“Inquisitors incoming.”
“Good. Maybe.” Arkk took a deep, shuddering breath as he leaned toward the crystal ball. “Dakka?”
The orc snorted. “Hope these guys put up a better fight than the last group. I was looking forward to knocking some heads.”
Arkk teleported Dakka and her team back to the false fortress. It would be a bit strange for them to simply return to training after being ‘invaded’ so, this time around, they were going to be ‘patrolling’ the halls. Several more orcs were ready and waiting in reserve for when Dakka’s team made their tactical retreat.
After some consideration, Arkk had decided to take Rekk’ar’s advice and make use of the orcs he had rather than throwing himself into the deep end of things on his own.
The goal was to draw the inquisitors toward the false [HEART], falling back in a losing battle the entire way. It was a delicate operation. They had to put up a fight to keep the inquisitors from being suspicious without putting up so much of a fight that the inquisitors ended up retreating and returning another day with reinforcements.
“Zullie, are you ready?”
“Beyond ready,” the witch said, eagerly peering into her own crystal ball. “I hope that purifier uses her flames against the door. I’ve always wanted to study their magic but purifiers are rare and exclusively under the church’s control.”
It had taken a few hours for the mercenaries to find the inquisitors and then another few to return. At that time, Arkk had asked John and Perr’ok to repair the false door in the entryway of the false fortress. It wasn’t quite as sturdy as the original, having been a rush job, but it should prove a big enough inconvenience that they would once again use magic to blast it down.
The inquisitors and their magic were the biggest unknowns and, therefore, the biggest danger. Forcing them to use magic in a safe and controlled environment would give them time to come up with countermeasures. Or rather, give Zullie time to come up with countermeasures. Arkk held out little hope that anything would be ready in time for this battle now but should he cross paths with the inquisitors in the future, Arkk really didn’t want to fight fire that could burn even water without protection.
At the moment, the plan was to evacuate Dakka and the other orcs the moment they came into danger. For burn injuries, they would be relying on Vezta. It wasn’t something she had a lot of experience in but Vezta claimed that she could tend to most mild burns about as well as she could tend to cuts. Apparently, in her day, warlocks were capable of performing magic that rejuvenated and healed in only a few words. It came as a surprise to her that Zullie knew nothing about healing magic.
The idea that spellcasters had known healing magic was something Zullie found similarly ridiculous. Healing magic—proper healing—was a miracle, not magic. Arkk was a bit skeptical as well given that all the healing magic he knew of came from the Light via people like Abbess Keena. Even assuming the warlocks of Vezta’s time had been able to cast such magics, Arkk figured the traitorous Light trinity would have done something to strip those powers from people who weren’t of their church.
Shoving his thoughts aside, Arkk watched the three inquisitors descend the hidden staircase and approach the false door. Darius Vrox took the lead, moving casually as if he expected little in the way of danger. He kept his hands dangling at his sides, nowhere near the short sword he carried on his hip.
The chronicler, Douglas Greesom if Arkk remembered correctly, followed after Vrox. Like Vrox, Greesom didn’t wield any weapon. The short man didn’t even have a sword. Instead, he had a small note tablet in which he was almost constantly writing. Chronicler of everything, apparently.
Purifier Agnete followed along at the rear, being the last in the group. She moved with a rigid stiffness but, unlike the last few times Arkk saw the woman, she had developed an excited twitch in her fingers. The scars and lines on her face weren’t just faintly glowing anymore either. They burned. Her eyes, rather than merely having a bright light amid her dark pupils, were blazing with a heat haze hanging over her vision.
She was gearing up for a fight.
Arkk nervously tapped his fingers against the table, wondering if he shouldn’t get Dakka out of there immediately and hope that the inquisitors thought the mercenaries had frightened everyone out of the fortress.
The mercenaries, gathered around their horse and sitting dejectedly upon a stump, had been told to stay up on the surface.
