Chapter 6: Awkward Stepfamily Encounters

Every day as an adventurer was a learning experience.

Today, Cecilia learned that her Analysis skill did not uncover traps. She discovered this very useful fact with a scream of surprise as two ancient blades, embedded in either sides of the ruined hallway she’d just entered, attempted to skewer her between them. She leapt backwards as the rusty metal squealed and clashed a fraction of an inch from her face.

Behind her, Shin snickered. “This is why you let the Hunter go first in ruins. Those who came before enjoyed murdering each other.”

“The Bil-Toong were a proud and secretive people, with fascinating traditions.” Cantor steadied Cecilia before she could fall over. “They had the widest documented number of assassin classes in history. Poison-based classes, trap-based classes, even a series of heroic ballads about an ancient master assassin, Oreti, who they claim hunted the sun and scared it so badly that it spends half of every day hiding from Oreti’s blade.”

“As I said. They were a people who loved murder.”

“And traps,” Cecilia muttered, glaring at the metal that now barred their way. From the way some internal machinery was groaning, it was attempting to withdraw, with no success. “Are we sure we’re going the right way?”

Shin shrugged. “Usually, the correct path is marked by the most deadly obstacles. If it were not, then someone else would have secured the treasure.”

“If there is any treasure,” Cantor said. “Our client isn’t exactly the most reliable.”

Cecilia had to admit he had a point; the woman had been tiny and ancient, not even from Ikshan. Instead, she’d come from a village two days out - but she’d lived here when she was a young woman, and claimed that her brother regularly ventured out to this ruin to hunt for treasure. Whenever he returned, he’d come back with valuable trinkets - until the day he’d never returned at all. Now, her granddaughter was getting married, and the old woman remembered her brother’s story of a golden statue that had been too large and heavy for him to carry. She felt this would make the finest wedding gift for her granddaughter, and possibly the last gift she would be able to give before she passed on.

All three of the Seekers agreed that this was a story of dubious veracity. But the old woman had paid in advance, as well as offered to split any findings in the ruin fifty-fifty if the statue wasn’t found - and to give them anything else but the statue if it was here. Cantor was confident that his invisible platform could carry the statue, if it existed. Shin would do just about anything for payment in advance.

Cecilia was looking forward to the chance to hone her skills, and see if she could level again. Her fourth level had given her three stat points, and she’d placed another two points into Intellect, with the last going, once again, into Perception.

She eyed the trap. Maybe she needed to focus more on that, in the future. Now, though, she had the chance to use one of her new skills. She tapped her fists against one another. “Fists of the Forge!”

They burst into white hot flame, her hands glowing red. It didn’t hurt, or so much as singe the sturdy cloth tunic she wore. But when she stepped forward and punched the blades, fire exploded outward, burning through the pitted, rusty steel and reducing them to blackened, shattered bits within a couple of strikes. The smell of scorched iron filled the hall.

“Very nice,” Shin said, walking over the shards on silent feet. “Now, stay behind me, yes? And keep your eyes open. More than traps wait for us.”

They’d already had a taste of that; the ruins were haunted by what were apparently called shadow-moths. When she’d heard the name, Cecilia had pictured some small, dark fluttery thing. The reality was more four-foot tall winged parasites with the ability to blind people with dust from their wings. Cantor and Shin had fired on them from afar, and Cecilia had punched any that dodged arrow and spell well enough to get close.

It had been like punching bags filled with wet newspaper, and Cecilia really wasn’t looking forward to stirring up another nest. She hung back with Cantor, knowing that neither of them were the stealthy sort. “I’ve been practicing the Light spell.”

“How is that going?” he asked, with clear interest - then read the answer in her face. “Ah. The first spell is the most difficult, Cecilia. Where does it go wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I speak the incantation from the book, I do feel something. Almost like the air growing hot around me? I try to focus and,” she sighed, “it just goes poof. Like stabbing a balloon.”

“A what?”

“I’ll explain later. Let’s just say it’s like poking something that contains a lot of something else under pressure. All the stuff inside goes pop and leaves you with nothing but a ringing in your ears for your trouble.”

