《Warlock of Ashmedai: The City of God [Progression fantasy/LitRPG]》


 Chapter 1

    The axe fell and split the log in two. Oak threw the firewood in the pile and hoisted up another log. He caught himself wishing his axe could split something other than wood and shook the disturbing thoughts away.


    Just focus on your work. Hard work keeps a man on the right path.


    The morning sun had just started climbing over the mountain range in the east, shining between the white peaks of the Teeth, and Oak enjoyed the warmth. His dreams had been turbulent of late. A bit of sunshine was just what he needed.


    It was finally spring, and the snow was melting fast enough to make every river in the North overflow. Spring has a way of sneaking up on a man, Oak thought. You go to sleep in winter, and when you wake up, another season has passed you by, never to return. He could not quite decide if the thought of that was comforting or the exact opposite.


    The winter had felt long. Too long. Too many restless evenings and too much time with his own thoughts. Some of those thoughts were dangerous. Deviant. Violent impulses that stabbed at the walls of his self-restraint.


    Oak threw himself into the task at hand in order to silence his own musings, chopping until he had transformed the pile of logs into a pile of firewood of appropriate size for his oven. When he finished his work, Oak stuck the axe on the tree stump he was using to keep the logs steady, and went to take a break.


    Geezer was lying in the sun on a bed of pine needles next to the potato patch and opened one eye as Oak sat next to him.


    ¡°Lazy bastard,¡± Oak said affectionately, and rubbed the dog behind the ear, digging his fingers into the coarse gray fur.


    Geezer let out a pleased huff and went back to sleep.


    Oak took a drink from his waterskin and wiped sweat from his forehead. The pines around his homestead were roaring in the wind, bending with the gusts. Pinecones bounced from the roof of his small chicken coop. The chickens had apparently decided that it wasn¡¯t quite warm enough for them yet and stayed inside for the most part. Dark clouds were gathering in the East, but they were still far away.


    Better to finish stacking the wood quickly even so, or I will have to walk in the rain, Oak thought. He stood up, fixed his ponytail and started carrying the firewood to his shed, where it would dry and wait for winter.


    The large shed was his own make, unlike the house built by his late old man. It was made of thick logs, with plenty of space for the wind to blow through the walls and dry the rows of stacked firewood. A sloped thatched roof kept the firewood safe from rain.


    Oak looked at the roof and frowned. It might need replacing in a season or two. Always more work to be done. It would be wise to just get on with it, like the old man used to say. He brought the fruits of his labor into the shed, stacked them properly, and headed back to the house to finish preparations for his trip to town. He was running low on salt and some other essentials, and Oak refused to eat unsalted fish or meat if he could avoid it.


    Geezer stood up, shook himself and followed Oak inside the cozy house his father had built thirty years ago. The logs for the house had come from the large spruce trees in the nearby forest. Time and wind had dried them out, and the resin inside the logs had petrified, until the walls of the house had more in common with stone than wood.


    Oak knew this because a year ago he had to make some repairs to the north-facing wall and working on the section of log he had to remove and replace had been an absolute pain. If I had remembered peaceful living involved so many blisters, I might have stuck to the warrior¡¯s life, he thought, but if someone else had been there to see him, they would have seen a content smile on his face as he looked at the section of wall that had given him so much trouble.


    The house was no Jarl''s longhouse, but it was cozy and functional. When Oak had returned five years ago, much had been in disrepair. Today, the house was his pride and joy. New rugs, which Oak had bought from a trader in Spoke three months ago, covered the floorboards, and animal skins from his many hunts adorned the walls; he even had a wood frame bed with a real mattress.


    A cabinet for his tools and a chest for clothes took most of the space on the eastern wall while the oven dominated the middle. It was a huge monstrosity made of stone and red brick, and it could keep the house warm even during the coldest months of winter.


    Oak packed his backpack, put on his jacket and filled his waterskin. As he secured the waterskin to his belt, his eyes fell on the one thing in the house he had never moved or replaced since his father died eight years ago; His family¡¯s small shrine to Ashmedai. As he looked at the tiny three-headed statue and the bowl of stone on the small table in front of it, a strange feeling overcame him, and he decided to leave an offering of salted meat for the demon.


    It had been some time since his last offering, and it was always best to stay in the demon¡¯s good graces. He set a small slice of meat in the stone bowl and knelt as he did so. The first head of the statue was like the head of a bull, the second like a man and the third like a ram. The tail of a serpent circled down the left leg.


    For a moment, it felt like the face of the man was looking intently right at him, but then Oak blinked and the feeling vanished. The bowl was empty. Seems he found it acceptable, Oak thought and rose to his feet. It was time to go. As he turned to leave, a sound alerted him, and he turned back towards the shrine.


    The statue of Ashmedai had fallen over. Oak stared at the statue in fear and disbelief. That had never happened before. The statue was now pointing east, straight towards the coming storm. With reverence and care, he lifted the fallen statue and put it back on its rightful place of honor.


    That was a sign, as clear as the break of dawn. But of what? Is it a call to action? Or a warning of things to come? No matter what it was, Oak did not want to get involved. He pushed down his own rising excitement. I do not want to get involved!


    Oak stood there agonizing in front of the shrine for what felt like ages and tried to decide what he should do. The last five years had been hard, but he was managing all right. He couldn¡¯t just rush off to investigate some vague sign on a whim. Right?


    I will inform Soot of the matter when I go to town. Surely that is enough? Oak thought. He had a sinking feeling that Ashmedai expected more, but this was as good as the demon was going to get from him. Now he just had to figure out how to warn Soot without mentioning where the information came from. His course of action decided, Oak headed outside and locked the door behind himself before Ashmedai could give another omen and force him to investigate things better left unbothered.


    Oak gave one last look to his homestead and started walking down the road, Geezer in tow. His land was some way up the hills, which, if you traveled a day or two north, became the first steps up the largest mountain in the region called the Loner. The name was self-explanatory.


    The walk down to town was usually pleasant enough, unlike the return trip uphill, but today it seemed like every part of nature was in a contest to shake off the last dregs of winter. Bushes and shrubs were sprouting small leaves, squirrels and birds were racing each other across the spruce trees, and Oak even saw a beautiful doe drinking from a stream close to the road.


    Geezer was a bit too excited and was about to dash after the doe, but Oak held him back and said, ¡°None of that now, boy.¡± They were late enough already without the dog spending Chariot knows how long chasing after every animal they happened across. Geezer sneezed in protest, but left the doe alone, and Oak rewarded the young dog with a pat on the head. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    For the rest of their trip, Geezer reserved his undivided attention to tracking the squirrels jumping in the trees in the vain hope that one of them would slip and fall right into the dog''s waiting mouth. In Oaks'' humble opinion, any squirrel that Geezer managed to catch had to be both lame and blind.


    The hills descended into a valley dotted with fields and homesteads. Oak saw the Cutter patriarch repairing his fence with his youngest son and waved at them. The younger Cutter waved right back while Jon Cutter hesitated a bit and then seemed to decide that not waving was a bit too rude even for him.


    Jon was a barrel-chested man with an enormous nose, an impressive mustache and a collection of bald-spots that he hid under an aggressively ugly green hat. Cutter Junior was exactly like him, except much smaller and without the mustache. Or the bald spots. Now that Oak thought of it, those two had little in common after all; the boy even had the good luck of getting his mother''s nose.


    Not that Oak himself could really fault anyone else¡¯s looks. His nose had been broken a few times too many, and he had a couple of nasty scars on his face. In addition, he only braided his beard for special occasions. The ladies were usually not impressed.


    Oak and Geezer walked up to the Cutters. ¡°Jon,¡± Oak said and nodded.


    ¡°Oak,¡± Jon said and nodded right back. Cutter Junior stared at Oak like he was wondering what he should add to his diet so he too, could resemble a giant when he grew up.


    Jon was not a small man; in fact, he was over six feet tall, but Oak was still over a head taller than him, and every time they met, it seemed to make the other man uncomfortable. Or at least Oak hoped it was mainly his height that made Jon uncomfortable.


    It''s been five years. Will I ever be free of the stares? Will the whispers behind my back never stop? Oak thought. He didn¡¯t go to town often for a reason, but he soldiered on and forced himself to make small talk.


    ¡°Seems we have seen the last of winter. In a couple of days there won''t be a speck of snow outside the mountain tops,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Ay,¡± Jon said. ¡°Lots of work ahead for everyone to get these fields ready in time so we can sow the grain. I had to buy some seeds this year, and the traders tried to take me for a fool.¡± Jon spat and gave the fence post his son was holding steady a couple of good whacks with his hammer. ¡°I had half a mind to give some of those townsfolk an ass-whooping after that round of haggling.¡±


    Oak smiled in a way he hoped seemed good-natured. He had a bad habit of accidentally scaring the shit out of people. He had no trouble scaring them on purpose, either.


    I am a bloody generational talent in that department.


    ¡°I know what you mean. Ain¡¯t looking forward to finding out the price of salt these days,¡± Oak said. He crouched to give Geezer a pet behind the ear and looked east at the approaching storm clouds. ¡°I better get going if I want to make it to town before the sky pisses on us.¡±


    Jon nodded. He seemed to hesitate again and said: ¡°Did¡­did you happen to see anything strange on the way down from the hills?¡±


    Oak did not know Jon that well, but this was not a normal question for him. Usually the man had two emotions he was bouncing between: ornery and even more ornery.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Oak asked.


    Jon seemed a bit embarrassed he had asked the question. ¡°I don''t really know myself. I¡¯ve just had a weird feeling all day long.¡± He sighed and rubbed his face. ¡°By the Hashmallim, it feels like someone somewhere is digging my grave.¡± He looked at Oak again. ¡°You¡¯ve really seen nothing?¡±


    Oak thought about it for a bit. ¡°I can¡¯t say I have. Everything seemed as it should be, not that I¡¯m any authority on how things should be. But I will keep an eye out, and if I see something out of the ordinary, I can drop by when I return.¡±


    Jon smiled. Then he realized that this meant he would have to talk to Oak again in the near future, and his face fell. After a brief bout of consideration, he seemed to conclude that this state of affairs was preferable to being left in the dark if something strange was in fact happening and said, ¡°Mighty kind of you, Oak. Take care now.¡±


    ¡°You as well, Jon,¡± Oak said and started walking down the road, Geezer in tow.


    As he walked down the road, Oak was deep in thought. I think I just spoke with Jon more than I have in the last year combined. He must truly be worried. Oak felt a fleeting spark of excitement and squashed it down, shame overtaking the treacherous emotion. Interesting times should go and be interesting somewhere else, as my old man used to say. Oak frowned. A much wiser man than me, even if that is not saying much.


    After a brief walk, he stopped next to a lonely birch tree on the side of the road, checked that there was nobody close by, and sat down. Oak had a bit of talent as a theurgist, or a spook, as the soldiers called them. Not that he had spread word of his talents around much. His father had already been dead when he began experimenting with the art, and he saw no reason to tell his neighbors he could traverse the Waking Dream and wield memories.


    Not every spook was proficient in diving the Dream, and Oak was firmly of the opinion that one should always hold a card or two in their sleeves. Sadly, he was no savant. Oak was mostly self-taught, and he was not good enough yet to dive the Dream carefree. Today, he was willing to risk it. It seemed prudent to at least have a look around, considering John Cutter¡¯s sudden anxiety and the fact Ashmedai had given him a sign.


    To tell the truth, Jon¡¯s anxiousness worried Oak almost more than the sign. He could have never guessed there would one day be something Jon Cutter was willing to talk about that had nothing to do with the weather, the harvest, or the price of seeds. Or soil quality. The man was a farmer to the core. If the Hashmallim didn¡¯t have something to do with Jon¡¯s feeling of impending doom, Oak would eat his own boots.


    ¡°Keep watch, boy,¡± Oak told Geezer and closed his eyes. The world fell away as he dove into the Dream. To Oak, sinking into unreality always felt like jumping into a freezing river. The cold hit him everywhere at once, stealing the breath from his lungs, and suddenly he was standing under the foliage of an ethereal birch tree. In front of him was a road of daisies flanked by gigantic wheat crops.


    A pale sun was shining from a nearly black sky, and in the empty space between moments, snow fell upon the Dream like the last caress of fading winter. A thin, translucent filament of true existence shined beneath all that his eyes beheld, anchoring aspects of the Dream to their loci in the real world. Geezer''s comforting form stood beside him, and Oak briefly touched the dog''s surface thoughts with a feather-light string of a memory they both shared, bypassing the simple wards he had constructed to peek inside.


    The dog¡¯s mind was a vortex of excitement; fresh scents and sounds bursting to the surface of his mind one moment and discarded just as quickly as they arrived. Geezer focused on his given task and did not notice Oak¡¯s brief incursion into his mind. Infiltrating a human''s mind without the person noticing was a much more complicated task, but the minds of animals were fairly easy to dive inside. Oak pulled his presence back from Geezer and took stock of his surroundings.


    The shallows of the Waking Dream were usually not too dangerous for a novice of the art like him, but that did not make diving the Dream safe. Far from it. Many horrors called the shoals of the Unreal Sea their home. And in the deep waters, nameless things hunted in the dark. Oak could sense no strong emotional currents currently drifting through the dreamscape since there were so few people and animals close by. He called his Scout to the surface of his mind and sent the raven to scour the dark sky above.


    The dissected and rebuilt ghost spread its black wings and took flight. It was one of his seven ghosts and maybe the most useful of the lot. Oak looked around for a good place to hide while the raven went patrolling, and his eyes landed on his own shadow¡ªan oak tree twisting in an otherworldly wind. He shivered, gathered himself, and walked into the shade cast by the giant crops towering over him.


    Oak slid between the stems of the surrounding wheat, walking deeper into the unnaturally massive field of grain. When he was far enough that he could no longer see the road, he stopped and sat down to wait for the Scout to complete its patrol. After some tense moments of silent waiting, the Scout dove from the black sky, vanished inside the wheat field two hundred feet to his left, and then made its way back to him under the cover of the wheat, enveloping them both in shadow.


    The raven landed on his arm and tucked its black wings. Oak pulled the raven back inside his mind. In an instant, he saw everything the ghostly construct had seen and turned his eyes towards the east, right at the coming storm.


    In the Waking Dream, the storm was already roaring at full strength, like an omen of things to come. Lightning painted streaks of color against the clouds as the storm made its way forward, ponderously marching west, like its arrival was a matter of fate rather than a possibility. At the boundary between calm weather and the tempest, a wall of rain approached the town of Spoke, ready to drench the dreamscape.


    He thought the sight was downright primordial. But it was not the storm that had drawn his interest. A good distance in front of the storm, in the middle of a large vegetable patch arching over a house and turning into a tree on the other side, a lonely poltergeist shambled towards the town of Spoke.


    Oak left the safety of the shadows and headed east to meet it.

 Chapter 2

    Oak brought forth the ghost of a sparrow from his mind and clad himself in the trappings of the memory construct. He vanished, and in an instant where once stood a man, now a male sparrow spread its wings in the Waking Dream. His black, white, and brown markings flowed over each other and back again, ever moving over his feathers.


    Taking flight was effortless. Oak flew over the fields, delighting in the unnatural beauty of the Dream. The homesteads dotting the valley were different here than in the real world. Some houses, like the Cutters¡¯ house, rose high towards the heavens and bent back towards the ground, almost touching the fields with their thatched roofs.


    Others seemed almost normal, but the longer you looked at them, the more their forms in the Dream twisted until it was hard to recognize they had ever been houses in the first place. Then Oak blinked, and the buildings returned to normal, only for their wooden walls to grow and twist again, while their neighbors swayed in the wind.


    The sound of wood groaning as the houses danced in the breeze filled the fields. Oak dove under the arch made by one of the bent houses and whooped out of joy in the privacy of his own mind. Sometimes the weight of the past dragged him down with it. And yet here he was, soaring on wings of memory. Wonders never cease, Oak thought, and dove even lower, his feathers almost touching the sea of wheat under him as he sped towards the vegetable patch and the poltergeist.


    Oak made a circle around the sorry creature before landing and shaping himself back to human form. The poltergeist let out a horrid wail and focused its many eyes on him. It looked absolutely wretched.


    Limbs and faces bulged from the poltergeist¡¯s body without rhyme or reason, grasping, twitching and gaping for a mind to hold on to. Its skin was so blue it was almost purple and so translucent Oak could see the flesh and bone beneath. It could barely be called human-shaped if one squinted a little. A joining of memories of pain, despair and death from many different people, resulting in the creature before him.


    Oak circled the thing slowly and pulled forth a ghost fit for purpose. Kaarina¡¯s Horror curved over his shoulder blade like a giant black stinger, ready to pierce and destroy. Something about the poltergeist bothered Oak, and he did not want to break it before he understood the shiver traveling along his spine.


    The poltergeist was desperately frail, held together by a thread. The thing¡¯s presence in the Dream was weak and fleeting. It was pure luck that his Scout had noticed it in the first place, considering how it melted into the background, vanishing under the currents of the dream and then popping back into view.


    So why are you here alone? Oak thought. Usually, the birth of a poltergeist required the violent and painful death of at least a small group of people. Something this mangled should require a larger group, and that tends to mean more than one poltergeist. The wretched thing lunged at Oak, but its movements were sluggish and easily avoided.


    The icy touch of uncertainty trapped Oak as he circled the poltergeist. As far as he knew, you could not really dive into the mind of a poltergeist since beneath the exterior comprising memories of death and horror were only more of the same, undulating beneath the transparent blue skin.


    The poor creature was so weak, it would burst the second he did it harm, and the Dream would wash away the memories it was made of. He would have one shot at recovering at least a couple of memories so he could piece together what had happened.


    ¡°Nothing for it, just gotta get to it,¡± Oak said, and Kaarina¡¯s Horror lunged forward, guided by his will. The stinger pierced through the poltergeist''s chest, and with a wheezing wail, the thing burst apart. Thought-stuff spilled from its broken container, memories swirling in all directions.


    Oak reached for them with his will and captured three memories. The currents of the Dream swallowed the rest. The shards glinted and spun in front of him in the Dream, showing flashes of the recollection and experience within on their surface. He stretched them open and pilfered the secrets inside.


    What Oak found left him with more questions than answers. The memories were mangled almost beyond recognition. Flashes of axes and swords striking down upon whoever formed the memory, arrows piercing someone''s back as they crawled desperately towards a treeline. Terror overwhelming, as flames lick the walls of the only home a child has ever known. No sign of the ones responsible remained, not even a single face.


    Oak let out a growl of frustration, called back his Scout, and made his way back to his body. Consciousness returned to his earthly vessel, and he opened his eyes in the real world. Geezer poked him and Oak gave the dog a well deserved petting for a job well done.


    Not much I can personally do with this, but it means I now have some proof to point towards when I give my warning, without having to explain my worship of Ashmedai to anybody, Oak thought. People were generally fairly hands off with the religious affiliations of others. But Soot and the Ealderman worked for the King. And there was not a king in Creation who was completely comfortable with the worshippers of Ashmedai.


    I will take the memories to Soot and be done with it. She can deal with this herself or have one of the spooks working for the Ealdorman look into the matter, Oak thought. With his decision made and the matter soon safely out of his hands, Oak turned his mind to other endeavors as he started walking towards Spoke with Geezer in tow. Now, how much salt will I need and how much can I actually buy?   Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    As luck would have it, Oak and Geezer were a stone''s throw away from the town gates when the storm caught up with them. Rain fell like a heavy shroud, blanketing the world. It was the type of rain that made you wet and cold to the bone in a heartbeat, and as the guard waved him inside the town Oak had already decided he would stay the night at a tavern, even if spending coin on such things made his miserly heart bleed.


    For a fleeting moment the gatehouse above shielded Oak and Geezer from the freezing rain, as they entered the town of Spoke. Oak felt a slight shiver as he passed through the town''s wards, which kept those inside them safe from the predators of the Waking Dream.


    The streets were mostly made of mud, horse dung, and more mud, and there was an ever-present smell of urine from the tanneries. The smell of puke would soon add itself to the mix. Spring meant that the docks would be busy, and in short order the taverns would be filled with boathands drinking away their coin.


    Oak headed straight towards the center of town since he wanted to hoist the matter of the poltergeist and the murdered farmers on someone else''s shoulders as fast as possible and do his shopping in peace afterwards. He was quite happy to let Soot and her boys hunt down whatever sorry group of bandits and lowlifes were responsible for this mess and put them six feet under.


    The Ealdorman''s problem solver could probably handle this in an afternoon.


    Geezer followed right behind him, unbothered by the rain, while Oak cursed and stomped through puddles, water soaking his blonde hair and clinging to his boots. The streets were fairly empty, and those who had the misfortune of having to face the downpour did not stop to exchange pleasantries, so Oak soon found himself crossing the market square.


    He spared a glance towards the old and decaying church of the Corpse-God, which stood on the southern side of the square. No matter the hour, the place had a way of pulling his gaze to it.


    As riveting as he found the old church, he was bound elsewhere. The Ealdorman¡¯s manor was built like a giant longhouse, but unlike the longhouses you could find in many other towns and villages, this one was two stories tall. Right next to it was a brutal-looking stone keep with tiny arrow slits for windows and a wooden sign with King Jair¡¯s coat-of-arms painted on it; a wolf carrying a war axe in its mouth on a yellow background.


    A currently unpowered war-golem made of bronze stood on the porch, claws like short swords interlocked over its chest. When that thing straightened its thin limbs and gaunt body, it stood even taller than Oak. He always felt like the empty eye sockets followed his every move.


    ¡°Stay, Geezer,¡± Oak said and knocked on the keep¡¯s door. A new face barely out of his teens came to open the door, and after staring at Oak¡¯s chest for a second, craned his neck upwards and threw a questioning look in his direction.


    ¡°What is it, Oak?¡± the youngster asked, and scratched the sorry beginnings of a beard.


    ¡°I need to see Soot. Is she around?¡± Oak asked.


    The young man nodded and opened the door for him. ¡°Soot is in the back.¡±


    As Oak bowed his head and stepped inside, the youngster noticed Geezer sitting in the rain. ¡°If your dog knows how to behave himself, he can come in too and wait here with me. No need to keep him out in such terrible weather,¡± he said, and let out a mighty sneeze. ¡°Damn, I hate it when it rains like this.¡±


    ¡°That is kind of you, son. What''s your name, so I know who to thank?¡± Oak asked and beckoned Geezer inside.


    ¡°Pa named me Edgar after my grandpa, but most just call me Ed,¡± said the youngster. He had an easy smile on his face as he stared past Oak into the downpour. Someone slipped and fell down, cursing on the other side of the square, and Ed¡¯s smile got a little wider.


    ¡°Well, you are an all right sort, Ed, so I will leave Geezer here to your care. I should not be too long and then we will be out of your hair.¡± Oak clapped Ed on the shoulder, and walked across the entrance hall towards Soot¡¯s office, dripping water on the floor as he went.


    The door was open, so Oak leaned against the doorframe and addressed the thin, pale and dark-haired woman dressed in black pants, white dress shirt and a vest, reading a stack of papers in a chair by a crackling fireplace. ¡°How is it going, Soot? Do you have a moment?¡±


    Soot lifted a finger to show she had heard Oak as she finished reading a document, which she then put down on the small desk next to her chair. Then Soot turned her yellow cat-like eyes towards Oak and nodded at him. ¡°I am doing paperwork. How well do you think my day could be going?¡± Soot answered and her thin lips gave a small smile. ¡°But enough about my woes with bureaucracy. You have something for me, I can tell.¡±


    Soot was both an accomplished spook, and a grafted. The woman looked unassuming enough, but her frame was stacked with wiry, unnatural muscle and she could see in the dark like it was bright as day. During the war, Oak had seen Soot cutting through Jarl Shaw¡¯s carls like a hot knife through butter. The fucker probably had a barrel full of nasty tricks up her sleeves, and Oak was rightly scared of her.


    Oak hid a shiver and answered: ¡°I have three memories for you. Ran into a single poltergeist east of the town and thought you might want to have a look. Already viewed the memories myself, and I couldn''t see any signs of who killed the poor bastards. They died relatively quickly, so I don¡¯t think we have to worry about monsters or dwarves.¡± Both Oak and Soot brought a fist over their hearts and spared a prayer for the dwarves, after which Oak continued his report. ¡°Most likely the work of some band of outlaws.¡±


    Soot lifted a single eyebrow. ¡°How curious. Hand them over, and I will look into it,¡± she said.


    Oak closed his eyes and willed the shards of memory forth. They traveled from him to Soot, who kept the memories outside of her wards as she checked them over for anything dangerous or out of the ordinary. Old habits die hard, and a spook only made the mistake of taking trapped memories inside their mind once.


    Getting hit with memory hazards and thought-plagues was horrible. Oak remembered a time during the war when he and his entire squad thought they all had seven different fathers, and a sister named Lucilda for two weeks.


    Soot finished her cursory inspection and tucked the memories away inside her mind. ¡°Thank you for seeing me right away. The Ealdorman does not take kindly to people breaking the King¡¯s laws, nor do I. You can go now; I am sure you did not come to town just to visit me, and you probably have a couple of stops left before you can sit down in front of a nice mug of ale.


    She looked at Oak with those unreadable yellow eyes of hers and frowned. ¡°You know my offer is still open, right? You did good work during the war. I could use a man such as yourself.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten, and I am taken by the offer; I truly am. It just ain¡¯t the life for me anymore,¡° Oak said and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Soot nodded.


    ¡°So long,¡± Oak said, nodded and headed back across the entrance hall, leaving behind three memories, a puddle of water, and a job he feared he just might love.

 Chapter 3

    If nothing else, the horrid weather ensured Oak got his shopping done quickly.


    After an hour of visiting stores, and trudging through mud with Geezer in toe, he finally stepped through the doors of Respite. It was his favorite tavern in town. The downstairs was a large drinking hall, lit by oil lamps and the roaring fireplace at the back of the room. Rugs and antlers adorned the walls. The largest antlers, taken from a bull moose, hung from the wall above the counter where the owner, A¨ªfe, held her court.


    The place was not too far from the north gate, so he would not have to walk through the whole town when he left to make the journey home, and the ale was to his liking. So were the barmaids, if he was honest, but they were the owners'' daughters, and he did not fancy making A¨ªfe mad enough to hit him with a mallet, so flirting was off the table.


    It seemed to be a busy afternoon for A¨ªfe and her girls. People and sounds of merriment filled the tavern to the point of bursting. A¨ªfe¡¯s daughters were running around with trays full of ale, dodging customers as they went. Pipe smoke drifted upwards from every table, and folk were playing cards and dice to pass the time.


    Oak headed to the counter and flagged A¨ªfe down. Coin changed hands and Oak took his purchases, and Geezer upstairs to one of the small rooms A¨ªfe rented for travelers. It was nothing special, but there was a bed and a window, so he couldn¡¯t complain.


    ¡°Guard these for me, won¡¯t you?¡± Oak told Geezer and pointed to his sack of purchased goods. It had been a long day, and Geezer had missed his afternoon nap, so he left the dog behind to sleep. Armed with a parched throat and a pouch filled with coin, Oak headed back downstairs to find something to drink.


    A group of laborers from the tanneries had a game of poker going, and Oak settled on a nearby table to watch while he drank his ale and ate a bowl of stew. He rarely had luck with cards, but he enjoyed watching others play.


    Cards were dealt, ale was drunk, and men celebrated their winnings and damned their losses in equal measure.


    One of the laborers noticed Oak¡¯s interest. He introduced himself as Brian and asked him to join the table. Why not just this once? Maybe my luck has changed? Oak thought, and eagerly sat down to join the game.


    By nighttime, Oak¡¯s fellow players had almost robbed him blind. His luck had not, in fact, changed.


    ¡°I have to retire, dear friends!¡± he shouted over their demands for him to keep playing. ¡°If I continue, you will take my clothes as well, and I will have to make the journey home stark naked!¡± Oak thanked the laborers and especially Brian for inviting him to their game and made his way upstairs to his room.


    That evening, Oak¡¯s lousy luck could not be satisfied with mere coin. He opened the door to his room, and instead of stepping inside like a normal person, he hit his head on the door frame. Hard. Oak tried again, while bowing his head low and cursing his height.


    Why is everyone else a bloody midget? he thought bitterly.


    Geezer welcomed Oak back by opening a single eye and letting out a lazy huff. The dog did not even have the decency to look surprised by the fact that there was now a bump growing on his forehead. After a time of quiet self-reflection in the darkness, Oak¡¯s head stopped aching, and he climbed into bed.


    To add insult to injury, he had to tuck his legs to fit his large body into the bed, and even so the ends of his feet dangled in the air. Geezer yawned and joined him under the covers. The addition of a large dog didn''t help matters.


    ***


    When Oak woke up in the middle of the night, Geezer was growling, and there was a glow coming from his window. He staggered upright and looked outside, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes. A building down the road leading to the northern gate was on fire, and the rain had slowed to a trickle that would not quench the flames. As fast as he could, Oak stepped up to the window and swung it open.


    In the firelight, Oak saw a large group of maybe thirty armed men approaching down the street, squads detaching from the main group and vanishing down the alleys surrounding the main road. Helms and mail glinted in the fire''s light as the men moved forward, confident in their purpose.


    The men¡¯s shields were not painted in the King¡¯s yellow. They wore Jarl Shaws¡¯ blue. The realization sent a shiver down Oak¡¯s spine. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of fighting in the night air, and somewhere near the north gate, another house went up in flames. He stood frozen, looking out the window, as Soot walked out of the darkness to face the attackers. Immediately, he knew things were not going well.


    Soot wore her usual black trousers, white dress shirt, and a black vest. She had a sword in hand but no helm, and she was not in armor. She was also missing her left arm from the elbow down. Blood was dripping slowly from the stump in a small trickle. If Soot had been an ordinary person, she would have been in the process of bleeding out, but she was anything but ordinary.


    Without a care in the world, Soot looked around and cracked her neck. The flames made her yellow eyes glow, and they seemed to take something of the fire to themselves, becoming like two hot coals piercing the night. Jarl Shaw¡¯s carls recoiled from her in fear.


    Fucking Hell.


    ¡°That you and your boys over there, Horseshoe?¡± Soot hollered. ¡°Nice night to be out and about.¡±


    A man with a hook nose, an impressively braided mustache, and a face covered in blue war paint brandished his war axe and replied, ¡°Ay, your eyes are still as accurate as ever, Soot, though it seems you have had a worse start to the evening than us.¡±


    Oak had heard of Horseshoe. The man was an old hand at war who had earned himself a name when Oak was still a child. He was not a grafted like Soot, though.


    Soot spat blood on the ground and grinned. ¡°I¡¯m still mostly in one piece, so I¡¯m not sure I agree. Ran into Carnage, and we exchanged pleasantries, settled some old scores,¡± she said, eyes constantly moving from man to man.


    Horseshoe looked a bit worried. ¡°You kill him?¡± He asked and licked his lips nervously. The men around him spread out a little, so they would not get in each other''s way.


    Soot¡¯s grin grew even wider. ¡°Oh, I sure did. It was quite a sight to see him crawling around trying to keep his entrails on the inside where they belong, before I beheaded him,¡± she said.


    The last of winter''s chill lingered in the night air, and yet Horseshoe had sweat dripping down his forehead. ¡°I am sure you understand me and my boys are not as thrilled about that as you seem to be, ay?¡±


    Soot¡¯s grin vanished, and she stared directly at Horseshoe. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, I don¡¯t mind. This was one of those things where you had to be there,¡± she said.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    It happened so quickly that Oak almost missed the start of it.


    Soot moved and men died like flies. In a blink of an eye she was among the carls, her sword reflecting the glow of the flames, lines of light cutting through men and the blackness of night, followed by screams and splatters of blood.


    It took five heartbeats for the survivors to break and start running. They left at least ten dead comrades behind as they raced away from the yellow eyed grafted and vanished beyond the firelight. Oak could hear Horseshoe bellowing orders and trying to keep his men together.


    An arrow whistled from out of sight, striking Soot in the side. She grunted and dashed towards the direction it came from. Oak could see flashes of movement in the darkness, and he heard curses and calls for reinforcements.


    The spell of the moment broke, and Oak started moving like his life depended on it, which it most likely did. He got dressed in record time, grabbed his sack of goods, then thought better of it and left it behind. Salt would not help him now. It seemed Shaw had decided that this spring was the time to correct old mistakes and try his luck at becoming king once more. He had caught them all off guard.


    King Jair and his vassals had more men, more grafted, and more mages and spooks than Jarl Shaw. Unfortunately, King Jair and his vassals were not here, and Shaw was no fool. He would be here in force to take the town, kill or conscript the fighting-age men, and burn his way through the farmlands to strike at King Jair¡¯s loyal Jarls before they could mobilize.


    The town of Spoke belonged nominally to Jarl Cadoc, whose clan hall was a day''s ride west from here, in the Hills of Craig. He would be the first to fall.


    Things were not looking good. The enemy was inside the walls already, and Soot was badly wounded. In all likelihood, the battle was already lost. Soot was a tough bastard, and she had killed one of Shaw¡¯s grafted, but she could not turn the tide alone.


    Like Soot, Oak had made a name for himself with his deeds. The men under Shaw¡¯s command would know them both, and if they were still in the town when the battle was over, it would not end well for either of them. Unlike Soot, Oak had no real loyalty towards King Jair or Jarl Cadoc, and as a follower of Ashmedai, he felt kings were unnecessary, anyway. There was nothing keeping him from escaping.


    As Oak ran around, opening doors and shouting that they were under attack, he realized that he now had an answer to the mystery of the poltergeist. Outlaws had not killed the farmers whose memories Oak had taken to Soot. They had likely been cut down by the army now storming into Spoke, and the poltergeist had been alone because it had been the only one gone unnoticed by Shaw¡¯s spooks.


    ¡°What in the Hells is happening?¡±


    ¡°What? Under attack? By the Seraphim!¡±


    ¡°Wife, where are my trousers? Quickly now!¡±


    As sleepy patrons came out of their rooms, Oak ordered Geezer to follow, and stomped down the stairs. After almost losing his footing and running headfirst into a supporting column in the dark, he made it to the door and glanced outside. As far as he could tell, the way was clear for the moment, so he made his way out of the Respite and into the street. He quickly ducked into an alley and started jogging towards the eastern gate.


    There was still a slight chance he might make it out of the town before it was too late.


    Shaw is attacking, the walls are breached and my only weapon is a bloody hunting knife. Ashmedai preserve me, Oak thought, and picked up the pace.


    ***


    Only Geezer''s warning saved Oak from running straight into three men in Shaw¡¯s colors. He quickly dove between two houses and sneaked a glance around the corner. The alley twisted and turned like a snake, but he could barely see three armed men approaching his position.


    The narrow backstreet was a muddy, garbage-filled mess, and it smelled vaguely like a chamber pot. Oak¡¯s foot touched something hard. A roof tile had fallen to the muck from the house he was leaning against. Oak took out his knife and grabbed the tile with his left hand. It was better than nothing at all.


    Smoke from burning buildings filled the sky above. The night carried harsh sounds to Oak¡¯s ears from the direction of the Respite. It sounded like someone was beating down a door so they could ransack the place and steal everything that was not nailed down. A woman''s scream echoed in the air, followed by shouting and ugly, excited laughter. Pandemonium was spreading its wings. Oak signaled for Geezer to be quiet and dove into the Waking Dream.


    The cold of the dive hit him, and he found himself standing in an alley much like the one in the real world. There were, of course, some differences. The surrounding houses leaned towards each other, roofs so close to touching that only a small sliver of the sky was visible in the Dream.


    The houses and their wooden frames were groaning as they expanded and deflated, almost like the buildings were breathing. Hate, anger and an overwhelming sense of fear were pulsing against him from all directions. The Dream itself felt almost hostile, like it too wanted to taste blood. Oak settled in to wait and observed the minds of the three men walking towards the corner his body of flesh and blood was hiding behind.


    Normally it would be quite hard to sense a mind in the Dream, especially if they did not want to be found, but Oak knew exactly where his targets were in the real world. This made shifting through the currents of the Dream to find their minds a much easier task.


    The wards of the carls were basic soldier fare, nothing he had not broken through before. A fairly thin layer of trauma sheltering the mind within. It was enough to guard you against many basic memory parasites, traps and even poltergeists, but against a dedicated spook, it would not be enough.


    Oak readied Kaarina¡¯s Horror, and as the men were about to turn the corner, he struck the one in the lead. The stinger shaped construct lunged forth, guided by his will and pierced through the man''s wards after a brief moment of unpleasant resistance. An echo of a memory traveled through the stinger and struck Oak¡¯s wards, which handled the strain easily. The pain of burning flesh dissipated against his protections, unable to break into his mind.


    The man¡¯s wards buckled, and Kaarina¡¯s Horror ruined the consciousness beneath. The border between the man¡¯s mind and the Dream dissolved as his cognition shattered, memories leaking in all directions. Oak would have loved to claim the man¡¯s ghost, but he did not have time for it. He immediately dove out of the Dream and jolted back into his own body.


    He opened his eyes and sprang around the corner. The man leading the other two forward was falling down, still technically alive, even if there was nothing behind his empty gaze. The others were just beginning to shout in fear over their comrades'' fate, when Oak threw the tile at the rightmost one''s face and tackled the one on the left.


    Oak was a very large man. So when he struck the carl with his shoulder, and tackled him against the opposing house''s wall, something in the man cracked. The poor fellow let out a scream of pain, which quickly cut out when Oak stabbed him three times in the throat. He dropped the dying warrior in the mud and turned towards the last man, who was currently picking himself up from the ground. Apparently the tile had done its job.


    Oak reached the remaining carl with a single step, caught his sword-arm in a death-grip, and dropped his knife so he could get a hold of the man''s helmeted head. His giant fist closed around the helmet, and he started beating the man¡¯s head against the nearest wall like a particularly vicious drummer. After the fifth meeting with the wall, the man was no longer making noise. Oak wrenched the man¡¯s jaw back, picked up his hunting knife, and slit the man¡¯s throat from ear to ear.


    He stood over the corpses, breathing hard. Oak realized there was a small, content smile on his face, and he shuddered. Why does this have to be so damn easy? Like getting to a pleasant task you¡¯ve been looking forward to. He wiped the smile from his face. Geezer ran to him, ears flat in worry, and licked his hands to make sure he was okay.


    ¡°Fuck me. I¡¯m- I¡¯m alright buddy,¡± Oak said and scratched Geezer behind the ear. He felt almost a little drunk as he snatched a sword, a sheath and a shield from the corpses and started moving again, staggering down the alley while he fiddled with the sheath and his own belt. Every moment counted if Oak wanted to get Geezer and himself outside the walls.


    The screaming behind Oak intensified. The weight of the sword in his palm felt like the handshake of an old friend, and a part of him yearned to turn around. There is work to be done, that part of him whispered, but Oak ignored it. Survival required more of him than surrendering to base impulse.


    Everyone had a death waiting for them at the end of the line. Oak just did not want his exit from Creation to be a stupid one. There was still breath in his lungs, and he would fight to keep it that way.

 Chapter 4

    Panic was spreading through Spoke like a wildfire.


    The town was wide awake, and people were running around like headless chickens. Some were barricading their houses and arming themselves to defend their homes. Others were searching for a way out of the town with what valuables they could carry. Oak passed men and their sons in various states of dress and armor, carrying weapons and heading to the fight. There was barely any organization involved.


    A mother and her gaggle of kids rushed down an alley to his right, heading towards the center of town, searching for temporary safety. Oak noticed none of them were wearing shoes, and the fact stuck with him. They had left their home in a hurry.


    Just a little farther, Oak thought. He was only a couple of streets away from the eastern gate. Ahead of him, Oak could see another group of Shaw¡¯s men dragging a pleading man out of a barbershop. The shop''s sign had been torn off the wall and smashed to pieces.


    It was so dark Oak could not distinguish faces, but he was pretty sure the barber was a man called Owain. Shaw¡¯s carls threw him in the middle of the street and started kicking his ribs in.


    Others were more interested in treasure, and Oak could hear them turning the place inside out, looking for coin or things worth selling. Based on their angry hollering, the pickings were slim. Owain curled into a ball and shouted prayers for Mammon, but no demonic deliverance came to save him.


    Oak did not think there was a strong enough boon any of the demons could give that would turn the tables in Owain''s favor, and Mammon was a demon of trade and greed besides, not a demon oriented towards battle. Oak felt conflicted, but he circled around and kept moving towards the gate, leaving Owain to his fate. He could not fight that many men alone.


    ***


    Oak took a knee and looked at the eastern gate from the safety of the shadows blanketing the small gap between houses he and Geezer had squeezed themselves into. The guard tower above the gate was on fire, and bodies lay in the square in small heaps. The eastern watch had made their last stand, and it had gone poorly.


    The gate was closed, and the men gathering in the small square were carrying Shaw¡¯s colors. It was hard to see exact numbers in the dark, but there were a lot of the fuckers. There was lots of movement on the walls too, and even though Oak could not see precisely what was happening, he could hazard a guess.


    Shaw had been prepared with ladders, and now his men were climbing up in a steady stream from the other side to join the action. The last pockets of resistance on the wall were being extinguished. So close and yet too damn far, Oak thought bitterly.


    Shouts rang out from the main road leading towards the gate. A group of men led by some carls in mail charged into view, running at the invaders with weapons and shields raised, fury in their eyes. An arrow streaked from out of view and took one of Shaw¡¯s men in the throat. The man went down trashing, clawing at his bleeding neck while his fellows got ready to meet the townspeople¡¯s charge.


    The defenders of Spoke were maybe ten steps away from the enemy, when a lightning bolt struck the center of their formation, sending men flying. For a single heartbeat, the flash of lightning pushed the night back, and Oak could see the two sides clearly. Faces twisted in fear and hatred, hands clenching weapons in white-knuckled fists. Elation mirrored with terror in the lightning bolt¡¯s harsh light.


    Spots danced in Oak¡¯s vision as darkness returned, and the square resounded with the horrid noise of men hacking each other to pieces in a mad scramble for survival. Shaw¡¯s carls moved forward one step at a time, pushing the defenders back. I can¡¯t fault their courage, but this can only end one way. More men were climbing down from the wall every second and joining the fray.


    Oak began shuffling backwards without any conscious decision. Tussling with a mage would end badly for him, too. That might have been Riac¨¢n throwing lightning from the walls, and he had no intention of meeting that old monster in the flesh. He would leave that dubious honor to one of King Jair¡¯s pet mages.


    After doubling back for a bit, Oak leaned against a nearby wall and prepared a prayer to Ashmedai. The demon appreciated it when his followers helped themselves, but he was truly out of ideas. The walls were filled with enemies already, and Shaw¡¯s forces had taken both gates. The entire town was likely surrounded. He would need to find a gap somewhere without being spotted, and that was a tall task. Fear was taking hold of him. Geezer pressed himself against Oak¡¯s leg and whined quietly.


    Oak focused and whispered: ¡°Oh Scourge of Thrones, oh Conqueror of Heavens. The Last Believer and the First Apostate. He Who Gives a Choice. Ashmedai, Demon of Wrath, Demon of Struggle and Change, please help your follower in his hour of need.¡± Oak bowed his head and waited to see if he was still worthy.


    Ashmedai¡¯s attention was on him in an instant. The weight of the demon¡¯s gaze settled on Oak¡¯s shoulders, and they sagged in relief. He was worthy. After a moment, words rang in his ears in a voice he could not describe nor remember after they faded: Church of the Corpse-God. Shroud. Blood. Deliverance.


    Somehow there was an undercurrent of apology to the words, and Oak had a sense that he would not be thrilled with whatever solution the demon had come up with. He was beyond grateful nonetheless.


    ¡°Thank you, Ashmedai. The Children of Strife stand ever in your shadow,¡± Oak said. A warm feeling, almost like a hug, passed through him. It seemed his faith was well received.


    Oak pushed himself off the wall and took a deep breath. Ashmedai had given him a path to follow and he would bloody follow it, even if it meant heading to the center of town. ¡°Come on Geezer, the night is still young. Let''s move.¡±


    ***This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    It was strange how much things could change in a short time. When Oak had walked across the market square yesterday, not a single soul had graced it with their presence. The storm had driven away even the most tenacious merchant, let alone the customers. Now a large crowd was gathering in front of the Ealdorman¡¯s longhouse. Some armed to the teeth, all of them desperate.


    Oak could see the potbellied Ealdorman talking to the masses, but he could not discern what was said over the shouting of the crowd. The bronze war golem loomed over the Ealdorman¡¯s shoulder, waiting for orders from its master. He ignored the commotion and kept to the side of the square, heading straight towards the old church.


    It was a sturdy stone building with small stained glass windows made to last the test of time, but the centuries had still taken their toll. The roof was missing shingles and probably had a few leaks somewhere, and the wrought iron decorations embedded into the stone walls were either missing or so rusted through that it was hard to make out what they had originally represented.


    The bell tower made the church the tallest building in Spoke. Oak had always thought the church looked uninviting with all of its hard, angular surfaces and lack of color. It felt like the building was trying to pierce a world that had long ago passed it by. He could not understand what aid he could find there. God had been dead for a long time, and his corpse did not answer prayers. But even though Oak had his doubts, he trusted Ashmedai¡¯s word. There would be a way out. There had to be, Oak thought.


    Geezer took the lead for once as they circled to the back of the church, ears open and nose twitching. If Oak remembered correctly, there was a locked backdoor somewhere around here and he trusted in his ability to break it down.


    With a bit of wandering around in the dark, and stumbling over rocks that might have been gravestones at some point, Oak and Geezer found the backdoor leading to the church''s chapel. Oak busted the rotten door of its hinges with a good kick and some elbow grease. After he and Geezer were both inside, he lifted the door up so it leaned against the doorframe, hoping it would not be too obvious from afar that someone had entered the church.


    It was so dark inside that Oak had trouble seeing his own hands. Fortunately, he had anticipated this and snatched an oil lamp from a house on his way over, which he now lit. He doubted the former owners would need it after tonight, even if they survived. Fires tended to spread from one building to the next, and quite a few homes were already in flames.


    Conquering a town was pretty synonymous with sacking it, and a sack turned into burning the town to the ground faster than you could blink if things got a little out of hand. In Oak¡¯s estimation, things were well on their way to being completely out of anyone''s hand.


    The inside of the church had fared better than the outside. In the warm glow of the lamp, Oak could see that the pews had all but rotted away, covered in a layer of dust and grime. Despite the decay, some of the grandness of the chapel remained. He could see it in the decorated stone pillars holding up the roof and the painted roof itself, showing remains of frescoes, which depicted common symbols related to the dead Creator.


    One particularly well preserved work of art depicted the Merkabah, the Heavenly Chariot, and the angels of the Choir of the Ophanim as its eye-covered wheels. The conjoined wingspans of cherubs, angels from the Choir of Cherubim, formed the frame of the great Chariot.


    Ever since Oak had lost his father, he had pitied angels. An orphan is an orphan, no matter how celestial.


    An unconscious tug pulled Oak towards the altar at the heart of the chapel. It was a large block of granite which turned out to be mostly hollow. He put the lamp down on the floor and ordered Geezer to stand back.


    Oak took hold of the large slab of rectangular stone covering the space inside the altar and heaved with all of his strength. Inch by inch, the granite covering slid away until finally it dropped to the floor of the church with a great bang and cracked in two, sending dust flying in the stale air. Geezer sneezed violently and stared at the broken slab of stone with suspicion.


    The hollow space inside the altar contained a single item. A neatly folded white shroud with a single stain in the center. It was the color of dried blood. Oak stared at the shroud, almost afraid to touch it, lest it break down into dust. He was getting a terrible feeling he might just know whose blood was on that thing, and if he was right, there was no telling what calamity he might unleash upon himself if things went wrong.


    Sounds of fighting from the square outside, and a familiar shiver in the Waking Dream reinforced Oak¡¯s sense of urgency. Carefully, he grabbed the shroud. Someone had most likely just purged a bunch of minds and the memories of the braindead husks were now leaking into the Dream. Shaw¡¯s spooks were out hunting, and he needed to get out now while he still had the chance.


    Oak felt like what he was about to attempt should be done sitting down, and followed his instincts. He sat down, leaning against the altar. A bit of dust on his trousers was the least of his worries at the moment. There was a strange tension in the air, and the shroud felt heavy in his hands, heavier than any piece of fabric ought to be. He pulled Geezer close, laid the shroud in his lap, and pulled out his knife.


    Oak centered himself. He placed the cold metal of the blade against his forearm and made sure the cut would be right over the bloodstain on the shroud. Lightning flashed outside, startling him, and he almost fumbled and dropped the knife.


    ¡°Come on now, just have to get it done,¡± Oak said to himself. He took a deep breath and cut a small gash to his forearm. Blood flowed from the wound in a small trickle, dripping onto the shroud, and Oak prayed. As he chanted, the very air around him started to pop and crackle, static electricity sparking in Geezer¡¯s fur.


    ¡°Ye who brought light where there was only darkness, Ye who raised mountains and filled oceans, Creator of angel, demon, man and beast! Ye who were mightiest of all mighty, Ye who ripped out thine own heart to deliver us from the shackles of providence, Ye who slumber in death in the highest of heavens, please grant me deliverance! Bring me and mine to safety from certain death!¡± Oak roared, pushing all of his faith and fear into the words.


    The response to his prayer was like nothing Oak had experienced before. It was utterly impersonal and unconscious. A resonance built between Oak¡¯s blood, the shroud and a place somewhere far away, though Oak knew not where. There was no will behind it, just the inevitable tyranny of causality. His blood was vibrating in the air as it dropped towards the shroud, and he could not hear a single sound. It was like all the world was silent, waiting with bated breath to see what would transpire.


    Oak grabbed a hold of Geezer. The young dog struggled to escape, but Oak held him tight. What color he could see in the lamp''s light was draining from the world around him, peeling and twisting towards him. Just when it felt like he could take it no longer, like the pressure of existence converging upon him would crush his bones, there was a faint pop. In an instant, Oak, Geezer and the shroud vanished into thin air.


    Sound and color returned to the world. An open altar, and a lonely oil lamp casting shadows to the chapel''s ancient walls, were the only signs left behind by the departure of Oak and Geezer.


    Outside the church, things quickly went from bad to worse. Under the watchful gaze of Jarl Garreth Shaw, the people of Spoke were put to the sword, and their homes were burned to the ground. A pillar of black smoke rose towards the Heavens and joined the dark clouds above.


    Come morning, the crows would feast.

 Chapter 5

    A pervasive sense of wrongness intruded into Oak¡¯s dreams, but he clung to the sweet absence of remembrance for as long as he could. The waking world would greet him soon enough, and he had no desire to speed things along.


    Finally, the whine of a dog in distress dragged Oak to wakefulness, and he opened his eyes. Sunlight blinded him, and he sat up in a confused daze, snatching Geezer into his lap. The dog was shaking and that realization finally shook the cobwebs from Oak¡¯s brain.


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Oak whispered.


    He was sitting in an old, tranquil maple forest. Warm sunlight streamed down from the gaps in the foliage, and a pleasant wind caressed his frame. The air smelled of fresh rain. Little droplets of water were dripping onto him from above, cascading from one leaf to the next like little rivers, and finally taking the plunge to the forest floor.


    Distractedly, Oak noted that the wound he had sliced into his forearm had vanished. There wasn¡¯t even a scar. The temperature was pleasant, and the grass he was sitting on was so comfortable it felt unreal. Oak began petting Geezer to calm the shaking dog down and tried to take stock of the extremely confusing situation he found himself in.


    They were clearly in a magical forest of some kind because no normal place in Creation was this beautiful. Last he had checked they had both been in Spoke, most likely minutes away from Shaw¡¯s carls busting down the church''s door and splitting their skulls. Geezer started licking his face and Oak let him, since the slobber on his cheeks did not seem like an issue of great importance at the moment.


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Oak whispered again. Ashmedai had really outdone himself this time. He stared at nothing at all and listened to the leaves rustling in the wind.


    After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, Oak stood up and started walking about, touching trees, and feeling the texture of bark and vegetation with his hands. Following a session of tree hugging, Oak convinced himself of the fact that he was very much not hallucinating.


    Geezer had by now recovered from the sudden shock of finding himself in an unfamiliar forest, and after peeing on a nearby root, he sat next to Oak, wagging his tail excitedly. Oak was not as carefree. Even though things had turned out amazingly well considering their prior circumstances, something was bothering Oak, like a thought at the tip of his tongue that he just could not catch.


    All right. Things are extremely weird at the moment, so take stock of your situation, and then do something about it. You''re still breathing, and as the old man used to say, as long as you''re breathing you can still ruin someone''s day, Oak thought and got to work.


    This situation was too far outside of Oak¡¯s frame of reference for him to even begin to guess what was happening, and sitting around would solve nothing, or so he thought. At the very least, he would need to secure some water, and even a modicum of an understanding of where he currently was. Luckily, it seemed like it had just rained. There should be water available somewhere around here, wherever here really was, even if he and Geezer could not find a stream or a body of water straight away.


    Food was a bigger problem, but if Oak had to, he could go without for days on end. He still had the sword and shield he had taken from the men he had killed, and being armed made him feel a lot better about his situation. Oak picked a direction and started walking, since standing still was just going to make him anxious.


    Oak did not have to walk far. The maple forest ended suddenly, and the impossibility of what he was looking at stopped him in his tracks. It felt like the world had been cut with a knife. Right in front of him, the forest ended and a giant workshop began. Old and rusted smelters stood tall, casting long shadows over broken assembly lines and massive piping that went this way and that, creating a labyrinthian beast of metal.


    The forges and chimneys of this rusted cathedral of industry reached towards the heavens and vanished into shadow. Such tools would have made even the dwarves of old proud. The thought made Oak sad, and he placed his right fist over his heart, sparing a quick prayer for their souls.


    Oak brought his gaze back down and let out a shaky breath. His eyes caught movement. Something insectile climbed out of the shadows under a large assembly line, and just as quickly vanished back into the darkness of the workshop. Oak was not sure, but it might have been the size of a wolf or a large dog. Whatever it was, it did not look friendly. Geezer took one look at it and ran like the coward he was.


    Oak considered his options and made a tactical retreat to the welcoming embrace of the forest. He walked after Geezer slowly and glanced behind himself often, to make sure nothing was following him. In his current situation, panicking and getting hasty could cost him dearly.


    ¡°Fuck me twice over,¡± Oak whispered while he walked. He was no longer as impressed with Ashmedai, though he did not say that part out loud.


    ***


    Oak stared at his sword. ¡°Geezer, if I die and you somehow make it out of this place, be sure to tell everyone I died heroically, and don¡¯t mention the fact that I am a bloody moron,¡± Oak said and tried to find comfort in the solid grip of his blade.


    Walking out to meet the thing skulking in the darkness seemed like a terrible idea, but at the moment Oak could not see any other options. That did not mean he would not look for them. Even though Oak was better at bashing things than thinking through them, he was not going to just run out of the forest swinging if he did not have to.


    Now that they had left the immediate threat behind, Geezer lied on his back in the grass and rubbed his gray fur against the wet forest floor, flopping his legs in the air like the spaz he was.


    ¡°Come along Geezer, we have work to do,¡± Oak said. The dog barked and followed on his heels.


    First, Oak took a gander around the edge of the forest to scout the perimeter, and get an idea about the size of the forested area. The maple forest turned out to be fairly small, and the strange and hostile looking workshop circled it on all sides. He had hoped he could find an easy way out without having to face the darkness and the thing lurking in it, but luck was not with him.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    All around the grove rusted piping covered the walls of the complex, and behemoths of metal rose from the shadows, covered in gears and valves, the purpose of which he could only guess at. The corpses of machines littered the floor, strewn about like the discarded toys of a giant.


    It did not take long for him and Geezer to circle the entire maple grove, and as he walked, Oak realized what had been increasingly bothering him. It was so very silent. Now that Geezer was not constantly making loud noises, the only sounds he heard were his own footsteps, the quiet tapping of Geezer''s paws and the beating of his own heart pulsing in his ears. Even the aftermath of fresh rain dripping from the leaves above him made no noise at all.


    This entire place was deeply unnatural and the faster he got out of here, the better, Oak thought, as his mind turned to the thing lurking in the darkness. He had been consciously avoiding thinking about it, but now that the moment of facing the monster was coming closer, his imagination started conjuring different horrors, each more terrible, insectoid and filled with spikes and hungry maws than the one before it. He had not gotten a good look at it, so his mind filled in the blanks.


    A shadow moved suddenly right at the edge of his vision, startling Oak out of his scared musings. When he turned, the thing had vanished again into the darkness of the labyrinthian workshop. A shudder climbed up Oak¡¯s back. It was stalking him. Better to get to it while I still have my courage, Oak thought, and let out a dejected sigh.


    Oak quickly found out that planning what he was going to do and actually doing it were two very different things. He could feel his steps slowing as he approached the edge of the forest. Oak stopped at the border between forest and workshop, and stared into the oppressive darkness.


    ¡°You stay right here Geezer,¡± Oak said as he leaned down to scratch the dog behind the ears. Geezer whined and licked his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry little fella, I have courage for the both of us,¡± Oak lied as he walked into the darkness, shield ready and sword in hand.


    Why didn¡¯t I take a piss before doing this? Oak asked himself immediately after his boots touched the cool metal of the workshop floor. Apparently, fear of imminent death really gave him a need to go and relieve his bladder.


    Stepping through the boundary was a major shock to Oak¡¯s senses. The temperature dropped immediately, and the sounds of the workshop assaulted his ears. It probably was not truly that loud, but the time spent in the utter silence of the maple grove had made his ears sensitive. Chains swung in the cold wind and rattled against each other. Steam hissed, and the smell of wet rust and oil filled the air.


    Goosebumps raced across Oak¡¯s skin, and he gripped his sword in a white knuckled grip, cold sweat dripping down his back. He walked past piles of scrap metal and headed towards the large assembly line the monster had originally been hiding under. Straining his hearing to its limits, Oak desperately tried to make out where the thing he had seen might be skulking.


    All the while, he felt it. The ugly sensation of eyes filled with hungry malice watching him from the darkness. On his left was a large vat twice his height and Oak put his back to it, making sure nothing could sneak up on him. Then he waited.


    The sound of insectoid feet scuttling in the dark reached Oak¡¯s ears. It was all he could do to keep his breathing steady as the beast circled him. He could not see it, but he could hear it bumping into tiny pieces of metal and rattling chains that hung from the ceiling. In the corner of his vision, he could briefly see a black shape moving low to the ground as it vanished once more into the darkness.


    Oak did not take the bait and chase after it. It did not take long before the monster grew tired of waiting and it charged out of the darkness, lunging towards Oak¡¯s face. It was a disgusting cross of a cockroach and a giant centipede the size of a fully grown shepherd dog. Its mandibles stretched wide as it flew through the air, rows of tiny legs twitching, dripping with a strange ichor.


    What Oak did in response was not pretty, but it got the job done. He roared and met its lunge with a chop of his sword. The monster let out a horrid screech as Oak cut into it and pummeled it out of the air, straight into a pile of metal garbage. He did not give the centipede a chance to recover and bounced on it, stabbing his sword through the creature''s chitin plated stomach.


    The stench of the fluid gushing out of the strange centipede monster was revolting. The abomination attempted to right itself and have another try at biting Oak¡¯s face off, but he responded by stomping the thing''s head section until sickening cracks heralded the breaking of the monster''s exoskeleton.


    Breathing heavily, Oak took a step back and gagged. The thing was just that disgusting, and the stench of its innards resembled the smell of meat that had been left to rot in the sun. Just my luck, a bloody giant centipede, Oak thought and wiped his mouth. He staggered back to the monster and poked it with his sword twice to make sure it was actually dead. Then he turned it over.


    Oak looked at the impossible crime against nature with a sense of fascinated disgust. It was truly revolting. Horrible, but it was impossible to look away from its mandibles, wriggling little legs and wings hiding under the chitin plates on its back. The thing had wings on its back, Oak thought with a sense of growing alarm. Wings.


    Oak looked up slowly. There were eyes on the ceiling. So, so many of them. He started running like the Seraphim themselves were on his tail and a tide of chitin and hungry maws followed. He ran towards the maple grove faster than he had ever run before, legs pumping and lungs burning.


    A centipede brushed Oak¡¯s shoulder with its mandibles and he dove towards the boundary, rolling over it into the grove and the safety of sunlight. The sounds of the workshop floor disappeared, and a pleasant warmth surrounded him. Despite the centipede''s ravenous nature, the wave of chitin behind him did not dare to cross the boundary. The flying monsters banked away from the light and receded back into the darkness.


    Oak scrambled away from the boundary, heartbeat thundering in his ears. He could not get enough air.


    In and out. In and out. Still breathing.


    He tried to calm himself, but even the unnatural warmth of the grove could not banish the chill of the grave from his bones. That had been too close. Way too close.


    If Oak had to guess, Geezer had most likely made the wise decision to escape to the middle of the grove. Trusting the dog''s cowardice rarely led him astray, so he got up and followed suit, after his legs no longer felt like jelly. Any confidence he had been harboring about their survival had suffered a bit of a setback.


    The sight of a gray tail sticking out from behind the trunk of a maple tree gave Oak a hint of Geezer¡¯s whereabouts. The dog was in hiding. Obviously, he was no master of stealth, but at least the goofball had tried.


    ¡°Geezer, based on recent events you are certainly the brains of this operation,¡± Oak said as he flopped down on the wet grass and tried to think of anything else than giant centipedes and the buzzing of wings. ¡°By the Chariot Geezer, by the bloody Chariot.¡±

 Chapter 6

    After his brush with death, Oak passed the time by walking around his safe haven with Geezer. He tried to find something to eat, but there was nothing he recognized as edible, and it would take some time before he started eating bark in desperation.


    If it comes to that, bark would be my last resort, anyway.


    He entertained a faint hope that grass or leaves would taste better. At least they would be easier to chew. Strangely, he did not feel that hungry. Or thirsty, as he thought of it. He drank some of the water dripping from the foliage just to see how it tasted, but other than that, he felt content.


    Geezer was having the time of his life, sliding and rolling in the wet grass. Looking at the goofball brought a smile to Oak¡¯s face. If nothing else, he was not alone and there was comfort in that.


    Oak waited, but dusk never came. It was pretty preposterous that sunlight was reaching a maple grove inside a giant workshop, but never-ending daylight was plenty suspicious on its own. He decided to climb one of the large trees so he could see where the sunlight was coming from. Geezer did not like this decision at all, and the dog started barking the second Oak began hauling himself up.


    Geezer had always held the wise opinion that humans should stick close to the ground, and preferably move calmly without unnecessary running or loud noises. Oak was used to his dog''s antics and ignored them. Getting high enough to pierce the cover of the leaves was tricky, since the branches were getting narrower and narrower, but he managed it in the end and stuck his head above the foliage.


    Oak¡¯s eye widened in shock and he almost lost his grip and fell from the tree. Above him was the roof of the giant workshop, cast in shadows. Chains descended from the darkness, dangling like the entrails of some massive carcass, dripping ichor and shrouded in mist. Above him was also a clear blue sky and a bright, blinding sun that shined upon him, enveloping him in its embrace.


    It was like the memory of the sun back home on a pleasant summer day when he was little, running around in the valley with his friends, fooling about without care. The visions were both existing simultaneously, superimposing themselves upon one another in ways that made his mind lurch. Oak had to look away and shake his head. Just looking at the sight was giving him a headache.


    ¡°This is without a doubt some absolute bullshit,¡± Oak growled and tried to squint at the impossible twisting and layering of space above him. He was seeing two things at once, and his brain could not keep up. Blinding pain stabbed him behind the eyes and he had to abandon the effort before he suffered a stroke.


    Oak climbed down slowly, a headache pulsing behind his eyes. This was all too much. He needed to think about what this all meant, but there was only white noise in his head. His ears were ringing, like church bells calling the congregation to mass. A horrifying conclusion was worming its way through his mind, but he did not dare voice the thought. As if saying it out loud would make it real.


    Even more confused than before, Oak dropped to the grass and flopped on his back. Geezer licked his face for a time, and then curled up next to him, tired from all the excitement. Oak closed his eyes and thought of his homestead. He gave it even odds a group of Shaw¡¯s men had ransacked the place and burned it to the ground. It took a long time for him to fall asleep.


    ***


    Considering what Oak had been thinking about before sleep claimed him, it was not surprising he dreamed of home. He found himself in the house his old man had built, sitting at the table with a bowl of stew in front of him. It was so familiar it hurt. All the tools hanging on the walls, fire crackling in the oven, and a faint smell of tobacco in the air. Candles illuminated the room and cast shadows onto the walls.


    His old man sat opposite him across the table, eating from his own bowl, and looking at him with inquisitive eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve had quite a day, haven¡¯t you,¡± his father said and winked at Oak. ¡°Not a bad overall showing though.¡±


    Oak did not know what to say. He stared up at his old man in silence. What did you say to a dead parent, who should by all rights be ashamed of their son? In that moment, the guilt was almost too much to bear. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him and he choked up.


    ¡°Oh, none of that now, boy,¡° Oak¡¯s father said and drank the rest of his stew down in one go. ¡°We have a limited amount of time afforded to us and much to go over. You will have questions and I will try to answer them to the best of my ability. But first you need to truly open those eyes of yours.¡±


    Something was not right. Why was he looking up at his father? He had been taller than his old man. And on that note, was his father so handsome when he was still alive? He certainly did not have a full head of black hair like the man sitting across the table. Nor such high cheekbones.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    It felt like a haze was lifting from his mind. Oak lifted a finger, leaned down and looked under the table. The person sitting across from him had two legs. One of those legs belonged to a man. The other was the leg of a rooster. Oak lifted his gaze and leaned back in his chair, staring across the table with his mouth open in shock.


    ¡°What?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Took you long enough, dear Oak,¡± said Ashmadei, the Demon of Wrath. ¡°You have questions on the tip of your tongue, and I don¡¯t think you will be able to concentrate properly before you get an answer to them, so ask away.¡±


    For an instant, Oak saw a grand hall made of giant skulls with broken crowns on their heads, and Ashmadei sitting on top of a melted throne, a lance in hand. He had three heads; the first like a bull, the second like a man, and the third like a ram. Liquid flame dripped from his lips, and his breath was cinder and smoke. The tail of a serpent stretched behind him and vanished into the eye socket of a gigantic skull wearing an iron crown.


    The visage vanished, and just the tall and handsome man with a rooster¡¯s leg remained.


    Oak swallowed. ¡°Where did the ritual you recommended transport us?¡± he asked.


    Ashmadei looked apologetic. ¡°Oak, you know that already. You just fear the answer. Now, in my defense, I must say that I could not find another way to keep you and your lovely dog in one piece,¡± he replied. ¡°You are very lucky to be alive at all, since in normal circumstances I would not have noticed the dormant drop of God¡¯s blood on that shroud inside the old church. The passing of so many souls in the vicinity must have stirred it up.¡±


    Ashmadei crossed his fingers under his chin and looked Oak straight in the eye. ¡°You are in Ma''aseh Merkavah, or as it is known in common parlance, the City of God.¡±


    Oak closed his eyes for a moment as his fears were realized and let out a tired laugh. ¡°Figures. I am inside the Doom of the Old Empire.¡± He gave Ashmedai a pleading look. ¡°Please tell me the dragon is asleep?¡±


    ¡°Yam-Nahar slumbers still. The dragon has gorged himself on God¡¯s dead flesh and is now digesting his meal. Bit by bit he consumes all that he, and the Elven Empress Aoibheann, called to creation from the highest heaven over three hundred years ago,¡± Ashmedai said.


    ¡°Is there a way out of this place?¡± Oak asked. ¡°I¡¯ve heard it said that the entire city twists upon itself, forming a sphere.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. There are many ways out of the city for someone as small as you, but you won¡¯t find them without help, no matter what aid I give you. Luckily for you, I have a proposition in mind,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°I think you will find it agreeable.¡±


    Oak beckoned him to continue and said, ¡°Let''s hear it then.¡±


    Ashmedai spread his hands. ¡°How would you like to help me fulfill an oath by saving a soul from centuries of torment so you can escape Ma''aseh Merkavah together? After that little adventure is done with, you can begin the long and arduous journey to save the continent from a dragon¡¯s folly.¡±


    ¡°Well, that is a lot to take in,¡± Oak said. ¡°Is the dragon whose folly I would be stopping called Yam-Nahar?¡±


    Ashmedai just smiled and winked at him.


    ¡°This is one of those things where you need the answer now, isn''t it?¡± Oak asked.


    Ashmedai nodded. ¡°I will naturally make you into my Warlock and install an infernal engine into your soul. It¡¯s the least I can do, considering the circumstances.¡±


    Oak was once again shocked, speechless. The past day had already been a trying experience and the shocks just kept coming, one after the other. Finally he spoke with a wavering voice: ¡°You would make me a warlock? Why? I forsook you; I fought for a king with no noble reason or justification.¡± Oak lowered his head in shame. ¡°You would honor me so, even though I shamed myself?¡±


    Ashmedai looked at Oak with a mix of sadness and anger on his face. The demon¡¯s eyes burned like hot coals, piercing Oak with their gaze. ¡°I will admit you roused my anger, Oak. But you were seventeen and had just lost your father. I try my best to reserve most of my wrath for my enemies, not my followers,¡± he said. ¡°But your feelings are half right. You have not yet earned this honor. That just happens to be irrelevant, since whether or not someone has earned it is not the only reason I would make a warlock. The right man in the right place can change the course of history, Oak, and you are very much in the right place at the moment. And you also have some potential.¡±


    Ashmedai leaned forward. ¡°Have you ever considered that you might sell yourself short? The man before me is no meager lamb who believes in the divine rights of kings.¡±


    Oak tried to steady the wild beating of his heart. ¡°Then you know my acceptance was never in doubt either,¡± he said. ¡°I will say it again. You honor me beyond words.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Ashmadei said, and a smile graced his face. ¡°Our time is limited. Let me give you some instructions, so you can fulfill my oath, and escape the deathtrap you are currently in. Then we can figure out what kind of warlock you want to be together.


    ¡°The bigger picture will have to wait, since time is of the essence and contacting you is currently difficult and dangerous for both of us. It will be even more so when you leave the grove behind,¡± the demon said. ¡°Unless you find more safe havens like it, it is likely that you will be without my help from here on out, until you walk under the open sky once more.¡±


    Oak gave his assent, and in return Ashmedai gave him a set of directions to one of Empress Aoibheann¡¯s favorite summer palaces on the outskirts of the center of Ma''aseh Merkavah. The directions were based on a map that was over four hundred years old. That did not make Oak feel terribly confident, but Ashmedai assured him there was nothing to worry about.


    Then it was time to get down to brass tacks.

 Chapter 7

    ¡°So, how is this going to work?¡± Oak asked. He was excited and overwhelmed by equal measure. This was probably the most important moment of his life.


    ¡°I will install the infernal engine to your soul and provide a tiny drop of my essence to serve as fuel. This will allow me to grant you some power, but your body can not handle too much at first,¡± Ashmedai said, and grinned devilishly. ¡°It needs time to adapt and attune to the engine, or you will literally melt yourself.


    ¡°If you wish to grow in strength, your path is straightforward. You need souls to fuel your engine. In all the ways that matter, a Warlock keeps what he kills,¡± Ashmedai explained. ¡°It should come as no surprise, though, that all souls are not made equal. A single human soul, for example, is worth the same amount as quite a lot of those flying centipedes you encountered, since they are meager creatures and they only have a nefesh, the lowest, animalistic part of a soul.


    ¡°Besides the nefesh, sentient beings also have a ruach, the middle soul which contains their moral virtues, and a neshamah, the higher soul which makes true intellect possible.¡±


    ¡°This might be a dumb question and I will accept your offer either way, but I must know. Will the infernal engine hurt the souls placed inside it?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°That is not a foolish question. A less curious man would not bother himself with such details. It is to your credit that you do,¡± Ashmedai said and spent a moment gathering his thoughts. ¡°Do not fear. A soul without a body can experience neither pain nor consciousness inside creation. There are some edge cases, but this is not one of them.¡±


    Ashmedai produced a pipe, filled it with something that Oak did not recognize, lit it with the snap of his fingers, and continued speaking. ¡°Just installing the engine will make you slightly faster, stronger, and tougher than you would otherwise be. The changes will happen gradually in the span of a week or two. In addition, I estimate that in their current condition, your body and soul can handle at most two or three boons before you melt into primordial goo.¡±


    Oak nodded and leaned forward. ¡°That seems simple enough, though I imagine it is, in truth, enormously complicated. What boons can you grant me? And what do you think I should pick?¡± he asked. ¡°This probably does not come as a surprise, but I need something to either kill those centipedes or sneak myself and Geezer past them. I assume you have some suggestions?¡±


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do,¡± Ashmadei replied and waved his hand. An image of a vast night sky filled to the brim with a tapestry of cosmic foliage was brought into being. Knotted branches glowing with sparks of power twisted around each other as they vanished into infinity. And right at the heart of the vision, stood a young tree without a single branch on its trunk. It was waiting for a boon to be grafted onto it. The vision kept expanding until it filled Oak¡¯s sight completely.


    ¡°This is just a representation, but it works well enough for our purposes. Every spark you see is a boon or an addition to one,¡± Ashmedai said. A particular branch floated before Oak. ¡°You can¡¯t go wrong with the classics. The Branch of Flauros would give you an intuitive understanding of fire and the ability to cast it. More importantly, it is the first stepping stone you will need to cast hellfire in the future. That is not relevant at the moment, of course. If you attempted to cast hellfire at your current strength, you would burn your own soul into a crisp.¡±


    ¡°Definitely don¡¯t want to do that,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°As your demon, I don¡¯t recommend it,¡± Ashmedai said in a dry voice. ¡°If you choose this branch, it will allow us to do a little trick, which will make dealing with the centipedes easier. When I insert the infernal engine and my essence, you will, for a brief time, be absolutely filled with demonic potential. If you act with haste, you could cast extremely impressive flames without burning yourself up. Just once, though.¡±


    ¡°And if I want to do something like that again, I would need to grow in strength and work myself up to it, I imagine?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Exactly. This would give you an offensive option and be an investment towards the future. The rest you should choose mostly by yourself. Experience has shown me that warlocks should choose boons that suit them, and who better to make that choice than yourself,¡± Ashmedai said and settled down to give Oak time to think.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Oak pondered for a bit before voicing his thoughts. ¡°Ma''aseh Merkavah is full of things that could kill me without breaking a sweat, isn''t it?¡± he asked. ¡°I am going to need something that lets me see or hear things coming before I stumble upon them. Especially since I definitely want to avoid using theurgy and entering the Waking Dream as much as possible. The Dream here must be filled with horrors.¡±


    ¡°It would be wise to leave theurgy as an absolute last resort, yes,¡± Ashmedai said. He tapped his chin with his fingers as he thought out loud: ¡°What about the Branch of Amdusias? It would grant you sharp hearing and magical echolocation.¡± Seeing Oak¡¯s look of incomprehension, he continued: ¡°You know how bats fly in the woods in the dead of night and don¡¯t run into trees or each other? It is kind of like seeing your environment through sound. Very useful, if unconventional.¡±


    Oak shrugged his shoulders. ¡°If you say so. It sounds like it could fit my needs. Is it going to be a problem if I run into really loud noises?¡± he asked.


    Ashmedai waved him off. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m no third rate devil. You will be able to control the intensity so your eardrums don¡¯t explode.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I will give it a try,¡± Oak said and leaned back in his chair. He still had a single power to choose. While he pondered, Ashmedai smoked his pipe and started showing off, blowing rings of smoke from his mouth. They circled the table and sometimes passed through each other.


