The steamy air of the heating duct pressed against Pemmin’s skin. Her turned over; trying to find a more comfortable position .He needed to get some sleep. Raiding labs was hard work. They had freed a total of three elves so far. It had been three months.
"Stop rolling around, wizard!" snarled Bough, one of the fugitives. The elves treated Pemmin like some kind of semi-intelligent beast of burden… except they wouldn’t yell at animals. Pemmin gritted his teeth. He could probably leave if he really wanted to, but helping the elves had its advantages. For instance, the elves knew how to avoid the slivers, who had taken over nearly all of the vents in the Project. Pemmin dozed fitfully, listening to the whispered conversations of the elves.
Councilor Denoctie glared across the table. He was one of the most brilliant diplomats that Riptide had, but no trained diplomat could talk Captain Zercis for more than a minute without needing a break. "Why do want Daru’s help?" said the soldier again. It was all that he had said for the last hour. The Captain was a scarred-faced man who had been in some of Daru’s iest wars. He didn’t hold with diplomatic games. The only reason he had agreed to come was because he was a friend of Denoctie’s.
Denoctie grimaced. " We have been having some problems."
"Really? I thought you might have needed dancing partners."
"Of course, you are right, we can’t tell our left feet from our right, perhaps your soldiers could lend us a hand?"
Zercis put his mug down slowly. Denoctie’s tongue was a bit too quick for his tastes.
"Daru may or may not decide to consider your request in the future" He leaned over the table and growled, "But I can tell you why we’re going to tell you to stuff it up your…" Zercis took a moment to consider the political waters, "…robes for now, Denoctie."
He bared his teeth. "You have been capturing our soldiers again, and performing ‘tests’ on them."
"We only capture those who attack our envoys, Zercis. This is a fact that was explained to you at some length the last time you were here, I believe."
Zercis slammed his hand down on the table.
"Lies! What happens when they learn what happens to the ones that attack? You will still need subjects for your tests I presume!"
Denoctie raised one white eyebrow. Zercis stood up.
"I’m afraid the wizards have placed them selves above everyone for too long, Denoctie. I’ll show myself out."
Denoctie sighed. He had not been hopeful in the case of Daru, but he had expected something other than an outright refusal. Well, at least the wizards had begun to see things clearly. His secretary stepped deftly into the room and started to tidy the small chaos caused by Zercis’ outburst. Denoctie leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, "See if you can get a envoy from Wirewood to come." He said to the secretary. "We might as well know the full extent of our lack of options."
The committee to eradicate the sliver infestation was wading through dark, smelly pipes once again. Lerief’s team usually only responded to attacks these days, what with their badges being wired to all the wizards in the entire Project. These calls were kept to a near-manageable level by the remaining control slivers, which stopped most of the attacks. Oddly enough, it had been eerily quiet all day, so they had gone hunting in the sewers. All of the wizards on the committee had gotten very good at fighting slivers in three months. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, some of them were . The slivers now occupied almost all of the airways of the project, and had presences in all of the buildings. As a result, the committee had gained considerable sway over politics in the Project. The entire sliver department of the project was now under their jurisdiction. Lerief was on the verge of calling for an evacuation; the slivers had already claimed about a hundred wizards. He would have called one much earlier if it hadn’t been for very convincing arguments by the Queen. He wiped the sliver goo from his hands, and waited for his underlings to sever the corpses' heads. He checked his supply of spell holders. He was running low. They all had to carry a variety of spells these days, or the slivers would simply adapt to the spells they had. Suddenly the sliver badges glowed brilliant red. Lerief closed his eyes and played a burst of violet light into his special badge, reading the information. He opened his eyes.
"Finish up, boys. It’s one of our esteemed cephalid masters."
The group doubled its speed. The group lived in fear of slivers these days, being the only wizards to truly understand the threat they posed. They lived in greater fear of Lerief however. The only thing that kept them at Riptide was the fact that they found Lerief to be much more frightening than slivers. He had that effect on people these days.
His hair had gone from ginger to pure white. His eyes had gone from dark blue to black. Whispered rumors said that it was because of all the dark magic he used to battle the slivers. Other rumors said he had done it on purpose. The wizards finished and pulled out their special water spells.
Lerief led the way to the Cephalid apartments, growing black; oozing gills as he went.
Captain Zercis paced his room. There was something amiss here. Nothing would make him happier than to just walk away, and leave the wizards to their fate. And yet… The wizards were usually complete idiots, willing to sell their souls away rather than ask for help. Something very big was happening, and Zercis wanted to know what.
Zercis’ hand flew out and deftly stabbed the sliver. He studied the creature for a moment, then threw it on the ground. Zercis was a militaristic man, but he knew when not to hang around. He signaled his personal guard.
"Round up the rest of the guard, we leave at once."
The elves always slept for a maximum of three hours. This did not work well with Pemmin’s sleeping habits. "Today we will free another of our people, big wizard, and you will tell us were we will find him" said Burdock. It was not a request or even a demand. It was just a statement. Pemmin looked blearily at the ragged map in front of him. The problem was that none of the wizards ever bothered with maps, they just learned where to go and that was were they went. This made it so that few wizards were interested in accurate maps. This one had about seven definitively marked areas, and also had several major design flaws. Like leaving out building one.
"Well I don’t know if…" All of the elves suddenly froze. Pemmin took the opportunity to do the same.
"The slivers are moving."
The elves had an argument that seemed to last for hours. Pemmin used this time to try to catch up on sleep. He was hauled up by his hair without warning. "We will find one more elf, wizard. Then we will leave."
Pemmin tried to argue, but the elves were already on move.
The committee to eradicate the sliver infestation entered the airlock leading into building two, growing webbed toes and gills. Humans were not normally allowed inside the cephalid apartments, but this would be considered a special case. It had been the last three times. They hadn’t really been punished for times before that either. The specially treated water began to gurgle in to the chamber. Two slivers came through also. The battle was quick and easy, but it worried Lerief a little that the sliver had made themselves so hard to hit .It took a lot to worry Lerief these days. The stone door finally ground upwards, and the wizards looked into the Cephalid apartments. The water was clouded with swirls of dark blue Cephalid bl0od and violet sliver bl0od. Several bodies drifted through the murk. Two of the wizards added vomit to the mix. Lerief looked down at his badge; a pale arrow pointed to the right. He pushed two spiny bodies away, only to find them push back. Casting spells in the water was an art you soon got used to.
Zercis’ guards were some of the finest soldiers on the plains. As a result, only three of them had died so far. The creatures appeared to have seized the entire facility, and were roaming the halls. Zercis started to clean his sword, and then gave up. Whatever these creatures were they were devilish enough to take out three of Daru’s finest. "How long will it take us to get to the docks." He asked his subordinate.
"At this rate?"
"Well?"
"Three hours."
Zercis stared at his bl0ody sword.
Damn wizards.
"Double time men."
The lab was silent. Pemmin strode over to the cages on the far wall.
Finally.
The last three labs had been completely devoid of any prisoners. A female elf stared uninterestedly at a point several inches above his head. She was obviously in the final stages of research. Pemmin decided that beggars couldn’t be choosers. The lock had been designed to discourage petty thieves, not experienced wizards. The elf gave little resistance as Pemmin pulled her to her feet. The elves had stayed at the entrance to the room. It had seemed to Pemmin that they had taken an incredibly roundabout way to get to this lab. He knew better than to question the elves. The door to lab creaked open. A pointed beak poked in. Pemmin froze. He had learned that slivers depended on things besides sight. A second beak pushed itself in. Wonderful, thought Pemmin, two of them. He pulled the elf close to him very slowly and whispered, "When I tell you, you must run for the vent on the wall, and get inside." The , who Pemmin decided could not be older than eighteen, focused her slivery eyes on him for an instant. In that instant Pemmin found his entire existence being torn apart, read, and filed behind those eyes. The sliver slinked into the room... it had two heads. The spoke, but her eyes were now far away.
"How will you save your people, Pemmin?"
The sliver’s heads whipped around, and the sliver made a tremendous sucking noise. Pemmin slowly pulled out a much-used spell holder. The chuckled mirthlessly, her eyes studying something in another plane.
"How will you save yourself?"
The water-slivers were proving more difficult than before. How could they mutate by themselves? They had already lost a wizard. They were getting closer; the arrow was blinking feverishly now. Another ornate stone door blocked their path. Lerief motioned half of the wizards to the opposite side of the door. The wizards checked their spell-holders, then gave the ready. The door opened soundlessly. A strange tableau greeted the wizards’ eyes. In the center of the floating graveyard of this meeting room, a group of cephalid survivors stood in a circle. Slivers with strange blue patterns converged on them, swimming like leeches. Among the group were Nemian, Caprious, and many other senior Cephalids stood. They didn’t rise to the top for nothing. "Look who’s here." Said Nemian nastily, firing a bolt at a wriggling sliver, "Have other, more pressing matters?" The water made any replies impossible, though Lerief would be unlikely to give any. The slivers noticed the new group, and decided to see if they were easier to . The swirls of bl0od formed a tiny whirlpool in Lerief’s palm, coming closer and closer to the center. Lerief grinned for the first time in weeks; black magic was the only thing that made him feel alive these days. Three of the slivers became bits of bone. All of the wizards fired their spells. The slivers didn’t last long while caught in the crossfire. Nemian swiftly jetted from the room, taking Lerief with him.