After a few minutes of inspecting the door, Vrox and the chronicler headed back up the stairs, leaving the purifier at the bottom.
“This is it,” Zullie said with a wide grin.
Red-white flames erupted around the purifier’s arms, wrapping around her body before exploding outward, setting everything on fire. Not just the door but the stone tiles and walls and even the purifier’s own clothes. The black uniform burned away in an instant, revealing the purifier’s facial scars extended across her entire body. The door collapsed into ashes, having withstood the heat only moments longer than the cloth. The metal fasteners holding it to the wall began glowing a bright red before warping and melting.
Path clear, the purifier stepped forward. Her bare feet left foot-shaped indentations of molten rock in her wake.
Two of Dakka’s black-armored orcs stood just down the corridor. They barely had time to gather their wits before the purifier swept an arm forward.
A wave of flames careened down the hall, setting the walls, ceiling, and floor alight.
“Arkk!” Rekk’ar shouted.
Arkk ripped the two orcs out of there before Rekk’ar could finish his single word, dropping them into the meeting room just a little too slowly.
An insidious heat filled the room along with pained and panicked screaming. The heat wave was hot enough that it felt like Arkk had thrown himself into a blacksmith’s forge.
Zullie was on her feet instantly, rattling off an impossibly long incantation in a mere few seconds while Ilya took off her cloak and tried to get closer to the burning armor of the orc. Tried. The heat kept her at bay until Zullie’s incantation finished and a frosty fog flooded out from her hands.
Although Zullie said that the flames could burn water, their power must have lessened outside the presence of the purifier.
Ilya moved forward once again, using her cloak to protect herself from the lingering heat on the metal armor as she worked to pry it off the orc. Rekk’ar moved up and joined her, not bothering with anything beyond his thin leather gloves.
Arkk, not needing a crystal ball to observe the goings on of the fortress, quickly realized that the part of the fortress where the purifier was standing wasn’t his fortress anymore. The purifier had broken the claim he held over the territory. Whether that was an aspect of her fire magic or a result of her destroying the tiles she was stepping on was a question he would have to ask Vezta later.
For now, he teleported the remaining orcs, bringing them straight to the meeting room.
“You know, being jerked back and forth…” Dakka trailed off as she realized just what was going on. “Holy Light… What—”
“Later. We aren’t fighting that thing. Vezta—”
“I apologize, Master. My method of healing will do little for him. Those flames are not natural fire.”
“I noticed,” Arkk hissed.
“You…” Zullie panted, letting her arms drop. The chill fog dispersed over a few seconds while she caught her breath. “You recognize it?”
“Quite so. That woman has been chosen as an avatar by the Burning Forge.”
“Let me guess, one of your Pantheon?” Arkk groaned, staring back into the crystal ball. It irked him that he had to use it. This was supposed to be his territory. The fact that his claim was being destroyed grated on him deep within in a way that he couldn’t fully articulate. “That isn’t one of the traitor’s names. Are there more you don’t know about?”
“I am… unsure,” Vezta admitted. “Its presence is perplexing, I assure you.”
“Who is the Burning Forge?” Arkk asked, watching as the purifier continued advancing, seemingly not having noticed the sudden disappearance of the orcs.
“The Burning Forge is the patron of heat, fire, craftsmanship, manufacturing, automation, and creativity.”
“I’m only noticing the first two traits on display here,” Arkk said through pursed lips. He flicked his eyes up from the crystal ball. The orc who had been hit by the flames was still alive. The fire had swept up his legs, thankfully hitting the armor first. That might have saved his legs from being completely burned off but the armor itself had melted to his skin.
It smelled like a particularly burned roast in the meeting room at the moment.
“Do you know how we counter it?”
“I do not,” Vezta said. She then pointed at her crystal ball, which was not focused on the purifier. “They might.”
