Priestess of War (The Bowl of Souls Book 10), page 23
As if to underscore his point, another of Rufus’ boulders streaked in, this one striking the rock golem directly in the head. The boulder shattered and the golem merely shook its head. The ogres arrived and began beating at its solid body, their clubs having very little effect. It swung an arm, sending several of them sprawling.
“Master Locksher, do you think you could magic up one of Maryanne’s arrows?” Fist asked. “Her bow isn’t strung with a dragon hair string like Justan’s was, but maybe that could work?”
The wizard blinked. “I see what you’re thinking. I could definitely do so, though I am not exactly sure that it would have the desired effect. The golem Sir Edge shot at the Mage School was not made of such stern stuff.”
Maryanne pulled out one of her arrows that was not already charged with electric magic and handed it to the wizard. “Get creative.”
“Alright,” he said, frowning at the arrow in his hand. “It may take me some time to make this effective, though.”
The golem swung an arm in a massive punch, sending ogres sprawling and caving in the head of one of them who had been unlucky enough to absorb the full impact of its fist. It continued up the hill past the ogre’s defenses, absorbing every impact sent against it. Behind the golem, the infested dead were streaming out of the pass.
Charz shouted at the rest of the ogres to get back. Crag smartly agreed, instructing the ogres to attack the infested instead. The ogres followed the commands of their chief and soon only the rock giant stood in the path of the golem, his magic trident in hand.
“I’ve got to get down there,” said Fist.
Me too, said Squirrel. The furry creature bounded from Fist’s shoulder and started skittering agilely down the sheer cliff face.
“No!” Fist cried out and shouted through the bond. Get back here! You can’t do anything to help with that! You are not Deathclaw!
I will help! Squirrel insisted. I will help like Squirrel!
Letting out a curse, Fist hurried down the trail, looking for a section of the cliff that wasn’t too steep to slide down. Squirrel watches. Squirrel plays jokes! Squirrel doesn’t fight!
Ooh, ooh! Agreed Rufus through the bond, just as worried about Squirrel as Fist was. The rogue horse climbed down the cliff face towards them.
Not any more, Squirrel said with determination. I fight! I learned how.
No you didn’t, Fist insisted. You watched me fight. I’m an ogre!
You’ll see, Squirrel promised.
You’ll get squished! Fist came to a point in the trail where the cliff side seemed to slope away just gently enough. He jumped off the trail, sliding down towards the ground by the seat of his pants. It was a jagged, rocky stretch. His pants tore and his legs were scraped up, but Fist didn’t care. He struck the ground hard and stumbled forward, pulling his mace from its harness. Squirrel!
Charz knew exactly what this thing was. He had fought a golem once before well over a century ago while he was still a gladiator in the Royal Arena in Khalpany. At that point in his involuntary career, he had been undefeated for ninety years straight.
The crowd had grown tired of his success. Where he had once been their favorite, they now saw him as a villain. The Unbeatable Charz was booed in every match. Attendance sagged.
The overseers felt that something needed to be done. Charz needed to be defeated so that a new champion could rise. So they hired a wizard to create a construct. A rock golem.
The golem Charz had fought that day hadn’t been as large as this one. It had been about his same height, while this one was a good foot and a half taller. But it had been carved a bit better, given a strong, proud face. This one was rough-hewn, with coal-like stone for eyes, a square bulge for a nose. It’s mouth was fierce though, it’s jaw fixed in a scream of rage.
Killing it wouldn’t be easy. Somewhere in this thing was a core of magic that held it together. Break that and the thing would collapse. Of course, the Priestess of War wouldn’t have put it somewhere easy to get to. The other wizard sure hadn’t. That fight had lasted for hours and in the end, he had gotten lucky, shattering just the right chunk of rock to kill it. Oh how the arena fans had hated that.
Charz smiled at the memory. This was going to be fun.
He backed up, letting the golem come towards him, luring it into an open area where he would have room to fight it. He could have his fun while the ogres fought the dead. The ogres stayed back, giving it a wide berth and the thing came right at him. It knew who the biggest and most powerful threat was. Charz found the right spot and stopped, letting it come.
Mog rushed in from the golem’s side. The blue-skinned netherhulk swung his huge stalagmite club in a vicious overhand blow. The golem reached one arm up defensively and caught the blow on the forearm.
The stalagmite, a weapon that had crushed countless infested dead, broke in half. The rock golem’s forearm broke too. A section sheared off, leaving the golem without a left hand, but also leaving a jagged point behind.
“Blast it, Mog!” Charz roared. “This is my fight!”