"You will escort us to the docks."
Lerief’s face showed no comprehension.
"We have to stay with the project, sir."
"There isn’t anyone left in the project!" Lerief glanced at his badge. It was devoid of any glow.
"Fool!" I had those badges tuned only to Cephalids for the last twenty-four hours! Lerief showed no sign of surprise. Nemian leaned close to the wizard.
"The control slivers are all . All of the Cephalids were planning on leaving as soon as possible, but we were…surprised."
The rest of the wizards, cephalids and humans alike were now in the hall leading to building one.
The cephalid began to sidle down the hall. "It’s a shame that the builders of this Project never made any sea access besides at the docks, but we will have to do what we can, eh?"
"And my men?"
"Hop on a ship, I don’t care."
Lerief saw nothing else he could do. He faked a bow and said, "At you service, lord."
The soldiers marched at a fevered pace towards the docks, cutting down all monsters in their path. It had been quiet for a little to long in Zercis’ opinion; usually they were attacked every ten minutes. I had been about twenty since the last attack. It either meant that the slivers were not interested in this area, or something else was occupying their attention. They found what had been so interesting when they turned the next corner. The human members of the leading council had made a stand against the slivers. There was one survivor.
"I should have guessed you would take care of yourself, Denoctie."
"I would have guessed the same for you, Zercis."
"Care to join us on an ocean voyage, councilor?"
"A change of scenery will probably do wonders for my health, Captain."
The elves didn’t need any encouragement to run. They were up and sprinting down the vent seconds after Pemmin hurtled in, carrying the new addition to the group. They left Pemmin to huff and puff behind them.
When they came to a junction, Burdock halted the group.
"Take us to the docks wizard."
"The docks? Why?"
"To steal a ship!" Burdock held up a hand to silence him a listened. She turned on Pemmin, her face a rictus of fury.
"They are hunting us! What did you do?" Pemmin spluttered indignantly.
The elves ran toward the docks.
Four groups arrived at the docks nearly simultaneously.
The water at the docks was thick with flotsam. The water moved disturbingly, as though something powerful was moving in it. Four parties looked disbelievingly at the water. One group consisted of several feral looking elves and a rather scruffy man. Another had a small group of professional looking soldiers, and two old men, one rangy, one plump and overbearing. A third group mostly consisted of frightened wizards. The fourth and last group was mostly Cephalids, led by a squad of angry wizards, spell-holders at the ready. The groups glared at each other. Spell sticks rose.
"Wait!"
Denoctie hurried forward to the mid-point and made beckoning motions to the four groups. Four people stepped forward.
The hurried negotiations were not going well. On a whole, none of the parties felt the least bit inclined to submit to another. Except, of course for one of them, the group of wizards represented by a young fellow by the name of Callow. They were of the opinion that there is strength in numbers. All of the survivors were looking extremely worried…except the cephalids, who still thought that they would make a watery get away. None of them had tried the murky, rippling water yet.
"We can’t sit here forever!" snapped Zercis. He, for one, didn’t believe in any notions of strength in numbers; he would take a small number of soldiers over any number of wizards. Pemmin sat in a throne of shipyard rubble. Carefully avoiding the eyes of his former apprentice. There would be a time to confront him. It was not now. Now, everybody had to be safe…
"Luckily, I know a safe place," He felt three pairs of eyes scrutinize his trustworthiness, "Well… moderately safe.
Denoctie had chosen not to join in the debate. It didn’t sound intelligent anyway. He was trying to influence the group of wizards. Pemmin being added to the equation was a definite plus, and he wasn’t going to waste it He sauntered over to a clot of frightened wizards who were whispering franticly amongst themselves. They stared at him wide eyed for a moment before they realized that he was just a daft old man.
"I hear that he can tear through those creatures like paper." All of the faces spared not quite concealed glances at Lerief, who was arguing with Zercis several feet away. Denoctie mustered his skills at looking like a passing old geezer. He often wondered why perfectly intelligent wizards, when put in a group, would become so much like farm animals.
"Aye, but who wants to make a deal with a demon?" The looks on their faces as they rubbernecked at Lerief told him he had struck a nerve. He slipped to a different part of the group and changed his voice a shade.
"There’s got to be someone we can trust!"
One of the wizards that seemed to be supirior scratched his head.
"I guess that Daru man looks professional." Denoctie made his voice a bit lower; "He doesn’t care about us wizards."
"And everybody knows Callow doesn’t know up from down." he added in a squeaky voice.
The wizards did the mental Arithmetic.
"I suppose there’s always Pemmin."
The group had relocated to the third floor of the general apartment. Moderately safe. Pemmin had, in part, been right. There were only three entries and exits from the floor. Pemmin had, in part, been wrong. There were already slivers there. Lerief wiped his y hands on a rag and grinned mirthlessly, "I love to be in a place I know is safe." He circled the assembled council, which had gained Burdock the elf, Denoctie, and Councilor Caprious... although the cephalids still believed they could simply slip away in the water.
"It’s no big deal," he said in tones of poisoned honey, " Only one of my men died, and that doesn’t matter at all." He sat down on one of the few non-broken chairs that had been salvaged.
"So what do we do now that we are in safety?"
Denoctie gave him a glare. In the month that Lerief had been in charge of the sliver hunters, Denoctie had come to loathe him.
"What we need to do," said the old council member slowly, "Is to pick a leader."
Pemmin absent mindedly flipped one of his new spell holders into the air. The debate had raged on for hours, the old fool Denoctie was trying to convince a daru soldier that he wasn’t good enough at leading, and an elf that she was untrustworthy. His new spell sticks really were impressive. The crystal had been molded into a kind of handle curving down, which had been molded to the hand. Pemmin had also discovered that, amazingly enough, they could hold about fifty spells each. He had found them in a crate down by the dock.
"Are we agreed then?" Pemmin looked up guiltily, sticking the spell holders in his pocket. Zercis looked exasperated, but complacent. The elf looked sulky.
"That puts the vote between Lerief and Pemmin."
Zercis rolled his eyes.
"What about young Callow?"
Young Callow flinched at the thought. Callow had previously been a researcher of red mana. So it was odd that he was a cautious, nervy young man. "No, sir!" He said with a shudder.
"Then we will vote. I vote for Pemmin. I feel that he has the skills and brains to lead this ragged bunch."
Burdock the Elf shot daggers over the table at Pemmin.
"I will also vote for the great wizard."
Callow squirmed in discomfort.
"I’m going to vote for Lerief," He said embaressedly, "He’s the only one I’ve ever seen fight the slivers, you know…"
Councilor Caprious looked down his beak at Pemmin.
"This is an expelled wizard, and while the cephalids won’t be staying here long, I would not serve this idiot for a second."
All eyes turned to Zercis, who had his eyes closed and his hands folded on the other end of the salvaged table.
"I have seen neither man in battle. I can not choose until I have."
Pemmin and Lerief’s eyes locked over the table.
"I propose a duel."
Denoctie fumed. He had been fairly sure that he had Callow in his pocket, and now Zercis was pulling one of his stupid "honor of battle" things. He had fair confidence in Pemmin, but that other boy was a little unpredictable. He had Pemmin preparing in one of the servants’ former rooms. He shook his head sadly. How quickly wizard kind excepted barbarism.
Pemmin slipped on the battle robes, and loaded yet another spell into his new sticks. He had chosen a large amount of a simple spell, which fired a sharp shard of ice, but he had also included a special feature. He held the two of the sticks together…a wavering blue wall separated him from the rest of grubby servant’s room. The door opened. The odd elf gir1 with the silver eyes wandered into the room.
"Err…hello" said Pemmin nervously. The elf stared into oblivion. Pemmin fussed with the battle robes. It was basically a cloak of leather, warded from some of the most basic spells. He got up to leave.
"Do not fight, Pemmin." Something about the gir1 definitely gave Pemmin the willies.
"Er..I really don’t think…"
"Find another way." Pemmin edged toward the door. The gir1 did not turn to follow his movement.
"You cannot win." Pemmin reached for the door handle.
"You must not die." Pemmin was gone.
The duel was to be in the great hall. A rectangle had been drawn in chalk in the middle. All of the wizards had come to see what would happen. They all stood close to doors. Pemmin looked at Lerief. Lerief looked at Pemmin. Lerief had his normal black leather protective clothing on.
"Alright boys, normal dueling rules," said Denoctie briskly, "shake hands."
The two combatants stepped forward.
"How has it been, helping escaped criminals, old friend."
"Not bad, how have the dark arts worked for you?"
The two realized they were still shaking hands, and rather harder than intended.
They released each others hands.
"Alright boys, On my mark."
Lerief’s eyes said that it would be very easy to kill Pemmin and make it look like an .
"Duel!"
Pemmin flipped out his spell sticks. Lerief raised his hands.
Pemmin fired two shards of ice at Lerief’s exposed stomach. Lerief batted them easily away and waved a hand.
A dark substance rose from the floor, grasping at Pemmin’s feet. Pemmin ran left across the floor, and fired a rapid burst of ice shards at Lerief, who flailed to keep them from hitting him. The dark fluid on the ground flowed slowly toward Pemmin.
