BECMI Chapter 285 – Pyramid Schemes
The rise of Eismoor and the Alliance of the North had been rapid and forceful, taking place in enough secrecy and with enough speed that the empires of Siricil and Delpha had been caught completely blindsided, the nation established before they mustered the will or power to contest it, and growing with incredible speed and enthusiasm.
Seemingly heirs to the secrets of Darkmoor, they had now proven themselves extremely dangerous, indeed, although it also meant both empires were salivating for the chance to exploit such technology themselves.
The rise of an elven nation with high magic behind it was also going to raise eyebrows, even if it wasn’t as broadly powerful as Delpha’s incredible number of Overmagi. The magical Empire was right over the ocean there, and would definitely be taking a good hard look at what I was building here.
That was fine. Like Eismoor, just being able to see it didn’t mean they could replicate it. No Delphan archmage or Siricilan adventurer could possibly duplicate what I could do with Pyramids, nor the speed at which I could wield Cryptomancy to Shape stone at both incredible volumes and incredible detail.
The Northern Pyramid was up, and the Rune of Control Weather emblazoned at the top of it was triggered by Clanholder Meltharin Lyunflow even as the first cold winds were pouring down from the north. The worst of the cold weather coming was promptly pushed east, out over the ocean, where it could spend its chill on the waters, forming some shipping hazards, but the catastrophic blizzard that could have swamped all of northern Eislas ended up with a windbreak, at least in the central area.
Without pause, I embarked on making a second Pyramid, again located between the Lumina Trees of elven clanholdings, ignoring the cold and chill as the snow came down, and my Pyramids went up, and up, and up repeatedly.
Barbarian tribesman from across the northern forests were soon emigrating en masse to under the protection of the Pyramids’ Domain, as outside that area everything was rapidly being buried in snow and frozen solid. Only those who trusted my word enough and acted quickly to move under the Pyramids before the Wolf Winter hit actually managed to save their livestock, and soon enough the only areas livable in the North were under my umbrella, or little pocket realms sustained by magic, often of fey origins or ancient druidic power.
Through it all, we never took our eye off of Joklhjem, watching the waters up there rapidly freezing over and the frost giants testing the ice eagerly. As soon as the channel there froze solid enough to support their weight, they boiled out of the glacier that formed their island kingdom. Over two thousand frost giants, supported by cousin clans of ice and snow giants coming down from even further north, or pulled down from the highest and coldest of the northern mountain peaks, headed south to join the fun.
When they moved out, so did I.
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Hrafnar was a typical young frost giant warrior. He was strong, savage, willing to fight to claim a greater place in his tribe, and certainly willing to seize wealth, riches, and glory from the smaller creatures of the world in order to do that.
The inability of the giants to move easily across the icy channel that separated them from Eislas had curtailed much of their raiding. The barbarians there made a point of burning and sinking what ships the giants made, and any vessels of ice would not last more than a season, while proving very vulnerable to the flames the barbarians and elves were very happy to unleash on the giants.
But now he was moving across a plain of solid ice over ten miles wide, the very ocean frozen under by the icy winds howling down from out of the utter north, the savage cold energizing and empowering the Jotuns moving out over the frozen channel in their warbands even now.
Powered by the blizzards that seemed to rage every other day, the ice was thick and firm, and had no problem bearing the weight of the frost giants, the warriors being well-experienced in judging the strength and firmness of ice. They had no reservations as they strode across the Frostjar Channel and towards the riches that awaited them far to the south.
The humans and other smaller races would not have the slightest idea as to what was coming, Hrafnar thought confidently. The shamans had made sure the giants could march under a clear and cold sky today, although the wind picked up the snow and fine ice and made the sky a fractured thing of wind-driven crystals and harsh sunlight under a chill that could freeze a human alive in mere minutes.
There was nothing stopping them from what might be one of the most legendary raids to ever come out of Joklhjem, and he was part of it!
Thoughts of glory in battle, of cleaving through hapless little folk who barely came up to his thighs, then looting them of precious metals and ironwork and the fruits of the land they’d stored away against the winter, drove him on with urgency. Only the stern examples of the clan chiefs kept many of the semi-berserker clansmen from breaking into excited runs towards the far shore, eager to begin the long overland trek to the Twin Lakes and the Landsplit River, doubtless also frozen over at this time.
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Wealth and glory lay before him, wrought in the bone and blood of the weak little folk who-
The momentous stunning crack was the only warning he had, as something exploded through the surface of the ice directly beneath him.
Hrafnar went flying backwards under the heaving of the ice as something tall and black burst through the ice and sent all near it tumbling as it did so. It was an event repeated down the whole length of the frost giant army, huge pillars of carved stone blasting through the ice and the waters beneath it abruptly, forming a line of sorts from east to west right through the middle of the Joklhjem army.
