Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 26

It wasn’t difficult to defeat the animated weapons and shields so that I could land at the opening of the cave. A few strikes of low-level lightning bolts shattered the copper into smoldering pieces. Most dungeons I had entered had a hall or foyer that was devoid of traps or enemies, usually with some sort of warning. This one didn’t, but I simply assumed that it was due to my spell cutting the dungeon in half. 

It made me curious as to what might happen to the other half. Were dungeons like worms that could regrow from broken sections? I took my tome out and began writing down questions I had that required further experimentation. Then I frowned as I recalled the two enormous monsters fighting to the south, snapped my book shut, and put it away. 

I gazed further into the darkness of the tunnel before me and asked myself if this was the best use of my time. How many lives might be lost by adventuring here instead of returning to my tower to further prepare for the coming Pestilence? Could I even prepare a weapon powerful enough to defeat either the Tervan blood god or the hydra broodmother if I had enough time? What if I accepted a new Authority? 

I had a suspicion that choosing another elemental would also open the adjoining spells. Learning fire would open magma spells or water would open mud. What was I doing adventuring at a time like this? I shook my head and turned away but something sticking out of a broken spear shaft caught my attention. Mana crystal. Why would the enchanted weapons require mana crystals as a power source if they were dungeon creatures? That didn’t make sense. 

I looked closer, and also saw death crystals in the remains, some with souls still trapped inside. That explained the air of necromancy I felt, but it didn’t make sense either. I began to sift through the parts and pieces of these animated copper weaponry, and I could see the tell-tale signs of hand-wrought enchanting work. These things weren’t dungeon creatures at all! Someone had made them! Was this a crypt of some long-dead enchanter? If so, the knowledge it held might be useful in the coming battles. 

With renewed enthusiasm, I shifted my attention back to the dark tunnel and prepared myself for a dungeon dive. Additional wards for exotic attacks, my flight spell exchanged for a levitation one, recasting my invisibility spell, adding new layers to my existing wards that prevented magical fear or charm, and more. Even a new defensive ward that would respond to magical attacks with my nullifying lightning, a reminder of the three dead blood mages above. 

I had lost my friend Ram to a dungeon monster in the time it took to blink an eye, and I had entirely too many responsibilities and burdens to lose myself the same way. Only when I felt completely prepared, did I proceed. 

The first tunnel I traveled down contained numerous more enchanted weaponry, just like the ones I destroyed above, but I was more cautious now. I pulled at the walls of the tunnel and created barriers of soft earth that hardened when pierced, entrapping the enchanted weapons inside. A few went into my bag of holding after I carefully removed the death crystals. 

The swords were of a thick curved blade that had no guard. Their handles were hollow and filled with a cylindrically cut mana crystal, with a death crystal mounted on the pommel. From the enchantments, it looked like the mana crystals drew mana from the air and the trapped souls inside the death crystals which directed the movement. The shields and spears were constructed similarly. 

I was an hour or so into the tunnel, using a light spell to find my way when I came across the first deviation. Instead of the three types of weapons I normally saw, the entire tunnel was covered with throwing knives. The light from my spell glimmered off bunches of them as they scrambled about in groups. The clinging or chiming when they touched created a chaotic noise, and I just watched on in amazement. There were hundreds—no, thousands—of them! All in this one hallway. 

Of course, that made them easy to trap. I simply softened the earth around them and hardened it back when they touched it. Beyond the sheer number of them, it was also interesting to see that I could recognize the type of creature bound to the death crystal: rats. The movements when they moved, the way the tip quivered when it held still, it was clear to me that they were rats. Then, upon considering the age of the things, I recognized that it may be the spirits of some animal precursor to rats. 

The style of weapons, the enchantments, and the use of spirits all spoke to me that this was a cavern from a previous age. I had been in a few, but most of those known across Sena had already been explored. I was the first to discover this tomb, and if there remained a single scroll on enchantment or necromancy here, then it could advance my knowledge in those subjects tenfold! 

A few more miles of tunnel led me to another type of enchanted creation. This one was a suit of bronze armor, full plate, though the size of it was too short. The height was barely to my waist, but the length of the halberds they carried were a man’s height. Still, nothing that could escape being trapped within walls of stone and hardened earth, but the enchantments within were even more complex. I only took two of these for future examination and noted that the stylistic designs on the outside didn’t match any of the five kingdom’s art styles.

