BECMI Chapter 35 – Past Misgivings
A score of people were in the basement when the moon rose and the sun fell, and Time turned as another full moon rose in the past and the crazy magicks in this building fed the loop and it rippled and warped into reality.
I ignored the curses and prayers from the Northmen as I stepped forward. “Hands on shoulders! Weapons ready!” I ordered with my typical icy calm. The hasty organization practiced three times did its job, and shields came up as arms clasped shoulders.
Without hesitation I stepped into the whorl, Buck’s hand in mine, my Gold Beacon already placed and vanished, one more blinking light across time. The white space extended forward, or backward, in front of me, and the past beckoned to me as my future.
It opened up before me, and we were off to the same place, different time…
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Six jumps later...
Lightning crashed and boomed in my face, diverted from its path, and fed itself into Dread as I let go of my Staff. The lightning warped and fed down the Lightning Rod effect, nulling and grounding itself out.
I snatched it and advanced right into the face of the young Blue Dragon, body maybe the size of a horse, that was crouched at the far end of the room as far from the Portal as possible. My Rose swirled up, seething with multiple energies on the Thorns that rose to face the deep blue of the dragon, whose instinctive rearing up in a threat display froze as she counted them, made the closest comparison, and then went absolutely immobile as I advanced without stopping until I was a mere ten feet away from her, and definitely within her threat range.
Behind me, my warband flowed out of the Portal and into a fighting formation, glowing shields up and out and shining weapons raised in a bristling hedge in front of her, gleaming with some nasty magic and ready to kill her on the spot.
She looked back and forth, her very pale blue, almost white eyes blinking. Her rising wings slowly lowered, as did her head, rather curling up on herself as she faced all of us and realized she was going to die.
“Cirruluxul?” I asked offhandedly.
Her head shot up in astonishment, staring at me. “A elf who speaks our tongue? How do you know my name?! How-” she started to demand, and my eyes narrowed, my Thorns spun and advanced preparing to impale her and reduce her flesh to jelly. She shrank back down instantly.
“Your mother mentioned that she did not know what had happened to you after you entered this place. Now, when I see her again, do I tell her that you attacked me blindly and I had to kill you, or do I return you to your family because you submitted to me?” I asked her coldly. “Make your choice. We are not wasting time here.”
She looked at the tense and ready faces, the smell of blood and battle fresh upon all of them, and prostrated herself immediately. “By your strength, I submit to you!” she admitted hastily. “May I know my master’s name?”
“I am the Lady Edge, and these men are also mine. You will treat them as clan and kin and act to save their lives as such. Now, what is above? You should have the wherewithal to have gotten past the door.”
Her head turned above. “A mated pair of manticores, Mistress!” She shifted her left wing, revealing half a dozen holes in her left wing membrane. “I was preparing to leave through the Portal rather than attempt to fight them.”
I looked left, right, and pointed. “Guyven, door. Shield team, in first. You are covering the dragon. Dragon, after the first squad. You will shout BREATHING, and then blast the manticores without catching any of your fellow travelers in the area of your lightning, or I will demonstrate my displeasure by skinning you alive and coating the shields of the men you injured with your hide. Go!”
The rake, his face much more serious now, raced right past the dragon without a second look, a ring of keys in his hand. Horn and his picked group of Frokki followed. The others formed up in squads behind me, I waved the dragon after them, and with speed and care, she padded up the stairs as Guyven popped the door and led the rush out into the kitchen.
It was tight quarters, the main eating area had room suitable for the magical beasts, who were slightly larger than the dragon was. Their roars as they heard the commotion and got to their feet out there was quite audible, but everyone knew the layout of the building intimately now, and Horn led the shield squad through the doors out of the kitchen, shields up and locked together in a v, tight and solid.
Thwoks rang out as iron spikes drove into the shields, and one man cried out as his arm was punched through on the other side of his shield, even the Magical Vestment +V on it not stopping a particularly lucky spike. Nevertheless, the line advanced and created cover for everything behind them.
The eager Cirruluxul poked her head up over the shields, shouted, “Breathing!” and she extended her jaws over and past them at the manticores there.
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Blue-white lightning flashed and dazzled in the tight quarters of the hall, slashing across both manticores, who roared and twisted away from the bolt, then charged again, their spiked tails snapping forward like whips and flinging out another volley of foot-long spikes.
As quick as she was to breathe, the dragon was equally quick to pull back and take cover behind the tight shields, where more thwoks punched into them with terrible killing force.
On both sides of her and thrusting over the top of the Shield team, the first spears slapped down and braced right into the charge of the manticores, who didn’t quite pull back in time to escape them.
“Over the top!” I ordered, Dread’s point in the shoulder of the male, both manticores screaming in rage and pain.
Guyven and Buck ran right up the dragon with four other men in leathers, across the shoulders of spears and shields holding back the claws and jaws of the manticores, and threw themselves right into the face of the manticores.