Darius Vrox and Chronicler Greesom were advancing into the false fortress, following in the wake of the purifier. The flames, still burning the stone and the walls, faded just a step ahead of him. Or rather, they faded just ahead of a small marble he held out. It looked glassy and crystalline. Like a small sphere of ice.
It also floated just above his palm.
Arkk drummed his fingers on the table, trying not to be distracted by the others in the room helping the fallen orc. There wasn’t anything he could do for him at the moment. The only healing spell he knew wasn’t designed for healing. Flesh Weaving required flesh, not charcoal.
“The purifier has destroyed my territory. Otherwise, I would just teleport in behind them, blast them with lightning bolts, and take that marble thing.”
“Forgive me for asking, Master, but is this not what you wanted? They’ll march through, destroy the fake [HEART], and presumably leave afterward.”
“True,” Arkk said. Then he frowned. “If they realize we tricked them, they’ll be back. As it stands, I don’t think we can fight that purifier.” Turning, Arkk locked eyes with Vezta. “I presume you aren’t willing to leave Fortress Al-Mir?”
Vezta went utterly still, not even twitching.
“I didn’t think so. I’m not either. Strange as it might sound, this place has grown on me. I don’t think I could abandon it.”
“You cannot,” Vezta said. “The [HEART] is your heart. You cannot abandon it.”
Arkk blinked once before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “If it is destroyed… I die?”
“I believe I have said the [HEART] is your heart before.”
The phrasing did sound vaguely familiar. She had said that once or twice. Still, Arkk felt a sudden tension clench in his chest that he hadn’t felt before. “You could have communicated that a little more clearly,” he hissed, noting the flood of red light that was emanating from his eyes. “We’ll talk later. For now…” Taking a breath, Arkk spoke louder, addressing the chaotic room. “New objective, acquire that marble. If it is our protection against that fire magic, we can’t let it get away while it is so close. Next time, they might send the purifier alone and then we’ll all be screwed.”
Him especially because it sounded like he couldn’t just run.
“Any suggestions?”
The meeting room was fully staffed at the moment. More than fully staffed with the addition of Dakka’s team. Ilya and Rekk’ar were still helping the downed orc—Katt’am—who might have passed out from the pain. The employee link was still there, so he was alive. Olatt’an hadn’t gotten up when the orcs appeared, choosing to simply observe passively through Vezta’s crystal ball. Zullie was only just sitting back down, still looking spent. Khan was the only other in the room, coiled at the far end of the table and casually watching the goings on. Arkk wasn’t sure what the serpent was thinking at the moment. He couldn’t even pretend to read the gorgon’s expressions and, so far, he hadn’t said anything.
Those in a position to look at him were doing so like he was insane.
Maybe he was. The others didn’t have quite as perfect of a map of the false fortress as he did—because it was literally part of him, apparently—but they could still see the crystal balls. While the inquisitors were extinguishing flames directly in their path, they weren’t doing anything to the flames that burned down the side corridors or rooms. Even if he waited for them to pass by one of the intact areas, he would still have a wall of that cursed fire between him and that ice marble.
Ilya was the one to look up and speak. “Do what you did to the orc chieftain. Send your servants to dig a pit along their path and have them take out the floor as Vrox passes over it.”
“Possible,” Arkk said, rubbing at some of the scruff on his chin. Teleporting the lesser servants nearby, he sent a few mental commands, having them dig out a small pit as Ilya suggested. “I’d have to enter into close quarters with them. We still don’t know what Vrox or that chronicler are capable of. Not to mention we don’t know how quickly the purifier will notice that her friends are in trouble.”
Olatt’an interlaced his fingers as he set his elbows on the table. “Is there time to make the pit large enough to hold a contingent of orcs? Dakka’s contingent of orcs plus our battle ready should be able to overwhelm the inquisitors unless they have similar flames.”
“It is doubtful they do,” Vezta said. “Avatars are rare. I would be surprised if there was more than one for each of the [PANTHEON] at any given moment in time.”