The tunnel carried on for miles in such a way, with odd turns that led down deeper into the earth.  The twists and turns looked as though they were carved out by primitive hand tools, with no worry as to aesthetic. It made me wonder if I would be coming upon an enchanted pickax or shovel soon. I was certain it had turned to nighttime when a came to a large open cavern, bit enough to house my reflection lake inside. 

My weeks-long journey made me miss sitting on my tower-top as sipping wine as the sunset. It was the type of habit that help me to relax and calm myself when my thoughts grew too jumbled. 

Yet, my lake wasn’t here. What was here was an uneven cavern that dipped in the center like a valley. Water dripped from stalactites in little rivulets into a shallow stream at the bottom of the valley. Here was the first place I had seen light other than my own as I traveled, and it came from low burning fires on either side of the cavern.  I had seen the lights as I approached and dimmed my own until it was nothing so as not to be noticed myself.  

Those fires revealed two villages of goblins, one to either side of the cavern, and I used my magic to float up towards the ceiling to take the sight in. I wasn’t certain what I had been expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. The design and make of the weapons and armor were much more well-crafted than anything I had ever seen made by goblin hands. The enchantments as well, much more complex than any spells I had seen a goblin cast.

It made me wonder how this group of goblins came to be. I had heard stories of dark elves that lived deep beneath the world, creatures of shadows and whispers, but I had assumed that those elves weren’t affected when the gods cursed my kind to their goblin forms. The questions that drove me so far beneath the surface seemed to compound here, as I watched on. Inside the villages, there were pens of rats. A goblin would pick one from the pen with his hands, heedless of biting and scratching, and bring it to a long table or alter to kill it. On that alter was only a sacrificial dagger made of stone and a handful of tiny death crystals. It confirmed my suspicion that the daggers acted like rats. 

The more I watched, the more details I took in. Each goblin wore a death crystal tied to their arm, belt, or about their neck. Those crystals were larger, the size of the crystals used as the pommel of swords or the counterweight on the spears. 

Yet, it wasn’t peaceful in these two villages, instead, they seemed to be in the midst of an ongoing feud. Warriors from each side would dart across the stream at the bottom of the cavern and ambush warriors from the other side. Or kidnap what I assumed to be goblin women. The goblin children weren’t protected from this, either, and I saw more than one cut down or grabbed as well.

Despite the ongoing violence, I saw goblins that grew mushrooms, goblins that sharpened stone tools, goblins braiding rope from hair, and all manner of normal activities. Other goblins, tattooed with strange pictograms, moved among them untouched. Their sole duty seemed to gather the dead.

It was only when three goblin shamans stepped forth from the tunnel on the other side of the cavern that all activities halted. Three figures, each wearing armor made of bones and leather, their faces tattooed in poor designs, carried a woven basket in one hand and a staff in the other. From what I could make out, each staff was also made of bone and leather with a death crystal cut in the shape of an orb on the top.

Those three shamans went about their business collecting the filled death crystals and little else. When they departed, most of the other goblins continued their work as nothing happened, but the tattooed ones lifted the dead bodies and followed behind.  My focus was no longer on them or any but the magic users. Where were those shamans headed? I followed along, ignoring the renewed movements and noises of the goblin villages below.

First, through several twisting tunnels that branched out in unusual ways. Goblins toiled in these tunnels as well, mining copper ore and mana stones from the walls with tools of stone and bone, and placing them in woven baskets. A procession of goblins carrying these heavy stone baskets formed behind the shamans, mixing in with those that carried bodies, as they all walked forward. 

Strangely enough, it was a silent procession. I suspected it might be religious in nature, but I had never seen goblins worship anything that wasn’t a twisted idol or monstrosity. If that was the case here, I didn’t know. I had never suspected that anything they worshiped might be intelligent. What intelligent being would want the worship of goblins? The elder wyvern I had seen came to mind. It wouldn’t, but if a creature like that existed, then perhaps another ancient beast might. Yet, I found that difficult believe. Even if they did worship a beast, what beast enchanted weapons?

The next chamber that we came to was a stone bridge, roughly cut, that passed over a large cavern. I marveled when I looked over the side and saw that the cavern was completely filled with the standing suits of armor. Suits just like the enchanted ones I fought earlier. It was several armies’ worth of suits of armor, all precisely the same. These were enchanted as well but stood unmoving in the darkness. 

The goblins paid them no mind, and I only looked down appreciating the work it took to craft for a moment before I carried on.