    Oak¡¯s thoughts went back to what he knew best, and he thought of the war. Marching, raiding and waiting around for something to happen. One battle after another, sliding around in fields turned into mud, hacking men apart and holding the line. A memory rose to the forefront of him lying on a bedroll in his tent after a battle, twisting and turning with a fever, limbs weak and the spear wound in his thigh throbbing with pain. Maybe I have some wits after all, he thought.


    Oak brought his focus back to the present. ¡°I have made a decision. I am humble enough to admit that I won¡¯t get through this without getting hurt. It only takes one mistake and I, for sure, will make a couple of those. I need something to keep me going or heal my injuries so my first blunder doesn''t kill me,¡± he said.


    Ahmedai shook his head and laughed. ¡°A staggeringly mature choice, my boy. I approve. Healing is a very potent ability so you will not get far with a single boon, but it is a start which you can expand upon later,¡± he said. ¡°I would recommend we choose a boon from the Branch of Buer then, since it is a multipurpose branch.


    ¡°You will heal a lot faster than a normal man, but sadly, the regeneration won¡¯t be fast enough to be of any use in a fight. Not that any healing you could afford right now would be of use in battle. A broken bone that would take six to eight weeks of rest to heal will now heal in a single week. In addition, you will also recover from physical activity faster and you won¡¯t tire as easily.¡±


    Oak thought about it for a bit, but in all honesty, it just felt like the right decision to make. ¡°I am going to listen to my gut here and take it,¡± he said.


    ¡°Marvelous,¡± Ashmedai said. He took one last drag from his pipe and then put it out. With a snap of his fingers, the pipe vanished. ¡°So, three branches: Flauros, Amdusias and Buer. Fine choices, and a good foundation to build upon in the future,¡±


    The demon clapped his hands together and stood up. ¡°I am going to make you unconscious for the duration of the installation and grafting process,¡± he said. ¡°Can you believe that when I was doing this for the first time millennia ago, I did it while my prospective warlock was wide awake?¡± Ashmedai shuddered. ¡°Some screams just stay with you, you know? The mess was unbelievable. Nowadays, I don¡¯t operate on anyone''s soul without putting them out like a light.¡±


    ¡°That genuinely makes me feel a lot better,¡± Oak lied. He stood up as well. ¡°One last thing, though.¡±


    The fire in the cabin¡¯s oven had wilted to mere cinders, and the light provided by the candles was dimming. They were almost out of time. Ashmedai lifted an eyebrow.


    ¡°It''s about Geezer. I know I have no right to ask and you have done a lot for me already, but this does not sound like the type of mission he is going to survive as he is now. Can you give him a fighting chance?¡± Oak asked. ¡°He is a big coward, but I love him.¡±


    Ashmedai seemed to consider it. ¡°There were boons you could have taken to empower another person or an animal, but I did not and do not recommend them for you,¡± the demon said. ¡°You are a man who wants to be in the middle of the fight, not hiding somewhere leading your legion of animal companions. Personal power is also a vastly safer bet in your current situation. But, I understand your concern. What the hell, I will do my best.¡±


    ¡°From the bottom of my heart, thank you,¡± Oak said and bowed low.


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s time for us to say goodbye for the moment. See you on the other side, Oak, if you survive and give Geezer a scratch for me when you wake up,¡± Ashmedai said, and snapped his fingers.


    That was the last thing Oak saw, before darkness took him and he drifted beyond thought and time.

 Chapter 8

    A maple leaf fell on Oak¡¯s face. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking in the bright sunlight. A cold snout poked his cheek and gave Geezer a pet. ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m getting up now,¡± he said and climbed to his feet. He gave Geezer a once-over and almost fell back on his ass. The dog''s fur was no longer gray. Now it was almost completely black and Oak was sure the dog was bigger than before.


    Geezer''s height at the withers was at the midway point between Oak¡¯s knees and hips now. And most importantly, when Oak looked at Geezer¡¯s eyes, two gleaming red irises stared back at him.


    ¡°Did Ashmedai turn you into an actual hellhound?¡± Oak asked, barely able to contain his excitement.


    Geezer just wagged his tail but there did not seem to be anything wrong with him, so Oak let the matter rest for the moment. And give Geezer some scratches. It¡¯s not everyday one becomes a warlock. Let''s take a look at the goods, he thought and focused inwards, trying to feel his soul. It would be highly embarrassing to be a warlock and not be able to inspect his own infernal engine.


    Oak was not a mage, which meant he had no experience with viewing his own soul or using it to influence the world around him through thaumaturgy, so it came as a complete surprise when he succeeded immediately. In his mind''s eye, he saw his soul as a bright ball of solid flame made of opaque layers.


    Inside that ball was now a spiral shape of black gleaming metal flowing back into itself, surrounded by ever-turning gears. At the very top burned a furnace of such intensity that it was hard to focus on it. Ashmedai¡¯s essence flowed through the spiral to the furnace to fuel it and then back down so it could make its journey up the spiral once more.


    Like a snake eating its own tail.


    There was quite a bit of essence bouncing around in his soul, left over from his ascension to a Warlock. It was dripping out of him to the world beyond. Behind it all, he could glimpse his three boons, the branches they belonged to and a vast, ever expanding night sky filled with tiny sparks glistening among an infinite foliage. His future, waiting to be claimed.


    When Oak brought his focus back to the real world, there was something waiting for him. A big blue box filled his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Dear Warlock,


    I took the liberty of putting this interface together, so you would have a quick way to check the status of your infernal engine. For the sake of convenience, I included a section for your theurgy. Just think or say the word ¡®Status¡¯ and the interface will appear.


    The infernal engine section of the interface shows two counts: Souls and Fuel.


    ''Souls'' tells you the total number of souls you have collected thus far. ''Fuel'', on the other hand, tells you the approximate potency of the souls, which are not yet powering a boon. Those can be allocated toward new branches or boons in the future.


    As you know, all souls are not made equal. One unit of ''Fuel'' is the potency of the average human soul. For example, the souls of ten of those centipedes you are about to face equal roughly a single human soul.


    Infernal regards,


    Ashmedai


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Infernal engine


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Souls: 0</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Fuel: 0</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Attunement in progress</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Grafted branches


    </td>


    <td>


    Boons


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Flauros


    </td>


    <td>


    Pyromancy: grants an intuitive understanding of fire and the basic ability to summon it.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Amdusias


    </td>


    <td>


    Ears of Amdusias: grants sharp hearing and the basic ability to see one''s environment through sound.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Buer


    </td>


    <td>


    Demonic Constitution: grants basic regeneration, lessens fatigue, and increases the rate of recovery from physical activity.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Theurgy


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ghosts: 7</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Wards


    </td>


    <td>


    Attached ghosts: 3


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Trauma weapons


    </td>


    <td>


    Kaarina¡¯s Horror


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Scouts


    </td>


    <td>


    Raven


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Miscellaneous ghosts


    </td>


    <td>


    Sparrow


    Cat


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Neat.


    Standing around looking at his soul or his status would not make things any easier, so Oak got to work. According to Ashmedai, he did not have long before even trying to cast a spell of this magnitude would end badly for him. Oak rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. ¡°Come on Geezer, we have a bunch of bugs to burn and we are wasting daylight,¡± he said, took his sword and shield and started walking towards the edge of the maple grove.


    When Oak walked across the boundary between the forest and the workshop beyond, the accuracy of his new hearing amazed him. The last time he walked into the darkness of the workshop, he had no idea the ceiling was a churning mass of centipedes. Now, he could hear them moving above him, tiny legs skittering in the shadows.


    Oak tapped his sword against the edge of his shield, and a new world opened to him. The wave of sound traveled forth and the returning echo painted a rough image of the surroundings to his mind. Giant smelters, assembly lines, forges and chimneys, and the piping connecting different pieces of the workshop together were laid bare in all their rusty glory. So were the insects on the ceiling and Oak received a snapshot of the disgusting centipedes crawling over each other like flies on carrion.


    Naturally, Oak banged his sword against his shield, making an awful racket. Suddenly, the ceiling was filled with eyes, looking right at him. There was a brief moment of hesitation before a single giant centipede took flight towards him and a tide of chitin and hungry maws followed. Oak stared at the approaching wave of buzzing wings and open mandibles with a strange sense of detachment. The horror and malice reaching towards him was so great, it almost did not feel real.


    He dropped his shield and called for the flame inside his soul. The fire answered and Oak cast, with his left hand, pointed towards the coming swarm. ¡°Perish,¡± he said, and then all he could see was the fire. Flames exploded violently from his palm in a great blue and white cone, blasting through the insects and scouring even the ceiling high above. The heat of it was unbelievable. For three heartbeats, Oak burned the horrors arrayed against him from the world and their screeching was like music to his ears.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    When Oak staggered to the side and cut out the flames due to the strain on his soul, only desolation met his eyes. Ash rained to the workshop floor and the chains hanging from the ceiling had melted, dripping molten metal over the labyrinth of iron and steel in front of him. A lone centipede flew at him from the side and Oak bisected the monster with a single brutal swing of his blade, sending the two halves flying in different directions, spraying ichor and gore. Silence descended.


    Oak breathed hard, panting from the exertion. Sweat covered his body and his hands were shaking. Oak took a couple of steps back beyond the boundary of the grove and fell on his ass on the soft grass, staring at the devastation he had wrought.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be,¡± he said. A notification popped up in the upper right corner of his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 31 Souls


    + 3 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Geezer popped his head out from behind a nearby tree and looked around, making sure the coast was clear of any flying monsters ready to sink their mandibles into him before he ran out to Oak and started licking his face, tail wagging around madly.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah I love you too buddy,¡± Oak said, and after scratching the dog behind the ears for a bit, he gently pushed him away. ¡°Sorry, but everything has its time and place, and right now, we really need to get moving.¡±


    Oak stood back up, picked up the shield he had dropped, and returned to the grove.


    Water was still streaming down the foliage of the maple trees, forming little rivers as it fell down to the forest floor. Oak put his mouth under one of these little waterfalls and took his time drinking his fill. He currently had no way to store water, so if he could not find a suitable container or something prevented him from returning here to fill it, this might be his only chance to drink for a long time. After curiously turning his head this way and that, Geezer followed his example and drank as well.


    When Oak had quenched his thirst, he took another look at his soul and the infernal engine within. There, in the now familiar spiral of gleaming black metal flowing back into itself, tiny motes had joined Ashmedai¡¯s essence. The gears turned and the souls of the centipedes cycled along, rising to the top of the structure to fuel the furnace and heading down so they could once more feed the flame inside his soul.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start. Oak withdrew from his own soul and waited until Geezer had finished drinking. Then they returned to the edge of the forest and took off to find the essentials needed for a trip across Ma''aseh Merkavah.


    The workshop was much less scary, when a swarm of giant centipedes was no longer using the ceiling as a nest, but that did not mean there was nothing else lurking in the darkness, waiting to sink its teeth into man or dog. Oak and Geezer took their time as they walked among the rusted smelters, worktables, and other machinery. There was no need to rush and make noise.


    The place was massive, but thanks to Oak¡¯s new ability to see his surroundings through sound, finding a way out through the darkness was not overly difficult. There were multiple exits and Oak chose one on the northern side of the building based on the fact nothing had used it in a while, since there was a layer of dust all around it.


    Stepping outside was an experience.


    Before the Doom, Ma''aseh Merkavah had been the massive capital of the Old Empire. Now, it was both a tomb of a great civilization and the cocoon of a calamity. There was no sunlight or any other visible light-source, and yet it was not utterly dark. To Oak, it felt more like a cloudless night with a full moon than anything else.


    Oak raised his gaze and wherever his eyes landed he saw more streets, squares, parks and buildings until he was looking straight up and still the city continued, curving back down towards the ground miles behind him. The summoning of God¡¯s flesh to creation had warped the city around the pieces of the divine corpse, forming a sphere that twisted back on itself.


    He looked across the city, towards the western corner of the central district. There was his landmark, a giant four-sided marble obelisk in the middle of a large square, rising above the surrounding buildings. He let out a breath and shook his head. Getting there will not be easy, Oak thought. Let¡¯s hope my luck holds.


    Based on the buildings around him, Oak assumed they were in some kind of commercial or manufacturing quarter of this section of the city. There was the workshop he and Geezer had just left, a giant beast made of stone and red brick, and all along the street were buildings that looked like warehouses, with large double doors that would allow entire wagons to enter and leave easily. Chimneys rose from the darkness, hinting at smithies and forges that had laid cold for centuries. And yet, beyond the dust and grime, everything looked almost pristine.


    Some street lights and lanterns hanging from the sides of the buildings still burned, runes glowing in the darkness. The city was undisturbed by the elements of the world outside the sphere and Elven construction was built to last. Whoever had erected these buildings had loved plaster. Every exterior stone- and brick wall had been covered so they could be painted and the street was a riot of different colors competing against each other.


    Oak and Geezer crossed the road and stuck to the side of the buildings as they creeped forward along the cobblestones. Once upon a time, millions had called this place home and now the loudest noise Oak could hear was the beating of his own heart hammering in his ears. Strangest of all, there were no corpses or skeletons, no sign of the people that had once lived here. He could admit that the city was spooky.


    After walking for about five minutes, Oak stopped next to a promising looking three-story stone building with a flat roof. He could not read the sign out front, but there were no broken windows or anything else that would indicate something had used the place as a nest. When Oak peaked inside, he saw a small counter and some shelves in the back. A small shop might be just what he needed.


    The door was not unlocked, so he and Geezer walked right in. A cursory examination revealed nothing useful. Whatever had been for sale on the counter or on the shelves behind it was long gone and only trash remained. The counter had a drawer though and there Oak struck gold. He smiled as he pulled out two steel flasks, probably made to hold alcohol. The flasks were empty, but he could fill them with water. He would need more containers, but this was a good start.


    Emboldened by success, Oak headed to the back of the shop and opened a door that led further into the building. He promptly closed it and rubbed his face in agitation. ¡°Geezer, why does the first place I decide to look into have to be a butcher¡¯s shop?¡± Oak asked and opened the door again with trepidation.


    Behind the door was a large room filled with meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Some hooks still had a skeleton hanging from them, but the meat had already rotted away to nothing. Oak was not embarrassed by the fact that he squinted at every single one, making sure the skeletons belonged to cows before he stepped into the room. He did not want to find himself swinging from a meat hook.


    For a moment, memories whisked Oak back in time. In place of the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, he saw hanged men and women swinging from the branches of a great tree. Dark clouds and distant lightning framed the macabre spectacle. He could feel the wind and the drizzle on his cheeks, and hear the Butcher¡¯s laughter. The Butcher had always enjoyed his work. The sound of the door closing behind Oak almost made him piss his trousers.


    Shaken but otherwise unharmed, Oak crossed the room without issue, and Geezer followed. On the far wall, next to a double door leading outside, was a tool rack and a stand that drew his eye. There was a giant, brutal looking meat cleaver hanging from the stand in a leather sheath. He grabbed it and let out a small whistle. The blade of the cleaver alone was longer than his forearm, and the thing had a reassuring weight to it.


    Oak took it out of the sheath and stroked the well-oiled steel surface of the blade. A shiver ran down his spine. There were runes carved into the blade and he could feel ghosts embedded in the metal. Oak doubted the enchantments were anything major, but he would probably find that this cleaver did not require sharpening and was lighter to swing than it should have been. He snorted. Typical for the elves to enchant even their butcher''s tools. You can never have too many blades, Oak thought.


    ¡°Finders keepers, am I right Geezer,¡± Oak said and clipped the sheath to his belt. It felt right.


    Searching the rest of the building from top to bottom revealed no more treasures for Oak to pilfer, so he and Geezer left the building and started breaking into the warehouses they had already passed. Oak did not want to venture too far away from the grove inside the workshop before he had the means to bring enough water with him to last at least a couple of days.


    The first warehouse was a bust, mainly housing raw materials, but in the second warehouse, Oak had opened only a couple of crates before he found a crate of wine. He was not brave enough to drink the wine itself, but he could clean the bottles and fashion stoppers for them or reuse the corks if it was possible.


    Now he just had to solve the minor problem of transporting the bottles and his flasks, since he could not carry everything in his hands and hold a shield and a sword at the same time. Running around Ma''aseh Merkavah with his hands full and no way to draw a blade without dropping all of his water to the ground did not seem like a smart idea.


    Oak almost gave up hope of finding anything useful, since the passage of time had surely destroyed every sack and other piece of available cloth, but Elven enthusiasm for enchanting everything came to his rescue. A section of the warehouse held crates with runes carved on them that Oak was fairly sure had something to do with preservation. He popped one crate open.


    I can¡¯t believe it. Fortune favors me today!


    There were sacks and rope inside the crate, and they had not rotted away during the centuries this building had stood abandoned. He took four sacks and some rope with him so he could fashion a primitive backpack.


    Laden with their salvaged goods, Oak and Geezer returned to the maple grove. In no time at all, Oak had filled the bottles with water and stuffed them inside the backpack he had fashioned out of sacks and rope. He tied all the extra rope he had around the glass bottles so they would not clink against each other. As Oak stepped outside the workshop once more, he looked across the city to the obelisk and nodded to himself.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go fulfill Ashmedai¡¯s oath, save that sorry bastard and get out of here,¡± Oak said to Geezer and put one foot in front of the other.

 Chapter 9

    Sticking to side roads and alleys seemed like a smart thing to do, and that¡¯s what Oak and Geezer mostly did. Just walking around the empty streets was nerve-racking. There was a certain pressure in the air, almost like the feeling before a heavy thunderstorm. It weighed him down and made his thoughts turn to old slights and disappointments.


    After a nasty memory from his childhood suddenly resurfaced, Oak shook himself and strengthened his wards as much as he was able. Bloody knives and squealing pigs had featured enough times in his nightmares as a child. There was no need to walk down memory lane. He was pretty sure the Waking Dream in this place was filled with such malice that it seeped into the real world.


    Once in a while they had to cross a large main road and every time Oak waited and watched for any signs of movement, before risking the crossing. The citizens of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah had painted their houses and apartment buildings in visually striking colors, like bright greens and yellows, which gave the empty streets a disturbing, contradictory look. Every window seemed like a watchful eye looking straight at him, and after a while the doorways looked like hungry maws ready to swallow him whole.


    Each time they walked under a balcony, Oak expected some nameless horror to fall on his neck. Unnatural wind caused the mist hanging in the air to swirl in haunting patterns, and he was sure he saw faces forming in the murky fog. Oak felt the constant need to glance behind himself. Sounds of whispers at the edge of his hearing, and the scurrying of clawed feet on hard stone, echoed in his mind. He was imagining things. Surely?


    Whether or not the noises were real, Oak¡¯s imagination was running wild. Every shadow hid a beast more terrifying than the last. The sensation of eyes watching him from the darkness was overwhelming, and cold shivers traveled down his spine. If the thought had not been so absurd, he would have been sure the city itself hated his presence. Despite his discomfort, no monster leaped from the darkness and yet the longer they traveled without interruption, the more anxious he became.


    Oak and Geezer had been walking for a couple of hours when they once again arrived at a junction with a large road. It was the widest roadway yet. An army could have easily marched down it to war and there would have been room to spare.


    He swallowed a curse.


    Fog covered the entire thoroughfare, and he could not see clearly to the other side. Across the road and on his right, the bell-tower of an ancient church rose over the blanket of fog to tower over the nearby buildings like a silent guardian. A couple of flickering lanterns glowed through the fog, fighting a losing battle against the encroaching darkness.


    ¡°No use crying about it, just have to get to it,¡± Oak murmured, more to himself than Geezer, and after a brief moment of listening for any sounds and not hearing anything, they ran across the road. As he ran, a cold shiver crawled up his spine and settled between his shoulder blades.


    When he reached the other side, Oak turned around, sword drawn. There was nothing there. Just fog. He stood there, panting and straining his hearing. Then he heard it. Thanks to the Ears of Amdusias, he could discern the sound of claws dragging on stone, up the road. Oak and Geezer looked at each other and collectively decided that discretion was the better part of valor. They sneaked away from the main road as silently as they could, glancing behind themselves all the while.


    For a long time they moved without even a whispered word or the faintest bark, wincing at every noise caused by stepping on a loose stone or piece of rubbish, stopping every once in a while to listen if they were being followed, but only silence greeted them. After an hour had passed and nothing seemed to follow in their footsteps, Oak let out a sigh of relief and stopped to give Geezer some scratches.


    If we make it out of this place intact, this city is going to haunt my nightmares for a long time.


    ***


    Oak was beginning to hate wide roads. He and Geezer were in a small park, next to an entrance which led to one of the main roadways going across the entire city. The trees were dead, and piles of garbage were strewn around the park, giving the whole place a dreadful demeanor.


    On their left, the park transitioned into some type of market square with faded but colorful stalls and food carts haphazardly lying around the place. Some were still standing, while others had failed the test of time and fallen down. Storefronts and what Oak suspected to be taverns and bars circled the entire square.


    He was just about to leave the safety of the fence he and Geezer were hiding behind and rush across the road, when all color left his face and Oak found himself rooted on the spot, staring into the fog covering the road.


    A pair of enormous horns emerged from the fog at the height of the roofs of nearby three-story buildings. The horns preceded the giant skull of a deer buck. The spawn of the Pit walked on two long legs, and a cloak made of crow feathers and rat tails covered his lanky frame. His hands ended in claws that looked like the blades of scythes.


    Oak ducked back into cover and pressed himself against the fence, staring at the monster through a gap in the planks. Without noticing it, he had grabbed a hold of Geezer and held the dog tight. A Leshen. A bloody Swarm-Priest of Abaddon. Some years back, one had been sighted in King Jair¡¯s lands. They needed multiple spellsingers and grafted to drive him away. By Ashmedai¡¯s collection of broken crowns, what the fuck is it with this place? Oak thought in horrified awe.


    By the grace of long dead God and every angel and demon Oak could name, the horror on two legs did not notice him or Geezer. It continued on its path along the road at a languid pace and vanished into the fog like it was never there.


    Geezer whined. ¡°Not now, boy. You have to keep quiet. If that thing hears us, we are dead,¡± Oak whispered.


    Geezer whined again and struggled wildly. Oak turned towards the dog and froze once more. In his peripheral vision, a large pile of trash had just stood up. Or, more accurately, what he had thought to be a pile of trash was, in reality, a fat ogre. Two little beady eyes under the thing''s heavy brows focused on him and Geezer, and the humanoid straightened his wide, twelve foot tall frame.


    The ogre¡¯s skin was the color of tanned leather and he was wearing trousers held up by suspenders stretching across his naked belly. It was rare for Oak to have to crane his neck upwards to look someone in the eye, and he did not enjoy the experience one bit.


    The ogre smiled and licked his tusks. ¡°What a pleasant surprise. Breakfast has delivered itself to my doorstep,¡± the ogre said and picked up a mean-looking club from the pile of trash he had been sleeping on. ¡°Now, be a doll and stay still.¡± The ogre laughed and charged forward.


    Oak threw Geezer towards the market square and started running. Geezer was on the ball and the dog landed in a dead sprint. He was not far behind. From the corner of his eye he saw the ogre winding up to hit him straight into next week and Oak dove forward, sliding on the dead grass.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    The earth shook behind him, and the ogre let out a disappointed grumble. Oak scrambled up again and continued to make some distance between himself and the ogre. His legs pumped like mad as he jumped over the fence between the market square and the park and dove behind a food cart.


    The ogre followed with long and sure steps, walking right through the fence like it was not even there. ¡°Stop this foolishness. My dear mother always said that running is bad for one¡¯s digestion,¡± the ogre said and rubbed its fat belly. ¡°My stomach agrees.¡±


    Even though there was a hungry ogre on his tail, Oak had the presence of mind to look around for Geezer and he saw the dog had hidden under a half collapsed stall on his left. He had to decide whether they would fight or run and he had to decide now because he could not fight while he was carrying all of their water. Before he could decide, the ogre took the choice from him.


    Oak heard the ogre sniff the air, and he let out a sigh of frustration. I forgot they have such an excellent sense of smell. There ain¡¯t no way we lose him in these streets without running headfirst into something else. He took off his backpack and started running again, only stopping to stuff it under an intact food cart. The ogre followed, giddy with excitement.


    A stall that had once upon a time sold sausages provided Oak with adequate cover from the ogres'' prying eyes. He hid behind the stall and waited for his moment, sword and shield ready. The ogre stomped forwards; the earth shaking with every heavy step of tree-trunk like feet.


    ¡°Come out, come out, delicious appetizers. I will cook you well, I promise. Skin you and roast you on an open flame. I will eat you with pepper and onion,¡± the ogre said. The beastly cooking enthusiast was so close, Oak could hear the drool dripping from his mouth.


    ¡°Come to Gluk, I will gently treat your tender meat.¡± The ogre sniggered.


    Oak jumped up and charged. He came from Gluk¡¯s left side and struck the ogre¡¯s hip with his sword as he ran past. The blade had trouble biting through the ogre¡¯s thick skin, and Gluk was fat enough that Oak did not think he harmed anything vital. Only a trickle of blood stained his blade.


    ¡°Ouch! Bad food! Where are your manners?¡± Gluk roared, voice filled with indignation.


    He circled around, keeping something between himself and Gluk at all times. The affronted ogre twisted his head this way and that, trying to locate his assailant among the labyrinth of carts, booths and tables.


    Gluk¡¯s gaze landed on the stall Geezer was hiding under, and he sniffed the air, brow furrowed in suspicion. Oak was forced to act quickly, lest Geezer come in harm''s way, so he rushed to strike at the ogre. Gluk blocked his swing with one of his own and the impact of the heavy club almost ripped the sword from his hands. The ogre''s backswing smashed into his shield, and Oak went flying through a stall. He rolled on the cobblestones, ribs protesting every single meeting with the ground.


    Time to change strategies, Oak thought, and spat blood onto the cobblestones. He heard the approach of the ogre¡¯s heavy footsteps, and the waves of sound painted a picture to his mind. Gluk was charging after him, right towards the remains of the stall he had just crashed through. A very wooden stall, in fact. He rolled over and exerted his soul to summon fire.


    The flames Oak cast were much less intense than the ones he had formed with the help of Ashmedai¡¯s leftover demonic essence, but the ten foot long pillar of orange flame he sent at the stall and the rampaging ogre still put a smile on his face. A heartbeat later, hundreds of pounds of angrily screaming Gluk sent what was left of the burning merchant''s stall flying, and Oak had to scramble out of the way in a hurry.


    Fortunately for Oak, the bellowing ogre did not get through the flames unharmed. Once he was clear of the debris of the burning cart, Gluk dropped to the cobblestones and rolled around to put out the flames clinging to his left side.


    While Gluk rolled on the ground, Oak took a swing at him with his sword, and got hit with a vicious kick in response. The bottom of the ogre¡¯s foot connected with his chest and cracked his ribs. He lost consciousness for a brief moment, but colliding with the front porch of a tavern woke him right up.


    Oak shook his head to clear the stars from his vision and took stock. His sword and shield were somewhere in the square. His ribs were definitely broken and after moving his tongue around for a bit, he concluded he was missing one of his front teeth. If he survived, his chest would look like one giant bruise.


    Best of all, Gluk had climbed back to his feet, and the fat ogre had a murderous look on his ugly face. Gluk¡¯s wounds were dripping blood onto the stone and his left side was one massive burn. Flesh had blackened and bubbled, grotesque chunks hanging on by a thread.


    A vein on Gluk¡¯s forehead throbbed, and he ground his teeth. It sounded like someone was jumping on top of a bag of rocks. The ogre seemed angry beyond words. For some reason, Oak was much less concerned than he knew he should have been. Blood thundered in his ears like a raging river.


    From the corner of his vision, Oak saw Geezer¡¯s black form slink from the safety of one stall to another, as the dog made his way closer. The hellhound''s red eyes peered at him from the shadows, and he could see the indecision in Geezer¡¯s gaze. Oak shook his head ever so slightly. The dog had no chance against Gluk. This is not the time to find your courage, my cowardly friend. Live to see another dawn. Geezer got the message and vanished out of sight.


    Oak hauled himself upright, and there was nothing graceful about it. His cracked ribs pulsed with pain. Every movement brought a new twinge of hurt with it. No matter. It is not like Creation will run out of pain. He looked into Gluk¡¯s bloodshot eyes. Nothing for it. I just have to get it done.


    ¡°Come at me, you fat bastard,¡± he said. Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and stumbled inside the tavern.


    Gluk screamed and charged after him. Oak knew he had at most a couple of heartbeats before the ogre was on him, so immediately after going through the door, he jumped behind the nearest table and dove into the Waking Dream. Desperate times called for desperate measures.


    The cold slapped him in the face and the absolutely delirious amount of pain surging through the Dream almost stunned him. Millions had died within this city and that had left its mark. When Oak opened his eyes in the Dream, a horrific visage confronted him. Eyes and open mouths filled with rotting black teeth lined the walls and the ceiling. Parts of the wall were stretching upwards and eating the ceiling, spilling blood and ripped apart eyeballs on the slimy, rotten floors. Chairs and tables were floating around in the air, bouncing into each other.


    In a state of absolute focus, Oak located Gluk¡¯s mind under the currents of the Dream, and just as the ogre ran through the wall in the real world, he threaded the needle and struck with Kaarina¡¯s Horror through the Dream¡¯s interference. Gluk had a set of wards, but he had no time to analyze them. He just hammered away with the stinger and hoped for the best.


    Oak struck twice and formed a crack on Gluk¡¯s wards, spilling thought-stuff and memories, before the ogre kicked the table he was hiding behind by accident as he ran past. The table slammed against Oak¡¯s chin and he was violently ejected back to his own mind. Once again, Oak laid on the ground, blinking away stars. Through the waves of sound bouncing around the tavern, he could see Gluk running into some type of barrier and taking a tumble over it to a circular pit below.


    Oak turned around and stared.


    There was a fighting pit in the middle of the tavern, embedded deep into the floor. Gluk¡¯s violent entry had made a bit of a mess, but Oak could tell this place had been awesome a couple hundred years back. There were paintings of different fighters on the wooden walls, and some of them seemed to be in good condition. Wrought-iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling and there were enough tables and chairs to fit a village or two inside the place.


    As he walked towards the railing Gluk had stumbled over, Oak drew his hunting knife and the giant meat cleaver he had found from the butcher¡¯s shop. A twisted yearning had awoken inside his heart.


    Ruin is my work. Blood is my sacrament.


    With a smile on his face, Oak jumped down into the pit.

 Chapter 10

    Oak¡¯s lungs worked like bellows as he panted. He was beat to shit, but in that glorious moment, the ache of his body receded, fading into the background. I might be a biased judge, but I am pretty sure you look even worse than I do at the moment, dear ogre. Breath came to him easily as he stared at Gluk with a hungry look on his face.


    Gluk lifted a giant fist in the air. His eyes and nose bled rivulets of blood that dripped onto his burned chest.


    ¡°You have changed my mind. I will not cook you after all,¡± Gluk said. ¡°I will eat you alive, starting with your feet, and listen to your sweet screams as I devour your flesh.¡±


    Oak lifted his cleaver to bring Gluk¡¯s attention to it. ¡°If I slice you enough, will I find a skinny ogre somewhere underneath all that blubber?¡± he asked.


    Gluk roared in rage and charged. Oak pointed his left hand at the ogre and cast a quick burst of flames from the tip of his knife while he dodged out of Gluk¡¯s way. The ogre collided with the fighting pit¡¯s wooden wall, screaming in pain and rage as burnt skin sloughed off his giant bulk. Oak closed the distance, dodged a brutal uppercut and went to work with his blades. He put his back into it and sliced deep into Gluk¡¯s belly with his cleaver.


    Oak circled the ogre, and Gluk threw haymakers at his face, trying to take his head clean off. He was a mouse dodging and weaving, a bear ripping and tearing. His claws were steel, and his flames burned hot like the heart of a forge.


    Gluk stumbled, trying to hold the bleeding wound on his belly closed. ¡°You pestiferous, mutton-headed leper!¡± the ogre shouted. ¡°I hope your cock shrivels and falls off! I hope your balls rot and fester with pus!¡±


    ¡°Your words are wind, fat meat.¡± Oak laughed. ¡°I''ll slice you and dice you to ribbons. Do you not recognize death when you see it?¡±


    He dove under another desperate punch, and stabbed his hunting knife deep into Gluk¡¯s side, close to the armpit. Using his weight, he dragged the knife down against Gluk¡¯s ribs, opening a massive wound which bled like a small river, covering his hands with hot blood. Gluk lashed out and shoved Oak away, knocking the wind right out of him.


    The shove rattled Oak¡¯s already cracked ribs, but the pain of his broken body was a distant afterthought. He gasped for breath, leaning against the wall of the pit. Gluk was now utterly incoherent, roaring insults and swaying on his feet. Oak spat blood on the floor and aimed a stream of flame at the ogre¡¯s face, painting flickering shadows on the wooden walls of the fighting pit.


    Gluk leaned back to dodge the flames and lost his balance. The fat ogre fell down with a mighty crash that shook the earth. Oak seized the opportunity to chop at the ogre¡¯s kneecaps with his cleaver.


    ¡°Whoreson! Arselicker! Pillock!¡± Gluk shouted and attempted to grab a hold of Oak¡¯s leg.


    Oak dodged back, but Gluk surprised him and crawled after him on his destroyed knees. Bleeding from a dozen wounds and suffering from burns that would have killed an ox, Gluk dragged his failing body across the pit, shielding his face from bursts of flame with his left hand. Cornered against the pit¡¯s wall, Oak swung his cleaver down at Gluk¡¯s hand and cut halfway through the bone.


    Gluk screamed. The ogre¡¯s left knee gave out, but as he stumbled to the side, he snatched a hold of Oak¡¯s shoulder and dragged him to the ground.


    Somehow, in the midst of their struggle, Oak ended up on top, while Gluk wrapped his hands around Oak¡¯s midsection. The ogre squeezed down. Snarling and crying, hands shaking from the effort, Gluk gave it his all as he attempted to break Oak in half. The pain almost made him pass out. He spat blood and croaked silently, as air was driven from his lungs and his vision dimmed.


    Like my old man said, if all else fails, be a savage.


    Oak stabbed his hunting knife into Gluk¡¯s right eye. Using the knife as a handhold, he struck the ogre¡¯s skull with his cleaver. He chopped viciously, and the cleaver traveled down, up and back down again, sending blood and chips of bone flying with every desperate strike as the combatants fought to kill each other so they themselves might survive.


    ***


    Oak could not see anymore. There was only the cleaver in his right hand and the trajectory it had to travel. His arm moved almost on its own. Oak was not even sure what he was hitting anymore, when suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel. The crushing pressure vanished and for the first time in what felt like years, Oak drew a breath. He panted and shook, delirious and relieved. Giggles escaped from his mouth, but they hurt so much he had to stop himself from laughing.


    When Oak¡¯s vision returned, the first thing he saw was Gluk¡¯s head, or what was left of it. There were deep wounds all over and the ogre¡¯s skull had broken open at the temple. Oak¡¯s cleaver was embedded in Gluk¡¯s brain. With great effort, Oak pulled the cleaver free and stopped moving. A familiar notification popped up in the upper right corner of his vision.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 1 Soul


    + 3 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Time passed and Oak lay on top of his dead opponent, wondering if moving a limb could possibly hurt more than staying still. He was hurt worse than ever before, bruised and bloodied, ribs broken and a tooth missing. Something was also wrong with his left shoulder. It did not move properly.


    Oak thought it mighty unfair that the excitement of battle faded, while the pain seemed to increase by a factor of ten. But he knew there was nothing for it. He had to move, and he had to move now before consciousness left his body behind.


    Climbing out of the pit was the hardest thing Oak had ever done. Hands shaking with the effort and covered in cold sweat, he dragged himself up, legs slipping against the smooth walls of the pit. When he got over the fence surrounding the pit, he collapsed and lay on the floor gasping like a fish on dry land.


    What I wouldn¡¯t give for a warm meal and a bed with clean sheets.


    Sadly, both things were well out of his reach.


    A tremor disturbed the Waking Dream and something struck Oak¡¯s wards. On pure instinct, he dove into the Dream and it saved his life. The very moment he was back in the Dream¡¯s version of the tavern, Oak  moved left as fast as he could and, in so doing, dodged a strike from a poltergeist. He called forth the ghost of the sparrow, clad himself in the memory construct and flew straight up and then towards the tavern¡¯s door, dodging a mouth extending from the ceiling that attempted to eat him.


    Thinking quickly, Oak hitched a ride on a table that was drifting through the air above the poltergeist, and prepared for a fight. Heart pounding, he made sure that Kaarina¡¯s Horror was ready and waited for his moment.


    In Oak¡¯s experience, battles inside the Dream resembled knife fights in the dark. The person who did not make noise or reveal their position usually got off the first strike, but in the end, everybody got stabbed.


    The poltergeist facing Oak held no resemblance to the sickly thing he had ripped apart near Spoke. It was much larger and shaped like a giant worm. Elven and human heads bulged from its purple body, their faces twisted in utter madness and rage. The worm had a head with a large mouth surrounded by three sets of fangs curving towards the maw. The thing bit at the floorboards in fury, trashing the spot Oak had been in a heartbeat ago, agitated by his disappearance.


    The table drifted along in the Dream¡¯s current and Oak found himself right above the worm¡¯s head. He shed himself from the form of the sparrow and dropped on top of the worm. Kaarina¡¯s Horror punctured the poltergeist¡¯s skin and penetrated deep into its body, only stopping when the stinger hit the rotten floorboards.


    The poltergeist trashed around in fury. A long spike of bone burst from the worm¡¯s back and struck Oak in the chest. He nearly fell from the worm''s back, mind reeling from the aftershocks of a section of his wards reaching their breaking point. He had three human ghosts devoted to his wards, and one of them almost buckled under the strain of the poltergeists'' attack.


    The worm attempted to bring its mouth and fangs into play, but Oak sunk his stinger into the poltergeist¡¯s head, over and over again, all the while dodging spikes that burst from the worm¡¯s body to skewer him. Memories of despair and horrific violence leaked from the worm''s wounds, spilling into the Dream.


    Finally, frustrated with his lack of progress, Oak sank Kaarina¡¯s Horror deep, and started walking backwards, pulling with all of his will. The stinger''s edge parted flesh, and he sawed, intending to cut the worm in half lengthwise. By the time he had gotten halfway down the creature¡¯s body, it had stopped trashing and lay there unmoving on the tavern''s floor.


    Oak let out a shaky breath and stared at the monster. Mouths opened from the floor and the tavern feasted on the ghostly corpse of the dead poltergeist.


    I guess I deserved that for diving into the Dream so I could strike at Gluk. Cause and effect. I made noise and something noticed. I really do have to avoid doing this.


    Suddenly, a passing tentacle tore apart the ceiling of the tavern. The slippery flesh of the tentacle brushed Oak¡¯s dream form and in a single instant, two of the ghosts holding his wards together shattered. He could feel the echoes of the painful memories the tentacle was made of as he spun through the air and landed on the floor.


    Elves being torn apart limb from limb, screaming in agony. Claws like knives sinking into soft flesh.


    Wails of pain tried to escape from Oak¡¯s lips, but he held the hurt tight, and pushed it down. In the Unreal Sea, drawing attention to yourself was a deadly thing. Especially right now. The tentacle snatched the worm¡¯s body and lifted it out of the tavern.


    Dazed and confused, Oak followed it with his gaze. Above the tavern, a gigantic sea monster drifted in the air, swimming in the sky between floating houses. It was easily the size of a five-story apartment building and though Oak had never seen a whale; he imagined they might have looked a bit like the creature swimming in the currents of the Dream above him. If whales had tentacles all over their body and teeth that looked like swords, that is.


    A leviathan, Oak thought tiredly. He stayed absolutely still, wrapping the remainders of his wards tight around his mind and minimizing his presence.


    There was a reason towns and cities had wards and he was staring one of them in the face right now. The tentacle brought the remains of the poltergeist in front of the leviathan''s face. Massive jaws opened wide and the leviathan swallowed the worm. The ghostly horror never stopped moving even as it ate and soon it had drifted out of view.


    The tavern''s ceiling was knitting itself together, but before it could fully close up, Oak could see another leviathan drifting through the sky far on the other side of the city. Yeah. Fuck all that, he thought and left the Dream.


    It was a relief to sink back to his own body.

 Chapter 11

    Oak¡¯s relief was short-lived.


    He spent a couple of minutes gathering himself on the floor of the tavern and letting the aftershocks of the hits he took to his wards settle. He was just about to get moving again when there was a noise on the square outside. A buzzing of wings. The sound waves carried the truth of the matter to him, and the Ears of Amdusias painted a picture to his mind.


    Three giant centipedes, just like the ones he had run into before, had just landed on the square. Two of them were skittering towards the ruined front of the tavern.


    ¡°Oh, for the love of Ashmedai, can¡¯t I get a fucking break here?¡± Oak whispered and tried to haul himself up by grabbing a nearby chair. One of the chair¡¯s legs snapped, and he fell back down, slamming his face against the floor.


    Two of the three centipedes heard the noise and took flight, wings buzzing and mandibles clicking excitedly as Oak groaned and got himself to a sitting position. He leaned back against a fallen table and gasped for breath. The cleaver shook in his hand and no matter how he put his fingers, he could not seem to get a good grip on the handle. He was bone-tired.


    ¡°Demon of Wrath, grant me strength,¡± Oak prayed, even though he knew it to be a fruitless endeavor. He was beyond Ashmedai¡¯s aid.


    The first giant centipede flew through the ruined doorway and took a beeline straight for Oak¡¯s face.


    No plans now, just violence.


    He raised his left arm to guard his face. The impact sent him, the table, and the centipede chewing on his arm, sliding backwards for a couple of feet.


    Oak lifted his cleaver and struck down. His edge-alignment was off-kilter, and the cleaver bounced from the centipede''s carapace. The mandibles cut him to the bone and the little spiky legs of the disgusting insect were raking his chest and stomach, leaving bleeding furrows in their wake. His second try bounced as well, but on the third hit he struck between the plates of chitin and the cleaver sank deep.


    The centipede screeched in pain and writhed on top of him as Oak let go of the cleaver''s handle and started pummeling on the blades back with his right hand to sink it deeper into the centipede''s head. He did not dare pull the cleaver free to strike again, since his hands felt so weak he might drop it.


    When the second centipede slammed on top of the first one and started climbing it to get its mandibles around Oak¡¯s neck, despair truly hit him. His left arm was clamped inside the maw of the now mostly dead centipede and he could not get it out. His right arm flopped uselessly as he tried to punch the second insect, but the monster ignored him and let out a pleased hiss as its many eyes looked at the delicious meal in front of it.


    Hells.


    Oak tried one last time to lift his right arm, but the limb refused to move. His attempt to shoot flames at the centipede¡¯s face resulted in a single spark. He sighed and closed his eyes.


    I am so sorry, Geezer. You were the best.


    Crunch.


    His eyes snapped open. Powerful jaws clamped on the head of the centipede about to eat Oak¡¯s face and lifted the monster into the air. Geezer had come for him. The hellhound¡¯s teeth cracked the chitin holding the insect together, and he shook the monster hard, slamming it against the ground and breaking it apart. The insects'' disgusting innards covered the floorboards.


    Correction. Geezer, you are the best.


    The last centipede skittered cautiously into the tavern and took in the scene before it. Geezer walked past Oak and settled between him and the centipede. Even though the hellhound shook in fear like a leaf in the wind, Geezer stood there all the same and bared his teeth in a snarl, hackles raised.


    It was over quickly. The centipede launched forward, wings buzzing and hissing up a storm. Geezer snatched it out of the air, and after a brief struggle, ripped it to shreds.


    Oak pulled his left arm free from the dead centipede''s maw and he feebly tried to push the monster''s corpse off of himself. In the end, Geezer had to help him do it. When the hellhound sat down next to him and started licking his face, Oak felt tears flowing down his cheeks.


    ¡°Good boy,¡± he said and buried his face in Geezer¡¯s coarse fur. ¡°The very best.¡± And right there, lying against his best friend in the entire world, Oak finally let sleep take him away.


    ***


    If Oak dreamed during his sleep, he did not remember it when he woke up. He did not know how much time had passed, but it must have been a while since he was extremely thirsty and desperately needed to pee. Geezer was lying next to him on the floor and raised his head when he noticed that Oak had woken up.


    ¡°I would hug you if I could,¡± Oak said to the hellhound and smiled. ¡°Thank you for saving my ass.¡±


    Geezer let out a pleased huff and gave his nose a lick. ¡°Yeah, I love you too buddy,¡± Oak said and started the laborious and painful process of getting up, so he could take a piss. These were the only trousers he had, and he was not going to piss himself while wearing them. He would also need to retrieve the backpack he had made, which held all of their water supplies.


    Oak moved slowly, like an old man with bad joints, as he stumbled onto the porch of the tavern and pissed on the street.


    If this was what victory felt like, he could do without.


    After relieving himself, Oak went to retrieve his improvised backpack, and Geezer came with him. He tried to move with care so he would not accidentally open wounds that had already clotted and achieved mixed results. Trickles of blood ran over already dried patches of red, adding to the stains on his clothes. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    He was not too worried. He had lost a bunch of blood already and he was still kicking, so could a bit more be so dangerous, anyway?


    With a bit of encouragement, Geezer pulled the backpack out from under the stall where Oak had stashed it and carried it back to the tavern. Oak followed with the speed and grace of a crippled toddler. He decided that bending down to pick up his sword and shield from the market square could wait until tomorrow.


    Once they were both back inside, he opened the backpack and drank a wine bottle full of water before hunting down a bowl and letting Geezer drink as well. As Geezer drank, Oak stared at the stairs leading up to the second floor of the tavern and thought about beds.


    There might be some upstairs, but the bedding has surely rotted away by now. Right?


    In the end, he was just too tired to find out and went to sleep behind the tavern''s counter, under Geezer''s watchful gaze.


    ***


    As Oak¡¯s third day in Ma''aseh Merkavah dawned, hunger was beginning to really show its face and his ribs were absolutely killing him. Even though some of his wounds looked a lot better already, thanks to the Branch of Buer and the Boon of Demonic constitution, he was still too badly hurt to go exploring.


    A terrible weakness had taken hold of him, and the mere thought of standing up sickened him. Hunger pangs ravaged his empty stomach, and he was prone to spells of dizziness.


    This meant that he had to just bear it for now, and rest.


    Geezer had found Gluk¡¯s corpse yesterday and decided that the ogre was on the menu. At least one of us is not going hungry, Oak thought. He had a lot of time on his hands as he waited for his body to heal and recover, so he took a look at his soul. The soul itself was the same bright, opaque ball of solid flame. The spiral of black metal surrounded by ever turning gears that was now inside the center of his being had gained a new soul to fuel his powers.


    Gluk¡¯s soul was making the same journey as the souls of the centipedes he had killed, flowing through the spiral to the furnace at the top and back down again. By just looking at it, Oak could tell Ashmedai had been correct. The worth of the ogre¡¯s soul, in terms of fuel, equaled all the souls of the centipedes he had killed thus far combined. He still checked the interface to make sure.


    Status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Infernal engine


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Souls: 32</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Fuel: 6</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Attunement in progress</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    With the addition of Gluk¡¯s soul, the fuel count had doubled. The sight made Oak feel slightly better about his many injuries. No wonder the ogre had been a tough nut to crack.


    The cycling of the fuel in his infernal engine was kind of nice to look at, but sadly, it would not do him much good at the moment. He had probably not collected enough souls to fuel any new boons yet and even if he had managed that, he would need Ashmedai to grant those new powers to him. That would only happen after he found another grove or got out of Ma''aseh Merkavah.


    Adding another boon to the Branch of Buer would really make my day right about now, Oak thought and smiled even though the circumstances were less than ideal.


    On top of his injuries and the ever present hunger, another issue was raising its ugly head. Oak was disgustingly dirty, and he smelled like an open sewer, which he found highly uncomfortable. Back home, he would wash himself every other day with water from a nearby stream. Now he had blood and centipede guts in his beard and no water to spare for hygiene.


    The fact he was a Warlock was most likely the only reason he was not currently dying from a multitude of infections.


    Funny how much a man can long for soap when none is available. Seems to be a common trend on this little mission. I will surely appreciate small luxuries like warm food and clean clothes a lot more if I survive this deathtrap.


    Oak giggled at the thought of himself hugging a piece of freshly baked bread and let out a moan of pain when the giggling disturbed his cracked ribs.


    There is a certain nostalgia to this, though. Reminds me of some of the raids that went badly during the war. Running scared, bloodied, and hungry in the woods with the lads. By the Chariot, I was a mad bastard back then.


    Geezer jumped up from the pit, licking his chops and padded next to Oak, tail wagging.


    ¡°Enjoyed your meal, huh?¡± Oak asked and scratched the hellhounds'' sides.


    He could spot no large changes yet, but if they survived and kept killing, Geezer would grow and change. All the scrapes and bruises the hellhound had sustained fighting the centipedes had healed in record time, and the last of them had vanished after the dog had eaten his fill from Gluk¡¯s corpse for the first time. That did not happen to regular dogs.


    It wasn¡¯t only Warlock¡¯s that kept what they killed. If all the stories Oak had heard were true, hellhounds grew in power as they aged, and they gained a measure of lasting strength from the flesh of the recently departed. The effect was supposed to be stronger if they themselves made the kill.


    The dog sat down and panted happily as Oak continued to pet him. They spent the day away lying next to each other and recovering from yesterday¡¯s ordeal. Oak tried to keep the constant thoughts of hunger and pain at the back of his mind by spoiling Geezer with scratches as much as he could in his current condition.


    For the first time since the ritual had transported him and Geezer into Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, Oak had nothing better to do than think. His thoughts turned back to the North. To Spoke, and Jarl Shaw¡¯s attack upon the town. He had been so occupied with survival that the fate of his neighbors had not entered his mind.


    It¡¯s not like I had any close friends living there, but sacking the place was a rotten thing to do. I hope Shaw chokes on his ambition.


    Above all, Oak hoped that Soot had somehow made it out alive. She was a killer to the core, and she had always treated him fairly. Not a kindred spirit, but worthy of respect all the same. He would not mind seeing her again one day.


    He also spent some time planning for the future.


    In a day or two, they would have to move and start traversing through the city, no matter how dangerous it would be. Recovering from injuries took energy, energy he was not replacing since he had nothing to eat. Unless you counted the ogre or the centipedes, but Oak was not brave or hungry enough to try either option just yet. He knew a man could survive for weeks without food, and he was willing to take his chances for now.


    If things did not improve quickly in the food department, he would have to reconsider.


    Going without for weeks would leave him too weak to fight. If things went wrong again, he might die. He would need to keep his eyes peeled for any buildings that could reasonably be expected to store foodstuffs that would have kept all this time under preservation runes. A barracks of some kind might be his best bet, since armies always needed non-perishable goods and he did not think hardtack could even go bad unless it got wet.


    Oak complained about the food during the war often enough that he was pretty sure his younger self would have burst out in laughter if someone had told him he would one day be desperately hunting for hardtack, but needs must.

 Chapter 12

    It was hard to estimate the passage of time inside Ma''aseh Merkavah.


    Oak had slept twice, so he figured two more days must have passed. Three days of rest had fixed most of his injuries, even though his ribs still felt tender. He had a lot of fresh scars all over the place, and the hunger pangs had vanished.


    That was not necessarily a good thing. It meant that instead of consuming food, his body was currently consuming itself. Time was his greatest enemy now. Oak donned his ruined jacket, since he did not have a replacement, put on his backpack and headed outside.


    He had strapped the shield he had lost in the fight with Gluk to his left hand, and his sword was back in its sheath. Oak had gone out for a bit yesterday in order to pick them both up from the square. It felt better to be properly armed once more.


    Geezer followed him as he made his way back to the park where Gluk had spotted them and settled behind the familiar fence, staring over the large road they had to cross to continue their journey west. The last time Oak and Geezer had been here, a Leshen had been walking down the road. Oak was not keen on meeting one, so he listened with extreme care for any noise at all that might warn him of anything walking down the road towards them.


    No sound reached Oak¡¯s ears. His magically enhanced hearing showed that the coast was clear and Geezer seemed relaxed. Nothing for it. We have to cross at some point, anyway. Might as well do it now, Oak thought and walked across with his ears peeled and head on a swivel. He wanted to at least have a fighting chance if some nightmarish creature tried to kill him.


    They made it across the road without issues and headed down another alleyway. The alleys of Ma''aseh Merkavah were narrow. The only reason there even was enough room to comfortably walk down this alleyway was the jettying. Many buildings had second, third and subsequent stories that protruded beyond the foundations and the floor-space of the ground-floor.


    This meant there was more room between buildings at the ground level and the extra space over people¡¯s heads was still in use. Oak had always liked the look of such construction. He had envisioned that if he ever built a second floor to his home, he would use the same technique to give it the look he wanted and gain some extra floor space.


    Thinking about home wasn¡¯t terribly pleasant for Oak. There was a good chance Jarl Shaw¡¯s carls and peasant levies had burned the place down if they had bothered to send any patrols that way before moving towards Jarl Cadoc¡¯s lands.


    It felt strange to have nowhere to return to.


    Even when the old man had died and Oak had gone to war, the homestead had always been there, waiting for him. Now war had come to his home. If he ever made it back to the North, instead of a house and an overgrown potato patch, he would find ashes instead. It was not an encouraging thought.


    Let''s hope the chickens had enough wits about them to escape to the woods. The things are as dumb as rocks, so the chance of them doing anything sensible is pretty slim, but you never know. Now, I need to get my head together and start paying attention to my surroundings before some relative of Gluk¡¯s comes for revenge.


    Oak hoped Gluk did not have a giant family full of uncles, aunts and distant cousins ready to hunt him down, but considering his own luck had been very poor of late, he was giving the possibility some consideration.


    At least Geezer would not go hungry. And who knows, maybe if I get hungry enough, eating an ogre won¡¯t seem like such a bad idea.


    A crunching sound up ahead cut Oak¡¯s musings short. Both he and Geezer froze. After making sure the sound was not moving towards them, Oak continued forward for a bit. He wanted to get a look at whatever it was with his new and improved ears before they skirted around it.


    They crept closer with careful steps, sneaking down the alley and through one small intersection before they got close enough that Oak could make out some details through the waves of sound. He signaled for Geezer to stop, got on one knee and listened. At first, the images the sounds provided made no sense to him, but after a brief time of focusing, he had to admit to himself he was not misunderstanding the signals he was getting.


    According to the Ears of Amdusias, there was a larger intersection of alleyways up ahead, which formed a small square in front of a church. In that square was a wolf-chimera the size of a small house. It had one gigantic wolf''s head at the end of its neck where you would expect a normal wolf to have a head as well. Unlike a regular wolf, the chimera also had two thick tentacles extending from its shoulders, which had smaller wolf heads at the ends of them. Its tail also ended with a wolf''s head.


    The crunching sound which had warned Oak of the monster''s presence resulted from the chimera ripping large chunks of flesh from a dead, horse sized spider and eating them.


    I might be slowly getting used to this crazy place, because ?this does not surprise me. Of course, there are chimeras and horse sized spiders. Why wouldn''t there be?


    He wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of that, so he and Geezer backed up, and took the long way around the many headed killing machine and its prey.


    ***


    There was a certain sense of character to the neighborhood Oak and Geezer were walking through. The alleys and roads had lines covered in little faded flags and banners crossing over them, and every building seemed to have some type of colorful sign in elvish or old common which told you who had lived there over three hundred years ago.


    Most of the buildings were made of wood and the former inhabitants had decorated the front doors with carvings of different animals. There were no poles for street lights, but little lanterns were bolted on the sides of the buildings to provide light to weary travelers of the night. Sadly, Oak had not come across a single lantern that still burned in this section of the city.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    If the houses had been filled with people living their lives and as you walked down the streets and alleyways, you could have heard all the little noises of life that escape from the confines of a house or an apartment, the neighborhood would have been very cozy. Now it just felt wrong to be there.


    Like everyone has just left for an errand and you have come to their home and heart uninvited.


    There was a lightness to Oak¡¯s steps that had not been there before. His body felt strange and the constant hunger was not the main culprit this time. Four days had gone by since Ashmedai had made him into a Warlock, and the physical benefits were slowly beginning to manifest.


    He felt a tiny bit stronger than before, which was miraculous considering the lack of food and the injuries he was still suffering from. According to Ashmedai, this meant he was also slightly faster and tougher to hurt than he used to be.


    Not that he was going to put that to the test and start cutting himself.


    I bet something with too many mouths and limbs is going to do the testing for me soon. Oak winced. Fate, please do not take that as a request.


    Oak and Geezer arrived at yet another intersection, and Oak realized he was quite lost and didn¡¯t know which direction they should take. He considered the problem and decided that it would be simplest to just go inside one of the nearby apartment buildings and head to the roof.


    If he could see the obelisk Ashmedai had told him to use as a landmark, he would know the direction he and Geezer should head in. Breaking down a door and making a racket in the process seemed like a bad idea, so Oak started trying doors.


    The third door he tried swung open silently, which he felt was a bit bullshit. No hinges he had ever seen would do that after three hundred years of neglect, but this was the Old Empire. It seemed even hinges had been better in the good old days.


    Oak stepped inside the building with Geezer on his heels. If man-eating horrors didn¡¯t fill every shadowy corner of the city, he would have just kicked down the nearest door. Breaking doors down was a lot of fun, in Oak¡¯s opinion. Much more fun than building or repairing them, as it was with most things.


    It was very dark, but Oak had his echolocation, as Ashmedai had called it, and the layout was not complicated. The building had a hallway with doors that led into apartments, and a set of stairs leading to the second floor. He headed straight up the stairs and kept walking upwards until he reached the fourth and final floor.


    There was no attic hatch in the hallway, so he kicked in one of the apartment doors and went to the balcony to have a look. The other buildings around him were also four stories tall and he could not see over them, so grabbed the edge of the roof and climbed up.


    No matter how you looked at it, despite the fact that the city was a madhouse of terrors, Ma''aseh Merkavah was a spectacular sight. The sheer scale of it alone impressed Oak, and the architecture was nothing to scoff at either. As his gaze wandered across the city, a detail jumped out to him.


    There were a lot of churches and comparatively fewer temples. It made sense. When the first foundation had been laid down in what would later become Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, God had still been alive. The city was a mosaic of the past, and the elves had always been slow to change.


    Cathedrals and churches had been built here for untold centuries before God ripped out her own heart. After the wars and strife that followed, some people had found others to worship. There were pretty clear signs that someone had converted churches into temples for different angelic choirs and demons.


    I wonder how many had to die to make that happen, Oak wondered. What tales could the rocks tell me, if they could speak?


    Finally, Oak focused on the matter at hand. He found the obelisk easily enough when he searched for it in the distance and cursed. They had drifted a bit off course and would have to take a left turn and start heading towards the massive ziggurat at the heart of the city if they wanted to get back on track.


    As Oak crawled backwards towards the edge of the roof, so he could climb down to the balcony, his foot snagged on a loose roof tile, and sent it flying over the edge. He froze and stared in horror as the tile tumbled through the air, smashing down on the street and shattering into a thousand little pieces with a bang that echoed across the district.


    Oak cursed his luck, hopped down to the balcony and ran down the stairs with Geezer in toe. They were out of the apartment building in record time.


    ¡°Come on Geezer, we need to put some distance between us and this place and we need to do it fast,¡± Oak said. After those words, he saved his breath for running.


    They rushed through alleys and down streets for a time. Oak kept his ears peeled and strained his hearing to catch even the slightest hint of anything moving to attack them, but for a good while, only the steady beat of his legs and Geezer''s paws filled his ears.


    In the end, his vigilance saved their lives.


    The scraping of claws on tiles above him alerted Oak to dark shapes diving from the rooftops towards him and Geezer.


    ¡°Up!¡± he shouted, and Geezer got the message, straining his neck to look upwards, and seeing the pale, humanoid forms falling towards them.


    Oak dodged to the right and when a monster landed right where he had been standing a second ago, he cut its head off with a swing of his sword.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 1 Soul


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Not worth even a unit of fuel? Figures.


    Geezer jumped to meet one of the falling creatures and snapped his jaws around its neck. Snarling and hissing, the pair hit the street and rolled around like a veritable ball of violence. Geezer ended up on top and bit through the struggling monster''s spine. It convulsed and lay still.


    More monsters were jumping down from rooftops or climbing down the walls of the buildings on either side of the street to get at them, drool dripping from between their fangs. Oak had no time to watch Geezer. The hellhound would have to manage on his own.


    As the monsters landed ahead and behind them, he got a good look at the creatures. Ghouls. They were fairly tall and wiry, famished looking things with long fangs and sharp claws. Ribs shone through their pale, gray skin. Their faces looked like a twisted mockery of humanity, with small, almost completely flat noses and gaping lipless maws filled with razor-sharp teeth and a long, thin tongue.


    The ghouls encircled Oak and Geezer as more and more of the things kept dropping on the street. Large black eyes stared at them from all directions, and slimy drool dripped onto the cobblestones from hungry maws, as the monsters rushed forth to sink their teeth into the flesh of their chosen prey.

 Chapter 13

    It was raining ghouls and Oak was less than pleased.


    If in five seconds we are still in this street, we are dead, he thought and grit his teeth.


    He cast two jets of flames, first towards the ghouls in front of him and Geezer and the second towards the ghouls approaching from behind. Both groups of monsters recoiled from the heat and bright light, screeching in fear.


    Oak took advantage of the small window of time afforded to him and started running towards the door of some two story manor on his right. He hoped there was a window or a door on the other side he and Geezer could slip through and maybe get some distance between themselves and the pack hunting them.


    Worse comes to worst, they all have to come through a small doorway to get at us and I might be able to make that work.


    A ghoul landed in front of him, jaws open wide and ready to taste his flesh. Oak raised his shield and ran right at the ghoul. The monster was a tall and wiry killing machine moving with liquid grace, but he had weight and strength on his side. He bashed the ghouls'' teeth in with his shield and used its body as a battering ram as he ran through the door of the manor right behind it, carrying the thing with him until they hit a wall inside the house.


    The ghoul was still attempting to spit out its splintered teeth when Oak lit its head on fire and ran his sword through its stomach. He threw the screaming thing over Geezer''s running form and out of the manor. The ghoul bounced on the cobblestones and then lay motionless on the street. Some of its fellows chose the promise of easy meat, and dined on the poor thing, while the rest rushed after Oak and Geezer.


    The ten feet long pillar of fire Oak used to bathe the entire doorway, and fry the first group of ghouls running through it put a damper on the monster''s enthusiasm, but they still kept coming, jumping over the smoldering corpses of their kin. What remained of the carpet in the entrance hall took fire and the stench of smoke and burned meat mingled together.


    Deciding to hold the doorway for a moment to thin the ghouls'' numbers was easier than actually doing it. Oak dodged a swipe from a pale, clawed hand and then cut it off at the elbow. The ghoul tried to jump at his neck, so he split its skull with his blade and kicked the corpse at another ghoul''s legs. The monster tripped and Oak stabbed through its neck, severing the spine.


    Not enough to kill the bloody thing, but it will keep it down for a long while. Hopefully, the nest is not nearby or I will be at this until my beard turns gray.


    He kicked the burning remains of the carpet at the dead ghouls piling in the doorway and threw a nearby chair and some type of wooden clothing rack on top of the pile. Building a pyre out of the corpses of these bastards was appealing to him on an emotional level.


    Oak spared a glance at Geezer. The hellhound was hiding behind him, eyes locked on the doorway and the ghouls prowling on the street. After the sudden bout of bravery outside, the young dog had reverted to his cowardly self.


    ¡°Hang in there buddy, we will get through this!¡± Oak shouted. He wished he had the time to hold Geezer in his lap and give the dog''s ears a thorough scratching.


    More ghouls tried to squeeze through the doorway, getting in each other''s way as they hissed and spit in a mad rage. Oak went to work with his sword and shield, hacking through pale flesh and even paler bone, dousing the burning pile of corpses at his feet with blood and offal. With every swing of his sword, the pile grew higher.


    Another abrupt break in the action presented itself and Oak stood there on the stone floor of the entrance hall, breathing deep and easy breaths, covered in blood and things better left unmentioned. Things could be worse, he thought with a smile on his face.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 8 Souls


    + 1 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    As he focused on his hearing, he found his thoughts were almost prophetic in nature. There was so much noise piercing the air that he got a fairly accurate image of the street outside and the ghouls prowling in front of the manor. A group of ten ghouls were currently climbing the walls of the manor, and they were about to break through the windows on the second floor.


    ¡°Sneaky little shits,¡± Oak said and started throwing anything and everything flammable onto the pile of dead ghouls obstructing the doorway, before setting the pile on fire again with a concentrated flow of flame.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Clothing racks and stands were an excellent addition to his pyre. The dry wood burned merrily, crackling and sparking as the flames rose ever higher. So high, in fact, that the doorframe caught on fire too, which wasn¡¯t too bad, unless there was no other way out.


    I Better go and find that other way out right away. Or make it, if none exists.


    Oak felt the strain of casting so many spells in such a short time frame. There was a slight chill in his flesh, and someone kept driving a spike of pain in the middle of his forehead.


    The sound of breaking glass above him signaled it really was high time to get out of the building.


    Geezer led the way as they rushed through a living room, a dining hall, and finally, a large kitchen. There, Oak found a servant''s entrance to a small backyard, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, which bordered a back alley passing behind the house.


    They jumped the fence, turned left and started running. The back wall of a house up ahead on Oak¡¯s right had partially collapsed, and he angled towards it. He intended to cut through the house to get some buildings between them and the ghouls.


    As Oak climbed over the rubble made of stone, mortar, and broken pieces of furniture, he suddenly felt a tingle climb up his spine. He and Geezer had crossed a boundary when they stepped inside the house and Oak could feel something pulsing in the Waking Dream. Before he could stop himself, he lifted his gaze from the rubble and saw a stone slab covered in runes and filled with ghosts leaning against a wall.


    A resonance formed between Oak, and the loci of ghosts. He saw the loci just as the loci perceived him. Symmetry was a dangerous thing and a small, tightly woven string of memories slipped past his wards and began to spread. Oak stumbled but continued running, desperation fueling him as the thought-plague started its work.


    Geezer guided Oak through the partially collapsed house as he stumbled around like a drunk, thoughts colliding and spinning out of control. He could hear ghouls somewhere on the street behind them as he walked forward, right shoulder leaning onto the wall of the hallway for support.


    I need to hide somewhere and work this out, Kushim thought. Work out what, wait where am I? Why am I covered in blood?


    ¡°Oh no, oh no, did I kill someone, oh please no, why do I have a sword in my hand, I am a scribe not a warrior, and where did you come from,¡± Kushim asked, and looked at a dog who he somehow knew was named Geezer.


    Something was deeply wrong with his body. He was much taller than he should be and the dysphoria stemming from being alienated from his own flesh made him throw up on the floorboards.


    I¡­I need to go home. If I go home, I¡¯m sure things-


    Oak convulsed and violently rocked his head. The foreign memories had taken over for a second. If Geezer had been a human or an elf, the thought-plague could very well have spread from him to Geezer when they crossed eyes, but luckily Geezer was a dog with very different thought patterns and memory formations than a human being.


    A ghoul came around the corner behind them and collided with the wall in its haste to taste flesh. Geezer barked a warning, and the ghoul jumped on Oak¡¯s back. He dropped his shield and grabbed the ravenous beast with his left hand before it could sink its fangs into his neck.


    Oak¡¯s frustration boiled over. He rammed the shrieking monster against the wall three times with bone breaking force before he stabbed his sword through the ghoul''s chest.


    Oh, for the love of-


    ¡°Aaah!¡± Kushim screamed as he stared at the pale, black-eyed monster in his grip, and dropped the disgusting creature. The ghoul wailed weakly as the blade slid out of its chest and tried to reach for him with its claws.


    I have gone mad. Me, Kushim, fighting monsters! I must call the guards and seek a house of healing-


    Oak slapped himself hard. The memories receded, and he was once again his own master. He stomped on the ghoul''s head, splattering brains and skull fragments all over the floorboards. Good riddance.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 1 Soul


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    By the Chariot, this is annoying.


    The sound of claws scraping on roof tiles reached him, and the Ears of Amdusias painted a picture to his mind. A group of ghouls climbing over the manor he and Geezer had just left, some already dropping into the backyard. More would surely follow.


    Eyes peeled, Oak continued to walk down the hallway, desperately searching for a place to hide so he could deal with the thought-plague. I don¡¯t like my odds if I have to fight these fucking things with the memories of some scribe bouncing around in my head. The hallway ended, and the space opened into a small entrance hall with a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling.


    There, on the floor under some type of faded carpet, Oak spotted their salvation. The edge of a small cellar hatch, barely visible in the darkness. He stepped to it and grabbed hold of a large iron ring handle embedded into the wood. The wood creaked, and the hinges screeched their protests as he heaved the hatch open. A set of narrow stairs descended into the darkness. Oak pumped his fist in the air in triumph.


    Some good luck, for once.


    The hatch closed with a thump and left Oak and Geezer in total darkness. He summoned a small flame to light their way, and he and Geezer walked down the stairs to a small storage cellar filled with crates and boxes.


    Oak sat down on a crate, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. It was time to dive into his own mind and deal with mister Kushim¡¯s memories. As claws scratched the thick hatch hiding him and Geezer from the ghouls, Oak let himself fall towards the center of his own consciousness.

 Chapter 14

    The inside of Oak¡¯s mind was a dream of his own making.


    Spook¡¯s called these centers of memory and consciousness sanctuaries. He had tailored it after his homestead, with one major difference. In the place of the chicken coop, stood a large oak tree. Corpses of humans and animals hung from the branches and they swung around in the breeze.


    The tree groaned in time with the swinging of its many prizes, and the leaves rustled softly.


    Oak looked up at the false sky and froze. He had been inside Ma''aseh Merkavah for so many days already that looking at the sun was a strange experience. It felt like he could finally relax his shoulders, even though he knew the sun shining in his sanctuary was not real.


    The wards guarding Oak¡¯s mind overlapped with the false sky, manifesting fully when he called them forth. They were connected to one of the corpses hanging from the tree. His close encounter with the leviathan had destroyed the two other ghosts powering his wards. Other than that, his wards were operating just fine.


    This did not surprise him. The hits he had been taking lately were not at fault for his current troubles. There was a reason the thought-plague had managed to slip inside his mind and it was related to the art of designing and constructing wards themselves.


    It was exceedingly difficult, even borderline impossible, to construct a warding scheme for a human mind that could work just as effectively against trauma based attacks designed to rip your wards open and purge the mind inside, and very subtle attacks trying to slip memory constructs that did not directly harm you through those same wards.


    Oak, like most theurgists he knew about, had optimized his wards with trauma based attacks in mind because if something cracked them and purged his mind, that was it. If, on the other hand, something like a thought-plague slipped inside his wards, he could deal with the issue if he was given a bit of time. He had prioritized survival, even though thought-plagues and memory traps were extremely annoying and sometimes difficult to deal with.


    Thought-plagues were the bane of every army''s existence and one of the many reasons a good spook was always in high demand. They could spread through the ranks like wildfire if they were not contained quickly, and pruning the plague from the affected warriors'' minds could be a time-consuming affair.


    Looking at his homestead made Oak nostalgic, but he gathered himself and got to work. The ghouls trying to claw their way through the cellar hatch were probably hard at work already, so he should not dally.


    The ghouls certainly won¡¯t.


    He focused and examined his homestead with a discerning eye, trying to find any signs of Kushim¡¯s memories. Something moved in the corner of his eye, and Oak snapped his gaze towards it, eager to seize a piece of the plague.


    There was a very tall and well-built man leaning against the oak tree. He was wearing an apron and his hands were dripping with blood. The sound of a knife being sharpened rang in Oak¡¯s sanctuary as the man moved a blade against a whetstone in calm, deliberate movements.


    Shink, shink.


    Oak flinched and looked away. He is not real; he is not real, he thought and started frantically looking for Kushim¡¯s memories around the facsimile of the shed where he dried his firewood, firmly ignoring the figure leaning against the tree.


    Not real. I am the master of my own mind. The captain of my thoughts.


    He noticed a pair of sandals hanging from a nail on the wall. I don¡¯t think I have ever owned a single pair of sandals, Oak thought and snatched them from the wall. A short examination followed, which showed his intuition had been correct. This was a part of the string of memories that made up the thought-plague currently hiding inside his mind.


    The log cabin of his birth was on the other side of the yard, and Oak headed there next. He tried his best to be systematic about his investigation, examining every sequence of memory that made up his sanctuary.


    Pruning a thought-plague from someone''s mind was not usually dangerous, it was just time consuming. Here he had the advantage of pruning the plague from his own mind, so he was already intimately familiar with the sanctuary the plague was infecting, and he had built and designed the sanctuary with purpose in mind so it was not an unorganized mess of nonsense, which tended to be the case for people with no skill in the art of theurgy.


    Finding nothing noteworthy on the ground outside his home, Oak headed inside the cabin. There, he immediately noticed a brown robe hanging from a clothes rack on the wall next to the door. Another piece of the puzzle. He picked it up and continued searching. After ten minutes of effort he finally found an inkwell on top of a shelf that did not belong in his sanctuary and with this clue in mind, he quickly found two quills, a reed pen and a scroll of vellum inside a scribes satchel.


    The writing implements were hiding inside his tool cupboard and the satchel was behind his shrine to Ashmedai.


    Oak gathered all the memory strings he found together and headed back outside. There, under the false sky of his sanctuary, he connected all the strings he had found to each other one at a time. The shape of a man slowly spun into being, and in no time at all, Kushim stood in front of him.


    The man had black hair, a narrow nose and a tiny chin. He was dressed in the brown robe and the pair of sandals Oak had found. The satchel and the many pockets of Kushim¡¯s robes hid away his writing equipment. Some of the man''s pockets even had pockets of their own, which Oak found strange, but who was he to judge another man¡¯s pockets?


    A man can have a lot of faults, and having peculiar pockets compares favorably to most of them.


    With the snap of Oak¡¯s finger, a hangman''s rope extended from a branch of the large oak tree in the middle of the yard and settled around the thought-plagues neck. Kushim looked at it with confusion evident in his eyes.


    ¡°Oh dear, what is this? Where am I? I really must get home immediately,¡± Kushim said, before Oak willed the rope to drag him to the tree and up in the air.


    The memory construct went dormant and swung in the breeze with the rest of his constructs and ghosts. Oak could have destroyed it, but having a thought-plague in his arsenal did not seem like a bad idea. Kushim¡¯s Bewilderment might just save his life one day. If the scribe who was a string could slip through his wards and be as disorienting as it had been, keeping the template could prove very useful.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    With careful study, he might be able to create other strings just like it from spare ghosts, if he ever had any spare ghosts, that is. It would be nice to have some thought-plagues ready for deployment.


    Now that the slippery string of memories was under control and safely in storage, Oak was ready to leave his sanctuary behind. He gave one last look at the tree. There was no sign of the man with bloody hands. The yard did not ring in the laughter that followed in his wake.


    I am free of him.


    The thought felt more like a prayer than a truth, and Oak¡¯s faith hung by a thread over an endless chasm. Conviction alone felt like a hollow shield, so he turned to action. It was time to leave the basement and show the ghouls outside the cellar what was what.


    ***


    The cellar hatch slammed open, sending two ghouls flying. Oak ran up the stairs, sword in hand, and decapitated a surprised-looking ghoul standing next to the hatch, black eyes wide and mouth open.


    The ghoul''s head had not even hit the floor when something slammed into his back and he stumbled as long fangs sank into his right shoulder. Cursing up a storm, Oak jumped backwards and slammed himself and the ghoul on his back against the stonewall of the house. Something cracked, and the ghoul let out a wail of pain.


    He reached over his shoulder with his left hand and grabbed a hold of the monster''s neck. With furious strength, Oak ripped the ghoul off of his back and slammed it head first into the floor. A quick stomp stopped the ghoul''s floundering, and Oak stepped over the broken corpse.