Hrafnar did not know what to expect, but his roar of “Witchcraft!” was answered with “Vile sorcery!” “Cowardly wizardry!” “Elven trickery!” and similar disparaging calls as the frost giants paused in their advance to look more closely at what had risen among them.
The black stone looked to have been formed from the bottom of the sea, grainy and dense. Runework was carved all over the dark stone, though the obelisks looked to be all of one stone, work worthy of being done by the giants themselves in how it towered a hundred feet above them and the tallest of their servants. The few white dragons who accompanied them, long-time pets and ‘hounds’ of the giants, the largest even able to serve as mounts if needed, wheeled above, wondering what to make of the line of black obelisks thrust out of the sea.
Then the first layer of Runes lit up with cold blue-white arcane fire, seething with a restrained power that forced away the eyes of giants, wondering what could be happening. Still, they did not run, the bravest of them even advancing to get within range of an axe, while the first boulders were hurled out in response to the activation of the magic.
Those boulders bounced off the obelisks and went hurtling back twice as fast as they’d come. The startled giants who threw them instinctively tried to catch them, but few managed, as the rocks were moving at incredible speed, and in many cases smashed those throwing them originally right off their feet when their own boulders hit with overwhelming force.
Striking the pillars personally meant trying to scale a wall of broken ice thirty feet high heaped up thickly around the base of the pillars. The giants went to work enthusiastically, ice flying as they hacked into the frozen mess, aiming to get at the black stone.
The next layers of Runes lit up, and there was a flash of blue-white light, a near-solid wave of it exploding out from each Obelisk and pushing away the closest giants irresistibly, while pulsing and growing when it struck another Obelisk nearby. In but a heartbeat, waves of energy were washing back and forth between the Obelisks, filling up the last layer of Runes quickly.
Hrafnar flailed at the wall of energy nearest him, but only felt a cold electricity running over and through his arm without harm. “Hah! Mere tricks that will not bar a jotun from their path!” he announced, stepping directly into the flow of energy proudly. Cold lightning seemed to play over his armor and crackle on his hair, making it stand out from his head, but not actually doing any harm.
Laughing at the display, the giants scornfully awaited the filling of the Runework, certain that nothing could possibly stop them as liquid arcane fire crawled down the length of the stone, filling in Rune after Rune towards completion, a steady, inexorable advance that nothing interrupted, because they could not. It poured down towards the water, behind the skirt of shattered upthrust ice surrounding each Obelisk, glowing through the fractured crystals. The Obelisk lit up dangerously from within them, looking like each pillar was now surrounded by a glowing cone of light within the ice.
The pulses traveling from east to west and back stopped so quickly abruptly. The giants blinked, as one single pulse flared between all the Obelisks at once, and then fell down into the ice.
Into and out of it, and through it.
In an instant, massive Runes glowed underneath their feet, inside the ice, symbols of power hundreds of feet in size, radiating up and out beneath them.
Hrafnar’s courageous bluster soon sobered up as he abruptly realized that something very bad was about to happen. He turned, and sprinted for the edge of the magic.
Some of the wiser and more cautious giants did the same, but only those nearest the edges had a chance.
There was one more pulse from the Obelisks, all of them at the same time, and this time it expanded out from them in concentric rings.
The Runes flared, and exploded the ice from within.
Howling frost giants were sent hurtling through the air as the ice shattered in and around them, blown apart from within. Hrafnar was sent flying forty feet into the air, the ice shattering like brittle glass and throwing him skywards as it did, but even as he was somersaulting, he saw something even more horrifying.
An icequake, moving across the now-broken surface of the ice, a great wave of force spreading in all directions. It was heaving all of the ice up and out and over, tearing the safe, thick ice of the Eislas Channel into shattered remnants that in no way could support one of the frost giant!
He hit the ground just before the icequake hit him, and was promptly launched away again as the ice flipped underneath him, heaved up and over and down as screaming giants scrabbled and clawed for handholds, and remembered that when moving across water in full armor, they, like humans, couldn’t swim so readily...
Most of the Joklhjem raiding force went into the cold and salty waters of the channel. The ice closed over and above them as their garb of mail and furs dragged them down, making it difficult to swim at all, while the blowing wind rapidly compressed and stacked the ice up above them, making it nigh-impossible to get back up through it, while the steady current kept wanting to force them east, east, under the unbroken ice as cursing frost giants struggled to get their armor off while holding their breath as long as they could. Weapons were discarded, clothing torn away, and then they swam with all their might trying to find a clear area to break through.