On the other side of the bridge, the tunnel continued, leading to an unusual room. The walls here were cut with more precision, and the floor was flatter, even if I didn’t land to test it. Inside the room, the walls broadened to either side, and three things immediately attracted my attention. 

The first was the large pool of stagnant blood in the very center of the room. The goblins passed it by with nervous glances as they went about their business. 

Bodies of the dead were tossed into a shallow pit on the left, sloshing onto piles of other decomposing corpses. Around it grew other death crystals in numerous small, jagged spikes. Two other shamans stood to either side of the pits, both harvesting and cutting death crystals. 

On the right, lit forges burned brightly, the heat strong enough that I could feel it through my wards. Around those forges, the skeletons of ogres or trolls worked the metal or fashioned the blades, a beautiful working of necromancy. Stone bins were nearby and the goblins dropped mana stones in one and death crystals in another before retreating to the center of the room.  

There an elderly shaman, the sixth one I had seen and apparent leader of the group, sliced the forearms of each goblin before it was allowed to leave. Those injured, held their arms over the pool, dripping blood into it, before departing. The three shamans that had brought the filled death crystals joined the other two by the pit of bodies, and all began continued to harvest and cut the crystals. 

There were so many novel sights here that I wanted to observe, but the most novel of all were the double doors on the opposite end of the room. Those doors carried the same markings as the armor being crafted, and I was sure that whoever or whatever enchanted the armors and weapons was behind them. Did they work for the goblins or did the goblins work for them? Were they a prisoner held captive or a commander?

I had yet to feel the flows of mana I had come to associate with a dungeon core, but I felt them now. Not nearly as strong as I suspected, but that dungeon core was also behind the door. That was what I had come for, overtly. I considered turning back now. There were miles of tunnel behind me, and I hadn’t slept. It might not be best to challenge the last room of a dungeon in my condition. Yet when one of the skeletons stopped crafting weapons and gathered up an armload of spears for delivery, I swiftly followed behind. 

I wasn’t disappointed.

When I entered, I found myself face-to-face with an enormous suit of armor. Polished bronze of a size that would stand half my tower tall. From the inside edges of the open faceplate, I could see the metal plates were at least a hand’s width thick. A small dungeon core rested in the center of the breastplate, and spiral engravings adorned every inch of the thing. I could feel the layers and layers of enchantment it had been built with, though those enchantments were inlaid to the inside of the armor and I would need to take it apart to find them. 

The entire left side of the room was taken up with shelves and tables, the shelves filled with scrolls. Those scrolls looked to be made of goblin skin, and the handles were carved from bone. It would have seemed gruesome had I been anywhere else, yet I hadn’t seen any other good materials for parchment nearby. The right side of the room was glowing with an advanced enchantment, a spiraling pattern that circled the disc embedded in the wall. A disc made entirely out of a singular piece of carved mana crystal. While I couldn’t tell the particulars, it appeared as if this disc was the commanding authority for the army of enchanted armor a few chambers behind me. 

While everything in the room called to me to investigate, I was wary. I had been too overconfident in coming to Tervan and paid the price when the snake god had induced a controlled state on me. It was several long moments that I waited, but my wariness was rewarded. I began hearing tiny, tiny noises coming from the enormous suit of armor, noises that grew louder for a moment until it culminated in a squeal of metal on metal. 

The back of one of the legs opened up, and the small man-shaped monster that emerged was something I had never seen before. He was the size of a goblin, with pale white skin and pointed ears. Red irises darted around the room and he sniffed the air. Was this one of my dark-elven cousins? Were they of such diminutive size? Perhaps the confines underneath the earth made a smaller size an advantage and they purposely bred themselves for this form?

Then, the figure spoke, though I didn’t understand the words. The words were clipped and seemed to string together. I considered dropping my invisibility and revealing myself. Trying to negotiate a dialogue between us. I didn’t recognize the language, but perhaps he spoke mine as well.  Yet, before I gave away a potential defense, I cast my [analyze] spell.

Name: Crylus

Species: Vampiric Gnome

Classes: 6th Tier Sanguine Potentate of Necromantic Rituals / 4th Tier Enchanter Lord

A sixth-tier class! I had no idea what the strength of this individual was, but I no longer had any desire to stay and investigate. Especially because as soon as I cast, his eyes darted to where I floated. I slowly floated to the side, to see if they would follow, but thankfully they didn’t. 