    Geezer poked his head out from the cellar, looked around and decided Oak was perfectly capable of dealing with this by himself. The dog¡¯s head vanished back into the darkness.


    The last two ghouls left had gotten back on their feet and they were staring at him like men dying of hunger stared at a roasted pig.


    ¡°Well, come on then, you wastes of flesh,¡± Oak said with a smile on his face. ¡°I want to paint these walls with your innards.¡±


    The ghouls charged forward, and Oak¡¯s sword blurred.


    ***


    Hunger was really bothering Oak. After the fight with the ghouls had ended, and he and Geezer had slipped away, he began to feel the cost of all that running and fighting acutely. Tiredly, he checked his progress.


    Status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Infernal engine


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Souls: 46</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Fuel: 8</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Attunement in progress</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branches


    </td>


    <td>


    Boons


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Flauros


    </td>


    <td>


    Pyromancy: grants an intuitive understanding of fire and the basic ability to summon it.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Amdusias


    </td>


    <td>


    Ears of Amdusias: grants sharp hearing and the basic ability to see one''s environment through sound.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Buer


    </td>


    <td>


    Demonic Constitution: grants slightly faster healing from injury, lessens fatigue and increases the rate of recovery from physical activity.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Theurgy


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ghosts: 6</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Wards


    </td>


    <td>


    Ghosts attached: 1


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Trauma weapons


    </td>


    <td>


    Kaarina¡¯s Horror


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Thought-plagues


    </td>


    <td>


    Kushim¡¯s Bewilderment


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Scouts


    </td>


    <td>


    Raven


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Miscellaneous ghosts


    </td>


    <td>


    Sparrow


    Cat


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The fuel number had ticked up again, which pleased him greatly. It was a good thing ghouls were quite dumb, impatient and easily distracted. If the entire pack had been waiting for them over the cellar hatch, things might have ended badly. His hands trembled, and his stomach felt like a bottomless pit, desperate for any nourishment that could fill it.


    Sadly, food was not easy to find in the City of God, unless you were partial to ghoul meat, which Oak definitely was not. Geezer had once again been more than happy to fill his belly, but Oak was still holding onto hope. It was not like there was any guarantee he could even eat the flesh of a ghoul and not poison himself. He was not a hellhound.


    Oak had not gotten lost during their mad flight away from the ghouls, so they continued to traverse the streets and alleys of Ma''aseh Merkavah, slowly but surely making their way towards the obelisk on the western corner of the city center.


    Houses, apartments, parks, and squares blurred together as they marched in silence through gloom and fog. The combination of constant danger, boredom and hunger was picking Oak apart bit by bit. He was so tired he almost walked past it.


    Like a mirage in the desert heat, a barracks rose from the fog on Oak¡¯s right. He stared at it and blinked stupidly, gazing at it with uncomprehending eyes.


    ¡°Geezer, is that a barracks or am I dreaming?¡± Oak asked and rubbed his eyes. Hope surged inside him, but he squashed it down. There was no guarantee the place had the supplies he needed or that those supplies would be in good condition.


    With a slightly shaking hand, Oak opened the wooden gate and stepped under the arch. Inside the walls was a training ground and a large barracks building where the garrison calling this place home had once slept before the Doom. It was much like all the barracks in any castle or town Oak had ever seen. A big, blocky rectangle with a gable roof and a color scheme that induced depression. The designers of this particular rectangle had decided that the color of mud was a perfect choice for a building meant for soldiers.


    In Oak¡¯s experience, mud was a central part of all campaigns, so the choice was warranted.


    They walked across the training grounds and headed straight for the front door of the barracks. Oak could barely contain his excitement. If he was lucky, the barracks would have a supply storage. There was no telling what they might find here. I might even find field rations, he thought, and giggled silently into his beard.


    Geezer looked at him and huffed in annoyance. The hound regarded him with an expression that seemed to convey a deep sense of disappointment with his owner''s current levity. They were, after all, in deep shit, with no end in sight. Oak ignored his dog¡¯s opinion, on account of the fact that Geezer felt a sense of impending doom on most days of the week, and it was better to live in hope than wallow in despair.


    One of them had to be an optimist, and considering his company, the job landed on Oak¡¯s lap.


    It took a bit of pulling, but eventually the door of the barracks opened with a creak and, after a brief period of intense listening to make sure the noise had not awakened another monster, Oak and Geezer stepped into the darkness.

 Chapter 15

    The inside of the barracks was so dark that Oak had to rely on echolocation to find his way.


    The echoes of his footsteps and the tip tap of Geezer¡¯s paws painted the small entrance hall and the hallways, leaving from it to his mind in vivid detail. There was a counter in the center of the entrance hall and two hallways, one on the left and one on the right, going down the length of the building.


    If not for him and Geezer, it would have been utterly silent.


    Oak chose the hallway on the left and started exploring, sword ready for any creepy crawlies hiding in the darkness. Would be nice if I hadn¡¯t dropped my shield, but that¡¯s life for you. An endless opportunity for mishaps, disappointments, and tragedies of all kinds, he thought. Still breathing though, so I can¡¯t really complain.


    Holding on to that comforting thought, he opened the first few doors he came across, not finding anything interesting or useful. Just some clothes that were too small for him, personal effects of no real utility, and enough scrolls and stacks of paper to run the bureaucracy of a town like Spoke for three generations.


    If you had to pick one thing that united different peoples and cultures across space and time, paperwork seemed like a safe bet. Apparently, no one could survive without it, which Oak had always found puzzling. He could barely read on a good day, and it had never been an issue for him.


    Hanging from a hook next to the fourth door of the hallway, Oak found an oil lamp and, after some trial and error, he was able to light it. The flame burned with a warm glow and cast flickering shadows on the brick walls of the barracks. With a lamp in hand, Oak started going through the rooms one by one.


    He would not sleep in this place until he had searched every nook and cranny of it.


    ***


    The light of the lantern shone on the bare walls of the hallway, and shadows danced to the beat of Oak¡¯s steps. They were about midway through the building and he had found plenty of bunks covered with rotted away scraps of linen and chests filled with soldiers'' belongings, but nothing edible yet. Luckily, there were still plenty of rooms left to search through.


    ¡°Geezer, there is something we need to discuss,¡± Oak whispered, and gave the dog a meaningful look. ¡°From now on, if something pounces on me from behind, I expect you to help out.¡±


    Geezer whined and looked away. The hound''s ears laid flat against his head.


    Oak carefully touched the bite wound on his right shoulder and winced. One of the ghouls they had run into earlier had gotten him good. At least the wound was not bleeding anymore. ¡°I know you are scared, but if something eats me, your odds are not looking too good either.¡±


    He set the lamp down for a moment and gave Geezer a hug. ¡°You have been very brave so far, and I wouldn''t ask if it was not necessary, but I think you might need to be brave for the foreseeable future,¡± Oak said, and kissed the top of Geezer¡¯s head. ¡°I am going to need your help to get out of this city in one piece.¡±


    Geezer grumbled and shook himself, slapping his ears against Oak¡¯s face. He laughed, picked up the lamp and opened another door, sword raised and ready to swing if need be. The room beyond the doorway happened to be a storage room, and it was in excellent condition. Runes glowed faintly on the walls and on the wooden chests, neatly stacked on top of each other.


    He stepped inside and prepared himself for crushing disappointment. If this room had no food or it had gone bad, he just might cry. Geezer could sense his growing tension, and the hound pushed his head against Oak¡¯s thigh in a silent sign of support.


    Here goes.


    Oak cracked open a chest and let out a sob.


    There, inside the chest in neat little rows stacked on top of each other, were packages of hardtack. With a shaking hand, Oak snatched one, opened it, and started eating. It was the best thing he had ever tasted in all twenty-seven years of his life. He had to set his backpack down and take out some water halfway through the package because the hardtack was so dry he wasn¡¯t able to swallow it down, but after that he got back to eating, a wine bottle full of water in hand, taking sips between every few bites.


    He ate three full packages before he could even consider checking out the rest of the chests.


    Things only got better from there. Oak found much more hardtack, and entire chests filled with salted pork and corned beef. His mouth watered as he imagined how good a piece of hardtack with salted meat on top of it would taste like.


    ¡°By the Corpse-God, Geezer, we struck gold,¡± Oak said as he gathered food into his backpack. Now he just had to find the kitchen of this place so he could cook the meat. It was okay to eat without cooking in an emergency, but he did not want to risk it if he did not have to.


    After eating another package of hardtack, Oak made sure all the chests were closed, gathered his things, and set out to explore once more. He felt great. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was not hungry. A weakness he had grown used to had vanished and his body felt full of energy. It was hard not to whistle a little tune as he combed through the sleeping quarters of the soldiers of the Old Empire, but he stayed quiet.


    In a cabinet next to a bunk that was at least a foot too small for him to sleep in, Oak found an actual, well-made rucksack.


    The leatherworker who made this should get a medal.


    He stroked the well-oiled surface of the rucksack in wonder. It was in almost perfect condition, despite being at least three hundred years old. Oak quickly discarded his own haphazard backpack made of burlap sacks and rope and packed all of his supplies into the rucksack.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    As he walked out of the room and headed for the back of the building, he could not help feeling optimistic. Ashmedai must have blessed him with good fortune.


    There was a water fountain at the back of the building, next to a large door with a plaque on it that Oak could not read. The fountain was bubbling along without a care in the world, crystal clear water cascading to a basin and vanishing from sight. Oak stared at it with suspicion. Things were currently going far too well for his liking.


    Oak looked around the large room and strained his hearing to the maximum, but he heard nothing. Geezer looked at him like he was touched in the head, padded to the fountain and started drinking.


    Since nothing untoward happened, when Geezer was done, Oak filled all the bottles he had with him and drank his fill. The water was so cold it made his headache, but it tasted fresh. The city might be filled with monsters and we are still quite a ways away from getting out of this place, but facing it all with a full belly and a quenched thirst is a small mercy I am certainly thankful for. He wiped his mouth and shook himself.


    ¡°Right, let''s get that door open so we can move on and explore the other side of the building. I want to finally go to sleep,¡± Oak said and yanked on the door with a plaque on it.


    The door swung open and the warm glow of the oil lamp revealed the contents of the room in all of their glistening glory. At some point, Oak had opened his mouth, though he could not remember doing it. He closed it with a click and shook his head.


    ¡°By the bloody Chariot. Geezer, am I dreaming,¡± Oak asked.


    Right in front of him, placed on stands across the walls and the floor of the room, were Elven weapons and two suits of armor. He had found the barracks¡¯ armory. Different types of swords, spears and axes covered the walls while suits of armor hanged on two stands in the middle of the room. Sadly, Oak could tell with a look that neither set of armor would fit his massive frame, but the weapons were a different matter.


    One weapon in particular instantly caught Oak¡¯s eye. It was a large two-handed falchion. A cleaver falchion, in fact. It had a broad single-edged blade that broadened still towards the tip. The blade of the sword did taper into a fairly round, almost flat point at the tip, but it was clear by just looking at it that this was not a thrusting weapon. Oak thought it was glorious.


    He crossed the room and picked it up reverently. The sword had a fairly thick spine, but it was not too heavy, somewhere between five and six pounds. With his strength, wielding it in a single hand if the need arose would not be an issue. Oak slid his hand along the blade''s surface, touching the runes carved into it and listening to the ghosts brimming inside the blade. They whispered of chopping men, elves and beast alike in half, of rending flesh apart and wreaking ruin to all.


    Oh yes. You are exquisite.


    He felt a tingle in the blade, a symmetry of purpose. ¡°I will use you well,¡± Oak said as he stroked the blade¡¯s spine. ¡°We will make such merriment together.¡±


    Geezer let out a huff and turned away from him.


    ¡°Hey, no need to be jealous.¡± Oak laughed. ¡°I am not replacing you with a piece of metal, no matter how well forged that piece of metal is.¡±


    The sheath was a plain, but functional piece of wood covered with leather. He took it from the wall and slid the falchion inside. With a bit of fiddling, he attached the sheath to his belt. When everything was in place, he did a couple of practice draws to see how it felt, and found no issues.


    It is truly a gift to be a tall man with long arms. A shorter fellow might not even be able to draw this behemoth from the hip.


    Even though he had found a magnificent sword for himself, Oak was far from done. He looked at the sword he had taken from one of Jarl Shaw¡¯s carls what felt like a lifetime ago, and considered his options. In truth, he had been using it up to this point out of habit. It felt a bit too long to swing freely inside buildings and tight spaces, and he now had a much better option to use when he had room to spare.


    The meat cleaver he had found was the length of a short sword anyway, so he could just start using it and pick something from the armory for his left hand, since he no longer had a shield. His decision made, Oak left the nameless carl''s sword and sheath leaning against the wall, and walked over to the stand near the left corner, which held all the short swords in the armory.


    Oak had considered an axe, but ultimately decided against it. Axes were great in his opinion, if you had a shield, but without one they felt lacking, since blocking with an axe was not so easy. He had seen enough people lose fingers trying to make that work and did not feel the need to walk in their footsteps. Since he already had a weapon in the meat cleaver that was more suited to offense than defense, picking a sword that he could use to block if the need arose was a natural choice. He ended up picking a double-edged sword with a minimally leaf-shaped blade and a narrow point.


    A falchion on his left hip, a short sword on his right hip and the meat cleaver in a sheath across his chest, Oak felt ready for war. He was about to leave when a thought struck him.


    Should I bring a weapon to the person I am here to rescue?


    He could surely attach something to the side of his rucksack, and if he put himself in the shoes of the unfortunate soul he was here to save, a weapon did not sound bad at all.


    What should he bring then? Oak did not know what they liked to use or what they were proficient with. Since Ashmedai spoke of a tortured soul, Oak thought it safe to assume the person he was rescuing might not be in tiptop shape.


    If I was horribly weakened, and on death''s door, what weapon would suit me best? Oak thought, and stared intently at the collection of swords, spears and axes in front of him.


    A spear. A spear would be best. Easy to use, fairly light and you can wield it in two hands. And yet I can¡¯t choose a spear because they are too long and unwieldy in tight spaces. I don¡¯t want the weapon to catch onto something if I have to run away from a monster.


    The longer Oak looked, the more his attention lingered on the longswords.


    One of those might do. Not much heavier than a one handed sword, and you can use two hands so the load is essentially halved when you swing it around. Not that hard to use and even a child could hit me with one hard enough to kill me if they struck something vital.


    He ended up picking a double-edged longsword with a narrow blade and a needle sharp point. The sword was very light, maybe just a smidgen over two pounds, if even that. Even an infirm grandmother could poke holes into someone with this toothpick, he thought, and secured the sheathed longsword to the side of his rucksack with some rope.


    With one last longing look towards all the beautiful weapons glistening in the light of his lamp, Oak stepped out of the armory and closed the door. He had an inspection to finish.


    It was well past bedtime, but he was damned if he was going to die in his sleep because one of the rooms in the other hallway housed a nest of man-eating mice or something equally ridiculous.

 Chapter 16

    Cooking was a simple pleasure. Oak watched pieces of corned beef and salted pork roasting over an open flame, salivating, just like the hound sitting next to him. The meat was sizzling already and the smell coming from the oven was divine.


    After he and Geezer had finished their inspection of the barracks, Oak had decided to cook some supper for himself in the kitchen they had found next to a small mess hall near the entrance. Geezer had looked so forlorn that Oak had given him a couple of pieces of salted pork to chew on. Apparently, overly salty meat made Geezer sneeze violently.


    Who knew it could be this entertaining to watch a hellhound eat?


    Geezer swallowed another piece of meat and sneezed again. It was hard not to snigger, but somehow Oak managed it.


    Supper was a meager but enjoyable affair. Oak said a quick prayer to Ashmedai, thanking the demon for his good fortune even though he knew it was mostly a fruitless endeavor in this city, forsaken by angels and demons alike. Then he dug in with vigor.


    Corned beef and hardtack. A combination that was surely blessed by something outside of the material. Oak stuffed his face and almost wept with joy. It was a religious experience and he would fight anyone who claimed otherwise.


    Licking fat from his fingers and thoroughly sated, Oak moved into one of the sleeping quarters next to the kitchen, Geezer following right behind him. He barricaded the door with a couple of bed frames and fell into a bunk that was so short his legs were hanging down to touch the floor. Geezer jumped onto the bed and settled on top of him like the world¡¯s heaviest blanket.


    For at least three hundred years the bunk had been lying there unused, and it was about as soft as the stone floor, but Oak was out like a light the moment he closed his eyes.


    In the following morning, if it even was morning since it was impossible to tell time inside Ma''aseh Merkavah, he broke his fast, stocked up on food and water and said his goodbyes to the barracks.


    Having a good night''s sleep and a full belly did wonders for a man¡¯s outlook on life. Oak felt light and strong. Clearly, his body and soul had adapted to the presence of the infernal engine and Ashmedai¡¯s essence. There was a snap to his reflexes that had not been there before, and the difference in strength was noticeable. If the situation called for it, he might be able to suplex a horse.


    No sooner did he delight in his newfound physical prowess than a notification popped up on the upper right corner of his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Attunement complete.


    Your body and soul are now in tune with your infernal engine.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Body: slight increase in speed, strength and toughness.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Soul: slight increase in casting capacity.</li>


    </ul>


    Additional branches and boons can now be grafted by your patron, without the risk of ontological meltdown.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Now he just needed to find another grove and commune with Ashmedai to get more boons. Preferably after he had killed some more monsters, so his infernal engine could power another boon.


    With a smile on his face and a song in his heart, Oak walked into the gloom of the City of God with Geezer by his side. The familiar sight of lonely lanterns on houses and street corners, still hanging on by a thread in their doomed fight against the shadows, felt inspiring to him. The malice in the air seemed a touch lighter, like it could not quite get a hold of him anymore, and a fire of belief burned inside his belly.


    We just might make it after all, he thought, gaze locked onto the massive ziggurat that ruled the center of the city. I guess we have to, if the entire continent of Pairi-Daeza is depending on it. Sleep well and sleep long, Yam-Nahar. We are not quite ready yet to face a dragon¡¯s folly.


    ***


    It had taken Oak and Geezer six days in total to reach the obelisk, but they had finally done it.


    Oak stood on the edge of the square, looking past the obelisk at one of Empress Aoibheann¡¯s summer palaces, where the tortured soul he was supposed to rescue was being held. If the buildings around him right now were opulent, and in his opinion they definitely were, the summer palace transcended the word opulent entirely.


    It was shaped like a crescent moon. Seven tall, white and glistening towers rose from the crescent, starting from the points and rising ever higher as they approached the tallest tower in the middle of the structure. The palace had a large round garden which, together with the palace itself, formed the shape of a full moon.


    There was just one problem. It was more accurate to say he was looking up at the summer palace. Ashmedai¡¯s instructions had failed to mention the fact that because Ma''aseh Merkavah had twisted itself into a sphere when Yam-Nahar and Aoibheann summoned God¡¯s dead flesh into creation, the summer palace was now up on the slope of the sphere.


    By the fucking dead, what a task.


    He drummed the pommel of his falchion with his fingers and tried not to think about falling to his death. The palace was not quite horizontal with the ground, but it did not look like an easy climb.


    Thanks for small mercies, I guess. Things could always be worse.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    According to Ashmedai, the person he was here to rescue was held in the large ballroom at the center of the palace. Not a place Oak would have used as a prison, but he figured he shouldn¡¯t complain, since it made his job easier than if the person was held in a dungeon somewhere. He stared at the streets and buildings which made up the wall of the sphere, curving upward until every wall became a floor or a ceiling.


    I have climbed trees before. How hard can it really be?


    ¡°Nothing for it, right Geezer?¡± Oak asked. ¡°If you can¡¯t climb all the way up to the palace, I¡¯m going to have to tie you to myself with rope and haul you up there.¡±


    He could swear Geezer¡¯s expression soured when the dog heard him. The hellhound shook himself and started making his way around the square.


    ¡°Hey, no need to get pissed at me, I will be doing you a favor,¡± Oak said and jogged after his dog. Geezer did not deign to notice him.


    They did not have to walk for long before the cobblestone street under their feet sloped slightly upwards. Unlike the rest of the city, the buildings in the neighborhood showed signs of damage and there were piles of trash and rubble everywhere. Utterly broken carts and wagons filled the foggy streets. Oak assumed the reason for this was the curved slope he and Geezer would soon be climbing.


    When Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah had twisted upon itself and formed a sphere, everything not nailed down had rolled downhill. The results were not pretty. Wagons had crashed through the walls of houses, and in some cases, entire buildings had clearly collapsed when their foundations had twisted and warped.


    As he walked, Oak took out his remaining rope and secured it to the outside of his rucksack, so it was easy to reach. Then he tightened every strap on the rucksack and checked all of his weapons. If one of them got loose from its sheath and dropped, he would not climb back down to get it.


    Well, I might have to make an exception for the falchion if I drop it by accident. I haven¡¯t even gotten to use the thing yet.


    Ma''aseh Merkavah had always had a sense of unreality to it, like creation was not quite sure what to think of the City of God. This feeling of unreality heightened immensely when it felt like? the very ground itself wanted to escape from under his feet.


    By now, every building had a funny tilt to them, and Oak was leaning forward so he could walk up the slope. The smooth rock of the cobbles felt slippery under his feet.


    They stopped for a short break in a small alley where they could rest a bit and take a drink of water without worrying about sliding down the slope. Oak lay against the cool stonewall of the house behind him, looking up at the curve of the city.


    It was freaky and unnatural how the buildings straight above him just stayed there, suspended in the air above him. At any second, whatever it was that was holding the city in its grip might cease and let go, letting all of those streets and buildings hanging there to come crashing down. He suppressed a shudder.


    At least it would be over quickly, Oak thought and took a sip of water. A one-two punch of death and burial.


    As he was about to stand up and start strapping the rucksack to his back, Oak noticed some type of white string criss-crossing the mouth of an alleyway maybe two hundred feet up the slope. There was something about it that felt out of place, and he stared at it for a bit, trying to work out what it was. His gut was telling him to stay far away from the string, but he could not understand why.


    Suddenly, Oak realized what he was looking at. The white string covering the mouth of the alleyway was a giant spider web. A memory from the day prior surged forth and he could see in his mind''s eye as the wolf-chimera ripped chunks of meat from a horse-sized, hairy spider. This time, Oak did not manage to suppress his shudder.


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± he said and started strapping the rucksack to his back. ¡°Why does it have to be spiders? Why not giant rabbits? Or a nice giant mouse? But no, eight-legged nightmares it is.¡±


    Geezer noticed his agitation and sat down next to him, so Oak could give the dog a scratch or two. He complied and started babying the hellhound. It usually made him feel better.


    ¡°After this is done, I want to return to the North and live on a mountain somewhere where the snow never melts,¡± Oak told Geezer, voice barely above a whisper. ¡°No insects or any other creepy crawlies in sight. What a paradise.¡±


    He tightened the last leather strap across his chest, left the alley and started heading upwards. The incline was so steep now that he was almost walking on all fours, like the hellhound next to him.


    They passed the first spider web without issue. The problem was, there were plenty more of them around and they seemed to increase in frequency the farther they climbed, blocking doorways and connecting long ago burnt out streetlights to each other. Some of the webs had corpses hanging from them.


    Centipedes were the most common prey caught by the webs, but Oak could swear he saw one web holding the corpse of a goat. He was on his toes, ears open for any sign of movement, but he heard nothing.


    In no time at all, the slope of the streets was so steep, Oak had to search the cobblestones for handholds and drag himself upwards to make progress. Geezer began to have trouble, and they stopped once more at a convenient alley so Oak could attach the dog to his own waist with rope.


    Standing straight on the wall of the house under his feet, Oak made a crude harness and, after a bit of persuading, he put it on Geezer. The dog was not happy at all and Geezer was even less happy, when they continued upwards and he was left dangling under Oak like a piece of luggage.


    Keep calm and carry on. Just one hold at a time. Do not look down under any circumstances. There is no need to rush. There is also no need to be embarrassed if you piss yourself. It would be a completely natural reaction to this nonsense.


    Fingers straining, Oak took hold of another cobblestone protruding from the street to haul himself and his cargo up another foot, when the stone broke off from the street. He pushed off the wall with his feet and jumped at a nearby streetlight, nearly falling to his death. Geezer swung around under him, frozen in fear as Oak held onto the pole for dear life, his face white as a sheet. His heart tried to beat itself out of his chest.


    I¡¯m not sure, but I think I might have peed a little. Right. Rule number one of climbing up magical, almost vertical streets: check your handholds properly.


    The mists of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah crawled up the surrounding slope, and excited whispers filled the air. There were faces in the mist, watching him. Waiting for him to fall to his death.


    It took some time before Oak¡¯s hands stopped shaking, and he could continue.


    The tension of climbing something that was essentially a cliff face at this point, and seeing signs of giant spiders everywhere, but not seeing a single actual spider, was so nerve racking that Oak was almost relieved when the Ears of Amdusias confirmed his worst fears.


    A spider the size of a warhorse was stalking them, waiting for the perfect moment to sink its fangs into fresh meat.

 Chapter 17

    Oak¡¯s arms were really feeling the strain of climbing up the slope of the sphere. Thank the Corpse-God for potholes, he thought as he dragged himself, all of their supplies and the hellhound dangling under him up another two feet.


    The giant spider had followed on their trail like an evil shadow for some time. Then it suddenly sped up, rushing up the slope with speed that defied expectations, which almost gave Oak a heart attack. Luckily, it did not attack them straight away. Instead, it had circled around and passed them by, likely choosing an ambush position about sixty feet above their current location.


    Since then, there had been no sign of the monster. Oak presumed the spider had not moved from its chosen murder spot at the mouth of an alleyway, but he could not be sure. It seemed content to wait and let its food come straight to it, which would have happened if the sounds Oak was making as he climbed had not bounced back to his ears from the eight-legged monster, revealing its horrific form.


    Ironic how sound can reveal an utterly silent hunter, he thought, desperately searching for a safe haven where they might have a fighting chance.


    There was no way he and Geezer could face the spider in battle if they were climbing up the slope at the same time. Oak could not even draw a weapon without the risk of plummeting to his doom and dragging Geezer down with him. The hellhound? was even more defenseless, since he was hanging from the harness attached to Oak¡¯s waist.


    On Oak¡¯s left was a four story building sticking out into the void from the slope, with plenty of room to fight on top of the outside wall. He started moving sideways across the street to get to it. The spider stirred when he changed direction and creeped to the very edge of the alley it was hiding in, sneaking a glance around the corner down at Oak and Geezer from the safety of the shadows.


    Its fangs were rubbing against each other menacingly as it watched Oak struggle to get across the street.


    Climbing sideways proved much harder than climbing upwards. Every step and shuffle towards the side of the street sent Geezer swinging under him, threatening to drag him from the cobblestones and send them both to their deaths. Oak¡¯s hands were clammy with cold sweat, and every hold he took felt like the one that would betray him. He was acutely aware of the spider''s gaze as he tried to hurry towards a better battleground.


    A couple feet from his destination, Oak¡¯s right foot slipped, and he held onto the stone with a white knuckled grip, so afraid that for a moment his world shrank on itself and the only thing he could feel was the crevice he had jammed his fingers into.


    Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Oak tried to make his limbs move, but they would not budge. Come on now, it''s just a couple of feet away, he thought to himself, trying to persuade his hands to find new holds. A heavy presence settled upon him, dripping with rancor and spite. It felt like Ma''aseh Merkavah itself was waiting with bated breath, hoping he would fall and break his body on the cobblestones below.


    Never has two meager feet seemed like such a vast distance.


    His hands shook but refused to move. If I stay here I will die, Oak thought, but it did not seem to help matters.


    Geezer. If I stay here shaking on the slope, I will kill Geezer.


    Oak moved his left hand and found a new hold.


    When Oak finally scrambled on top of the outer wall of the four-story apartment building and dragged Geezer up there with him, he felt an immense sense of relief. If the spider had attacked while they had been hanging from the cobblestones with nothing but empty air under their feet, Oak would not have given himself and Geezer good odds.


    Now with a solid surface under his boots and room to swing his blade, things were different. He avoided looking in the spider''s direction. There was no need to. The tapestry painted to his mind by the waves of sound bouncing around the slope revealed the monster agitatedly moving back and forth, debating whether it should strike now or keep waiting.


    Oak quickly let Geezer loose from the harness, ripped the door of the apartment building open, and lowered his rucksack into the darkness. He motioned for Geezer to follow the rucksack inside so the dog would be safe from harm while he got the spider''s attention.


    Geezer did not do as he was told. The dog sat down next to the door and refused to budge.


    ¡°Fine, be that way,¡± Oak grumbled but petted the hellhound anyway, out of gratitude. It felt good to have someone by his side.


    The spider was still debating with itself, so Oak decided to make it clear that if the thing wanted to eat, it would have to fight for its dinner. It was not so easy to intentionally provoke a giant spider into attacking, but he talked himself into doing it, since waiting around was also a terrible idea.


    His falchion cleared its sheath with a satisfying sound and he pointed it straight at the monster''s hiding place sixty feet above him. ¡°Here I stand. Either retreat to whatever deep and dark hole spawned your horrid ilk or get down here and fight me,¡± Oak said calmly, staring straight at the spider¡¯s black eyes.


    The spider stilled, then clicked its fangs together.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Oh yes, I see you, you wretched abomination,¡± Oak said. ¡°I have enough food and water with me to last for days, so let''s not turn this into a waiting game. I have places to be.¡±


    With the chance of a surprise attack lost, the spider charged from the alley. It was hungry and it would not let its prey escape. Even if the spider was the size of a horse, it was certainly much more graceful. It was running full tilt across, and then down the sloping, almost vertical street. Its eight legs gripped the cobblestones so well it almost looked like it was moving on flat ground.


    When it was about twenty feet away from the building Oak and Geezer were standing on, it jumped right towards Oak.


    Oak cursed and hopped back, barely avoiding being squished into paste by the monstrosity as it landed on the wall of the apartment building. The spider wasted no time, rushing forward, ready to sink its fangs into his face. Instead of running away screaming, like he really really wanted to, he stepped forward to meet the charging spider, and took a mighty swing at it with his falchion.


    The hairy, brown and gray-colored monster seemed surprised, dodging back at the last second to avoid having its face cleaved in two. It hissed furiously at Oak and twitched back and forth, looking for an angle.


    Geezer circled behind the spider, body low and hackles raised, a deep, rumbling growl spilling from between his teeth. The sound was lower than it had any right to be. For a tense second, all was still. Then the spider rushed forward once more with explosive speed and Oak dodged left, swinging his sword once more. Both parties connected. Oak cut off the spider''s right front leg, while the monster clipped him with the rest of its legs and sent him sprawling.


    Just as the spider rounded on Oak fangs at the ready, stump dripping blue ichor, screeching in pain and fury the likes of which the creature had probably never felt before, Geezer showed his worth. The hellhound bit the spider in the ass and started ripping the flesh apart.


    If the monster had been mad before, now it was apocalyptically furious. It bucked wildly, all remaining seven legs twitching and slamming the brick surface of the wall. As Geezer held on with grim determination, Oak stumbled upright and set the spider''s face on fire with a concentrated burst of flame.


    Abandoning all reason, the spider started running towards the man responsible for boiling most of its eyes. Oak barely had time to raise his blade before the giant arthropod collided with him, and the force of the charge sent him flying backwards. Oak landed roughly, rolling on the bricks until the bottom of a balcony finally stopped him.


    The impact was not gentle, and he shook stars from his eyes as he scrambled back up.


    Oak brought his sword up once again in the nick of time, as the spider closed the distance and tried to burrow its fangs into his shoulder. He held onto the spine of the blade with his left hand and to the hilt with his right, pressing the edge against the fangs and staring right at the horrifically burned, still smoldering face of the spider.


    The little hairs around the spider''s ravaged eyes were burning merrily. The monster gave him a hate filled look with its only remaining good eye, and pressed him against the bottom of the balcony, bringing its entire weight to bear.


    Naturally, he let go of the spine of his falchion and punched the spider in the eye.


    The spider jerked back, spasming in pain, and tried to futilely rub its ruined face with its remaining front leg. Oak and Geezer did not let the opportunity go to waste. The hellhound climbed onto the spider''s back and bit down, tearing off a chunk of flesh, while Oak took two quick steps to the right and cut off two of the spider''s legs with a savage swing of his blade.


    Horrid screeching filled the air.


    The spider went down, stumps bleeding blue ichor, splattering the bricks under their feet. The monster spasmed violently and one of the back legs struck Oak in the chest, sending him flying once more. This time, he landed right on the edge of the wall and rolled over it into the emptiness below before he could stop his momentum.


    In a stroke of blind luck, Oak fell only about five feet before he grabbed the corner of an open window and stopped his fall. He swung there, breath caught in his throat, staring at the streets and buildings below him, so far away.


    Fuck me.


    If he dropped, he would have a moment to think before he splattered on a street or went through the roof of some building. I never thought I was afraid of heights, but this little trip is really making me reconsider that notion. He had to try twice to get his falchion into its sheath, but in the end he managed it and took hold of the edge of the window with two hands.


    As he was about to pull himself inside the apartment building he was hanging from, a pair of giant spider legs suddenly appeared from around the corner under him. Another spider had joined the party, and it was hanging upside down on the horizontal wall of the building. The monster crawled around the corner and rushed toward him.


    Oak screamed in fear and sent the hottest blast of flame he could conjure right at the charging spider''s face. Getting lit on fire seemed to be the last thing the monster had expected, because the spider let go of the wall it was hanging from and fell down into the city below. It left a smoke trail behind it as it fell.


    The spider¡¯s front legs beat its ugly face to put out the fire, and it hissed like a kettle on the boil all the way down. It landed hard, crashed onto the sloped street and rolled down until it splattered against a wall of some storefront, leaving a wet smear behind it.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 1 Soul


    + 1 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Right. I¡¯m about done with spiders for the foreseeable future. Freakish thing just had to be hiding in a blind spot behind the building so the Ears of Amdusias could not find it.


    He climbed through the window and tumbled down onto the wall, which was now a floor, since the entire structure was almost sideways. Oak breathed a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes for a second, just rejoicing in the feeling of not hanging over certain death. When he opened them, a spider the size of an average sheep was flying towards his face.


    Oak screamed again and kicked the creature in the abdomen as hard as he could, sending it flying over him, all of its eight hairy legs twitching every which way. He scrambled upright, drew his cleaver and cut the monstrosity in half as it tried to jump at him again.


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    ¡°I am so fucking done with spiders,¡± Oak growled as he looked at the creature in disgust. Somewhere up above, Geezer yelped in pain.


    By the fucking Chariot. I will tear that abomination limb from limb.

 Chapter 18

    Even though it was an utterly terrible idea, Oak dove into the Waking Dream. He would not make it in time to save Geezer with more traditional methods.


    The echoes of suffering flowing through the dream embraced him, licking his form with barbed tongues of misery. Clad in the ghost of a sparrow, Oak flew out of the window he had just arrived through in the real world and headed straight for Geezer.


    There was a simple reason he could do that. Finding an animal, or any mind for that matter, in the Dream, could be quite difficult, but Oak had a rough idea about the dog''s location, and he was very familiar with Geezer¡¯s mind and ward signature. He had made the hound¡¯s wards himself, after all. This meant he could find the dog fairly easily in the Dream, no matter what.


    The Waking Dream did not accurately resemble or even represent the real world, but Oak reckoned it was fair to assume the spider had thrown Geezer from its back and punted him against the same balcony he had been standing against when he punched the spider in the eye.


    The bricks of the apartment building were weeping tears of blood suffused with lingering echoes of true suffering, and interference from the currents of the Dream was heavy, but desperation fueled Oak¡¯s search. Failure was not an option. Heedless of the danger, he shifted through the chaos, and located Geezer¡¯s mind. His guess had been right. The hellhound was lying still right against the bottom of the balcony.


    Geezer was hurt, but alive.


    A terrible wrath threatened to sweep aside Oak¡¯s every rational thought, but he pushed the emotions down with gritted teeth. He needed to be cold now, or Geezer was done for. With a twist of his will, Oak let his Scout loose to aid him in his search. Together, they could cover more ground and find the spider before it was too late.


    It paid to be prepared. The raven isolated the spider¡¯s mind first, just below the waves of lingering malice infecting the Waking Dream of Ma''aseh Merkavah. Fast as lightning, it flew straight back to him and shared the location.


    Without hesitation, Oak shed the trappings of the sparrow, and struck with Kaarina¡¯s Horror.


    The results were less than ideal, considering the monster did not even have wards. Kaarina¡¯s Horror was a weapon crafted of human memories, meant to shatter sentient minds. The trauma he had used to make it was quite incomprehensible to a horse sized spider, which diminished the stinger''s effectiveness.


    As Oak struck again and again, sinking the stinger into the spider''s mind, but making very little headway in actually purging the monster, he noticed Geezer had moved again. The dog''s mind was blinking away from the battle and suddenly it vanished from the wall. The clever hellhound had probably jumped down into the building through a window.


    Oak smiled and retreated. He pulled out of the dive and snapped back into his own body with a jolt.


    Time to finally kill that bastard.


    ***


    Oak rose back on the wall like an avatar of wrath, falchion in hand.


    As he made his way through the apartment building, his rage and disgust had built and built upon themselves until he wanted to burn every spider that had ever existed to ash. He breathed hard, staring at the ruined form of his foe, and a nasty smile crept over his face.


    The spider had seen better days. It was missing three legs, and Geezer had done a number on its back. Its face was a burned ruin and only a single black eye stared back at Oak as the spider watched him approach, blueish ichor bleeding on the bricks from its many wounds, making little rivers as it ran along the mortar.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Oak said and licked the gap in his teeth, where a new tooth was slowly growing to replace the one Gluk had taken from him. ¡°Do you mind if I kill you and beat your corpse until I feel better?¡±


    The giant spider did not respond. It moved laboriously to the left, trying to slip past him and escape. Oak moved with it, not leaving any room for the monster to run away and disappear into the shadows of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. The spider seemed to realize escape was no longer possible, and it hissed at Oak, clicking its fangs together to scare him away.


    Oak paid the display no mind and closed the distance with two quick strides.


    The spider tried to dodge backwards, but it was too slow. A downward chop of his sword cut off the spider''s remaining front leg, and the monster lost its balance. It crashed down onto the wall and Oak thought he could feel the palpable hate in the horror¡¯s gaze as it stared at him, finally accepting defeat.


    As Oak raised his sword high, the spider hissed and spat in the face of its death. A glob of spit landed on his boot and started eating its way through the leather.


    ¡°You absolute fucker,¡± Oak said and brought his sword down, splitting the spider¡¯s face and the front section of its body in two. He quickly wiped his boot against the brick, getting most of the spider¡¯s caustic spit off of his only piece of footwear.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


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    At some point, Geezer had climbed back on the wall. The dog walked up to Oak, and sat down next to him, staring at the spider¡¯s mutilated corpse. Oak knelt down and dug his fingers into Geezer¡¯s fur. It was completely black now, and even coarser than it had been before. They had both changed much in the last six days.


    Now that the fight was over, the anger bled out of Oak. He gave Geezer a scratch, looking at the disgusting spider corpse and wondering if the city was causing him to lose what remained of his sanity.


    ¡°You know Geezer, even though I absolutely hated that eight-legged monstrosity, I have to give it its due. That bastard spent its last moments trying to ruin my boots out of sheer spite, and I have to respect that,¡± Oak said and rubbed his beard in thought. ¡°This fucking city, Geezer. By the Chariot.¡±


    He shook his head and stood up. It was time he went to get his rucksack, and they made themselves scarce.


    Who knows what Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah might throw at us as if we linger here for too long? Better get going while we still draw breath.


    Leaving the scene of battle behind proved a wise decision. By the time Oak and Geezer had gotten a couple of buildings between them and the apartment building, he could hear a fight erupt behind them. A horde of spiders had arrived, and he was pretty sure the scavengers were fighting over the corpse on top of the apartment building''s wall.


    In my humble opinion, most of the monsters here are a bit too ready and willing to engage in cannibalism, Oak thought as he moved up the slope, rucksack on his back and Geezer hanging once again in the harness under him.


    Almost falling from the slope on multiple occasions had caused Oak to reassess his climbing technique, and he had realized that, unsurprisingly, he was being a moron.


    Sometimes I really wonder how I am still alive.


    Oak pushed himself upwards with his legs, grabbed good holds for his hands, and then repeated the process.


    You would think the fact that humans walk and run by using our feet would have clued me in to the idea that I should also climb mainly with my feet, but no one has ever accused me of being too smart.


    Suddenly, all the sounds of the spiders behind them fighting over who would get to dine on a nice, crunchy corpse seized, and a sensation of utterly bone shattering coldness traveled through the Waking Dream. Something had just purged a staggering amount of spiders in one go.


    Oak had no clue what could do that, nor did he want to find out, so he picked up the pace. It would be a shame to stumble on the homestretch and get my mind eaten by some nameless horror, he thought and pushed himself and Geezer upwards as fast as he was able.


    ***


    The summer palace was not far away.


    They had stopped to rest and eat in a small temple made of white marble jutting out of the slope. It was dedicated to the Choir of the Seraphim, which was not ideal. Oak was lying on his back inside the temple with Geezer right next to him, admiring the mural painting on the wall above him.


    It covered the entire wall and depicted the Night of Fratricide, and the death of Samael, in the hands of the Seraphim. Starting from the left, the painting immortalized the duel between the Adversary and Archangel Mika¡¯il.


    Their battle took them from the lowest hell to the highest heaven, where the blood of the Mother still ebbed, staining their wings. At last, knees deep in his Mother¡¯s blood, a weeping Samael cast Mika¡¯il down and pierced the chest of his enemy with his sword. Wounded and mad with sorrow, Samael knelt as the six-winged forms of the Seraphim surrounded him and seven lances pierced him in turn.


    Something about the mural tugged Oak¡¯s heartstrings and his thoughts turned to his own mother. He had never known her touch or heard her voice. Or if he had, he could not remember it. His mother had died in childbirth and he had learned of her secondhand through his father''s stories.


    What would you think of me, mother, if you were still alive?


    As the old man had told it, she had been a no-nonsense kind of woman with a snappy voice and a will of steel. Mother had not suffered fools, which is why it was so surprising she had married one. Or so his father had always liked to joke.


    The raw pain depicted on Samael¡¯s and Mika¡¯il¡¯s faces was a familiar thing.


    Geezer rolled onto his back and huffed, demanding Oak to scratch his bulging tummy. Oak snorted and gave in, scratching and petting the hellhound in companionable silence.


    ¡°You always know when I am moody, don¡¯t you Geezer,¡± Oak said after a while. Geezer¡¯s red eyes found his own, and he smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t thank you enough for it.¡±


    Geezer just ground his back against the stonewall, tongue lolling out of his mouth as the dog enjoyed his well-deserved comforts. Oak snorted and picked up another piece of hardtack to chew on.


    The dog gave him a pointed look, and Oak shook his head.


    ¡°If you eat even a little more corned beef, you are going to explode young man,¡± Oak said and emphasized his point by pointing at the dog¡¯s tummy with his piece of hardtack. Geezer tried to lazily snatch it from Oak¡¯s hand and he easily pulled it out of the dog¡¯s reach.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even like this stuff,¡± Oak said and took a bite. ¡°Then again, neither do I, now that I am not on the brink of starvation. Lack of food is a spice unrivaled by all others.¡±


    They stayed a while in the temple, waiting for their meal to settle. During their rest, Oak moved only once, to take a piss outside. Even though he thought the Choir of Hierarchy and Conquest comprised a bunch of wankers, peeing inside their temple was a step too far for him.


    There was also something funny about peeing on the slope of the sphere and watching it flow downwards like meltwater flowing down the slopes of the mountains back home.


    Turning back from the edge, Oak put away his cock, and set his sights on the summer palace up above. Maybe an hour of climbing, he thought, judging the distance. He nodded to himself.


    It was time to go and fulfill Ashmedai¡¯s oath.

 Chapter 19

    Inch by inch, Oak dragged himself and Geezer atop the base of the tower. He panted for breath and wiped the sweat from his brow as he let Geezer loose from the harness and stowed the ropes away to his rucksack.


    That was not too bad, but I am not looking forward to doing it again anytime soon.


    The climb had gone smoothly enough, and they had not run into any surprises on the approach. A strange foreboding apprehension had built as they got closer and closer to the palace, but the compulsion to turn back had not taken hold.


    Ashmedai had warned him of the enchantment around the palace. The demon had assured it would not cause trouble, since he was a Warlock and had demonic essence flowing through his soul. Geezer was not affected either, for similar reasons. Enchanting a hellhound was a fool''s errand.


    It was calm, peaceful even. In a way, they were currently in one of the safest places in the entire city, since the enchantment kept the monsters away from the palace.


    They walked up the shining crescent, towards the middle section of the complex. Below their feet was the favorite summer palace of Empress Aoibheann in all of its glory, a stunning statement of the wealth and splendor of ages past, sticking almost vertically out from the wall of the sphere that was Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    Gardens dotted with wooden pavilions, seven white towers and more columns and arches of silver glass than the rest of the city put together. Or so it at least felt, looking at it up close. Oak could admit to himself that he was a bit uncomfortable. This was very far from his usual locale.


    Climbing through the front door had felt a touch too brazen even for him, and so he had decided it would be best to enter from above and search for a convenient window at the back of the palace. Oak knew little about ballrooms, but he had figured that if the summer palace had one, it stood to reason it might be a big room indeed. And who wanted to have a ballroom without windows?


    Now that they were walking on the back wall of the palace, Oak could see there had been no reason to worry about gaining entry. There were large open windows everywhere. When they reached the base of the central tower, he chose one that led to a large side room next to the ballroom, and lowered himself inside. Geezer was not far behind.


    The palace was almost utterly silent. Almost. There was a faint drip of water somewhere below them, maybe close to the main entrance to the ballroom. With their eyes peeled for trouble and ears open for the tiniest sound that might disturb the stale air of the palace, Oak and Geezer climbed downwards.


    They passed through rooms in different states of chaos and disrepair. A painting room filled with stands and different brushes and pens. A tea room with pink walls, small cute tables and couches, and pillows that had surely been sinfully soft three hundred years prior, now all piled up on top of each other against the wall that had become a floor, when everything up here turned sideways.


    There was even a bathhouse with luxurious looking tubs and pools on the first floor of the palace, but sadly there was no water anywhere inside, which was a shame. Oak did not dare to sniff his own armpits, but he was surely in need of a bath. Or two.


    In no time at all, they were close to the source of dripping water. Drip, drop, drip, drop. The sound had only grown louder as they approached. Oak opened a door which led to the ballroom itself and looked down. It was only about a six-feet drop to the wall of the ballroom, so after making sure the coast was clear, he hopped down and Geezer followed.


    Right in front of the main entrance, sticking straight up from the white marble wall, was a large pillar of black stone. And imprisoned inside the stone so that only their head was sticking out into the open air, was the oldest elf Oak had ever seen. Not that he had seen many elves, but he had never even heard of an elf that looked old, and this one did.


    The only reason he was sure the man was an elf in the first place, despite his wrinkles, were the pointed ears framing his bald head.


    In front of the elf was a stone basin filled with water and the black stone covering his body curved over the basin, droplets of water dripping to the basin from the stone in a steady rhythm.


    Is the bastard even alive? Oak furrowed his brow as he stared at the unmoving face of the prisoner. Does he draw breath? Did I really climb all this way only to find a stiff corpse?


    ¡°Hello,¡± Oak said. ¡°Hello!¡±


    The elf was as still as a statue. He did not even twitch.


    Oak walked closer and shouted again. There was no response. He stepped up, leaning closer to get a better look at the imprisoned elf, and sniffed. It did not smell like rotting meat, but he was no expert on what dead elves were supposed to smell like.


    Slowly, and carefully, he poked the elf in the cheek. The skin felt like dry, cold parchment. The denizen of the stone did not wake.


    ¡°Damn it all.¡± Oak cursed. The elf was dead.


    He sat down on the wall, head in his hands. Everything he had discussed with Ashmedai had relied on the fact that the soul he was here to save was still alive. What was he supposed to do now? How was he ever going to find a way out of the City of God without a guide?


    Geezer stood up against the black stone pillar on two legs and sniffed the corpse.


    ¡°Let the dead elf be,¡± Oak said, and turned to shoo Geezer away. ¡°We should not disturb his rest further.¡±


    The hellhound licked the elf¡¯s nose, and the prisoner''s gray eyes opened wide in shock.


    ¡°Oh, sweet baby Samael!¡± Oak shouted, and scrambled back from the pillar.


    It seemed the elf was alive, after all. Geezer had earned an extra large dinner portion. The hellhound wagged his tail, clearly pleased with himself.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Well, this is certainly surprising. You are not one of my jailors,¡± the elf whispered. His voice was as dry as the desert wind, and the mere act of speaking seemed to cause him great pain. His lips were horribly chapped, and they bled as he talked, blood staining the needle sharp teeth in his mouth.


    By the Hells. I am glad that he is still alive and kicking, even if he looks like a desiccated cadaver.


    ¡°No, I am no one''s jailor,¡± Oak said. ¡°In fact, we are here to free you. My name is Oak and my four-legged companion is called Geezer. What is your name, so that I might address you properly?¡±


    Despite the pain it had to cause him, the elf smiled. He was so thin that for a second Oak feared the mere act of smiling might push his high cheekbones right through the wrinkled skin.


    ¡°Oak. Hmm. A savage of the Northlands, are you not? How delightful. I always found your kind a straightforward lot.¡±


    Oak raised an eyebrow and scoffed. ¡°Who are you to call me a savage, skeleton?¡±


    The elf giggled, but it sounded like he was coughing up a pile of sand. ¡°Where are my manners? You are, of course correct, I am in no position to offer insult. Apologies. I am Ur-Namma of the tribe of Shara, brother of Empress Aoibheann,¡± the elf said. ¡°The general of her armies.¡±


    Oak swallowed. ¡°Well met, Ur-Namma of the Tribe of Shara.¡±


    The elf nodded. ¡°Well met indeed. Now, what type of man sets out to save a soul whose name he does not know?¡±


    ¡°We are here to fulfill an oath,¡± Oak said. ¡°Ashmedai¡¯s oath to aid you in your hour of need, to be precise.¡±


    ¡°Huh. It certainly pays to have friends in low places,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°It is delightfully ironic that it would be Ashmedai of all demons who frees me from this stone.¡±


    ¡°Now that you mention it, I see the irony.¡± Oak shrugged. ¡°Maybe his own stint banished inside a rock made him sympathetic?¡±


    He stood up from the floor and examined the stone pillar for any weak points. There had to be some way to get Ur-Namma out of his prison.


    ¡°You mentioned jailors. How much time do you think we have before someone comes to check on you? And do you have any ideas about how we might get you out of that stone?¡± Oak asked, rubbing his beard as he wracked his brain for a solution. ¡°Ashmedai told me freeing you would be very easy, but now that I am here, it does not seem easy at all.¡±


    ¡°You need not worry, warrior of the North,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°My jailors are elves, though I would not call those traitors and fools my kin. Yam-Nahar gave the task of guarding me to Namtar, Dumuzi and Gestianna, and they were fairly dutiful for the first fifty years of my torment. After that, even the threat of the dragon''s wrath, should I somehow escape, could not keep them in their task.¡±


    ¡°Nowadays one of them comes to check on me rarely and it has been a couple of years since they last came. I have been a prisoner here for over three hundred years and we elves grow easily bored.¡±


    Ur-Namma had to pause as he coughed, clearly unused to talking.


    ¡°Elves?¡± Oak asked in surprise.


    ¡°Sadly yes. The one hundred traitors, now ensnared to Yam-Nahar¡¯s will,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°Just like my fool of a sister was.¡± Sorrow entered his gaze, and the elf looked away.


    ¡°As to how you might free me, that is indeed easy to do,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°What do you know about curses?¡±


    Oak frowned. ¡°Not much, I am no spellsinger.¡±


    ¡°Then we are in luck, since no magic is required. As a rule of thumb, the easier it is for someone else to break a curse afflicting a person, the harder it will be for the person afflicted to break the curse without aid,¡± Ur-Namma whispered, and coughed again, his wrinkled features twisting in pain.


    Oak truly felt for the elf, but he did not quite know how to express it, so he stayed quiet and let Ur-Namma gather himself.


    ¡°Yam-Nahar cursed me to languish inside this stone until someone gives me water from that basin in front of me,¡± Ur-Namma said. A feverish look of longing had now replaced the earlier sorrow in his eyes. ¡°Please, give me water. I have not drank or eaten in over three hundred years. And every single day my salvation has been right in front of me, but out of my reach.¡±


    Ur-Namma shuddered. ¡°Oh, how my jailors tortured and debased me at first. Promising to give me just a little water if I amused them. Sometimes I broke, even though I knew in my heart of hearts that they would never give me what I wanted. It was a relief when they grew bored with me.¡±


    Hearing the elf¡¯s plea, Oak stepped forward. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the basin. The water was pleasantly cool and impossibly clear. Using his hands as a container, Oak brought water to Ur-Namma¡¯s chapped lips and poured it into the elf¡¯s mouth.


    Ur-Namma shuddered in ecstasy and relief. Oak figured out he wanted more without asking, and brought him another mouthful. And another. With every sip of water Ur-Namma drank, more of him flowed free from the stone until the black stone pillar finally relinquished its hold on the elf. Ur-Namma collapsed on his knees, for his feet could not hold even the weight of his skeletal body.


    The elf was so thin every bone inside his body was showing through the skin. Filthy rags covered his skeletal form in patches, and the result left him looking so pitiful that being naked might have been an improvement.


    Oak lifted the elf on his shoulder like a bag of flour and started looking for a suitable resting place, since it looked like they might need to stay put for at least a short while so Ur-Namma could get his feet under him.


    Geezer seemed to find the events of the last few minutes strange, since the dog was looking back and forth between the black stone pillar and the elf, turning his head sideways like dogs were wont to do when they were confused.


    ¡°Thank you, Oak.¡± The elf wept and tried to unsuccessfully wipe his tears with arms that did not seem to remember how they were supposed to work. ¡°I will remember this, no matter what lies ahead.¡±


    A blush crept on Oak¡¯s cheeks, and he was glad the elf could not witness his discomfort. He had never been good at accepting thanks or praise. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, though I am truly glad me and Geezer could be of assistance. I doubt you could find many in all of Pairi-Daeza who would deserve your rotten fate.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Ur-Namma said, and his voice had a nasty edge to it. ¡°Some names do come to mind.¡±


    ¡°I think I can guess the first three,¡± Oak muttered, a grin slipping on his face.


    ¡°Oh, do you perhaps want a parade in your name for that spectacular piece of deduction?¡± Ur-Namma asked. ¡°Truly, I am being carried by a genius, a specimen whose intellect is only dwarfed by his untarnished honor and witty sense of humor.¡±


    ¡°I resent the implications of your tirade. By the way, did you know that sarcasm is widely considered the lowest form of wit these days?¡± Oak asked, grin widening. ¡°I thought an old-timer like yourself should know.¡±


    He opened a door to a room that had maybe once been a lady¡¯s dressing room and decided it was good enough for their purposes.


    ¡°My age is nothing but a tremendous accomplishment,¡± Ur-Namma hissed.


    Getting them all through the sideways door almost five feet off the ground was a bit of a challenge, but Oak managed it and, in short order, they were all inside the dressing room. He set Ur-Namma on the ground so he could take a candle or two and some food and water out of his rucksack.


    Geezer took the opportunity and licked Ur-Namma¡¯s face, utterly unbothered by the elf¡¯s feeble attempts to ward him off.


    ¡°Please return me inside the stone. I was happier there,¡± Ur-Namma whispered, but Oak could see he was trying very hard not to smile.

 Chapter 20

    Ur-Namma could not contain his pained laughter when Oak pulled out packages of hardtack and salted pork from his rucksack. He lit some candles with a small flame he summoned, and the elf said nothing of it, but observed him with a keen eye.


    ¡°Do you know how often I have eaten something like this on campaign?¡± Ur-Namma said in a hushed voice, nursing a bottle full of water and taking small bites out of a piece of hardtack. Blood ran down the elf¡¯s chin, for his chapped lips and dried out gums bled with every bite. ¡°It¡¯s fitting that my first meal in three hundred years should remind me of who I am.¡± His face fell. ¡°Or who I was.¡±


    Oak detached the longsword he had taken from the barracks from the side of his rucksack and handed it to the elf.


    ¡°If soldier fare brings you back to better days, this should remind your hands of their purpose,¡± he said.


    Ur-Namma set his meal down and accepted the blade with fumbling hands and an unreadable expression on his face. His long, shaking fingers wrapped around the hilt, and he pulled the sword partly out of its sheath.


    ¡°Where did you get this blade? And your other weapons, if I may ask?¡± Ur-Namma whispered.


    ¡°From a barracks nearby. They were much better than my own equipment, and I thought their former owners would not mind me putting them to good use,¡± Oak said. ¡°I thought you might want a weapon of your own, so I picked one for you as well, since traveling around Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah unarmed does not seem wise.¡±


    Ur-Namma nodded and squeezed the hilt with trembling fingers. He watched the failure of his flesh with a clinical eye, like a master evaluating an apprentice and finding them wanting.


    ¡°It was thoughtful of you,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°But let us hope our survival does not come to rest on me putting this blade to use. The weakness of my body speaks for itself.¡±


    The elf put the sword fully back into its sheath and placed it in arm''s reach, after which he went back to nibbling on hardtack.


    Even though their supper was meager, conversation flowed freely between Oak and Ur-Namma. The light of the candles painted shadows on the walls of the dressing room in such a way that when either of them shook in laughter, it almost looked like the walls were laughing with them.


    Only now that he had someone to talk to did Oak realize how much he had yearned for conversation. Being without someone to converse with was easy, when you could just walk down to town whenever you wanted to. When the option was taken away, he found being alone an altogether different, suffocating experience.


    His hunger for talk could only be surpassed by Ur-Namma¡¯s own. The elf asked question after question, wanting to know all that had happened in the outside world since Yam-Nahar sealed him away, and Oak answered to the best of his ability.


    ¡°Do you know what became of the elves who survived the fall of this city?¡±


    ¡°I imagine the survivors joined the rest of the elves and migrated to the western reaches of the continent, across the Whispering Sands,¡± Oak said. ¡°Though I do not know for sure.¡±


    ¡°What is the latest news from the city of Calambria, the Jewel of the South?¡±


    ¡°Calambria?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Never heard of it.¡±


    The elf sighed and mumbled something unintelligible, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Cities and kingdoms had fallen to ruin, and out of memory during his centuries long imprisonment. The world had changed.


    We are both strangers in a strange land, in our own ways. One by distance, the other by time.


    Geezer tried to take advantage of Ur-Namma¡¯s lapse in vigilance to steal a piece of hardtack from the ancient general¡¯s hand. Oak watched silently as the hellhound crawled closer and closer to the prize, snout twitching with excitement. The hounds'' attempt at stealth left a lot to be desired. Ur-Namma¡¯s eyes snapped open, and the elf hissed at Geezer, pointy teeth bared.


    Three hundred years of starvation could make even royalty act feral. Fast as lightning, Geezer escaped into Oak¡¯s lap, and glowered at the elf from a safe distance.


    ¡°None of that now,¡± Oak said, and stroked the hound¡¯s head. ¡°It¡¯s your own fault for trying to steal food from someone else¡¯s mouth.¡±


    Ur-Namma looked embarrassed by his own savage display, and nibbled on his piece of hardtack in silence, while Oak petted his dog. It did not take long for curiosity to rekindle the conversation.


    ¡°How about the angels and the demons?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°Creation is not in open war, but other than that, much the same,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Nothing new under the sun. Everyone jockeys for advantage. A soul gained is a soul lost.¡±


    ¡°What of the dwarves?¡± Ur-Namma asked. ¡°Have they been freed from their madness?¡±


    Oak shook his head and Ur-Namma¡¯s face fell.


    ¡°Azidahaka¡¯s final act has not been undone and I doubt anyone remains in all of Pairi-Daeza who could undo it,¡± Oak said. He had already eaten his fill and scratched Geezer absentmindedly, staring into the candle''s flame. ¡°I have always wondered how it really happened. The legends say you were there that day.¡±


    Ur-Namma gray eyes grew unfocused as he began his tale.


    ¡°I was there. It might have been better if I had not been, but who can tell if what I did was good or ill?¡± Ur-Namma shook his head, looking dejected and focused his gaze on Oak. ¡°Maybe you can tell me, when you have heard my tale?¡±


    Oak laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. ¡°That would be a first. I would not ask for my advice on good or ill, believe me.¡±


    Ur-Namma was about to wave him off, but stopped and cocked his head at him, almost like he now saw him in a new light. The elf¡¯s long, pale fingers tapped his chin rhythmically, or at least tried to. Tremors plagued his body, messing up the rhythm.


    ¡°I see your past haunts you, much like mine haunts me. But onto my tale,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°We had allied with the dwarves to slay the mightiest and cruelest of dragon kind. In all honesty, the dragons had already laid my people low, and the dwarves saved us. Many of the oldest among us had been slain by claw, spell, and dragon fire. The Elven tribes of the south fell and never recovered their former glory.¡±


    Ur-Namma¡¯s eyes reflected the flickering of the candle¡¯s flame. Two hot coals, boring down upon Oak¡¯s soul from across the room. So intense was Ur-Namma¡¯s gaze that his tale swept Oak along with him completely.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°When battle was joined in the Namerin mountains west of here, only me and my sister remained from those elves who had seen the first sunrise and heard the Mother¡¯s Song,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°We were a desperate lot, devoid of hope, unlike the dwarven clans who had constructed mighty instruments of war, and still held faith. The mightiest instrument of all was fielded by their greatest king, Taliriktug.¡±


    ¡°Seven times Azidahaka, the oldest and cruelest of all dragons, dove to strike at us, thunder in his claws and the winds of the world behind him, bearing a promise of ruin for all who dwelled under the skies. He was like a mountain in flight, a storm ready and eager to break the world. Seven times king Taliriktug played his silver harp and sang such notes that Azidahaka was repelled.¡±


    Oak listened with rapt attention, utterly enthralled. Even Geezer lay quiet and still, captured by the moment.


    ¡°When finally the dragon grew tired, Taliriktug¡¯s fingers danced on the harp and he thrice summoned chords that broke Azidahaka¡¯s wings and cast him down upon the mountainside. And so it was that as we fell upon the wounded beast with sword and spear, song on our lips and hope in our hearts, Azidahaka burned his own soul to cinder in a final act of spite,¡± Ur-Namma hissed. ¡°With his last breath, the first dragon set a curse upon all dwarves, and the beast''s body had not even grown cold by the time our allies were in the grips of madness.¡±


    ¡°As a reward for ridding the world of Azidahaka¡¯s shadow, Taliriktug received the mercy of my blade,¡± Ur-Namma said, tears in his eyes. ¡°I put him down when he ate his own daughter''s face. And so were all clans damned for the courage of the few to live lives of agony and sorrow. We killed many that day, though I know not the number of the dead.¡±


    A prayer spilled from Oak¡¯s lips, and he put his fist over his heart. ¡°By the Chariot, Ur-Namma.¡±


    ¡°By the grace of the Mother indeed.¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Now, how does history remember Ur-Namma of the Tribe of Shara?¡±


    It was a question for a scholar, and Oak was no such thing. He could only answer to the best of his limited knowledge. ¡°I cannot speak for other peoples, but in the North this legend is told as a warning of the spite of dragons, and as a lament for the dwarves,¡± he said. ¡°Not as an accusation laid at your feet.¡±


    History knew Ur-Namma as a ruthless conqueror, but Oak thought it best not to mention it, lest he ruffle any feathers. He still needed the elf, after all, and he did not know him well enough to say if he would be insulted or flattered by the notion.


    ¡°That at least warms my heart. Let us talk of something else, for I grow weary in my grief. Tell me about your home.¡±


    Oak obliged and launched into a tale of his childhood. When Oak had been young, his favorite pastime was running away from his chores so he could explore the forests and valleys around Spoke with the other boys. Those were happy days, before the death of his father and the war.


    ¡°One time, me and two other young lads called Catell and Ougein got into our heads to steal a chicken from the Cutter family down in the valley. Catell dared either of us to steal it from the coop, and I took up the dare,¡± Oak said. ¡°It was supposed to be a good bit of harmless fun, but the man of the house, Jon Cutter, returned just as I snatched the bird.


    ¡°We had to leg it so he didn¡¯t stick us with a pitchfork. The man was downright livid. Our escape took us across his fields into the forest, and in our haste, we did not pay as much attention to our surroundings as we should have. Ougein stumbled on a protruding root, and I ran right into him, still holding onto the chicken.¡±


    Oak took a sip of water and continued.


    ¡°The three of us, bird included, fell down in a heap. It did not end well for the chicken,¡± he said. ¡°The poor bastard got squished between us, and the fall broke its neck. So there I was, lying on the forest floor, covered in pine needles with a dead chicken in my hand.


    ¡°Suffice to say that tempers flared. Ougein blamed me for running into him. I blamed him for stumbling. And we both blamed Catell for the stupid idea of stealing a chicken.¡±


    ¡°When things go wrong, there is always enough blame to go around,¡± Ur-Namma muttered.


    Oak nodded his assent. ¡°Soon, we were all wrestling and rolling on the ground, trying to convince each other of the merits of our arguments,¡± he said. ¡°It continued for some time, but in the end, our lively debate ended inconclusively, and each of us headed home.¡±


    The more he talked, the more nostalgic Oak became. What I wouldn¡¯t give to go back and do things differently. But the wheel turns only one way.


    ¡°I sneaked into our homestead like a thief in the night, with messy hair and dirty clothes,¡± he said. ¡°There was no hiding it. My old man saw right through me. He knew instantly that I had done something stupid.¡±


    ¡°Did he give you the belt?¡± Ur-Namma chuckled.


    ¡°Nah, much worse. He was disappointed in me.¡± Oak replied. ¡°The next day I had to go back to the Cutters and apologize. Father made me bring two of our chickens with me. One to replace the one I had stolen, and the second as recompense for the trouble I had caused.


    ¡°I can hear him say it like it was yesterday: ¡®When you wrong a man without cause, pay him back twice over. Make him thank his lucky stars it was you who did him harm.¡¯¡±


    Father was always crafty like that. He had a way with words like no other.


    The fire was fading. Oak stared at the dwindling flame, lost in thought. Geezer poked him in the cheek with his snout and Oak gave a start. He had not noticed the passage of time. Even after ten years, the death of his old man was like an open wound. One he could not help but pick at.


    ¡°Surprisingly peaceful, for a northerner''s tale,¡± Ur-Namma commented. ¡°A learning experience, yes?¡±


    ¡°Ay, I felt we had enough talk of war. I will leave tales of battles and raids to another time,¡± Oak replied. ¡°They are not cheerful stories, nor do they paint me in the best light.¡±


    ¡°I thank you for lifting my spirits. And I offer a piece of advice, though you asked none,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°Do not judge yourself too harshly. If I have learned something during my long life, it is that war brings the worst aspects of us to the fore. I have returned victorious from battle and ridden the main road of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah in triumph countless times. Never has my conscience been clean or my mind, without doubt.¡±


    The elf had a strange look on his face, half disgusted, half longing.


    ¡°You know what never changed?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°What?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°The more doubt I felt and the heavier my conscience, the louder and more feverish were the cheers of the masses,¡± Ur-Namma declared. ¡°People will love and cherish a monster if it is their monster. Sometimes I wondered if their chants of adulation would have broken open the Heavens themselves if I had walked down the street covered in the blood of my enemies, a procession of heads on pikes leading the way.¡±


    ¡°Better the devil you know,¡± Oak said quietly. ¡°Even better if it''s a devil that fights your battles for you.¡±


    ¡°People and elves especially are not fond of change, that is true,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°And everyone loves a winner.¡±


    They stayed silent for a moment, both miles away in their own thoughts. Geezer laid down on his side and in no time at all, the hellhound was snorting in his sleep, front legs twitching as he chased something in his dreams. Oak looked at the dog fondly and thought of tomorrow. They would need to leave this place and make their way out of the city.


    Eventually Oak curiosity got the best of him and he asked: ¡°Can you truly find a way out of this place?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± Ur-Namma licked his bloody lips, eyes turned at the ceiling. ¡°But I must ask, how did you make it here in the first place if you don¡¯t trust yourself to find a way out?¡±


    ¡°My arrival into the city is not easily replicated, and it was sadly a one-way trip,¡± Oak replied. ¡°It might be best to give you the short version of how I ended up here, so you understand the situation.¡±


    ¡°I would appreciate that,¡± Ur-Namma said and settled down to listen once more.


    Oak told the elf everything that had transpired since his and Geezer¡¯s sudden arrival to Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. When Oak finished his story, Ur-Namma asked him to repeat Ashmedai¡¯s words once more and Oak did so.


    ¡°How would you like to help me fulfill an oath by saving a tortured soul from centuries of torment so you can escape Ma''aseh Merkavah together? After that, you can begin the long and arduous journey to save the continent from a dragon¡¯s folly,¡± Oak said, reciting Ashmedai¡¯s offer from memory.


    ¡°A dragon¡¯s folly,¡± Ur-Namma whispered, and once again, his gaze was far away. Oak did not know how he could tell, but the elf was coming to a decision.


    ¡°I have been thinking since you freed me. I can find a way out of this place, as Ashmedai predicted.¡± Ur-Namma glanced towards Oak, and his long fingers clenched the grip of his longsword. ¡°I can only guess the demon''s full purpose, but one thing is clear to me. He intends for us to face Yam-Nahar, and that means we cannot leave Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah just yet.¡±

 Chapter 21

    ¡°We cannot leave Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah just yet.¡±


    I fucking knew it. Being in close proximity to a crown for long periods of time rots the brain.


    Oak could not believe what he was hearing and was about to protest, when Ur-Namma lifted a stick thin, shaking hand and spoke: ¡°I know your heart warns against dallying in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah but hear me out first. You have been a Warlock for about a week, correct?¡±


    Oak nodded. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s about right.¡±


    ¡°Let us look at what we are working with, then. I was mighty at my full strength, but my long imprisonment has left my body broken and my soul brittle. It will take a long time for me to recover,¡± Ur-Namma said, looking at his own skeletal hand. ¡°You, on the other hand, are a Warlock, but a very new and inexperienced one. Every elf under Yam-Nahar¡¯s thrall could kill us both in a blink of an eye. We need time that we do not have.


    ¡°Eventually my escape will be noticed and my jailors will do something, either because their master¡¯s orders demand it or for no other reason than to save their own pathetic hides from the dragon¡¯s fury. Even worse, one day in the not so distant future, Yam-Nahar will wake from his slumber and no one can tell how he will react to my escape. All of this might take years, but years alone are not enough to bridge the gap between us and the dragon.¡±


    ¡°Ashmedai is no fool,¡± Oak replied. ¡°He thinks we have a chance, and I believe him.¡±


    ¡°I did not say our task is hopeless, nor will I give up in the face of a challenge. Believe me, I have dreamed of revenge for three hundred years,¡± Ur-Namma said, eyes blazing with barely controlled wrath. ¡°We need something that can give us an edge and I have something in mind.


    ¡°My sister Aoibheann had no equal in the use of magic among the tribes. It was no coincidence that out of all Elven mages, Yam-Nahar approached her to help him call Mother¡¯s flesh to creation. The dragon and his minions have surely picked her palaces and places of study clean by now, but she had a secret vault in the imperial library and as far as I know, Yam-Nahar never learned of it.¡±


    ¡°That could be useful or it might not help in the slightest, depending on what is inside,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Why are you so certain it would be wise to risk life and limb to set out and retrieve the vault¡¯s contents?¡±


    ¡°My sister liked to collect rituals. So, there is a small vault in the imperial library, filled with rituals collected by the greatest Elven mage to ever live. And I know the password,¡± Ur-Namma said with vicious glee.


    Oak smiled. Things were finally looking up.


    ***


    Come morning, Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma broke their fast and got ready to leave the palace behind them. Since Ur-Namma moved with the pace of a snail and could not climb anything higher than a doorstep without help, Oak left him in Geezer¡¯s care, and went searching through the palace for a set of clothes for the elf.


    He eventually located the servants'' quarters and found a set of brown robes and a pair of sandals inside a broken cabinet.


    I really need to know how someone made clothes and footwear that have not degraded to scraps after sitting in the dark for three hundred years, Oak thought as he marveled at his findings. The cobbler¡¯s and seamstresses back home would kill me for the knowledge and then kill me again when people would not need new clothes or shoes nearly as often as before.


    Since Oak had no desire to lose his life or destroy the livelihoods of tradesmen and women, he let the matter rest. Some stones were better left unturned.


    Ur-Namma was delighted with Oaks¡¯ findings and eagerly changed clothes with his help. Food, water and a good night¡¯s rest had done wonders for the elf¡¯s disposition and constitution, but he was still as weak as a kitten and could not walk unaided.


    Despite his physical condition, Ur-Namma attached the longsword to his belt and would not hear it when Oak offered to carry it for him. ¡°Will the sword be lighter tomorrow if I give it to you now? No? I thought so,¡± Ur-Namma said, and gritted his needle-sharp teeth together as the weight of the weapon settled on his hip.


    Oak let the matter drop, since arguing with the ancient elf was an exercise in futility. He packed his rucksack and checked his own weapons before he carried Ur-Namma back to the palaces¡¯ ballroom. Soon their merry company stood once again in front of the black stone pillar that had been Ur-Namma¡¯s prison for centuries.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Ur-Namma said, when Oak was about to walk past the pillar. ¡°Set me down next to the pillar. There is one thing I must do before we leave.¡±


    ¡°What are you up to?¡± Oak asked as he lowered the elf on the ground next to the pillar. ¡°Wanting to say goodbye to your former accommodations before we depart?¡±


    ¡°I would spit on your boots if it wouldn¡¯t be a waste of good moisture,¡± Ur-Namma warned. ¡°No, I am going to cast a spell. Do you have anything small but durable, maybe a coin?¡±


    ¡°I did not know you knew magic,¡± Oak said, as he checked his jacket pockets for anything useful. He found a coin and handed it to Ur-Namma.


    Ur-Namma held the coin in his shaking left hand and pressed his right hand against the cool stone surface.


    ¡°I¡¯m no magical savant. I mostly focused on martial pursuits, but I have dabbled in the art. That is the advantage of a lifespan measured in millennia,¡± the elf said and closed his eyes, face twitching as he focused.


    Oak shuffled around while nothing happened. ¡°Is it working, or are you having performance anxiety? I could go to another room, if you like?¡± he offered with a grin on his face.


    Ur-Namma opened his left eye and glared at Oak. ¡°How is it possible that of the two of you, the hellhound is more well behaved?¡±


    Geezer sat down next to the elf and looked very proud of himself. He panted happily, tongue lolling out of his mouth. The dog was a sucker for compliments.


    ¡°I am constructing the flimsiest string of magic I can produce and tying that string to a spell around this coin. When the string breaks, so will the coin,¡± Ur-Namma explained. ¡°This way we will know when Namtar, Dumuzi and Gestianna figure out I have escaped, since even a cursory examination of the pillar will instantly shatter the string.¡±


    Oak let out a whistle. ¡°Smart.¡±


    ¡°If I was incapable of impressing a northern savage like you, I would jump down the slope to my death the first chance I got,¡± Ur-Namma grumbled and went back to casting.


    ¡°Nice to know you hold me in such high esteem,¡± Oak said and bowed at the waist. ¡°I will await your continued attempts to keep me awed.¡±


    Ur-Namma shook his head in disgust.