Pemmin lowered his spell sticks; they had to cool down.
Lerief smiled and posed his hands. Pemmin dove for cover, hearing ‘Whomp’ as air imploded behind him.
Pemmin rolled and rose, gripping his spell sticks tightly in his hands. He had to twist around to prevent a bolt of dark lightning from Lerief blowing his head off.
He hadn’t anticipated this kind of variety from his former pupil, but he would have deal with it. Pemmin charged, firing shards as he went.
Lerief was forced back, still swiping at the ice with magic-encased hands. Once again the sticks had to cool down, and Pemmin found himself exposed.
Lerief shot another bolt, this time much more accurately. Pemmin had the presence of mind to slam the of his sticks together. The bolt hit the shield, jolting Pemmin.
But it had given him an opening. He fired the spell he had silently prepared. A ray of pale magic shot from Pemmin’s hands. Lerief raised both of his hands. He was knocked five feet onto his back.
Pemmin lowered his spell sticks. Lerif rolled to the side, barely avoiding two shards of ice. He fired a blob of luminous green liquid from his hands.
This time Pemmin couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder. Stone quietly melted behind him. He heard a whir behind him and fell flat on the ground.
A sword made entirely out of darkness passed over his head in an arc. Pemmin rolled when he hit the floor. Another sword of darkness bit into the stone. Pemmin pulled out his own sword that he had nicked from the armory. Good thing he had decided to enchant it before hand.
Pemmin never had a formal education in swordplay, but he tried. Pemmin swung wildly at Lerief, who now had swords sprouted from both arms. It was truly amazing that Pemmin wasn’t decapitated. His sword work would have made a soldier cry.
He miraculously was surviving, and even had time to prepare a spell.
Pemmin threw away his sword and pulled out the spell sticks once again.
They were almost empty. Lerief’s swords dissipated, and he once again raised his hands. Pemmin’s shield blocked another bolt.
He pulled apart the sticks a shot three of the remaining ten shots. Lerief waved them away and shot a ball of acid. Pemmin stepped neatly out of the way and shot two at the same time, dodging another bolt from Lerief.
It was clear to both that the other was weakening.
Lerief blocked one; the other tore his leather robe, but didn’t hit.
Pemmin shot three again. Lerief managed to block them, but sank to his knees. Pemmin released his spell.
Lerief was incased in ice, only his head was above it. He stared glassy-eyed at Pemmin. Pemmin aimed his spell-holder at Lerief’s head. Then the black goo Lerief released at first caught up to Pemmin.
Pemmin looked down and tried to shake his leg free. The goo climbed his leg; slowly draining feeling as it went. Dark [email="cr@cks"]cr@cks[/email] appeared in the ice that was encasing Lerief.
Pemmin tried to raise his arms but the goo was going fast, it had already grabbed his elbows.
The ice holding Lerief blew away.
Pemmin tried to slowly release his arm, letting a little magic flow from his fingers.
Lerief stared straight ahead, his hair drenched in sweat.
Pemmin could feel the goo’s grip lessen a little, but now only his head was poking out of the top.
Lerief waved a hand at the goo, suddenly it seemed to be draining more than feeling.
The arm was almost free.
Pemmin could feel himself getting weaker.
Lerief smiled.
Suddenly Lerief let out a gasp, a shard of ice sprouted from his shoulder. Without Lerief’s influence the goo dwindled.
Pemmin came out like an avenging angel.
But Lerief was laughing. He let some of the blo0d pool in his hand.
Pemmin raised his spell-holder… and then thought better of it.
The blo0d crept up the sides of Lereif’s cupped hand.
Pemmin held the ends of his spell holder together just in time.
The world outside the sphere became a cloud of red.
Pemmin could feel the force of the spell from inside the sphere of protection. He watched as the sphere began to break . A small stream of bl0od, moving extremely slowly crept into the sphere. More [email="cr@cks"]cr@cks[/email] showed up, causing a dozen small rivulets of blo0d to flow through the air. Pemmin, carefully holding the spell sticks together, did his best to avoid the creeping strands. Larger [email="cr@cks"]cr@cks[/email] began to form. Larger streams appeared. Blo0d began to pool on the other end of the sphere.
It was getting harder to avoid the bl0od.
Pemmin saw that his current gap in the bl0od was being filled, now that a new had opened.
Pemmin ducked to let another stream through then was forced to lift a leg.
A new stream was coming closer, at his heads height.
Pemmin couldn’t lower his head any more. The blo0d came closer and closer…Then it began to withdraw. The process sped up.
All the bl0od was soon gone, faster than it had arrived.
The sphere fell apart.
Lerief stared in disbelief.
Pemmin shot his last shard.
It was blocked.
Pemmin stood there, with no spells prepared.
Lerief raised his hands…and reeled as a modified spell-holder connected with his head.
Pemmin rushed forward and broke the other crystal holder over his head. Lerief spun and covered his eyes.
Pemmin grabbed Lerief’s head and brought it down to his upcoming knee. Lerief dropped to his hands and knees.
Pemmin kicked his stomach, flipping him over.
Lerief stared up with a blo0died face and raised his hand.
Pemmin was blown across the room.
Luckily, his armor took some of the force of the dark lightning.
He coughed weakly.
Lerief stumbled over.
Pemmin couldn’t move.
Lerief raised a hand.
Pemmin saw his life flash before his eyes.
But Lerief’s hand didn’t come down.
Pemmin weakly turned his head.
Hardly any spectators were left, only a small group, the elf gir1’s eyes were glowing silver.
Lerief’s hand remained raised, then began to fall… and was caught.
Pemmin stirred in his dark dreams. Everything seemed to be in darkness now. The survivors of Riptide lived in perpetual blackness. Black moods, dark living areas, black prospects. Pemmin rose and went out of his room. As far as he could tell it was morning, but the twilight did not change in the servants quarters. The oil was nearly gone when they had got there. Their grand leader had called the council together this morning. Pemmin strode into the gloom.
The meetings of the council were getting more and more strained. Lerief was not the most considerate individual on earth.
"We must attack."
"Not possible." Zercis sat with arms folded at the foot of the table, "Not with our numbers."
Lerief focused on him, with a look of pure hatred. Zercis clearly did not care. Lerief used that look whenever he focused these days. Lerief appeared to be in an integrating mood today. He forced his lips into a disdainful smile.
"You have no faith in me, Zercis?" He did not wait for an answer. "We have to strike! Day by day we lose more wizards!"
"And, of course, soldiers and elves." A dagger quivered in the table. A greasy voice had sounded from the left side of the table.
"Of course."
"So that it, eh?" Pemmin was leaning back, boots on the table, throwing a dagger at the edge of the table. "Lerief, champion of the common y man."
Pemmin smiled at Lerief’s anger. "Would troops not be better spent defending our home?"
Lerief tried to ignore him.
Denoctie was looking extremely disheveled on the left side of the table, between Lerief and Pemmin. "Where could we attack? It’s not like it will make a difference anymore."
Lerief’s good mood had run out. "We will attack the place that they are strongest."
Lerief had gone absolutely calm. This was not a good sign.
"We will destroy building three."
Lerief walked down the great hall towards his room. He was not having a good day.
"Not enough getting killed just standing around I guess."
Pemmin lit up behind Lerief. It was rare for a wizard to smoke, but in the last week, Pemmin had delved into the servant’s extensive cigarette collection. Lerief’s black irus turned slowly in it’s shot white.
"I fully agree with you. Quick. Clean. Not even any messy bits left behind when the slivers are done with them."
Lerief moved with lightning speed. Pemmin found himself pinned against the wall, gasping for breath.
"You assume that I care about these worthless group." Lerief’s grin was animal.
"It would serve my purposes perfectly if I’m the only one that survives." Lerief took the lit cigarette from Pemmin’s mouth and crushed it.
He pulled Pemmin forward.
"They are coming…my masters."
Lerief smelled like .
"And I have one job…just one…to subdue the slivers before they get here."
Pemmin subconsciously struggled against the grip, Lerief’s skin was starting to look dry and tiny wrinkles were spiderwebbing across his face.
"The wizard’s are a complication."
Pemmin hit the wall hard and slid down.
What had that boy been doing to himself?
Callow stared at the scene with fearful eyes and turned away, ready to bolt for his room.
An Iron grip descended on his shoulder.
"I assume my secret is safe with you, Mr. Callow."
Callow nodded.
"What did you use to do again…?"
"Red mana research, Sir."
When looking at Callow, one might think that he was a terrible wizard to choose as a researcher of the aspects of red mana. In this case, first impressions would be correct. It was really a kindness to put him that field; some people were just not fit to operate in the world of competitive wizardry. Red mana research was a safe haven. Nobody wanted some secrets.
"Interesting…I’ll keep that in mind."
Long after the grip was gone, Callow still felt it.
The council met again in the area christened "The War Room"
It was really an old, unusable bathroom. They didn’t have enough rooms to spare. Lerief spread a map of the project on the table. And smiled up at the council. They were not cheerful at all. Zercis was upset. Unlike Lerief, he did not get quiet when he was upset. Zercis’s dagger was buried in the wooden table.
"You little idiot!"
Lerief looked at the red face above him passively. The entire group had various levels of annoyance on their face, except for Callow, who had a look of near-terminal fear.