“Purifiers are well known,” Zullie said. “Plural. Not saying they’re common but—”
“It doesn’t matter whether there are more outside here or not,” Arkk said, ordering the servants to create a constrained yet large fighting arena. It was a rush job but the magic of the fortress wouldn’t let it collapse on top of them. “Vrox and Greesom aren’t purifiers. They don’t have glowing scars and eyes.”
Zullie dipped her head, acknowledging the point.
“Anyone else?”
“Yeah, uh…” Dakka, helmet under her arm, shot a glance down at her downed comrade. “If that fire bitch turns around—”
“We’ll be gone before we can blink.”
“Good. Not too interested in experiencing that.”
Arkk looked at the crystal balls. The purifier was making slow progress despite there being absolutely no resistance to her advance. She wasn’t in the slightest hurry to get through the fortress. In retrospect, he should have filled the place with traps as Vezta had suggested. Though they might have fallen to ash before they could do anything. Too late now.
“I’m constructing an area to fight in shortly before the false heart chamber. A servant will eat the floor just as Vrox steps over it. We’ll be ready at the bottom. If somebody, anybody, grabs that marble, alert me immediately through the link. We don’t know what kind of abilities Vrox has so be on your guard. Any questions?”
He deliberately glanced at Khan. With the gorgon’s power, Vrox would have been stoned the moment he looked up from his fall. Then again, Vrox might realize and close his eyes before Khan could work his petrification magic. That alone would have been a victory… It just felt too easy.
His position felt precarious. Like balancing on the tip of a needle.
The gorgon didn’t speak and Arkk didn’t want to leave his gaze on the creature for long, so he broke eye contact and swept his eyes over the rest of the room. It was a quick, haphazard plan. He could already hear the chewing-out Rekk’ar would surely give him later for not having planned for something like this. Still, it was the best they had on short notice.
Very short notice.
“Unless they pick up the pace, Vrox will be over the pit in about two minutes. Everyone who can grab your gear.”
The room burst into motion. Rekk’ar and Olatt’an had to grab their weapons, as did Ilya. Dakka barked out a few orders to those of her troupe that were still standing. Arkk waited just a moment before teleporting them and the reserve force of orcs into the still-under-construction pit. Dakka could explain.
Looking down at the injured orc, Arkk grimaced. Rather than just leave him here, Arkk teleported Larry straight out of the kitchens. The butcher, holding a large knife, swung it down like he was expecting a chicken to be in front of him. Instead, it slammed down on the meeting room table.
The overweight orc blinked and looked around.
“Uh…”
“Larry, I know it isn’t your job,” Arkk said, “but we’re in a bit of an emergency. Can you help him?”
“What? I—Oh, shit. He try dancing on a charbroiler?”
“Something like that,” Arkk grumbled. “If you can’t do anything for him, just make him comfortable. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Sure, I guess I can. I… Okay.” Larry took in a deep breath, wiped his hands on his apron, and then knelt down. It was a bit awkward watching him bend over—he had only put on more weight since coming to the fortress—but Arkk didn’t have time to stick around and talk more.
Arkk teleported away along with the other members of his council—including Khan.
Arkk held his breath and glanced down at a crystal ball that popped into his hands. Three of the lesser servants were clinging to the ceiling, waiting for his command. Every other servant he had available was digging at the walls, enlarging the area to make room for the potential fight.
“Get ready, everyone,” Arkk said, watching as the purifier crossed over the servants. “Primary objective is the marble. We don’t want to kill him, if possible,” he added, still holding out hope that his original plan wasn’t a complete loss, “but do it if necessary.”
Ilya nocked her bow while Olatt’an cranked back his crossbow. Vezta repositioned in front of Arkk, ready to intercept anything coming his way. Dakka and her orcs slowly started to spread out around the hole in the ceiling of the room.
“Ready,” Arkk said, holding up a finger as he watched Vrox unknowingly approach the pitfall. “Ready…”
“Now!”