    Finally, after a considerable amount of face crunching and muttering, Ur-Namma finished his spell. A small hole formed in the center of the coin. The elf threaded a twine through it, tied the ends together, and placed the coin around his neck. He saw Oak looking at him and defended himself: ¡°You try not casting anything for centuries and see how well your first attempt goes. I am a bit out of practice.¡±


    ¡°I am sure you are grandpa,¡± Oak said and picked Ur-Namma up, while the elf called him names and insulted his ancestry in response.


    They decided to leave through the front door of the palace and climb back down through the gardens. The dead trees and wooden palisades would serve as good resting places as they climbed down towards the edge of the palace grounds.Stolen novel; please report.


    When Ur-Namma laid eyes on Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah and saw the city spreading out below and above him, he cried out quietly.


    ¡°Oh, how it hurts to see the jewel of the Empire mutilated so. All of it, every life, every great work and achievement, lost to the megalomania of my sister and the malevolence of Yam-Nahar.¡± Ur -Namma blanched. ¡°And a testament to my failures.¡±


    Then he fell quiet and Oak could not get a word out of him, as the old elf stared at the madhouse they would be descending into with un-blinking eyes.


    Oak had made a harness for Ur-Namma out of old curtains and he wrapped it tightly around the skeletal elf. This finally roused the elf from his thoughts.


    ¡°Remind me, how many times did you almost fall to your death while climbing up here?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°For all our sakes, let''s not start reminiscing,¡± Oak said.


    He attached the other end of the harness to himself and got ready to start the journey down the slope. In short order, he had a dog and an elf hanging under him as he slowly made his way downwards through the dead garden. It was slow going, but the trees were evenly placed, and they held the weight without complaint.


    Once Oak got them out of the palace grounds, they began moving from building to building. Since he could lower Geezer and Ur-Namma one by one from room to room inside the houses and apartments, their progress downwards was fairly safe, but much slower than climbing up or down a street like he had done when it had been just him and Geezer.


    Oak was stretching his enhanced hearing to the maximum, and paid close attention to every returning echo sent out by their little group, but he heard and saw nothing. No spider disturbed them and no centipede showed its wriggling little legs. Geezer was alert as well, turning his head this way and that. The hellhound had taken a liking to Ur-Namma and clearly realized the elf¡¯s weak physical condition.


    They stopped to eat and drink at the same temple of the Seraphim Oak and Geezer had used as a resting place on their way up. Ur-Namma ate mechanically, staring glumly at the mural painting depicting the Night of Fratricide and the death of the Morningstar.


    Geezer had set himself between Ur-Namma and the nearest door. The hellhound chewed on a piece of corned beef, and stared at the open doorway, ready to spring into action if the need arose.


    It was very cute.


    ¡°So, how are we going to get close to the Imperial Library?¡± Oak asked between bites of hardtack. ¡°It¡¯s near the center of the city and no doubt the streets over there are filled to the brim with all kinds of monsters. We might even run into one of those elves if we are truly unlucky. Or a leshen might eat us. When it comes to gruesome deaths, we are spoiled for choice, each option more horrifying than the last.¡±


    Ur-Namma nodded. ¡°It is as you say. Yam-Nahar must keep some forces close to the ziggurat to guard him in his sleep, which makes approaching above ground undoubtedly a fool''s errand. I would only take us through there if we had no other option.¡±


    ¡°Any ideas? Oak asked. ¡°Since this is your home turf, I am trusting you to have a plan.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ur-Namma responded.


    Oak grunted. ¡°Are you going to share those ideas with me anytime soon or are you going to keep sulking?¡±


    Ur-Namma sighed and looked away. ¡°I am sorry. My conduct is unbecoming of a member of the tribe of Shara. We will use the sewers.¡±


    Oak felt a bad feeling crawling up his spine. ¡°The sewers, you say?¡±


    Ur-Namma waved away Oak¡¯s concerns with a shaky hand that did not fill Oak with confidence. ¡°There is no need to worry. The imperial sewer system is a magnificent feat of engineering, and I ordered it built with ongoing repairs in mind. There are walkways inside the sewer system, so we won''t have to wade through centuries old muck.


    ¡°I am much more worried about the things living in the muck,¡± Oak muttered.


    ***


    ¡°Something is following us,¡± Oak whispered. They had made their way down the slope to flat ground without incident, but shortly afterwards, their luck had run out in the fog. ¡°I hear footsteps behind us.¡±


    Ur-Namma was leaning against Oak, hand on his shoulder as they walked forward. The City of God felt less hostile, with Ur-Namma by his side. The elf stumbled and struggled, but his feet never snagged on a protruding cobble nor did a loose rock trip him. Even after three hundred years of malice and hate, the city remembered one of its founders and eased his way.


    Geezer was circling anxiously, taking point and then dropping behind to watch their back.


    ¡°We continue forward. If it keeps coming, we either race towards the entrance to the sewers and hope it does not follow us inside or we choose a location and face it,¡± Ur-Namma said, gritting his teeth with effort, snarling with every laborious footstep.


    Oak felt cold sweat running down his back. ¡°Fuck me. I don¡¯t think we are going to race anywhere.¡±


    Ur-Namma panted for breath, the weak grip of his hand barely holding onto Oak.¡°You might be right,¡± he said. ¡°There is a cathedral up ahead. Get us inside. There will be room for you to maneuver and the sound of the fight won¡¯t travel so far if the battle takes place inside thick stone walls.¡±


    Nothing for it. Like the old man used to say, if a task is unpleasant, waiting won¡¯t make it any better.


    He grunted and picked up the pace, snatching Ur-Namma on top of his shoulder and carrying the elf through the cobblestone streets. The sound of footsteps behind them continued, but it was too far away for the Ears of Amdusias to show him anything.


    As quickly and silently as he could, Oak ran along the fog-covered streets, towards the towers of the cathedral ahead. Geezer followed right behind them like a shadow, red eyes gleaming in the dark.


    The street opened into a square, and Oak ran right through the middle of it at the large black doors of the cathedral, throwing caution to the wind. It was an imposing building with lofty towers and sharp angles all over. He opened the double doors and stepped inside.


    ¡°Leave the door open, we want it to follow us,¡± Ur-Namma whispered from his shoulder.


    Oak did not argue and left the open door as it was. He walked up a small set of stairs to the entrance hall and through a short hallway into the main hall of the cathedral. It was a staggeringly beautiful place of worship, but Oak had no time to appreciate the columns, frescos and intricate decorations. He stomped down the main aisle and brought Ur-Namma right at the altar, where he plopped the elf down and set down his rucksack.


    ¡°You look after those supplies,¡± Oak said and turned towards the entrance, drawing his falchion.


    Geezer sat down in front of Ur-Namma, looking worriedly in the same direction.


    Waiting for something bad to happen was a skill Oak had honed during the war, so he did not fidget or pace around, even though he really wanted to. I¡¯m still breathing, he thought, trying to calm his frayed nerves. Still breathing. Sweat gathered in his palms and he wiped it on his trousers.


    The footsteps were getting closer now. It felt like the shadows of the cathedral were deepening and closing in on Oak, trapping him to a waking nightmare.


    ¡°I hate feeling like I¡¯m being hunted,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Cavalry?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°Oh yeah. Our side lost a battle. We lost thrice as many men while we ran away as we did in the battle itself, riders with lances hot on our heels,¡± Oak answered.


    Ur-Namma nodded, eyes unblinking, staring at the entrance to the cathedral. ¡°Only has to happen once for it to leave an impression. Am I right?¡±


    Oak laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. Amusement and anxiety warred for dominance inside him. He wanted to laugh freely, but felt trapped by the iron grip of the past. ¡°I pity every sorry bastard who has gone through it more than once.¡± He shook himself. ¡°I would give my firstborn for a tankard of ale right about now.¡±


    Ur-Namma lifted an eyebrow. ¡°I was under the impression you had no children?¡±


    ¡°I could always father one just to get that tankard,¡± Oak muttered.


    The sound of something hard slapping the cobblestones with a steady, unyielding beat reached the steps of the cathedral and someone entered, closing the doors behind it shut with a bang. The sound echoed through the cathedral and it had a sense of finality to it.


    With an unhurried gait, a large figure wearing the black robes of a priest stepped inside the main hall of the cathedral. Even hunched over, their hunter was almost as tall as Oak, and the figure had an impressive executioner¡¯s axe on their shoulder. Two blue balls of fire stared at Oak from the bare eye sockets of a skeletal face, locked in a rictus grin.


    ¡°Ur-Namma, what is that thing?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Hmm. Some type of revenant, If I am not mistaken,¡± Ur-Namma said, looking at the figure with a curious expression on his face. ¡°Nice to see there is someone in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah who resembles a skeleton even more than I do.¡±


    The revenant lowered their hood, revealing a gleaming white skull and pointed at Oak with a finger that had been stripped of flesh. ¡°Slave of the demon. Can you hear it? The bell tolls for thee.¡± Its voice was like the rasping gurgle of a dying man¡¯s last breath.


    Oak hid a shiver and answered: ¡°Ain¡¯t no bells tolling here, corpse. Go back to your rest.¡±


    The revenant shook its head. ¡°My mausoleum can wait until my fingers grasp thine bleeding heart. I will make a gift of it to the Seraphim, heretic.¡± The walking corpse stalked forward, axe loosely held at its side.


    ¡°Oh, fuck me,¡± Oak said.

 Chapter 22

    Ur-Namma of the tribe of Shara was used to pain. Nonetheless, his current condition was vexing to say the least. Just sitting down atop the altar hurt because all that was left of him was skin and bone.


    I never realized the true importance of ass cheeks before I tried to sit down without them, Ur-Namma thought. Or what an agony walking could be, when all the fat has been stripped from the bottom of your feet. No matter. This pain is a gift and I accept it gladly. Every moment of suffering is a step towards retribution.


    He gathered all of his pain, every signal from creaking joints and shaking limbs, and put it all inside a little box at the back of his mind. Distractions could not be allowed when so much was hanging in the balance.


    The revenant was walking towards Oak, axe ready to rend him in two. Geezer growled and stood up, but Ur-Namma raised his hand and said, ¡°Hold your horses, hound. This is not an enemy you can face. Sometimes a wise warrior chooses not to fight.¡±


    Geezer looked conflicted, but sat back down and stayed put.


    ¡°I could be convinced not to fight, if it interests anyone, that is,¡± Oak said, eyes flipping between the revenant''s feet and the executioner¡¯s axe.


    ¡°Silence your bleating, thrall of the apostate,¡± said the revenant. ¡°Die with the scraps of your dignity still intact.¡±


    ¡°Dignity is a luxury of foolish men. I would much rather just live and go about my day, but it seems we have an insurmountable religious conflict to solve before that can happen,¡± Oak replied. ¡°If you could be so kind and stand still while I hack you to pieces, I would appreciate it.¡±


    The revenant did not seem to be in the mood for a debate. It surged forth, stance low and axe swinging sideways to slice Oak in half, and the fight was on.


    Oak dodged back at the last second and took another step back to dodge the backswing, which whistled right past his nose. They circled each other warily, both looking for an opening. Oak took the initiative this time and tried to take the revenant''s head with his falchion, but struck only empty air.


    Ur-Namma watched with a keen eye as the combatants exchanged blows. ¡°Oak dear, you are almost as graceful as an elven babe,¡± he said. ¡°We will have to work on your swordsmanship.¡±


    ¡°Ur-Namma, could you crawl behind that altar and shut the fuck up? Out of sight, out of mind, if you know what I mean!¡± Oak shouted as he blocked an axe swing.


    Ur-Namma shook his head and let out a disappointed sigh. ¡°Hush now, infant, I am evaluating your footwork.¡±


    Snarling, Oak pressed forward, forcing the revenant back with the brutal chops of his sword, always moving and changing angles.


    And there it is. Such ferocity and a hint of something more.


    There was a duality to the man that fascinated Ur-Namma to no end. When Oak had told him of his journey through Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, something had stood out to him. Every time an adversary presented itself, Oak was reluctant to fight. If at all possible, he ran away at first. But when blood started flowing and there was no turning back, Oak fought like a madman, laughing in the face of death.


    Ur-Namma had seen a shadow of joy on his face even when he told of his battles, tasted the ecstasy second hand.


    Oak slapped the revenant''s axe aside with his blade and cast a burst of flames, setting the undead monster¡¯s robes on fire. The revenant seemed unbothered, even as bone blackened and his clothes burned.


    ¡°I am beyond your parlor tricks, Warlock,¡± the revenant said and charged forward. Oak got his sword up just in time, but the monstrous strength behind the undead¡¯s axe swing still sent him flying against a nearby column.


    The man crashed against the stone and scrambled back on his feet, quickly getting the column between himself and the revenant.


    ¡°Right,¡± Oak said, and spat a bloody glob of spit on the floor of the cathedral. There was a shine in his eyes now and a grin was worming onto his face.


    It almost looked like something was just beneath the surface of his skin, waiting to break through.


    The revenant stared at Oak, robes still aflame, and there was a hint of surprise in its posture. ¡°What is this? What sorcery are you wielding, defiler?¡± the revenant said and pointed an accusatory finger at Oak.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Oak gave no answer. He just smiled and panted, lungs working like bellows as he licked his lips, looking at the undead monster like a starving wolf looks at a fresh kill.


    Grabbing the reins of the fight once more, Oak strode past the column and started pressuring the revenant. Every swing of his blade sought to slice the undead in two and the revenant was struggling to defend itself against the onslaught of steel headed its way.


    After a particularly fast combination of cuts made the revenant stumble back, axe blade blurring back and forth to keep all of its limbs attached to its body, Oak seized the opportunity and pounced after the revenant, giggling like a maniac.


    Such potential. The most important thing a warrior can have is an understanding of distance. He knows when he can hurt another and when he is himself safe from harm. And most of all, he knows when to pick his moment, Ur-Namma thought as he watched it all unfold with bated breath. I wonder, does the savage know he is laughing?


    The northerner moved without hesitation. Oak fainted a strike at the revenant from above and instead of following through with it when the undead raised its weapon to block, he closed the distance and took hold of the revenant''s axe handle, pulling it out of the way of his falchion. Surprised and out of balance, the revenant¡¯s skeletal hand snapped forth to stop the blade.


    Ur-Namma laughed. He could not help it, even though it hurt. I missed this. The moment before the end, when the enemy does not yet know that the contest of arms has already been decided.


    The revenant¡¯s hand stopped the descending falchion with a snap, fingers curled around the steel as it sank deep into the bone. It was all for naught, because Oak had already let go of the blade. With a continuous, smooth movement, he pulled his cleaver from its sheath and buried it in the revenant''s skull.


    ¡°Oh,¡± the revenant said, and collapsed. The light in its eyes went out and what had been undead was now just a corpse.


    Face twisted in a grimace, Oak stood over his fallen foe and snarled. A moment passed, and he shook himself like a wet dog. Darkness receded from his expression, and he reached down and snatched the cleaver free from the revenant¡¯s skull. Then he proceeded to hack the pile of bones into pieces.


    Ur-Namma could not hold his tongue. ¡°What are you doing, human?¡± he asked as he watched the cleaver rise and fall.


    Oak glanced at Ur-Namma. ¡°When you set out to do something, do it properly,¡± he said, and continued chopping.


    Ur-Namma chuckled. ¡°I think our partnership was born under a lucky star,¡± he said. ¡°Because I actually understand where you are coming from, and I bet that is not a common occurrence.¡±


    ¡°No, I have to admit it ain¡¯t. But considering who we have to thank for running into each other, I would say the star was damned, not lucky,¡± Oak said. He took a step back and lit the pile of bone fragments and smoldering robes on fire with a concentrated stream of flame.


    ¡°Hmm, you have a point there, friend,¡± Ur-Namma conceded.


    If given time, will hone this northern savage into a warrior worthy of the tribe of Shara, and we will paint such scenes together that they will whisper of our deeds for generations. It is decided. Blood and offal shall be our sacrament.


    Ur-Namma stared into the flames rising from the burning revenant and lifted his gaze, following the smoke as it disappeared into the darkness of the cathedral. Before this is over, I will sink my teeth into dragon flesh and eat my fill. He closed his eyes and imagined the warm, rich blood coating his tongue.


    He shuddered and sighed with longing.


    ¡°Are you done moaning?¡± Oak asked. ¡°I don¡¯t want to linger here.¡±


    ¡°I WAS NOT MOANING!¡± Ur-Namma howled.


    ***


    They left through the back of the cathedral, where a small door opened into the street.


    Oak checked the coast was clear and no creepy crawlies were waiting for them in the shadows. When he found nothing skulking in the darkness, he went back inside and gave Ur-Namma a shoulder to lean on so the elf could walk for a bit and train his shriveled legs.


    It is pretty impressive to see this geriatric elf force himself forward. I am getting properly inspired here, he thought, without a hint of derision. There was something unyielding about Ur-Namma. The elf was like an iron rod that would break before it would bend even a single inch.


    Neither Oak nor Ur-Namma were willing to chat, while danger lurked behind every window and doorway. Only the sounds of Oak¡¯s steady steps, Ur-Namma¡¯s shuffling gait and the almost silent tip tap of Geezer¡¯s paws broke the quiet of the City of God, as their company of three left the cathedral behind and vanished into the mists haunting the gloom of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    After a bit of walking Oak, Ur-Namma and Geezer reached an intersection. Oak was about to cross the road and continue towards the sewer entrance, which was just down the road if Ur-Namma¡¯s memory could be trusted, when he saw a maple tree from the corner of his right eye and turned towards it.


    The street on their right transitioned seamlessly into a maple grove filled with sunlight and dripping water.


    ¡°What in the Hells is that?¡± Ur-Namma asked, gasping for breath. No matter how unyielding the elf was, walking was still a major undertaking for his skeletal frame.


    ¡°That, my friend, is an opportunity of the infernal kind,¡± Oak said and led Ur-Namma and Geezer towards the grove. ¡°Do you mind if we make a minor detour before we head into the sewers?¡±


    ¡°I guess not. I will eat while you attempt to commune with Ashmedai,¡± Ur-Namma said, wincing with every step. ¡°Might be a good time to take a small rest, anyway. If you reach the demon, give him my regards, would you?¡±


    ¡°I will be sure to do just that,¡± Oak said, and the three of them walked into the gentle glow of the summer sun.

 Chapter 23

    The slightly wet, warm and unnaturally green grass was so soft that Oak was out the moment he laid down upon it. Sleep carried him away from the malice of the City of God.


    After a time, Oak found himself kneeling in a grand hall made of giant skulls wearing broken crowns on their heads. The sound of clapping stopped his wide-eyed ogling, and he turned towards the noise.


    ¡°Bravo my boy, bravo indeed,¡± said Ashmedai. The demon was in the familiar shape of a tall, handsome man with the leg of a rooster. He was smoking his pipe on top of a melted throne in the center of the hall.


    ¡°Ashmedai,¡± Oak said, and stood up. ¡°I figured it might be worth a try to contact you. I know our time is likely short, so I will get straight to it, unless you have objections?¡±


    ¡°Nothing of the sort. I am quite pleased with your progress. If I thought having this conversation would have been more dangerous than not having it, then we would not be speaking,¡± Ashmedai replied, and took a drag from his pipe. The contents of the pipe glowed, and the demon breathed out a string of smoke from the side of his mouth. ¡°Finding another grove was a pleasant stroke of luck on your part. Do go on.¡±


    ¡°I have added quite a bit of fuel inside my infernal engine since we last spoke. Centipedes by the dozen, the ogre, multiple ghouls, the spiders and finally the revenant,¡± Oak said, and cleared his throat. ¡°We will head into the darkness of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah¡¯s underbelly, and I would like to pluck a critical weakness before we do so.¡±


    ¡°Understandable. And yes, that should be a sufficient quantity of souls to add another boon, of course, depending on what you want to pick,¡± Ashmedai replied. ¡°Not all powers are alike, after all.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t see in the dark,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Yes, now that you mention it, that seems like a slight issue if you are heading underground, beyond the dim light suffusing the city,¡± Ashmedai said.


    ¡°I thought so. The Ears of Amdusias have been very useful but I don¡¯t want to rely on them as the only way to see my surroundings, especially if I have to fight. Can I afford a power that lets me see in the dark?¡± Oak asked.


    Ashmedai tapped his knee in thought. ¡°There are some esoteric options, but I think simple is the best choice here.¡±


    The demon snapped his fingers, and a branch materialized in the air between them.


    ¡°The Branch of Ipos offers many options related to the gathering of information, and darkvision happens to be one of them. Not very demanding, soul wise, so you will be left with some savings for the next boon,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°Your eyes won¡¯t pierce any magical darkness, but regular absence of light should not cause you any trouble. Is this acceptable?¡±


    Oak nodded. ¡°More than acceptable,¡± he said and was about to ask for Ashmedai to graft the branch and grant him the boon, when he remembered his promise. ¡°By the way, Ur-Namma sends his thanks.¡±


    Ashmedai looked delighted. ¡°Tell that ancient codger there is no need to thank me, though the intent is well received all the same. I have my share of self interest riding on this venture after all,¡± the demon said. ¡°Now, is there anything else? We need to cut this short before someone notices our little chat.¡±


    Oak shook his head.


    ¡°In that case, good luck, Warlock,¡± Ashmedai said and snapped his fingers.


    The grand hall made of giant skulls vanished from Oak¡¯s sight and in short order he found himself back at the grove, Geezer¡¯s snout an inch from his face.


    Status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Infernal engine


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Souls: 46</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Fuel: 4</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branches


    </td>


    <td>


    Boons


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Flauros


    </td>


    <td>


    Pyromancy: grants an intuitive understanding of fire and the basic ability to summon it.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Amdusias


    </td>


    <td>


    Ears of Amdusias: grants sharp hearing and the basic ability to see one''s environment through sound.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Buer


    </td>


    <td>


    Demonic Constitution: grants slightly faster healing from injury, lessens fatigue and increases the rate of recovery from physical activity.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Ipos


    </td>


    <td>


    Darkvision: grants the ability to see even in complete darkness.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Theurgy


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ghosts: 6</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Wards


    </td>


    <td>


    Ghosts attached: 1


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Trauma weapons


    </td>


    <td>


    Kaarina¡¯s Horror


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Thought-plagues


    </td>


    <td>


    Kushim¡¯s Bewilderment


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Scouts


    </td>


    <td>


    Raven


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Miscellaneous ghosts


    </td>


    <td>


    Sparrow


    Cat


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Splendid. Still four units of fuel left over.


    ¡°Had a good talk?¡± Ur-Namma asked, mouth full of hardtack. The elf was leaning against the base of a tree and, for the first time since Oak had released him from his stone prison, Ur-Namma looked comfortable.


    ¡°Very pleasant,¡± Oak responded and gave Geezer a good scratch. ¡°I even remembered to deliver your thanks to him. They were well received. And I can see in the dark now, which should prove helpful in the sewers.¡±


    ¡°Good. I am glad my protector won¡¯t need to stumble around in the dark, and that the niceties have been observed. It never hurts to be polite when dealing with demons,¡± Ur-Namma said and washed the hardtack down with a gulp of water. ¡°We can leave whenever you are ready.¡±


    Oak stood up and started walking deeper into the maple grove. ¡°I hear you. I will use this opportunity to take a piss in relative safety, and then we can leave. Don¡¯t go anywhere.¡±


    Ur-Namma snorted. ¡°There¡¯s one instruction I won¡¯t have any trouble following for some time,¡± the elf said, and poked his own spindly legs.


    ***


    Oak stared at the sewer entrance with trepidation. Now that he knew he had to climb inside, the circular hole looked like a maw of some great beast slumbering under the city.


    ¡°Are you sure this is really necessary?¡± he asked.


    ¡°We have been over this already. Unless you want to try your luck with whatever horrors roam in the center of the city, this is our only way of getting inside the imperial library,¡± Ur-Namma answered.


    ¡°I am willing to bet that if we approach above ground, leshen will be the least of our problems.¡±


    Even though the elf was steadfast in his commitment to their plan, Oak could tell there was a certain tightness in the way he set his shoulders. It seemed neither of them enjoyed the idea of adventuring through the sewer system.


    ¡°Nothing for it,¡± Oak said and climbed down the ladder.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Not a single monster jumped at his face or charged at him from the darkness, which was a pleasant surprise. He had been prepared for the worst. The entire sewer was made of brick and concrete. There was a relatively well-kept walkway next to the part in the middle where sewage had flown when Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah had still been the greatest city in the world, and there had been sewage to manage.


    The fact he could see all of that clearly was wild. Up there, on the streets, his gaze now pierced even the darkest shadows like they weren¡¯t even there. Down here in the sewer, he still saw just fine, but all color had been drained from the world. Only different shades of black and white remained.


    It was magnificent. To think that every grafted under the sun walked around like this. No wonder most of them were full of themselves.


    ¡°You know what? It does not even smell that bad anymore. Let me get back up there and I will lower you two down,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    Getting both Geezer and Ur-Namma down into the sewer took a bit of elbow grease, but in the end, Oak managed it without too many setbacks.


    ¡°Did you have to bang my head on the ladder?¡± Ur-Namma asked, holding onto his aching forehead.


    ¡°Hey, let''s keep a positive ambience and not focus on each other''s mistakes, all right?¡± Oak said and looked away to hide his grin. ¡°Negativity breeds more negativity.¡±


    ¡°If this is another one of your old man¡¯s wisdoms, I will personally crawl into Ashmedai¡¯s hell and beat the crap out of the man,¡± Ur-Namma muttered.


    ¡°You would lose that brawl. Not a very threatening statement?. If I let go of you, are you going to stay up on two legs?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°I will show you when I have recovered, you know that, right?¡± Ur-Namma said, struggling a bit while Oak helped him over a pile of garbage.


    ¡°Looking forward to it, skeleton,¡± Oak replied.


    Geezer looked at the pair and shook his head.


    ¡°What?¡± Oak and Ur-Namma asked at the same time.


    Geezer dignified neither of them with a response. Instead, the hellhound padded past them, snout held high.


    ¡°A mutt is giving me lip,¡± Ur-Namma groaned. ¡°How the mighty have fallen.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. If you want to go any lower, we will have to start digging,¡± Oak replied without missing a beat.


    Ur-Namma sighed and accepted his defeat.


    It was impossible to accurately keep track of the passage of time in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah and it was even harder to keep track of it underground, but Oak was reasonably sure they were moving at an acceptable pace. Ur-Namma seemed to have no trouble remembering the route they had to take and for a long time the three of them walked in silence, passing corridors and occasionally taking a turn at an intersection.


    Sometimes Oak could see signs of monsters living in the sewers, like a couple of ghoul skeletons down a side corridor, but nothing living or undead, for that matter, attacked them. Silence was their only companion.


    The tunnel they were walking down took a sharp right turn. Ur-Namma stumbled over some loose rocks, legs swinging in all the wrong directions, and held onto Oak¡¯s jacket with shaking hands to keep himself from falling on his face.


    ¡°Curses.¡± the elf spat on the walkway, frustration spilling over. ¡°This weakness vexes me.¡±


    Oak did not answer. He stared at the utter absence of light ahead of them. He could not see a thing. Did my darkvision just fail me? The hairs on his arms stood on end, and the silence felt oppressive now, like the calm before the storm. Something was wrong. Very wrong.


    What in Hells is going on? Wait. Ashmedai warned this boon would not pierce magical darkness.


    Acting out of pure instinct, Oak called forth the blaze nesting inside his soul, and cast a stream of orange flames at the darkness in front of him.


    Light and heat flooded the tunnel, and the darkness ahead shrank away from the fire, swirling and rippling like a sea of ink. Liquid feelers jumped forward to strike at Oak, but they disintegrated in the light of his flames, bubbling and boiling away. Droplets of living shadow stained the walls of the tunnel before they, too, suffered the wrath of infernal radiance.


    Geezer barked like mad, Oak screamed, and Ur-Namma let out a long string of something that sounded like curses in elvish.


    The cloud of liquid darkness fled from the onslaught of flames and the tyranny of the light, hissing angrily as it went, and vanished down a side corridor. He could now see all the way to the next turn of the large tunnel, hundreds of feet ahead, without the slightest trouble.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± Oak asked, trying to get his panicked breathing under control. He grabbed the barking hellhound by the back of the neck, and pulled Geezer close, shushing him. ¡°Quiet now, Geezer! You will bring every monster in these bloody tunnels upon us!¡±


    The hellhound whimpered and stuck his head between Oak¡¯s legs.


    Ur-Namma looked positively stumped. ¡°To tell you the truth, I don¡¯t have the faintest idea,¡± he replied. ¡°Let¡¯s try to be more careful going forward.¡±


    ¡°Works for me. Constant vigilance?¡±


    ¡°Constant vigilance.¡±


    ***


    They were approaching another intersection when both Oak and Ur-Namma sensed trouble ahead.


    ¡°Can you feel that?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Oak replied. ¡°A kind of wrinkle in the Waking Dream. Feels like an old memory trap to me.¡±


    The currents of the Dream bounced away from the wrinkle instead of flowing naturally over it and around it, sending ripples traveling along the surface of the Unreal Sea.


    ¡°I concur. There is another issue as well,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°We are supposed to turn right at that intersection, but there is no tunnel to turn to. We can only continue forward or turn left, and both options take us in the wrong direction.¡±


    ¡°So, basically we are lost,¡± Oak said.


    Great. Just what I wanted, the three of us wandering the underbelly of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah like headless chickens looking for a piece of grain.


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t use those exact words,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Do you know the right direction, then?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Yes, some idiot just built a wall there,¡± Ur-Namma hissed.


    ¡°Fine. Now, why would anyone put a memory trap inside a sewer?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°It could honestly just be a malicious prank by one of the maintenance crews,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I know they tended to do stuff like that to each other. Keep in mind this palace was not crawling with monsters back in the day, so the consequences of such a trick would not have been so severe. The victim would just be stuck here for a little while until another crew came along and found them.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to cause any offense, but has the thought ever crossed your mind that the people keeping this place running were out of their fucking minds?¡± Oak asked.


    Ur-Namma¡¯s lips curved into a slight smile and he said, ¡°Once or twice.¡±


    Oak snorted. The idea of sewer crews fighting little turf wars in the dark with memory traps amused him to no end. ¡°Want me to destroy the trap so we can move on?¡± he asked.


    ¡°That would suffice. I could do it too, but I haven¡¯t dived in three hundred years. Might be best I save familiarizing myself with the art for another time when there is nothing on the line,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Even though my wards are considerably better and stronger than yours.¡±


    ¡°A bloody leviathan smacked me with a tentacle, okay,¡± Oak said. ¡°My wards used to be in better shape.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the first time you told me that story, the leviathan just kind of brushed you by accident, but sure, whatever you say,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    Oak ignored the elf¡¯s taunting and sat down, leaning against the brickwall. He placed Ur-Namma right next to himself, told Geezer to keep watch and, without further ado, dove into the Waking Dream.


    Thorns of sorrow made to rend the vessel of his cognition, but his wards held and then he was swimming in the cold currents of the Dream, once more gasping in the frigid waters of old hatred.


    The sewer tunnel inside the Waking Dream was not as straight and architecturally sound as the one in the real world. The walls bulged in places, creating narrow chokepoints and limiting visibility. Oak minimized his own presence as well as he was able, and started walking forward, towards the memory trap.


    The bricks under his feet wailed in grief and lunacy in equal measure, hairs and spines piercing the walls and the ceiling. The spines were wiggling slightly and Oak took great care to not touch any of them.


    No need to find out where that road takes me.


    He did not have to go far before he reached the intersection where a sideways going tunnel cut right through the one they had been traveling down, and sensed a boundary that ran across the tunnel. It marked the domain of the trap and connected to a tightly woven set of crisscrossing memory strings placed in a wrinkle in the ceiling of the intersection.


    If one was stupid enough to break the boundary, that ball of bad news on the ceiling would activate and fuck up your day. The only reason it had been so easy to sense was the fact that the trap was clearly breaking down and losing its cohesion.


    If thought-plagues were a pain in the ass of every large armed force, memory traps were a spook¡¯s worst nightmare. Oak hated dealing with them. If he got hit with a thought-plague, he could usually deal with the problem by himself. No such luck with memory traps. If you triggered one, you were stuck reliving the memory over and over again until someone helped you or the people who had set the trap purged your mind and scattered your thought-stuff around the Dream.


    Memory traps and thought-plagues could be broadly divided into two categories. Ones that triggered when you came across them in the real world and ones that triggered when you ran into them while diving in the Waking Dream. Oak was pretty sure the trap in the sewer tunnel was one of the former, which made dealing with it much easier, since it had not been built to trap a diving spook.


    Slowly and carefully, Oak extended two branches from his tree shaped shadow and got to work, dismantling the trap. He maneuvered the ghostly branches on opposite sides of the trap and pulled on the strings of memory, separating them from each other and unspooling the trap until it lost all structural integrity and fell apart.


    Oak let out a sigh of relief and dove back into his own body.


    ¡°Everything went well, I presume,¡± Ur-Namma said, as Oak opened his eyes.


    ¡°No surprises,¡± Oak replied and stood them both back up. ¡°Let¡¯s keep going.¡±


    Geezer took point, and the three of them walked to the intersection. Ur-Namma looked around with a pensive expression on his face, clearly trying to remember the layout of the sewers, so he could decide whether they should continue forward or turn left, since the tunnel to the right was blocked.


    The tunnel to the right, Oak thought, and a realization froze him in place.


    ¡°The wall. The wall, Ur-Namma.¡± Oak whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°The tunnel to the right was not blocked by a wall in the Waking Dream. It is no guarantee, but that might not be a wall,¡± Oak whispered, staring at the blocked tunnel entrance. The more he looked at it, the clearer it became that he was not looking at a wall of stone like he had assumed at first glance.


    ¡°By the dead,¡± Ur-Namma whispered.


    Oak drew his sword. ¡°Talk to me elf.¡±


    ¡°You are right. I did not see it sooner because of the darkness, but that is no wall. It is a gigantic Dread Biter.¡±

 Chapter 24

    ¡°The name Dread Biter does not inspire confidence,¡± Oak said. The fact that Ur-Namma did not seem overly worried was the only reason he was not sprinting down the tunnel where they had come from.


    ¡°Oh, the worm is quite dreadful, believe me. This specimen is so big that it fills the entire tunnel. The good news is that we are looking at the worm''s backside, so it can¡¯t swallow us whole.¡± Ur-Namma shuffled his feet and stretched his hands towards the low ceiling. ¡°The bad news is that there is no way we can waste time cutting our way through this monster. There is no telling how long it is. We are going to have to circle around it.¡±


    Oak thought about it for a bit. ¡°You know what? I have a really stupid idea, but it just might work,¡± he said.


    ¡°Go ahead, I¡¯m all ears,¡± Ur-Namma said and Oak told him.


    The elf had trouble holding back his smile, which Oak took as a good sign.


    Diving back inside the Dream was not a pleasant experience, but it had to be done and so Oak did it. He clad himself in the sparrow''s ghost and shot off, flying down the tunnel that was blocked by the giant worm in the real world, dodging spines that swayed in the currents of the Dream.


    Oak flew along the tunnel for a time, all senses on alert and eyes peeled, searching through layers of the dream as he traveled. It took a while, but in the end he struck gold and found the Dread Biter¡¯s head. More importantly, he found the worm¡¯s mind and began the slow and arduous effort of slithering inside it.


    Worms are very simple creatures. The monster had no wards to speak off and no proper sense of self, which actually made entering its mind harder and easier at the same time. Harder, because its memories were way more simplistic than Oak¡¯s own and he had no ghost of a worm to draw memories from. Easier, because once he got inside, the worm couldn¡¯t offer any real resistance, since it was so stupid.


    He poked around for a long while, trying and failing to find a way inside until he brought a split second memory of moving down the tunnel with his eyes closed to the forefront and used it as a point of familiarity to slip inside the monster''s mind. Oak was fuming. He had forgotten that worms did not have eyes and wasted a bunch of time.


    Crossing the boundary between the Waking Dream and the Dread Biter¡¯s mind was a strange experience. Suddenly, Oak swam in the dark, pathways of sensory input cutting through the absence of light and stretching back out of his sight. Sound and sensation traveled unhindered through the darkness.


    Enacting the plan turned out to be pretty straightforward. Oak worked backwards from the worm''s mouth, searching for a memory of eating. He swam along the pathways until signals of gnashing teeth and bursting sacks of flesh surrounded him.


    It was like stealing candy from a baby. Oak snatched up a promising memory of the worm, eating something with a rich flavor and too many legs for it to be anything pleasant. He took this morsel back to the worm¡¯s mouth and started lightly swiping the memory through the pathways of sensation inside the worm¡¯s mouth.


    Like holding a carrot on a stick for a particularly stubborn donkey, Oak drove the worm down the tunnel, crushing everything that stood in its path.


    ***


    ¡°I swear, at one point that thing ran out of monsters to eat since everything with even a single thought bouncing around in its skull had vacated the area, and it started chewing on the walls,¡± Oak said, giddy with excitement.


    ¡°I have to admit, this plan of yours worked a lot better than I thought it would,¡± Ur-Namma said. The elf was staring at the flattened corpse of some now unrecognizable giant insect with a frown on his face. ¡°I can¡¯t even tell if that is one monster or many smaller ones pulped together.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Oak said with a broad smile on his face. ¡°Isn¡¯t it great?¡±


    Geezer sniffed the smeared mass of chitin and flesh. The hound decided to lick it with great enthusiasm.


    ¡°Disgusting,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°To think I let that dog lick my face.¡±


    Geezer showed no signs of being bothered by the elf¡¯s comments and continued to lick the pile of chitin and unrecognizable goop. His tail was wagging in time with the movements of his tongue.


    ¡°As much as I hate to stop your fun Geezer, you really should not do that,¡± Oak said and pulled the dog away from the smeared insect. ¡°We don¡¯t have a clue where that thing has been. Or if it''s poisonous.¡±


    With great reluctance, Geezer relented and left the insect behind.


    They continued walking along the tunnel. Ur-Namma was pushing himself hard. The elf tried to lean on Oak as little as possible and put his spindly legs to work, stumbling on the uneven floor. Geezer padded ahead of them and found another smeared monster.


    As the sound of licking started again, Oak groaned. This is going to be a long walk, huh?


    The walk was more than long. It was an exercise in frustration. Oak could not imagine what it would have been like to traverse the sewers without the Boon of Darkvision. Walking in utter darkness, fumbling your way around while the weight of the city hung above you. He shivered and pushed all thoughts of the tonnes and tonnes of rock and stone above him away. There was no need to incite his own fears.


    Ur-Namma spent quite a lot of time looking at the walls of the tunnel as they walked. The elf was so occupied with the walls that if Oak had not caught him, he would have face planted on the floor of the sewer.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think your stick thin wrists are going to catch you if you fall on your face. Mind telling me what is so interesting about some old bricks?¡± Oak asked as he hauled Ur-Namma back to his feet.


    ¡°It is not the walls I am interested in.¡± Ur-Namma huffed. ¡°There are scratches and grooves that look like letters carved on the walls, but the worm''s passing has ground down the surface of the bricks.¡±


    ¡°So you are staring at carvings you can¡¯t read?¡± Oak asked, with a puzzled look on his face.


    That marked the end of their discussion because Ur-Namma started muttering about northern savages and refused to elaborate further when Oak tried to guide the conversation back to the carvings.


    After an indeterminate amount of time, Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma reached their destination. Oak would have walked right past it if he was traveling in the sewers by himself, but Ur-Namma pointed out a small alcove in the tunnel''s wall.


    Inside the alcove was a worn down door which swung open after a bit of pulling. A whiff of stale air and dust welcomed Oak as he stepped through the doorway. A steep, dilapidated staircase led from the small room to the upper levels.


    Oak poked his head out of the room. ¡°I found some stairs.¡±


    ¡°Somehow, I would be happier if you had found a monster,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±


    Watching the elf bang his shins on the stairs was pretty funny, at least by Oak¡¯s standards, but in the end, Ur-Namma climbed up with a bit of help. After Oak opened another door, the three of them found themselves inside a narrow hallway. The lanterns on the walls had gone out long ago, and the air smelled of rot and old parchment.


    ¡°Welcome to the dungeons of the Imperial Library,¡± said Ur-Namma. ¡°Get your weapons out, Oak, and please take point. I will manage without help for a bit.¡±


    Oak shuffled past Geezer and Ur-Namma so he would be first in line and pulled out his short sword and cleaver. ¡°Why does a library need a dungeon?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Some of the books are unruly. If they have survived the test of time, you¡¯ll see,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    It did not take long for Oak to understand the need for a dungeon. Some twists and turns later, the hallway opened into what he could only describe as a very long and wide cellblock. The left wall of the block was a series of small cells in two rows on top of each other, each cell housing at least one cantankerous piece of literature.


    The tomes were quite large and when Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma walked past, the ones that were still capable of movement charged the bars of their cells, thrashing against the metal. Some of them had little legs and other, stranger appendages.


    Geezer took one look at the occupants of the cells and hid behind Oak¡¯s legs.


    ¡°Those books have a lot more teeth than any books I have ever seen,¡± Oak said and stared at one of the tomes which was trying to reach him with a tongue that was over three feet long.


    I am beginning to suspect that the word librarian means something very different to Ur-Namma than it does to me. Let¡¯s put that thought to the test.


    ¡°Humor me, would you Ur-Namma? How did the librarians dress?¡±


    ¡°The ones I knew preferred full-plate,¡± Ur-Namma said distractedly.


    The elf had his back towards the cells and he was leaning against a support column in the middle of the block, looking at the spot where the opposing wall met the ceiling. There were fairly large holes in the ceiling, right next to the wall. It looked like something had shaped the stone and created shafts which most likely connected this level to the one above it.


    I knew it, Oak thought triumphantly. Though if I had to take care of these books, I would want some armor. And a pair of really good gloves.


    Since Ur-Namma was looking at the holes in the ceiling so intently, Oak inspected the shafts as well. They looked strange. Almost like someone had molded the stone like wet clay to form them. Oak squinted. Are there handprints on the stone or am I dreaming?


    ¡°Why would anyone make holes through the floor like that?¡± he asked.


    Ur-Namma was quiet for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he eventually said, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know, and it bothers me.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, we will not figure it out by just looking at the holes, so how about we continue onwards? We might find an explanation on one of the floors above us,¡± Oak said.


    Ur-Namma nodded and, after giving the holes one last look, the elf started shuffling onwards with a careful gait. Oak offered a shoulder for him to lean on and Ur-Namma accepted with a whispered thank you.


    The dungeon was massive, but there was light at the end of the tunnel. Quite literally, in fact, since Oak could see a corner in the distance and a reflection of light on the dungeon wall shining from beyond their sight. They headed towards it.


    Many of the books down in the dungeon had rotted away, but every once in a while a book would charge against the bars of its cell, causing a giant racket that echoed down the hall and startled man, elf and hellhound in equal measure, eliciting a string of curses from Oak and Ur-Namma. As they walked, the hint of light got closer and closer until finally they reached the corner.


    Since Oak could sense no signs of danger, he peaked around the corner. The rows of cells continued and so did the holes in the ceiling, but there was one difference. There were a couple working magical lanterns on this block.


    Light brought a welcome reprieve from the oppressive darkness they had been traveling through, and they stopped to take a drink of water and gather themselves under one of the working lanterns. Ur-Namma was taking a drink, when suddenly the flask dropped from his fingers.


    ¡°Oak.¡± Ur-Namma croaked, and his tone of voice revealed a barely restrained panic.


    The hairs on the back of Oak¡¯s neck stood on end. He had never heard such fear in Ur-Namma¡¯s voice. The elf had been flippant when the revenant had attacked them, but there was no sign of that Ur-Namma now.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Oak whispered and clutched his blades.


    Ur-Namma was staring at runes that had been carved into the wall of the dungeon. The elf pointed at them with a shaking hand. ¡°Those are dwarven runes.¡±


    The elf turned away from the wall and breathed hard, locking eyes with Oak. In a blink of an eye, the panic was gone, and only Ur-Namma¡¯s iron will remained. The lantern painted shadows on Ur-Namma¡¯s skeletal face and the elf loomed like a visage of the reaper himself, skin pulled tight over the bones.


    ¡°There are dwarves in the Imperial Library,¡± the general of the Old Empire said and gripped the handle of his longsword. ¡°We must run.¡±

 Chapter 25

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Oak said.


    He thought it mighty unfair that out of all the buildings in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah; the dwarves had set up shop in the one place they had to search through. Exactly how bad was his luck?


    ¡°Are you sure about the dwarves?¡± he asked.


    Geezer growled.


    ¡°We must run,¡± Ur-Namma said and took a step back.


    ¡°Oh, it is already too late to run.¡± A voice like breaking rock echoed in the cellblock.


    A short, bearded figure walked out from one of the cells down the block. Even though Oak had never seen a dwarf before, there was no mistaking the figure for anything else. The dwarf was singing a hymn in a low, droning voice and walking on the low ceiling. He was bald and bare chested, and his hands had been chopped off at the wrist and replaced with long and crude steel spikes. The dwarf¡¯s eyes shone with mad glee as he stared at Oak, Ur-Namma and Geezer.


    The dwarf licked his chapped lips. ¡°Will you stay for dinner? We can converse while I eat your feet,¡± the dwarf cackled. ¡°I will strum your tendons and play dice with your teeth! I will extract beautiful music from your throats!¡±


    Oak took a step back and pointed his cleaver at the dwarf. ¡°Not a step closer, little man, or I will separate that head from your shoulders,¡± he said.


    Ur-Namma scoffed. It seemed like the elf considered diplomacy a pointless endeavor.


    ¡°Will you paint a masterpiece with the red that runs in my veins?¡± the dwarf asked breathlessly and cocked his head. His muscled arms were trembling, like he was barely restraining himself and losing the battle. ¡°Will you make art with me, kind soul?¡±


    Before Oak could respond, the dwarf started singing his hymn again and charged forward, running full tilt on the ceiling towards him. Just as Oak took a step forward to meet the charge, the sound of boots dragging on stone reached his ears. Another dwarf slid down from a hole in the ceiling on his right.


    Oak was too slow. From the corner of his eye, he could see a dwarf clad in a mail shirt pounce towards him from the ceiling with a hammer in his hand. He raised his cleaver and tried to block the strike, but it was for naught. The dwarf¡¯s war hammer struck a glancing blow to the side of Oak¡¯s head, and his world exploded in pain.


    Everything went dark. Oak crumbled to the ground, and blood gushed onto the stone floor.


    Geezer bared his teeth in a snarl and growled, stepping between the dwarves and Ur-Namma.


    Eyes gleaming with mirth and madness, the pair of dwarves turned their attention to the hellhound and the elf.


    ¡°Nice of you to join the dinner party, Aklaq,¡± said the dwarf with spikes in the place of his hands. He hopped down from the ceiling and landed next to the other dwarf.


    ¡°I would not miss an event like this for the world, Kanut,¡± said Aklaq and spun his hammer. ¡°Now, which do we slaughter first, the mutt or the cripple?¡±


    ***


    If all else fails, be a savage.


    The thought swam in Oak¡¯s head and he grabbed hold of it with desperation, clutching it like a drowning man clutches a piece of driftwood. He hauled himself upwards, towards the light. A bloody hand rose from the darkness and pulled him back down. No! I am free of you! The hand did not listen. It snatched the thought from him and Oak fell down to the darkness.


    The Butcher lay on the floor. Blood dripped onto the stone from a wound on his head. That was not right. The Butcher did not bleed. He made others bleed for him. His hands closed around the handles of blades and a smile twisted his features. Good. He had his instruments.


    The Butcher stood.


    The dwarves were debating something, but they stopped their conversation and turned to face him. Mocking words fell from their lips, but the prattling of dead meat was not important. It was a frivolous distraction. The Butcher laughed, and the shadows laughed with him.


    I am the Slaughterman. The Ferryman of Death. Ruin is my work, and I have been starving for it.


    ¡°You had your time. Had your chance, and wasted it,¡± the Butcher said and stepped forth. ¡°I am here now.¡±


    The dead meat with spikes for hands rushed him, trying to run him through, but the Butcher dodged to the side with a single, measured step and buried his short sword into the meat¡¯s chest.


    He hugged the meat close and whispered, ¡°There is no need to struggle. Let me free the red in your veins.¡±


    Eyes locked onto his next victim, and ear pressed against the dead meat¡¯s quivering throat, the Butcher pushed his sword down. The meat sang a beautiful song. Bone cracked and flesh parted as he sawed through the dwarf in his grip until his blade tasted the free air once more. The dead meat with the hammer circled him. His unholy blood stained the hammer¡¯s head.


    This would be rectified.


    The shadows whispered into the Butcher''s ear, and he listened with care. More dead meat was approaching. That was good. That was right. More meat for him to slaughter.


    The Butcher stepped over the lovely corpse he had made and panted. His mouth hung open like an empty grave.


    I am the fire that burns crops. The famine that claims the children. I am the rattle of the last breath.


    The meatbag wished for death. He could see it in the dwarf¡¯s wide, bloodshot eyes. The meat took a mighty swing, trying to cave in his skull. The Butcher slapped the strike aside with his sword and chopped the dwarf¡¯s head off with his cleaver.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said the head as it rolled past the Butcher¡¯s feet. He nodded at the severed head. It was only proper for the meat to thank the Slaughterman.


    A dwarf poked his head down through a nearby hole in the ceiling, surveying the scene of carnage below. The Butcher focused his will and bathed the dwarf¡¯s face in flame. Flesh ran like melted wax as the dwarf dropped from the ceiling, shouting out his adoration for the Butcher¡¯s fine work.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The dead meat¡¯s beard was a merry bonfire, crackling along and adding its voice to the choir of worship. The Butcher knelt and listened closely for the secret message of the flames. Starved whispers licked his ears. The fire murmured to him. It was hungry, and the Butcher did its bidding. He chopped off the dwarf¡¯s legs and fed them into the flames.


    A pale, wrinkled elf cloaked in sorrow and hate leaned against the wall to the side, backing away slowly. The elf was not a threat. A thin cripple, barely able to raise his blade. A hound with an otherworldly shadow stood by the elf, standing guard, snarling and barking. The shadow coiled around the hound like a living thing, stretching and wriggling.


    He would get to them soon enough. They looked like they would keep for the moment.


    Allies, a faint voice whispered inside his mind. The Butcher ignored it. He was starving for ruin, yearning for carnage. All would be made still by the touch of his blades in due time.


    More meat, the shadows whispered. Something pierced the Butcher''s shoulder. There was no need to worry. Pain was the problem of lesser men. What was pain to the Butcher but an unheard language? It told tall tales and whispered sweet nothings to him.


    The Butcher stood.


    Four dwarves dropped from the holes in the ceiling. They were holding wicked looking axes and swords.


    Adequate tools in inferior hands. This must be corrected.


    Always the Butcher yearned for work, and always Creation provided.


    ¡°Ooh, a big fucker!¡± One dwarf shouted. ¡°His skull will make a fine pisspot!¡±


    ¡°Kneel, so you can receive my kindness. Stand and I shall force it upon you,¡± the Butcher said. ¡°Either way, none shall escape.¡±


    The dwarves stood and faced him. The Butcher laughed. Head lolling to the side, he got to work.


    A beautiful chaos filled the cellblock. The dwarves did their best to surround him, to bring their numbers to bear. They came from odd angles, crawled on the walls, and walked on the ceiling. None of it made a lick of difference. He was a wolverine, rending prey asunder. An alley cat playing with rats. His blades traveled in wide arcs, slicing off ears, lopping off fingers.


    An enraged dwarf, the side of his face covered in blood, rushed at him. The Butcher had turned him asymmetric. Sword and axe flashed down upon him, cruel edges ready to spill his blood. He slapped them aside, metal clashing against metal, and kicked the little man in the nuts. The dwarf sputtered and fizzled like a bursting pig¡¯s bladder.


    He buried his sword deep in the dwarf¡¯s stomach. A rip and a slice later, the meat lay on the floor, disemboweled. The Butcher took a deep, nourishing breath. The roots of his bones drank deep from the fresh blood.


    ¡°Is this the measure of you?¡± The Butcher asked. ¡°Pathetic warriors make pathetic carcasses.¡±


    An axe wielding dwarf took exception to his words. ¡°Kill you! I¡¯ll kill you, and roast that offending tongue of yours on an open flame!¡±


    In response, the Butcher took his arm. Oh, how the dwarf sang when blood spurted from the stump, painting the walls red.


    Every hurt he returned threefold, every swing he answered with three of his own. Exhaustion seeped into the remaining dwarves, shone in their eyes. More and more they gasped for breath, every swing of their blades slower than the last. The Butcher cared not for the weakness of muscle and sinew. He was a direwolf, long striding, foe slaying. A hyena breaking bone and shredding flesh.


    He laid the dwarves low with wild abandon, and the corpses chanted his name.


    ***


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 7 Souls


    + 14 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The Butcher beheld all he had wrought and found it good. Slaughtered meat was strewn about the cellblock in a pleasing manner, the sum greater than its individual parts. A ruinous act of creation. But the work was not yet done. There was always more to do.


    The elf and the dog stood rooted on the spot as the Butcher walked towards them. His steps were measured and unhurried. There was no rush. No one escaped the Slaughterman. The hound stood between him and the elf, hackles raised and a low growl spilling from his throat. One had to be the first, so the other could be the second.


    The Butcher lifted his cleaver.


    Oak lowered it.


    Tears in his eyes and slobber on his chin, Oak stumbled and crashed against the wall of the dungeon. The blades slid from his grip and clattered onto the stone. He slid down and sat on the floor, staring at Geezer and Ur-Namma with wide eyes.


    ¡°I am sorry,¡± Oak said and hid his face. ¡°So sorry.¡±


    ¡°Exquisite. You are exquisite,¡± Ur-Namma said. Now that death was no longer a heartbeat away, the elf¡¯s legs had given up, and he too sat on the floor of the cellblock.


    ¡°I almost killed both of you.¡± Oak wailed. ¡°Oh, Geezer. I am sorry. You know I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Geezer looked at Oak mournfully, but did not approach. Oak wailed harder. He felt like something was ripping his soul to pieces. For a time, they all sat in the dim light of the lanterns and waited for clarity to return to them.


    ¡°I have been lying to myself,¡± Oak said. ¡°I thought I was free of him. That war had made him and when the war was over, he would disappear.¡±


    ¡°You told me you were a Warlock but¡­,¡± Ur-Namma said, searching for the right words. ¡°I have to admit you are a bit more infernal than you let on.¡±


    Oak laughed, and there was an edge of hysteria to the laughter that he could not hide. "Oh, I wish I was."


    He turned his head and faced Ur-Namma, tired eyes boring through the elf¡¯s skull.


    "This is all me. Every twisted desire and perverse delight," Oak said. ¡°Blood and offal. I am covered in them from head to toe. Enemy and friend, man, woman and child. Every corpse is mine, and mine alone. I have been slow to learn this lesson, but a man can¡¯t run from himself. By Ashmedai I have tried.¡±


    Ur-Namma¡¯s expression was unreadable. The elf cocked his head and stared at Oak for a while, letting the silence between them stretch.


    When he finally spoke, there was a hint of steel in his voice. "Northerner. Look at me. You might have done some evil deeds. Might be that you are an evil bastard at heart, but I doubt it. Our worst actions are rarely the truest thing about us. Whatever the answer, I care not. Be an evil man filled with ill intent if you must, be something else if you have to. There is room for it in the wide circle of the world. Sometimes Creation needs an evil man. This is the time of strife. I can feel it in my bones. The time of the sword and the spear."


    ¡°Even an evil man can do much good if he finds himself in the right place at the right time. And this is the right time. We just need to get you to the right place,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Do not fall into despair. The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves. You have passed the first test. You have accepted that what you thought you were was just a dream.¡±


    Oak just shook his head. As he did so, he noticed there was a knife sticking to his left shoulder. He yanked it out with a cry and pressed the wound closed with his right hand. Blood stained the ruin of his jacket.


    My hands are dripping red. At least this blood is my own.


    He frowned morosely at the stone floor. How in the world had it come to this? How had he been so blind?


    "Oak. My friend, please look at me,¡± Ur-Namma said and Oak relented, turning his gaze towards the elf.


    ¡°Tomorrow, just like the day before it, the sun rises and a new day dawns. There''ll be time for new triumphs. And new mistakes. There is comfort in that,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Maybe. But triumphs fade from memory while the mistakes linger,¡± Oak said and closed his eyes. ¡°I have piled enough weight on my shoulders to last many a lifetime already.¡±


    ¡°It is a good thing that you have such broad shoulders,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    Oak chuckled. ¡°Not broad enough for this, I think. I don¡¯t know. Maybe things will be different in the morning. Can we be quiet for a while? I-I need to think. Find a sense of calm.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Take as much time as you need.¡±


    Leaning against the wall of the dungeon, in a slaughterhouse of his own making, Oak searched for a bedrock where he could plant his feet but found none. There was only a chasm under his boots, and below the Butcher waited, holding the tools of his trade in bloodstained hands.

 Chapter 26

    The cellblock was a charnel house of Oak¡¯s own creation. He tried not to look at the corpses of the dwarves as they walked through it. Ur-Namma and Geezer were not in any mood to inspect them, either. Everyone wanted to leave the dungeon behind them as soon as possible.


    Oak¡¯s lunch was attempting to escape from his stomach, and he was lightheaded. The wound on the side of his head had stopped bleeding, but it throbbed with a dull pain that made him clench his teeth together. The knife wound on his shoulder ached with every step, a trickle of blood making its way down his side.


    Seven souls for two wounds did not seem like too bad of a deal on its face, but Oak felt like he had been run over by a warhorse, and that was only the beginning of his misfortunes.


    What a shitty day, he thought and chuckled weakly. There is an understatement of the century. I need a new term to describe the depths of my failure. He felt like he was adrift at sea in a small dinghy with no port in sight. Utterly at the mercy of an uncaring ocean that would have liked nothing more than to drag him down to the depths.


    The beast thought that was a marvelous idea, and it wanted to hold the rudder on the way down.


    No. No more lies. I am doing it again. Describing the Butcher like it is an invader inside my mind. Like it is not a facet of myself I must face, and eliminate. No longer will I hold on to this falsehood and debase myself. Let it never be said that I am incapable of learning the lesson when it has been presented to me.


    There was a sick sense of relief in finally facing who he was. Who he had always been under the self-deception.


    No one else can have my mistakes. They have made me who I am.


    To Oak¡¯s immense relief, they quickly found stairs leading to the level above. Ur-Namma cursed like a sailor the entire way up the stairs, but Oak could tell that the elf was still relieved to get out of the dungeon. They reached a landing with another set of stairs continuing upwards towards the ground floor and a small hallway leading to the basement of the Imperial Library.


    Nobody had any desire to explore the convoluted underground sections of the Library more than they had to, so he led Ur-Namma and Geezer upwards. The dog stayed at the rear, far away from him. That, more than anything else, gnawed at Oak¡¯s heart. It wasn¡¯t like he did not deserve it. He had been a second away from splitting Geezer¡¯s skull.


    I¡¯m always sorry. And no matter how sorry I am, it never changes what I did. I¡¯m a bastard and a half.


    Just before they reached the ground floor, Oak signaled for the others to wait and sneaked ahead. He focused with every fiber of his being, but he could not hear any sign of dwarves close by. The Ears of Amdusias did not reveal anything or anyone waiting in the hall. Since there was no sign of an ambush, he went back and beckoned the others to join him.


    Ur-Namma looked like he was utterly spent when he made it to the top of the stairs. Rivulets of sweat ran down the ancient elf¡¯s face. ¡°Can we find a place where we can sleep and rest? I know it¡¯s dangerous to linger, but I can¡¯t go on,¡± he said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up over it. I need a good night¡¯s sleep as well,¡± Oak whispered. ¡°My head is killing me.¡±


    ¡°If you weren¡¯t concussed after that dwarf slammed you in the head with a hammer, I would really question your parentage,¡± Ur-Namma quipped. ¡°The fact your skull is not in pieces is frankly astonishing. Are you certain one of your ancestors is not an ogre, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure the old man would have mentioned something like that,¡± Oak muttered. He walked around the hall, carefully opening doors, and peeking inside.


    Hmm. A storage locker won¡¯t do.


    Ur-Namma grinned. ¡°You never know. People can be touchy about that sort of thing. Why, I once knew a man whose grandmother was an ogre. The poor guys'' lower canines had more in common with tusks than human teeth, but the fellow never admitted the truth,¡± he said.


    ¡°Maybe the poor man was just dentitionally challenged,¡± Oak said, continuing his search..


    ¡°Oh my, the barbarian is using fancy words. Be careful, that skull of yours might already have a crack in it. If you strain your brain with all those syllables, it just might burst open.¡± Ur-Namma scoffed. ¡°Leave the thinking to me. I am clearly more suited for it.¡±


    ¡°Considering the events of today, that is a statement even I won¡¯t argue with,¡± Oak said. He opened a promising-looking door on the other side of the hall and looked inside. ¡°I think I found our resting place. Based on the amount of dust on the floor, the dwarves haven¡¯t had a use for this storage space in decades.¡±


    ¡°Thank God,¡± Ur-Namma said and shuffled inside. He promptly collapsed against a bookcase filled with rotting manuscripts. The resulting dust cloud caused a coughing fit, which left the elf gasping for breath and sprawling on the floor. Geezer sneezed with such force that his entire body shook from side to side.


    Oak quickly shut the door and pressed his ear to it, listening for any signs of movement. Despite the danger, he could not help the grin that was rising on his face.


    ¡°Not a word, do you hear me?¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Not a word.¡±


    ¡°My lips are sealed,¡± Oak replied, and since he could hear nothing creeping up on them to slit their throats, he started clearing some of the dust away.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The hardtack was dry enough without a layer of dust and grime covering it. When Oak was happy with their eating space, he unpacked food and drink for the three of them from his rucksack and handed it out to Geezer and Ur-Namma.


    Apparently Geezer was not angry enough to refuse corned beef from Oak¡¯s hand, but the hound swiftly snatched the salty treat from him, and settled down to eat in a corner of the room. All in all, Oak was just happy the dog was willing to come near him at all.


    If someone almost murdered me in cold blood, it would take a bit of time for me to trust them again, if I ever would. So I have no right to complain, he thought. He would just have to work on it, little by little.


    To get something else to think about, Oak prodded Ur-Namma for conversation, since the elf looked like he had breath in his lungs again. He loved stories about ages past and the elf had literally been there to see it with his own eyes.


    ¡°I have told you a bit of my life before I ended up in this city. Would you mind telling me about yours? What was it like to live in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah before the Doom?¡±


    Ur-Namma swallowed his food down and nodded. ¡°Why not? Though there is a millennia of history to share with you. I could speak for a day and a night and still leave you ignorant. Let me think about where I should begin,¡± he said.


    The elf closed his eyes for a moment and thought in silence. When he began speaking, his voice was gentle and proud, like a father telling a tale of his son''s exploits. ¡°Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah began as a settlement of the Tribe of Shara. Aoibheann and I took what remained of our tribe here after the death of the dragon Azidahaka and the downfall of the dwarves. I laid down the first foundation with my own hands.¡±


    It was hard to imagine Ur-Namma doing menial labor, but Oak was willing to entertain the thought for the sake of the story. In his experience, royalty and hard work fit together like cats and dogs.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Ur-Namma coughed and took a sip of water. ¡°Our settlement grew quickly. We were located next to a large river, so trade by ship was easy and convenient, and we provided a safe harbor from the perils of the age. The war against the dragons left behind a shattered continent filled with chaos. Chaos which me and my sister were quick to exploit, if I am being honest.


    ¡°I grew our army and conquered some of our weaker neighbors. My life during the birth of our empire was spent between campaigning and surveying the building of the city. My sister ruled with wisdom, and trade and blunder filled our coffers with treasure,¡± Ur-Namma said with evident pride.


    That is a nice way of saying you killed a bunch of folk and stole their stuff. Well, I shouldn¡¯t be too hard on the poor guy, glass houses and all that.


    ¡°Together we began a golden age that would last for centuries. During the height of the Empire, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah was a land of milk and honey for elves, men, and any other sentient race who wished to live in the greatest city in the world.¡± Ur-Namma boasted. ¡°For example, ogres rarely settle in cities, but we had a sizable population living here. We even had a small commune of ratlings living in the city at one point in time.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Ratlings lived here?¡± The very idea was preposterous to him. Living next to ratlings was about as safe as living next to a ghoul nest.


    Ur-Namma waved him off. ¡°Yes. This was before they threw their lot in with Abaddon. After that, my only interaction with ratlings has happened on the battlefield. Many times, I rode to the aid of our northern allies to stop a horde in its tracks.¡±


    ¡°Well, not much has changed on that front,¡± Oak said. ¡°We in the North rarely have trouble with the rats, since our western border is secured by a mountain range and a series of bogs, though once in a while a band of ratlings makes trouble. I have heard that Chadash Merkavah northwest of here deals with regular invasions, though.¡±


    ¡°Chadash Merkavah?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°The name is quite telling, yes?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Many call it the greatest city of this age. The people who fled from this place during the Doom founded it. Some elves settled there, but most headed further west, across the desert.¡±


    ¡°You will have to tell me more about this Chadash Merkava sometime,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°It sounds¡­promising.¡±


    Oak nodded. ¡°I have never visited, but I would be glad to share what little I know.¡±


    ¡°I will hold you to that,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°For now, I will get back to my tale.


    ¡°As I said, life was good. I spent my days at court with my sister, challenged myself against the occasional monster that required my personal attention, and watched our city and tribe prosper,¡± Ur-Namma said. His eyes grew misty. ¡°Aoibheann liked to play cards and board games with me. We would play late into the night at the top of the ziggurat and watch the stars.¡±


    ¡°Everything changed when God died.¡± The elf looked even older than usual and lowered his face in sorrow. ¡°Aoibheann took the death of the Mother very hard. She withdrew to her quarters and her magic. When before she had walked among our people daily, now it was rare to see her leave the ziggurat.¡±


    Every time Oak was reminded of the fact that Ur-Namma had been walking around when God was still alive, he felt a sense of wonder. To him, God had always been a figure of myth and legend. The Creator that had killed herself. Never a living divine.


    What it must have been like. To know the Mother was there, always. Suddenly, Oak found himself glad he had been born after The Mother''s death. Losing that certainty would have been horrific.


    Ur-Namma lifted his gaze from the floor and looked at Oak. ¡°I dealt with the death of God in my own way. The Wars of Faith began almost before God''s corpse had grown cold. Twice I had to put an entire city to the sword to avoid outright civil war. I was on campaign for long stretches of time, away from my sister and her growing sorrow.¡±


    ¡°That I regret, most of all,¡± Ur-Namma said, shaking his head. ¡°I felt like I was the only one who could put out the fires. Now I wish I had delegated more. I used to torture myself with the idea that if I had just been at Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah more often, spent more time with her, I would have been able to keep Yam-Nahar from poisoning my sister''s mind. It is useless, of course. There is no guarantee it would have made any difference. But for a long time I could not help myself.¡±


    ¡°If you could go back in time and do things differently, would you?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Thought about that yourself I take it?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    Oak nodded. ¡°All too often.¡±


    ¡°In a heartbeat. But father time is as merciless as they come. There are no do overs. What is done is done, and it''s no use crying over spilt milk,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°One way or another, we all have to learn to live with our choices.¡±


    The silence stretched, and Oak sensed story time was over. ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t learned to live with mine yet. But as you said, maybe a goodnight¡¯s sleep will bring some perspective with it,¡± he said. ¡°Do you mind taking the first watch if I go to sleep?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I will wake you when it is time to switch. Sleep well, friend.¡±


    A bundled up jacket made for a lousy pillow and a stone floor was no substitute for an actual bed, but Oak was out like a light the instant he closed his tired eyes.

 Chapter 27

    Oak¡¯s feet were cold.


    He blinked his eyes open and looked around. The rock he was sitting on was damp and rough, untouched by human hands. Sunlight streamed from somewhere behind him and shimmered on the walls of the cavern, casting his shadow across the coarse rock.


    It was not the only shadow cast upon the wall. There was another shadow, just like his own, and between the black lines of shade, bathed in sunlight, was a pit. It was filled with corpses.


    This feels like a dream.


    Slowly, Oak followed the shadow to its source with his gaze. He gasped. The Butcher was sitting on a rock and sharpening a blade. Blood dripped from his hands onto the floor. Facing the Butcher like this was a disquieting experience. He was a perfect copy of Oak in every way. The same huge frame, the same dirty blonde hair and beard. A nose which had been broken more times than he could count and a face lined with scars. And yet he was completely different.


    It was the posture and the eyes that truly set them apart. While Oak sat there clenching his shoulders, the Butcher lounged, filled with relaxed confidence. An insane delight shone in the Butcher¡¯s eyes as the madman stared at him.


    For a reason that Oak could not explain, it felt like all of him was laid bare under the Butcher¡¯s gaze. Like there was no secret that could be withheld from the Butcher¡¯s sight.


    ¡°I hope this will not happen every night from here on out. It would ruin my beauty sleep,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry. This won¡¯t become a common occurrence,¡± The Butcher drawled.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Oak asked. Why am I here?


    The Butcher shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What do you think?¡± he said. It felt like a lie.


    Oak looked around and pondered the question. He tried to turn around to see where the light was coming from, but found himself unable to do so. Something was stopping him, holding him back from facing the light.


    ¡°Seems like a cave to me. Why can¡¯t I turn around?¡± Oak asked. ¡°What is out there, outside the cave?¡±


    The Butcher gave him a lopsided grin. ¡°The truth.¡±


    ¡°Bloody useful. If it''s your truth, I want nothing to do with it. Truth can cut worse than any blade,¡± Oak muttered. He examined the pit in the middle of the cavern. There were corpses of dwarves at the top of the pile.


    ¡°We need to have a talk, you and I,¡± the Butcher said. ¡°I want to add more meat to that pit.¡±


    A sick feeling between disgust and fascination was crawling around in Oak¡¯s stomach. ¡°How deep is it?¡± he asked, even though in his heart he could already guess the answer.


    ¡°As deep as it needs to be. We are the Ferryman of Death, and our work is never done.¡± The Butcher growled. ¡°Not ever.¡±


    Maggots and flies swarmed in the pile of dead flesh. Oak stared at the corpses, unable to turn away from them. ¡°Fine. I admit it. The pile must grow. I want to keep filling that pit. Stacking corpses upon corpses. But I will do it on my own terms,¡± he said, and wrenched his gaze from the pit and its unnatural allure so he could look the Butcher in the eye.


    The Butcher scoffed. ¡°What terms will you negotiate with yourself, Slaughterman? We are nature taking its course. We are the forest fire and the avalanche. You would stop your own bloodstained hand?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I would stop you,¡± Oak said and found he actually meant it.


    The Butcher threw his head back and laughed with delight. ¡°There is not a drop of blood I would not spill. An ocean of red would not satisfy me. It is my calling to cull the herd.¡±


    The way he said it made it seem like it was both a truth and a lie at the same time, but for the life of him, Oak could not figure out what he was missing.


    ¡°I know,¡± Oak said. It seemed fair to lie if the Butcher was lying.


    The Butcher shook his head. He looked amused. ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±


    Oak was getting frustrated. He was out of balance and on the back foot. Not a set of circumstances he often found himself in. ¡°Are you reading my mind?¡±


    The Butcher ignored Oak¡¯s question and answered with one of his own. ¡°When a man beats himself, what is he left with?¡±


    Oak shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I haven¡¯t the foggiest. You tell me.¡±


    ¡°A black eye and torn knuckles,¡± The Butcher said.


    Something about the joke made Oak feel cold all over. Like his mind could not grasp the meaning in the words, but his body could. The cave felt colder than a heartbeat ago. Oak¡¯s knuckles ached.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± Oak said. ¡°You worthless piece of shit.¡±


    ¡°Hear, hear,¡± the Butcher replied.


    Blood was thundering in Oak¡¯s ears, and he scrambled to his feet. No matter what, he was done running from his mistakes. Before he even realized it, he had crossed the distance between himself and the Butcher, and he was lying on top of the facet of his own ego, raining punches on the Butcher''s face.


    No matter how hard he punched, the Butcher never stopped smiling. When Oak finally stopped and staggered backwards, the Butcher''s face was a grinning ruin.


    ¡°What did I tell you?¡± the Butcher asked and stood up.


    Oak fell on his ass, facing the pit. His knuckles were torn and his own face felt like the Butcher¡¯s face looked. The anger had spilled out of him and left only hollowness behind it. So much effort wasted, just to show what a fool he truly was. A common occurrence.


    The Butcher walked up to Oak and crouched down to eye level with him. ¡°There is not a drop of blood I would not spill,¡± he repeated.


    In the Butcher¡¯s eyes, Oak saw the ideal of the Charnel Pit. A chasm filled with corpse-flesh, without end or beginning. His breath quickened and his hands shook. Whether they shook from fright or excitement, Oak could not tell. Bloody hands took hold of Oak¡¯s shoulders and lifted.


    He found himself in the air, held aloft by a grip as unyielding as a steel bar.


    Laughing in delight, the Butcher threw Oak into the pit. The corpses made way for him and Oak fell into darkness. He screamed and clawed for a handhold, desperate to stop his fall without success. Every time he arrested his descent by gripping onto a cold and slimy hand or a rotten leg, the corpse shook him off and pushed him downwards.


    Mocking faces leered at Oak as he fell through a tunnel made of cadavers, each second more horrifying than the last. The tunnel of flesh grew narrower and narrower until the corpses were crushing Oak between them and forcing the air from his lungs. He gasped and croaked for air, but there was no room to breathe.


    Maggots and flies crawled on Oak¡¯s face and he screamed without a voice as dead meat held him tight in its cold embrace.


    ***


    Oak sprang up to a sitting position, covered in cold sweat. ¡°By the dead,¡± he muttered and breathed hard, hands traveling around his body, searching for imagined maggots and flies. He was on the floor of the storage room inside the Imperial Library. It was not real. A dream. Just a dream. Oak hugged himself and shuddered.


    ¡°Everything alright?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Oak said. ¡°Just a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I imagine you have no desire to go back to sleep?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    Oak shook his head.


    ¡°In that case, I will retire for the night. Wake me up when it feels appropriate to do so. Or if the dwarves find us. If I have to die, I would do it with a blade in my hand,¡± the elf said and laid down on the floor. He used his sandals and the harness Oak had made of torn curtains as a pillow, and in no time at all, Ur-Namma was fast asleep.


    The elf looked strange when he was not awake. He always had an intensity to him, but now it was absent and he just looked old. Oak found it a bit unsettling. It was not how he saw Ur-Namma in his mind¡¯s eye.


    ¡°Right,¡± Oak said to himself. He could not get the Butcher¡¯s laughter out of his head. ¡°Fuck all that.¡±


    Geezer stirred in the corner of the room. The hellhound lifted his head from the floor and looked at Oak quizzically.


    ¡°Hello buddy,¡± Oak said. ¡°Been a rough night so far.¡±


    Geezer turned away and went back to sleep.


    Oak sighed and looked at the ceiling. Fuck everything. While he tried to find a comfortable sitting position, the knife wound on his shoulder started aching. Fuck every fucking thing. At least the wound was not bleeding anymore.


    It was a long night. Oak kept watch, ears perked for anything moving in the halls outside the little storage room they had holed up in, but nothing disturbed their rest. He was bored to tears, but at least he had no trouble staying awake. The nightmare had seen to that.


    He decided to check up on his infernal engine to pass the time.


    Trying to feel his own soul still felt strange, like trying to turn his eyes backwards to view his own brain, but Oak managed it once again, and found himself viewing the bright, three layered opaque ball of solid flame.


    The spiral of black, gleaming metal flowing back into itself at the center of his being had gained seven more souls since he had last looked at it. The gears turned, ontological fuel flowed, and the furnace burned with ever more intense flames.


    Behind the engine and powered by its infernal glow, were his boons. Pyromancy, the Ears of Amdusias and Demonic constitution, now joined by a boon from the Branch of Ipos. Darkvision.