"I am not sending all of my soldiers into a building to be blown up with some kind of magic ."
"Nothing as sophisticated as that I’m afraid, Zercis." Said Lerief woodenly "I’m just going to puncture the mana tanks." He indicated a double row of ten cigar shaped blobs on the map.
"Don’t be stupid," Said Pemmin, speaking for the first time in the meeting, "That could easily destroy the entire project, and we haven’t even tested the corrupt mana fully."
"That is why we will have one man activate the emergency shielding spells."
Emergency shielding spells had indeed been put on the exits for the third building, as a safety precaution against the event of an exploding tank. People who knew the correct spell could easily pass the barrier while leaving it intact…this naturally did not include most of the workers in the third building.
Denoctie leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes.
"You’re a madman."
"That you for volunteering councilor Denoctie."
"Everyone else will be divided into five groups."
"Zercis will, of course, command his soldiers," Lerief pointed at two of the cylinders, one on top of the other, "You will be planting my detonators on the white mana tanks." Zercis bowed stiffly, his face red.
"You, elf, will be taking your kind to these two." He jabbed his finger at the green tanks. Burdock waved a hand to show she had heard. She had become oddly quiet in the last week or so. She did not appear to like being kept locked up in a building with the enemy
"Caprious will take a group of wizards of my choice to the red mana tanks." The cephalid stared down his beak at the human and sniffed haughtily.
"I will take a group to the black mana tanks."
He turned to the two remaining members of the group.
"I would like Pemmin to handle the blue tanks with another wizard team." He gave Callow a predatory glance. "Young Callow will be his second."
He glared around the table.
"I assume you know what to do, Denoctie."
Denoctie grunted.
"We will only have a short amount of time to blow the tanks once the emergency shields are up, so we must move fast. The soldiers and the elves will have to be back before the shields are up. The wizards can take as long as they want, as long as they know the spell to get through" He pulled several spell sticks out of a canvas bag and handed three to each leader.
"Place one each on both the corrupt tank and the clean tank. Then put one on the ground in the middle. Then run."
He looked with a suddenly glazed, bored look at the assembly.
"You will meet slivers on the way." He had a far away look on his face.
"Be ready."
Pemmin strapped on his battle robes, steadily puffing away at another foul light up. Callow fumbled with some spell sticks next to him.
"So why does Mr. Dark-and-scary want you , son?" Crystal chimed on the ground
"I don’t know what you’re…"
Pemmin chuckled and shook his head.
"Isn’t it obvious, boy? This is a marked group. Look at this list!" He tossed a loose bundle of papers to Callow.
"They look like top notch wizards to you? My old buddy is thinning the herd." Callow had frozen… out of shock or fright Pemmin couldn’t be sure.
"He hopes that we have enough skill to finish the job and enough decency to die afterwards." To Pemmin’s immense surprise he heard a sobbing from the other end of the bench. This was not something Pemmin was used to. He went for a tentative pat on the back.
"That’s what he hopes, eh lad?" Callow quieted down and had just enough self-respect to stand and leave the room.
The door didn’t have time to close. Director Nemian stepped into the room. Pemmin was surprised to find him in his normal enraged state. Some things never change.
"I am to report to you, wise leader."
Pemmin tossed his cigarette on the floor and ground it in with his boot.
"So what did you do, Slimy?"
"Something incredibly worthy of reward, apparently"
"Reporting to me? I don’t think the plan is really that complicated. We are going to release a billion thaums of magic and hope the project doesn’t come down around our ears."
Nemain apparently didn’t deem Pemmin worthy of his presence any more.
Pemmin shook his head.
"Good one Pemmin, how are you going to get yourself out of this one?"
Denoctie looked up the rusty ladder. Nothing moved in the darkness. He ed his fingers and started to climb.
The five groups were entering from five different directions.
Pemmins group got the sewer. Pemmin looked over his troops. They were the dregs of wizardry. A few of them didn’t even have spell sticks. They were still at a point were it was not worth committing any of the spells they knew to crystal. Pemmin would have said some stirring words if he thought they would make a difference. The hastily made contact weave lit up in his hand.
"Move"
Five armies made their way across the vast floor of the mana storage room. The slivers didn’t wait for subtlety this time. Their army was a patchwork of different kinds of shapes and sizes, different forms moved like tides within its ranks. As one sliver moved through the press of bodies all the blades of his brothers would lengthen. Some slivers grew muscular and bulky, some of their blades seeped venom.
All of them were ly.
Pemmin flung another corpse off of him. He couldn’t tell if it was a mangled sliver or half a human. Half of their group had been lost within the first ten minutes, at least, he thought they had. He knew that he only had about two hours, but all time had been lost in the haze of battle. He looked up at the shapes looming above him. They had made it to the mana tanks. The great cerulean ‘U’ on the side proclaimed it to be the blue tank. The sliver seemed to be in retreat at the moment. He pulled the three detonators out of his pack.
A sliver leapt…
And was shot out of the air by a tongue of fire. Callow wiped some blo0d out of his eyes.
"Set the sticks, I’ll give you cover."
Pemmin had been impressed by his new second. He had expected him to be one of the first casualties, but he had proved incredibly resilient. Pemmin ran toward the corrupt tank.
Denoctie performed the simple spell. The panel in front of him glowed.
Attaching a spell stick to an object is usually a simple task. It becomes harder when several dozen slivers are attacking you. His fellow wizards, lead by Callow and Nemian, were doing their best to keep the slivers away, but some slipped through. Pemmin caught a blade on his dagger and shot a fireball through the torso of the latest attacker. He threw the blasted body to the side and finally set the spell.
"Come on, boys! To the next one!" The wizards readied themselves for a dash to the next tank.
The wave of slivers slowly dissipated, showing nothing but a long alley formed by the looming mana tanks. Nothing was to be seen of the other four groups except for bodies littering the ground. The wizard’s glances shifted to the shadows, looking for movement. Pemmin wiped his dagger absentmindedly on his robes.
"I know boys. I don’t trust it either…but we’ve got to take every chance we get."
Denoctie got to the safe point seconds before Caprious. Zercis stood stiffly in a corner, having a whispered conversation with one of his aides. Three elves were on the floor. Two were sprawled, one that Denoctie had never seen before kneeled stiffly…her eyes were strange. Lerief sat in a chair, head bent, concentrating.
"Where is he?"
Lerief gazed up, unconcerned. "Still setting up, I believe. He had better hurry up, the window closes in ten minutes."
Caprious made a disgruntled sound from the doorway.
"They are set."
"Good. One left then."
The slivers made their attack instantly once the second stick was on the tank. Pemmin ducked and slashed at a sliver trying to decapitate Nemian. These slivers appeared to have some kind of draining touch, and Pemmin could feel it working on him. He pulled the last stick from his bag and ran to the center.
"Well, no doubt the other explosions will do the work of detonating the blue tanks for us." Said Lerief airily.
A guest of Burdock’s jumped to her feet.
"Wait!"
Lerief looked up in surprise as Burdock tried to soothe the silver-eyed in the smooth elvish language.
Lerief smiled wolfishly.
"I’m a fair man. I’ll give him the time I can spare."
"Two minutes."
Pemmin dived and tried to stick the last spell to the floor. He felt a blade slice his shoulder. He could feel the energy leaving his body. He felt the weight of two more slivers drop heavily on him. The spell was set. He dimly registered wizards falling around him, one limped away. He saw it was Callow.
"Time to blow."
The sliver eyed gir1 had to be restrained by Burdock.
Lerief closed his eyes and mumbled.
Pemmin saw the tops of the sticks all down the row start to glow. The stick right next to him burned after images on his eyeballs. Callow had gotten as far as the red mana tanks before collapsing. Two beams shot out of each stick making lines of fire across his vision. Pemmin’s brain dimly announced that this was very bad. There was a metallic ping as tiny beams of magic punctured the tanks. Pemmin heard a roar, and their was a bright light.
Lereif mocked a frown.
Pemmin looked at his hand…It hadn’t always been that color…had…it?
Private Mod Note
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Official Slavering Discworld Fan of the Forum Pirates
As you will doubtless not remember: Success for the mutation project is pending," he said smoothly while distractedly sorting fact orbs on his desk, " but we have reason to believe, with a bit more funding, that…" ...
"Bah!" Nemian dropped the orb as one would toss away a particularly disgusting slug, " You have narrowed the cause down to "some kind of source" have you?" Pemmin bristled, "It’s coming from a single source sir."
The sorce of mutation, from this exerpt, is the mirari. This is the source of the "corrupt" mana.
Pemmin glanced At the great pile of metal, it really was a genius invention. It was based on His own theory that the mutation running rampant in the world was due to "veins" of mana, some veins were made of normal everyday mana ,but some were made from some kind of corrupted mana. Moving from one "vein" to the next caused some kind of magical friction, he theorized, causing magic to alter the very body and mind of a creature.
This is what Pemmin's original project. His thoery is that the mirari is sending out veins of corrupt mana out into the world. Crossing from a vein of pure mana to a vein of corrupt mana would result in slight mutation. If a creature lived near the edge of two veins, he would be more mutated. This explains why some creatures were mutated and some weren't.