Frightened and confused by all the glowing Weapons and the incredible aggression, the manticores retreated, blood pouring from their injuries, just as the brothers led the main force around the side of the Shields and pursued hard, swords and axes raised above shining shields, and hammered into the beating wings and flank of the female first as the two manticores danced and whirled from the attacks of the swordsmen.
“Press them!” I ordered, and Sir Horn was up and leading everyone tight forward, spears preceding us down the middle as the strike team and vanguard kept the middle open. I hauled the dragon with us by grabbing one of her frill horns, and the entire team scampered forward in time with the rapid beats of Dread on the floor.
The whole line slammed into the manticores, driving them back against the wall, and spears thrust in deep into hearts and breasts. Even the dragon added her weight to the push, holding them there as they kicked and died and their final death convulsions still didn’t allow them to escape.
“Back it off. One, two, three!” Feet stepped in time, nobody stumbled, and weapons were dragged free. “Strikers, up top! Vanguard backing, Hanvol ready! Shields and spears around the dragon! Dragon on overwatch! Any wounded call it for attention! Hammer, on them!” I pulled the dragon’s head up above all of us, orienting her on the stairs and balcony above.
The men peeled off, Guyven and Buck leading the dancing feet up the stairs to go through the rooms there with speed and energy.
“My, my hoard!” the dragon wailed, glancing sideways, to where a bunch of bags and jars had been torn and broken open and scattered around.
Five men had injuries, including two Shields with spikes through their shield arms.
I could have helped, but I’d had a talk about duties and roles with Hammer Ogvier, noting that his job was to forge these men into a force strong enough to stand without him, and he needed the experience in keeping them on their feet. I could cover for any fighting and Healing that needed to be done.
He needed to be expending all of his magic every night if possible.
“Forest trolls!” someone shouted above, and there was a roar of Hanvol letting off a Burning Fan and something not human screaming in pain.
Igvild and Gruna drew back on their longbows, the two women the best archers in this band, as well as being shield maidens.
The men pulled back speedily, drawing the fight into the hallway and firming up the lines… as well as bringing the creatures into view of those in the eating area below.
Wild clashes of steel on claws accompanied a shield wall backing off under the assault of three large, long-limbed green-furred things that did look vaguely like trolls, but were much shorter.
Kech? Supposedly were found in Sidheduiche. Chased out? Hard to tell.
I swatted the dragon. “BREATHING!” she shouted, and lightning cracked and danced in blinding fury.
That was her three for the day, the limit of a dragon, but that was absolutely fine.
Another Fan of flames came blazing out of the end of Hanvol’s staff, currently thrust between the shields, and suddenly the force of men above was pressing, coming in from all sides, hacking and thrusting.
It was all over in seconds, burning corpses in scattered pieces all that was left on the carpet.
“Dump them in the midden, you three! Finish the sweep!” I ordered, gesturing a Disk into existence and Funf’s Telekinesis starting the process of stacking Cirruluxul’s treasure on it.
She turned around after blinking at the show, and saw two more Disks with heaps of loot on them, hovering at the edge of the room behind us.
“Your mother was nice to give you something to see you off with, and even prepackage it for you.” Mending spells flowed over the jars and packs, since we didn’t have materials handy we could use to make them, and the containers and bags were all fixed up.
Her hoard fit easily on two Disks, and I coolly sliced off the wing leather of the manticores to cover them over, enough rope among the Northmen’s gear to tie it all tight for her.
There was a call from above, and Bjorn poked his head around the corner. “Kech had a lair in one of clothing closets. Going through it now, Lady Edge!”
“We’re on a clock!” I reminded them. “Cirru, how hungry are you?” I asked evenly.
“I’ve not eaten in two weeks…” she admitted.
“Lascarl! Husnef! Chop off two intact hams and one turkey, make it fast! It’ll take off the edge for the dragon, we can get a full meal into her at the end of the night.”
Two of the spearmen handed off their spears and ran for the kitchen.
The all-clear on the rooms above soon sounded, and the men started coming down from above, with something approximating a new store of coins or something in their arms, which they stacked into the Disk.
“Half the till coin is missing, Lady Edge!” Gruna called out, and all the men groaned and spat in unison.
“Well, not nearly the spoils we wanted, but we are content with what we get. Where’s the dragon’s food?!”
“Coming!” The first ham, cut up into smaller steaks, was rushed out.
“Just swallow it down, you can savor the real stuff in the morning,” I told the dragon, who nodded slowly, literally holding her jaws open and swallowing as the steaks were fed into them.
“Anything else?” I called out. The clears on room, coin, Healing, and food were given. “Then we’re out of here! Cirrul, you’re following the Shields! Let’s go! The Portal awaits!”
A bit overwhelmed by how fast everything was moving, the young blue dragon nevertheless followed the very dangerous elf and the very efficient team of humans and one hyn around her as they all formed up and followed her back to the basement, and the swirling escape that was there…