    Oak looked at the fount of his power and tried to imagine the future. It was quite hard to see what choices would serve him best in the days ahead. He just did not have experience in fighting with magical abilities or utilizing so many different domains of existence. Nor the breadth of understanding required to see what was possible.


    What he had was the good sense to ask for help.


    Ur-Namma had been part of battles that shook the foundations of the earth under their feet. The elf should be able to give him some guidance when it came time to choose another boon. Those seven dwarves had been worth a lot. Oak had a feeling he might be able to afford two extra boons by the time they escaped Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, and he had to make them count.


    Even more than advice with his next couple of choices, Oak needed a long-term plan. He would need both versatility and depth of power. It will be a hard balance to strike, he thought. But Ashmedai will help, and I think he was right. I must build a tower which fits my own strengths, and covers my worst weaknesses. It has to be a reflection of me or it will fail.


    Watching the souls circle through his engine was hypnotic, but Oak had to bring himself back to the present. It would not do for him to slack too much while on guard duty, after all. He blinked the afterimages of the furnace from his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Soon it would be time to wake up Ur-Namma and Geezer.


    Another morning, another breakfast. Hardtack, salt-cured meat, or both at once? What a world.

 Chapter 28

    Oak had officially recovered from his brush with starvation. He was ready and willing to complain about food once more.


    ¡°How is it even possible to make something edible as dry as this hardtack? I mean, really?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Though I agree this is no courtly feast, I can¡¯t complain,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I went three hundred years without a bite to eat. I shan¡¯t say a bad word about food for the next three centuries if I can help it.¡±


    Geezer ate his salted pork without complaint, so that left Oak as the odd one out. He pointed at Ur-Namma with his half-eaten piece of hardtack and said, ¡°You will come to your senses, you¡¯ll see. A week more of eating this crap and you will be complaining about the state of our meals like a fresh recruit.¡±


    Ur-Namma scoffed. ¡°A general does not complain like a common soldier. He must set an example for his troops,¡± the elf said. ¡°And before you ask, I consider myself above you in the chain of command, savage.¡±


    ¡°Am I to understand that I fulfill the rigorous standards of the armies of the Old Empire? I must, after all, if I am part of the chain of command, right?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Truly I¡¯m honored.¡±


    Ur-Namma looked at Oak with a wily grin on his face and said, ¡°Well, if you just let me shave that beard of yours¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare, Elf,¡± Oak said. ¡°You are just jealous you can¡¯t grow a beard in the first place and hide that thing you call a jaw.¡±


    Ur-Namma showed his pointed, needle-like teeth.


    Oak lifted his hands in surrender. ¡°Let¡¯s just call it even, shall we? I have the better beard and you have the better chewing equipment,¡± he said. ¡°By the Chariot, how do you not bite your tongue off every time you eat something?¡±


    The elf did not respond with words. He just clicked his teeth together a few times and hissed.


    God had some weird ideas bouncing around her skull when she made elves.


    ¡°Right. So that¡¯s that. Let¡¯s talk about something else. How about the weather?¡± Oak asked.


    ***


    The hall outside was quiet and deserted. Oak, Ur-Namma and Geezer crept out of the storage room, and Oak closed the door behind them so anyone or anything passing through would not notice they had been here. The honor of taking point fell once again on his shoulders. He sneaked out of the hall and into the hallways of the Imperial Library, ears perked and eyes peeled for trouble.


    Geezer and Ur-Namma followed like his two shadows.


    As they walked along a dark hallway lined with wall hangings and paintings of different elves and men, Oak felt a barely noticeable chill in the Waking Dream around him. Something was different here, and it had changed recently. He had not felt this the day before.


    ¡°You feel that?¡± Oak whispered to Ur-Namma.


    The elf nodded and, thanks to the Boon of Darkvision, Oak saw the gesture. It was funny how quickly being extraordinary just became ordinary.


    ¡°The feeling is so faint, I can¡¯t tell what it is. Maybe something passed through here?¡± Ur-Namma whispered.


    ¡°Maybe. Hope we don¡¯t run into it,¡± Oak whispered back.


    The vault they were looking for was located in one of the many towers of the library, in a reading room which Empress Aoibheann, Ur-Namma¡¯s sister, had reserved for her own use. As Ur-Namma had explained it, they would have to go to the main hall of the library and take the stairs until they reached the top floor and could enter the tower.


    Oak was just about to turn a corner into another hallway, when sounds from his left painted an image to his mind. A procession of walking books was making its way towards them, tiny legs beating the floor in a steady rhythm. He stopped Ur-Namma and Geezer from turning the corner and quickly led everyone to an alcove they had just passed.


    The space was not meant for two people and a dog, but somehow they made it work. Oak could see a tiny sliver of the hallway ahead from their hiding place and he watched with bated breath as the books walked past the hallway they were hiding in.


    There were small booklets, giant tomes and everything between, all patrolling the halls with their tiny chicken legs. The one at the front had a thick leather spine, and its long tongue was dragging on the floor, leaving a trail of slobber in its wake.


    Oak shook his head in amazement. I can forget ever mentioning this adventure. Nobody back home is ever going to believe this, he thought. I never thought I would say this, but John Cutter and every other incurious stuffy bastard near Spoke was right. The elves are bloody barmy. People who read too much were a bit suspicious by Oak¡¯s estimation anyway, and this seemed like proof to him that his intuition had been correct.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Walking books. What next? If there is a flying pig in this city, I am surely going to run into it.


    They waited until all sounds of the marching books had faded before they continued onwards.


    ¡°But really, though? Walking books?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Think of it this way. There is no need to carry them around when the things can just follow you on their own two feet,¡± Ur-Namma answered defensively. ¡°Quite a practical invention, in my opinion.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°I am and I won¡¯t be convinced otherwise,¡± Ur-Namma replied. There was a strange tone to his voice, like his heart was not fully in what he was saying.


    ¡°Wait a moment. Don¡¯t tell me your sister came up with this nonsense.¡± Oak groaned. There was no way Ur-Namma would defend something this moronic unless he had a soft spot for the person who came up with the idea.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Ur-Namma said. Oak could tell the elf was lying. ¡°I have no idea where you got that idea, but it is not true.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure. Everything is starting to make more sense now. Did she, by chance, keep a pet chimera around the palace?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Because I told you about that wolf-thing I saw in the city and your face did a funny twitch.¡±


    ¡°I refuse to entertain your delusions,¡± Ur-Namma said and looked away.


    Bullseye, Oak thought. The grin stayed on his face all the way to the entrance of the library.


    Like all things in the capital of the Old Empire, the main hall of the Imperial Library was massive. Book shelves as tall as three men combined went on and on in neat rows for what seemed like hundreds and hundreds of feet under the high ceiling hanging above this cathedral to literature and scholarship.


    You could have easily fit the fields of multiple families in the building''s place and still had room left over, Oak thought, as he gawked at the collection of knowledge. Books walked between the rows and jumped around on top of the shelves without a care in the world. The only sound he could hear was the tapping of small feet.


    ¡°Is the second floor just like this one?¡± Oak asked. He had trouble imagining the amount of books held in the library. Hell, just trying to comprehend the amount of books housed on this floor alone was making his head spin.


    ¡°Yes. So are floors three, four and five,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. The elf seemed to enjoy Oak¡¯s amazement.


    The stairs to the second floor connected to the wall on their left, close to the middle point of the library hall. Lucky for them, since the entire rightmost wall was dotted with tall glass windows all the way from floor to ceiling, and Oak could see glimpses of tiny spots of light shining in the gloom of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. Magical lanterns burned brighter in the center of the city, chasing away the shadows.


    Oak, Ur-Namma, and Geezer did not venture among the shelves. Instead, they circled around the exterior, walking towards the staircase that would take them upwards.


    They passed a counter where librarians had probably stood in centuries past, ready to help scholars and mages with all of their needs related to research or literature. Oak found the fact there was a full-face helmet and a pair of metal gauntlets on the countertop endlessly funny.


    A different type of work uniform indeed.


    As Oak turned his gaze away from the counter, he froze. In the darkness, between the shelves on his right, lay a gigantic tome. He would have never seen it without Darkvision. Oak raised his hand and signaled for the others to stop. The tome was the size of a cow and it had thick chicken legs hidden under its bulk. Rows of sharp teeth covered the edges of its cover. He could not be sure, but he had a feeling the book had noticed them.


    Even worse, waves of incoming sound warned Oak of another threat quickly closing in on their position. A figure that was surely a dwarf was leaping between bookshelves, crossing row after row with practiced grace.


    ¡°A giant book on our right. A dwarf on top of the shelves,¡± Oak whispered and signaled for Geezer to circle around from behind. The hellhound stalked into the darkness and vanished between the shelves.


    Ur-Namma nodded and moved backwards, pressing his back against a shelf. The elf drew his longsword and kissed the blade. As silently as he could, Oak took off his rucksack and placed it behind the counter. They would be in deep trouble if all their food and water got destroyed in a fight.


    It was time to kick some ass. Oak cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. If he could help it, he would kill the dwarf first. Even though the book looked like trouble, nothing thus far had come as close to killing him as the dwarves. If the one who struck him unconscious had finished the job, that would have been it for him.


    With a plan of action in mind, Oak sprinted at a bookshelf and jumped, getting a hold of the top of the shelf. He pulled himself up and drew his falchion. That was all he managed before the dwarf the Ears of Amdusias had warned him of leveled a flute in his direction and played a ringing note from it.


    A wave of translucent magic struck Oak in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer and he went flying, tumbling head over heels back to the floor below. The impact with the stone tiles was not gentle.


    Once the stars had cleared from his eyes, Oak stood back up and took stock of his situation.


    The giant book had stood up and even though the massive piece of surely very important literature had no visible eyes, Oak could tell the fucker was staring right at him.


    The dwarf walked into view on top of the shelf she had thrown him down from, flute held loosely at her side. She had long hair and her face was a ruin of scars. Something had gnawed her nose off at some point.


    ¡°Well, well. What a delightful surprise.¡± The dwarf rasped. ¡°I am called Alasie. I like my humans tenderized and medium rare.¡±

 Chapter 29

    The female dwarf with a hole in place of her nose and crazy eyes was staring at Oak and licking her lips.


    ¡°Right,¡± Oak said. ¡°Nice flute you got there, Alasie. Do you mind if I feed it to you, sideways?¡±


    The dwarf giggled. ¡°Naughty, naughty. Such vulgar promises. A girl could get excited!¡±


    Oak widened his stance. Alasie leaned forward. They moved at the same time. Oak dodged to the left and vanished between the shelves just as Alasie let out a note from her flute, and a wave of force struck the stone floor where he had been standing. He ran as fast as he could, but he could tell it would not be enough to get away. The stomping of large feet followed in his wake as the gigantic tome charged after him, pages shuffling and cover snapping open and shut in a steady beat.


    Right, left, right, left. Oak took turns and juked between shelves, trying to make some distance between him and his enemies so he could come up with a working plan. A shelf behind him cracked and burst apart in a shower of books and paper as Alasie bombarded him with spells.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Oak screamed. ¡°Leave me alone, you demented bitch.¡± A smaller book jumped at him from the top of a bookshelf, maw open wide and ready to take a bite out of him. He cut the book in half with a swing of his falchion. ¡°By the Chariot!¡±


    Another spell struck a bookshelf next to him. This time, it came from a different direction and collided with the top of the shelf, causing it to tip over. He cursed and dove forward to get past the falling bookshelf, barely sliding out of harm''s way.


    Coughing dust out of his lungs, Oak looked back at the destruction wrought by the dwarven mage. The giant tome came running out of the dust cloud and jumped over the fallen bookshelf, tongue flopping in the air as it descended towards him.


    There was no time for fancy maneuvers. Oak scrambled away from over a thousand pounds of hardcover, falling at his face, and called on his Boon of Pyromancy. Flames leapt from his fingers and crashed against the tome, setting it alight.


    The giant book let out a crackling screech and stumbled against a bookshelf, causing all the books residing in it to run away from the flames, little feet flapping on the stone floor.


    Oak pumped his fist in triumph, when suddenly the ceiling flashed and water rained on the tome, putting out the fire. He could only stare in stupefied amazement as the gigantic tome gathered itself and turned back towards him. It looked furious.


    ¡°This is some absolute bullshit,¡± Oak said, and took off as fast as his legs could carry him. The tome screeched in rage and followed.


    Running full tilt, he turned another corner. His eyes widened. Alasie was sitting on a bookshelf, her flute aimed straight at him. The spell struck him in the legs and sent him flying backwards down the corridor between the shelves.


    ¡°By the dead.¡± Oak moaned. He had finally rolled to a stop, and he felt like an ox had stomped over him. Twice. He shook his head. It only made his nausea worse, so he stopped doing it and struggled back to his feet.


    Alasie was hopping towards him again, ready to sling another spell his way, and the giant tome had just emerged from between the shelves. It was not looking good. Another smaller book chose that moment to jump at Oak¡¯s face, teeth clicking and tiny legs still running as it flew through the air. He watched it fly towards him and got an idea.


    Just as the book was about to latch on to Oak¡¯s cheek and start chewing, his hand snapped up and caught the book, pressing it closed. He spun around and threw the book right at Alasie¡¯s surprised face. Apparently, the book was not shy about its chosen dinner, since it grabbed onto the dwarf¡¯s cheek with all of its tiny might, and started chewing.


    With a scream that sounded like music to Oak¡¯s ears, Alasie fell from the top of the bookshelf she had been running on and crashed beyond his sight. Elated as he was, Oak had no time for celebration. The giant tome was charging at him like an angry bull, thick chicken legs bringing it forward with deceptive speed.


    This time, Oak ran to meet his enemy. The excitement of battle was in him now, and blood was rushing in his ears. That did not mean he had gotten careless. Seeing through sound was extremely helpful in such a chaotic environment and in his mind¡¯s eye, he could see another small book coming at him from the side. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Without even slowing down, he bisected the thing, and kept on running.


    The giant tome leaped towards Oak, tongue reaching out to meet him. It was a mistake. As the monstrous book flew through the air, it could no longer change its trajectory. Oak cast a burst of flames in its open maw and dropped into a slide, passing under the book. With a single swing of his falchion, he cut off one of the tome¡¯s chicken legs.


    The monster crashed down and immediately lost its balance. It fell over like a drunken sailor after a long bar crawl. Oak was on the thing in a flash, hacking at the book¡¯s cover with all of his considerable strength.


    All was well until a sledgehammer of telekinetic force struck Oak in the ribs and he was flung aside like a bag of grain. He crashed right into a bookshelf with such force the entire thing fell over in a mighty racket, sending books flying every which way.


    Alasie walked through the resulting dust cloud. She was chewing on something and emitting disgusting crunching sounds. Oak looked at her mouth and quickly snapped his gaze to the dwarf¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Are you eating your own finger?¡± Oak asked. He stared at the dwarf in utter bafflement.


    Alasie shrugged. ¡°Waste not, want not,¡± she said, and kept on chewing. ¡°That book you threw at me was a true fighter.¡±


    ¡°So it seems.¡± Oak winced. He was quite sure his ribs would have felt better if someone had actually been striking them with a sledgehammer.


    Alasie brought the flute to her lips. ¡°Any last words before I start hammering your skull through the stone floor?¡±


    Now would be a fantastic time for a bit of an intervention. Ur-Namma? Geezer? Where are those lazy fucks?


    ¡°Is that the only spell you know?¡± Oak asked. ¡°It¡¯s just, well, I haven¡¯t seen you cast anything else, and it would be great to have some variety?¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s not the only spell I know! My dad taught me plenty of spells between the whippings.¡± Alasie huffed. She leaned forward, eyes wide and glinting with insanity. ¡°It¡¯s just my favorite.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. I¡¯m sure it is a perfectly good spell. Nothing wrong with an old reliable.¡± Oak said. ¡°But it does not really have any panache, does it?¡±


    ¡°What is panache?¡± Alasie asked, brows furrowed in suspicion.


    ¡°Style, flair! It could use some bells and whistles, don¡¯t you think?¡± Oak asked. ¡°I mean, there is not a lot of color in it. No flames or lightning. I am just saying that I think you could do better.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I could. I could do better!¡± Alasie shouted, voice shaking with excitement. ¡°What if I¨C?¡±


    Oak smiled. Finally.


    Ur-Namma stepped into view behind Alasie and stabbed the dwarf through the heart.


    Alasie¡¯s mouth opened in shock, and she stumbled forward and to the side, staring at the length of steel piercing her chest. The flute tumbled from her fingers and dropped to the floor with a clang. She tried to reach behind herself, searching for the handle of the blade, before she collapsed to the ground and lay still.


    In the same breath, Geezer had ambushed the giant tome, and the hellhound was ripping the struggling monster''s tongue off. The slimy muscle came apart with a resounding snap. Geezer did not waste any time and tried to drag the monster around by its remaining leg, biting and chewing all the while.


    Oak stood up and walked over to Geezer and the bookmonster. He might have missed out on the dwarf¡¯s soul, but this one he would claim for his engine. He brought the falchion high and started chopping. By the fifth strike, he severed the book¡¯s thick spine and the monster¡¯s twitching seized.


    A notification flashed in Oak¡¯s vision.


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    + 3 Souls


    + 1 Fuel


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    Silence filled the library. Oak stumbled back and leaned against a shelf. Everything hurt and the wound on his shoulder was bleeding again.


    ¡°Now, I don¡¯t want to sound ungrateful Ur-Namma. But what the hell took you so long?¡± Oak asked.


    Ur-Namma blushed a little. ¡°I tripped,¡± the elf muttered.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I tripped,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°It took a while for me to get back on my feet. You should be grateful I managed it at all, considering you were getting your ass beat like a drum.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you take that back!¡± Oak said, feigning outrage, but he could not hide his grin.


    It was good to be alive.

 Chapter 30

    Geezer was about to take a bite out of Alasie¡¯s corpse when Oak pulled him away from the fallen dwarf.


    ¡°No Geezer, we will not defile the corpse of a dwarf,¡± he said.


    At least not on purpose. Accidents happen to everyone.


    ¡°He is right, mutt,¡± Ur-Namma said, and knelt next to the corpse.


    The hellhound looked at them both quizzically. Oak knelt and examined Alasie¡¯s corpse. In death, the female dwarf seemed small and frail. A body ravaged by hunger and littered with scars. Now that the madness had left her, she looked almost relieved as she lay there on the library¡¯s stone floor in a pool of blood.


    ¡°It is likely no dwarf alive today has lived even a single moment without the curse of Azidahaka flowing through their veins. May Alasie find rest in whatever Heaven or Hell has claim to her soul,¡± Ur-Namma said and closed the corpse''s eyes. ¡°Go with grace, dear dwarf. You are a daughter of heroes.¡±


    The futility of it all weighed on Oak as he stared at Alasie¡¯s ruined face. She never had a chance. An entire life ruined long before she was even born, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. He was surprised to find how much it offended him.


    Oak had always had a choice, while the dwarves had none.


    What a horrible fate. Never any choices. Only the tyranny of consequences and the weight of history written by the hands of others.


    It made him shiver.


    Ur-Namma stood back up, knees creaking like rusty hinges. ¡°We should keep moving. It is only a matter of¡ª¡±


    A frigid cold spread through the Waking Dream around them, and Ur-Namma stumbled. ¡°Dive. Now!¡± the elf hissed, and dove to the Dream. Oak followed in his wake.


    Diving to the Dream always felt like breaching the icy surface of a lake in the middle of winter. This dive felt colder still. Oak gasped for breath as the freezing currents of the Unreal Sea caressed his form. Unblinking eyeballs lined every surface of the library¡¯s twin in the Dream, and pages from books had been nailed to the walls, each nail blinding an eye and dripping with black fluid. Paper fluttered in the air.


    If Oak felt the entry to the Dream in his bones, Ur-Namma seemed to feel it in his very soul. The elf screamed when the echoes of pain and suffering tried to shred him to pieces.


    ¡°My subjects.¡± He cried. ¡°Oh God in Heaven.¡±


    Oak turned towards the elf and was taken aback by Ur-Namma¡¯s dream form. Here, the old elf was as he should be. A sleek, muscular warrior dressed in elegant white robes with long silver hair and glowing eyes. The strength of his soul permeated the very air around him, pushing back the unrelenting cold. Oak felt a touch of warmth just from standing in his presence.


    In front of them stood a figure who looked a lot like Ur-Namma and yet was utterly alien in its nature. It had the visage of a pale elf, but unlike the general, this elf radiated a cold that brought with it memories of the deepest winters and howling snowstorms. The elf wore full-plate and brandished a spear. Ur-Namma gathered himself and faced their adversary.


    ¡°A wraith of a Librarian,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I should have known.¡±


    Oak felt doubt creeping in the back of his mind. ¡°How fucked are we?¡± he asked.


    Ur-Namma grinned, but the expression felt forced. ¡°In normal circumstances, you would be very dead indeed. But alas, I am here.¡±


    The wraith readied itself for a charge, when Ur-Namma¡¯s voice boomed in the Dream, shaking the walls of the library.


    ¡°How dare you strike your sovereign! Stand down your arms, Librarian. Even in death, you owe me your allegiance,¡± said Ur-Namma of the Tribe of Shara, and the wraith stopped in its tracks.


    The wraith knelt in reverence and spoke with a voice filled with awe: ¡°My general. Forgive me. I did not see you for who you were.¡±


    ¡°Rise Librarian. No harm was done, and all is forgiven. I have questions for you,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Are the upper levels of the Imperial Library secure?¡±


    The Librarian seemed confused. ¡°They must be? Or¡­or maybe not. I don¡¯t remember,¡± the wraith said.


    ¡°No matter. You have done well. Stand at attention and wait for my orders, Librarian,¡± Ur-Namma said and turned to Oak. ¡°Do you want him?¡±


    ¡°Back up a bit. What the fuck is a wraith?¡± Oak asked.


    Ur-Namma sighed. ¡°It is an unnaturally powerful ghost, which has kept itself together and accumulated some level of strength. They come into being when a theurgist dives the Dream and can¡¯t find their way back to their own body for one reason or another,¡± he said and gestured towards the wraith. ¡°So, want him or not? He could be very useful since you could let him out to watch over you when you don¡¯t need him to power your wards.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Sure. How do you want to do this?¡± Oak asked. His wards had taken a beating during his time in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah and getting some replenishment sounded great.


    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± Ur-Namma said and addressed the wraith once more: ¡°Librarian. My friend here will take you with us. The Empire needs your strength. Do not resist him.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, general,¡± the Librarian said and stood still while Oak approached.


    Oak grasped the Librarian''s icy shoulder and absorbed the wraith. In no time at all, the wraith had passed inside his mind and vanished from the Waking Dream. Oak quickly slotted him in to power his wards and sighed in relief. It felt nice to not have to rely on a single ghost to shield his mind.


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    + 1 Ghost


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    </table>


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here,¡± Ur-Namma¡¯s dream form said, before the elf vanished.


    Oak did not linger in the Dream either, and dove out. Geezer was waiting for them in the real world, looking at their fallen forms with worry. The hellhound kept poking them with his snout until Oak and Ur-Namma convinced the dog of their continued wellbeing.


    To be fair to Geezer, suddenly collapsing was usually not healthy behavior.


    As fast as they could, Oak,Geezer and Ur-Namma retrieved Oak¡¯s rucksack from behind the counter where the battle had started and made their way to the stairs.


    In the towering heights of the Imperial Library, Aiobheann¡¯s vault awaited them.


    ***


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to insult you or the fine people who built this place. I am just saying you could have told me the ceiling was enchanted to sprinkle water on every open flame in the library,¡± Oak said, as he climbed up the stairs. ¡°Especially when the only offensive power I have at my disposal is to conjure flames.¡±


    ¡°I forgot. When I realized what had happened, I almost fell over again from sheer amusement,¡± Ur-Namma responded.


    ¡°At least someone is having fun. You can be a right bastard, you know that, right?¡± Oak whispered.


    ¡°Do I ever,¡± Ur-Namma said and his smile showed way too many needle-sharp teeth.


    ¡°Please put away that toothy abomination,¡± Oak pleaded. ¡°I already have nightmares, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you are so surprised, anyway. It makes perfect sense to protect a body of knowledge as vast as this library against a fire,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Easy for you to say. I have never even been inside a library before,¡± Oak whispered before he could stop himself.


    ¡°Oh, is our itty bitty barbarian uneducated,¡± Ur-Namma teased. ¡°I could not have guessed.¡±


    ¡°Why did I say that out loud?¡± Oak said and rubbed his face in irritation.


    They arrived on the second floor, and Oak¡¯s hopes of a quick ascent to the top floor dashed. The stairs leading to the third floor were blocked with furniture, stone blocks, and random debris. There was no way they would ever get through that.


    Oak poked his head out of the staircase, searching for danger. What he found was much stranger than he had expected. It seemed like the entire second floor of the Imperial Library had been transformed into a mushroom farm. Every single bookshelf Oak could see had been converted to a growing platform for some type of brownish green mushroom.


    Ur-Namma seemed as taken aback as Oak when he laid eyes on the dwarves'' agricultural operation. ¡°Well. Now we know what they have been eating,¡± the elf said, shaking his head in dismay. ¡°All the books housed here are assuredly lost.¡±


    A section of the ceiling in the very back of the hall glowed and a splatter of rain fell down out of sight. ¡°Seems like we don¡¯t have to guess where they got the water to grow all of this, huh,¡± Oak whispered. ¡°Good job with the enchanted ceiling, ay?¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°If I remember correctly, there should be another staircase on the other side. I don¡¯t fancy the idea of crossing the entire floor, but I don¡¯t think we have a choice.¡±


    Since neither Oak nor Ur-Namma could see any other way forward, the three of them ventured inside the dwarven mushroom farm.


    The air was more humid on the second floor than it had been on the first, which seemed counterintuitive to Oak. Shouldn¡¯t moisture flow downwards? That¡¯s how he had always understood things. Nevertheless, due to no doubt some dwarven fuckery, the second floor was a wet and misty paradise for mushrooms and mold, while the floor below was a perfectly dry and functional library.


    They had walked among the mushrooms for maybe ten heartbeats, and Oak already hated it all with a passion. The stone floor was clammy and with every step, a layer of slime and mold clung to his boots, dragging his feet downwards. He was not the only one having second thoughts. Geezer was staring at the bottom of his right front paw with a look of visible disgust on his doggy face.


    ¡°I have slime between my toes.¡± Ur-Namma wailed in a low voice. ¡°If I fall over, will you just kill me, please?¡±


    Oak instantly felt a little better. ¡°I forgot you were wearing sandals,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°I would like to forget that as well,¡± Ur-Namma replied. The elf walked with exaggerated care, trying to make sure he would not have to lean on anything for support.


    A series of thumps sounded up ahead and a bit to the right of their current position, barely outside of the range of Oak¡¯s magical echolocation. ¡°Do you hear that?¡± he whispered to Ur-Namma.


    The elf nodded. ¡°Describe it, when you can sense it,¡± he said and drew his longsword.


    The thumps got closer and closer until Oak could make out a hazy image. By the Chariot. What is that thing?


    He leaned close to Ur-Namma and whispered: ¡°It¡¯s about as tall as two men put together and shaped a bit like an ogre. The head looks like a mushroom cap. I feel silly saying this, but it is a giant mushroom man.¡±


    Ur-Namma nodded. ¡°Peculiar. I was never very interested in dwarven mushroom farming, so I do not know if this is normal or not. I suggest we try to avoid it.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me,¡± Oak whispered.


    They walked to the end of the row they were on and turned left, trying to get some distance from the mushroom man ahead of them so they could sneak past it. The hallway between the corridors of shelves was cloaked in fog and mist, obstructing sight and sound. The world felt muted here, like things were much farther away than they really were.


    Oak led Ur-Namma and Geezer past five corridors of bookshelves before he took a right turn and instantly ran into another mushroom man, which had been sitting still against a bookshelf.


    No sound from Oak or his companions had reached this blind-spot with enough strength to bounce back to him, and the mushroom man himself had made no sound at all, which meant there had been nothing to hear.


    Well, shit, Oak thought, and reflexively set the mushroom monster on fire.

 Chapter 31

    The mushroom man did not move a muscle, or anything else, for that matter.


    Oak was not an expert on mushroom monster anatomy, but he would have expected at least some kind of reaction from the thing when he set its brown face on fire.


    ¡°It is already dead, as in, it is a corpse.¡± Ur-Namma sighed. The ceiling above them all flashed and a torrent of rain fell on them and the flaming mushroom. The elf gave Oak a withering glare. ¡°Are you done?¡±


    Oak rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. ¡°I didn¡¯t notice, all right. I just acted.¡±


    ¡°I can see that. I can feel it too.¡° Ur-Namma hissed. He looked at his wet robes like one might look at a dead puppy and trudged on, slime squishing between his toes.


    Geezer shook himself dry, spraying water everywhere for good measure.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, okay,¡± Oak whispered. ¡°I fucked up.¡±


    ¡°I know. For what it''s worth, I¡¯m sorry too, for losing my temper,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I¡¯m a bit on edge here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Oak said. ¡°I almost killed you yesterday, so I can¡¯t complain.¡±


    They left the sitting corpse of a charred showroom behind them and kept walking. Oak was a bit on edge himself now, and he tried to listen for any sign of movement as they made their way through the mushroom farm. Every hallway crossing was a harrowing experience and, at every point, Oak expected something to go wrong, but nothing did. No monster assailed them from the fog.


    Silence stretched between the three of them and no one was inclined to break it, lest something stalking in the shadows of the farm heard them. They had to be close to the middle of the massive library hall when they heard the screaming.


    ¡°That has to be a dwarf, right?¡± Oak asked. The screams barely pierced the muted atmosphere, but they were clearly coming from the center of the hall.


    ¡°Sounds like it to me,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°We should have a look, but let''s not get too close.¡±


    ***


    Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma poked their heads from behind the cover of a bookshelf overgrown with mushrooms, and examined the strange scene before them.


    The center of the hall had been cleared, and now it housed a small square. In the middle of that square was a fire, crackling along merrily, unbothered by the enchanted ceiling above. The moving flame made shadows dance on the filthy stone floor, which was covered in wooden detritus, discarded weapons and bones of the former denizens of The City of God.


    There were three figures in the square. A short and stocky male dwarf, dressed in a fine black coat and leather boots that were too big for his feet, was holding an iron poker in the fire and cackling. Behind him was another male dwarf, nailed to a cross.


    The dwarf on the cross was quite fat, and he had a huge nose and a long, unkempt beard. He was almost completely naked, and horrific burns wracked his body. The dwarf in the black coat lifted the hot iron from the fire and pressed it against his victim''s stomach. Flesh sizzled.


    The dwarf on the cross let out a sound that began as a scream of pain and morphed into hysterical laughter as it went on. Oak was transfixed. He could not bear to look at it and yet he could not look away either. Finally, the torturer pulled the hot iron away, and the dwarf nailed to the cross let out a wheezing breath, gasping for air.


    ¡°What is good for the goose is good for the gander,¡± the fat dwarf on the cross said.


    ¡°Oh, that is right. So right,¡± the dwarf with the poker said and put it back in the fire. ¡°Should I do it? Should I?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, yes!¡± a shrill voice shouted. A young looking female dwarf dressed in a light blue frilly dress clapped her hands together excitedly. She had a cute button nose, and she was sitting on a box, watching the torture with rapt attention.


    When the torturer judged that the poker was sufficiently hot, he lifted the glowing metal from the fire. Slowly, almost lovingly, the dwarf aimed it at his own eye and stabbed. The screams which followed were horrific.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    It was too much. Oak looked away. He felt like throwing up. Even now, his boon still painted a rough version of the scene of madness to his mind and he heard all of it. He heard it, as the dwarf''s eye popped and the liquid inside was turned into steam. He heard the dwarf¡¯s screams turn into gurgles and he heard the clang as the poker dropped to the stone floor.


    By Ashmadei¡¯s lance. By the Corpse in the Highest Heaven. What the fuck is this?


    Oak spared a glance towards his companions. All color had left Ur-Namma¡¯s face. The elf was holding onto the bookshelf, heedless of the mold and grime staining his hands. Geezer¡¯s tail was between his legs and the hellhound was backing away, ears flat against his skull.


    The dwarf who had just stabbed a hot iron through his own eye dropped to his knees, panting for breath.


    The child clapped her hands together again, and shouted: ¡°Good show, very good show indeed, sir Kallik!¡±


    ¡°Yes. Impressive,¡± the dwarf on the cross said. ¡°Almost sublime.¡±


    ¡°Almost sublime? Almost!¡± Kallik roared. ¡°I put out my eye, you old fuck and you call that almost sublime? It was a masterpiece, that¡¯s what that was!¡±


    ¡°Well, it was great, don¡¯t get me wrong, Kallik,¡± the dwarf on the cross said. ¡°The scream was amateurish, but other than that, it was perfect, really. What do you say, young Yura?¡±


    The child, who presumably was Yura, tapped her chin. ¡°I guess you are right, Toklo. The scream had an amateurish feel to it,¡± she said.


    ¡°Amateurish. Amateurish! You know what, Toklo. I think you need some time with the hot iron. Maybe you¡¯ll appreciate my art more afterwards,¡± Kallik said, and shoved the poker back into the fire. Mad giggles and drool spilled from his lips.


    When Oak thought back to that moment, he could not remember which of them had backed away first, but as Kallik pulled the glowing iron from the fire and started aiming it at Toklo¡¯s right eye, Ur-Namma and Oak turned around and fled. That was the truth of it. He sneaked away, heart pounding and shivers going down his spine.


    For a long time, they walked in the shadows of the shelves, and no one said a thing. Oak kept running what he had seen through his head and every time he ended in the same place. On that square, right now, was a dwarf child. The pace of his walking slowed down every time that thought landed in his head, and his hand twitched towards the falchion on his hip, but he just kept walking.


    He just kept walking.


    It felt like an age had passed by the time they reached the stairs on the other side of the hall. Oak looked at the stairs, but he felt no relief or excitement. A child, Oak thought. A child. He let out a shaky sigh and took the first step up the stairs. Ur-Namma grabbed his hand.


    ¡°I can¡¯t bear it, Oak,¡± Ur-Namma said. His hand was sweaty, and it gripped Oak¡¯s arm like a claw. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but if I climb up those stairs, I will shatter to pieces.¡±


    Oak looked Ur-Namma in the eye. ¡°It¡¯s the child, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°It is a risk. We could just keep going and head for the vault,¡± Oak said. He felt like he was standing on a ledge in front of a great fall, looking down at the rocky ground below. There was a wind at his back, whispering in his ear. It told him to jump.


    ¡°I know. Believe me, I know. Vengeance fuels me. But that is not all that I am. Please,¡± Ur-Namma begged.


    Of all the things we could run into, we had to run into a child. As was often the case, when he could not figure out the right course of action, Oak¡¯s thoughts turned to his father. What would the old man have done in my position? He turned the thought around and around inside his head until he found the answer waiting in his heart. It had been there all along.


    Oak closed his eyes and thought of the summers of his childhood. Gone were the days of innocent joy and yet he could remember how the sun had warmed his face. Is a thing lost if you could still feel the echo of it?


    ¡°You know what? I wished you would say something like that,¡± Oak said, and turned around. ¡°We are going back.¡±


    Ur-Namma bowed his head in thanks. ¡°I am honored to call you a friend. I¡¯m not much of a fighter at the moment, so it falls on you and Geezer to get it done. Do you understand what I am asking you to do?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I understand,¡± Oak said and cracked his neck. ¡°Let''s get to it. As my old man used to say, indecision and delay are the parents of failure.¡±


    ¡°Quite a man, that father of yours, wasn¡¯t he,¡± Ur-Namma muttered.


    ¡°The best. He had a way with words. Always knew what to say and who to say it to,¡± Oak said. ¡°Can¡¯t say I inherited that gift. But I guess there is nothing special about that. In their own way, all men live in their father''s shadow.¡±


    ¡°I never had a father, so I can¡¯t comment on that. A rare occasion where I must trust your expertise,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Hah. I¡¯ll try not to get used to it,¡± Oak said, and started walking back towards the square in the middle of the hall. Ur-Namma and Geezer followed at his heels and soon the three of them vanished among the misty corridors of the mushroom farm.

 Chapter 32

    Oak took a deep breath. It was time. Hesitation is death. He sprang from behind a bookshelf and charged straight into the square, falchion held high.


    Yura never had a chance. The child barely had time to turn around on the box she was still sitting on, and look Oak in the eye, before he reached her and swung. She has Alasie¡¯s eyes. If heartbreak could kill, he would have surely died on the spot as he cut off Yura¡¯s head and stepped past her.


    ¡°Hahaa, how prettily the head tumbles!¡± Toklo laughed. The cross the fat dwarf had been nailed to wavered a bit as he bent downwards, chuckling. The light of the campfire revealed the newly made ruin of his right eye, oozing blood down his burned cheek.


    Kallik picked up an axe and calmly turned to face Oak. His single eye glinted in the fire''s light, and there was a demented smirk on his scarred face. While the dwarf focused on the threat in front of him, Geezer took him by surprise.


    The hellhound came running from the darkness outside the firelight and tackled the dwarf down to the floor. Geezer closed his jaws around the hand holding the axe and started dragging the dwarf around, never giving him a chance to get back up.


    Oak was running around the campfire in the middle of the square, towards the pair struggling on the ground, but he was not fast enough. Quick as a snake, Kallik pulled out a long knife and slashed Geezer in the snout. The dog yelped in pain and let go of the dwarf, who jumped to his feet and launched himself straight at Oak, axe ready to split his skull.


    In the span of two heartbeats, Oak was on the back foot. Kallik was like a whirlwind of steel with his axe and knife. Everywhere Oak¡¯s blade went, Kallik was there no longer, and death stalked Oak from every angle. He jumped backwards to get some space for himself. Kallik made it seem like he was going to follow. It turned out to be a feint.


    ¡°Geezer, no!¡± Oak shouted, but it was too late. The dog was already in the air, flying towards Kallik¡¯s back. Instead of charging after Oak, Kallik turned and sank his knife between Geezer¡¯s ribs as the hellhound flew past him. Kallik held on to the blade, and it ripped out of the wound, sending blood gushing from Geezer¡¯s side.


    The dog crashed onto the stone and slid across the floor, wheezing for breath.


    ¡°Ur-Namma, help him!¡± Oak roared and charged the dwarf.


    Geezer is a hellhound, he is going to live, Oak thought, trying to hold the fear at bay. He had to keep Kallik busy or Geezer was finished. Since the ceiling above the square did not seem to care about fire, he tried to set the dwarf ablaze with a burst of flame.


    Kallik was not fazed. The dwarf dodged like he had seen the attack coming from a mile away, and closed in, drool spilling from his open mouth full of rotting teeth. It was a disgusting sight. A short clash of steel later, Oak pressed Kallik back with all the fury he could summon, and there was no time to waste on thoughts of revulsion.


    No matter how hard Oak tried to break through Kallik¡¯s guard, he could not touch the dwarf with his blade. One moment Kallik was like a mountain, unyielding and beyond any attempt to chop him down. The next he was like wind, flowing around Oak¡¯s strikes like he was not even there. Soon, it was not Kallik who was stepping backwards towards the edge of the square.


    Oak could hear Ur-Namma¡¯s uncertain gait enter the square and through the waves of sound bouncing around, he could see the elf kneel next to Geezer, and start helping the dog towards the crucified form of Toklo. Oak would have liked nothing more than being able to help Geezer by himself, but he trusted Ur-Namma to figure it out without him and focused on the fight.


    The dwarf combined two of Oak¡¯s least favorite traits in any combatant.


    One, he was a dwarf. Oak had quickly learned to hate fighting dwarves, for good reason. They held nothing back. Kallik took tremendous risks every chance he could. Without fail, he would leave himself open, if it meant he could try to sink his axe into Oak¡¯s chest. The dwarves were not trying to win. They fought to kill you, and they did not give a fuck if they died in the process.


    Second, Kallik was better than Oak. The dwarf was a bit faster, sure, but not that much faster. Kallik also had way less reach, since he was short, and he was using a knife and a single-handed war axe, while Oak might have been the tallest man in all the North and he wielded a two-handed sword. Kallik just moved like no one Oak had ever fought. He either deflected every strike Oak attempted with his axe blade, which was devilishly difficult to do, or he simply was not there when Oak struck.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Oak hated fighting people who were better than him. Oak hated fighting dwarves. He was fighting Kallik, and he was going to lose. He made some room with two quick swings and then held the point of his falchion towards Kallik to keep him at bay for a moment.


    I need to figure something out, or I am dead. The sweat running down his back was turning cold.


    More by instinct than any well thought out plan, Oak circled into Kallik¡¯s new blind-spot. The destroyed and burned eye socket turned into a lighthouse, guiding Oak¡¯s every step as he circled left.


    ¡°Ooh, an elf has joined the party! How¡¯s it hanging, you pointy eared¨C,¡± Toklo said before his words were cut short and Oak could only hear wet gurgling. Ur-Namma was not wasting time.


    If Oak was good at something, he was good at picking his moment. He kept circling Kallik, forcing the dwarf to step into his blind-spot over and over again, waiting for the mistake. Vaguely, Oak could hear heavy steps approaching the square, but he could not afford to look away from the dwarf.


    Those sounds were future Oak¡¯s problem.


    After another exchange of blows, which almost ended with Kallik¡¯s knife being buried in Oak¡¯s stomach, the dwarf finally slipped up. Kallik could not see the ground on his right from his peripheral vision. The dwarf stepped on top of a broken piece of bookshelf and it rolled under his foot, causing him to lose his balance.


    Oak capitalized and took off Kallik''s right arm above the elbow joint. Blood spurted from the stump and Kallik let out a little sigh, like he was a kettle losing steam. For the first time since the fight began, Kallik spoke.


    ¡°You got me good, human. You really did,¡± Kallik said. His working eye was still twinkling, like there was a joke being said that only he could understand.


    ¡°You think so?¡± Oak asked and pointed his sword at the dwarf.


    ¡°I know so,¡± Kallik said and charged forward, impaling himself on Oak¡¯s blade and stabbing his knife through Oak¡¯s left forearm. The dwarf grinned at Oak¡¯s dumbfounded face as he finally realized those heavy steps were almost on top of them.


    ¡°You absolute rat-bastard,¡± Oak said, as the giant mushroom man burst through the bookshelf on their left and struck the pair of them like an angry bull-moose.


    Oak was not quite sure what happened in the next few moments, but they involved a lot of flying and crashing against things. He came to, lying on the stone floor of the square, and tried to desperately draw in all the breath he had lost from his lungs.


    Feeling like he had just lost a boxing match against an ogre, Oak sat up and looked around. Kallik was laying a couple feet to his left. The dwarf had Oak¡¯s falchion sticking out from his chest, and his body was bent strangely. It looked like his spine had broken. Good riddance.


    Sadly, there was no time to rest on one¡¯s laurels. The mushroom man announced his continued presence by wailing like a banshee, and reaching for Oak with his long, thick arms. Since he had no intention of letting the thing smear him across the square, he cast a cone of bright red flames at the mushroom¡¯s face and crawled backwards as fast as he was able.


    The mushroom man shrieked and started slapping its own face, trying to smother the flames.


    With the monster occupied for the moment, Oak felt safe enough to try standing up. He had mixed success. Getting to his feet went mostly alright, but once he was standing, all talk of balance was out the window. He stumbled around like a drunken man, desperately trying to stay on his feet.


    When his world stopped spinning, Oak pulled out his meat cleaver and short sword and took stock of the situation.


    Yura was dead, and her headless corpse lay on the other side of the square. Kallik''s broken body rested on the stone floor. Ur-Namma had slit Toklo¡¯s throat and leaned against the cross while Geezer was currently eating the dwarf¡¯s feet.


    The hellhound looked like he was not about to keel over and die, which meant the elf had gotten some meat inside Geezer¡¯s stomach in time. The mushroom man, on the other hand, looked ready to throw down.


    ¡°Right,¡± Oak said, and tried not to throw up. ¡°Come here, you dickless fuck.¡±


    Oak could not tell if the monster understood him or if it was just reading the tone of his voice, but whatever it was, it seemed to get the message. With its arms spread wide, the mushroom man charged. He wobbled forward to meet it.


    At the last possible moment, Oak threw himself out of the stomping monster''s way and called for the fire inside his soul. It answered and spewed forth from his hands, covering the mushroom man¡¯s right side in bright flame. This time, the fire took hold.


    The monster screeched and rolled on the ground, desperate to put out the flames eating its spongy flesh.


    In a stroke of luck for Oak and his companions, the mushroom man accidentally rolled into the campfire, which sealed its fate. Soon the twitching monster laid still and the only sounds in the square were the crackling of the fire and the crunching sound of Geezer gnawing on Toklo¡¯s left leg.


    His engine chimed with a notification.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 3 Souls


    + 3 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Distractedly, Oak noticed that Kallik¡¯s knife was still sticking out of his forearm. He pulled it free and promptly passed out.

 Chapter 33

    When Oak woke up, the stab wound on his left forearm had been tied with a piece of cloth, and Ur-Namma was sitting right next to him with a bottle of water.


    ¡°I hate fighting dwarves.¡± Oak croaked. ¡°Please give me a drink of that.¡±


    Ur-Namma passed the bottle to Oak, eye fixed on the campfire. There was a sad air about him, and yet Oak could sense the elf was also proud. He sat straighter, almost like an unseen weight had been lifted from his shoulders.


    ¡°Geezer!¡± He hollered.


    The hellhound trotted into view and sat next to Oak, tongue lolling out of his mouth. There was no sign a dwarf had stabbed him a short while ago. The dog looked right as rain.


    ¡°You gave me quite a scare,¡± Oak murmured, and stroked Geezer¡¯s coarse fur. It seemed like the hellhound had forgiven him, at least for the moment. They all sat there for a while in companionable silence, until Oak¡¯s eyes landed on Yura¡¯s severed head, which had rolled a few feet away from her corpse.


    ¡°She had Alasie¡¯s eyes,¡± Oak whispered.


    ¡°Ah. That is the tragedy of the dwarves. A horror that cannot help but renew itself. A mother passes the madness to her daughter. A father passes it to his son. Azidahaka has heaped sorrow upon generation after generation,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Believe me, Yura¡¯s soul is better off in dreamless sleep inside your infernal engine. A soul without a body cannot experience pain inside creation.¡±


    ¡°I guess so. She will go to her afterlife when I die. Even though it might have been the right thing to do, it does not feel pure,¡± Oak muttered.


    ¡°Pure?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°I gained from her death. Can an act be selfless in nature, if you benefit from it?¡± Oak asked?. ¡°I think something is lost.¡±


    Ur-Namma had a strange look on his face. ¡°Of all the savages in the world, Ashmadei sent a philosopher to rescue me,¡± the elf said, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°Though I admit your words ring true. There is an idea there worth exploring, but maybe it could wait until we have escaped beyond the boundaries of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. You might be right. It could be difficult to write a treatise while on the move like this,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Well, now I know you aren¡¯t seriously injured, since the bad jokes have already started,¡± Ur-Namma said and stood up. ¡°Help me with the corpses. We need to get the rest of the fat one down from that cross.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I have a great sense of humor,¡± Oak said and struggled up to a standing position. The world spun a bit, but he did not fall over. He considered this a success.


    ¡°I doubt people with a great sense of humor need to explain what a great sense of humor they have,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    This left Oak stumped, so he ignored it and soldier on. Hesitation is death, after all. He followed Ur-Namma to the cross that Toklo had been crucified to. The dwarf¡¯s left leg from the knee down had ended up in Geezer¡¯s belly, but the rest of Toklo was still drooping from the cross.


    ¡°I feel bad about all this,¡± Ur-Namma said and gestured towards the missing leg. ¡°Needs must and all that, but I wish there had been another way to save Geezer.¡±


    ¡°No use crying over spilled milk,¡± Oak said. ¡°Should we burn the corpses? A pyre seems fitting.¡±


    ¡°That was my idea. I will let you do the honors, since my back would probably snap in two if I tried to lift a dwarf,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    And that is how Oak ended up dumping the corpses of Toklo, Yura and Kallik in the campfire. It was an arduous process, since he could not use his wounded left hand, but he made do. He threw the pieces of Toklo¡¯s cross on top of the smoldering corpse pile and brought over some broken bookshelves to make sure the fire had enough fuel.


    A proper pyre needed to burn hot, and it needed to do so for a long time. Oak was not in the business of half measures.


    When the pyre was hot and large enough for his taste, the three of them gathered in front of it.


    Ur-Namma cleared his throat and recited a lament for the fallen dwarves:


    ¡°You have known affliction under the rod of petty wrath.


    Madness has worn away your flesh,


    Lunacy has broken your bones.


    You have been left to dwell in the dark places,


    Besieged with hardship.


    You have been sated with bitterness,


    Filled with wormwood.


    Too long was your sorrow and toil,


    Too high was the price paid with your flesh.


    Now you are freed from this mortal coil.¡±


    Ur-Namma placed a fist over his own heart. His eyes were wet with tears.


    ¡°Take heart. Acts of mercy are not yet exhausted. Compassion is not spent.


    Because of the Mother, we do not perish in the dark. Her miracles never fail.


    Your souls shall soar to the halls of your ancestors and find their rest.


    May king Taliriktug himself welcome you home.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    While Ur-Namma had spoken, a lump had formed inside Oak¡¯s throat that refused to go away. When he had picked up Yura¡¯s corpse, he had gotten a good look at the child¡¯s arms. They had been absolutely covered in scars. Her arms had looked like someone had dug into them with a dull knife, or maybe a fork.


    There is a metaphor for existence. A collection of useless pain. By the Chariot, I¡¯m such a whiner.


    Geezer was sitting next to Oak, ears flat against his head. The hellhound leaned against his leg and let out a sad little howl. Somehow, that helped a bit. Oak took a deep breath and swallowed the lump down.


    What was done was done.


    After Ur-Namma had finished his lament, Oak too had words for the dead and though his delivery was less flowery than Ur-Namma¡¯s, it had no less heart in it.


    ¡°Fuck dragons,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°There, my friend, is a message I can get behind,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Fuck dragons.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Ur-Namma, I require the aid of your vast experience,¡± Oak whispered.


    The three of them were climbing up the long staircase to the third floor of the Imperial Library. Oak figured this was as good a place as any to pick Ur-Namma¡¯s brain.


    ¡°I would be happy to be of assistance,¡± Ur-Namma whispered back.


    Oak turned his head back and looked at the elf. ¡°Sometime soon, I¡¯m going to need to pick another power. Maybe even two of them. I want to know what you would do in my shoes.¡±


    ¡°Ah. A matter of grave import,¡± Ur-Namma said. The elf tapped his chin while he contemplated the question.


    While it was obvious the elf was moving better than the day before, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he climbed with halting steps.


    ¡°I will respond with a question of my own,¡± Ur-Namma finally said. ¡°Who decides when a fight begins and when it ends?¡±


    ¡°Is this some kind of trick question?¡± Oak asked. This was not a direction he had expected the conversation to go towards, but that was the reason it made sense to ask for advice in the first place. The elf did not think like he did.


    ¡°No. Just think about a fight between two average humans,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    Oak reached the third floor landing and poked his head out. This floor seemed identical to the first one. Just a library filled with books that could walk. And bite your face off if you were not careful. It was a fine spot for a break, so he sat down on the last step and gave Ur-Namma¡¯s question some thought.


    ¡°Well, if one is faster than the other, he could always just run away,¡± Oak said after a bit of thinking.


    ¡°Exactly. There is much power in being able to decide when and where an engagement happens.¡± Ur-Namma smiled. The elf spoke with his teacher''s voice now, all intelligible and assertive. ¡°If you run faster than your opponent, they can¡¯t escape, nor can they chase you. What about if the difference in speed is very large?¡±


    ¡°I guess the faster one just cuts the other to pieces? You can¡¯t block a strike if you don¡¯t even see it coming,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Therein lies the trap that many a Warlock and Chosen have walked into. It does not matter if you wield unimaginable magical power or shake the Heavens with your strength, if your adversary strikes first,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I have killed more spellcasters of all kinds than I can count in battle, and one thing has always remained the same. There is not much a mage can do if you cut their head off before they can cast a spell.¡±


    The elf sat down on the floor of the third floor landing and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Geezer went to help him, and licked off everything Ur-Namma had missed, while the elf sputtered and tried to push the hellhound away.


    ¡°Correct me if I am wrong, but you don¡¯t seem to have a high opinion of mages,¡± Oak said. ¡°Surprising, since your sister was one.¡±


    Geezer was still busy terrorizing Ur-Namma, so Oak had to wait until the elf cajoled the hound to lie down and leave his face alone, before he got an answer.


    ¡°Archmages and masters of the art are, of course, a different matter, but most mages are not very effective at war,¡± Ur-Namma scoffed. ¡°Battles can last for days. The average elementalist throws some fireballs or a couple of lightning bolts and runs out of juice. It is flashy, but one should never mistake spectacle for effectiveness.


    ¡°Believe me when I say that I have often achieved more with a group of peasants wielding bows than I ever have with a single middling wizard.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Oak said. ¡°I never thought of it that way.¡±


    ¡°Now, there are two general exceptions. Elementalists who focus on earth, stone and soil,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°And diabolists.¡± The elf scratched Geezer behind the ears with his long fingers, eliciting a groan from the dog. ¡°Earth mages are fiendishly difficult to kill since they can, bar none, travel through soil and construct a golem around themselves from materials that are always found under their own feet. Even more importantly, they can create earthworks with a snap of their fingers. Makes wielding cavalry against them a fool''s errand.¡±


    ¡°What about diabolists?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Why are they such a pain in the ass?¡±


    ¡°To be a diabolist is to be prepared. It''s pretty much impossible to kill one quickly,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°They always have a dozen pacts with different demons, and a bag full of nasty tricks in reserve. Not to mention the fact that they can summon devils, infernal spirits, and even weak demons if the diabolist is powerful enough.¡±


    The elf stared through the walls of the library into the distance, clearly in the grips of memory. ¡°I once had to batter a warding circle down for two entire days while the diabolist summoned hellspawn to attack me, before I could kill the bastard. Had to pierce his heart five times because the first four wounds vanished from his body.¡±


    ¡°Not fond of diabolists, I see.¡± Oak snickered.


    ¡°Not particularly,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°To get back to your question, I suggest you think of your journey to power as the construction of a great tower with a wide base. You cannot be a jack of all trades and a master of none if you want to kill a dragon. Versatility is no doubt necessary, but it should not come at the cost of holding you back from powers that require a significant investment of souls.


    ¡°Additionally, you should not underestimate the importance of being fast, strong, and durable. You have already opted for the Branch of Buer and received a boon along that branch. Speed and strength will give you many options when it comes to movement, and thanks to your chosen path, it is not likely you will tire before the battle is over.¡±


    He had chosen the Branch of Buer for good reason. There was nothing scarier than being in a fight and realizing you were tiring faster than the other guy. That was the realm of cold sweat and shaking limbs.


    ¡°Being able to, for example, teleport is fine, but it will be very resource intensive, both in the amount of soul investment necessary to make the power useful, and in the sense of actually wielding the power in the world,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°You can only cast so much before the strain on your soul forces you to stop. Every teleport you cast would spend the same resource you need to summon your flames.¡±


    ¡°You know what, Ur-Namma?¡± Oak asked. ¡°You have given me a lot to think about. Thank you.¡±


    The elf looked pleased with himself. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, my friend.¡±


    It was nice to just sit still for a while. Oak stared at the ceiling. He tried to imagine all the floors and towers above. It was maddening that mortal hands had built something of this magnitude. It did not seem real to him. Surely there was some trick to all this?


    When he could tell that Ur-Namma was no longer about to keel over from exhaustion, Oak stood up and placed the rucksack on his back.


    ¡°I think we should try to get to the fifth floor before we stop for the night,¡± Oak said. ¡°It should not take too long. What do you say?¡±


    ¡°Stairs, my worst enemy. We meet again.¡± Ur-Namma groaned and clambered back to his feet. He gestured for Oak to take point and Oak did so without complaint.


    ¡°Come on, old timer,¡± Oak said and stepped on the stairs leading towards the floor¡¯s above. ¡°We still need to empty that vault.¡±

 Chapter 34

    It did not take Oak very long to realize they would not be making it to the fifth floor before they had to stop to eat and sleep. When he reached the fourth floor landing, Oak saw that the stairs leading up had utterly collapsed.


    Large chunks of rubble covered the bottom of the stairs, and only a few feet above that, there was only empty air. They would have to cross the entire floor to reach the staircase on the other side and hope that it was still intact.


    Luckily, the fourth floor of the Imperial Library seemed much like the first and the third. Just endless rows of tall bookshelves filled with scrolls, tomes and books of all kinds. Oak could see groups of books walking on top of the shelves in the distance, but nothing moved close by.


    Standing next to the rubble gave Oak an idea. He scooped up some rocks and stuffed them in his pockets. That tile he had thrown at one of Jarl Shaw¡¯s carls back in Spoke had worked like a charm, and you never knew when you needed to rattle someone''s skull from far away.


    Ur-Namma and Geezer made it to the top of the stairs and Oak turned towards them. The elf was gasping for breath and his legs were shaking. Getting to the top of another set of stairs would have been a tough ask for the elf already, but there was no way they could cross the fourth floor if Ur-Namma was this tired.


    ¡°How are you doing?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°I have seen better days.¡± Ur-Namma croaked.


    ¡°As you can see, we will have to head to the staircase on the other side. Something or someone has destroyed that one,¡± Oak said, and pointed at the collapsed stairs behind him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can walk much further,¡± Ur-Namma admitted. ¡°Can we search for a place to rest our feet?¡±


    ¡°I was about to suggest that. There are a lot of doors leading to who knows where on the walls of the library hall. Let¡¯s see if we get lucky,¡± Oak said. ¡°I would rather not sleep in the open and wake up to find a book gnawing on my toes.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± Ur-Namma said, and wiped sweat from his brow. ¡°If it was up to me, I would like to keep all of my limbs far away from anything looking to gnaw on them.¡±


    ¡°Shucks. We really chose our route poorly then, didn¡¯t we?¡± Oak said, and Ur-Namma cackled in response. Oak took that as a sign the elf was not about to pass out on him and ventured out into the hall.


    Let¡¯s find that shelter before I actually have to start carrying the elf.


    Oak turned left and started systematically opening every door he ran across, while Ur-Namma and Geezer followed. He kept his ears open in case of any trouble, but for once luck was with him and he heard absolutely nothing.


    The first door he opened was some type of small supply closet, and the second door led to a dark hallway Oak did not want to venture down, but as they say, third time''s the charm.


    Behind the third door, Oak found some type of large reading space filled with desks and chairs. There was even a single, working magical lantern on the wall. It was perfect. He beckoned Ur-Namma and Geezer inside and closed the door behind them.


    Ur-Namma grabbed the nearest chair and collapsed into it with the type of boneless exhaustion Oak had only seen before during the war. Men could march so long they started seeing things and sleeping on their feet, falling asleep between every step. Ur-Namma was not quite there yet, but based on the elf¡¯s expression, he was pretty close.


    Working quickly, Oak took some food out of his rucksack, and forced Ur-Namma to eat something. The elf would be useless tomorrow if he fell asleep without filling his belly.


    Ur-Namma grumbled, but ate the hardtack and corned beef without complaint. Having finished his supper, the elf laid down on the stone floor and started snoring immediately.


    ¡°Seems like I will take the first watch,¡± Oak said and threw some salted pork Geezer¡¯s way. ¡°Keep me company for a while, would you?¡±


    Geezer grabbed the meat from the air and settled next to Oak. They ate in comfortable silence. Oak did not dare to disturb the hellhound too much when he was finally showing signs of forgiveness, but he gave Geezer a couple of scratches and hoped for the best.


    At least the dog did not move away from him.


    Some time passed, and Oak could not for the life of him keep his eyes open. He did not have the heart to wake Ur-Namma either, so he devised a solution. It did not take too long to pile some tables and chairs against the door leading out of the reading room, even if he had to mostly rely on his right hand. Oak was fairly sure nothing could open that door without creating a massive racket, and if something could manage that they were all probably dead, anyway.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    When Oak was happy with his improvised barricade, he laid down and called for Geezer to join him. They went to sleep side by side and, after a brief moment of hesitation, Geezer snuggled right against Oak¡¯s side.


    I could cry right about now. Even the dull ache of his stab wounds wasn¡¯t able to bring Oak¡¯s mood down. I am the luckiest bastard alive. He had not even realized how tense he had been before all the muscles in his shoulders finally relaxed. The hellhound had forgiven him.


    ¡°I love you, Geezer,¡± Oak mumbled. The quiet snuffling of the hellhound lying by his side was the best reply he could have gotten, and the familiar sound carried him to sleep.


    ***


    Something warm and wet licked his face. Oak opened his eyes a tad and found himself nose to snout with none other than Geezer. The hellhound gave him one of his glorious doggy smiles and got back to licking Oak¡¯s face.


    I guess Ur-Namma was right in the end. Sometimes a good night''s sleep, and a new dawn make all the difference.


    Since the elf was still asleep, Oak just lay there and petted Geezer to his heart''s content. The short time the hellhound had spent avoiding him had been pure torture, and he was going to enjoy this moment to the fullest extent. Sadly, all good things came to an end at some point.


    Ur-Namma yawned so widely it looked like he was about to dislocate his jaw and sat up. ¡°I am awake,¡± the elf declared, and rubbed his eyes.


    ¡°Nice of you to join us. You won¡¯t believe what¡¯s on the menu for breakfast,¡± Oak said.


    Ur-Namma was probably about to admonish him about being more grateful for having any food to eat in the first place, when the elf noticed the barricade Oak had built in front of the door and the words died on his lips.


    ¡°You¡­you did not wake me for the second watch,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°May I ask why?¡±


    ¡°I figured there was no point. If something could get that door open quietly, I doubt either of us would have noticed it anyway in our current condition,¡± Oak said. He opened the rucksack and started pulling out food and water for the three of them. ¡°Better we slept well.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be too mad about this, since we are still alive, but let¡¯s discuss these things in the future beforehand,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Dying because of laziness might be even worse than dying because of incompetence. At least the incompetent tried.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted,¡± Oak said. ¡°Hardtack?¡±


    ¡°My favorite!¡± Ur-Namma shouted and accepted the package of hard biscuits.


    The elf started eating the biscuits with relish, while Oak watched, utterly disgusted by the display. A good soldier hated field rations with all his heart. Not to be outdone, Geezer excitedly dug into his own breakfast.


    Oak shook his head. ¡°You are both hopeless. When eating field rations, one should emit an aura of suffering and general apathy towards life itself,¡± he said. ¡°Observe.¡±


    Like putting on a well-worn cloak, Oak settled into a slouch and pulled on an expression of utter depression to his face as he bit into a biscuit.


    ¡°Your bearing would make a child cry out of sympathy,¡± Ur-Namma observed. The elf stared at Oak in utter fascination. ¡°As unlikely as it would be, do you perhaps have stage experience?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m a natural,¡± Oak said and forced down another bite. ¡°Natural at expressing the horror of these molar breakers made of flour and water. Did you know that they sometimes don¡¯t even add any salt to these things, and they bake them up to four times?¡±


    The mere idea made Oak shiver.


    ¡°No, I have never taken an interest in the manufacture of field rations,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Have you ever considered that sometimes it''s better to not know how the sausage is made?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. Ignorance is bliss. Blessed are the stupid and the incurious for what is an open mind but an open mouth, waiting for someone to shit inside of it,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Now you are speaking my language,¡± Ur-Namma said with a grin on his face. ¡°I love the common people and the more common they are, the more I love them.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t form a shieldwall without em, eh?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°In my experience, it is one of their best uses,¡± Ur-Namma said without a hint of irony.


    ¡°Considering how long you and your sister reigned, I suppose you kept those feelings to yourself.¡±


    I don¡¯t know which would make me more disappointed in my fellow man. If he hid such casual contempt for centuries or if he openly expressed it and people did not care a whit.


    ¡°Of course. The trick is to truly love their usefulness and express that love. You should have seen me kiss a baby during a triumph,¡± Ur-Namma replied. The elf clicked his needle-like teeth together and smiled like a fox.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I have to tell you this, but those teeth should never get close to a baby,¡± Oak said. ¡°You might get hungry and take a bite.¡±


    Ur-Namma waved away Oak¡¯s concerns. ¡°I would never eat a baby. A good commoner pays taxes for over fifty years and makes more commoners,¡± the elf said. ¡°A reproducing resource like that must be cherished. After all, an empire is made up of its people.¡±


    Oak did not know if he should be afraid or comforted. Suddenly, rescuing Ur-Namma felt like a terrible mistake.


    What the fuck were you thinking, Ashmedai?

 Chapter 35

    The books were so bloody annoying.


    I don¡¯t care what Ur-Namma says, his sister was a fucking menace, Oak thought, as he grabbed another book with wriggling little legs trying to jump on his back from the top of a shelf and threw it as far as he could. The thing flew over the nearest bookshelf and vanished beyond sight, flapping its covers like a disabled bird.


    ¡°Can we burn this library to the ground?¡± Oak asked. ¡°We would be doing a service for all man- and elfkind. If people found out, they would treat us like heroes.¡±


    ¡°Come now,¡± Ur-Namma said and lifted his longsword. There was a booklet skewered on the tip. ¡°They are pretty cute.¡±


    Just this once, Geezer was clearly on Oak¡¯s side of the disagreement. It felt so good Oak tried to come up with more arguments he could start with Ur-Namma that would cause Geezer to take his side again. One of Aoibheann¡¯s other lunacies might do the trick. The elf would defend his sister until the end of time.


    Only an absolute lunatic would have started an argument for the sake of it, so Oak didn¡¯t. He wanted to, though.


    The hellhound had bite marks on his tail and he was carrying the culprit in his mouth, shaking the tome violently every once in a while. The dog glared at Ur-Namma and huffed.


    The elf stretched out his sword towards Oak, who snatched the booklet from the point and chucked it over the shelves on their right.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Ur-Namma said, trying to appease Geezer. ¡°The collection can be slightly overzealous.¡±


    ¡°Slightly? Slightly, you say.¡± Oak scoffed. ¡°These things are worse than ghouls, and that is saying something.¡±


    ¡°I think you just hate learning,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°You really should read more. Broaden your horizons.¡±


    ¡°I will have time to read when I¡¯m dead,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Ashmedai has a well-stocked library.¡±


    The three of them were trying to make their way across the library hall to the stairs that would hopefully lead them to the fifth floor and beyond. If someone had asked Oak how it was going, he would have replied that things could be worse. Since answering a question of this nature with such a phrase was the male equivalent of screaming in frustration from the top of one''s lungs, he thought just screaming in rage would also probably do the trick.


    If I see another book during the next five years, it will be too soon.


    He kicked a book that tried to nibble on his boots out of his way and stomped forward. The hall was not completely dark, since some of the lanterns on the walls still worked, but it was dark enough that without his boons, Oak would have been feeling his way forward by hand in the shadows of the bookshelves.


    A tingle between Oak¡¯s shoulder blades made him look up. The good news was that nothing was descending to eat him. The bad news was that he could just about distinguish strange, fleshy looking growths on the ceiling.


    No, not just on the ceiling. It¡¯s growing through the seams between the blocks of stone, Oak realized with some alarm. Whatever it was, it was on the fifth floor. A sinking feeling settled on his stomach as he noticed that parts of the growth were moving.


    ¡°Ur-Namma?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Ur-Namma replied distractedly. The elf was trying to shoo away a book that seemingly wanted to walk by his side. The thing was marching to the same beat as the elf with great enthusiasm.


    ¡°Look up. Why is there a tapestry of moving flesh on the ceiling?¡± Oak asked.


    The elf looked at the flesh hanging from the ceiling and frowned. ¡°That is unusual, to say the least,¡± he said.


    ¡°Seen anything like that before?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say that I have,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°Seems a tad worrying to tell you the truth. Let¡¯s try to keep an eye on it.¡±


    Oak nodded and kept walking. The sinking feeling in his stomach had settled in for the long haul. Knowing his luck, the entire fifth floor was going to be covered in some kind of living, cursed mass of flesh that would try to eat him.


    I can see your tricks, Creation, and I¡¯m not impressed.


    Right on cue, Geezer growled. It was the type of low, rumbling growl you could feel inside your chest. Oak let out a sigh. Based on the sounds ahead, they had more pressing problems than the mystery meat growing on the ceiling. Books were moving en masse.


    If the horde gathering ahead of them attacked, it would not be pretty.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°The books are gathering together. Be ready to run,¡± Ur-Namma whispered.


    Since things were about to get interesting, Oak tested whether the enchantments on the ceiling were still functional on this floor. He summoned a small burst of flame from his left hand. Nothing happened. The ceiling did not flash and water did not rain upon the three of them.


    A giddy feeling of excitement built itself up inside Oak¡¯s very soul.


    I might have to thank the mystery meat growing on the ceiling for this bout of good fortune.


    The elf had been watching him test his flames. ¡°Forget about it. You can¡¯t light the books on fire.¡± Ur-Namma hissed.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Oak asked. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to destroy the library¡¯s collection, but surely this is an exceptional situation?¡±


    ¡°It is not about that, fool. If you light some of those books on fire, the flames will spread faster than you can comprehend. We are standing in a room filled with dust, wood, and paper. Even if we do not burn alive and manage to reach the stairs before the flames, we are still going to die,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Smoke and heat travel upwards. How are we going to breathe if the entire fourth floor burns below us?¡±


    Oak rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. ¡°Yeah. I didn¡¯t think about that,¡± he admitted. ¡°Should we just leg it right now?¡±


    ¡°No, let me think,¡± Ur-Namma said, and furrowed his brows.


    The sound of hundreds of little feet moving in unison was getting closer and Oak could see some books barreling down the corridor towards them already. ¡°Can you think faster?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No need, I have it. New plan. You will use those flames of yours, but you will take care not to set anything on fire,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Got it?¡±


    ¡°No?¡± Oak said.


    ¡°When these books were enchanted, the spellsingers sank a fear into the very core of their being. The fear of fire. Time and the dragon¡¯s malice have obviously corrupted some of the enchantments, but the vast majority of the books should still try to stay away from an open flame,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Just point it upwards and try not to kill us.¡±


    ¡°Huh. I guess that makes sense to do, if you are already going through the trouble of enchanting ceilings to release rain and so on,¡± Oak said. He pulled his falchion from its sheath and rolled his shoulders. It was time to get to work.


    ¡°Geezer, stay right by my side. Ur-Namma, stick as close as you can,¡± Oak commanded. There was no time for more detailed instructions because the first books were upon them and he needed to start swinging.


    The falchion cut through covers and paper like a scythe cuts through wheat. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he cleaved the abominations in two.


    Oak destroyed the first ten or so books, sprinting right at the three of them ahead of the main horde, before he needed to put Ur-Namma¡¯s theory about walking books and fire to the test. The entire corridor ahead of them was now teeming with enchanted books and more were climbing over the bookshelves and jumping down every moment.


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    He called, and the flames inside his soul answered. A foot long pillar of fire rose from his left hand towards the ceiling.


    The effect was immediate. The tide of chicken legged literature slid to a slow halt, as the books at the back pushed the ones in the front forward while the ones closer to the fire turned around, and started climbing over each other to get away.


    With every step that Oak took forward, the horde in front of him backed up, pages rustling. He could hear books jumping down behind him. In a matter of moments, he found himself, Geezer and Ur-Namma surrounded by a churning sea made of the finest collection of knowledge in the face of Pairi-Daeza. Geezer started squeaking in fear.


    The three of them walked forward in a circle of safety provided by Oak¡¯s flame. Shadows danced on the surface of the horde of books, turning an already incomprehensible mess into something utterly alien.


    I can¡¯t even tell where a book ends, and another begins. It¡¯s like the entire horde is a single, living being.


    Some books on Oak¡¯s right tried to inch closer, and Geezer went to snap at them. The dog was almost mad with fear. ¡°No, Geezer!¡± Oak roared and brought the flame closer to the enterprising little bastards.


    Luckily, the hellhound listened and returned next to Oak¡¯s leg. He had no doubt in his mind that if one of them got too close to the edge of that horde, the books would swarm over them like a tide and they would all burn to death.


    The Ears of Amdusias proved their worth once again when the horde surged forward behind Oak. He quickly turned and shooed the tide of paper away with his flames. At no point did he stop walking forward. Ur-Namma followed behind him like a second shadow, never falling out of step.


    Hesitation is death, Oak repeated inside his mind as sweat ran like a river down his back. Hesitation is death.


    The corridor ended as they reached a hallway running through the rows of bookshelves across the entire library hall. Fucking hell, Oak thought. More books were leaving their shelves and running to join the swarm from both sides. He lifted his gaze and locked it onto the staircase that would lead them to the fifth floor, and away from this madhouse.


    From where he was standing, it felt like salvation was miles away.


    ¡°Just one foot in front of the other. Nice and easy does it,¡± Oak said, more to himself than anyone else, and forced himself to walk towards the horde.


    It wasn¡¯t like Ur-Namma could hear him over the cacophony of thousands of books roiling around them like a stormy sea. He was feeling the strain of keeping the small flame going. To make matters worse, the stress was making him really feel the need to take a piss.


    My bladder is conspiring to kill me. He looked at the staircase again. How the fuck is it still so far away?


    Fuelled by desperation, he picked up the pace. Harried on all sides by a ravenous swarm made of paper, chicken legs and teeth, Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma walked down another corridor flanked by bookshelves.


    Step by step they inched closer to the staircase at the end of the hall, their lives guarded only by the waning flame Oak held in his left hand.

 Chapter 36

    By the time Oak¡¯s feet touched the first step of the stairs leading to the fifth floor, he was about to pass out. At first, the strain of keeping the flame he had summoned going had made him sweat like a pig, but as time passed, he began to feel chilly. Before long, he was shivering like mad. It felt like the blood in his veins had turned to liquid-ice and his teeth were chattering so hard he could barely speak.


    The flame went out. Oak turned around, expecting to see the horde of books rushing forward to kill the three of them. Not a single book approached the staircase. The horde stood still for a moment and then, almost like the books had reached a common decision of some sort, the swarm dispersed back to their shelves.


    Oak stared at the calmly receding sea of books in incomprehension. Why aren¡¯t we dead? He could not figure out why the books retreated at the moment of victory. Legs feeling like jelly, he stumbled back and sat down on the stairs. Ur-Namma slumped down next to him and Geezer walked past them both, settling down a bit higher up.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t we dead?¡± Oak asked, after his teeth stopped trying to chatter their way out of his skull.


    ¡°I¡¯m not completely sure, but I would wager that has something to do with it,¡± Ur-Namma said and pointed up the stairs.


    Oak turned his head and looked. By the Chariot. He turned back to Ur-Namma and asked, ¡°Am I seeing things or is there red flesh growing on the stairs?¡±


    ¡°We are not lucky enough for that to be a hallucination,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Oak said. ¡°I knew it. That flesh is going to try to eat me, mark my words.¡±


    ¡°I think that is a fair assessment of the situation,¡± the elf said and handed Oak a water bottle. ¡°Drink, before you pass out. That last stretch looked rough.¡±


    Oak blinked. When had the elf opened the rucksack on his back and taken something out of it?


    By Ashmedai¡¯s balls, I am dizzier than I thought.


    He accepted the bottle and took a long swig from it. It felt so good he ended up drinking the entire bottle in one go. When he finished, Ur-Namma handed him another bottle and a package of hardtack.


    ¡°Eat,¡± the elf ordered, and Oak was in no state to argue. He dug into the biscuits in a mechanical fashion, shoveling food inside his mouth like it was a furnace in desperate need of coal, which was not too far from the truth.