Of course, being between a blast of pure and corrupt mana would cause immeanse "Magical friction" doing the work of a hundred years in a few seconds.
I hope that awnswered your questions.
Private Mod Note
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Official Slavering Discworld Fan of the Forum Pirates
The steamy air of the heating duct pressed against Pemmin’s skin. Her turned over; trying to find a more comfortable position .He needed to get some sleep. Raiding labs was hard work. They had freed a total of three elves so far. It had been three months.
"Stop rolling around, wizard!" snarled Bough, one of the fugitives. The elves treated Pemmin like some kind of semi-intelligent beast of burden… except they wouldn’t yell at animals. Pemmin gritted his teeth. He could probably leave if he really wanted to, but helping the elves had its advantages. For instance, the elves knew how to avoid the slivers, who had taken over nearly all of the vents in the Project. Pemmin dozed fitfully, listening to the whispered conversations of the elves.
Councilor Denoctie glared across the table. He was one of the most brilliant diplomats that Riptide had, but no trained diplomat could talk Captain Zercis for more than a minute without needing a break. "Why do want Daru’s help?" said the soldier again. It was all that he had said for the last hour. The Captain was a scarred-faced man who had been in some of Daru’s iest wars. He didn’t hold with diplomatic games. The only reason he had agreed to come was because he was a friend of Denoctie’s.
Denoctie grimaced. " We have been having some problems."
"Really? I thought you might have needed dancing partners."
"Of course, you are right, we can’t tell our left feet from our right, perhaps your soldiers could lend us a hand?"
Zercis put his mug down slowly. Denoctie’s tongue was a bit too quick for his tastes.
"Daru may or may not decide to consider your request in the future" He leaned over the table and growled, "But I can tell you why we’re going to tell you to stuff it up your…" Zercis took a moment to consider the political waters, "…robes for now, Denoctie."
He bared his teeth. "You have been capturing our soldiers again, and performing ‘tests’ on them."
"We only capture those who attack our envoys, Zercis. This is a fact that was explained to you at some length the last time you were here, I believe."
Zercis slammed his hand down on the table.
"Lies! What happens when they learn what happens to the ones that attack? You will still need subjects for your tests I presume!"
Denoctie raised one white eyebrow. Zercis stood up.
"I’m afraid the wizards have placed them selves above everyone for too long, Denoctie. I’ll show myself out."
Denoctie sighed. He had not been hopeful in the case of Daru, but he had expected something other than an outright refusal. Well, at least the wizards had begun to see things clearly. His secretary stepped deftly into the room and started to tidy the small chaos caused by Zercis’ outburst. Denoctie leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, "See if you can get a envoy from Wirewood to come." He said to the secretary. "We might as well know the full extent of our lack of options."
The committee to eradicate the sliver infestation was wading through dark, smelly pipes once again. Lerief’s team usually only responded to attacks these days, what with their badges being wired to all the wizards in the entire Project. These calls were kept to a near-manageable level by the remaining control slivers, which stopped most of the attacks. Oddly enough, it had been eerily quiet all day, so they had gone hunting in the sewers. All of the wizards on the committee had gotten very good at fighting slivers in three months. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, some of them were . The slivers now occupied almost all of the airways of the project, and had presences in all of the buildings. As a result, the committee had gained considerable sway over politics in the Project. The entire sliver department of the project was now under their jurisdiction. Lerief was on the verge of calling for an evacuation; the slivers had already claimed about a hundred wizards. He would have called one much earlier if it hadn’t been for very convincing arguments by the Queen. He wiped the sliver goo from his hands, and waited for his underlings to sever the corpses' heads. He checked his supply of spell holders. He was running low. They all had to carry a variety of spells these days, or the slivers would simply adapt to the spells they had. Suddenly the sliver badges glowed brilliant red. Lerief closed his eyes and played a burst of violet light into his special badge, reading the information. He opened his eyes.
"Finish up, boys. It’s one of our esteemed cephalid masters."
The group doubled its speed. The group lived in fear of slivers these days, being the only wizards to truly understand the threat they posed. They lived in greater fear of Lerief however. The only thing that kept them at Riptide was the fact that they found Lerief to be much more frightening than slivers. He had that effect on people these days.
His hair had gone from ginger to pure white. His eyes had gone from dark blue to black. Whispered rumors said that it was because of all the dark magic he used to battle the slivers. Other rumors said he had done it on purpose. The wizards finished and pulled out their special water spells.
Lerief led the way to the Cephalid apartments, growing black; oozing gills as he went.
Captain Zercis paced his room. There was something amiss here. Nothing would make him happier than to just walk away, and leave the wizards to their fate. And yet… The wizards were usually complete idiots, willing to sell their souls away rather than ask for help. Something very big was happening, and Zercis wanted to know what.
Zercis’ hand flew out and deftly stabbed the sliver. He studied the creature for a moment, then threw it on the ground. Zercis was a militaristic man, but he knew when not to hang around. He signaled his personal guard.
"Round up the rest of the guard, we leave at once."
The elves always slept for a maximum of three hours. This did not work well with Pemmin’s sleeping habits. "Today we will free another of our people, big wizard, and you will tell us were we will find him" said Burdock. It was not a request or even a demand. It was just a statement. Pemmin looked blearily at the ragged map in front of him. The problem was that none of the wizards ever bothered with maps, they just learned where to go and that was were they went. This made it so that few wizards were interested in accurate maps. This one had about seven definitively marked areas, and also had several major design flaws. Like leaving out building one.
"Well I don’t know if…" All of the elves suddenly froze. Pemmin took the opportunity to do the same.
"The slivers are moving."
The elves had an argument that seemed to last for hours. Pemmin used this time to try to catch up on sleep. He was hauled up by his hair without warning. "We will find one more elf, wizard. Then we will leave."
Pemmin tried to argue, but the elves were already on move.
The committee to eradicate the sliver infestation entered the airlock leading into building two, growing webbed toes and gills. Humans were not normally allowed inside the cephalid apartments, but this would be considered a special case. It had been the last three times. They hadn’t really been punished for times before that either. The specially treated water began to gurgle in to the chamber. Two slivers came through also. The battle was quick and easy, but it worried Lerief a little that the sliver had made themselves so hard to hit .It took a lot to worry Lerief these days. The stone door finally ground upwards, and the wizards looked into the Cephalid apartments. The water was clouded with swirls of dark blue Cephalid bl0od and violet sliver bl0od. Several bodies drifted through the murk. Two of the wizards added vomit to the mix. Lerief looked down at his badge; a pale arrow pointed to the right. He pushed two spiny bodies away, only to find them push back. Casting spells in the water was an art you soon got used to.
Zercis’ guards were some of the finest soldiers on the plains. As a result, only three of them had died so far. The creatures appeared to have seized the entire facility, and were roaming the halls. Zercis started to clean his sword, and then gave up. Whatever these creatures were they were devilish enough to take out three of Daru’s finest. "How long will it take us to get to the docks." He asked his subordinate.
"At this rate?"
"Well?"
"Three hours."
Zercis stared at his bl0ody sword.
Damn wizards.
"Double time men."
The lab was silent. Pemmin strode over to the cages on the far wall.
Finally.
The last three labs had been completely devoid of any prisoners. A female elf stared uninterestedly at a point several inches above his head. She was obviously in the final stages of research. Pemmin decided that beggars couldn’t be choosers. The lock had been designed to discourage petty thieves, not experienced wizards. The elf gave little resistance as Pemmin pulled her to her feet. The elves had stayed at the entrance to the room. It had seemed to Pemmin that they had taken an incredibly roundabout way to get to this lab. He knew better than to question the elves. The door to lab creaked open. A pointed beak poked in. Pemmin froze. He had learned that slivers depended on things besides sight. A second beak pushed itself in. Wonderful, thought Pemmin, two of them. He pulled the elf close to him very slowly and whispered, "When I tell you, you must run for the vent on the wall, and get inside." The , who Pemmin decided could not be older than eighteen, focused her slivery eyes on him for an instant. In that instant Pemmin found his entire existence being torn apart, read, and filed behind those eyes. The sliver slinked into the room... it had two heads. The spoke, but her eyes were now far away.
"How will you save your people, Pemmin?"
The sliver’s heads whipped around, and the sliver made a tremendous sucking noise. Pemmin slowly pulled out a much-used spell holder. The chuckled mirthlessly, her eyes studying something in another plane.
"How will you save yourself?"
The water-slivers were proving more difficult than before. How could they mutate by themselves? They had already lost a wizard. They were getting closer; the arrow was blinking feverishly now. Another ornate stone door blocked their path. Lerief motioned half of the wizards to the opposite side of the door. The wizards checked their spell-holders, then gave the ready. The door opened soundlessly. A strange tableau greeted the wizards’ eyes. In the center of the floating graveyard of this meeting room, a group of cephalid survivors stood in a circle. Slivers with strange blue patterns converged on them, swimming like leeches. Among the group were Nemian, Caprious, and many other senior Cephalids stood. They didn’t rise to the top for nothing. "Look who’s here." Said Nemian nastily, firing a bolt at a wriggling sliver, "Have other, more pressing matters?" The water made any replies impossible, though Lerief would be unlikely to give any. The slivers noticed the new group, and decided to see if they were easier to . The swirls of bl0od formed a tiny whirlpool in Lerief’s palm, coming closer and closer to the center. Lerief grinned for the first time in weeks; black magic was the only thing that made him feel alive these days. Three of the slivers became bits of bone. All of the wizards fired their spells. The slivers didn’t last long while caught in the crossfire. Nemian swiftly jetted from the room, taking Lerief with him.