After a moment, he walked to a table and dipped his fingers into a cup I hadn’t taken notice of. Those fingers then flicked the blood into the air, where it formed a rune and he cast a spell I hadn’t heard before. 

“Perhaps you can understand me now, elf-blood?” Crylus asked, his voice sounding smooth and harmonic. I noticed his eyes were magical as well, somehow attempting to pass through my wards to charm me even though he hadn’t even seen me. “It had been a long time since I have conversed with anyone else. I will not take offense to your intrusion if you grant me news of the world. This, I swear on the Seat of Blood, whichever god now holds that throne.”

The vampiric gnome, whatever that was, carried himself in a regal manner. His clothing was made of the tanned skin of goblins but despite it. Short, curly dark hair rested atop his head, and I could see that only his time inside the suit of armor had left it in disarray. 

“Of course, I can also seal the door until you starve. Or chase you until your heart bursts should you manage to flee. The choice is yours. Will you treat with me in a civil manner or are you of the wild-bred elves?” 

I wasn’t certain of his meaning when he said wild-bred elves, though it sounded like it was intended as an insult. Yet, despite the unusualness of his barbed question, I knew I no longer had a choice in the matter. It wasn’t the threat of sealing me in or of chasing me to my death. If I could escape, I doubted he could track me. Not when his home would be under siege by the pestilence in a matter of days. 

No, what truly moved me to action was his question. I couldn’t allow anyone to ever claim I was uncivil. I would not have my name tarnished in such a manner. The very idea was preposterous, and I couldn’t accept anything measure less than dignified should I be described! 

Without further hesitation, I dropped my invisibility spell and floated to the ground. There, I bowed slightly, a greeting of one equal to another. “Greetings. I do apologize for being too forthright in entry into your home. I hope to take you up on your offer. My name is Nemon Fargus, wizard, researcher, teacher, and, unfortunately, Alderman. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

We spoke at length, for several hours on all assorted topics. I proved a few articles of clothing from my bag of holding, and he marveled at their make. I recounted the histories to him, and he was outraged that it was the ninth age. 

When I spoke of my life among humans, and how pained I felt at outliving them, Crylus laughed! He claimed to have been born in the fourth age, the age of spirits, and while I didn’t believe it at first, his recounting of the time changed my mind. We discussed the use of dungeon cores, and he showed me the enchantments he used on his masterpiece while I showed him my Illustrious Core-Touched Mana Fountains, though he claimed he didn’t have the need of such artifacts, his eyes said otherwise.

Crylus spoke of being punished by his former master when his enchanted swords and armors failed in battle against a revolt of snake-men slaves. Of being imprisoned in a coffin sealed with enchanted silver chains to be buried for two centuries. Two centuries that had turned into uncountable millennia, to be freed not by his master but the effects of time as the strength of the chains failed.  He told me that he had spent the last eight hundred years rebuilding his army hundreds of times larger and stronger. I didn’t speak of how easily I defeated them, and he never asked. 

As the conversation slowed, I told him of blood magic and the kingdom above him. Of the coming Pestilence and how I had seen the Tervan’s blood god begin to battle—to which he laughed in excitement and claimed that if that god fell, then he could claim the seat for himself. I had nothing to say to that, and his eyes had grown wilder and wilder the longer we spoke. The silence after his statement stretched on for several uncomfortable moments before he looked at me and made me an offer I hadn’t expected.

“You are the first person I’ve truly spoken with in such a long, long time. You’ve brought news, and I will release you, but I want to ask first. If I offered you immortality by my side, would you join me?”

There was a desperation in the tone of his voice, one that I didn’t fail to recognize. I had felt lonely above, surrounded by intelligent humans whose only fault was that they didn’t live long enough. How must he have felt these past centuries alone, with only goblins to speak with? I was looking for a partner, someone to stay by my side, but I was also wary. He had spoken of a master, one who held power over him, and I suspected that he would have such power over me. 

“I am truly sorry, but I must decline,” I told him in an apologetic voice.

“There is a way. If you allow me to drink your blood, I can leave you with a few drops of mine, should you change your mind,” He offered with a smile and a very hungry look. 

I was no fool, though. I certainly wasn’t going to allow any sixth-tier master of blood, necromancy, and rituals to have a single drop of my blood. I did give it due consideration. If his blood held power, even if I didn’t drink it, then I could test it to see if there was anything I could learn to apply to my own [Longevity] spell. I doubted it, as his body wasn’t living the way I desired. I took a breath and grimaced as I began to answer.

That was when he lunged.