    Once Oak had eaten his fill and there were no black spots in his vision any longer, he wiped his hands on his trousers and decided it was time to ask some questions.


    ¡°So. Now would be a good time to tell me what¡¯s up there,¡± Oak said and pointed up towards the fifth floor. ¡°Especially since the books fear it so much they did not dare to even approach the stairs.¡±


    ¡°There are a lot of reading rooms up there, community spaces, that sort of thing. They used to be open to the public before the Doom,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°And?¡± Oak asked. He knew the elf was keeping something back.


    ¡°Well. To tell you the truth, most of the floor is filled with ritual chambers,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Ritual chambers?¡± Oak asked. He had not thought it possible, but the sinking feeling in his stomach had just gotten worse.


    ¡°Yes. There are multiple small and medium-sized ones, and then there is the massive circular chamber in the middle of the floor for large workings,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    ¡°Right. Okay. Sounds great. Fucking fantastic,¡± Oak said, waving his hands towards the stuff of nightmares covering the staircase. ¡°Do you have any theories about this red, cursed looking flesh growing all over the stairs because that looks fucked? Proper fucked.¡±


    ¡°Not as such,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I have an inkling about how this devilry came to be, though. You see, the Imperial University held some captured dwarves for research purposes. They were trying to lift the curse. I guess the dwarves escaped their cells when the city fell to Yam-Nahar¡¯s malice and ended up here.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate the history lesson, but what does that have to do with anything?¡± Oak said. The flesh on the stairs was making him anxious. ¡°I also resent the implication. A lot of devilry is perfectly reasonable behavior.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Bear with me,¡± Ur-Namma replied, ignoring Oak¡¯s valiant defense of the Hells. ¡°We have only run into so many dwarves here. The university had a lot more of them captive, and Alasie was the only mage among the ones we have killed.¡±


    ¡°Meaning?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°I suspect that the rest of the spellsingers are responsible for whatever that is,¡± Ur-Namma said, nodding towards the cursed looking flesh. ¡°In addition, I think the reason an onslaught of dwarves has not killed us lies in the same place. The rest of the dwarves are inside that cursed flesh. They are that cursed flesh.¡±


    By the Corpse of God, why? Cursed dwarf paste? I hate my life.


    Oak stared at Ur-Namma for a moment to make sure the elf was not joking, but he seemed deadly serious. ¡°I have to say, that is the most diabolical thing anyone has ever said in my presence,¡± he confessed.


    ¡°Thank you?¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Right. Before we do anything else, I¡¯m going to take a piss. I don''t want to die with a full bladder. Then we can start wandering into the cursed, whatever the fuck, so our bodies can provide sustenance for it when it inevitably kills us all,¡± Oak said, and stood up. He was going to piss over that railing and he was going to enjoy it.


    Life is short. Make every moment count and so on.


    ***


    To say that Oak was not feeling confident about any of this would have been a gross understatement. Sadly, their current predicament could be characterized as a dilemma. Those were Oak¡¯s favorites. He loved it when every possible course of action sucked balls.


    ¡°Have you considered just calling it quits?¡± Oak asked. ¡°There might be nothing useful in your sister''s vault after all.¡±


    They were standing right in front of the cursed flesh, which seemed to grow down the staircase. Now that they were up close and personal with it, he could see veins and strange black growths inside it.


    ¡°No, I have not considered retreat,¡± Ur-Namma replied, and stepped on the flesh.


    Oak could not help flinching, but against all of his expectations, nothing happened. ¡°I was kind of wishing it would attack you so we would have a valid reason not to continue forward,¡± he admitted.


    Ur-Namma gave Oak a flat look. ¡°Who dares wins,¡± the elf said.


    ¡°All right, all right,¡± Oak said, and stepped across the dividing line between stone and flesh.


    The first thing he noticed was the fact that the flesh was warm to the touch. It was radiating heat through the soles of his boots, and it was soft like a baby''s bottom. His feet sank in just a tiny bit.


    Geezer sniffed the flesh for some time, before Oak convinced the hellhound to step on it. Fortunately, the dog had the good sense to not take a bite. There was no telling how that would have ended.


    With careful steps, the three of them started walking up the stairs. Geezer managed just fine since his claws gripped the flesh with ease, but Oak was glad there was a railing to hold on to. The flesh was slippery.


    The climb was not too difficult, but it was tedious. The stairs zig zagged up the wall, so every once in a while they reached a small landing, and turned around. Oak did not want to stare at the flesh he was walking on, so he distracted himself by looking at the library hall below.


    The books had, for the most part, returned to their normal places. Individual books patrolled on top of the shelves, but there was no sign of the horde that had assailed them earlier.


    There had been something insect-like about the way the books had swarmed.


    Like ants or locusts. This place is like a hive. We are very lucky books can¡¯t reproduce.


    All thoughts about the nature of walking books vanished from Oak¡¯s head, when his foot slipped and he slammed face down onto the flesh covered staircase. The solid grip he had on the railing was the only reason he did not roll down the stairs.


    ¡°By the Chariot,¡± Oak cursed and picked himself back up. The stab wound on his forearm had not enjoyed being slammed against the stairs, and now it was aching like mad.


    ¡°I recommend not doing that again,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Please jump into a well, skeleton,¡± Oak muttered, but the elf just laughed at him. ¡°The nearest lake would also be acceptable.¡±


    Geezer trotted to Oak¡¯s side, and the worried dog licked his hand. He bent down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. ¡°See, unlike you, Geezer cares about my wellbeing,¡± he said and cradled his wounded left arm.


    Once Oak had gotten his bearings, they continued to climb.


    Soon they reached the final landing before the fifth floor, and Oak could see the entrance at the top of the stairs. The cursed flesh traveled up the walls and the ceiling, covering the edges of the entrance from all directions. When they walked inside, it would utterly surround them. To make matters worse, some type of fleshy tendrils covered the entrance, drooping down to the floor from the ceiling.


    The tendrils were wriggling.


    ¡°Oh, fuck absolutely all of that,¡± Oak said.


    If we walk in there, the flesh will be all around us. From here, the fifth floor looks like the insides of some great beast''s stomach.


    ¡°I have to admit it looks disconcerting,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°But I do not see any other way.¡±


    Oak took a deep breath and slowly let it out. I¡¯m still breathing. Like the old man used to say, indecision and delays are the parents of failure. ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing for it then. Let¡¯s go before I lose my courage.¡±


    Every hair on Oak¡¯s body stood on end, as he pushed the tendrils covering the entrance to the fifth floor aside and walked into the belly of the beast.

 Chapter 37

    The fifth floor of the Imperial Library was the stuff of nightmares.


    The stench of old, rotting blood and pus-filled wounds suffused the stale air. Oak had not noticed it earlier, but now that the flesh was all around him, he could sense a faint heartbeat traveling through it. The floor had a pulse, and blood flowed through the veins he was standing on. It should have been completely dark, but the flesh gave off a slight glow, casting everything in an unsettling red light.


    If it bleeds, you can kill it, Oak thought, trying to comfort himself. It wasn¡¯t really working.


    Geezer and Ur-Namma had followed him through the entrance to the fifth floor, and the three of them were standing in a hall with a counter and some chairs covered in cursed flesh. Four hallways diverged from the room. One to the right, one to the left and two straight ahead, with enough room between them for a row of ritual chambers.


    Oak walked around the room and checked the hallways to get an idea of the layout. It seemed like the entire floor was arranged as a grid of rooms with hallways in between. He returned to his companions and collected his thoughts. There was not much to collect.


    ¡°I feel a heartbeat under my feet,¡± he whispered.


    Ur-Namma nodded. ¡°So do I. No matter what caused all of this, I would bet my life the epicenter of it is in the large ritual chamber at the center of the floor,¡± he said and tapped his chin. ¡°We need to get to the entrance to the southern tower. It is located on the south side of the library, which is on our left. If we are lucky, we can just skirt by the edges of this floor and never approach the heart of this madness.¡±


    Oak almost burst out laughing. ¡°What are the odds of that happening? You and I both know we are not that lucky.¡±


    ¡°Practically zero, but here''s hoping,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°Let¡¯s just head down the hallway on the left and see where it takes us. We will deal with things as they come.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me,¡± Oak said, and pulled out his falchion. This was the type of place he would not explore without a weapon in hand.


    They left the room and walked down the leftward hallway in tense silence. Being utterly surrounded by glowing, cursed meat was making Oak twitchy and he strained his hearing to the maximum, trying to see if he could notice anything moving close by. He thought he heard something. Almost like a whisper in the air. It was just at the edge of his hearing, and he could not grasp it before it vanished.


    Oak stopped and tried to listen carefully, but the only sound he heard was the beating of his own heart, thundering in his ears.


    I¡¯m imagining things. I have to pull myself together.


    He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk forward once more. One foot in front of the other, with Ur-Namma and Geezer acting as his shadows.


    They passed multiple reading rooms and ritual chambers with their doors open. Nothing disturbed their journey, and Oak was ready to let out a sigh of relief and conclude that he had really been imagining things, when the whispers started again.


    ¡°Hey, elf?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Ur-Namma stood there nonchalantly, like there was nothing to worry about.


    ¡°Have you noticed a strange, blood-curdling whispering at the edge of your hearing?¡± Oak asked. ¡°I need to know if I¡¯m losing my mind here.¡±


    Ur-Namma cocked his head and listened for a bit. ¡°Why, now that you mention it, I have. How quaint. These dwarves are a riot,¡± the elf said, and shooed Oak onwards. ¡°Let us move before something adds our voices to the choir.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    There wasn¡¯t really anything else Oak could do, so he crumbled to himself and started walking again. That pointy-eared bastard is entirely too unflappable. I¡¯m pissing myself here and he is treating this like an afternoon walk in the woods, he thought, and tried to focus on the task at hand. At least he still had his rocks. It was comforting to know he had something in his pockets to throw at a problem if the need arose.


    All hopes of a quick exit to the southern tower were dashed, when the three of them came to an intersection of hallways and found the route they needed to take entirely covered by a wall of red flesh. There were even some sections with actual skin on the wall and bizarre looking tumors covered the surface.


    It was, to put it bluntly, utterly revolting.


    Geezer took one look at the wall and stayed far back. Oak did not take that as a good sign. The dog had good instincts when it came to danger.


    ¡°So, what now?¡± he asked. ¡°Should I try to chop us a way through?¡±


    Ur-Namma rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought for a moment. ¡°I''m going to say yes. If this has to come to a fight, I see no harm in being the one who starts hostilities. In most cases, it is preferable to give the first strike,¡± he said. ¡°We might also find that you collapse that wall with a couple of good chops and we continue our journey unopposed.¡±


    ¡°If that happens, I owe you a drink in the next tavern we encounter,¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Noted,¡± Ur-Namma said and pulled out his longsword. Then the elf looked at Geezer, who was standing a couple of paces behind him and retreated next to the hellhound. ¡°Whenever you are ready.¡±


    Oak nodded and rolled his shoulders. Time to start swinging. The two-handed falchion whistled through the air as Oak struck the wall with all of his might. He achieved mixed results.


    The good news was that the blade cut into the flesh almost up to the hilt. The bad news was that Oak had just put a sword length of steel in the wall and he had not found the other side.


    The wall quivered silently, and blood gushed by the bucketful from the massive wound Oak had hewn into the wall, wetting his boots. Then every tumor on the wall exploded into movement. Large, barbed tentacles burst from the wall and slapped Oak in the chest with bruising force that put him on his ass.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Oak screamed and shuffled backwards as fast as he could. The forest of tentacles that had spawned from the wall tried to reach for him, but a quick burst of flame covered his frenzied retreat.


    The black tentacles searched for an enemy they could reach and found nothing. The barbs of bone clicked against each other as the tentacles writhed in frustration. It was like looking into the nastiest nest of snakes in Creation.


    Geezer barked like mad, but the hellhound was in no rush to run to Oak¡¯s defense. Far from it. Not that Oak blamed him. He knew Geezer was a bit of a coward sometimes, so it was not a surprise to find the hellhound hiding behind Ur-Namma¡¯s stick thin legs and staring at the tentacles with wide eyes.


    One by one, the tentacles retreated inside the wall. Once every barbed appendage was inside its tumor, the wound Oak had struck shivered. With a disgusting slurping sound, the wound closed and the flesh knit itself back together.


    ¡°It looks like trying to cut our way through is a fool''s errand,¡± Ur-Namma concluded. ¡°We do not have a choice in the matter. We head towards the central chamber.¡±


    Oak was still trying to get his breathing under control. Being ambushed by tentacles had not been among the possibilities he had considered when he struck the wall of flesh. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Casting again so soon after he had almost strained his soul to the maximum had not felt good.


    He had maybe one or two bursts of flame like that in him, if even that before things would get dicey.


    ¡°Sure. Fine by me, not that anyone asked my opinion,¡± Oak said and scrambled to his feet. ¡°By the Chariot, I almost soiled my breaches there.¡±


    ¡°Have some decorum, human.¡± Ur-Namma grinned a little too widely. ¡°A warrior does not soil himself, no matter the circumstance.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fuck you,¡± Oak replied, and carefully maneuvered himself around the corner to the right, eyes peeled for any tentacles trying to lunge at him from the wall on his left he had just taken a beating from.


    There wasn¡¯t even a hint of movement to be seen, but Oak stood ready and waited until Ur-Namma and Geezer had passed the danger before he turned around and took point again. The center of the fifth floor awaited.


    At the end of this unfortunate escapade, Oak was left with a bleeding cut on his chest and a pair of wet boots, completely covered in blood. His footwraps felt soggy, and they squelched as he walked.


    Lovely. Wet feet. That is the missing ingredient this boiling stew of shit really needed.


    Oak stomped forward. He was going to murder whatever called the central chamber its home and he was going to enjoy doing the deed.

 Chapter 38

    The whispers had returned with a vengeance.


    The voices haunted the passages formed of meat and sinew, filling every nook and cranny of the fifth floor of the Imperial Library with their malevolent presence.


    That did not improve Oak¡¯s already abysmal mood. The mess with the tentacles had left him unsure of where it was safe to tread. Walking too close to the tunnel walls did not feel good, since if something burst through the flesh to attack him, he would have no time to react.


    The other option available was not much better. Walking in the middle of the hallway left Oak feeling exposed, because now a tentacle could reach him from either side.


    I love dilemmas, and they love me. You get through one and what do you know? There is always another waiting around the corner.


    They reached an intersection of hallways. Oak was just about to poke his head around the corner, and have a look around before crossing, when something moved in the corner of his vision. He spun around, ready to defend himself from an emerging tentacle. There was nothing there.


    Every hair on Oak¡¯s neck stood on end as he stared at the wall of flesh in front of him.


    ¡°I could swear something moved,¡± he said.


    Ur-Namma shrugged. The elf had clearly not seen anything. Geezer also seemed none the wiser. Since the route towards the entrance to the southern tower was once again blocked by a wall of flesh, Oak led his companions straight through the intersection towards the center of the fifth floor.


    The ceiling on the fifth floor was not as high as it had been on the floors below and as Oak walked along the tunnel, the distance between the top of his head and the flesh covered ceiling kept narrowing. All around him, the layer of flesh was thickening, filling up the hallway. The tunnel of meat they were walking in was narrowing, just like the charnel pit in his dream the other night.


    I hope this ends differently, he thought, and shook himself. It was a bad time to lose focus.


    A flash of movement inside the wall of flesh on his left made Oak flinch, and he spun towards it, sword raised to find whatever he had seen long gone. There was no sign of anything preparing to burst through the wall. The red glow of the cursed flesh revealed only the faces of his companions and the shaking point of his falchion.


    The whispers intensified. It felt like they were mocking him.


    Oak let out a shaky breath. ¡°Now there definitely was movement inside the flesh,¡± he said. ¡°If there wasn¡¯t, I¡¯m really seeing things.¡±


    Ur-Namma shook his head. ¡°Take heart. You are not losing your mind. This time I saw it too, though I did not perceive the nature of our adversary.¡±


    ¡°It is very comforting to know that the monster stalking us inside the walls is real,¡± Oak said in a deadpan manner.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t it?¡± Ur-Namma asked and fingered the hilt of his longsword. ¡°Be ready for anything, my friend.¡±


    ¡°I was born ready,¡± Oak said with more confidence than he truly felt, and started walking again.


    The ghastly sights, sounds and smells of their surroundings were getting to him. He stirred up the anger in his heart as he walked, feeding the flames of his murderous rage. Oak had always found it hard to be angry and scared at the same time. Anger was such an all-encompassing emotion to him that there was no room left for being afraid.


    Despite the furnace of rage Oak was carefully stoking inside his chest, he still screamed like a little girl, when a skeletal hand broke the surface of the wall of flesh on his left and tried to rip out his throat. He dodged the fingers, trying to close around his windpipe, with barely any room to spare.


    The failure of their ambush did not deter the owner of the hand. A skeleton burst through the thick layer of red flesh covering the wall of the hallway, and lunged at Oak with its arms spread wide. Since he could not bring up his sword in time, he kicked the skeleton in the chest instead, and sent it flying backwards.


    The undead tumbled a bit before he came to a stop and righted himself. By the height and look of the skeleton, Oak was pretty sure they had found an undead dwarf. The revenant had seen better days. All flesh and skin had been stripped from his frame, and he was missing half of his teeth and two ribs from the right side of his ribcage. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    The revenant cocked his head and looked at Oak. The two balls of blue flame in place of the undead''s eyes stared right into his own peepers, and Oak got the feeling the undead dwarf was sizing him up.


    Oak sized the undead up in turn. Maybe the revenant¡¯s condition was not too bad, considering the fact that the bastard had been literally crawling inside the walls. He was no expert on the matter, but that did not seem like an ideal environment for corpse preservation. Mausoleums were dry to a fault, and this was the exact opposite.


    Not that it was all bad. There wasn¡¯t a speck of dust inside the fifth floor.


    ¡°Right. Let¡¯s dance, Bony,¡± Oak said and charged the undead dwarf.


    In a move that took Oak by complete surprise, the dwarven revenant did not run forth to meet him. The undead ignored him completely, and just calmly walked right at the wall of the hallway. The layer of flesh opened up, and the revenant vanished inside. By the time Oak reached the spot where the revenant had disappeared to and sank his falchion into the cursed flesh in an attempt to harm the bastard, the skeleton was long gone.


    Oak was left standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the wall with a stupid look on his face as he tried to process the fact that a dwarf had just abandoned a fight.


    ¡°All right. What do you make of that, elf?¡± he asked once he could get over the impossibility of the situation. ¡°Seems like we found one of those missing dwarves of yours.¡±


    ¡°So it seems. Not a great conversationalist, this one,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Be on your guard. He might return.¡±


    ¡°I really wanted to introduce the revenant to some elvish steel, but if he wants to leave and never return, that suits me just fine.¡± Oak sighed. ¡°Either way, this will come to a head soon enough.¡±


    ¡°I couldn''t agree more. Let¡¯s hope the head this mess falls upon does not belong to any of us,¡± Ur-Namma said. The elf had a twinkle in his eyes. ¡°I, for one, would like to keep my skull intact.¡±


    Oak groaned. ¡°Now, who was it that said I tell bad jokes?¡± he asked, and gave Ur-Namma a pointed look.


    ¡°I am above the petty critique of the peasantry, savage.¡± Ur-Namma scoffed and waved away all criticism towards his royal person. ¡°Lead the way, barbarian.¡±


    ¡°Of course, general.¡± Oak mocked, but he did as the elf asked. ¡°Ever in your service, my lord.¡±


    All available routes led towards the central ritual chamber, and Oak followed the demands of necessity. His soggy footwraps squelched inside his boots, unraveling a little more with every miserable step he took, bunching up under his toes. The smell of rotting blood clung to him now like a jilted lover with a foot fetish.


    Thump, thump, thump. The heartbeat under his feet was growing stronger, and the whispers at the edge of his hearing had quieted down.


    Oak could feel it in his bones. The opportunity to commit violence was fast approaching, and he welcomed it with open arms.


    ***


    The heavy double doors of the central ritual chamber stood closed in front of Oak. The sight of them came as a relief. All the way here, the tunnels of flesh they had been traveling through had only gotten smaller and smaller. By now, Oak¡¯s head was brushing against the ceiling, and his shoulders were not far off from rubbing against the walls.


    Oak had feared that he might have to fight while crouching down, a prospect he would rather avoid. He did not like small and narrow places.


    ¡°Are you up for this?¡± he asked Ur-Namma.


    ¡°No, but the demands of necessity are not easily thwarted. I will fight,¡± Ur-Namma replied, and drew his longsword. For the first time since the elf had laid his hands upon the blade, it did not shake in his grip.


    There was no point in asking Geezer. Oak knew the hellhound was terrified, but when push came to shove, he would fight. Instead, he scratched Geezer behind the ear and ruffled his fur. Dogs needed to know you loved them every once in a while.


    ¡°Nothing for it. Fight like hell,¡± Oak declared, and ripped the doors of the ritual chamber open.


    The circular space beyond the entrance was spacious and utterly covered in cursed flesh. Distractedly, Oak noticed that the room had a high ceiling. He would have been relieved, but a tower of turgid flesh standing in the center of the chamber captured his full attention.


    He had never encountered such a monstrosity, but it did not take a genius to guess it would be a problem.


    At the top of the tower of cursed meat, stood the torso of an armored female elf. Oak figured she was probably fused to the cursed flesh from the waist down. Her arms had been cut off at the shoulder and her beautiful face was turned towards the ceiling in a silent scream of terror.


    ¡°Ur-Namma?¡± Oak whispered.


    ¡°She used to be the Head Librarian. The Custodian of the Imperial Library,¡± Ur-Namma whispered mournfully. ¡°Her name is Nisaba. I used to spar with her when our schedules allowed it.¡± The elf had that dead-eyed look on his face again. Like all warmth and compassion had bled out of him and only the general remained.


    A revenant dressed in a ratty cloak climbed into view and poked his head over Nisaba¡¯s shoulder. The elf woman shuddered. It was a different undead dwarf than the one that had tried to ambush Oak earlier.


    ¡°My name is Ticasuk,¡± the revenant said and wrapped a skeletal hand around Nisaba¡¯s throat. He began to gently stroke the elf¡¯s neck. ¡°Welcome to my humble abode, wayward souls.¡±

 Chapter 39

    ¡°Welcome to my humble abode, wayward souls,¡± Ticasuk said.


    The revenant¡¯s voice was the sound of rock breaking. The ruination of the bones of the earth rang in his words. Oak could hear stone groaning and shifting on the ceiling from nothing else but the strength hidden in the undead dwarf¡¯s inflection of the common tongue.


    Oak shared a look with Ur-Namma, while Geezer hid behind his legs. If Ticasuk has time to cast a single spell, we are dead. No ifs, no buts. We will be a smear on the ground. His every sense was firing on overdrive, and the beat of his own heart sounded like a smith hammering an anvil next to his ear.


    ¡°I would ask for the reason for your arrival, but alas, it matters not. You have come and you will never leave,¡± Ticasuk said. ¡°Rest easy. Your demise will serve a glorious purpose. It will feed my greatest work yet.¡±


    Geezer growled. There wasn¡¯t a single corner or a hard, straight surface in the circular ritual chamber, but despite that, the low rumbling echoed in the room. A faint smell of sulfur suffused the air, and the hairs on the back of Oak¡¯s neck stood on end. That was not normal. Something was definitely going on with the hellhound, but he could not afford to take his eyes off Ticasuk.


    Whatever abilities Geezer was developing, they could wait. As casually as Oak could, he brought his falchion up to rest on his left shoulder, and slipped his right hand in his pocket. He palmed a rock and waited for the right moment.


    Ur-Namma looked around the chamber before he locked eyes with Ticasuk. ¡°We are walking on top of her, aren¡¯t we? She is growing all along the floor, the walls and the ceiling. All of this flesh is Nisaba¡¯s. She fills the entire floor and more besides,¡± the elf said with a detached voice that sent a shiver coursing down Oak¡¯s spine.


    People used that tone to talk about the weather, not horrific rituals.


    Nudge in his stance, a shuffle of his feet. Slowly, Oak settled into a better position. What did Ur-Namma say? There is not much a mage can do if you cut their head off before they can cast a spell. He imagined the throw in his mind. How it would have to hit for the three of them to continue drawing breath.


    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t you see? Our growing girl is so hungry. Always growing. We must feed her, we do,¡± Ticasuk said and stroked Nisaba¡¯s twitching face with a single skeletal finger. ¡°We already gave the meat off our bones. Now you must give yours.¡±


    The cursed flesh covering the floor parted and four revenants rose to the chamber. Among them was a cobbled-together monstrosity of bone. It looked like the result of a child with no knowledge of anatomy piecing multiple dwarven skeletons together.


    The monster was the height of two dwarves combined, and he had four arms ending in sharp claws sticking out of a thick torso. A tail swished back and forth behind the monster''s back, and six eye sockets filled with blue flame stared at Oak from three separate heads. The hatred in the monster¡¯s gaze was palpable.


    The monstrosity was not the only revenant to draw Oak¡¯s eye. One of the others looked familiar. He was missing half of his teeth and two ribs from the right side of his ribcage.


    ¡°The four armed fellow is called Yutu. I believe you already met our dear Qimmig,¡± Ticasuk said, and pointed at the revenant who had tried to sink his skeletal fingers into Oak¡¯s throat. ¡°He got a little overeager and acted without permission, didn¡¯t you, Qimmiq?¡±


    The revenant in question looked away without a word. Ticasuk shook his head like a disappointed grandfather. ¡°I had to discipline him. The young generations, am I right? No respect for their elders. I always say¨C¡±


    Oak pulled the rock from his pocket and threw it as hard as he could. He put every pound of weight in his body, and all the strength he could muster, behind that throw. The rock tore through the air like an arrow fired from a warbow, and struck Ticasuk in the middle of his forehead.


    The dwarven revenant¡¯s skull exploded in a shower of bone fragments and the mage toppled backwards, not unlike a puppet whose strings had just been cut.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 1 Soul


    + 3 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Technically, Ticasuk¡¯s head was still attached to the rest of his body, but Oak considered that a job well done. The other revenants stared at Ticasuk¡¯s unmoving corpse, utterly flabbergasted by the turn of events. He palmed another rock, and all hell broke loose.


    The Custodian of the Imperial Library screamed in rage, and the entire ritual chamber trembled. Barbed tentacles and long spikes erupted from every surface seemingly at random and tried to strike anything they could reach.


    Oak threw the rock in his hand at Qimmig and pulverized the revenant''s right shoulder. A trio of tentacles tried to wrap around his ankle, but by the skin of his teeth, Oak dodged the barbed appendages. Then Yutu was on him, and Oak was too busy trying to stay alive to throw stones.


    ***


    Ur-Namma of the Tribe of Shara danced on the edge of death.


    An undead dwarf holding an arming sword was doing their very best to cut him to pieces. He directed another blow aside and stepped just so, to dodge the follow up swing. The overworked muscles in his arms and back screamed with effort.


    Every moment of suffering is a step towards retribution, Ur-Namma thought, repeating the mantra in the back of his mind.


    It was infuriating to be on the back foot against an opponent of such low caliber. Ur-Namma could see what he should do and how he should do it. He could envision the destruction of his enemy and the steps needed to get there. It amounted to very little because his body could not execute the actions his mind required of it.


    The revenant lunged forward, trying to skewer Ur-Namma through the stomach just as a tentacle whipped towards him from the side. This will be tricky. I¡¯m too slow to block both strikes. He stepped back and then to the left, moving his tired feet as fast as he could. A sweep of his longsword pushed the revenant¡¯s thrust away from his person and, at the same time, he leaned as far to the left as he could.Stolen novel; please report.


    The tip of the tentacle brushed his cheek and drew a line of red on his face. Blood flowed from the shallow wound.


    Ur-Namma¡¯s riposte was clumsy, but he landed a strike on the revenant¡¯s skull. Sadly, there was no strength behind the blow and his sword bounced off the bone. He chastised himself for even trying such a move.


    Trust Oak and Geezer and keep yourself alive, fool. This battle will not be decided by your hands.


    A roar echoed through the chamber. Ur-Namma saw Oak cut one of the regular revenants in two with his falchion before Yutu tackled him. The monstrosity was missing one of its four arms. Somehow, the northerner ended up on top after a moment of frenzied wrestling, and started slamming the pommel of his sword through the skull of one of Yutu¡¯s three heads.


    They seem to get along like a house on fire, Ur-Namma thought, and let a small smile grace his face. The savage¡¯s conduct in battle always pleased him.


    The undead dwarf fingered the groove Ur-Namma¡¯s sword had made into his skull and let out a noise. Then the revenant walked forward with complete confidence. Belatedly, Ur-Namma realized the undead was chuckling. The revenant now knew Ur-Namma could not harm him.


    Curses flew from Ur-Namma¡¯s lips as the revenant pushed him backwards with no regard for defense or safety. Landing a strike had been a fatal mistake. Uncaring in the face of Ur-Namma¡¯s blade, the undead dwarf walked through his strikes until finally the skeleton caught Ur-Namma¡¯s blade and twisted it from his grip.


    Ur-Namma wiped the sweat from his eyes and waited for death. He was spent. The revenant lifted his blade and was just about to strike him down, when Geezer bounced on the undead¡¯s back, and bit down on his skull. With a crack that resembled the sound of a stone tablet shattering to pieces, the skeleton¡¯s skull crumbled under the hellhound''s teeth.


    Geezer threw a look at Ur-Namma, and charged back into the fray.


    Good boy, Ur-Namma thought, and collapsed. He sat on the floor, breath shuddering through overtaxed lungs. From the corner of his eye, he could see Geezer ragdolling Qimmiq around. The hellhound had his teeth locked around the revenant¡¯s spine and he was shaking the undead dwarf apart.


    A very good boy, Ur-Namma thought, just as a tentacle slammed into his side with bruising force and darkness took him.


    ***


    Oak was having the time of his life. He lifted what remained of Yutu on his shoulder and made sure his grip was secure. Then he smashed the undead to the floor with bone crushing force. Yutu twitched and tried to weakly claw at Oak¡¯s arm¡¯s with his remaining hand, but it amounted to nothing. Oak gave the jigsaw puzzle of bones some good old elbows to the face.


    It was hard to miss, since Yutu had three heads.


    The fingers of one hand closed tight on the monster¡¯s neck, the fingers of the other held onto a leg. Oak placed his right foot on top of Yutu¡¯s chest, leaned back until his arms were straight, and pulled the struggling revenant apart with all of his might.


    Arms and back straining with effort, Oak pulled until a snap heralded his success and he was left holding a skeletal leg and a short stretch of spine ending in three skulls. Yutu¡¯s torso laid on the floor under his boot. He had already smashed two of the heads into pieces, so he finished the job by dropping the heads on the floor and stomping on the third.


    All in a good day''s work. Oak wiped his hands on his trousers. He felt like whistling.


    A pained yelp woke Oak up from his bout of euphoria, and he snapped his gaze towards the sound. Tentacles had wrapped themselves around Geezer and they were dragging the struggling hellhound down inside the cursed flesh. Frantically, Oak searched for Ur-Namma, but the elf was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Fuck! Hang in there Geezer, I will put a stop to this!¡± Oak shouted and picked up his falchion. Without hesitation, he charged the tower of turgid flesh standing in the center of the chamber. The Custodian had to die, and she had to die quickly.


    A forest of tentacles rose to meet Oak¡¯s charge, but he would not be deterred. He cut his way through with wide swings of his falchion, slicing the tentacles like a farmer reaping the year''s harvest. A spike of bone flashed past the tentacles to stab at his eyes, but Oak moved his head out of the way at the last moment, and rushed around it.


    The former Custodian of the Imperial Library was still screaming when Oak reached the base of the tower of meat. He cast the hottest burst of flame he could muster at the tower and watched as flesh blackened and cracked, melting in the heat of the fire.


    Nisaba¡¯s screaming intensified tenfold. The Custodian writhed in pain at the top of the tower, and so did every tentacle in the ritual chamber. The waves of sound painted a clear picture of the chamber to Oak¡¯s mind, and he could see Geezer breaking free from the grasp of the tentacles, just as he sank his falchion to the base of the tower of flesh.


    The task at hand reminded Oak in many ways of felling a tree, except a tree had never tried to kill him while he was cutting it down. A tentacle emerged from the side of the tower and tried to wrap itself around Oak¡¯s neck, while a long spike of bone that resembled a spine shot out of the ceiling towards his face.


    Oak grabbed the tentacle with his left hand and slapped the spike aside with his falchion. The spike retracted back inside the flesh covering the ceiling. Undeterred by Nisaba¡¯s attempts to take his life, he tore the tentacle free of the cursed flesh in a shower of blood. It writhed in his hand like a skewered snake, and he chucked it away as fast as he could.


    Come on, I know you want to. He feinted a strike towards the base of the tower.


    The long spike of bone shot towards Oak from the ceiling once more, but this time he did not let it retract. He moved his head to the side to dodge the initial thrust, and as the spike passed his right ear, Oak snatched hold of it and ripped it off the ceiling. Returning it back to its rightful owner seemed like fair play, so he thrust it through the tower of flesh and left it there.


    ¡°Keep hold of that for me,¡± Oak said and rolled his shoulders. It was time to finish this bullshit.


    It took ten savage chops to topple Nisaba. Every tentacle and spike of bone in the chamber seized their movement and lay still when the tower and the female elf at the top of it tumbled to the floor of the chamber.


    Oak walked to Nisaba¡¯s side. She screamed and trashed mindlessly on the floor of the chamber, unseeing eyes staring into nothingness. The water-drawn line between scary and pathetic was ever moving with the tides, and the custodian has passed on the side of the pathetic. She looked and sounded like a fish on dry land, if fish could scream.


    ¡°I reckon you did nothing to deserve any of this, but I have only one cure to offer,¡± Oak said, and beheaded the elf. ¡°Be at peace.¡±


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 3 Souls


    + 5 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Geezer had not been idle while Oak was battling Nisaba.


    The hellhound was digging a hole into the cursed meat close to the chamber¡¯s wall, and Oak rushed to help him. The worry for Ur-Namma was making him feel sick. He pulled out his short sword and started cutting into the flesh. The elf had to be alive.


    What will you do if he is not? He did not have an answer.


    It required some delicate work, since Oak did not want to accidentally stab Ur-Namma, but eventually one of the elf¡¯s arms came into view. Even in death, the flesh seemed reluctant to let its prize go. Oak yanked Ur-Namma free from the cursed meat¡¯s grasp and slapped the unconscious elf awake.


    Ur-Namma gasped for breath and coughed out a mouthful of blood onto the front of his own robe. It wasn¡¯t the end of the world. After all, the elf was absolutely drenched in blood already.


    ¡°How¡¯s it hanging?¡± Oak asked. It seemed like a reasonable question.


    In response, Ur-Namma tried to knee him in the nuts. Twice. Immense relief washed away Oak¡¯s worries.


    He is going to be alright.

 Chapter 40

    Getting away from the fifth floor felt amazing.


    Oak could have kissed the bare stone under his boots. He laid his rucksack on the floor and slumped down next to it. The three of them had legged it to the entrance to the southern tower as soon as Ur-Namma had stopped coughing his lungs out of his body.


    Currently, they were resting in a lounge at the bottom of the southern tower. They had stopped here because the room had a functioning magical lantern. The light it cast resembled a roaring fireplace, which was a welcome change from the reddish glow of the cursed flesh.


    For once, Oak was the least hurt of their company, and he had bruises all over his body. The stab wound on his left arm had opened a bit during the fight, but other than that, he felt mostly okay. The others were not faring as well.


    Geezer was limping slightly. Oak had examined the hellhound''s left front leg and luckily it did not seem broken. The muscles were likely just sprained. It was nothing compared to getting stabbed in between the ribs and, considering how fast the dog had recovered from that, Oak was not worried. Geezer would be right as rain after he ate a bit and got some rest.


    Ur-Namma had a nasty, purple bruise the size of a dinner plate on his right side, and the elf was bone tired. Comparatively, the pain and the exhaustion did not seem to rate too high on the list of problems Ur-Namma cared about. Above all else, the elf seemed disgusted by the blood and gunk covering his skin and clothes.


    ¡°I tell you, I have suffered many humiliations during my life, but this ranks highly among them all. What I would not give for a bath,¡± Ur-Namma muttered. ¡°I thought losing my hair was an indignity, but now I see it was a blessing in disguise. If I still had it, I would have to cut it off myself.¡±


    ¡°You know what I admire about you, elf?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Even after all you have been through, you are such a good little optimist. Always searching for that silver lining in the storm clouds above us.¡±


    ¡°Rain. What a beautiful idea,¡± Ur-Namma said in a wishful voice. ¡°I want to stand outside in a thunderstorm and let the tears of the sky wash me clean of this filth.¡±


    Oak sniffed the air and made a face. ¡°You do smell quite a bit. My nose has already gotten used to my own stench, but this? This is another level of disgusting.¡±


    ¡°Oh, believe me. I¡¯m well aware,¡± Ur-Namma replied.


    ¡°We could swing by the grove we found near the sewer entrance after we have emptied your sister''s vault. It constantly rains inside the groves, and we really need to replenish our water supplies soon anyway,¡± Oak proposed. ¡°You can take a wash under one of those streams of rainwater dropping down from the trees, and I can see if I have collected enough souls to get another boon from Ashmedai.¡±


    The mere idea of a wash made Ur-Namma smile. ¡°Sounds like a fine plan to me. I declare my support.¡±


    ¡°I graciously accept it.¡±


    At the moment, Oak was just happy they were all mostly in one piece. The journey through the Imperial Library had been harrowing thus far, and he could not wait to be done with the place.


    ¡°Do you mind if I work on some theurgy while we rest?¡± Oak asked. ¡°There are some things in my sanctuary that need tending to.¡±.


    ¡°By all means. I¡¯ll poke you with my longsword if the situation requires your attention.¡±


    ¡°No stabbing!¡± Oak said and got into a comfortable position.


    Geezer trotted next to him and slumped down on top of his legs. The hellhound made for a nice, if a bit heavy, blanket.


    ¡°You keep watch, alright boy?¡± Oak said, and closed his eyes. The last thing he felt before diving was Geezer¡¯s snout poking at his fingers.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ***


    The soft rustling of leaves welcomed Oak home. It smelled of pine needles and sap.


    The sanctuary looked just like Oak had left it the last time he had dived inside his own mind, with one exception. The wraith of the Librarian swung from the branches of the great tree in the center of this imagined homestead with a noose around his neck.


    Unlike the other ghosts, the armored elf radiated the glacial cold of a polar night. Those long days in the North when even the sun has escaped from the winter¡¯s bite and dawn never arrives to chase away the darkness. When the howling of wind silences the howling of wolves and all of Creation stands still. The wraith¡¯s spear glistened with ice and frost covered the rope around its neck.


    Currently, the wraith was connected to Oak¡¯s wards. He pulled the wraith down to the ground with a thought and opened the knot which secured the noose to the tree. He would have to make some changes to make sure he could release the wraith with a simple mental command.


    A quick-release knot was needed here and Oak decided to use the highwayman¡¯s hitch.


    Holding a bight of rope against the branch, Oak got to work. He placed a second bight behind the branch and around the initial bight, before passing the bight of the tail in front of the branch and through the first bight. Happy with his work, Oak tightened and secured the knot.


    Now, all he needed to do was pull the tail with a thought, and the wraith of the Librarian would be released.


    That over and done with, Oak reconfigured the wraith''s connections to the wards guarding his mind from harm. Using the Librarian like a mere ghost to power his wards was fine in most situations, but its true potential lay elsewhere.


    With extreme care, Oak made sure every connection from the wraith to his wards was spun correctly. It would not do for there to be any backlash when he released the wraith from its place in powering the wards. In any situation that required such an act, every moment counted.


    The changes Oak made to the Librarians'' connections should allow him to send the wraith into the Waking Dream, where it could perform a more active type of defense. Ideally, doing its very best to purge who or what was attacking Oak or his friends.


    That could save his life someday if he found himself in a fight, and a spook tried to purge his mind at the same time.


    Next, Oak dragged Kushim¡¯s Bewilderment to the ground.


    The Scribe was its usual confused self, not that the string of memory could be anything else. It was time to study the thought-plague and figure out what made it tick. He would need to know the memory construct inside and out if he wanted to craft similar weapons from other ghosts. As it stood, the only way he could use the thought-plague was to use up his only template of how to make more, and that was unacceptable.


    Oak went over every string contributing to the whole that was Kushim¡¯s Bewilderment, with a critical eye. It was masterfully sewn together, that much he could tell. A true masterpiece of minimalism. There was no fat on the construct. Every piece served a purpose and because of that, the end result was tiny enough it could slip through wards with relative ease.


    Time sped by as Oak lost himself in the stitching and interconnected nature of the thought-plague. Strings of memory formed intricate webs, which often looped back into themselves. It was both mesmerizing and infuriating to witness. It would take a lot of practice to craft something similar. Despite his enthusiasm, Oak could tell he was losing focus. With that in mind, he was not too annoyed to feel the echo of something poking him in the shoulder.


    It was time to wake up. Quickly, Oak put everything back to its place and left his sanctuary. He opened his eyes to find that Ur-Namma was poking his shoulder with his longsword.


    ¡°Stop that.¡± Oak growled and pushed the blade aside. ¡°I¡¯m awake and I¡¯m pretty sure I asked you not to stab me. Two stab wounds are enough for me, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°I got hungry, and I did not want to get up. Pass me those delicious biscuits, will you?¡± Ur-Namma asked. His expression was the picture of innocence.


    Oak sighed and opened the rucksack. One day, elf. One day, when you are not so infirm anymore, I will beat your royal ass like a drum.


    ¡°Since you could not behave yourself, and you called hardtack delicious, Geezer and I are going to eat first,¡± Oak said. ¡°In the meantime, you can think about what you have done.¡±


    Geezer happily accepted a piece of corned beef and devoured it. Oak gave the hellhound another.


    ¡°Hey, savage!¡± Ur-Namma shouted. ¡°I demand my biscuits!¡±


    Oak let the elf¡¯s orders fall on deaf ears and took a bite of his sorry looking sandwich made out of hardtack and beef.


    Listening to Ur-Namma¡¯s whining made the taste of field rations almost palatable. Almost.

 Chapter 41

    ¡°Hey, Ur-Namma. I need you to clarify something for me. Exactly how often did your sister use this reading room of hers?¡± Oak asked.


    They were climbing up the endless staircases of the southern tower and he was feeling a sense of disbelief. Surely no one could enjoy reading enough to go through all this trouble?


    ¡°Occasionally, when she needed access to the texts held in the library¡¯s collection,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°We have been fighting our way through this place for a good day and a half at this point. Now, the fighting has certainly slowed us down a lot, and you ain¡¯t the fastest fellow in your current condition, but this is still an awfully large amount of stairs,¡± Oak said. ¡°What I¡¯m trying to ask is, did Empress Aoibheann really walk all this way to read some books?


    ¡°I mean, surely she had some lowly servants who could have fetched her the tomes she needed and brought them to the palace. I just can¡¯t imagine a member of Elven royalty and the leader of an empire climbing up these stairs and sweating like a pig.¡±


    Ur-Namma started cackling. The elf had to lean against the wall of the staircase to stay on his feet. ¡°How¡­how long have you been pondering this question?¡± Ur-Namma asked, after he had gotten himself under control.


    Oak felt the heat rising on his cheeks. ¡°A fair bit, if you must know,¡± he said, and looked away to hide his own embarrassment. ¡°What is so funny about this, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Empress Aoibheann did not climb up these stairs and sweat like a common farm animal. That would have been beneath her station. May I remind you that my sister was an archmage?¡± Ur-Namma asked, voice filled with pride. ¡°You will find that the reading room has a very large balcony. When she wished to use the reading room, she flew up to the top.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Oak asked. He found the idea of such casual flying incredible.


    ¡°Yes. Just like that. When your age is measured in millennia, you have plenty of time to practice,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°For a human spellsinger, the effort involved might seem pointless, but for an elf? A worthy pursuit.¡±


    ¡°Huh. You learn something new every day,¡± Oak said. ¡°So. Did the people who had to clean this tower also know how to fly?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. Who would waste the time of accomplished mages with run-of-the-mill cleaning duties?¡± Ur-Namma asked. ¡°No one with any regard for efficiency would ever even suggest such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Typical. Must have been a joy to be a cleaner here,¡± Oak said. ¡°I bet the person responsible for dusting that reading room thought about jumping from that balcony once or twice.¡±


    Ur-Namma shook his head in exasperation. ¡°No, you misunderstand. A human or an elf did not clean this tower. My sister commissioned a golem for that.¡±


    Oak stopped and turned to stare at Ur-Namma. Is this princeling serious right now? A golem? ¡°Let me get this straight. Your sister had a big old person shaped chunk of bronze acting as a maid of some sort?¡±


    Geezer had been watching their rear, but now that they had stopped, the hellhound sat down next to Ur-Namma, who absentmindedly massaged the dog''s head with his long fingers. Oak thought it might have looked cute, if Ur-Namma did not have a way of making even petting a dog look like he was planning world domination. Being a walking skeleton did not help matters.


    ¡°It was not just a maid. Golems are expensive and complex works of metallurgy and magic,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°It was fully capable of dealing with all tasks one would require from a war-golem in addition to its understanding of cleaning related duties.¡±


    ¡°Great. Absolutely fantastic.¡± Oak said. ¡°You think it might have been reasonable to tell me there might be a war-golem on the prowl in your sister¡¯s quarters before we reach them?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    These people were entirely too rich. Who forgets a war-golem?


    Now it was Ur-Namma¡¯s turn to look embarrassed. ¡°When you say it like that, it does seem like a vital piece of information. In my defense, it has been over three hundred years since I have been here.¡±


    Oak rested his head against the cool stone wall and sighed. He was going to have to fight that golem if they wanted the contents of Aoibheann¡¯s vault. He was sure of that.


    Damn it all.


    ¡°Pray tell, what am I going to do against a war-golem with a sword?¡± Oak asked. ¡°If I beat it with this falchion until the blade snaps, I might cut a slight groove into the bloody thing.¡±


    Ur-Namma thought about the question for a moment before he answered. ¡°You are correct. A sword is not an ideal weapon when one is facing an opponent made of bronze. We need something hard that can really make a dent into the golem, if the need arises,¡± he said. ¡°Luckily, you are with us, my friend. We will finally have a fitting use for that thick skull of yours.¡±


    Oak snorted. ¡°Oh, you can fuck right off, knife-ear,¡± he said and continued to climb up the stairs. It seemed like their plan was to wing it, and hope for the best.


    Who dares wins. Let''s put that saying to the test.


    ***


    The door opened without even the slightest creak. It was hard to tell whether that was a good or a bad sign, but based on his experiences so far, Oak took it to mean that something murderous had oiled the hinges recently. Pessimism was just plain old realism in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    He and his companions all filed inside, one after the other. They had finally reached Aoibheann¡¯s reading room at the top of the tower.


    It immediately became very clear that a small reading room had a different meaning when you were an empress. The space opened into a large and opulent living space, which had surely been perfect for reading or entertaining a couple of guests and the like. The reading room had a cozy fireplace and there were little couches and loveseats scattered around the room. Bookshelves covered the walls.


    Oak immediately took note of the fact that, compared to the entire library below them, the books here seemed extremely well behaved. There wasn¡¯t even a single book walking around the room. On their left was a door leading further into this little secretive wing at the top of the Imperial Library, while a set of double doors on the opposite wall clearly led onto the balcony.


    Sadly, although the opulence of a bygone age was clear, the room had lost its luster long ago. The loveseats and couches had been ripped apart. The crystal chandelier smashed to ruin and discarded in the corner. Bookshelves laid to waste, and a couple had been pulled down entirely, spilling their contents on the floor. And that was not all.


    In the center of the room, on top of the remains of what must have been a beautiful coffee table, was the carcass of a giant, insectoid monster. Whatever the mess of chitin and blades had been when it was alive, Oak was certain it had to have been too big to fit through the doorway he and his companions had just walked through. It must have climbed up the outside wall of the tower. Or flown.


    Not a comforting sight. Something killed that monster.


    As if responding to his very thoughts, the double doors leading onto the balcony opened and a tall war-golem made of bronze stepped inside. Oak froze on the spot, staring at the old killing machine. The golem was heavily damaged. It dragged its left foot behind it and the arm from the same side was missing. Tiny scratches and dents covered the bronze surface of the war-golem.


    From the corner of his eye, Oak saw Geezer hide behind an overturned couch. Clearly, he is the smartest cookie out of all of us.


    The golem dragged itself into the room and closed the doors behind itself, muttering all the while: ¡°Terrible. Absolutely terrible. What a mess these insects always make. What will the Mistress say when she returns?¡±


    When the golem was about to turn around, it froze for a heartbeat and twitched. Tiny shakes traveled along its enchanted bronze body, and the golem wailed: ¡°Again! A mistake! Why would I close the doors? I can¡¯t just leave the carcass on the floor. I must get rid of it at once! At once, the Mistress would say, at once!¡±


    With painstaking care and reverence, the spindly machine opened the double doors with its singular remaining arm, and hobbled to the carcass. The golem was just about to take hold of the insect''s body with its claws so it could drag the carcass outside when it noticed it was not alone.


    Two merciless bronze eyes snapped towards Oak and Ur-Namma, radiating outrage.


    ¡°Intruders detected. Engaging hostile lifeforms,¡± the war-golem said, and brandished its claws.

 Chapter 42

    ¡°Intruders detected. Engaging hostile lifeforms,¡± the war-golem said. Empress Aoibheann¡¯s maid began limping across the living room, straight towards Oak.


    ¡°Oh boy,¡± Oak said.


    The golem sure looked angry. He had really hoped the golem would recognize Ur-Namma, and stand down, but it seemed like that was not in the cards. They would have to fight.


    Nothing for it.


    ¡°I will head through that door to my sister''s private quarters and try to find that vault. Keep the golem busy,¡± Ur-Namma said and hobbled towards the door on their left.


    ¡°Right. Keep it busy. How exactly am I supposed to do that?¡± Oak asked, but only the click of a door closing answered his question.


    The elf was already gone.


    Son of a bitch, Oak thought and drew his falchion. It would not do much against a golem, but it wasn¡¯t like he had anything better on hand.


    Geezer was still resolutely hiding behind the overturned couch on Oak¡¯s right, so he circled away from the hellhound. It wasn¡¯t like teeth would deal with enchanted bronze any better than elvish steel, so Oak thought it best to keep the golem away from his dog.


    The war-golem¡¯s dented, featureless face turned in tandem with Oak¡¯s steps, eyes following his every movement. It launched itself forward without warning, claws aimed right at his chest. For a cripple, the thing was deceptively fast. Oak dodged to the left and barely got out of harm''s way. The enraged war-golem followed him, furious swipes of its clawed hand leading the way.


    Oak made the mistake of blocking a blow and almost paid for it with his life. It was a lucky thing that falchions only have a single edge because even in its damaged state, the golem was monstrously strong. The impact of the golems'' claws against Elven steel reverberated through Oak¡¯s entire body. It nearly made Oak lose his grip on the handle of his sword and sent the blade flying right at his face.


    The spine of Oak¡¯s blade bashed its owner in the face and broke his nose with a crack. Stars danced in his vision and tears of pain filled his eyes. Instinct took over, and he dove away from the golem, jumping over a nearby loveseat to make some much needed distance between himself and the killing machine.


    Oak¡¯s arms felt numb. The golem, as was expected with a metallic monster crafted for war, did not care a whit and limped after him. The lame leg and the missing arm barely slowed the thing down. Disregarding the unfortunate fact that the golem was trying its best to kill him, Oak could admit it was an impressive piece of magic.


    Geezer poked his head out from behind the couch and took stock of the situation. Oak could not begin to guess the hellhound''s exact thoughts, but apparently the situation was not yet dire enough for him to join the battle. Not much of a surprise. The dog was and had always been a lovable coward.


    ¡°Right,¡± Oak said. ¡°Let''s try this again.¡±


    The golem did not answer. It tried to climb over the loveseat Oak had dived over. The thing had probably tired of walking around furniture. From Oak¡¯s point of view the end result was a fortunate disaster. The golem was so heavy that its narrow foot went through the cushions and snapped the frame. Its left knee joint did not seem able to extend the leg properly, and as a result, the golem fell on its face, the loveseat still attached to its leg.


    Oak did not stand around and wait. The ghosts inside his falchion wailed in alarm as he repeatedly struck the golem¡¯s head with all of his considerable strength, before the golems'' grasping hand made him retreat.


    By the Chariot. I barely left a scratch.


    While the thing freed itself from the clutches of the loveseat and got back on its feet, Oak examined the surface of the golem. There wasn¡¯t even a scratch on the golem¡¯s forehead. If he kept at it, he might actually snap the falchion in two.


    Before they had stepped into the tower, Oak had already felt sympathetic towards Ur-Namma. Losing loved ones was difficult. Now he felt genuine sorrow for the loss of Aoibheann. If possible, he would have liked to bring her back to life just so he could put her back in the dirt with his own two hands.


    Who the fuck has a war-golem as their maid? These rich bastards were clearly out of control and someone should have been keeping them in check. I mean, what¡¯s wrong with having help that¡¯s made of flesh and blood?The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Desperate and out of ideas, Oak turned tail and ran towards the double doors leading onto the balcony. Beating the golem with his fists seemed like a terrible plan doomed to failure. That was concerning because it was the only plan he had at the moment. Maybe he could figure out a solution while he ran away.


    Still breathing. Still time to fuck up someone''s day. He burst through the doors and found himself on a large balcony.


    It was strange to be outside again. Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah spread out all around him and Oak looked at the city from on high, like the ruler of this city once had. The distance to the ground below was long enough to give him pause.


    Perfect.


    Breathing hard, Oak sprinted away from the doorway. If the sound of metal striking stone behind him was any sign, the golem was hot on his heels. When he was two paces from the balcony¡¯s railing, he turned around and readied himself.


    The golem cleared the doorway with jerky motions and stepped onto the balcony. It stared at Oak, and somehow its expressionless face conveyed murderous intent. The claws in the golem''s remaining hand twitched back and forth.


    ¡°Come on then,¡± Oak whispered. ¡°Take a swing at me. You know you want to.¡±


    The golem charged, and Oak prepared himself. He would only have one chance at this. When the war-machine was almost upon him, it lunged right for his throat. Oak dropped low and rolled to the side.


    Lots of things happened very quickly.


    The golems claw missed Oak¡¯s neck by the width of a hair, and instead snagged on the collar of his jacket. The mad lunge of the bronze machine of war sent it careening past him, and when the weight of the golem landed on its lame leg, the damaged knee buckled and it pitched forward. Straight towards the railing of the balcony and the empty air behind it.


    The momentum of a charging statue made of bronze was a frightening thing to witness. It was like a heavy stone, rolling downhill. Oak felt it firsthand when he was pulled along for the ride as the golem smashed through the railing of the balcony, dragging him towards the edge.


    Towards a long drop and a sudden stop.


    Oak clawed at the floorboards of the balcony, leaving fingernails and a trail of blood behind. Hands reaching, clawing for salvation, Oak grabbed hold of a still intact piece of railing as the golem dragged him past it, and then there was nothing between him and the merciless streets and rooftops below.


    Shit, shit, shit!


    Even if he had been able to remember a single prayer, no such thing would have passed between his lips. He was too scared to form a coherent thought, let alone pray.


    The collar of Oak¡¯s jacket tore when the weight of the golem yanked on it, trying to pull him along to his death. The sound of ripping fabric lifted him from the deepest pit of fear and dragged him gasping to the light. It had torn. The collar had torn. In utter silence, the golem fell from the tower, towards the roof of the Imperial Library. Oak followed its descent with his gaze, waiting for the inevitable impact.


    Accompanied by a tremendous bang, the golem crashed through the roof of the Imperial Library. Roof tiles shattered, and the pieces flew in all directions. By the sound of it, the golem also crashed through the ceiling of the fifth floor before it finally stopped.


    Dazed as he was, Oak still made a note about where the golem landed. If possible, he wanted to have a look at the thing. The loci holding the golems ghosts might be intact, and he wanted them all.


    Geezer¡¯s snout poked Oak in the forehead, waking him from his musings. The hellhound licked his cheek and pulled on his sleeve, whining all the while. Apparently the dog did not like the fact that Oak was dangling from the edge of the balcony.


    ¡°Right. I almost pissed myself.¡± Oak attempted to climb back up onto the balcony. For some reason, his arms had trouble letting go of the railing, but in the end he just about managed it, and dragged himself to safety with Geezer¡¯s help.


    When he no longer felt like his limbs were made of jelly, Oak sat up and shook himself. That had been a tad too close for comfort.


    ¡°You know what Geezer? I¡¯m starting to think me and high places are a poor combination,¡± he said, and gave Geezer a kiss on the top of his head. ¡°Every single time I give one of these spots with a good view a chance, I end up hanging from a ledge by the tips of my fingers.¡±


    Geezer just wagged his tail and gave Oak¡¯s nose a lick.


    What a creature. The smile on Oak¡¯s face was so wide his cheeks hurt. It was good to be alive. Great, even. He scratched Geezer behind the ears, and just enjoyed the moment.


    Now, hold up. Am I seeing things or has he grown bigger again?


    As far as he could tell, the dog was at least two inches taller than he had been before. Slightly more muscular as well. Geezer was growing fast. At this rate, the hellhound would be bigger than him in no time. Based on the strange, otherworldly growl the hellhound had let out downstairs, he was also developing his first magical ability.


    ¡°Good boy. Very good boy,¡± Oak said and gave Geezer a hug. The hellhound took it as an invitation to wrestle, and Oak obliged the young dog. He even let the doofus win.


    Oak lay there on the balcony with a victorious Geezer drooped over his chest and let out a content sigh.  He had never doubted that Ashmedai would keep his word, but seeing the results with his own eyes still filled him with happiness and relief.


    It would take time, but Geezer was eventually going to become a force to be reckoned with.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go big boy, and see what Ur-Namma has been up to while I risked my life,¡± Oak said, and struggled back to his feet. ¡°If the elf has not made himself useful, I will give him a quick introduction to that golem. By throwing him after it.¡±

 Chapter 43

    It turned out that Ur-Namma had, in fact, made himself useful.


    When Oak and Geezer walked into the inner sanctum of Aoibheann¡¯s little home away from home at the top of the southern tower of the Imperial Library, the elf had his ear pressed against the wall. He was knocking on the stone with his fist in a steady beat and listening closely.


    Aoibheann¡¯s private quarters were cozy. The little chamber housed a bed, a nightstand, a single bookcase, and two wooden shrines. The bigger and older of the two shrines was dedicated to the Mother. A small painting stood on the wall above the beautifully carved and painted shrine, and it showed a female form seated on the Throne of Heaven, surrounded by the angelic Choirs. The entire ensemble made it look like the Light of Heaven was dripping from the painting onto the wooden shrine like lines of gold.


    The shrine to the Choir of the Ophanim was clearly a later addition, standing a bit awkwardly next to the shrine of the Mother. It was less grandiose, and a small statue of an Ophanim was placed on top of it. Oak felt like the interlocking wheels of fire lined with eyes were staring straight at his soul. He turned away from the statue and did his best to ignore it.


    It was not that surprising to find a shrine to the Ophanim here. The Choir was popular among sailors and mages, since the many-eyed-ones were deeply connected to journeys, knowledge and new horizons. They were the Choir of wayfarers and scholars. Books and research had clearly been close to Aoibheann¡¯s heart.


    Ur-Namma stepped back from the wall. ¡°You came just in time. I believe I have found the vault,¡± he said.


    ¡°Neat,¡± Oak replied. Tingles of excitement were crawling up his spine. They had spent a lot of blood and sweat getting here, and he could not wait to find out if it had been worth it.


    ¡°How did things go with the golem?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°Eh. You¡¯ll see when we make our way down from here.¡±


    Ur-Namma gave him a puzzled look, but let the matter drop. After all, they had more important things to do. The vault and its contents were finally within their grasp.


    ¡°How do we open it?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Well, I say the password, and assuming my sister did not change it without telling me, the vault should open for us,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°If luck is with us, we will find something useful to our cause. Not that I intend to leave here with only a single scroll. We should take as many rituals as we can reasonably carry, so we can sell them later.¡±


    ¡°Sell them? Why?¡± Oak asked. He would have thought Ur-Namma would like to hold on to the possessions of his sister, not sell them to strangers.


    ¡°If I have learned anything in my time as a general, it is that every endeavor requires coin. Usually, quite a bit more coin than you initially imagined,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Make no mistake, my friend, killing Yam-Nahar will require a fortune. Maybe even a couple of fortunes, before everything is said and done.¡±


    Oak shrugged his shoulders and accepted the explanation without complaint. It wasn¡¯t like he had any experience with killing dragons or leading armies. Who was he to argue? Especially when the idea of making a fortune did not sound half bad to him.


    Ur-Namma said a string of words in elvish and fell silent. Oak watched the wall like a hawk, trying to discern if anything was happening. A moment passed. A terrible feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Has the entire journey here been for naught? He was about to open his mouth and voice his disappointment when a click sounded and a square section of the stonewall flung open.


    Oak pumped his fist in the air and laughed. ¡°Hell yeah!¡±


    Ur-Namma¡¯s reaction was much more restrained, but Oak could tell the elf let out a sigh of relief.


    Right there in front of them lay the secret ritual collection of Empress Aoibheann. Simple steel cylinders, stacked neatly on top of each other, filled the small vault from top to bottom. For Oak and Ur-Namma, the worth of the scrolls inside them could very well be beyond measure.


    It is silly how something so small might come to decide the fate of so many. Or maybe it''s fitting. The world is a silly place, after all.


    Oak fingered his beard and focused. ¡°What did that Elven pass phrase mean?¡± he asked.


    ¡°In the common tongue, it means ¡®The Corpse remains¡¯. One of the many hints I missed along the way, and maybe the first sign of my sister''s growing obsession with the Mother¡¯s Corpse,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I thought it was just her way of expressing grief. How wrong I was.¡±


    No words felt enough to convey Oak¡¯s sympathies, so he patted the elf on the shoulder instead. It felt the right thing to do when you did not know what to say. No, that was a lie. He wanted to tell Ur-Namma to stop being so hard on himself, to forgive his past self, but he couldn''t get the words out. How could he, when he treated his own failures like treasured possessions, clutching them tight lest they slip between his fingers.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Sometimes visiting a past mistake gives you no greater understanding. The memory can become like a knife with a second blade in place of the handle. No matter how you grasped it, it would cut you open. Even thinking of saying such a thing out loud made Oak wince.


    The scale of my hypocrisy is breathtaking. I won¡¯t add to it by giving advice I can¡¯t myself follow.


    Ur-Namma blinked and rubbed his tired eyes. It had been a long day, and it did not seem like they could rest for a while yet. ¡°I need to read through every single one of those scrolls to figure out what we want to take with us,¡± he said, and started taking out cylinders from the vault.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡± Oak asked.


    Ur-Namma looked at Oak with an expression that bordered on pitying. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Really? Why?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Can you read elvish?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°No?¡± Oak said.


    ¡°Was that a question? Nevermind. Just sit down and be quiet while I work,¡± Ur-Namma said, and popped open a cylinder. ¡°If you have a desperate need to feel useful, pass me a water bottle and pretend you are asleep.¡±


    The scroll inside seemed quite long, and it was absolutely filled with utterly unintelligible scrawl and diagrams that made Oak¡¯s head hurt. He could not make heads or tails of it.


    This is going to be a long day, isn¡¯t it?


    ***


    Oak was bored out of his mind. He realized he was tapping the floor with his foot again and stopped before Ur-Namma could scold him. It had not taken long for him to realize that waiting around for Ur-Namma to figure out the contents of the scrolls was going to be torturous, but he was too excited to find out if they had succeeded to go to sleep.


    At least he could take off his wet boots and leave his soggy footwraps to dry on the stone floor. He had seen men march with wet feet, and he had no intention of losing all the skin below his ankles if he could help it.


    A certain cycle had developed during their time in Aoibheann¡¯s private quarters.


    Ur-Namma would read scrolls and sort them into three piles. The scrolls they definitely wanted to take with them went to pile number one. The scrolls they could leave behind went to pile number two. The scrolls Ur-Namma was not sure about went to pile number three.


    While the elf read, Oak would grow increasingly bored and start daydreaming. Daydreaming led to Oak tapping his feet. Tapping his feet led to Ur-Namma clearing his throat louder and louder until he snapped out of it and stopped bothering the elf.


    The cycle had repeated itself so many times now that Oak did not know how long it had been since Ur-Namma had started going through the rituals left behind by his sister.


    Ur-Namma yawned and placed the scroll he had been reading back inside its steel cylinder. He placed the cylinder in pile two. Another useless ritual, Oak thought morosely. The fear of leaving here empty-handed was growing inside him.


    I did not think my opinion of Aoibheann could sink any lower, but I was wrong. Besides having been royalty, she collected useless bullshit. Truly, all those who carry a crown should lose their heads.


    The elf picked up another steel cylinder and started opening the cap. Oak could have screamed, but he didn¡¯t. He would not give the elf the satisfaction. Sometimes when Ur-Namma picked up a scroll, Oak was certain he could see a slight smile on the elf¡¯s face. The bastard was enjoying his suffering.


    While Oak tried to hold himself together, Geezer slept like a baby next to him on the stone floor without a care in the world. The dog was huffing in his sleep and every once in a while his paws twitched, like he was dreaming of chasing something. Knowing Geezer, that something was a squirrel.


    The realization that he was the only one who couldn¡¯t handle just waiting around like this frustrated Oak to no end. He wanted to shake the hellhound awake. It was not fair that he was suffering alone. He did not do it because it would have been ridiculous and childish. Geezer had more than earned his rest.


    Would it really be so ridiculous? Just a little shake. Something needs to happen, that¡¯s all I ask. Anything at all.


    Ur-Namma cleared his throat. Oak snapped out of his thoughts and let out a sigh full of suffering and concentrated boredom. He had been tapping his feet again. Bloody hell. Oak focused and made his feet stay still. It was surprisingly difficult to do. Time passed as he stared at the tips of his boots.


    ¡°I¡¯m finished.¡±


    ¡°Oak, are you listening to me? I said I¡¯m finished,¡± Ur-Namma said and placed a metal cylinder in pile one.


    Oak blinked twice in succession. Was he hallucinating, or was this torture truly over?


    ¡°Really?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Did you find what we need to even the scales between us and Yam-Nahar?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Among other things, I found a sacrificial ritual called the Sacrament of Ingurgitation,¡± Ur-Namma said and placed the steel cylinders in pile number one into Oak¡¯s rucksack. ¡°It will require extensive modification, but it is a good starting point.¡±


    The scrolls in their capsules fit inside the rucksack without issue, since it was no longer as full of food as it had been when Oak had originally packed it. In addition to the scrolls Ur-Namma had considered essential, the elf was able to fit around half of pile number three into the rucksack as well, without issue.


    ¡°Wait a damn moment. When did you find that Sacrament of Whatever?¡± Oak asked.


    Ur-Namma had a shit-eating grin on his face. ¡°A long while ago. I just wanted to watch you squirm,¡± he said.


    Oak stared at the elf. If his gaze had been capable of it, he would have lit Ur-Namma on fire.


    ¡°You are such a miserable bastard,¡± Oak said, and stood up. ¡°Tell me everything. What did you find?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s put the cylinders we are not taking with us back in the vault first,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°It''s going to take us ages to climb down the stairs. I will explain what I found on the way down.¡±

 Chapter 44

    ¡°At its core, the Sacrament of Ingurgitation is a ritual of transference,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    The elf shuffled down the stairs of the southern tower with utmost care, one hand trailing the stone wall for support. Geezer was at the front this time around, while Oak took care of securing the rear.


    ¡°At the consummation of the ritual, the recipients gain some aspects and strengths of the sacrifice, both physical and metaphysical.¡±


    Oak cocked an eyebrow. ¡°A ritual of transference?¡± he asked. ¡°What does that mean, exactly?¡±


    ¡°It means that we must ritually consume the flesh of the sacrifice,¡± Ur-Namma said. The fact he sounded ecstatic probably should have worried Oak more than it did, but he was getting used to the elf¡¯s weird antics.


    ¡°Frankly, that seems terrible, but I guess we don¡¯t have much of a choice,¡± Oak said. The way Ur-Namma cackled in response did not reassure him one bit.


    ¡°The problem is, the Sacrament of Ingurgitation is a ritual of human sacrifice,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Even worse. I¡¯m not about to become a cannibal,¡± Oak said. ¡°And before you inquire, my flesh is not available for ritualistic purposes.¡±


    ¡°Silly savage. The morality of the act is not the problem. The problem is the fact that a human is much too weak of a sacrifice for our needs,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°This ritual will require intensive modification before we can use it.¡±


    Oak felt relieved their plans would not require the consumption of human flesh. A great sign. Really sets the tone of our quest, right off the bat. Whatever Ur-Namma was planning to use in the ritual, killing it would surely be an utter pain in the ass.


    ¡°So, tell me. What are we replacing the human sacrifices with? Yam-Nahar¡¯s cousin? Maybe a giant if we can find one?¡± Oak jokingly asked.


    Ur-Namma glanced at Oak. The elf had a strange expression on his face.


    ¡°You are scaring me a bit right now,¡± Oak said. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. ¡°I was just joking around.¡±


    ¡°Joking or not, you were right on the money,¡± Ur-Namma murmured. ¡°We need a powerful sacrifice. What could be better than a relative of Yam-Nahar?¡±


    Oak let out a sigh so deep that a canyon would have felt envy in its presence. ¡°We are doomed,¡± he said and rubbed his tired eyes. ¡°Utterly and completely doomed.¡±


    Ur-Namma just laughed, voice filled with confidence, and followed Geezer down the stairs. The three of them descended in silence for a while until Oak¡¯s curiosity got the better of him again.


    ¡°What else did you find? You must¡¯ve stuffed over a dozen rituals in my rucksack,¡± Oak said. ¡°Did you discover anything useful?¡±


    Ur-Namma shrugged. ¡°Multiple rituals related to farming and the weather. A couple of interesting warding schemes. And one ritual of scrying that could prove very useful to us,¡± he said. ¡°I believe we can sell the agriculture related rituals for good money. I have never met anyone who does not want to increase the yield of their land.¡±


    ¡°Well, there is finally something we can both agree on.¡± Oak grunted. The concept of agricultural rituals reminded him of his neighbors'' back home, and the Cutter patriarch¡¯s obsession with the practice of planting crops. Jon would have sold at least a couple of children for a ritual that made his fields produce more per acre.


    When we get out of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, we are going to need to gather a lot of resources. It was an intimidating prospect, and he saw only one real way to solve it.


    ¡°In summary, we need the help of the best mages on the continent to modify the Sacrament of Ingurgitation, and we need very expensive and hard to acquire ritual ingredients,¡± he said. ¡°Wherever we choose to go, the place must also have buyers for the rituals we don¡¯t need, and we must be able to gain vast amounts of coin to fund our activities.¡±


    ¡°Correct. Not to mention the fact that we need allies,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°There is no way around it. Attacking Yam-Nahar and the forces he has gathered during the centuries he has slumbered here without an army would be the height of foolishness.¡±


    Oak ran the thought over in his head, but found no fault in his own conclusion. ¡°Then I know where we must go,¡± he said. ¡°Our road leads us across the Hundred Kingdoms to Chadash Merkavah. We will journey northwest in the footsteps of those who survived the Doom of this city.¡±


    Ur-Namma stopped and turned to face Oak. ¡°You mentioned this Chadash Merkavah before. Does what you said truly hold water?¡± the elf asked. There was a calculating look in his eye.


    ¡°I have never visited, if that is what you are asking. What I know is based on the words of others, though I have encountered no one who would challenge their claims,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Chadash Merkavah is the greatest city on the continent. Maybe even in the entire circle of the world. If what we need can¡¯t be found there, it might as well not exist.¡±


    ¡°It is decided, then. We journey north,¡± Ur-Namma said, and started shuffling down the circular staircase. ¡°Choosing based on rumors and hearsay is at least marginally better than choosing our direction based on a whim.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Oak let the comment about the sources of his information go and thought about the journey ahead. It would be a long one, and fraught with peril. Based on the stories he had heard, the Hundred Kingdoms were not for the faint of heart. Not to mention that they didn¡¯t really have a plan. Only the barebones of one.


    Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Just the way I like it.


    ***


    The war-golem of Empress Aoibheann had indeed punched straight through the roof of the library and the ceiling of the fifth floor. The fall of the broken killing machine had only been stopped by the thick layer of cursed flesh on the floor of the circular ritual chamber, where Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma had fought the undead dwarves earlier that day.


    The broken skeletons of the undead dwarves lay scattered around the chamber, just like they had when Oak had last laid eyes on them. The only thing that had changed was the smell. It was noticeably worse than before.


    Geezer took one look at the spindly chunk of enchanted bronze and started hugging the walls of the ritual chamber. The hellhound wanted nothing to do with the golem and showed his feelings on the matter by continuously growling at the broken machine.


    Ur-Namma lifted an eyebrow. ¡°I guess that is one way to deal with a war-golem.¡± he cackled. Then he looked at the hole in the ceiling and tempered his mirth. ¡°I hope all of your solutions to problems do not involve such extensive property damage.¡±


    ¡°Hey, if it works, it works,¡± Oak said. ¡°The fact we are all in one piece is good enough for me.¡±


    The remains of the golem were sticking out of the floor, right next to the beheaded body of Nisaba. Oak hopped over the fallen tower of flesh, which had connected the Custodian of the Imperial Library to all the cursed flesh covering the entire fifth floor, and made his way to the golem.


    He was hoping against all odds that the loci of the golem was intact. By some twist of fate, his prayers were answered.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Oak shouted, and swung his fist in the air. ¡°Wait a moment Ur-Namma. I''m going to pilfer those ghosts.¡±


    ¡°Be my guest. But get it done quickly, if you can,¡± Ur-Namma said, but Oak was already too engrossed with the golem to pay the elf any attention to respond.


    Every spook Oak had ever broached the subject with had hated dealing with golems. There were good reasons for that. A spook was about as useful as tits on a bull when faced with a golem. The minds of humans were hard to find in the Waking Dream. Finding the tightly packed and shielded node of ghosts responsible for controlling a golem was an impossible feat, even if you knew the golem''s exact location in the real world.


    A human mind was an incomprehensibly vast reservoir of memories. Not to mention that a human mind was constantly thinking and forming new memories and connections. Compared to the presence and weight of a sentient being''s actual mind, the tightly knit node of ghosts that a golem relied on to function was practically speaking invisible in the Waking Dream.


    After all, a ghost was never anything but an infinitely small imprint of the totality of a person''s existence.


    The only practical way to breach the loci of a golem was to touch it with your own two hands. Touching the loci made finding the shielded node possible, since you had a connection to the node''s physical shell in Creation. For obvious reasons, this was a tall task for the average spook if the golem was still operational.


    A good way to get your innards exposed to the elements. He had many advantages a regular spook could only dream about, and if the golem had been fully functional, it would have murdered him with ease. There is always a bigger fish.


    Oak placed his hands on the golem''s dented head, and dove into the Dream. The familiar shock that came with treading the waters of the Waking Dream inside Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah was blunted slightly by the wraith bolstering his wards.


    He emerged through the swirling echoes of pain unharmed and beheld a vision of the future. In the Dream, the chamber of flesh was already rotting away. Maggots crawled on the cursed tissue and tumbled through the air in giant clumps, wriggling and squirming in their longing for corpse-flesh.


    Flies buzzed in the empty eye sockets of Nisaba¡¯s skull as the head of the elf floated past Oak¡¯s left shoulder. It almost felt like those empty eyes were watching him. Oak shook himself and got to work. There was no time to waste. He held his connection to the loci of the golem tight and followed the path it laid before him.