"You will escort us to the docks."
Lerief’s face showed no comprehension.
"We have to stay with the project, sir."
"There isn’t anyone left in the project!" Lerief glanced at his badge. It was devoid of any glow.
"Fool!" I had those badges tuned only to Cephalids for the last twenty-four hours! Lerief showed no sign of surprise. Nemian leaned close to the wizard.
"The control slivers are all . All of the Cephalids were planning on leaving as soon as possible, but we were…surprised."
The rest of the wizards, cephalids and humans alike were now in the hall leading to building one.
The cephalid began to sidle down the hall. "It’s a shame that the builders of this Project never made any sea access besides at the docks, but we will have to do what we can, eh?"
"And my men?"
"Hop on a ship, I don’t care."
Lerief saw nothing else he could do. He faked a bow and said, "At you service, lord."
The soldiers marched at a fevered pace towards the docks, cutting down all monsters in their path. It had been quiet for a little to long in Zercis’ opinion; usually they were attacked every ten minutes. I had been about twenty since the last attack. It either meant that the slivers were not interested in this area, or something else was occupying their attention. They found what had been so interesting when they turned the next corner. The human members of the leading council had made a stand against the slivers. There was one survivor.
"I should have guessed you would take care of yourself, Denoctie."
"I would have guessed the same for you, Zercis."
"Care to join us on an ocean voyage, councilor?"
"A change of scenery will probably do wonders for my health, Captain."
The elves didn’t need any encouragement to run. They were up and sprinting down the vent seconds after Pemmin hurtled in, carrying the new addition to the group. They left Pemmin to huff and puff behind them.
When they came to a junction, Burdock halted the group.
"Take us to the docks wizard."
"The docks? Why?"
"To steal a ship!" Burdock held up a hand to silence him a listened. She turned on Pemmin, her face a rictus of fury.
"They are hunting us! What did you do?" Pemmin spluttered indignantly.
The elves ran toward the docks.
Four groups arrived at the docks nearly simultaneously.
No ships were left.
Your doing a very good job. I cant wait to see the next chapter!
:bunnycake:
YOURS MAY BE NEXT
The water at the docks was thick with flotsam. The water moved disturbingly, as though something powerful was moving in it. Four parties looked disbelievingly at the water. One group consisted of several feral looking elves and a rather scruffy man. Another had a small group of professional looking soldiers, and two old men, one rangy, one plump and overbearing. A third group mostly consisted of frightened wizards. The fourth and last group was mostly Cephalids, led by a squad of angry wizards, spell-holders at the ready. The groups glared at each other. Spell sticks rose.
"Wait!"
Denoctie hurried forward to the mid-point and made beckoning motions to the four groups. Four people stepped forward.
The hurried negotiations were not going well. On a whole, none of the parties felt the least bit inclined to submit to another. Except, of course for one of them, the group of wizards represented by a young fellow by the name of Callow. They were of the opinion that there is strength in numbers. All of the survivors were looking extremely worried…except the cephalids, who still thought that they would make a watery get away. None of them had tried the murky, rippling water yet.
"We can’t sit here forever!" snapped Zercis. He, for one, didn’t believe in any notions of strength in numbers; he would take a small number of soldiers over any number of wizards. Pemmin sat in a throne of shipyard rubble. Carefully avoiding the eyes of his former apprentice. There would be a time to confront him. It was not now. Now, everybody had to be safe…
"Luckily, I know a safe place," He felt three pairs of eyes scrutinize his trustworthiness, "Well… moderately safe.
Denoctie had chosen not to join in the debate. It didn’t sound intelligent anyway. He was trying to influence the group of wizards. Pemmin being added to the equation was a definite plus, and he wasn’t going to waste it He sauntered over to a clot of frightened wizards who were whispering franticly amongst themselves. They stared at him wide eyed for a moment before they realized that he was just a daft old man.
"I hear that he can tear through those creatures like paper." All of the faces spared not quite concealed glances at Lerief, who was arguing with Zercis several feet away. Denoctie mustered his skills at looking like a passing old geezer. He often wondered why perfectly intelligent wizards, when put in a group, would become so much like farm animals.
"Aye, but who wants to make a deal with a demon?" The looks on their faces as they rubbernecked at Lerief told him he had struck a nerve. He slipped to a different part of the group and changed his voice a shade.
"There’s got to be someone we can trust!"
One of the wizards that seemed to be supirior scratched his head.
"I guess that Daru man looks professional." Denoctie made his voice a bit lower; "He doesn’t care about us wizards."
"And everybody knows Callow doesn’t know up from down." he added in a squeaky voice.
The wizards did the mental Arithmetic.
"I suppose there’s always Pemmin."
The group had relocated to the third floor of the general apartment. Moderately safe. Pemmin had, in part, been right. There were only three entries and exits from the floor. Pemmin had, in part, been wrong. There were already slivers there. Lerief wiped his y hands on a rag and grinned mirthlessly, "I love to be in a place I know is safe." He circled the assembled council, which had gained Burdock the elf, Denoctie, and Councilor Caprious... although the cephalids still believed they could simply slip away in the water.
"It’s no big deal," he said in tones of poisoned honey, " Only one of my men died, and that doesn’t matter at all." He sat down on one of the few non-broken chairs that had been salvaged.
"So what do we do now that we are in safety?"
Denoctie gave him a glare. In the month that Lerief had been in charge of the sliver hunters, Denoctie had come to loathe him.
"What we need to do," said the old council member slowly, "Is to pick a leader."
Pemmin absent mindedly flipped one of his new spell holders into the air. The debate had raged on for hours, the old fool Denoctie was trying to convince a daru soldier that he wasn’t good enough at leading, and an elf that she was untrustworthy. His new spell sticks really were impressive. The crystal had been molded into a kind of handle curving down, which had been molded to the hand. Pemmin had also discovered that, amazingly enough, they could hold about fifty spells each. He had found them in a crate down by the dock.
"Are we agreed then?" Pemmin looked up guiltily, sticking the spell holders in his pocket. Zercis looked exasperated, but complacent. The elf looked sulky.
"That puts the vote between Lerief and Pemmin."
Zercis rolled his eyes.
"What about young Callow?"
Young Callow flinched at the thought. Callow had previously been a researcher of red mana. So it was odd that he was a cautious, nervy young man. "No, sir!" He said with a shudder.
"Then we will vote. I vote for Pemmin. I feel that he has the skills and brains to lead this ragged bunch."
Burdock the Elf shot daggers over the table at Pemmin.
"I will also vote for the great wizard."
Callow squirmed in discomfort.
"I’m going to vote for Lerief," He said embaressedly, "He’s the only one I’ve ever seen fight the slivers, you know…"
Councilor Caprious looked down his beak at Pemmin.
"This is an expelled wizard, and while the cephalids won’t be staying here long, I would not serve this idiot for a second."
All eyes turned to Zercis, who had his eyes closed and his hands folded on the other end of the salvaged table.
"I have seen neither man in battle. I can not choose until I have."
Pemmin and Lerief’s eyes locked over the table.
"I propose a duel."
Denoctie fumed. He had been fairly sure that he had Callow in his pocket, and now Zercis was pulling one of his stupid "honor of battle" things. He had fair confidence in Pemmin, but that other boy was a little unpredictable. He had Pemmin preparing in one of the servants’ former rooms. He shook his head sadly. How quickly wizard kind excepted barbarism.
Pemmin slipped on the battle robes, and loaded yet another spell into his new sticks. He had chosen a large amount of a simple spell, which fired a sharp shard of ice, but he had also included a special feature. He held the two of the sticks together…a wavering blue wall separated him from the rest of grubby servant’s room. The door opened. The odd elf gir1 with the silver eyes wandered into the room.
"Err…hello" said Pemmin nervously. The elf stared into oblivion. Pemmin fussed with the battle robes. It was basically a cloak of leather, warded from some of the most basic spells. He got up to leave.
"Do not fight, Pemmin." Something about the gir1 definitely gave Pemmin the willies.
"Er..I really don’t think…"
"Find another way." Pemmin edged toward the door. The gir1 did not turn to follow his movement.
"You cannot win." Pemmin reached for the door handle.
"You must not die." Pemmin was gone.
The duel was to be in the great hall. A rectangle had been drawn in chalk in the middle. All of the wizards had come to see what would happen. They all stood close to doors. Pemmin looked at Lerief. Lerief looked at Pemmin. Lerief had his normal black leather protective clothing on.
"Alright boys, normal dueling rules," said Denoctie briskly, "shake hands."
The two combatants stepped forward.
"How has it been, helping escaped criminals, old friend."
"Not bad, how have the dark arts worked for you?"
The two realized they were still shaking hands, and rather harder than intended.
They released each others hands.
"Alright boys, On my mark."
Lerief’s eyes said that it would be very easy to kill Pemmin and make it look like an .
"Duel!"
Pemmin flipped out his spell sticks. Lerief raised his hands.
