs. Corporal De La Cruz slammed a new bolt into his Pyrecoil and aimed. Thashkor flexed his fingers, and ice crackled across the weapon. The marine cried out, throwing the rifle down. I dropped the swords, prying at the bones with my hands. They flexed subtly and dug into my palms. Bianca lunged. A bone spur spat from the earth, lancing her calf. She screamed as she went down. Thashkor slammed his flaming palm down. Blue fire flashed, and she slumped.

"Bianca!" Not again. Thashkor seized Bianca's throat, bone talons extending from his fingertips as they pressed into skin.

"Why do you fight us, kinsman?" he asked her. She swayed, blood dribbling from her lips. I groaned, straining to pry at the bone cage. Above, Serevian likewise fought his osteo-restraints. Something pressed into my ankle, and my eyes widened. My boot knife. Thashkor jerked Bianca around by her throat, ripping her leg from its anchor.

"You've lost, Cousin!" He grinned. He glanced up at Serevian.

"Shad hunter. Zalathor will return!" I wormed my hand down to my foot.

"The Bloodwake Giant has been right about everything!" He cackled as he dragged Bianca to the bone throne. I slipped the knife free.

"And now that your leaders are consolidated above, they step into the killing field!" I ignited my knife, sweeping it across the bars of my cage. Bones clattered, and I spilled forward. Thashkor's eyes widened, then he sat on the throne. Bones animated, enveloping him and Bianca, pulling them into the chair.

"Bianca!" I bellowed, staggering forward. The throne pulled into the ground. Bianca stirred as the bones swam around her. Her eyes widened.

"Tony—" The throne folded in on itself. I lunged. The entire structure vanished. I landed on the ground, knife gripped tight.

"Bianca, no!" I clawed at the ground, tossing stones and dirt aside. Bones overhead snapped, and Serevian dropped from his restraints.

"Come on!" I grunted, pawing at the earth. Cold sweat slicked my brow. Serevian picked himself up gingerly. He limped a step closer.

"They're not underground, Antonio!" My eyes snapped up, frenzied.

"What do you mean? Where are they?"

"That was a bone portal," he said, shaking his head apologetically.

"I'm sorry. They're gone." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 02: 00: 05: 19: 22: 34>>