    Ready for anything, Oak floated to the ceiling and started digging into the rotting meat. Maggots burst from the decaying flesh but he ignored them and carved away with his will, until a tiny, gray pinprick shone among the corpse muck. He reached into the hole he had dug and snatched the node. Finding it without the physical connection would have taken him weeks. Even as he held it in his palm, the node occasionally vanished from his senses.


    With utmost care, Oak chipped away at the node¡¯s wards. They were not especially strong, which was not a surprise. A golem¡¯s node survived by stealth, not by the strength of its protections. The purpose of the wards was to protect the node from the currents of the Waking Dream, not from spooks that could never find it, anyway. Using a twisting motion, Oak drilled the ward with Kaarina¡¯s Horror and soon a small crack formed. One by one, ghosts spilled out and Oak grabbed them all.


    After a brief inspection, he swallowed them.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 10 Ghosts


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Oak was thrilled. In a single triumph, he had almost tripled his own reservoir of ghosts, bringing the total number to seventeen. A world of possibilities opened before him. Now that he had enough ghosts to spare, he could allocate resources to ventures other than his wards. There was no end to what he might be able to create with sufficient effort.


    At least a couple thought-plagues. Maybe a trauma weapon to rival Kaarina¡¯s Horror. But that would be just the beginning. He had heard of techniques to build structures and pathways that could enhance recollection and memory, even boost the speed of one¡¯s thoughts. Techniques Ur-Namma was sure to have some familiarity with, since he was literally royalty.


    With the elf¡¯s help, Oak would build the tools he needed to advance his theurgy to the next level.


    A cracked node in hand, Oak made a quick visit to his sanctuary, and in the shadow of the oak tree he hanged the newly claimed ghosts from the branches, and connected them to his wards. There would be time to tinker later, when they had gotten out of the city.


    When Oak opened his eyes in the real world, his smile was so wide it almost hurt.


    ¡°Got everything you needed?¡± Ur-Namma asked.


    ¡°That, and more,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Let¡¯s leave this place for good.¡±

 Chapter 45

    Compared to the struggle of fighting up the many floors of the Imperial Library, it felt surreal how quickly Oak led his companions back down to the sewer entrance in the dungeons.


    On the return trip, even the horde of books on the fourth floor was easily thwarted. This time they came prepared, and Oak had made torches, two for both him and Ur-Namma. A simple but effective solution which did not require him to strain his soul to the breaking point.


    With Geezer prowling in the murkiness of the tunnel behind them and holding the rear, Oak took the lead. He kept a careful pace, retracing his steps through the sewer tunnels to the manhole they had used to enter the bowels of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    The hissing of ghouls, and the sound of claws scraping against stone, reached his ears from some passages and tunnels on their right, but nothing assailed Oak or his companions as they made their way out of the center of the city.


    That was just as well. Oak did not want to even think about the size a ghoul nest could reach hidden inside the sewer system of a great city. There was no telling what might lurk behind a corner, so he did not deviate from the route they had already traveled once before. At least he knew what those tunnels had been like a couple of days ago.


    When their tired group climbed out of the sewer, the unchanging gloom of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah felt downright blinding. Oak repeatedly blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the difference between the endless dark of the sewers, and the merely murky street he was standing on.


    A nearby sputtering lantern left after images to his vision.


    ¡°I could really use a nap,¡± Oak said, and tried to rub the spots from his eyes and yawn at the same time. ¡°Scratch that. I could use two naps back to back.¡±


    Ur-Namma snorted. ¡°Let¡¯s just get to the grove. I still have slime between my toes,¡± he said and trembled in disgust. ¡°I have been dreaming about washing myself for ages.¡±


    Geezer showed some initiative and started walking down the cobblestone street towards the grove. Oak and Ur-Namma followed. Now that Ur-Namma had mentioned it, Oak noticed that every step the elf took emitted a small but audible squelching noise. He had blocked out the sound a long time ago, since it was so repetitive. Now it brought a small smile to his face.


    Maybe it''s mean of me, but I¡¯m really glad the only shoes I found for the elf happened to be sandals. Truly an endless treasure trove of entertainment.


    ***


    Oak put his rucksack down, removed his sword belt, and collapsed on the warm, soft grass. Geezer slumped on top of his stomach and laid there bonelessly. The dog was out like a light. Water dripped on both of them from the foliage above, and Oak stared at the old maple trees in a sort of religious wonder. It boggled the mind that a speck of the Mother''s flesh, maybe even just a drop of blood, had made this entire grove.


    No wonder Yam-Nahar wants to eat it all.


    Ur-Namma grunted something incomprehensible and walked past him, heading deeper into the grove to wash himself and his clothes. Oak knew he needed to do that as well before they moved on from here, but he just did not have the energy for it at the moment.


    Instead, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift away. It was time to see if he could get another audience with Ashmedai.


    A brief time later, Oak opened his eyes in the already familiar grand hall turned mausoleum of crowned skulls Ashmedai called home. It looked much the same as last time he had been here, but there was one major difference. The melted throne in the center of the hall had been replaced with a small table and a pair of comfy looking brown armchairs.


    A single, tall black candle burned in the center of the table. The air smelled faintly of sulfur and tobacco.


    The demon was already sitting on one of them with his legs crossed and a lit pipe between his lips. The rooster leg was proudly on display.


    ¡°Welcome, welcome,¡± Ashmedai said, and beckoned Oak to join him.


    The armchair turned out to be as devilishly comfortable as it had looked. Oak felt like he was melting into the upholstery. I might have to take this chair with me when I leave. Carrying it out of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah and across the Hundred Kingdoms might be worth all the pain and suffering involved.


    Based on Ashmedai¡¯s grin, the demon knew what he was thinking.


    ¡°You contacted me at an auspicious moment,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°The eyes of the Angelic Choirs should be occupied with events in the south.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening over there?¡± Oak asked, out of simple curiosity. It was not often he got to hear news of far-away lands.


    Ashmedai took a drag from his pipe and breathed out a ring of smoke. ¡°A major offensive in the ongoing war between the Muttalib Caliphate and the Korarim Confederacy. It will not amount to much, but a lot of people are going to lose their lives. The usual stuff.¡±


    ¡°They are at war?¡± Oak asked. ¡°I guess it¡¯s not that surprising that I haven''t heard about it. It takes a while for news to travel across the continent.¡±


    ¡°Have been for the past year. There has been heavy fighting, especially along the coast. Some refugees are heading north,¡± Ashmedai replied. ¡°If you intend to head to Chadash Merkavah, you might find some company on the road.¡±


    ¡°The more the merrier. Traversing the Hundred Kingdoms might be safer if we can join a caravan,¡± Oak said. ¡°It¡¯s a fool''s hope, but if there are enough people moving about, the three of us might attract less attention.¡±


    ¡°I would pray for your success, but luckily there is no God to pray to anymore,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°We must make our own luck.¡±


    Oak nodded. He had nothing smart to say about the Mother¡¯s death, so he changed subjects. ¡°I was hoping you could give me another boon. Maybe even two. I have been a busy bee lately,¡± he said. ¡°But if the angels are preoccupied at the moment, might it be possible for you to give me the cliff notes version of the bigger picture of my mission?¡±


    ¡°Feeling curious, are you?¡± Ashmedai asked. The demon had a twinkle in his eye.


    ¡°Of course. I get why it would make sense to stop a dragon from gaining too much power, but why is it so essential? And why do we need to hide our intention to kill Yam-Nahar from the angels?¡± Oak asked. ¡°You would think that all the Choirs would be happy with the dragon''s death.¡±


    Ashmedai took another drag from his pipe. ¡°Tell me, how do you think me and my fellow demons are doing?¡±


    Oak pondered the question. ¡°Okay, I guess? A lot more worshipers than there were a couple hundred years ago,¡± he eventually said.


    The demon snapped his fingers and pointed towards Oak. ¡°And that, my dear Warlock, is the key. We are doing better every year than the one before and this is a zero-sum game. A person cannot worship both angels and demons,¡± Ashmedai replied. ¡°When one of us gains a worshiper, the angels lose one. The soul is singular, and it can only call one afterlife home.¡±


    ¡°All right, that makes sense to me,¡± Oak said. ¡°But I still don¡¯t get how Yam-Nahar fits into all of this.¡±


    Ashmedai leaned forward. For the first time since Oak had laid eyes on the demon, there was a wrathful glow in his eyes. ¡°I did not use the term ¡®a dragon¡¯s folly¡¯ by accident,¡± the demon said. ¡°Whatever his true purpose, Yam-Nahar will lay waste to the continent when he has finished consuming the flesh of God.¡±


    The hairs on Oak¡¯s neck stood on end.


    ¡°When has a dragon ever accepted nothing less than utter dominion of all he can conquer?¡± Ashmedai scoffed, face twisted with derision. ¡°A dragon of old reborn will emerge from the cocoon of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, and his genocide will finally give the angels what many of them so desperately want.¡±


    ¡°What is it? What do they desire?¡± he whispered. How on earth could anyone truly benefit from such destruction?


    ¡°A chance to start over with a clean slate. The Seraphim, the Ophanim, and maybe more than half of the Hashmallim will stand aside and watch as the dragon ascends, and conquers the continent.¡± Ashmedai frowned. ¡°They will stop the Cherubim and the Erelim from interfering, and when all who would oppose the dragon are ash and dust, when the moment is finally ripe, they will descend and kill the foolish wyrm.¡±


    Expectations were a strange thing. Oak had never worshiped any of the Choirs, and yet, he now found it within himself to feel disappointed by them.


    I guess a small part of me wanted to believe they could be righteous in their own ways. That instead of hurdling alone and unguided through the darkness of the void, we might still find a single objective standard of good and justice to cling to.


    There had to be some kind of cold logic behind it all, but Oak could not see it.


    It felt like a scab had been torn from his mind and instead of blood, it was sorrow that flowed from the wound. Certainty. That has irrevocably been lost during these long years since God¡¯s death, and this will shatter the last remnants of it. For better or worse, we make our own way now. A frightening, but liberating, prospect. No Gods, no kings. Just the better demons and the darker angels of our nature.


    ¡°Take note, Oak, and learn from my mistakes. I didn''t see this coming. Not even in my wildest dreams. I thought they would slowly reform, change some of their ways to attract people back into the fold, but I was thinking like a demon,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°The worst part is that I should have seen it. At what point in time is an enemy the most likely to attack? When their power and influence have reached a zenith. If every day that goes by makes you weaker in relative terms, the best moment to strike will always be right away. After all, the chance of victory will only grow smaller with time.¡±


    Ashmedai shook his head in disgust. Both toward himself, and the Choirs, if Oak¡¯s guess was correct. He could understand that impulse of self-flagellation all too well. During the long months of winter, he had spent more than one evening wallowing in his own failures.


    The demon took a drag from his pipe and continued. ¡°We are bound by rules crafted by the Mother herself. These chains persist beyond her death. No demon or angel of any real power can enter Creation. We must work through proxies and blessings, whisper advice to the ears of our followers, and give signs to those we find worthy,¡± Ashmedai explained. ¡°But the Mother allowed some exceptions. If a threat in Creation becomes so powerful that it threatens all of her Garden, we may take direct action.¡±


    The demon breathed out a cloud of smoke, which transformed into the shape of Pairi-Daeza. ¡°What do you think will happen to this landmass, when an Angelic Choir manifests upon it?¡±

 Chapter 46

    A smoke cloud shaped like the continent of Pairi-Daeza floated in the air between Oak and Ashmedai.


    What do you think will happen to this landmass, when an Angelic Choir manifests upon it? Oak repeated the demon''s question inside his own mind, turning the words over. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He had little success.


    ¡°Nothing good?¡± he finally said.


    Ashmedai chuckled, but there was no mirth to be found in his voice. ¡°The mere presence of a Choir will cleanse all life from the continent. The tablet will be scraped clean.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t understand. What good is a barren wasteland to the angels?¡± Oak asked. He felt strange. Truthfully, he did not know how he felt. This was too big. Too enormous for him to make any sense of it all.


    ¡°I know not their full intentions. Maybe the Choirs will repopulate the lands with members of their congregations living beyond these shores.¡± Ashmedai shrugged. ¡°But make no mistake, Warlock. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. All things must end, and the angels have decided in their heavenly wisdom that the curtains should fall early on Pairi-Daeza.¡±


    The candle on the table had burned down to its halfway point. Oak stared at it, wondering where the time had vanished.


    ¡°There you have it,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°The death rattle of the old order, come to drag us into the abyss.¡±


    The demon stared Oak straight in the eyes and the shadows of the great hall grew deeper. Trapped by that uncompromising gaze, Oak felt like he stood naked before an erupting volcano. Winds of cinder pierced his body and passed through him, caressing his very soul. A question rang inside the heart of Oak¡¯s being.


    Will you cower before the lash and the chain? Or will you fight the coming end to the last drop of blood?


    The winds receded, but the question remained. Oak did not flinch from Ashmedai¡¯s gaze. He looked at his patron and allowed himself to feel the fear coursing through his mind. Like all things, it would pass. He accepted the enormity of the task. Most likely, it would kill him.


    ¡°Out of all souls in Creation, it falls upon an evil man.¡± Oak laughed at the absurdity of it all. ¡°If it is all the same to you, I will spit in the eyes of the Choirs, as I slaughter their dreams. I will scatter their Chosen and cast down their kings. That is my vow, Demon of Wrath. Let the open sky fall upon me, if I break it.¡±


    The smoke cloud hanging in the air dispersed.


    For a time, they sat in silence, looking at each other. Demon and man. Ashmedai leaned back in his armchair. There was something new in the demon¡¯s gaze, though Oak could not place it.


    ¡°What did I tell you, Oak? You have potential. It didn¡¯t take long for you to earn your place as my Warlock,¡± Ashmedai murmured. ¡°Humans never cease to amaze me with their sheer perseverance. Maybe that¡¯s why I like you so much. Most of you are flashes in the pan compared to the lifespans of the Mother¡¯s elder children, but what magnificent flashes you are.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, that was kindly said,¡± Oak replied. He felt untethered from the past and the future. The weight of his promise was only beginning to settle on his shoulders. He looked at the candle again. Less than half of it remained. ¡°Since our time draws to a close, I must change the subject. Before I leave, might I receive a boon or two? As I mentioned, I have been busy feeding souls to my engine.¡±


    Ashmedai clapped his hands in delight. ¡°Of course! Let us get straight to it. I would be a lousy patron if I let my Warlock perish out of negligence.¡±


    The demon snapped his fingers and brought the familiar image of a vast night sky filled to the brim with knotted branches glowing with boons into being. At the heart of the vision stood a young tree with four branches grafted onto it.


    It hasn¡¯t been two weeks yet, and so much has changed. Time to change some more.


    Ur-Namma had emphasized the importance of speed and, after hearing the elf¡¯s arguments, Oak agreed with him. Frankly, some type of boost to reflexes and speed of movement was a necessity for a Warlock like himself, if he was going to overcome tough opponents in the future.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Oak was no coward. Nevertheless, trying to fight a grafted, like Soot, for example, without enhanced reflexes was more of an elaborate suicide than an act of bravery. And Oak had no intention of dying to the first grafted follower of the Choirs who took exception to his existence.


    ¡°The elf recommended some form of enhanced reflexes and speed,¡± Oak said. ¡°His arguments won me over.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Ur-Namma has a wealth of experience to draw upon,¡± Ashmedai said. ¡°I would not discount his advice lightly when it comes to martial matters. Let¡¯s see what I can offer that would make sense in your situation.¡±


    The breathtaking vista of branches twisting over each other across the cosmos came alive, and one by one, different branches spun to the forefront before Ashmedai discarded them. The process was too fast for Oak to follow it. This continued for some time, until Ashmedai made a pleased sound, and the movement of the vision ceased. Three branches remained, floating in front of Oak.


    Ashmedai lifted three fingers and started going through the options. ¡°First, we have the safe and steady option. The Branch of Gaap is a branch focused on consistent enhancements to reflexes and speed in all situations. It''s not flashy, but it does not need to be, and it will get the job done.


    ¡°Our second branch is a bit more tricky. Just like the first option, the Branch of Kimaris offers an increase to your lethality in all situations, but the consistent increase in speed and the faster reaction time will not be as great. Instead, one boon higher up the branch will allow you to, for a brief time, massively increase your speed.¡±


    Oak was intrigued. ¡°Exactly how fast will I be in that brief window?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Fast enough to cut people to pieces before they can even blink,¡± Ashmedai responded with a nasty smile on his face.


    ¡°I like the sound of that,¡± Oak said. ¡°What¡¯s my third option?¡±


    ¡°Your third option is a curious one. Besides a minor increase in speed and faster reflexes, the Branch of Haagenti offers to vastly speed up your processes of cognition. In essence, you would have more time to consider your options in a fight.¡± Ashmedai clapped his hands together. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°You damn well know what I think,¡± Oak muttered. ¡°You offered to eventually make me fast enough to cut people apart before they even register what is happening. I ain¡¯t choosing any of the other branches after that spiel.¡±


    ¡°I figured you might go for the Branch of Kimaris.¡± Ashmedai chuckled. ¡°It will be expensive soul wise, but not too bad. Have you thought about your second choice? You have enough fuel for it.¡±


    Oak had indeed been thinking hard about what he should choose. He had been bouncing between the branches of Flauros and Buer, but Flauros had won out in the end. Increased healing or durability would be very useful, and he would invest in them, eventually. Right now, though, he wanted more options and greater offensive power.


    Since the Branch of Flauros was already grafted to him, he had been spending the few available moments of downtime by examining it.


    ¡°My flames are pitiful at the moment,¡± Oak said. ¡°Can you bring up the Branch of Flauros you already grafted to me?¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Ashmedai said, and waved his hand. The vision floating between them focused on the Branch of Flauros, and showcased the different forks branching out of the main branch. There were several boons to choose from, and Oak had considered them all carefully.


    There were boons that could make his flames hotter, increase his reach, or make the fires he lit spread faster, but those had felt like inferior options to him.


    Ashmedai¡¯s revelations had only made Oak¡¯s choice clearer. One could not stand against the might of the Choirs and slay a dragon relying on strength that was uninspired. Applications of simplistic force would not move the Heavens.


    Just by looking at the Branch of Fire, Oak could tell that every boon he chose would, in small ways, increase the efficiency of his casting anyway, and his soul would eventually get used to the strain. Spending precious resources on making casting easier could very well stunt his growth in the long run.


    Instead, his gaze fell on a certain interesting looking boon, forking off the main branch.


    ¡°I want that one,¡± Oak said, and pointed towards the first boon of Pyrokinetic Telekinesis. It would provide him with the basics of fire shaping, and telekinetic force projection through his flames.


    As he examined the line of boons dotting up that off-shoot from the main branch, Oak noticed something interesting. Before the fork he was following with his gaze connected back to the main Branch of Flauros, it intersected with the Branch of Zagan. Liquids and gases. Now, there is a synergy with some potential. Images of utter havoc filled his mind, as Oak considered what could be achieved with a combination of certain difficult to acquire substances, and an open flame.


    I will have to keep that in mind.


    Ashmedai cleared his throat, interrupting Oak¡¯s musings. ¡°It is a second tier spark, so grafting it will tie up most of the unattached souls you currently have,¡± he said. ¡°Are you sure about your choice?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± Oak replied. He could not wait to send some fool flying with a burst of flame.


    ¡°Marvelous!¡± Ashmedai said and snapped his fingers. The representation of Oak¡¯s powers vanished. ¡°As usual, I will keep you unconscious for the duration of the grafting process. Night, night, Warlock.¡±


    Oak didn¡¯t even have the time to thank the demon, before sleep claimed him.

 Chapter 47

    Feeling the filth Oak had accumulated during his stay in the City of God wash away felt absolutely divine. He stood naked under a stream of clear, pleasantly cool water dripping down from the foliage of the maple trees around him, and washed his hair.


    It was an utter mess.


    Cutting the hair off might have been easier than untangling it at this point, but he refused to give up. A man has to draw the line somewhere, and Oak would not give up his hair.


    Since they were in the grove, and clean water was available in significant quantities, he had washed Geezer as well. The hellhound had not been happy with him. Geezer was now sulking somewhere out of sight, like he always did after he got himself so dirty that Oak had to wrestle him to a bath.


    Back home, he usually carried the dog into the river, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers. The stream of water had worked well enough.


    Oak did not step out from under the stream until the water pooling at his feet was as clear as the water flowing from the leafs above. Towels and washcloths were in short supply, so he had nothing to dry himself with, but he cared not.


    They would have to wait for their clothes to dry anyway, before they could leave the grove.


    Status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Infernal engine


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Souls: 73</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Fuel: 1</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branches


    </td>


    <td>


    Boons


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td rowspan="2">


    Branch of Flauros


    </td>


    <td>


    Pyromancy: grants an intuitive understanding of fire and the basic ability to summon it.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Pyrokinetic Telekinesis I: grants the basic ability to shape fire, and project telekinetic force through flames.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Amdusias


    </td>


    <td>


    Ears of Amdusias: grants sharp hearing and the basic ability to see one''s environment through sound.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Buer


    </td>


    <td>


    Demonic constitution: grants slightly faster healing from injury, lessens fatigue, and increases the rate of recovery from physical activity.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Ipos


    </td>


    <td>


    Darkvision: grants the ability to see even in complete darkness.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Branch of Kimaris


    </td>


    <td>


    Devilish sensorium: grants a slight increase in speed and enhanced reflexes.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Theurgy


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2">


    Current status:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ghosts: 17</li>


    </ul>


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Wards


    </td>


    <td>


    Ghosts attached: 2


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Wraiths


    </td>


    <td>


    The Librarian


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Trauma weapons


    </td>


    <td>


    Kaarina¡¯s Horror


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Thought-plagues


    </td>


    <td>


    Kushim¡¯s Bewilderment


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Scouts


    </td>


    <td>


    Raven


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Miscellaneous ghosts


    </td>


    <td>


    Sparrow


    Cat


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Oak¡¯s infernal engine was a hungry machine. The new powers Ashmedai had granted to him had drained almost every bit of fuel he had scrounged up in the Imperial Library.


    No matter. Creation is filled with souls for me to reap.


    A comparatively dry patch of moss and grass next to the thick trunk of a gigantic maple tree looked inviting, so Oak settled down on this natural mattress and closed his eyes. Surely a little more rest would not hurt?


    A good soldier sleeps whenever possible.


    The gentle glow of the eternal summer sun caressing Oak¡¯s face made spots of light dance on the insides of his closed eyelids. It was pleasantly warm. He was barely awake when Geezer laid down next to him. The hellhound inched his way right against Oak¡¯s side and laid his head on his chest.


    In a matter of moments, they were both asleep, and the only sound breaking the tranquil silence of the grove was Geezer¡¯s faint huffing.


    ***


    In Oak¡¯s experience, it was always best to deliver bad news right away, and he figured a secret angel plot to let all sentient life on the continent be destroyed qualified.


    When the three of them broke their fast, he told Ur-Namma everything Ashmedai had revealed during their conversation. The elf was irritatingly unfazed as Oak told him that most of the Choirs might actively hinder their efforts to kill Yam-Nahar, since they wanted to use the dragon as an opportunity to burn Pairi-Daeza to the ground and start over.


    Ur-Namma listened to Oak¡¯s tale without interruption. After Oak was finished, he requested they table the topic for now, and return to it at a later date. The elf wanted to properly think about the implications of the angels'' plans before giving his thoughts on the matter, and Oak saw no reason to press the issue.


    He did not have all of his thoughts in order, either.


    ¡°So, Ur-Namma,¡± Oak said and washed down a bite of hardtack. ¡°Since we are changing the subject, I think it is time to talk about how we are going to get out of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. You said you could find a way.¡±


    Ur-Namma swallowed a swig of water and nodded. ¡°I did say so. Never fear, I do not boast of my abilities lightly. Finding a way out is well within my abilities,¡± he said. ¡°It should not be too difficult unless we run into unexpected problems.¡±


    ¡°How are you going to get us out of here?¡± Oak asked, furrowing his brows. ¡°Escaping from inside a sphere of twisted space seems like a hard task to me.¡±


    Ur-Namma stretched towards Oak¡¯s rucksack and snatched himself another piece of corned beef. ¡°If I was anyone else but myself, you would be correct. Yam-Nahar¡¯s forces must have ways to leave the sphere, but those routes are certainly well guarded and out of our reach,¡± Ur-Namma replied, and settled into a comfortable position, leaning against the trunk of a maple tree. ¡°That will not matter. I was born before Mother had finished singing Creation into being. I was there to see the first sunrise crest over the eastern horizon.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°You must understand, Mother tended to her Garden from afar. Creation was never meant to withstand her presence,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°That is why even small pieces of her corpse warp reality into shapes it should not take. I can feel the breaking of the natural order in the very marrow of my bones.¡±


    ¡°I get it. You are as old as dirt,¡± Oak said. ¡°How does that help us?¡±


    Ur-Namma wagged his long pointer finger in Oak¡¯s direction. ¡°Such impatience. I¡¯m getting to the point, northerner,¡± he said. ¡°Divine flesh has twisted space around itself, but Creation yearns to return to its intended state. Folds of space come into being all the time around the city, and I can sense where they are. We can pass through one of them to get outside of the sphere.¡±


    Oak was elated, though he had his doubts. He could not wait to walk under the open sky again. ¡°What do these folds in space look like?¡± he asked.


    ¡°To your eyes? Nothing at all,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°You will have to trust my senses. The hard part will be finding a fold that will take us close to the ground on the other side. It wouldn''t do, to go through all of this trouble only to end up halfway up the side of the sphere, and plummet to our deaths during the final stretch of our escape.¡±


    A shiver traveled down Oak¡¯s spine. ¡°We definitely want to avoid that,¡± he said. ¡°During my time here, I have come to the conclusion that I despise heights.¡±


    Ur-Namma graced him with a smile that showed way too many needle-sharp teeth. ¡°Temper your fear, young Warlock,¡± he said. ¡°Everything thus far has been a small hill compared to the mountains we will have to climb, if we wish to succeed.¡±


    ¡°Temper your metaphors, skeleton,¡± Oak muttered. ¡°My fear is my own, and none can part me from it.¡±


    ¡°You know, before the Doom, I could have put you to death for such insolence.¡± Ur-Namma sighed wistfully. ¡°Those were better days.¡±


    Oak stared at the elf. He didn¡¯t know how the bastard managed it, but Ur-Namma was so affable that it was easy to forget who he really was, before he inevitably blurted out something that made Oak grind his teeth together.


    ¡°Sometimes you say things that make me doubt the wisdom of ever letting you out of that stone,¡± Oak said. ¡°You really need to control yourself when we get out of here.¡±


    ¡°You have nothing to worry about, my friend,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Control is my middle name.¡±


    Suspicion filled Oak¡¯s mind. ¡°Do you even have a middle name?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    ¡°Are you lying poorly on purpose just to annoy me?¡±


    The elf winked at him.


    ***


    The cobblestones of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah felt familiar under Oak¡¯s boots. That was a scary thought in and of itself.


    The three of them had finished breaking their fast with no real hurry, before setting out from the safety of the grove. A place where you did not have to sleep one eye open was a rare thing in the City of God, and they all had enjoyed the relative comfort of not needing to be on their guard at all times.


    For the first time, Ur-Namma was at the head of their little formation. The elf was leading Oak and Geezer towards a fold in space that felt ¡®suitable¡¯ for their purposes. When Oak had asked what that meant, the old general had just grumbled and kept walking.


    Saying the elf can be ornery sometimes is such an understatement, Oak thought. He followed Ur-Namma anyway, since the chances of him finding a way out of the city by himself were practically zero.


    The street they were walking on was lined with little villas and manors, perfect for the merchant class that did not have the wealth of nobles, but liked to pretend they lived in palaces. Land must have been expensive here in the city¡¯s heyday, and yet every manor had a yard full of dead trees surrounding it.


    This had been the type of place where every household had at least a couple of servants. And a gardener.


    Looking at the neighborhood as a whole gave Oak the impression that every family on the street had been in a competition to see who was the biggest numbskull of them all. The metrics were the height of your fence and the width of your porch. Extra points had surely been awarded if the family children thought the nanny was their mother for the first four or five years of their lives.


    It was revolting. Not an honest cabin in sight.


    Geezer peed on a gaudy wrought-iron gate with spikes at the top to keep unwanted guests on the outside. Oak grinned. He hoped the ugly monstrosity rusted. There was something insecure about putting up a fence with spikes to guard you from your fellow man that rubbed him the wrong way.


    Building such a thing shouted out loud and clear that you thought you needed it. Or, even worse, wished you were important enough to concern yourself with such fears.


    Oak would have liked to travel backwards in time to question the owners of these fences. Is this not your homeland? Are these not your people? What cowardice lingers in your heart? In the Northlands, a man trusted in his own strength to safeguard his home. Building a wall around your house to keep your neighbors at bay would have been the height of weakness, and useless to boot.


    Static defenses only ever delayed the enemy. If someone wanted to raid his home and Oak was not present to put a stop to it, what good was a fence? If he was home, the fence served no purpose because killing folk was the better option.


    Death could not be circumvented with a ladder.


    Ur-Namma stopped mid stride. He lifted a lean arm and pointed up and into the distance, slightly to the right. ¡°Can you see that church up the side of the sphere?¡± the elf asked in a quiet voice. ¡°It¡¯s a fair bit above the fog covering the streets.¡±


    Oak squinted in the direction the elf was pointing. ¡°Just about, I think. What of it?¡± he asked.


    ¡°There is a fold in space hanging past the point of the church¡¯s bell tower,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Luckily, our destination is not so far as to be in the outer edges of the city, but if the first fold we try is not suitable, that church will be our second option.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Oak whispered. ¡°You are going to make me climb up the side of the sphere again?¡±


    Ur-Namma waved away Oak¡¯s concerns. ¡°Hold your horses, my friend. There is no reason to think the fold I¡¯m leading us towards won¡¯t be perfect for our needs,¡± the elf said. ¡°But it is good to have a back-up plan, in case fate intervenes.¡±


    ¡°You mean if things go to shit?¡± Oak asked. In his experience, that was a given.


    ¡°You could produce tears from a stone with your words alone, Oak,¡± Ur-Namma said and started walking again. ¡°It lifts my spirits to know that the new generations have such a fine command of language.¡±


    Oak snorted. ¡°I was thinking you are an ornery bastard earlier, but now you are getting bad enough that I feel like voicing the thought is justified,¡± he said.


    ¡°The search for justification is the realm of lesser creatures,¡± Ur-Namma replied without missing a beat. ¡°Bend Creation to your liking and make your own meaning, or die in the attempt. That is the only creed I recognize.¡±


    Oak scratched his unkempt beard and stared at the elf. ¡°Has anyone ever told you that you are an uncompromising fellow?¡± he asked.


    The only answer he received was the faint sound of Ur-Namma¡¯s fading footsteps, before the elf turned a corner and vanished from view.


    ¡°Mark my words Geezer, that old codger is going to insult someone, and get us all killed when we get out of here,¡± Oak said.


    Geezer ignored Oak¡¯s musings and jogged after Ur-Namma. Oak picked up the pace and followed along. It wouldn¡¯t do to be left behind.


    ***


    The monument at the center of the square was massive. It was a gigantic cube of red granite covered in bronze plaques. Oak had asked Ur-Namma about them, and apparently each plaque contained the name of a soldier who had fallen in the Empire¡¯s wars. It was a sobering sight. Based on the number of plaques, wars had not been in short supply.


    How in the hells did they transport that gigantic block of stone into the city? If these buildings and streets were not built around that thing, the amount of effort involved boggles the mind.


    The elf was leading Oak and Geezer around the square, and they were currently walking under a tall bridge. Walking straight through the middle would have left them exposed from all directions, so here they were, walking among piles of trash and the support columns holding the bridge in the air above their heads.


    The possibility of having to climb up the side of the sphere for the second time refused to leave Oak alone. It haunted his mind, always surfacing just when he managed to distract himself, and forget what might lay ahead.


    If I need to clamber up that cliff face of a slope again, I¡¯m going to lose it. The memory of almost falling to his death and hanging from a lamppost over the city brought the taste of bile with it. By the Chariot.


    Anything else would do. He opened his mouth to argue for another back-up plan, when Ur-Namma slapped a hand over his lips.


    Oak was about to protest when he heard it. Heavy footsteps, getting closer to their position. He followed Ur-Namma¡¯s lead and pressed himself against a nearby bridge column. The closer the steps came, the heavier they felt, until the very earth shook with every ponderous stomp of enormous feet against the streets.


    There was a brief moment of silence, and then a thunderous crash.


    Two absolutely massive, trouser clad legs descended into view over the side of the bridge, and a piece of railing preceded them, clattering down to the square. Despite the spectacle, Oak¡¯s senses were able to focus on a frightening detail. The being sitting above them was so large that every breath they took resulted in a low rumble. He could feel the resonance traveling through his own chest.


    Oak swallowed, and gave Ur-Namma a questioning look.


    ¡°A giant,¡± Ur-Namma mouthed silently.


    An actual giant. Fantastic. Just what this day needed.

 Chapter 48

    Oak, Geezer, and Ur-Namma waited in the shadows under the bridge, with an oblivious giant sitting on top of them. Oak pressed himself against the support column he was hiding behind and prayed silently. If the giant got wind of their presence, this little adventure would come to an end very quickly. And very violently.


    The giants had a reputation, and they had spent millennia earning every bit of it.


    The river of time flowed onwards, and the giant sat there on top of the bridge, like he had nowhere else to be. He was utterly still, like a statue carved out of rock. Oak found it disconcerting for something so large to have such fine control over their own movements. It felt unnatural, like a boat without a crew sailing upstream.


    When the giant finally made an infinitesimal movement and let out a noise of displeasure, Oak almost pissed himself. I feel very fortunate that I am not the person drawing a giant¡¯s ire. By the look of those legs the giant might not even notice if he accidentally stepped on top of Oak, and reduced him to a smear on the ground.


    Movement close to the monument at the center of the square caught his eye. A pair of elves had just walked into view, with a third elf between them, and they began to make their way across the square. The elf in the middle was shuffling, like his ankles were shackled together.


    Oak glanced at Ur-Namma. The elf¡¯s face was cold and lifeless, like a porcelain mask.


    ¡°Dumuzi and Gestianna,¡± Ur-Namma mouthed silently. Two of his jailors were flanking the prisoner.


    As the trio got closer, Oak got a better look at all of them. The male elf in the middle did indeed have shackles on his ankles. The metal restraints were connected to each other with a short chain, and his wrists were also shackled together. There was a haggard look to him. The dark green doublet and the black trousers he was wearing had seen better days, and his long dark hair was in disarray.


    A sense of resigned terror was written all over the prisoner''s handsome face. Every step towards the giant seemed to inflame the dread in his eyes, but he kept his head up and his posture straight anyway, clearly unwilling to fully give in to his fear.


    The two elves flanking the prisoner had silver hair and bright blue eyes. The brother and sister looked alike, and both wore similar outfits; gray cloaks over mail armor. Gestianna had a two-handed battle-axe on her back, while Dumuzi wielded a staff. To Oak¡¯s eyes, it looked like some type of casting focus.


    He is probably a spellsinger of some sort.


    A streak of smoke traveled over the buildings circling the square and landed on the cobblestones in front of the giant. The smoke transformed into a fearsome elf clad in black plate. There was a shield fixed on his back, and he was wearing a helm with wings on its sides. Golden locks of hair spilled down from the back of it.


    This one looked like a warrior king of old, and he seemed to favor a long, thin longsword like the one Oak had given to Ur-Namma.


    If that is not the third jailor, I will eat my boots.


    The elf in full-plate waited until the pair escorting the prisoner stopped behind him and bowed low. ¡°Lord Kurigalzu, we have finished the task given to us and captured the deserter.¡±


    An oppressive silence descended on the square. No one moved a muscle. Oak was not subject to the giant''s stare, and he was still sweating under the bridge like a little piglet.


    Finally, the giant spoke. His voice rolled across the square like an avalanche and echoed all around them. Oak was glad he could adjust the sensitivity of his enhanced hearing.


    ¡°SHOULD I APPLAUD YOUR EFFORTS, NAMTAR?¡± Kurigalzu asked. ¡°REMIND ME. HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO CAPTURE THIS WEAKLING?¡±


    The elf in the black plate ground his teeth together. ¡°Three weeks, my lord.¡±


    A rumbling breath from above shook a cloud of dust free from the bottom of the bridge. It floated down and landed in Oak¡¯s hair.


    ¡°DO YOU THINK I AM PLEASED?¡± Kurigalzu asked. ¡°DO YOU IMAGINE ME OVERJOYED WITH THE QUALITY OF YOUR SERVICE?¡±


    ¡°Enmesarra proved more cunning and resourceful than he appears at first glance, my lord.¡± Namtar stammered. ¡°His desertion took us all by surprise, which gave him a head start.¡±


    ¡°MAYBE. MAYBE NOT,¡± Kurigazu said. ¡°WEAKLING. WHY DID YOU RUN AWAY?¡±


    Enmesarra visibly gathered his courage and looked right where Oak imagined Kurgalzu¡¯s eyes were. ¡°I answer to you no longer.¡± He spat on the ground.


    Kurigalzu laughed. It was a cruel sound filled with wicked glee. ¡°IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN.¡±


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    A gigantic hand connected to an even more gigantic forearm descended from above and snatched Enmesarra into the air. Only the elf¡¯s head remained visible, sticking out of the giant''s fist. Enmesarra gulped for air, utterly consumed by panic.


    Kurigalzu clenched his fist. Blood fountained out of Enmesarra¡¯s open, screaming mouth as fingers the width of trees broke his body. Horrific gurgles filled the square as the giant squeezed the elf into paste, and dropped his broken form onto the cobblestones.


    To his horror, Oak could see the elf¡¯s eyes twitch. The wretch was still alive. Kurigalzu snapped his bloody fingers, and suddenly Enmesarra stood there, whole and hearty, once more. The elf was white as a sheet, and promptly threw up, before collapsing right into his own vomit.


    Oak could not believe what he was seeing. Kurigalzu is going to be a problem. One more added to the pile. Casting a spell of such power without even an incantation was a feat worthy of legend.


    ¡°DO YOU PERHAPS LACK SUFFICIENT MOTIVATION, NAMTAR?¡± Kurigalzu asked, switching targets.


    Namtar was quick to deny the accusation. ¡°No, lord Kurigalzu. Enmesarra can be crafty when he wants to be,¡± he said. ¡°We did all we could, I swear.¡± He held the pommel of his sword in a white knuckled grip.


    The prisoner tried to say something, and Kurigalzu lifted his right foot. Slowly, he stepped on Enmesarra¡¯s legs. The prisoner¡¯s screams filled the square once more. Oak felt cold all over. It was the utterly indifferent nature of Kurigalzu¡¯s violence that shook him. The giant was not angry. There was no wrath in his voice as he tortured Enmesarra. He was like a curious child pulling an insect apart and watching it writhe and struggle.


    Kurigalzu lifted his leg and made Enmesarra whole again. It seemed like he was not done questioning the deserter.


    ¡°I WILL ASK ONE MORE TIME, WEAKLING,¡± Kurigalzu said. ¡°WHY DID YOU FLEE?¡±


    Enmesarra scrambled to his knees. Tears and snot dripped down his handsome face, and the elf let out a noise, which could have been either a sob or a laugh. ¡°Every coward has their breaking point. I guess I reached mine,¡± he said. ¡°Yam-Nahar will wake in a year or two and continue his profane feast. I want no part of it.


    ¡°No matter what lies ahead, I will not raise my blade again in the dragon¡¯s name.¡± Despite his circumstances, there was an intense joy on Enmesarra¡¯s face as the words left his mouth, like he could not quite believe he had uttered them. ¡°This is not the dream he promised us.¡±


    The twins had disgusted looks on their faces, though Oak could not tell exactly what they were disgusted by. Enmesarra¡¯s desertion? The reason behind it? Or something else entirely? Sadly, it wasn¡¯t likely he would find out the answer anytime soon, since he could not exactly walk into the square and ask the elves themselves about it.


    Namtar just looked resigned. Like he knew something was coming, and he would not enjoy it.


    ¡°HOW PATHETIC. TO LOSE FAITH NOW, AT THE FINAL STRETCHES OF THE GREAT WORK, IS A SIN I CANNOT ABIDE,¡± Kurigalzu said. ¡°YAM-NAHAR WAS WISE TO SEEK MY COUNSEL. HE KNEW SOME OF YOU WOULD WAVER DESPITE YOUR OATHS.¡±


    Enmesarra wiped his tears to his sleeve and chuckled. ¡°What does it matter?¡± he asked. ¡°I am an oath-breaker twice over.¡±


    ¡°INDEED, WEAKLING. INDEED,¡± Kurigalzu replied. ¡°GESTIANNA, UNSHACKLE THE DISAPPOINTMENT.¡±


    Quickly, Gestianna produced a key and removed the restraints. Just as quickly, she stepped back and took her place next to Dumuzi. Enmesarra rose to a standing position. His own sick covered the chest of his doublet. The elf looked both ridiculous and majestic at the same time.


    ¡°What will become of me?¡± Enmesarra asked.


    ¡°AN APPETIZER,¡± Kurigalzu said, and grabbed Enmesarra once more.


    The elf¡¯s eyes widened in terror as Kurigalzu lifted him up. Shouting in fright, the elf vanished from view. Oak closed his eyes and hugged Geezer. It did not take a genius to figure out what was going to happen next.


    Horrific crunching sounds emanated from the bridge as Kurigalzu ate Enmesarra alive. Judging by the fact that the shrieking did not immediately stop, Kurigalzu had started with the feet.


    While the giant chewed, Enmesarra screamed himself hoarse.


    Oak had never heard such a sound, and he wished to never hear it again. It reminded him a little of a time in his youth, when he had helped a neighbor butcher a hog. The master of the house had messed up the cut, and only injured the pig instead of cutting its throat.


    The way the animal had squealed had stayed in Oak¡¯s dreams for years.


    After an eternity, the screams ended, and Oak opened his eyes. He dared a glance around the column he and Geezer were hiding behind. The jailor¡¯s gazes were transfixed up towards the giant''s face. Towards Kurigalzu¡¯s mouth, if Oak could hazard a guess.


    All three of Ur-Namma¡¯s jailors looked pale, and Namtar was the palest of them all. His expression was locked in a grimace, and the hand which had been holding the pommel of his sword like a vice was now shaking slightly.


    The sound of Kurigalzu smacking his lips almost made Oak stumble in fright. By the Chariot, he cursed inside his own mind. He was grateful for the darkness and the piles of trash under the bridge that shielded most of him from view. Discovery would have been fatal.


    Oak had no desire to become an appetizer like Enmesarra.


    ¡°I HAVE EATEN WORSE TASTING ELVES. TAKE HEART NAMTAR. IF YOU FAIL ME AGAIN, THERE ARE OTHER USES YOU COULD BE WELL SUITED FOR,¡± Kurigalzu said. ¡°SEEK ME OUT IN TWO DAYS. I HAVE WORK FOR YOU IN THE SOUTH.¡±


    Namtar, Gestianna, and Dumuzi bowed to the giant. Considering Kurigalzu had just eaten an elf alive, Oak figured not bowing might have proved deadly. He much preferred Ashmedai¡¯s style of leadership to whatever this was supposed to be.


    Without another word, Kurigalzu stood up on the bridge, and walked back the way he came, towards the center of the city. His thundering steps heralded his going as they slowly but surely faded to the edge of hearing, and the elves left as well.


    Ur-Namma¡¯s jailors walked away together, in the grips of a muted conversation. It was apparent there was trouble in paradise.


    Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma waited under the bridge long after their enemies had vacated the square. Oak kept glancing at Ur-Namma. He could not wait to hear what the elf had to say about what they had just witnessed.

 Chapter 49

    The view was breathtaking. In all of its tragic emptiness and slow decay, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah was still a beautiful city to behold. Not that Oak had anything even remotely similar to compare it to.


    There were no such cities in the North, and never had been.


    They had stopped to take a short break and talk about what had transpired in the square. Oak had argued that they really should get off the street, and Ur-Namma had suggested a nearby balcony. A broken door and a set of stairs later, they found themselves looking across the roofs of the City of God, straight towards the great ziggurat at the heart of Yam-Nahar¡¯s domain.


    Oak leaned on the railing and took in the sight. Most likely somewhere in that ziggurat, or under it, slumbered the calamity of the age. Yam-Nahar. The Dragon Who Feasts on the Flesh of God. The Great Wyrm was bad enough on his own, but he had gathered formidable allies to his cause.


    A Swarm-Priest of Abaddon. A giant. What horrors are you still hiding, Yam-Nahar?


    ¡°Kurigalzu,¡± Oak said, and looked to Ur-Namma. ¡°What do you know of him?¡±


    ¡°Sadly, very little,¡± Ur-Namma replied. The elf leaned against the railing next to Oak with a pensive look on his face. ¡°Kurigalzu never visited the Empire during my sister¡¯s reign, and I have never met him. I know only hearsay and rumors.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take hearsay and rumors over complete ignorance,¡± Oak said. ¡°Spill it.¡±


    ¡°As you wish. The giant hails from the Bone Deserts of the west, and from what I have heard, he is a great warrior,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°The rumors differ on what Choir or demon his family worshiped originally in the place of his birth, but they agree he converted to the cult of the demon Molek on his journeys to the western reaches of the continent. What happened there centuries ago, I do not know.¡±


    Oak considered what he had just heard. There was not much to go on. It¡¯s not like they did not already know the giant was very dangerous. The only interesting tidbit was Kurigalzu¡¯s connection to Molek.


    ¡°No mention of him being an archmage capable of miraculous feats of healing?¡±


    Ur-Namma shook his head. ¡°None. Many tales of him consuming his enemies, though.¡±


    ¡°Figures.¡± Oak sighed. ¡°Would have been nice if you knew his secret weakness.¡±


    Ur-Namma¡¯s smiled wide, showing all of his needle-like teeth. ¡°No secret weaknesses to offer here. On the contrary, I have only bad news to share,¡± the elf said. ¡°I suspect Kurigalzu is a Chosen of the Demon of sacrifice and cannibalism. A Warlock of Molek.¡±


    ¡°Right. Absolutely fucking fantastic,¡± Oak replied, and scratched his beard in agitation. ¡°What brings you to that marvelous conclusion? The healing magic?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Even an archmage would struggle to accomplish such a feat.¡±


    ¡°Fuck. That¡¯s bad, right?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Like, totally terrible for our continued existence?¡±


    ¡°Very much so,¡± Ur-Namma said with a ravenous look on his face. ¡°A worthy enemy. I want to make that giant watch as I eat his heart.¡±


    Ur-Namma¡¯s bloodthirstiness felt comforting. The elf was not discouraged in the least, which lifted Oak¡¯s spirits a little. If the ancient general was willing to spit in the eyes of fate and take the long odds, so was he.


    The weight of their responsibility rested heavily on Oak¡¯s shoulders, but having another person to share his worries with helped.


    Still, Oak wanted to poke the elf¡¯s certainty a little. ¡°What about the Choirs?¡± he asked. ¡°You wanted some time to think about their plans of cleansing all sentient life from the face of the continent. Have you collected your thoughts?¡±


    Ur-Namma straightened his frame. ¡°I have. You seemed surprised by my muted reaction to the news of the Choir¡¯s treachery,¡± he said. ¡°By all rights, I should have been horrified. But I found myself relieved instead.¡±


    The elf turned fully towards Oak and looked into his eyes. ¡°This is not just about revenge anymore,¡± Ur-Namma said, his voice laced with iron. ¡°The stakes are so high now that all means are on the table. I had feared, no, detested the very thought that I could not do what needed to be done to kill the dragon. That concern has vanished from my heart.¡±


    That was fitting. The old monster had been afraid he might have developed a conscience. Oak could sympathize. It was like a trick of the light. A moral mirage. A man could grit his teeth and commit horrific acts in the name of vengeance. But in the name of the greater good? Men built castles out of cadavers and smiled while they did it.


    ¡°Our circumstances are precarious indeed. We stand upon the edge of a knife. My favorite place to be,¡± Ur-Namma said, and there was a wild look in his gray eyes that Oak had never seen there before. The usually measured and calm gaze of the ancient elf was almost feral.


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    ¡°My tribe is dead, Northerner. My lands are lost, and my empire is dust. The enemy is insurmountable, and the consequences of failure are unthinkable. I feel alive. For the first time in centuries, I believe. A greater purpose lies before me, just waiting for me to reach my hand and grasp it.¡±


    Oak could feel the conviction behind Ur-Namma¡¯s declaration, and it stirred the complicated feelings welling inside his own heart. On the one hand, the fear and weight of the task given to him. On the other, a glorious sense of meaning.


    ¡°I know what you speak of,¡± Oak said. ¡°I feel the gaze of my forefathers upon me. They watch from the Hells, all of them better men than me. But I don¡¯t think this one will be won by the righteous. There is a reason Ashmedai chose us. We are going to murder, lie, and cheat our way to victory.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Ur-Namma growled. ¡°Yes, we will.¡±


    Something moved in the corner of Oak¡¯s vision, and he turned his gaze towards the center of the city. He froze. A long and sinuous tail had emerged into view, and it circled itself around the ziggurat at the heart of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. The scales of the tail were black, with some splatters of silver among them, and they shone like jewels in the gloom of the City of God.


    The sheer scale of the beast boggled the mind. Never in his life had Oak felt so small and insignificant. He was a speck of dust on the face of Creation.


    ¡°Is that¡­?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Is¡­is that what I think it is?¡±


    ¡°It is as Enmesarra said, before Kurigalzu ate him,¡± Ur-Namma replied. All emotion had fled from the elf¡¯s face. ¡°The dragon moves in his sleep. A year, a couple at most. It will not be long before Yam-Nahar wakes and continues his profane feast.¡±


    Everyone had a death waiting for them at the end of the line. Fighting the Age of Myth come again would not be a stupid way to go.


    Fuck me.


    Oak locked eyes with Ur-Namma, and extended his hand. ¡°No half measures.¡±


    Ur-Namma glanced at the tail circling around the ziggurat, before looking back at Oak. ¡°No half measures,¡± the elf said, and grasped Oak¡¯s hand with his own.


    ***


    A half eaten corpse of a giant spider lay on top of an overturned wagon in the middle of the foggy street. Ur-Namma led the way around the wagon, and Oak followed with Geezer in tow.


    Instead of walking in the elf¡¯s footsteps, Oak hugged the rightmost edge of the street, trying to keep himself as far away from the disgusting smell emanating from the rotting monster as was humanly possible.


    Geezer, on the other hand, would have liked nothing more than a chance to inspect the carcass more closely. Oak did not let him. There was no convenient river nearby, and he would need to throw Geezer into one if the hellhound got within touching distance of the corpse.


    The area they were walking through was rundown and dirty. Trash filled the back-alleys, and Oak could see clear signs of monster activity, beyond the massive spider corpse they had just passed. A blind man would have noticed that one, based on smell alone.


    Some windows had been broken through and he could spot claw marks on walls and doorways. Fairly clear signs that this was not a good place to be. More than ever, Oak was glad he had chosen the Ears of Amdusias as one of his first boons. At least he would have a chance to notice if something was stalking them through the district.


    While he strained his hearing in search of anything creeping in the darkness, Oak¡¯s thoughts turned back to Kurigalzu. Was the giant truly a Warlock, just like he was? And if he is, what type of Warlock is he? Are all Warlocks and Chosen alike, Oak pondered. Or is every single one different in some way?


    The need to know got the better of Oak. ¡°Hey, Ur-Namma,¡± he whispered. ¡°Are all Warlocks alike? I mean, do we all grow our powers the same way?¡±


    ¡°Thinking about Kurigalzu, are you?¡± Ur-Namma chuckled. ¡°To answer your question, no and yes. Every Warlock has different strengths and weaknesses based on the boons they have received, but most of the demons tend to prefer the ¡®infernal engine fueled by souls¡¯ approach to empowering their Chosen.¡±


    Oak bit his lip. ¡°Is there a reason for that?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh, tell me already, you fuck,¡± Oak whispered. He only saw the elf¡¯s back, but he knew the bastard was smiling that smug smile of his.


    ¡°Such an impatient savage,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°Very well. I will satisfy your curiosity. Demons like to fuel the boons of their Warlocks with the souls of the slain, because it does not require as much power investment on the demon''s part. Even the well of Ashmedai could run dry if he overextended himself.¡±


    ¡°All right. Makes sense to me,¡± Oak said.  ¡°What about the angels and their Chosen? I have never heard it mentioned that they collect the souls of their kills.¡±


    They reached an intersection, and Ur-Namma stopped for a moment to make sure nothing was moving on the road they would need to cross. Oak approved. There was no need to get careless this close to the finish line.


    ¡°Angels do things differently, for good reason. A Choir can easily afford to invest a larger portion of a single angel¡¯s power into a Chosen, and the angels have a very negative view of interfering with the departure of souls from Creation,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°Because of all of this, it is understandable that¡ª¡±


    Ur-Namma fell silent.


    It started as a sort of pressure, building upon itself on the street. Oak¡¯s ears popped, and he could feel ripples traveling through the Waking Dream. Static electricity made his hair and Geezer¡¯s fur stand on end. The mist and the fog up the street across the intersection were pushed aside, squeezed against the walls of the buildings on either side. The ripples of the Unreal Sea became waves.


    ¡°What is this,¡± Ur-Namma hissed. The elf took a step back, head on a swivel, trying to locate the source of the phenomenon.


    Oak¡¯s mouth was dry like a desert in the midday sun. Something massive swam through the Dream towards them, and he had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what it was.


    ¡°A leviathan,¡± Oak said. ¡°It''s a leviathan.¡±

 Chapter 50

    A leviathan.


    Oak¡¯s mind was frozen in horror, but luckily his body acted without conscious thought. He grabbed Ur-Namma by the hand and called for Geezer to follow. Legs pumping against the cobbles in a frenzied beat, Oak turned right at the intersection and ran for his life. Escape was their only chance to survive.


    Distance. We need distance, Oak thought, as he rushed away from the street the leviathan was barreling down in the Waking Dream. Ur-Namma shouted something, but he paid it no heed. They could converse later if they were both still alive. Alive and capable of conversing, that is. You could live for sometime, even with a purged mind after all.


    Distance, or something, just as good. Cover.


    A gap between buildings on the left side of the street shone in Oak¡¯s vision like a lighthouse, calling a ship in a stormy sea towards a safe harbor. As the churning of the Dream rose towards a crescendo, he threw himself and Ur-Namma into the small alleyway.


    Oak felt every single sharp complaint issued by his poor ribs as he smashed down on the pavement and rolled on the uneven cobblestones. Geezer flashed past Oak on the edge of his vision and landed ahead of him and Ur-Namma inside the alley in a dead sprint. Good boy, he thought, before all the higher functions of his mind were flushed away, and the only thing he could do was to hold on to his sanity.


    The leviathan passed them by.


    It swam across the intersection, and continued its ponderous journey in the Waking Dream, down the street Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma had fled from. It was unhurried and unassailable. More a force of nature than a beast.


    In the shallows of the Waking Dream, a thing like it had no equal.


    No part of the horror touched Oak¡¯s wards. No tentacle or feeler brushed him by accident, and even so, the only shield between him and the end of his consciousness trembled under the strain of the leviathans passing.


    Time did not exist.


    In that moment, only the pressure squeezing down upon his wards, and the tidal waves of memory washing over him, were real. He could not tell whether it took a heartbeat or a lifetime, but finally, it ended. The Unreal Sea calmed. The waves stilled, and unbelievably, serenity followed.


    Oak shook his head and tried to clear his own thoughts. Like a tiny rowboat at the mercy of a furious ocean. That''s what the experience had felt like. The leviathan had been massive. In another league entirely than the one Oak had run into after he had killed Gluk in the fighting pit, and destroyed the poltergeist.


    It was a curious thing to be happy about anything related to encountering a leviathan, but he was very glad his first encounter had been with a smaller variant.


    A labored breath passed through Oak¡¯s lungs. Another, and another. He no longer felt like he was teetering on the edge of the abyss, looking down on the perdition of his mind. It was such a visceral relief he gasped out loud, and his eyes welled with tears.


    Still breathing. Still a master of my own thoughts.


    ¡°Everybody still alive and well?¡± Oak asked in a raspy voice.


    Geezer had slumped to the ground when the leviathan had swum past, and now the dog was struggling back to his feet. It did not look easy, but he managed it. The hellhound swayed a little before he vomited out his dinner. Geezer retched until only bile dripped from his mouth onto the cobblestones.


    By Oak¡¯s estimation, that counted as alive, but not well. All things considered, a fine outcome. Distractedly, he noticed a curious arrangement of skeletons leaning against the wall of the alley, right behind Geezer. A rat, in the fangs of a cat, which in turn was in the jaws of a skeleton belonging to some type of canine monster.


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    There is always a bigger fish in the sea.


    Ur-Namma was already back up on two legs. The elf was leaning against the wall of a wooden apartment building and though his face was pale, and he had a nasty looking purple bruise on his right cheek, he seemed otherwise alright.


    ¡°A most unpleasant turn of events,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°I am as well as one could be after such a close encounter with a Takla-ha-ma. We are lucky to be alive. The creature which just passed us by hunts in the deep waters of the Unreal Sea.¡±


    ¡°That sure was something,¡± Oak replied. ¡°I imagine this is what it would feel like if someone beat my mind with a shovel.¡±


    Ur-Namma gave Oak a lopsided grin and gestured toward his face. ¡°You look like it. Your nose is bleeding like a stuck pig.¡±


    ¡°Aw shit.¡± Oak groaned and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He stared at the large bloodstain in dismay, before he remembered what these clothes had been through in his time in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. There was no saving this jacket, anyway. It was ripped to shreds, and it smelled of centipede guts. He would burn it at the earliest opportunity and get some new clothes to wear.


    Something to look forward to.


    Geezer looked absolutely miserable. ¡°Come here, boy,¡± Oak hollered, and beckoned the hellhound over. Geezer sat down next to him and pressed himself against Oak¡¯s side. He hugged the dog tight. Miraculously, they were both still alive.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯ll feel better in no time at all,¡± Oak whispered to Geezer, and pressed his face in the hellhound''s coarse fur. Geezer let out a sad little huff, and hid his face in Oak¡¯s armpit. ¡°There, there. It¡¯s gone now.¡±


    From the corner of his eye, Oak could see Ur-Namma watching the two of them with a sympathetic look in his eyes. ¡°Should we take a brief break here so you two can recover?¡± Ur-Namma asked. ¡°We can afford it.¡±


    Oak was about to give the idea his blessing, when the sound of something running towards their position on the rooftops above killed that idea in the cradle.


    ¡°We have in-coming,¡± he whispered, and stood up, drawing his falchion. ¡°Rooftops on my right.¡±


    The clear ringing of steel whistled through the air. Ur-Namma had drawn his longsword. Geezer seemed put out by the end of the hug, but when he saw that Oak and Ur-Namma had drawn steel, the hellhound shook himself and got ready for a fight.


    Out of the frying pan and into the fire, Oak thought. Let them come. Maybe killing something will make me feel better.


    A giant spider jumped straight over the gap between buildings and vanished from view. Another one followed it. The third spider jumped down into the alley instead and landed right in front of Oak. He lifted his blade and prepared to cut the monster in two with a single swing.


    It turned out to be unnecessary. Instead of charging towards him, the spider turned tail and ran away as fast as its long legs could carry it. The eight-legged abomination disappeared into the fog like it had never even existed.


    Oak glanced at Ur-Namma, and mouthed, ¡°What in the Hells?¡±


    This was strange, even by the standards of the City of God. In Oak¡¯s experience, giant spiders tried to eat his face, not run away when they saw him. The last spiders he had encountered had been downright excited to dine on his corpse.


    The sound of roof tiles shattering reached Oak¡¯s ears. Something heavy crashed down again and again, moving closer with every violent bang and crack. He realized it was jumping from building to building in single leaps, and his face fell. The spider had not run away from Oak. Something had been chasing it.


    With a mighty crash, and the screeching sound of enormous claws searching for purchase on hardened clay, the pursuer of the spiders landed on the roof of a three-story apartment building bordering the narrow alley Oak, Geezer and Ur-Namma were sheltering in.


    The Ears of Amdusias gave Oak a preview of what was to come, waves of sound painting a picture to his mind. A giant wolf''s head, flanked by two smaller wolf heads at the ends of two thick tentacles. The beast slid into view over the alley, gigantic teeth gleaming in the gloom of the City of God.


    Oak tried to swallow the lump in his throat and failed.


    It was the chimera he and Geezer had sneaked around in their journey to free Ur-Namma from his imprisonment. Its fur was the gray color of a dark and cloudy sky, and it was the size of a small house. Drool dripped from between the chimera¡¯s many razor-sharp teeth and landed on the cobblestones not two paces from where Oak was standing.


    The chimera was about to jump again when it froze. The beast sniffed the air and turned its gaze downwards. Three pairs of yellow eyes locked onto Oak, Geezer, and Ur-Namma. The monstrous wolf licked its lips and growled. The rumbling sound echoed in the alley, and it carried with it a promise of carnage.


    Oak stared into the eyes of the chimera and cursed his luck. Into the fire indeed. As the old man used to say, when sorrows come, they come not singly. They are legion.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ur-Namma said in a resigned voice. ¡°Another specter of the past, come to haunt me. My dear sister¡¯s pet chimera. Wonderful.¡±

 Chapter 51

    Aoibheann may have been an Empress, but she had a shit taste when it comes to pets. What is wrong with owning a cat, or a dog? Hell, horses are a fine enough hobby for most rich assholes.


    The wolf-chimera eyed them all the same way a starving man gazes at a kingly feast. Their only saving grace was the fact that the alleyway was too narrow for the chimera to fit inside of it. It was not for lack of trying, either. Roof tiles and chips of wood rained on the alley as the beast attempted to violently force its way into the narrow gap.


    The walls of the buildings surrounding the alleyway held against the chimera''s rage. For now.


    Oak shielded his head with his hands and turned to Ur-Namma. ¡°What do we do?¡± he shouted over the sounds of shattering tiles and the tortured groaning of wood. He reckoned they should get a move on as quickly as possible.


    The elf¡¯s eyes were fixed on the chimera. He bit his lip in thought. ¡°Carry me,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°Carry me, and I will dive into the Dream. I¡¯ll distract the beast as best I can while you and Geezer handle the running.¡±


    Hope bloomed in Oak¡¯s heart. ¡°Can you purge its mind?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I can, and I will. But it will not be enough,¡± Ur-Namma said. He furrowed his brows and had an exasperated look on his face. ¡°My dear sister, in her infinite wisdom, gave that chimera a constantly regenerating brain. She made sure its cognitive structure renews itself in lockstep with the physical regeneration.¡±


    A tile fell towards Oak, and he stepped to the side. It shattered against the cobbles, and shards of clay peppered his trousers. ¡°Meaning?¡± he asked. The chimera was giving him an evil look. With three sets of eyes at the same time.


    ¡°It''s almost impossible to purge the beast''s mind permanently. But I can buy us some time,¡± Ur-Namma replied and sheathed his longsword. ¡°Let¡¯s wait until the chimera has squeezed itself deeper into the alley before we take off. Every heartbeat it has to spend extracting itself from this narrow gap is to our benefit.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me.¡± Oak shrugged. ¡°That constantly regenerating brain sounds useful as Hell, but there has to be a drawback I¡¯m not seeing. Why doesn¡¯t everyone with the means do something similar?¡±


    Geezer pushed his head against Oak¡¯s thigh and whined quietly. Oak knelt down and gave Geezer a hug. If this went badly, he might not have another chance.


    The best friend a man could ask for. You deserved better than me, goofball, but I¡¯m selfish enough to admit I would not change a thing. No matter if you could have gotten a better life. He kissed the hellhound on the forehead. A man should be true to himself. A hard lesson, but a lesson learned all the same.


    Ur-Namma revealed his pointy teeth. ¡°While the beast¡¯s cognitive structure does constantly renew itself, it also means it always returns to the same framework,¡± he said. ¡°If you did this to yourself, you could never truly transcend who you currently are. You would be a closed circle.¡±


    The elf spat on the cobbles in disgust.


    ¡°Stillness is death. I consider this merely a complicated form of revenant, not a truly living creature,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Get ready, and put me on your shoulder. It¡¯s almost time. On my command, you run like the Seraphim are right behind you.¡±


    ¡°The wolf is bad enough,¡± Oak said, and stood up. He grabbed Ur-Namma, and slung the elf over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ¡°Ready Geezer?¡±


    The hellhound looked ready to pee himself.


    Oak looked up. The wolf-chimera had dug its way down one floor towards the bottom of the alley, and it continued to push itself further down, to the detriment of the apartment buildings surrounding it. The beast still had two floors to go, but Oak really wanted to leave while they still could.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Ur-Namma whispered.


    The wraith. How could I forget the wraith? He closed his eyes and accessed his sanctuary.


    Their chances of survival would be a lot better if the wraith of the Librarian stood by Ur-Namma¡¯s side in the Waking Dream. With a quick mental pull, Oak unraveled the quick-release knot, keeping the wraith attached to his own wards, and sent it to the Dream. He gave the spear-wielding Librarian a set of simple instructions: stay close to him, and guard the three of them to the best of its ability against all comers.


    Barely a heartbeat had passed before he opened his eyes and looked up again.


    The chimera inched closer, teeth like daggers glistening with drool. Oak could see the whites of its eyes clearly, and in those windows to its soul, he beheld a familiar bloodlust. The beast would kill the world if it could. In this, it and the Butcher were kin. We are kin, Oak corrected himself. It would not do to fall back on old, destructive habits.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Ur-Namma whispered.


    A beam snapped in half and the wall of an apartment crumbled inward with a cacophony of noise. The chimera dragged itself another five feet closer. Soon, the wolf-heads at the ends of its tentacles would be in striking distance. The jaws of the wolf-heads snapped back and forth, impatient to sink their teeth into their chosen prey.


    ¡°Go!¡± Ur-Namma shouted.


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    Oak took off, and Geezer followed. He held tightly onto the elf as they ran towards the other end of the alleyway. If Oak dropped Ur-Namma now, the elf would die, and none of them would ever get out of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. That was not an outcome he could accept.


    The tentacles attached to the beast''s shoulders stretched themselves towards the three of them as Oak passed right under the chimera. The wolf-heads at the ends of the tentacles snapped their jaws in frustration and banged themselves against the walls of the alley. When the chimera realized that the prey it had been drooling over had, at least temporarily, escaped from its clutches, it roared in rage.


    The sound of the beast¡¯s displeasure was deafening.


    Wood splintered, and boards snapped, as the chimera tried to extract itself from the narrow alley it had burrowed into. Oak did not look back. He reckoned it would not take long before the chimera was breathing down his neck and saved all of his focus for running as fast as he could.


    The alleyway ended, and Oak burst onto the street. There was no convenient gap between buildings on the other side of the street, so he turned left and ran back towards the large road. Ur-Namma had chosen the road as their route to the fold in space that would take them out of the city, and Oak thought it best to run towards their destination instead of away from it.


    Oak turned right, stumbled on the cobbles, and barely kept himself standing. The open road stretched before him, covered in fog. Distance. As much as possible, Oak thought. Breathe. Don¡¯t pant, just breathe. There is no time for panic. He put his long legs to use and flew down the road like a man possessed. His boots beat the cobblestones in a steady rhythm.


    Geezer ran by his side. In the gloom of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, the dog was like a living shadow. The hellhound¡¯s stride was a graceful sight, and if they had not been in mortal danger, Oak would have taken the time to admire the sheer effortless nature of it. Geezer almost glided over the street. A streak of black fur, and two red eyes glowing in the dark.


    For a frozen moment in time, they ran together through the City of God, unburdened by worry and doubt. Oak could almost feel their hearts beat as one, united in the shared joy of movement and unity of purpose. Nothing existed beyond the next step. The here and now.


    A crash and a roar behind Oak heralded the end of serenity. Aoibheann¡¯s pet chimera had pulled itself free.


    Gigantic paws struck the road. Again and again. The heavy thuds were like the drumbeat of doom. Oak would have been content without even an ounce of doom, but the chimera was not interested in his opinion. The sound of enormous claws digging furrows into stone echoed on the road. The beast gained on them with every leap and stride.


    Oak tried to pick up the pace, but it was no use. He was already running as fast as he could. The rucksack full of rituals on his back, and Ur-Namma¡¯s limp body bouncing around on his shoulder did not help matters, but unless he ditched either, there was no way he could increase his speed further.


    Sound waves bounced back from the chimera, and the Ears of Amdusias painted a picture of the beast to Oak¡¯s mind long before it was visible through the thick mist. Now would be a good time for the elf to make himself useful, he thought. All help would be very much appreciated. He was no coward, but there was nothing quite like running away from a furious wolf-monster the size of a house to make a man rethink his life choices.


    To say he had regrets would have been an understatement. The first of which was all the time he had wasted lazing about, when he could have been running up and down the hills near Spoke to prepare himself for this moment.


    One thing was certain. Geezer was a true friend. The hellhound was faster than him, and yet the dog was only a couple of feet ahead of him. It warmed Oak¡¯s heart to know Geezer was not willing to leave him behind. The feeling was mutual. He was ready to meet his end in battle, but the idea of Geezer dying to some overgrown mutt was not something he was willing to abide.


    A speck of hope revealed itself up ahead. The open doorway of a house on the right side of the street was a welcome sight. Sadly, the safety those walls provided was too far away.


    The chimera closed in. Twenty feet. Oak could hear the beast¡¯s heavy breathing. By the Chariot, what are you waiting for, Ur-Namma? Fifteen feet. Ten. Nothing for it, Oak thought. Better to do it on my own terms. He was about to fling the elf forward, and turn around to face the chimera, when Ur-Namma struck in the Waking Dream.


    The chimera stumbled. It tripped over its own feet and crashed face first onto the street.


    ¡°Door on the right, Geezer!¡± Oak shouted, and ran towards the alluring promise of refuge from tooth and claw. Geezer seemed to get the idea, and the dog made a beeline for the doorway.


    The hellhound ran up the stairs and jumped inside. Oak came in just behind him, the elf bouncing on his shoulder. Ur-Namma was still in the midst of the dive. Not a second later, the chimera tried to smash its head through the doorway. The beast splintered the doorframe, and growled in fury at the prey that was giving it such trouble.


    Oak stumbled back and stared at the chimera. This felt like an opportune moment to give Pyrokinetic telekinesis a try. He pointed his right hand at the raging monster and called for the flame inside his soul. A cone of bright orange fire lept from Oak¡¯s hand and struck the chimera straight on the snout.


    The beast¡¯s head snapped to the side, and it yelped in pain. Fast as lightning, it pulled back from the doorway. The fur on its snout looked scorched, and the ends of its whiskers were on fire. Oak considered the damage. That felt about the same amount of power as a good hammer swing. The chimera roared in rage and charged the doorway again. The impact shook the walls of the house, and Oak could hear beams and planks snapping from the force.


    He repeated his earlier action and covered the monster¡¯s snout in flames. With another yelp of pain, the chimera retreated to lick its wounds.


    ¡°Take that, you fleabag!¡± Oak shouted. He wanted nothing more than to turn the mutt into a merry bonfire.


    Two figures stepped through a doorway behind Oak, into the cramped entrance hall. The blue flames inside their eye sockets flickered and focused on him. Thanks to his enhanced hearing, the pair of revenants didn¡¯t take Oak by surprise.


    He dropped Ur-Namma, and spun around to face the walking corpses. Geezer was smart enough to look after the elf, and the hellhound did not disappoint. The dog stood over Ur-Namma¡¯s limb form, hackles raised, and growled.


    The smell of sulfur filled Oak¡¯s nose.


    The undead charged forward, bony hands stretched towards Oak. Desiccated flesh covered their withered forms, and the tips of their fingers had more in common with claws than human hands. Their jaws opened far too wide, revealing rows upon rows of rotten, pointy teeth.


    Fuck this city, and every cursed monster inside of it.

 Chapter 52

    Right, Oak thought. He pulled out his cleaver and stepped forth to meet the pair of charging revenants.


    Since projecting telekinetic force through his flames had worked wonders on the chimera, Oak gave it another try. He raised his left hand and pulped the leftward revenant''s skull with a well-focused blast of fire.


    Smoldering bone fragments peppered the back wall of the entrance hall. It was sublime. The undead fell over like a marionette whose strings had just been cut.


    Another step forward. Hesitation is death. Oak leaned away from the revenant¡¯s claws and cut its head off with a single swing of his cleaver.


    The head tumbled to the floor, and the revenant collapsed. A perversion of life hacked apart and made greater for it. The stillness of the corpse was a beautiful sight. It filled Oak with joy. The shadows of the entrance hall grew darker and his vision wavered. He could feel the Butcher¡¯s presence right behind him, leaning over his shoulder.


    Ruin is our work, and our work is never over, the Butcher whispered. Can¡¯t you feel the blasphemous heartbeats of the meat behind you, desperately calling for the Slaughterman?


    To Oak¡¯s unending shame, he could feel them. Every discordant beat. The red in the veins of Geezer and Ur-Namma called to him. He wanted to paint the walls with it. Oak shook his head and stumbled. He collided with a wall, and beat his fist against the wood until skin broke and blood stained the ancient planks.


    To the Butcher, pain was an unheard voice. It whispered secrets and cajoled to greater carnage. To Oak, pain was just a signal sent by tortured flesh. Skin, muscle, and bone, all begged him to seize their punishment. The pain centered him. He experienced it unlike the Butcher ever could, and in so doing, he pushed the voice inside his head away.


    The shadows grew less heavy. Oak¡¯s vision cleared, and he leaned against the bloodstained wall. His left hand smarted something fierce, but that felt like a small price to pay for keeping the Butcher at bay. I did not succumb, he thought, and could not help the laugh that escaped from his mouth. Tomorrow is a mystery beyond my sight, but today I am still the master of my own mind. I deny you, Ferryman of Death.


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    Oak blinked away the notification from his infernal engine and focused his attention back towards the chimera prowling outside. While he had fought the revenants, and kept himself from surrendering to his own worst instincts, the beast had put out the flames clinging to its face.


    The chimera paced in front of the doorway and long lines of drool dripped from its open mouth. Geezer stood over Ur-Namma¡¯s unmoving body and stared at the beast with visible apprehension.


    Won¡¯t be long before that monster finds its courage again.


    He stepped away from the wall and shook himself. Oak did not feel as out of it as he had felt when the Butcher had emerged, and taken control in the bowels of the Imperial Library, but the vestiges of mental fog still clung to him. Absent-mindedly, he stomped out the burning, pulped skull of the first revenant he had put down before he walked over to Geezer and Ur-Namma.


    ¡°How you doing, buddy?¡± Oak asked and gave Geezer a once-over. The hellhound looked scared, but otherwise okay. ¡°I think it¡¯s a safe bet we don¡¯t want to be in this room when our large friend over there tries to squeeze himself through the front door again.¡±


    He was about to scoop Ur-Namma up from the floor when the elf opened his eyes. ¡°A large number of poltergeists are closing in on us,¡± Ur-Namma hissed. ¡°Get moving!¡± With his message delivered, the elf closed his eyes again, and presumably dove back into the Waking Dream.


    ¡°Right,¡± Oak said, and flung Ur-Namma¡¯s limp body over his shoulder. ¡°Come on Geezer, stay close.¡±


    Since Oak had already sent the wraith of the Librarian to prowl the Dream, there was nothing more he could do to keep them all safe from the horrors of the Unreal Sea. He would just have to hope Ur-Namma and the Librarian could deal with a horde of poltergeists, while he and Geezer handled things here in the real world.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Oak left the entrance hall and made his way through the house as quickly as he could. Geezer followed in his footsteps. He ignored the stairs leading to the second floor and rushed to the back of the house, where he found a small door leading to a back alley. He had no interest in taking this chase above the street level.