Pemmin fired two shards of ice at Lerief’s exposed stomach. Lerief batted them easily away and waved a hand.
A dark substance rose from the floor, grasping at Pemmin’s feet. Pemmin ran left across the floor, and fired a rapid burst of ice shards at Lerief, who flailed to keep them from hitting him. The dark fluid on the ground flowed slowly toward Pemmin.
Pemmin lowered his spell sticks; they had to cool down.
Lerief smiled and posed his hands. Pemmin dove for cover, hearing ‘Whomp’ as air imploded behind him.
Pemmin rolled and rose, gripping his spell sticks tightly in his hands. He had to twist around to prevent a bolt of dark lightning from Lerief blowing his head off.
He hadn’t anticipated this kind of variety from his former pupil, but he would have deal with it. Pemmin charged, firing shards as he went.
Lerief was forced back, still swiping at the ice with magic-encased hands. Once again the sticks had to cool down, and Pemmin found himself exposed.
Lerief shot another bolt, this time much more accurately. Pemmin had the presence of mind to slam the of his sticks together. The bolt hit the shield, jolting Pemmin.
But it had given him an opening. He fired the spell he had silently prepared. A ray of pale magic shot from Pemmin’s hands. Lerief raised both of his hands. He was knocked five feet onto his back.
Pemmin lowered his spell sticks. Lerif rolled to the side, barely avoiding two shards of ice. He fired a blob of luminous green liquid from his hands.
This time Pemmin couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder. Stone quietly melted behind him. He heard a whir behind him and fell flat on the ground.
A sword made entirely out of darkness passed over his head in an arc. Pemmin rolled when he hit the floor. Another sword of darkness bit into the stone. Pemmin pulled out his own sword that he had nicked from the armory. Good thing he had decided to enchant it before hand.
Pemmin never had a formal education in swordplay, but he tried. Pemmin swung wildly at Lerief, who now had swords sprouted from both arms. It was truly amazing that Pemmin wasn’t decapitated. His sword work would have made a soldier cry.
He miraculously was surviving, and even had time to prepare a spell.
Pemmin threw away his sword and pulled out the spell sticks once again.
They were almost empty. Lerief’s swords dissipated, and he once again raised his hands. Pemmin’s shield blocked another bolt.
He pulled apart the sticks a shot three of the remaining ten shots. Lerief waved them away and shot a ball of acid. Pemmin stepped neatly out of the way and shot two at the same time, dodging another bolt from Lerief.
It was clear to both that the other was weakening.
Lerief blocked one; the other tore his leather robe, but didn’t hit.
Pemmin shot three again. Lerief managed to block them, but sank to his knees. Pemmin released his spell.
Lerief was incased in ice, only his head was above it. He stared glassy-eyed at Pemmin. Pemmin aimed his spell-holder at Lerief’s head. Then the black goo Lerief released at first caught up to Pemmin.
Pemmin looked down and tried to shake his leg free. The goo climbed his leg; slowly draining feeling as it went. Dark [email="cr@cks"]cr@cks[/email] appeared in the ice that was encasing Lerief.
Pemmin tried to raise his arms but the goo was going fast, it had already grabbed his elbows.
The ice holding Lerief blew away.
Pemmin tried to slowly release his arm, letting a little magic flow from his fingers.
Lerief stared straight ahead, his hair drenched in sweat.
Pemmin could feel the goo’s grip lessen a little, but now only his head was poking out of the top.
Lerief waved a hand at the goo, suddenly it seemed to be draining more than feeling.
The arm was almost free.
Pemmin could feel himself getting weaker.
Lerief smiled.
Suddenly Lerief let out a gasp, a shard of ice sprouted from his shoulder. Without Lerief’s influence the goo dwindled.
Pemmin came out like an avenging angel.
But Lerief was laughing. He let some of the blo0d pool in his hand.
Pemmin raised his spell-holder… and then thought better of it.
The blo0d crept up the sides of Lereif’s cupped hand.
Pemmin held the ends of his spell holder together just in time.
The world outside the sphere became a cloud of red.
Pemmin could feel the force of the spell from inside the sphere of protection. He watched as the sphere began to break . A small stream of bl0od, moving extremely slowly crept into the sphere. More [email="cr@cks"]cr@cks[/email] showed up, causing a dozen small rivulets of blo0d to flow through the air. Pemmin, carefully holding the spell sticks together, did his best to avoid the creeping strands. Larger [email="cr@cks"]cr@cks[/email] began to form. Larger streams appeared. Blo0d began to pool on the other end of the sphere.
It was getting harder to avoid the bl0od.
Pemmin saw that his current gap in the bl0od was being filled, now that a new had opened.
Pemmin ducked to let another stream through then was forced to lift a leg.
A new stream was coming closer, at his heads height.
Pemmin couldn’t lower his head any more. The blo0d came closer and closer…Then it began to withdraw. The process sped up.
All the bl0od was soon gone, faster than it had arrived.
The sphere fell apart.
Lerief stared in disbelief.
Pemmin shot his last shard.
It was blocked.
Pemmin stood there, with no spells prepared.
Lerief raised his hands…and reeled as a modified spell-holder connected with his head.
Pemmin rushed forward and broke the other crystal holder over his head. Lerief spun and covered his eyes.
Pemmin grabbed Lerief’s head and brought it down to his upcoming knee. Lerief dropped to his hands and knees.
Pemmin kicked his stomach, flipping him over.
Lerief stared up with a blo0died face and raised his hand.
Pemmin was blown across the room.
Luckily, his armor took some of the force of the dark lightning.
He coughed weakly.
Lerief stumbled over.
Pemmin couldn’t move.
Lerief raised a hand.
Pemmin saw his life flash before his eyes.
But Lerief’s hand didn’t come down.
Pemmin weakly turned his head.
Hardly any spectators were left, only a small group, the elf gir1’s eyes were glowing silver.
Lerief’s hand remained raised, then began to fall… and was caught.
"That’s enough lad." Said Zercis, "You win."
The meetings of the council were getting more and more strained. Lerief was not the most considerate individual on earth.
"We must attack."
"Not possible." Zercis sat with arms folded at the foot of the table, "Not with our numbers."
Lerief focused on him, with a look of pure hatred. Zercis clearly did not care. Lerief used that look whenever he focused these days. Lerief appeared to be in an integrating mood today. He forced his lips into a disdainful smile.
"You have no faith in me, Zercis?" He did not wait for an answer. "We have to strike! Day by day we lose more wizards!"
"And, of course, soldiers and elves." A dagger quivered in the table. A greasy voice had sounded from the left side of the table.
"Of course."
"So that it, eh?" Pemmin was leaning back, boots on the table, throwing a dagger at the edge of the table. "Lerief, champion of the common y man."
Pemmin smiled at Lerief’s anger. "Would troops not be better spent defending our home?"
Lerief tried to ignore him.
Denoctie was looking extremely disheveled on the left side of the table, between Lerief and Pemmin. "Where could we attack? It’s not like it will make a difference anymore."
Lerief’s good mood had run out. "We will attack the place that they are strongest."
Lerief had gone absolutely calm. This was not a good sign.
"We will destroy building three."
Lerief walked down the great hall towards his room. He was not having a good day.
"Not enough getting killed just standing around I guess."
Pemmin lit up behind Lerief. It was rare for a wizard to smoke, but in the last week, Pemmin had delved into the servant’s extensive cigarette collection. Lerief’s black irus turned slowly in it’s shot white.
"I fully agree with you. Quick. Clean. Not even any messy bits left behind when the slivers are done with them."
Lerief moved with lightning speed. Pemmin found himself pinned against the wall, gasping for breath.
"You assume that I care about these worthless group." Lerief’s grin was animal.
"It would serve my purposes perfectly if I’m the only one that survives." Lerief took the lit cigarette from Pemmin’s mouth and crushed it.
He pulled Pemmin forward.
"They are coming…my masters."
Lerief smelled like .
"And I have one job…just one…to subdue the slivers before they get here."
Pemmin subconsciously struggled against the grip, Lerief’s skin was starting to look dry and tiny wrinkles were spiderwebbing across his face.
"The wizard’s are a complication."
Pemmin hit the wall hard and slid down.
What had that boy been doing to himself?
Callow stared at the scene with fearful eyes and turned away, ready to bolt for his room.
An Iron grip descended on his shoulder.
"I assume my secret is safe with you, Mr. Callow."
Callow nodded.
"What did you use to do again…?"
"Red mana research, Sir."
When looking at Callow, one might think that he was a terrible wizard to choose as a researcher of the aspects of red mana. In this case, first impressions would be correct. It was really a kindness to put him that field; some people were just not fit to operate in the world of competitive wizardry. Red mana research was a safe haven. Nobody wanted some secrets.
"Interesting…I’ll keep that in mind."
Long after the grip was gone, Callow still felt it.
The council met again in the area christened "The War Room"
It was really an old, unusable bathroom. They didn’t have enough rooms to spare. Lerief spread a map of the project on the table. And smiled up at the council. They were not cheerful at all. Zercis was upset. Unlike Lerief, he did not get quiet when he was upset. Zercis’s dagger was buried in the wooden table.
"You little idiot!"
Lerief looked at the red face above him passively. The entire group had various levels of annoyance on their face, except for Callow, who had a look of near-terminal fear.