“Hm. It sounds as if you’re not focusing correctly. You must channel the azoth into the shape of the spell, or else it can…poof…as you say. When we get back, we can practice–”

“Silence, you two,” Shin hissed from up ahead. She was crouched behind a low, stone railing, and above the railing, the room opened out and upwards. Cecilia couldn’t even see the ceiling from this far back. The Hunter beckoned for them to approach, quietly.

They did their best, grimacing apologies at every brittle crack of loose stone or dry stick under their feet. She didn’t even roll her eyes when they made it to her side. Instead, she jabbed her hand at the top of the railing.

Cautiously, Cecilia peeked over. The balcony overlooked a large, deeply sunken room. It had no natural windows, but half the roof had fallen in, and spears of dusty sunlight penetrated all the way to its shadowed heart. Cracked murals covered the walls from floor to ceiling; they seemed to be celebrating heroic figures as they heroically…slit enemy’s throats, dropped poison in enemies’ sleeping ears, and so forth.

But that wasn’t what Shin wanted them to see. Cecilia’s gaze drifted lower, and her breath caught. In the center of the room, surrounded by a small heap of glittering objects, was the golden statue. It was at least as tall as she was, depicting a rotund woman with elaborately styled hair and layered robes, standing with obvious pride on a wide pedestal. Not only was the statue golden, but the robes and her jewelry had been inset with what looked like actual pearls and faceted jewels.

Beside her, Cantor’s breath caught and he let out the softest of curses. She followed the direction of his stare, and her own eyes widened. “Is that a dragon ?”

“No,” both of them whispered, in unison. “It’s a wyrm,” Shin added, without looking back over the balcony. Instead, she was pulling some of her special arrows from her quiver. “Very different.”

“We don’t have dragons in Tellura,” Cantor whispered, watching the sinuous, scaled shape as it slumbered. “They find the high levels of azoth to be uncomfortable.”

“What, really? I would have thought dragons would really like magical places.”

“Quite the opposite, actually. You see, dragons expel azoth as a natural part of their metabolic process. It’s in their every breath, and even their fewmets break down into nearly pure azoth. So, existing in an area of high ambient azoth would be sort of like you or I trying to live while swimming in sh–”

“Shhhh! ” Shin gave Cantor an exasperated glare. “Teach later. Now,” she gestured toward the beast, “we must be rid of this.”

Cecilia peeked again, trying to banish the Tolkien from her brain, and only partially succeeding. She couldn’t help but use Analysis. [Fauna: Lesser Telluran Wyrm. Level: 8] She supposed lesser was a good adjective to see, although the beast was at least three times their collective size, and that created some serious concerns about the Greater Telluran Wyrm. “Does it breathe fire?”

“No. But it has a venomous bite, and its tail strikes like a great hammer. See the wings?” When Cecilia nodded, Shin continued, “They are its weakness. The membrane is thin. If shredded, it will be forced to ground. That is when we shall kill it.” She bared her teeth. “Wyrm scale sells for good money, and its heart is a great prize if we can harvest it intact.”

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Cantor whispered, “Shield incoming,” and with a brief gesture, he wove the light enchantment over them both, and then himself. “Shin and I can take the lead on the offense. If we can take the wings out quickly, then you can come in. Aim for the gills immediately to the rear of its cranial ridges.”

“It has gills?”

Shin snorted. “Teach later,” she reminded them. “Now, Seekers. We will make good money today!”

As battle cries went, perhaps it wasn’t the most heroic, but Shin and Cantor rose as one, firing spells and arrows. The wyrm thrashed awake, its long, crocodilian snout opening in a keening cry that was more bird-like than anything.

It launched itself into the air, its wings unfolding with a leathern snap. To Cecilia’s surprise, they were brightly colored, a riot of cobalt blue, scarlet, and sunlight yellow, and they reached nearly from wall to wall, thin enough that the sunlight dappled them from behind. The wyrm’s eyes were small and black, and it had no nostrils at all. She got a better look than she wanted as it flung itself at the balcony, even as one of its wings caught fire from Cantor’s firefly missiles.

Cecilia was there to meet it, fists bursting into flame. Her punch took the wyrm just above its gaping maw, with enough force behind it to make the creature flinch and backwing. Before she could cheer, however, its long, muscular body whipped around.

The wyrm’s attack was unbelievably fast; its tail swept the balcony, sending all three of them tumbling through the air. Cecilia twisted, grabbed for the stone railing, and succeeded. Shin turned her fall into a flip and hit the floor below in a defensive stance, her bow tucked protectively away from her weight.