    Playing tag on the rooftops with a giant chimera seemed like a complicated way to commit suicide compared to just escaping by an alleyway that was too narrow for the beast to fit inside of it.


    The chimera roared, and a heartbeat later, the entire house shook. Dust fell down from the ceiling, and shelves and paintings dropped from the walls. It sounded like the beast had burst through the front of the house. Oak ignored the mayhem behind himself and forced the door open. A couple of firm kicks were all it took. He had to bend almost double to fit through the doorway with Ur-Namma on his shoulder, but in the end he squeezed past the door frame.


    It would not take long for the chimera to realize they had left the building, but at this point, Oak would take every minor advantage he could get, and be happy for it, no matter how tiny it was. Every old fart back in the Northlands always grumbled about the importance of appreciating the little things in life. Maybe they had a point.


    Still breathing, Oak told himself, as he ran side by side with Geezer down the alleyway.


    ***


    They had been running from one alley to the next like a pair of headless chickens for some time, and Oak no longer had any sense of direction. In other words, he was lost.


    The sound of shattering clay echoed somewhere behind him. The chimera followed them on the rooftops, since the back alleys were too narrow for its colossal frame.


    Ur-Namma twitched occasionally on Oak¡¯s shoulder. The elf was sweating like a laborer working in the summer sun, and Oak could sense the ripples caused by his battle in the Unreal Sea. A frigid cold bloomed on his right, a telltale sign that the wraith of the Librarian had just spilled the innards of another poltergeist.


    The horrors were getting closer and closer before Ur-Namma and the Librarian destroyed them.


    Something tapped Oak¡¯s wards lightly, and he almost tripped over his own feet in terror, before he realized no poltergeist would ever do such a thing. Another light tap on the same spot made him understand what was happening. Ur-Namma had deduced he did not know where he was going, and the elf was giving him directions.


    ¡°Well done, knife-ear,¡± Oak muttered. He had gotten off course, and he would need to turn left at the end of the alley, if he wanted to get back on track towards the fold in space. The spatial anomaly was their best hope of getting out of this cursed city, and Oak prayed it would not vanish before they reached it.


    On second thought, maybe we should take a left before the end of the alley. No, even better. We pretend we are going right.


    He slowed down and signaled for Geezer to do the same. Not every building had a backdoor leading to the alley, but enough of them did for there to be some options. Time was of the essence, so Oak chose the first open door with claw marks on it. If he was lucky, the monster who made those marks was still around.


    Oak pulled the broken remnants of the door wide open and glanced inside. Bones of rodents and other animals, the nature of which he could only guess at, littered the floor between the large shelves that took most of the space inside the room. It had clearly been the storage space of a shop of some kind.


    There were claw marks everywhere, and it smelled of rotting meat and feces. Ghouls. I¡¯m sure of it. Perfect. There was no sign of movement, so he stepped inside.


    Without a sound, Oak lowered Ur-Namma on the dirty floor, and left the elf leaning against the wall next to the doorway. The rucksack and its precious cargo went next to the elf. He would not let the rituals get damaged in a fight if he could help it.


    ¡°Stay. Guard him,¡± Oak whispered to Geezer, and pointed at the elf. Geezer followed his command and sat down next to Ur-Namma. The dog was used to guarding Oak when he dove into the Waking Dream. He could trust Geezer to stay put, even if a fight broke out.


    The handles of his blades felt solid and reliable in Oak¡¯s grip, like the very bones of the earth itself. He pulled the cleaver and the short sword free from their sheaths and took a deep breath. He could hear sounds of movement further in the shop. Ghouls scuttling about.


    A loud crash above told Oak everything he needed to know. The chimera had caught up with them. It was time to confuse the beast a little.


    The ghouls had fallen silent when the chimera landed on the roof. Oak sneaked across the storage room, to the empty doorway leading into the front of the shop, and poked his head around the doorframe. All the shutters were closed, which meant that even the faint light suffusing the gloom of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah was kept at bay.


    If Oak did not have his Boon of Darkvision, he would have had trouble seeing his own hands.


    As it stood, he could easily make out a trio of ghouls standing among smashed shelves and displays. It was a sorry sight. Father Time had done his worst, and the ghouls had finished the job. The monsters stared at the ceiling, and they seemed uncertain. He could sympathize. It wasn¡¯t every day a giant chimera landed on the roof of your lair.


    Without further delay, Oak charged out of the storage room, right towards the ghouls. There was a wild joy in his heart, and a mad laugh bubbled from his lips.


    I am a sorrow, dear ghouls. And I have come.

 Chapter 53

    It was the easiest thing Oak had ever done.


    He threw himself at the three ghouls standing inside the store and sent a blast of flame to precede himself. It struck a surprised ghoul in the chest and bowled the pale monster over. The sorry creature smashed through a broken display case, chest aflame. Its screeches of pain were lost in the pandemonium that followed.


    One of the two ghouls still standing tried to meet Oak¡¯s wild charge. It jumped towards him, claws first, looking to slice him to shreds. Oak did not bother to block or dodge. He thrust past the ghoul¡¯s extended arms with the short sword in his left hand, and buried the blade in the monster¡¯s chest. Claws feebly raked his arm and shoulder, but he ignored them, just as he ignored the ghoul¡¯s death rattles.


    Demonic constitution would take care of the damage, and it was better to end the fight as fast as he could.


    By the sound of it, the unlucky ghoul¡¯s lungs were filling up with blood. Oak flicked his blade to the side as he ran, and the ghoul slid off of it. It floundered on the floor like a fish on dry land. The last ghoul took a step back in fear. The fate of its comrades had apparently planted a seed of doubt in the dumb monster''s mind.


    Oak did not slow down. He hopped over a fallen shelf and swung his cleaver at the ghoul¡¯s head. The monster lifted its arms in a desperate attempt to block, but it was a futile effort. Oak chopped through the ghoul''s right arm and split its skull in two. The corpse fell, spreading brain matter all over the wooden floor.


    One ghoul lay dead at Oak¡¯s feet. Another croaked its last breaths behind him, blood flowing out of its open mouth. The third ghoul struggled back on its feet next to the store''s front facing wall, right in front of the closed shutters. It was clear the telekinetic force projected through the flames had broken some ribs, and there was a massive burn on the ghoul''s chest.


    Another one should do the trick, Oak thought, and willed a stream of fire into being. He aimed it at the ghoul''s head. The monster didn¡¯t even have time to scream before the flames covered its head and caved in its skull.


    The force of the telekinesis flung the ghoul straight through the shutters, onto the street.


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    Giant claws raked against the roof tiles above, and the building groaned. Oak didn¡¯t have the best track record with games where luck was involved, but he was willing to bet the chimera on the roof of the store had just turned around to stare at the burning corpse of the ghoul.


    Icy ripples traveled through the Waking Dream, somewhere on Oak¡¯s right. The wraith of the Librarian had most likely destroyed another poltergeist. Oak was well aware of the fact that they desperately needed to move, but he had to do one thing before they could leave.


    If one ghoul captures the beast''s attention, two more can only help matters.


    He picked up the corpses one by one and threw them out of the window. Two dead ghouls crashed onto the cobblestones. Oak moved back to the doorway leading to the storage room and settled down to wait.


    Come on, mutt. I know you want to get a taste of roasted ghoul. Go for it.


    The chimera did not disappoint. The beast jumped down to the street, and the force of its landing shook the earth. Oak heard it sniff the corpses. Slowly and silently, he walked back to the storage room, where he had left Ur-Namma and Geezer. The hellhound wagged his tail when he saw Oak, but fortunately, the dog had the good sense to keep quiet.


    No one could accuse Geezer of having bad survival instincts.


    It was time to skedaddle while the chimera was suitably distracted. Like a mouse escaping from the attentions of a distracted cat, Oak fled down the alleyway, with Ur-Namma on his shoulder and Geezer right at his heels.


    No, not a mouse. We are more like a mischief of mice. There are three of us, after all.


    ***


    Their escape from the chimera¡¯s fangs had been a mixed success.


    Oak poked his head around the street corner and looked across the expansive square. In the center of that square, was a courthouse. It was a large, brutal looking stone building that resembled a box. Large double doors flanked by thick marble columns led inside the house of justice.


    The entire place had a serious air about it. If someone had told Oak they used to defenestrate anyone who dared to smile inside its hallowed halls, he would have believed it.


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    According to Ur-Namma, the fold in space was inside that courthouse. Unfortunately, Empress Aoibheann¡¯s pet chimera now sat on the courthouse roof. They had successfully gotten away from the beast, but the relentless mutt had not stopped hunting them. It seemed to suspect they were still in the area, and it had climbed to the roof of the tallest building in the district to get a good vantage point.


    Currently, the wolf-chimera¡¯s back was turned towards Oak and his companions, but who knew when the beast would turn around?


    Oak retreated behind the corner. ¡°What do you think?¡± he whispered. ¡°Crossing this square without the beast noticing us is going to be tricky.¡±


    Ur-Namma frowned. The elf had ended his dive shortly after Oak had distracted the chimera with the ghoul corpses. Apparently, there had been a lull in poltergeists converging on their position. Ur-Namma had taken the opportunity, minimized his presence in the Waking Dream, and returned to his body.


    Oak had seen the wisdom in that and called back the wraith of the Librarian. When it came to the Unreal Sea, being hard to find was often better than being hard to kill.


    ¡°The fold inside the courthouse feels promising to me. I think we need to risk it, and find a way across the Square of the Secretariat,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°The other fold up on the slope of the sphere might not even be usable.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me. I¡¯m willing to entertain all plans that don¡¯t involve climbing.¡± Oak shrugged. ¡°I would rather avoid dragging you and Geezer up the slope, if we can help it.¡±


    Geezer shuddered next to them, and Oak winced in sympathy. The hellhound had not enjoyed their climb up the slope of the city to free Ur-Namma. Truth be told, Oak was pretty sure Geezer would run away if he tried to put a harness on the dog again. Considering he had slipped twice along the climb, and they had almost plummeted to their deaths, Oak could not blame him.


    ¡°Frankly, I would also like to avoid that fate,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°Dangling under you and staring at the ground far below is not my idea of a good time.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a chink in your armor, may haps? Does our venerated general also fear heights?¡± Oak asked.


    U-Namma¡¯s smile showed off his rows of needle-like teeth. ¡°Never fear, young savage. I am not frightened by heights,¡± the elf said. ¡°Your clumsiness is another matter entirely. Only your maladroit movements can leave my heart in the icy grip of terror.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    ¡°In your dreams,¡± Ur-Namma said.


    That brought Oak up short. What a disgusting mental image. He spluttered and failed to come up with a suitably firm response.


    ¡°Cat got your tongue?¡±


    ¡°Shut up, knife-ear. I¡¯m trying to exorcise this abomination of a thought you just planted in my head,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Can we get back on track? We still need to cross that square, and I haven¡¯t heard any good ideas.¡±


    ¡°I imagine those are a rare find inside that thick skull of yours,¡± Ur-Namma whispered. ¡°It is wise of you to seek my counsel.¡±


    ¡°Ur-Namma. I will slap you.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. I will control myself, for now,¡± the elf said, and steepled his long fingers underneath his chin. ¡°Our options are, sadly, quite limited.¡±


    Oak rubbed the back of his head in agitation. He had turned the problem over this way and that, and gotten nowhere. How could they safely lure the chimera away from the courthouse? They didn¡¯t have time for anything too complicated, because the fold in space could destabilize and disappear at any moment. He was about to respond to Ur-Namma when something else caught his attention.


    Geezer had walked past them both, right onto the street. The hellhound stood there in the open and stared towards the square.


    By the fucking Chariot. Is this how we die? After all this trouble?


    Oak poked his head around the corner. He would rather see his death coming than live in ignorance. ¡°Geezer, get your ass back here or I swear¨C,¡± Oak said, before he choked on his words.


    The roof of the courthouse stood empty. The wolf-chimera was nowhere to be seen. Not even a whisker remained, no matter how much Oak squinted. The beast had vanished into thin air, like it had never been there in the first place.


    ¡°Ur-Namma?¡± Oak asked.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The chimera is gone. Should we just take our chances and make a run for it?¡± Oak asked. He tugged the straps of his rucksack, making sure they were tight.


    Ur-Namma brought his hands above his head and stretched his wiry frame. ¡°I believe we should. After all, fortune favors the bold. Do lead the way, northerner,¡± the elf replied.


    ¡°Right. Follow me,¡± Oak said, and took off.


    He turned around the corner and ran towards the intimidating visage of the courthouse and its open double doors. Ur-Namma jogged behind him, and Geezer took up the rear. He kept the pace reasonable, so the elf did not fall behind. Reaching the fold without Ur-Namma would be pointless, since Oak could not see it, let alone tell if the fold was safe to use.


    The buildings circling the square had, according to Ur-Namma, once housed a small part of the capital¡¯s vast bureaucracy. They loomed large, like living nightmares, shrouded in mist. Every shadow they cast looked like a claw, ready to reach out and drag him back to the gloom of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    He felt like the eyes of the city¡¯s Secretariat watched him from beyond the grave. Ready and waiting to catalog the manner of his passing.


    They were so close to salvation now that Oak could almost feel the sun on his skin. Just past the halfway-point. Every step took him closer and closer to the open sky, towards escape from this wretched city.


    A roar sounded behind him. Fuck me. It was familiar.


    Oak threw a glance behind his shoulder, even though he knew what he would see. Aoibheann¡¯s pet had returned. The clever bastard had circled around the square and ended up behind them. The beast ran out of the same side street he and his companions had been hiding in a moment ago, and charged after the three of them. Drool dripped from its many mouths.


    Icy terror flowed through Oak.


    We are not going to make it.

 Chapter 54

    The roar of the chimera echoed in the Square of the Secretariat.


    Compared to its speed on open ground, we might as well be standing still.


    The rational thing to do would have been to make sure that Ur-Namma did not fall behind, since Oak¡¯s chances of finding a way out of the city without the elf were slim to none.


    Unfortunately, his feet were not cooperating with him. He intended to match his speed with the elf, but instead he ran as fast as he could manage. Cold sweat dripped down his back, as Oak sprinted towards the open doors of the courthouse.


    A shadow fell over his mind, and despair took root in him. The square seemed to stretch before him, the distance to the safety of the courthouse never changing, no matter how hard his legs pumped. The air was heavy, and he had to push through it. It felt like the city itself had brought all of its malice to bear upon his shoulders. Mocking faces filled the mists, and their whispers dripped with the poison of hopelessness.


    ¡°You will die here and take your place among our ranks. You will be bone-dust swirling in the wind. Forgotten grief lost to the wastelands of time.¡±


    Oak shivered so harshly he could barely run. The cold of the grave was in his blood. It slithered through him, made a home of his body. As it settled in his heart, the Ears of Amdusias showed the chimera¡¯s approach in vivid detail. The sound of its charge carried an image of primal splendor to his waning mind.


    The beast¡¯s claws tore up the cobbles. It galloped after them, graceful despite its gigantic size. The eyes of the chimera were wild with rage, and slobber spilled from its lips, which were pulled back in a snarl. In the darkness of the City of God, the gray fur of its coat looked like steel, and the white of its dagger-like teeth glistened like purest ivory.


    Every passing moment brought the chimera closer. Long steps ate up the distance. The end was upon them. Death had come at last.


    Oak stumbled.


    No.


    The thought echoed from the deepest reaches of his consciousness. It was a denial of weakness. A refutation of the mere possibility of failure that made his soul ring like it was a gong.


    I am the Blood-Splattered Fist. The Unholy Mincer of Meat. I am the Slaughterman.


    The Butcher was there. Right behind him, risen from the pit of his mind. Oak could feel a blood-soaked hand grasp his shoulder, and the presence of the Slaughterman steadied him. He straightened his back and found his footing. If he was to die, he would do it on his own terms.


    The wounds that killed him would not be found on his back.


    ¡°Wrath! Wrath, and struggle eternal!¡± Oak shouted, and turned around to face the chimera.


    Ashmedai. The Last Believer and the First Apostate. Let your eyes feast upon this sight. Let me fulfill your glory, he prayed. Steel whistled a beautiful song as he drew the two-handed falchion from his hip.


    The guiding hand of the Butcher carried him forward, towards the charging beast. Towards glory and carnage. Ur-Namma stumbled past him. The elf gasped for breath, and sweat shone on his forehead. Oak wished he would reach the safety of the courthouse. The chances that he would manage the same were not great.


    The reverberation of Oak¡¯s soul found another like it, and a resonance built between them. Geezer stopped running, and they faced the chimera together. He had given no order, asked for no favor. And yet, his cowardly hound stood by his side all the same.


    It was loyalty beyond anything he had earned.


    The chimera was so close now that he could see the whites of its many eyes. Its steps set the earth trembling, and its jaws opened wide, ready to rip him to pieces. Fur, fang, and claw raced to spill his blood on the cobbles beneath their feet. The beast was an avalanche made flesh.


    A growl shook the world and stole the breath from Oak¡¯s lungs. It did not come from the chimera. He watched in wonder as Geezer stepped forth and growled once more. The fires of hell blazed in the hound¡¯s eyes, and his shadow grew until it dwarfed even the chimera.


    There was something terrible in the hellhound¡¯s growl. Forbidden. Unfit to be heard inside the brittle thing called Creation. Terror. Terror overwhelming. Inside that growl was the end of all things. A memory of the void before the Mother sang the world into being.


    Geezer¡¯s first magical ability had manifested in style.


    The wolf-chimera stopped in its tracks like it had just run into a wall. It yelped in confusion and horror, and bent down, clawing at its ears until they bled rivulets of blood. The tentacles attached to its shoulders convulsed like snakes suffering from terrible pain, and the wolf heads at the ends of them howled to keep the emptiness of the void at bay.


    Oak took advantage. He sprang towards the chimera and hewed a great wound on the beast¡¯s shoulder with his blade. Hot, steaming blood stained the square.


    The chimera rounded on him, but he danced away from its claws with light steps. He was a leaf on the summer breeze, ethereal and untouchable. Twice, the tentacles snapped towards him, fangs cracking shut inches from his face. The Branch of Kimaris kept him alive. He could feel the difference in reaction time as he bobbed and weaved away from the chimera¡¯s fangs.


    Dodging was all well and good, but it would not get rid of the chimera. Even disoriented by the hellhound¡¯s growl, the beast was a tough opponent. Geezer flanked the chimera, trying to find a blind-spot, but the wolf''s head at the end of the chimera¡¯s long tail kept the hound at bay.


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    The beast did not care a whit about being surrounded. Why would it? It had more than enough heads to fight in all directions at the same time, and it did not seem concerned about injuries. Oak watched in dismay as the wound he had struck on the chimera¡¯s shoulder knit itself together.


    Right. Ur-Namma mentioned some type of regeneration. Just my kind o¡¯ luck. This thing is going to be a bitch and a half to kill.


    If that thing got a hold of him, it would not end well. Oak had seen what wolves and dogs did to small prey. He figured the beast would sink its teeth into his flesh and shake him like he was a bunny rabbit. If he was lucky, his neck would snap instantly.


    Things are going poorly, when that seems like a probable scenario.


    The beast launched itself forward, trying to close its monstrous jaws around Oak. He stumbled back, heart bounding, feet slipping on the cobbles, and smacked the chimera in the snout with a telekinetic blow carried by fire. Whiskers aflame, the wolf-chimera howled in pain and fury. He saw it flinch when the fire licked its face. It did not appreciate being set ablaze.


    Thank the Corpse-God for small mercies.


    Ur-Namma had reached the courthouse steps. The sound of the elf¡¯s sandals slapping against the stairs amidst the chaos was a ray of hope shining in the dark. The courthouse was close now, fifty paces away. They just had to get to it.


    The chimera came at him again. Oak retreated quick like, and the beast harried him, poking and testing his defenses. Probing for weakness. Five, six, seven, eight. He counted his steps as he walked backwards and kept the monster away with bursts of flame. Eleven, twelve, thirteen.


    The beast crept closer, rage and fear apparent in its eyes, locked in a competition for dominance. It wanted to rip him apart. It was afraid of the fire¡¯s kiss.


    Geezer tried to get close enough to bite the monster, and almost got squished to paste for his trouble. The dog hopped back, away from giant paws and snapping teeth. Large claws dragged furrows into stone. Gigantic jaws opened wide, and the beast lunged after the hellhound.


    Oak¡¯s blade flickered like a snake and drew a line of blood on the monster¡¯s flank. Lean left, whispered the Butcher. A tentacle snapped at his face, but he was no longer there. He cut off the head at the end of it and burned the chimera¡¯s flank until the howling monster turned its attention back towards him.


    The beast convulsed and heaved for breath, clearly not used to losing any of its heads. Don¡¯t worry, mutt, I am sure it will grow back. Nineteen, twenty. Thirty paces to the courthouse steps.


    ¡°Geezer. Get going!¡± Oak shouted. The dog did not move an inch. ¡°Go, you bloody fool!¡±


    The hellhound roared at the wolf-chimera. Every lantern still holding a flame around the square flickered, and the faces floating in the mists of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah twisted in agony.


    The horrific sound contained a promise. A cessation of all meaning. The Final Stillness at the end of time, when the last star in the night sky has burned itself out, and the world returns to the cold womb of its Creator. The unbirthing of existence itself.


    That promise sent the chimera stumbling. The beast beat its head against the cobbles, trying to shake out the thoughts causing it such pain. Oak had not even been the target of the roar, and he felt like doing the same thing. A headache pulsed behind his eyes. The meeting of skull and stone was surely nothing compared to the eldritch terror stalking the corridors of the beast¡¯s mind.


    Geezer let up the roar and turned to run. Oak followed in the hound¡¯s footsteps.


    Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. By the Chariot, how can fifty paces take this long to traverse?


    The steps of the courthouse were made of slick marble. With a chimera hot on his tail, Oak stumbled and slipped up the steps in what had to be a record time. He threw himself after Geezer and Ur-Namma, through the wide double doors of the building.


    For the second time that day, he landed on hard stone in a heap. Compared to landing on the cobblestones outside, it was not too bad. At least the marble floor was even.


    A great crash sounded behind him, and Oak turned to watch. The enraged chimera stuck its head through the doors, trying to squeeze its shoulders past the entrance. The door frame snapped, and the beast inched closer.


    Kill it, the Butcher whispered. I will show you how.


    Oak scrambled to his feet. Ur-Namma leaned against the dark wooden paneling covering the stone walls, wheezing like the geriatric he was. Frayed and faded pieces of carpet covered the floor. Despite the serious aura, and the high ceiling, it was not an ostentatious space, and it was not meant to be.


    Both sides of the antechamber had a row of simple benches for people to sit on, and there were some brackets with halberds and the like hanging on them, but otherwise, the hall was bare of decoration or flare. Before the Doom, a row of rectangular glass windows high on the wall would have provided natural light to those visiting the courthouse.


    A single, wide hallway led further inside the building.


    The elf pointed down the hallway. ¡°The fold. That way. In the atrium.¡± Ur-Namma croaked. ¡°Come.¡±


    The wolf-chimera snarled and clawed forward, shattering the marble floor in its rage. Its tentacles snaked their way inside, past the broken door frame. The one on the right ended with a stump, and a steady stream of blood pooled on the floor below it.


    Kill it, The Butcher whispered. The Slaughter is not finished. The meat still draws breath.


    The bloody hand on his shoulder gave him a comforting squeeze. Oak saw his own reflection in the pool of blood. No. He saw their reflection. The Butcher stood behind him, eyes wild, panting. His mouth was like an open grave. Inside, Oak saw flashes of the Charnel Pit. Corpses stretching to eternity.


    What a beautiful sight.


    ¡°You go ahead, Ur-Namma,¡± Oak said, and handed him the rucksack full of rituals. ¡°Take Geezer with you and make sure the fold is safe. I will finish matters with our friend here.¡±


    The elf blinked. There was surprise in his eyes. ¡°Is that wise?¡± Ur-Namma asked, struggling with the weight of the backpack. ¡°The beast won¡¯t be able to fit inside these walls. We can just leave it here to vent its fury.¡±


    Oak gave no answer. He stared at the chimera, fixated on the raging, roaring monster trying to smash its way inside the courthouse. Just a bit further, and the chimera would find itself utterly stuck on the narrow opening. His infernal engine hungered for the creature¡¯s soul.


    Chips of stone peppered his trousers. There was so much to cut in such a large beast. So much blood to spill.


    ¡°Well, if you are certain,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°Follow me, Geezer.¡±


    The elf straightened himself, and hobbled out of the antechamber, the straps of the rucksack digging into his bony shoulders. Geezer gave Oak a look, but he shooed the dog away, and the hound left with Ur-Namma. It was better this way. Safer. Out of sight, out of mind. He would not feel the temptation to sink his blades into either of them.


    Oak was going to enjoy this kill alone.

 Chapter 55

    So soft. So tender and ripe, the Butcher whispered. Blood and offal will nourish our bones. Our roots will drink deep.


    The wolf-chimera¡¯s roars echoed in the darkness of the antechamber, as the beast forced itself forward, inch by inch, through the broken doors of the courthouse. Its left shoulder was almost past the door frame it had shattered with its own charge.


    Oak looked at the beast and shivered in delight. He was alone. He could let loose and enjoy himself to the fullest extent. And there was so much carnage ahead for him to appreciate.


    He thanked Ashmedai for the gift of Darkvision. Without it, his eyes could not feast upon all the wondrous sights to come.


    Can you hear the meat sing to us? the Butcher asked.


    Yes.


    He could. It called to him, full of blood and so alive. So sinfully alive. The twitching flesh yearned for the comfort of his touch. It yearned for the peace of stillness. He would grant its wish. After all, it was his calling.


    First, we split the skull. The Butcher giggled. Chop, chop.


    The bloody hands on his shoulders pushed him to the right, and Oak followed their guidance. He came at the beast from the side, where it was weak and defenseless. The chimera¡¯s left shoulder was fully inside the antechamber now, and so was the stump of the tentacle attached to it. Just the stump. His blade had cut off the wolf''s head, which now rested somewhere on the Square of the Secretariat.


    May ghoul''s feast upon it. May cockroaches nest inside the hollowed out skull.


    The stump of the tentacle tried to strike him down, but Oak sliced through it with contempt. Meager measures would not hold him back, not now. He raised his falchion high and chopped into the side of the beast¡¯s head with all of his considerable strength.


    The blade made a wound, but only scratched the bone.


    The wolf-chimera snarled and tried to turn its gigantic head so it could bite the annoying gnat stinging its head. Twice, it wrenched itself to the left, trying to catch Oak with its fangs. It could not reach him.


    Chop, chop, chop.


    The hall shook, as the beast threw its head this way and that, trying to avoid the sting of Oak¡¯s falchion. A futile effort. Its neck was stuck between the edges of the doorway and its own shoulder. There was nowhere for it to dodge. Hot blood dripped onto the shattered marble. Chips of white bone landed amongst the splattering of red.


    Chop, chop, chop.


    Oak could smell it in the air. The panic. The fragrance of fear. Whines of pain echoed from the stonewalls, as the chimera recoiled away from his blade as much as it could, and tried to retreat through the doorway. Back to the steps of the courthouse and the Square of the Secretariat.


    Mightily, the beast struggled and writhed in place, but it was of no avail. The stone held it in its grasp, and the thick walls of the courthouse did not yield in the face of its desperation.


    Chop, chop, and chop.


    The falchion sunk deep into the chimera¡¯s skull. The beast convulsed, and its legs went limp. It crashed to the floor. Unseeing eyes stared straight ahead, as it lay there twitching, choking and bleeding. Incapable of further struggle, but still alive. Felled by its own hubris.


    Oak pulled his sword free, and chopped some more until the entire top of the skull cracked like an egg. He climbed on top of the monster¡¯s snout and bathed the exposed brain in flame. No notification came from his engine. Even after he had turned its gray matter to cinder, the beast clung bitterly to life.


    It was still regenerating.


    No half measures, remember? The Butcher laughed. Bring the halberds. After that, we need all those benches.


    Oak hopped down from the smoldering head of the chimera, sheathed his sword, and walked over to the halberds mounted on the wall of the antechamber. He ripped them from their brackets and brought them back to the beast.


    Do what comes naturally, the Butcher whispered.


    The halberd felt solid in his hands. Oak tested the edge of the axe blade with his thumb. It was still sharp enough to draw blood. He brought the weapon above his head and chopped into the inside of the chimera¡¯s skull. Charred brain matter flew everywhere, and the axe blade stuck deep into the bone.


    He repeated his actions with the other halberd.


    Try regenerating around those, you big fuck.


    Now, the benches, the Butcher murmured.


    Oak chuckled and rubbed his hands together in glee. He could see it unfold in his mind''s eye. The conflagration to come moving backwards in time to this moment, from the crescendo that would swallow the beast. He moved quickly and carried the benches over to the chimera from both sides of the antechamber.


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    They were made of some dark wood Oak did not recognize, and they were heavy. Solid. Age had dried them out, and calcified the wood. Out of them, he would create a foundation for the bonfire.


    He would send the beast off like a heathen king of old, ashes rising to the Heavens above, scattered by the four winds.


    One by one, Oak piled the benches over and around the chimera¡¯s gigantic head. Bench by bench, the bonfire took shape, and he found it good. Pleasing to the eye. When he was happy with it, Oak gathered some fist sized pieces of marble the beast had knocked loose, and threw them at the glass windows high on the front facing wall, over the doorway. The fire would need air to feed it, and the smoke needed a place to go.


    Glass shattered, and shards of it rained on the floor and on the steps outside.


    It was time. Oak gathered himself and set the bonfire he had built ablaze with a steady stream of flame. Slowly, the fire built upon itself. Wood cracked, and sparks flew to the ceiling above, already clouded by smoke, streaming out of the broken windows.


    Fur smoldered, and the smell of burning hair invaded his nostrils. Not much longer now. The flames were hungry. They raced across the wood and danced on the beast¡¯s whiskers.


    There it was. Oak breathed deep, and sighed. Fat sizzled, and the aroma of burning meat overpowered all other smells, as Empress Aoibheann¡¯s favored pet burned like kindling. The conflagration he had imagined, realized.


    Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.


    The sight of it was inspiring. All the suffering and toil had led him to this moment. The Oak of old could not have brought this beast low. He had been an accomplished warrior, but his old self would have died a hundred deaths before even reaching the Square of the Secretariat and this courthouse. And on that square, in all of that open space, the chimera would have caught him with ease.


    It would have ripped him apart, spilled his guts to the cobblestones.


    Hells, a week ago summoning flames so many times in succession, would have left him shivering on the brink of death. Now he was slightly winded. The exertions of his time in the City of God had strengthened his soul. He was a Warlock now, and he carried the boons of Ashmedai with pride. The beast¡¯s soul was his to claim. His to wield in the fulfillment of glorious purpose. It would fuel the fires infernal inside his engine, just as the beast¡¯s body now fueled the bonfire he had built.


    Be this a sign of things to come. A premonition of the future.


    Shadows danced on the walls, and sweat ran down Oak¡¯s face and chest. It was getting hot inside the antechamber. Almost uncomfortably so. Despite the heat, he did not move away. Could not, until the soul was his. Nothing could cheat him out of his price.


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    + 6 Fuel


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    Ah. Yes! The song of the meat fell into silence. Stillness, at last.


    Oak threw his head back and laughed in delight. To see the fruits of his efforts was a joy so sublime it almost consumed him. He wanted more. More death. More souls. More. The evidence of his rise was exhilarating to witness.


    Hungry is the heart, ain¡¯t it? The Butcher asked. Do not worry, the work is never over. Creation provides for the Slaughterman.


    A step back. Another. Oak breathed deep, and tried to claw back control. The bloody hands holding onto his shoulders resisted his efforts. He felt the blood dripping from them, staining his skin. Warm, cloying liquid mixed with his sweat.


    He did not relent.


    Bit by bit, Oak dragged the Butcher back into the pit of his mind, and closed the door shut. He gasped and sagged in relief. The keys to his own consciousness were still in his grasp.


    Time to leave this wretched city behind. So long, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    Oak gave one last look at the burning corpse of the wolf-chimera stuck in the doorway and the ruin of the antechamber. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air, and the flames crackled merrily, throwing bursts of sparks to the ceiling. Firelight twinkled from the shards of glass covering the floor.


    He turned around, facing the hallway leading deeper into the building, towards the atrium, and walked into the darkness. Ur-Namma and Geezer awaited.


    Down the hallway he stalked, cloaked in shadow and silence. Past open and shut doors leading to who knows where. There was only one destination that interested him today. The fold in space. The open sky called to him, ready to welcome him to the world beyond the sphere. Soon, he stood in front of the heavy doors leading to the atrium at the heart of the building.


    He stepped inside and looked around. The circular space was, for the most part, covered in neat rows of chairs and desks, every section narrowing symmetrically towards the center. In the heart of the atrium was a circle of empty space, with a podium in the middle of it. The ceiling was multiple stories tall, and a balcony circled the room, allowing those above to watch the proceedings below.


    You could have easily fit a longhouse or three inside the atrium, and there would have been room to spare.


    Everywhere he looked, Oak could see signs of use. The furniture was worn in the places people had gripped it over and over again, like the armrests of the chairs, and there were paths of wear and tear on the stone floor. Thousands, no, tens of thousands of feet had walked these paths over the years this court had given judgements.


    He lifted his gaze away from the stone floor. Right across from him, opposite the main doors on the other side of the room, was an elevated dais. On it was the judge''s bench. Geezer stood on top of the bench and stared at an empty point in space in the middle of the dais. The hellhound had a funny look on his face, and his head was tilted slightly in a familiar posture that signaled deep confusion.


    Ur-Namma stood to the side of the judge''s bench, looking at the same point of empty space. The elf took some type of wooden rod from a nearby desk and chucked it at what Oak presumed was the fold they had been looking for. One moment the rod flew through the air, and the next it vanished, like it was never there.


    What in the Hells?


    ¡°Nice of you to join us. You are just in time,¡± Ur-Namma said. ¡°The fold is destabilizing, so if we are going to use it, we must do so right away.¡±


    Pretty freaky. Well, nothing for it. Out of our two options, I much prefer this fold. At least reaching it did not require a climb up the slope of the sphere. In a place like this, a man must find joy in the little things.


    In a way, it was a blessing in disguise that they had no time to waste. If there had been no hurry, Oak would have had time to agonize over whether the fold would spit them out two hundred feet above the ground or not. Now, he just had to act, and hope for the best. That he was quite good at.


    ¡°All right then,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Let''s get out of here.¡±


    He had taken only a couple of steps towards the center of the atrium when something crunched under his boots. Oak lifted his leg to look at it and blanched. Droplets of blood, and something white and small. He leaned down to get a closer look.


    Why are there human teeth on the floor?

 Chapter 56

    The teeth lay there on the worn stone floor of the courthouse atrium, white bone dotted with splatters of blood.


    I have a bad feeling about this.


    ¡°Ur-Namma. Have you been collecting human teeth, by any chance, and not telling me about it?¡± Oak asked. ¡°Because if you¡¯ve lost a couple, they are right here in front of me.¡±


    The elf looked away from the fold in space, brows raised. ¡°No, I have not been filling the pockets of my robes with human teeth. Such a plebeian trophy is beneath me,¡± Ur-Namma replied. ¡°Hurry, the fold is destabilizing as we speak.¡±


    Geezer snarled, and his hackles stood on end. Inhuman wails responded, echoing from the stone walls of the atrium. Something moved in the darkness above. Something white and gleaming.


    Humanoid figures vaulted down from the balcony circling the atrium and landed among the neat rows of chairs and tables. Wood broke and splintered into pieces under the monster''s weight. The creatures straddled the line between strange and plain horrific.


    They were men of bone and cartilage, covered in teeth all over, and sporting wicked claws. Mutated husks devoid of humanity. They had no visible eyes, and their lipless mouths hung open, revealing rows of flawless teeth.


    Elvish curses spilled from Ur-Namma¡¯s lips and his thin, long fingers grasped the straps of the rucksack on his back with a white-knuckled grip.


    Oak counted four monsters. All of them stood between him and the dais. Between him and the way out.


    Figures. I guess it would have been too easy otherwise.


    Sounds of running, and a chorus made up of screeches and wails, brought a vision of a horde to his mind. Abominations converging to their location from all around the building. A whole gang of gnashers.


    What is a courthouse without its judges? Law, without the enforcers? Today, justice is blind. And apparently, it has teeth.


    A fifth boneman jumped down from the balcony across the atrium, landing in a crouch not two steps from the elevated dais upon which Ur-Namma and Geezer stood. Too close for comfort.


    The hellhound growled, but the terrible energy that had suffused the sound in the Square of the Secretariat was gone. Only a faint wisp of it remained, and the boneman weathered it undaunted. Geezer stumbled to the side, head drooping. The dog shook with exhaustion.


    He locked eyes with Ur-Namma. The elf was on his last legs, and they both knew it. It felt like time stood still, and yet there was not enough of it to say all he wanted to say. A nod would have to suffice. The elf nodded back. Ur-Namma knew him well enough to know what he wanted if the worst came to pass. Geezer would not be alone.


    ¡°Sixty heartbeats!¡± Ur-Namma shouted. The elf grabbed a hold of Geezer and pulled the hellhound through the fold. With a faint pop, they both disappeared, taking the rituals with them to safety.


    Sixty heartbeats, before the fold collapses. All the time in the world to stroll across this hall. But to fight through it? We will see. Hesitation is death.


    ¡°Right. Let''s get to it then,¡± Oak said, and cracked his neck.


    The bonemen charged. He pulled out his two-handed falchion and moved to meet them.


    The first man of bone and cartilage took the full brunt of Oak¡¯s flames to the face, and fell backwards onto a row of chairs. A brutal swing bisected another. He rushed through the shower of blood, and dodged right, jumping over a pair of desks. Fifty-five.


    A clawed hand of gleaming, polished bone reached for Oak, grabbing, tearing. He lopped the offending limb off and pressed forward. Ever forward. The bonemen were not idle. They turned over tables and threw aside chairs as they sought to rend his flesh. Chaos descended. The air was filled with grunting, wailing, and the breaking of wood and bone.


    Oak repaid every scratch with a swing of his sword, sending hands and heads flying as he ran. Forty-six.


    Two abominations of bone jumped down from the balcony above. Another two followed close behind them, eager for battle. A boneman launched itself at Oak, trying to tackle him to the ground. He evaded, jumping over another row of chairs and tables. The stone floor greeted him harshly. He landed awkwardly, twisting his ankle, and cried out in pain. Forty.


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    Leg smarting something fierce, Oak hobbled into the circle at the center of the atrium. Halfway there. Every step was a struggle. The bonemen harried him from all sides. He tried to make room and push through again, but the monsters were cunning.


    They dodged, kept out of his reach, and waited for others to join them instead of facing him without help. A blow landed on Oak¡¯s back, sending him reeling. Roaring, he turned and swung with all of his might, cleaving the boneman in two. Claws raked his side, retreating out of reach before he could retaliate. He stumbled, but kept himself standing. Thirty.


    Defending, retreating. Knuckles covered in the teeth of men smashed into his face. His head snapped to the side, nose broken. Oak¡¯s back smacked against the podium at the center of the atrium. Blood flowed freely from the wounds on his back and on his side. His leg gave out, and with a cry, he fell to one knee. Tired. Barely able to lift his blade.


    How many heartbeats has it been?


    The bonemen crowded around him, inching closer. There were so many of them. Hungry maws opened wide. The monsters struck him with fleeting blows, leaving shallow wounds behind. They mocked his efforts, made fun of his hopeless struggle. The bonemen had him right where they wanted, and now they played with their food.


    His vision swam, and the whispered promise of the mists of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah rang in his ears.


    You will die here and take your place among our ranks. You will be bone-dust swirling in the wind. Forgotten grief lost to the wastelands of time.


    When hands covered in blood grabbed hold of his shoulders and dragged him down into the dark, Oak did not resist.


    He welcomed the Butcher with open arms.


    ***


    A savage heart beat in the Butcher¡¯s chest. He was a hardwood standing tall in the storm. The roots of his bones dug deep into the foundations of the earth, pushing him up to his feet. Aches and pains were nothing to the Slaughterman. Bloody lips opened wide into a wicked smile as he raised his head and faced the meat surrounding him. They did not know it yet, but death stood among them.


    The Butcher¡¯s ears were sharp. He heard the mocking whispers of the bonemen, hidden among the screeches and wails.


    ¡°This one thinks himself mighty. Look at him, standing there like his defiance will matter.¡±


    ¡°Pummel your skull, bleed you dry.¡±


    ¡°I have reached a verdict, dear colleagues. His blood is tasty. Rich and smokey.¡±


    Dead meat, speaking hollow words. Violence would silence their tongues.


    ¡°You think to bleed me dry? Use me for supper? Me?¡± the Butcher laughed. ¡°I will drown you in your own feeble blood. Fools. The Ferryman of Death cannot die.¡±


    A blow came from the left, and he flowed under it like water down a stream, already swinging. His blade cut through bone and sinew, parted flesh from flesh. The boneman fell screaming, arms flopping, ripped open from navel to neck. A stomp on his head crushed the skull, and decorated the floor with his brains.


    The rest flinched back in surprise, startled by the sudden death of their comrade.


    Flames answered the Butcher''s call, and the bonemen burned in droves. One of them got clever and threw a chair at him. The Butcher dodged and came for them. Claws reached for him from all directions, but it was for nought. He was a hare hopping, a lynx on the prowl. Too agile by half.


    His target dove away from the first strike, crawling under a table to escape. The second swing chopped through the table and severed the boneman¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Cowards, one and all. I will end your shame!¡± the Butcher shouted. ¡°Come! Come and face me!¡±


    A heavy weight landed on his back, and thick arms caught him in a bearhug. No matter. A tree could bend in the wind. He dropped his falchion and dove, rolling, twisting, turning. Sharp claws shredded his sides. He wriggled like an eel, until he was on top, and his hands were free. They were not empty for long.


    One chop from his cleaver was all it took to split open the boneman''s skull. The Butcher hopped up, laughing.


    The slaughtered corpses of the bonemen strewn across the atrium joined his laughter. Their voices warped and grew heavy, laden with meaning. The choir of the dead sang a lament for their living brothers. They were yet to receive his kindness, and worse for it.


    The remaining bonemen gathered to face him. Seven against the Flesher himself.


    I am a mountain face in a thunderstorm. A landslide rushing downhill. I am the Butcher, and my blades extract a heavy toll.


    ¡°You are hurt, warrior,¡± the leader said. ¡°It is over. Bow down, and I will end your pain.¡±


    ¡°Hurt? You are wheat to my sickle. I will reap you, fool!¡± the Butcher laughed. ¡°If only there were more of you to kill!¡±


    The leader was kind enough to charge, so he kicked a chair into the boneman¡¯s feet, causing him to stumble, and hammered the top of his head into a smoldering pulp with a pyrokinetic blast of orange flame.


    Such a pretty sight. Crackle and burn, my candles of bone.


    Cleaver and short sword in hand, the Butcher went to work, wet eyes shining with joy. There was a hook waiting beyond the veil for each carcass he cared to make. And there always would be.

 Chapter 57

    Awareness returned, and it did not come alone. Pain. So much pain. Oak was fucked up beyond belief.


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    At least this entire shitshow had not been for naught.


    ¡°Still breathing,¡± he whispered, and spat out a tooth. It clinked on the stone floor, rolling to a stop against a snapped chair leg.


    Oak found himself sitting against the podium at the center of the atrium. At the center of the destruction. The place had seen better days. All around him lay the corpses of the bonemen, some still burning, others hacked to pieces. Heads and limbs scattered among the blood and offal. Broken chairs, fallen tables, splintered desks.


    Somewhere in the chaos, there had to be an undisturbed piece of furniture still standing, but for the life of him, he could not see it.


    He felt much like his surroundings looked. His head throbbed with pain, wounds covered his body, and his ankle ached something fierce. Groaning, Oak dragged up the right leg of his trousers and surveyed the damage. The ankle was twisted to shit, swollen like a pit fighter¡¯s face after a bad loss. He let go of the leg and leaned against the podium, eyes closed.


    Fuck me.


    Fresh blood still trickled from open wounds, flowing over dried, flaking patches of older stains covering his skin and his clothes. All the exhilaration of killing the chimera and exceeding his own mortal limitations was long gone.


    Oak opened his tired eyes, and looked at his legs again. Could he even walk with that ankle? He would soon find out.


    Something white and gleaming caught his attention among all the blood and filth. It was sticking out of his thigh. He plucked it out of his flesh and brought it close to his face. It was a single clawed finger. Oak flipped it around in his hand, staring at it. He laughed. It was so absurd. All of it. A leviathan and a chimera. Folds in space. Abominations of bone. To get so bloody close, and to be denied at the final stretch.


    Waking up with a finger sticking out of his leg was nothing special in comparison.


    Getting upright was a difficult task, but Oak just about managed it. He grit his teeth, and limped to the dais across the aftermath of the battle, one careful step after another. Every time he put weight on his right leg, he gasped, trying not to squeal in pain. Running was out of the question for the foreseeable future.


    It was a fool''s errand, but he had to make sure. Ur-Namma could have been wrong. He dragged himself up on the dais, cold sweat mixing with the gore of his enemies, and the warm blood oozing from his own clotting wounds. The truth of him was on display, but there was no one alive to witness it. A hurt man. A man who hurt.


    He hobbled to the spot where the fold had been. Where Ur-Namma and Geezer had vanished into thin air.


    There had been no hope left, and still a twinge of disappointment stabbed at Oak¡¯s heart when nothing happened. The elf had not been mistaken about the timing. The fold had indeed collapsed. He let out a deep sigh, hoping that Ur-Namma and Geezer were safe and sound. The possibility that the fold had dumped them hundreds of feet high on the outer surface of the sphere was unthinkable, but it existed all the same. For all he knew, they might have dropped to their deaths shortly after hopping through the fold.


    Oak shook his head, shaking away the depressing thoughts. They were a distraction, one he could not afford in his current condition. There was nothing he could do to help his friends from inside the city, which meant he had to get to the other fold in space Ur-Namma had pointed out to him on their way to the courthouse.


    A spot in the air about five feet past the top of a church''s bell tower, high on the slope of the sphere.


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    It was not all bad. At least he knew where to go, and he was traveling light. Unlike he had feared on the way here, he would not need to drag Ur-Namma and Geezer up the slope. Just his own heavy self. That was his saving grace, because climbing with a twisted ankle was going to suck.


    Better get moving. I have a long way to go, and there is no telling when the other fold will collapse. Hell, it could have collapsed already. I won¡¯t be none the wiser until I try to jump through it and go splat on the street below.


    Huffing and puffing, Oak lowered himself down from the dais with exaggerated care. He already had a fucked up leg, and he did not feel the need to make it worse. Moving with the speed and grace of a geriatric cripple, he shifted through the carnage until he found all of his blades and headed out of the atrium door.


    No matter what, a man could not leave the tools of his trade behind.


    ***


    The streets of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah were quiet. Tranquil.


    From alley to alley and sidestreet to sidestreet, Oak limped towards the beginnings of the slope, and the church high above. The mists of the City of God followed in his wake, and no monster assailed him on his journey. The mist swirled around faded signs and abandoned carts blocking parts of the road. It whorled up the sides of wooden, many-colored apartment buildings, hugging them like a loving parent, forming faces with expressions filled with anticipation.


    Distant laughter and the muddled sound of whispers beyond the edge of hearing filled the air.


    The city around him felt almost giddy with excitement. Like it wanted to see him make the attempt, struggle up the slope, and break himself upon its cobbles when he inevitably lost his grip and fell. The uneven stones felt like the teeth of some great beast under Oak¡¯s worn down boots, waiting with bated breath to chew him up and swallow him down. They longed to taste his blood.


    Sweat dripped down Oak¡¯s back, irritating his many wounds. He hobbled onwards as fast as he was able, caught between the terror of being too late once again, and the fear of overexerting himself before the climb. Both mistakes would lead to his doom. He avoided putting weight on his right leg as much as he could, leaning against walls whenever possible.


    Every limping step, a struggle. Another opportunity to quit, lay down, and accept death. He felt like a man walking to his own funeral.


    ¡°Just focus on the next one,¡± Oak muttered to himself. ¡°Always the next one. It is the most important step of your life. The most important step in the world.¡±


    He could not help cackling. Sometimes, a pain digged at you so harshly, you could either laugh or cry. Oak had no choice but to laugh. If he didn¡¯t, he would squeal like a stuck pig every time he had to put weight on his right leg.


    The alley opened into a wider main road, and Oak lifted his gaze. He could see his destination, now that there were no walls or roofs on the way. A rectangle of a building, and a spike jutting out from it. The harsh lines of the church made of gray, uncompromising stone and black metal looked imposing.


    The knowledge of what he had to accomplish to reach the tip of that bell-tower, hanging horizontally over an empty drop, did not help matters.


    Oak could not lie to himself. Not now, and not ever. The Butcher had cured him of that fault. He was terrified. If he could choose between the climb ahead of him, and giving the fight with the wolf-chimera another go, he would choose the chimera in a heartbeat.


    Heights and trees did not mix well. His roots wanted to dig deep into the earth, not dangle above ground.


    Like a nightmare unfolding towards its inevitable conclusion, his legs took him up the road. Slowly, the stone under his feet morphed into a slope that went on and on as far as the eye could see, until he was looking at the streets and buildings hanging right above him. Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, a city twisted into a sphere.


    Oak felt the empty space that a front tooth had left behind with his tongue, and stared at the slope of stone, wood, and concrete in front of him. He did not need a mirror to tell there was a resigned look on his face. The feeling of impending doom deep in his gut told the story better than any looking glass.


    It''s funny. I lost a tooth to some fuckers covered in the bloody things. You would think abominations like that would have enough teeth, but it seems even walking crimes against Creation can be greedy twats.


    ¡°Now you are just stalling,¡± Oak said to himself, and it was true. He was focusing on irrelevant things, delaying the inevitable. ¡°Nothing for it. One foot in front of the other.¡±


    He limped on, and with every moment that passed, the sensation of being watched grew. Soon he was leaning against the slope, and using his hands just as much as his legs, bloody fingers digging into crevices, searching for handholds. In no time at all, he was past the point of no return. There was no way to climb back down in his condition. He would have to finish what he started, or die trying.


    Up the he went, and the mists of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah followed.

 Chapter 58

    Oak dug the tips of his fingers into the small crevices between the stones, bracing his left foot against a windowsill. He leaned as close as he could to the corner created by the house and the street it was jutting out of, over the vast emptiness below.


    The slope was pretty steep already, and it would only get steeper. He had a long way to go before he would reach the church.


    Right hand secure. Left hand secure. Left leg braced. Push and pull. Nice and easy, slow and steady.


    The climb towards his last chance to escape the gloom of the City of God was plagued with a sad sort of irony. It had taken Oak most of his first climb up the side of the sphere, before he had freed Ur-Namma from the stone, to realize that he should have been climbing mostly with his legs instead of his hands. The hands were supposed to hold on, and the legs were supposed to push upwards. Dragging yourself up with your hands required a lot more effort in comparison.


    Thanks to his twisted ankle, he was now armed with knowledge he could not fully utilize. His right leg could not support his weight, and it dangled uselessly below him as he dragged and pushed himself upwards, inch by torturous inch.


    Oh fuck. Oh, no. Dear Corpse-God in Heaven.


    It had been a hell of a week. He was wounded and exhausted. Thirsty and hungry. But beyond all other afflictions, he was terrified. Oak had learned during his time in the City of God that he feared heights. Quite a lot. He really would have rather taken a second round with that chimera, if it had been an option. Monsters were easy. You could fight them, face them head on with magic and might.


    The climb was a different matter entirely. It was a battle against the self. Against his own fear and failing body. There was nothing to rage against, nothing to get his blood pumping. His only recourse was to encourage himself to keep going.


    As he climbed, he imagined what he might eat and drink when they finally reached civilization. Roasted chicken. Taters. Pork, cooked on an open flame, tender meat slipping straight off the rib. A pint of malt beer, a nice loaf of warm bread, and a good stew. A man could die for less.


    The city watched him and waited. The mists of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah clung to the bottoms of his boots, pulling him down. They crept along the slope, swirled around the houses, apartment buildings, and little shops. Faces appeared in the corners of his vision, voices whispered words of discouragement to his ears.


    ¡°You have been forced to journey in the darkness, chased away from the light.¡±


    ¡°You have been hemmed in with no escape, weighted down by chains of sin.¡±


    The voices came from nowhere and spewed their baneful despair at Oak without pause. They rose into a chorus, dripping with wicked joy, reverberating with mischief and mayhem. The Waking Dream of a mountain of corpses. A tomb turned into a ruined beast.


    ¡°Your path is crooked, your sight blind. You will step astray and fall into the endless night.¡±


    ¡°You will eat gravel, be trampled into dust. You will forget happiness and let go of hope.¡±


    The whispers of the mists stoked his fears and heightened his terror. When thoughts of food failed to lift his spirits, and the fear continued to creep in, Oak turned to other avenues to distract himself from the long drop below him. The feeling of rain on his skin. The sight of the rising sun, and the open sky high above. The ripples of small streams.


    Oak thought of the North and his homestead. The pines bending with gusts of wind, chickens prancing in the yard. A house filled with memories and comfort. Built by his old man. A place to plant his feet. A place he had called home.


    ¡°You will linger homeless and heartless, your soul soiled with wormwood and poison.¡±


    ¡°Your skin and flesh will be stripped away, your bones will be chewed up and broken.¡±


    It was hard to keep silent. Hard not to lash out at the words promising him torment after torment, but he managed it. His rage at the mists would have been a child''s anger. Purposeless, only stoked to make him spend effort for anything but the climb.


    Instead, he thought of the boons Ashmedai might grant him once he got out of the city. One possibility, in particular, seemed priceless in his current circumstances. Without the Branch of Buer and the Boon of Demonic Constitution, he would have fallen long ago. Supernatural endurance and fast healing had fueled him during his journey in Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, and even now, they kept him moving upwards. Reaching for the next hold, digging his fingers into the gaps between stones.


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    He would ask for another boon from the same branch, that was certain.


    Oak came to the end of the row of houses he had been wedging himself against and gulped. Above him was another long stretch of open slope. He recognized the look of it. It had surely been one of those absurdly wide roads, before the summoning of the flesh of God had twisted the city upon itself. He and Geezer had crossed many of them on their journey across the city.


    By the Chariot, this is going to suck. Might as well get on with it.


    He took a deep breath and continued. Hold after hold, crevice after crevice. He climbed and climbed, while the mists following him hid the houses he had just passed from view. There was one thing to be grateful for. With the mists at his heels, looking down did not instantly make him want to throw up in fright.


    Sweat dripped down Oak¡¯s forehead and into his eyes, as he secured his grip on the lip of a deep hole in the steep, almost vertical slope. A good, secure hold did wonders for the spirit, when one was hanging hundreds of feet above ground. The slope was treacherous. He wiggled his toes, digging his feet into tiny, slippery crevices. His left leg slipped. Oak jammed his right hand deep into the hole, and held on for dear life.


    For a couple of agonizing moments, he hung there in utter mindless panic, both legs desperately searching for something to stand on. His heart did its best to beat itself out of his chest. A small ledge, formed by a protruding cobble, came to his rescue.


    Shivering like a man in the grips of high fever, Oak tried to steady his breathing. That had been close. Way too close. It took some time before he tried to pull his right hand out of the hole he had jammed it in.


    With exaggerated care, he pulled.


    The arm did not move. Not because it would not follow his will, but because it was stuck. He was stuck. The mists whirled around him, mocking faces peering for a closer look.


    ¡°You will pray for salvation, and no one will answer.¡±


    Oak was not proud of it, but in that moment he was reduced to a frozen wreck. High on the slope of the City of God, he shook in place like a leaf on the eve of autumn, waiting for the wind to snatch him away.


    What had the mists promised him? What had the city foretold?


    You will die here and take your place among our ranks. You will be bone-dust swirling in the wind. Forgotten grief lost to the wastelands of time.


    It hurt to admit, but the mists might have been right in the end. He pulled again, but the arm did not move. How could he extract himself? If he pulled too hard and the hand suddenly came free, he would fling himself off the slope, and break his body upon the streets below. The cobbles would get to taste his blood. If he did nothing, he would die here of thirst and hunger. Waste away, and leave a skeleton behind, hanging on the slope.


    No good choices. Just my luck.


    Oak was so tired. His body ached in half a hundred places, and he just wanted to lie down and rest. Sadly, it wasn¡¯t on the cards. He tried to pull his hand free once more and found his limb would not obey him. The thought of falling from the slope because he pulled too hard refused to leave his mind. He sagged and panted for breath.


    Thoughts of power and comfort could drive him no longer. The fear was in his bones.


    Never before had he felt so hopeless. In that moment, a single kind word would have meant the world to him. There were none on offer. The mists were his only companion, and one could not rely on them for encouragement. He searched his heart for wisdom instead.


    Geezer, and Ur-Namma.


    They could not face all that was to come without him. For their sake, he needed to live. Still, his arm refused to budge. The heart of a selfish man would only move so much for the sake of others. Oak dug deep. There had to be something. Something that would force him to take the risk and free his hand. Something to give him the courage to face the moment.


    A realization bloomed. Ur-Namma was his only friend. The friends of his childhood were dead. Died one by one in the war. He had kept people at arm''s length after that, and his many sins had not made it difficult. He had a fearsome reputation.


    The crushing weight of loneliness did not settle on his shoulders. Oak just noticed he had already been carrying it all this time.


    If he died here, on this slope, he could never forge genuine connections with others, never find more friends to cherish.


    If he died here, he would never be a better man, worthy of friendship or love.


    If he let his fear win, he would never step out of the Butcher¡¯s shadow.


    It was unacceptable. Oak relaxed his right fist and made his hand as small as he possibly could. Bit by bit, he pulled his hand free from the stone¡¯s grip.


    It felt like a victory.


    ¡°By the fucking dead,¡± he said. ¡°If I survive this, I will never climb a tree ever again. I won¡¯t even climb a chair. I¡¯ll sit down on the floor from now on.¡±


    It took some deep breaths and more courage than Oak had thought could ever be found inside his heart, but he pushed himself upwards, and reached for another hold.


    And another after that.

 Chapter 59

    A house made of red brick and mortar hung horizontally over the vast emptiness below, sticking out of the side of the curving slope of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. It had a sloping roof with quite a lot of shingles missing, and tiny, broken windows. The old building showed some scars, but it had stood the test of time.


    A calloused hand covered in nicks, and bruises grabbed onto the edge of the house. Filthy fingers, smeared with blood and grime, searched for purchase in the shallow grooves between the bricks. They found it and held on tight.


    Oak pulled himself up, fingertips digging into the small imperfections on the brickwork. He floundered to the top of the wall of the house and gasped for breath like a beached fish. Every muscle in his beaten body complained loudly at the treatment he was putting himself through.


    A short break. Just so I can catch my breath. By the Corpse-God, my leg is killing me.


    The brick was uncomfortable to lie on, so Oak dragged himself to a sitting position on the edge of the brick and mortar, feet dangling.


    Much better.


    Hunger and thirst gnawed at him, and he did his best to ignore them, just like he tried to ignore the ache of his wounds. Almost falling and then getting stuck on the slope had been horrifying, but he had overcome his fear, and the subsequent realizations about himself had left him feeling lighter. Loneliness. The need to do better, maybe even be better, if such a thing was possible for a man like him.


    It was said that to know oneself was to glimpse the Godhead. Oak could not say if that was the truth of it, but he had seen himself, and he was better for it. Despite his ailments, he felt steady. Like an old, thick tree whose roots had dug deep into the earth. The climb ahead held no fear for him any longer. He would cling to the slope like a birch tree to a cliff, crawl up the stone like the roots of a mountain pine.


    Nothing the mists could utter would uproot him now.


    The view was haunting but gorgeous. The City of God spread out below him, around him and above him. Streets shrouded in shadow and fog criss-crossed the surface, like a web of veins in the flesh of some great beast of legend. Structures that dwarfed all Oak had seen before coming here dotted the city. Palaces of silver glass and white marble, towers of red granite and black stone. Courthouses, stores, apartments and mansions. Warehouses and workshops. The occasional spot of dwindling light shone in the gloom. Enchanted lanterns fighting a losing battle against the encroaching dark.


    The longer he spent here, the more the duality of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah struck him. It was the tomb of a civilization. A monument to an empire laid low. At the same time, it felt sickeningly alive. The Waking Dream of a million souls, a sea of ghosts lingering in its mists. Beautiful and deadly. The dragon¡¯s malice had seeped into the city so deep that you could feel the hate and arrogance permeating the very air when its attention fell upon you.


    It was the cocoon of Yam-Nahar, in service to his profane feast. It was the belly of a ruined beast, digesting the bitter meals of suffering and death. Nothing good could come from a place such as this.


    At the center of the city stood the great ziggurat, made of giant blocks of white limestone and fired brick. The symbol of the reign of Aoibheann and Ur-Namma. Sister and brother. Empress and general. Now that symbol belonged to someone else.


    The long and sinuous tail of Yam-Nahar had not moved in the time Oak had been watching. It still circled the ziggurat, scales of black and silver glistening with unnatural light, like diamonds in the dark. The mists hid away the rest of the imposing beast. The sight of it stole the breath from Oak¡¯s lungs, set his heart beating like a drum.


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    One day, they would face the owner of that tail in battle.


    Yam-Nahar, the last of the dragons of old. He Who Feasts on the Flesh of God.


    From the moment he had accepted Ashmedai¡¯s bargain and become a Warlock, he had been set on a course towards that confrontation. The fight for the lives of every soul on Pairi-Daeza. The fight to break free from the chains of the old order. The fight for the right to choose your own faith, and make your own mistakes.


    The angels had their part to play in the coming struggle, and Oak had not forgotten it. It enraged him beyond reason. The hypocrisy of it was maddening. Inaction in the face of Armageddon was a sin. What a disgusting and craven impulse, to let something else lay your enemies and friends alike to waste, and then swoop down like a bird of carrion to lord over the ashes left in the wake of your cowardice.


    When the followers of Ashmedai killed kings, they did not leave the deed to the hands of unbelievers. No heretic could be allowed to steal the glory of the Children of Strife. Every crown slain was an act of worship and an act of actualization. They would bring a better world into being, one death at a time.


    No Gods, no kings.


    Where was the virtue in letting someone else fight your battles for you? In Oak¡¯s eyes, the angels had lost their edge. They were, for the first time in eons, scared. Nothing else could explain such a drastic shift in their ways.


    Ashmedai had the right of it.


    The angels were losing, and they knew it. Inaction in the face of Yam-Nahar¡¯s ascension was a culmination of the onward march of the demons, and the ensuing desperation on the side of the angels. Nothing else would make the Choirs sacrifice the lives of their own followers.


    Still, the fact the angels were shitting themselves in fear did not mean their plan could not work. Looking at the beast that might just cleanse the continent of life and provide the Choirs with the clean slate they yearned for could make a man think. A dragon was always a fucking dragon. Arrogant. Unassailable. An army of one.


    Best of all, this one was dining on the Divine. Who knew what the beast was capable of, after centuries of partaking in such forbidden fruit?


    I sure hope that the Sacrament of Ingurgitation is all it''s cracked up to be. If the empowerment ritual we found from Aoibheann¡¯s secret stash can¡¯t be reconfigured for our purposes, victory will not be in the cards.


    Oak stared at Yam-Nahar¡¯s unmoving tail and thanked his lucky stars the beast was still asleep. The entire mission would have been impossible otherwise. They had a couple of years at most before the force of nature down below awakened, and Yam-Nahar would know in an instant that Ur-Namma had escaped. The beast had been the one who cast the curse. He would know someone had broken it and released Ur-Namma. He would know that his enemies were on the move.


    If Ur-Namma¡¯s jailors noticed he was gone, they might try to recover him before alerting Kurigalzu or waking the dragon. For good reason, since such a failure might be deadly otherwise. Kurigalzu did not seem like a forgiving leader, and Oak doubted Yam-Nahar was any better.


    Dragons were not known for their mercy.


    Because of the ache of his many wounds, and the exhaustion left behind by the day''s events, Oak did not fancy the idea of continuing the climb, but he did not feel anxious either. It was just an unpleasant chore that required doing. A task that needed doing before he could kick up his feet and finally rest. He glanced up towards the church. The distance did not seem insurmountable anymore.


    Wincing, he stood up and tightened all the straps holding his weapons in place. It was time to find out if the fold was still there. Time to see whether he would escape the City of God, or become a wet smear, decorating the street below. Or the ground outside, depending on what height he would exit the fold.


    Not being able to know before he jumped was a cruel joke, but that seemed like the only humor in town. Beggars could not be choosers, and Oak was fresh out of options.


    The cruelest joke of all would be to get out of the city and find out that Ur-Namma and Geezer were dead. That the fold they had used had dumped them both high on the outer surface of the sphere, and the drop had shattered their bodies. Oak was not willing to accept such a possibility. Ur-Namma and Geezer were alive. They had to be, because he did not know what he would do if they were dead.


    Oak rolled his shoulders and shook out his three working limbs.


    One last dance, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. One last dance.

 Chapter 60

    The final stretch of the climb felt like a victory lap.


    Oak clambered up the vertical slope like a squirrel, fluid and certain in his movements despite his exhaustion, the tiny church firmly in his sights. It was an imposing rectangle of gray stone and black metal. Harsh lines and brutal surfaces. A long spike of a bell tower jutting out of the top of the building, over the streets below.


    If his luck held, and Ur-Namma had not been mistaken, the fold in space would still be there. Hanging in the empty air, just past the point of the bell tower''s roof.


    The mists still followed his progress, but they were silent. Morose even. The indistinct faces watching him from the swirling clouds of fog held disappointed and bored expressions. Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah had had its chance to claim his life, and the city had failed. It had been a close thing, but Oak had overcome his fear of heights and snatched himself free from the jaws of the cobblestones.


    Fuck you, and fuck your ghosts, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah. I will not lose my grip, and the fold will be there waiting for me. You can be satisfied with the horrors that dwell in your bowels.


    Up and up, Oak climbed, using the outer face of an old warehouse to support his weight. Window sills and doorways made for good places to plant his feet. He advanced quickly, excitement flooding his veins now that his destination was close at hand.


    The holds came easily to him, one after another, and he crossed the last road between himself and the church in record time. The open gates of the churchyard welcomed him, and he dragged himself upwards into the yard, surrounded by a decorative wall of stone. Gnarled, dead trees and dry earth covered the enclosed area.


    Oak had been mistaken, and Creation certainly had a sense of humor. Now that he was close to the church, he could tell it was not a church at all. Or more accurately, it had once been a church, but some enterprising soul had converted it into a temple before the Doom. A temple of Ashmedai.


    A large carving of the Demon adorned the front wall of the temple, over the main doors. A large humanoid form with three heads, armed with a lance. The first head resembled the likeness of a bull, the second like a man and the third like a ram. The tail of a serpent circled down the left leg of Ashmedai.


    Oak was certain the Demon¡¯s human face was grinning at him.


    Ashmedai sure provides for his followers, eh? Oak sighed, and pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Blinding pain radiated from his nose, and he yanked his fingers away, cursing up a storm. He had forgotten the bonemen had broken his nose. Son of a bitch. Whatever. At this point, I will take what I can get and be happy with it.


    Following along the wall seemed like the easiest way to reach the temple, so Oak did precisely that. In no time at all, he was level with the temple, then above it. Flinging himself from one dead, dried up tree to another until, at long last, he dropped down to the outer wall of the temple with an uncoordinated tumble.


    Just the height of the building to go, before the leap of fate. Oak hobbled onwards, biting his teeth together to keep himself from wailing. His right ankle felt like it was hanging on by a thread. The rest of his body felt only slightly better.


    The mists of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah circled the temple, swallowing it whole. They swirled between his legs, and formed strange, undulating shapes in the deep shadows cast by the few lanterns still working at these heights.


    The faintest creaking of hinges on his right alerted Oak to the danger, and an image formed in his mind. A large window on the side of the church had just opened, and something was crawling through it. The Ears of Amdusias had once again saved his ass.


    The skulking, crawling thing dragged itself on top of the church without a single sound. It was, without a doubt, one of the creepiest things Oak had ever seen. The first thing he noticed was the face. Its facial features were those of a bald man on the cusp of youth. The monster had kind, brown eyes. Giant fangs burst from the unnervingly human mouth, twitching in the air.


    Seems puzzled. I probably disturbed its rest.


    The thing he had woken up with his hobbling gait was a humanoid spider. A human torso stuck out of the place where a spider''s face would normally reside. No carapace or chitin covered the monster¡¯s misshapen body. Instead, skin and weeping sores covered its frame, eight legs and all. Those legs ended in hands with unnaturally long and thin fingers.


    The human-spider hybrid locked eyes with Oak, and hissed, fangs clicking against each other.


    ¡°No. Absolutely not. I refuse to engage in any more nonsense.¡± Oak blasted the giant spider of skin and bone in the face with a torrent of pyrokinetic flame, and flung it down into the city below with a fiery expression of his will.


    He hobbled to the edge and watched it drop, legs wriggling and face aflame, until the brick wall of an apartment building broke the monster¡¯s fall. The sound of it smashing into paste echoed across the districts. The abomination came apart like a sack of rotten fruit, limbs and innards flying in all directions, leaving only a wet smear behind.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    + 1 Soul


    + 2 Fuel


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°Good riddance.¡± Oak spat a glob of spit after the monster and limped away from the edge. Falling to his death by accident at the final stretch wasn¡¯t something he was going to risk.


    Oak hobbled on, skirting around some stained glass windows, and reached the end of the temple¡¯s front wall. The tower waited below. He knelt, and carefully lowered himself down, holding onto the edge where the temple¡¯s roof met the wall. A short drop later, he was on the outer wall of the bell tower.


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    If he was not too late, the fold in space should still hang in the air, past the point of the tower¡¯s roof. Oak rushed forward as fast as he could, urgency giving strength to his tired limbs and pushing back the pain. He had to hurry. For the sake of Geezer and Ur-Namma. For the sake of himself. In that moment, the fate of the continent was the furthest thing from his mind.


    The tower narrowed towards the end. There was still plenty of room for Oak to plant his feet, but walking on that spike of stone stretching over the long fall below made his knees quiver. Once more, he felt the attention of the city keenly. The mists languishing in the emptiness on either side of him whispered their spite to him, calling out like the intercessors of some long-lost horror.


    ¡°You are a footstool of the Demon, a blazing wrath guided to another¡¯s ends.¡±


    ¡°Yours will be the sorrows and the bile, his will be the bread and wine, the kingdom infernal.¡±


    ¡°Your dreams are rotten, your plans a delusion. Your tears will fill the oceans and water the earth.¡±


    ¡°You will drown in your regret, Oak of the North.¡±


    The tip of Oak¡¯s left boot met the end of the bell tower¡¯s wall. He had made it. As the faces in the mists peered at him with bitter expressions, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for the plunge.


    As the old man used to say, indecision and delay are the parents of failure. Hesitation is death. Get to it, and see it through.


    ¡°Fuck you, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah, and fuck your portents,¡± Oak replied. ¡°Your words are wind.¡±


    Kingdom infernal? Best laid plans falling into ruin? What a joke. He followed the Scourge of Thrones with open eyes. No Gods, no kings. The freedom for all to make their own choices. That was their creed, and he would see it done, no matter the cost.


    The stone in Oak¡¯s pocket fit into his palm like it had been made for this moment. He had carried that piece of rubble with him all the way from the Imperial Library. It was nice to get some use out of it. He chucked the stone at the point where the fold in space should be, hanging in the air right past the end of the bell-tower.


    The stone vanished. He had not been too late.


    Oak rushed forward without delay, ankle screaming for relief, boots slipping and sliding on the roof tiles, and jumped from the tower.


    Air rushed to meet him, and for a single, heart stopping moment he fell, staring at the city spreading below him with wide eyes. The ground was so far away. If he had misjudged his jump, he would have time to curse his luck on the way down.


    Aaaah! By the Corpse in the Highest Heaven, fuck me!


    A boundary broke, and space sundered into maddening vistas of unreality. Something caught Oak by the pit of his stomach and yanked to a direction that he could not describe even if hot irons sought the answer from his lips. Whether the world fell away, or he fell away from the world, one thing was for certain.


    He was getting out of the City of God.


    ***


    ¡°Aaaah!¡±


    Oak fell, and the world spun around him like he was a spinning top. Trees and earth. Water. Trees. The night sky.


    Impact.


    Cold waters swallowed him, and he fell to the bottom like a rock. Head spinning and lungs screaming for breath, Oak kicked himself off the mud, and swam upwards. He burst through the surface of the water with a shout, gasping for breath, and sent great splashes flying in all directions. Exhausted and shivering from the cold, he swam to shore and collapsed on his back into the grass.


    ¡°Took you long enough, northerner.¡±


    Oak turned to his right and saw a truly welcome sight. The grinning face of Ur-Namma. The bald and wrinkly elf was standing on the shore of the pond he had just climbed out of, five paces to his right. He was about to reply, when a heavy, barking weight fell on his chest, and he got a mouth full of fur.


    Laughing, and wincing from the way such rough housing pulled at his many clotted and scabbed wounds, Oak pulled Geezer into a hug. The hellhound licked his face like it was a piece of candy, tail wagging with such force it looked like it might come loose.


    Since Oak¡¯s nose was broken, the experience was not particularly pleasant, and he turned his face away to shield himself from further harm.


    ¡°I was starting to wonder whether you would make it.¡± Ur-Namma skipped a flat stone across the pond with a lazy flick of his wrist. ¡°Glad to see you in one piece.¡±


    ¡°Glad to see you too.¡± Oak scratched Geezer behind the ear, relishing his reunion with the dog. ¡°I may have left a tooth behind, and my leg is killing me, but other than that, I have never been better.¡±


    Ur-Namma tsked. ¡°My friend, you look like shit. Your nose is so swollen it resembles a potato.¡±


    Oak could not help it. All the stress that had piled on his shoulders during his lonely and desperate escape erupted into a giggling fit, which left him gasping for breath on the wet grass. He almost pissed himself from laughter, such was the depth of his relief.


    Still breathing. Take that, Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    When he finally got himself back under control, he sat up, despite Geezer¡¯s insistence to lick his face clean of grime, and looked at his new surroundings. Behind him stood the gigantic earthen sphere that was the outer shell of Ma¡¯aseh Merkavah.


    In front of him was a plain dotted with copses of trees, bushes, the occasional rock, and green grass as far as the eye could see. Far in the distance, a hare dashed out into the open from a small thicket, and vanished behind a mossy rock.


    He had done it. He had gotten out of the City of God. They all had.


    The open sky spread above him far and wide, stretching out into the horizon. It was dotted with stars, twinkling like tiny candles in the blackness of the void. After the long days spent inside the enclosed sphere, the vastness of the night sky gave Oak a sense of vertigo, but he could not avert his gaze. It had been too long since he had seen the stars.


    Darkness lingered in the west, but in the east a pale light glimmered, growing in strength by the moment.


    A Sunrise. A real sunrise.


    Something wet dripped down Oak¡¯s cheek, and he realized he was crying. He didn¡¯t bother to wipe his tears. There was no need because Geezer''s tongue lapped them up. A delicate, thin hand clapped him on the shoulder, and a solemn Ur-Namma sat down next to the two of them. He had not realized the old elf had even moved.


    The sight of the world beyond the sphere had utterly stolen his attention, and stunned him into stupefied silence.


    Together, the three of them watched a new dawn chase the darkness of the night across the sky. There was a lot of work, and many challenges ahead of them, but all of that would keep for the moment.


    It¡¯s good to be alive.