"I am not sending all of my soldiers into a building to be blown up with some kind of magic ."
"Nothing as sophisticated as that I’m afraid, Zercis." Said Lerief woodenly "I’m just going to puncture the mana tanks." He indicated a double row of ten cigar shaped blobs on the map.
"Don’t be stupid," Said Pemmin, speaking for the first time in the meeting, "That could easily destroy the entire project, and we haven’t even tested the corrupt mana fully."
"That is why we will have one man activate the emergency shielding spells."
Emergency shielding spells had indeed been put on the exits for the third building, as a safety precaution against the event of an exploding tank. People who knew the correct spell could easily pass the barrier while leaving it intact…this naturally did not include most of the workers in the third building.
Denoctie leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes.
"You’re a madman."
"That you for volunteering councilor Denoctie."
"Everyone else will be divided into five groups."
"Zercis will, of course, command his soldiers," Lerief pointed at two of the cylinders, one on top of the other, "You will be planting my detonators on the white mana tanks." Zercis bowed stiffly, his face red.
"You, elf, will be taking your kind to these two." He jabbed his finger at the green tanks. Burdock waved a hand to show she had heard. She had become oddly quiet in the last week or so. She did not appear to like being kept locked up in a building with the enemy
"Caprious will take a group of wizards of my choice to the red mana tanks." The cephalid stared down his beak at the human and sniffed haughtily.
"I will take a group to the black mana tanks."
He turned to the two remaining members of the group.
"I would like Pemmin to handle the blue tanks with another wizard team." He gave Callow a predatory glance. "Young Callow will be his second."
He glared around the table.
"I assume you know what to do, Denoctie."
Denoctie grunted.
"We will only have a short amount of time to blow the tanks once the emergency shields are up, so we must move fast. The soldiers and the elves will have to be back before the shields are up. The wizards can take as long as they want, as long as they know the spell to get through" He pulled several spell sticks out of a canvas bag and handed three to each leader.
"Place one each on both the corrupt tank and the clean tank. Then put one on the ground in the middle. Then run."
He looked with a suddenly glazed, bored look at the assembly.
"You will meet slivers on the way." He had a far away look on his face.
"Be ready."
Pemmin strapped on his battle robes, steadily puffing away at another foul light up. Callow fumbled with some spell sticks next to him.
"So why does Mr. Dark-and-scary want you , son?" Crystal chimed on the ground
"I don’t know what you’re…"
Pemmin chuckled and shook his head.
"Isn’t it obvious, boy? This is a marked group. Look at this list!" He tossed a loose bundle of papers to Callow.
"They look like top notch wizards to you? My old buddy is thinning the herd." Callow had frozen… out of shock or fright Pemmin couldn’t be sure.
"He hopes that we have enough skill to finish the job and enough decency to die afterwards." To Pemmin’s immense surprise he heard a sobbing from the other end of the bench. This was not something Pemmin was used to. He went for a tentative pat on the back.
"That’s what he hopes, eh lad?" Callow quieted down and had just enough self-respect to stand and leave the room.
The door didn’t have time to close. Director Nemian stepped into the room. Pemmin was surprised to find him in his normal enraged state. Some things never change.
"I am to report to you, wise leader."
Pemmin tossed his cigarette on the floor and ground it in with his boot.
"So what did you do, Slimy?"
"Something incredibly worthy of reward, apparently"
"Reporting to me? I don’t think the plan is really that complicated. We are going to release a billion thaums of magic and hope the project doesn’t come down around our ears."
Nemain apparently didn’t deem Pemmin worthy of his presence any more.
Pemmin shook his head.
"Good one Pemmin, how are you going to get yourself out of this one?"
Denoctie looked up the rusty ladder. Nothing moved in the darkness. He ed his fingers and started to climb.
The five groups were entering from five different directions.
Pemmins group got the sewer. Pemmin looked over his troops. They were the dregs of wizardry. A few of them didn’t even have spell sticks. They were still at a point were it was not worth committing any of the spells they knew to crystal. Pemmin would have said some stirring words if he thought they would make a difference. The hastily made contact weave lit up in his hand.
"Move"
Five armies made their way across the vast floor of the mana storage room. The slivers didn’t wait for subtlety this time. Their army was a patchwork of different kinds of shapes and sizes, different forms moved like tides within its ranks. As one sliver moved through the press of bodies all the blades of his brothers would lengthen. Some slivers grew muscular and bulky, some of their blades seeped venom.
All of them were ly.
Pemmin flung another corpse off of him. He couldn’t tell if it was a mangled sliver or half a human. Half of their group had been lost within the first ten minutes, at least, he thought they had. He knew that he only had about two hours, but all time had been lost in the haze of battle. He looked up at the shapes looming above him. They had made it to the mana tanks. The great cerulean ‘U’ on the side proclaimed it to be the blue tank. The sliver seemed to be in retreat at the moment. He pulled the three detonators out of his pack.
A sliver leapt…
And was shot out of the air by a tongue of fire. Callow wiped some blo0d out of his eyes.
"Set the sticks, I’ll give you cover."
Pemmin had been impressed by his new second. He had expected him to be one of the first casualties, but he had proved incredibly resilient. Pemmin ran toward the corrupt tank.
Denoctie performed the simple spell. The panel in front of him glowed.
Attaching a spell stick to an object is usually a simple task. It becomes harder when several dozen slivers are attacking you. His fellow wizards, lead by Callow and Nemian, were doing their best to keep the slivers away, but some slipped through. Pemmin caught a blade on his dagger and shot a fireball through the torso of the latest attacker. He threw the blasted body to the side and finally set the spell.
"Come on, boys! To the next one!" The wizards readied themselves for a dash to the next tank.
The wave of slivers slowly dissipated, showing nothing but a long alley formed by the looming mana tanks. Nothing was to be seen of the other four groups except for bodies littering the ground. The wizard’s glances shifted to the shadows, looking for movement. Pemmin wiped his dagger absentmindedly on his robes.
"I know boys. I don’t trust it either…but we’ve got to take every chance we get."
Denoctie got to the safe point seconds before Caprious. Zercis stood stiffly in a corner, having a whispered conversation with one of his aides. Three elves were on the floor. Two were sprawled, one that Denoctie had never seen before kneeled stiffly…her eyes were strange. Lerief sat in a chair, head bent, concentrating.
"Where is he?"
Lerief gazed up, unconcerned. "Still setting up, I believe. He had better hurry up, the window closes in ten minutes."
Caprious made a disgruntled sound from the doorway.
"They are set."
"Good. One left then."
The slivers made their attack instantly once the second stick was on the tank. Pemmin ducked and slashed at a sliver trying to decapitate Nemian. These slivers appeared to have some kind of draining touch, and Pemmin could feel it working on him. He pulled the last stick from his bag and ran to the center.
"Well, no doubt the other explosions will do the work of detonating the blue tanks for us." Said Lerief airily.
A guest of Burdock’s jumped to her feet.
"Wait!"
Lerief looked up in surprise as Burdock tried to soothe the silver-eyed in the smooth elvish language.
Lerief smiled wolfishly.
"I’m a fair man. I’ll give him the time I can spare."
"Two minutes."
Pemmin dived and tried to stick the last spell to the floor. He felt a blade slice his shoulder. He could feel the energy leaving his body. He felt the weight of two more slivers drop heavily on him. The spell was set. He dimly registered wizards falling around him, one limped away. He saw it was Callow.
"Time to blow."
The sliver eyed gir1 had to be restrained by Burdock.
Lerief closed his eyes and mumbled.
Pemmin saw the tops of the sticks all down the row start to glow. The stick right next to him burned after images on his eyeballs. Callow had gotten as far as the red mana tanks before collapsing. Two beams shot out of each stick making lines of fire across his vision. Pemmin’s brain dimly announced that this was very bad. There was a metallic ping as tiny beams of magic punctured the tanks. Pemmin heard a roar, and their was a bright light.
Lereif mocked a frown.
Pemmin looked at his hand…It hadn’t always been that color…had…it?
As you will doubtless not remember:
Success for the mutation project is pending," he said smoothly while distractedly sorting fact orbs on his desk, " but we have reason to believe, with a bit more funding, that…" ...
"Bah!" Nemian dropped the orb as one would toss away a particularly disgusting slug, " You have narrowed the cause down to "some kind of source" have you?" Pemmin bristled, "It’s coming from a single source sir."
The sorce of mutation, from this exerpt, is the mirari. This is the source of the "corrupt" mana.
Pemmin glanced At the great pile of metal, it really was a genius invention. It was based on His own theory that the mutation running rampant in the world was due to "veins" of mana, some veins were made of normal everyday mana
,but some were made from some kind of corrupted mana. Moving from one "vein" to the next caused some kind of magical friction, he theorized, causing magic to alter the very body and mind of a creature.
This is what Pemmin's original project. His thoery is that the mirari is sending out veins of corrupt mana out into the world. Crossing from a vein of pure mana to a vein of corrupt mana would result in slight mutation. If a creature lived near the edge of two veins, he would be more mutated. This explains why some creatures were mutated and some weren't.
Of course, being between a blast of pure and corrupt mana would cause immeanse "Magical friction" doing the work of a hundred years in a few seconds.
I hope that awnswered your questions.