Cantor wasn’t as lucky. He yelped as he tumbled through the air, robes billowing, and hit the debris on the floor with all the grace of a sack. When the wyrm swung its head towards the crumpled figure, an explosive arrow detonated in its face. “Eyes over here, serpent!” Shin ran for cover as the wyrm turned to pursue.

Please be okay, she thought in Cantor’s direction. But a wing was flashing by, and she flung herself from her one-handed perch to grab it and hang on for dear life.

The wyrm screeched as it went into a surprise spiral down to the broken floor. It snapped back at her and gave a great heave of its wings, trying to shake her off.

Instead, Cecilia kicked with all her might. Wing membrane tore, prompting more high-pitched sounds of rage and pain from the beast. She released one hand, forming a fist and shouting, “Fists of the Forge!”

With burning fists she punched and clawed at the wings, the wyrm’s teeth snapping less than an inch away. Arrows hissed through the air, breaking through the protective scales until the wyrm was oozing black ichor from a half-dozen wounds. It gave another desperate effort, rolling around until it could slam Cecilia against a wall.

Stars exploded behind her eyes as her head bounced off the ancient stone. Her grip loosened and she slid off, to sit dazed on the floor.

The wyrm pretzeled in on itself to face her. Its eyes were small, but black from end to end and filled with murderous rage. She got a glimpse of rows of sharklike teeth as its mouth gaped wide.

Crackboom! One of Shin’s explosive arrows struck the back of its head, followed by a shower of burning fire. Cantor was back on his feet, favoring one arm and casting with the other. The wyrm turned to face them, and from her position, Cecilia could see slits open up just behind the spiked ridge of its head, revealing soft, gray tissue.

The gills. She staggered to her feet, and lunged forward. “Triple Strike!” Unlike her strike at its snout, which had been protected by heavy bone, this time her fist sank deep into some softer material, and the keening abruptly cut off as the wyrm choked.

They didn’t give it time to recover. Shin took careful aim and sunk an arrow into one eye, while Cecilia dodged thrashing coils to continue to punch at the sensitive gills. Every time the wyrm opened its mouth to try and breath or bite, Cantor was there to toss magical fire down its gullet.

Eventually, the beast collapsed, one good eye glazing over in death, and the stench of its burning flesh filling the room. They stood around it, panting, bruised, and spent. Cantor raised his good arm, and pointed at Shin. “I’m picking the next job.”

It took until sunset to butcher the wyrm, and load the loot - including the golden statue - onto Cantor’s magical transport. To their relief, the statue was only plated in gold, and its core of wood had begun to rot away; it was much less heavy than it looked. The rest of the items were a mishmash of dubiously valuable artifacts. Cantor said, “We’ll see what the Guild can sell them for, at least. It doesn’t tax me any more than leaving them.”

With the laden spectral transport floating leisurely behind them, the three made their way out of the ruins. By the time they passed through the gates - now nothing more than broken stone columns and the suggestion of paving stones - it was full dark. Cantor flicked his good hand and pure, bright light burst into being above their heads.

“Show-off,” Cecilia muttered, playfully. He was leaning against her shoulder, trying not to limp.

“Practice,” Cantor replied, looking just a little smug.

“Euphonia. At last.” A wizened old man stepped from the shadows of night-cloaked trees, the hulking shape of Tool and several other golems blotting out the forest behind him. “I have looked everywhere.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Cecilia felt her heart - or whatever passed for it - drop. “And my name isn’t Euphonia!”

Shin had an arrow knocked, so fast Cecilia didn’t even see her move. Cantor pushed himself off of her shoulder, murmuring, “Is this–” Her nod was enough. He raised his good hand and tried to look less battered. “We have no quarrel with you, sir. We’re adventurers, licensed and in good standing.”

The old man barely looked at the mage. His eyes were fixed on Cecilia. “Good, good. I’ve no quarrel with you, either. Simply return my property, and I’ll be on my way.”

“We have nothing of yours,” Shin said, her eyes darting from Cecilia to the old man, and then to the golems, who were quite large, and appeared unpleasantly arrow-proof.

“Would that were true, young woman.” He pointed at Cecilia. “This is mine. Return it to me, and you may go on your way.”

“You are quite mad,” Shin replied, shaking her head. “This woman is an adventurer, and nothing of yours. Away with you!”

He chuckled, a low and watery sound. “It has deceived you, then. Made you think it is human. I’m sorry for that. But rest assured, it will not be permitted any further misadventures. Come, Euphonia, before this becomes unpleasant.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Cecilia settled into a battle stance. She tried to use Analysis, but it returned nothing on the old man. Tool, on the other hand? [Artifact: Master-Class Golem. Level: 12] The other golems were lower level threats, ranging from levels four to six, but there were a half-dozen of them. She swallowed hard.

“Damn right she’s not,” Cantor said, forcing his other arm into casting position. “Golemcraft is as illegal as necromancy in this province. Take your leave, and we’ll forget we saw you. But do us harm, and the Guild will hunt you down. This is a sanctioned job, and we will be missed and pursued.”

That might have been pushing it; Ikshan’s Guild didn’t exactly have enough adventurers to go sending rescue parties. But Cantor sold it, and the old man hesitated. He clucked his tongue. “You are both fools, to allow a tool deceive you.”

“Do not speak of my friend in such a manner,” Shin snapped.

He cackled, that thin, mad sound that made Cecilia shiver. “Friend? One cannot be friends with a doll! It is malfunctioning. But here, see it for what it is.” He gestured at Cecilia. “The Craftsman Knows His Work.”

His will washed over hers. Cecilia cried out, trying to fight back. The effort drove her to her knees. It was an invasion, as if he were reaching inside and grabbing pieces of her, twisting them in her hands.

Then it was over, although it left her dirty and greasy inside. She stood, shaky as a newborn fawn, and looked up to find Shin staring at her in shock and horror. The Hunter’s voice quavered. “...you are a golem? But how?” Cecilia looked down at herself. Her body - her Doll’s Disguise - had been ripped away to show the stone and crafting beneath. She could say nothing, so Shin demanded of Cantor, “You knew this, didn’t you? This is the secret you two have shared!”

“Shin–I, yes, I knew, but it is more complicated–”

“Yes, I’m sure you have much to discuss. After I reclaim my golem. Euphonia. I will not ask again.”

Cecilia turned away from Shin. It hurt to see the betrayal and horror on her face. Hurt was good fuel for anger. She launched herself at the old man. “My name is not Euphonia! Fists of the Forge!”

The flaming punch slammed into Tool, as the larger golem stepped with surprising grace between Cecilia and her target. Fire exploded, washed over the massive body…and left it untouched. There wasn’t even a crack in its sculpted pecs. Two of its four hands came down heavily on her shoulders and started to drag her backwards. Even with her enhanced strength, Cecilia couldn’t break free.

Until a volley of firefly missiles whistled over her head and peppered Tool in the face. It didn’t seem to shock or alarm the golem, but it did force it to hesitate, and in that moment, Cecilia leapt, planting her feet against its chest, and pushed off with all her force, tearing herself out of Tool’s grasp. She rolled as she landed, then rolled again as one of the lesser golems swung crudely-formed fists at her.

Tool, itself, was advancing on Cantor, all four arms raised. The mage stumbled backwards, fingers dancing in the air.

Crackboom!

In close quarters, the sound of Shin’s explosive arrow was deafening. She already had another arrow knocked, aimed at the old man. “Stop.”

To Cecilia’s surprise, he did. The golems had them outnumbered and outleveled, but the old man seemed to consider his options. His hands came up, and the golems all stepped back behind him. All except Cecilia. “As I said, I have no wish for this to become violent. So, let’s make a deal, shall we? In exchange for my golem, I’m prepared to pay a generous finder’s fee. It is very precious to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Cantor said.

“How large a finder’s fee?” Shin asked.

The old man beamed a broken, yellowed smile at her. “Five hundred koil . My entire savings. This is what the golem is worth to me.”

Cantor glared at Shin. “And if we don’t?”

The old man took a step back, and one of the golems scooped him up as the others closed around him in a protective screen. “I will give you three days to think it over. Then I will come to your town. I will either hand you wealth and my thanks…or I will take my golem back and leave Ikshan a trampled ruin in my wake.”

He gave a merry little wave before disappearing into the forest gloom. “Your choice!”