“My club!” Mog lamented, looking at the stubby remains of his once useful weapon. Thus occupied, he did not react fast enough when the golem swung his undamaged arm in a counter punch. Its rough-hewn fist caught the netherhulk in the side of the face, sending teeth and acidic saliva flying.
Squirrel came to the bottom of the cliff face determined to fight and irritated that Fist did not believe in him. Maybe he wasn’t Deathclaw, but he was strong too. Fist would see.
Squirrel! Stay back! Fist shouted again through the bond.
No! Normally, Squirrel would have just closed the bond and ignored him. Only this time he needed the bond to stay open.
His head darted around, sniffing as he looked for the best target. The ogre clubbers were crowded amongst a large group of the dead. The fighting was intense, perhaps not the best place for him to be scurrying around.
Finally, a good opportunity presented itself. One of the dead, an infested gorc, peeled away from the press and made its way up the hill towards the ogre camp. No one else had spotted it yet.
Excited, Squirrel ran towards it. As he did so, he reached deep into his bond with Fist and searched for strands of the ogre’s elemental magic. In Squirrel’s mind, it was as if the ogre had a huge cheek pouch full of the stuff.
Squirrel had long been fascinated with Fist’s elemental talents. He didn’t have the intelligence to comprehend all of the ogre’s lessons at the Mage School, and Darlan’s lectures seemed mostly nonsensical to him, but he had always been excited by the results. He liked to watch Fist prepare his spells and one in particular had seemed fairly simple.
Squirrel leapt up onto the gorc’s leg and scampered up its body. As he did so, he pulled strands of gold and black magic through the bond and wrapped them hastily around his furry body. He had practiced this countless times over the last several days and knew what to do.
The dead gorc was slow to react to Squirrel’s presence. It continued its shuffling progress towards the ogre camp. The larvae inside it had scarcely noticed the furry creature’s climb until it reached the back of the gorc’s neck. Then Squirrel began to vibrate.
His little body shuddered, rubbing the strands of magic against each other until there was a sharp zap! Electricity shot through the gorc’s body, bursting each of the larva in a puff of steam. The gorc collapsed.
See, Fist! Squirrel leapt from the rotting body before it hit the ground. He pulled more threads of gold and black magic through the bond and decided on his next target. I can fight too!
Fist stumbled in surprise as he saw the gorc go down. Had Squirrel really just done what he thought he saw? Squirrel? How did you-?
Zap!
Another dead goblinoid collapsed. Squirrel leapt from its back, his little thoughts filled with glee. I watched you. Now I fight like Squirrel!
Now Fist understood. Squirrel had visited his dream and saw himself with that electric sword. Then he had tried to figure out a way to duplicate it. This explained what he had been doing while he had been going off and hiding and, more importantly, why Fist’s magic had seemed to drain so quickly over the last several days.
What Fist didn’t understand was how that was possible. It seemed backwards. He could pull energy from Rufus, but he was supposed to be able to. He was the bonding wizard. Did this mean Rufus could start pulling magic from him too? For that matter, could he reach through the bond and use Justan’s frost magic?
The avalanche of possibilities threatened to give him a headache. He pushed those thoughts aside. There were far more important things to worry about at the moment. Not far from him, Charz and Mog were tussling with that rock golem.
He pulled more energy from Rufus to replace the magic Squirrel was taking. Just, be careful! He warned, knowing that there was nothing he would be able to do to dissuade the little beast. Everybody is bigger than you.
Zap! An infested ogre collapsed.
Squirrel leapt from its body. I know that! He ran towards another dead goblinoid who had wandered away from the clubbers. He leapt onto its torso, his little body vibrating. But I am faster.
Zap!
Letting out a groan of anxiety, Fist headed towards the battle with the rock golem. He wasn’t the only one. Rufus ran up right next to him. Qenzic and Lyramoor were already there pacing close to the fight, looking for a way to help.
“Ooh!” said Rufus, then he sent, Looks hard.
Fist had to agree with him. Mog’s face was swollen and bloodied, while Charz’ chest was covered in a multitude of bleeding cracks where the golem’s punches had landed. Meanwhile that stone golem was tough.
It had received some gouges from Charz’s trident, but the cracks that the golem had received from Rufus’ thrown boulders had healed themselves. Its only lasting damage of note seemed to be the one forearm that had broken, but in Fist’s mind, the jagged piece of rock that remained attached to its elbow looked like a dangerous weapon unto itself.
Charz reared back, barely dodging another swing of the golem’s rocky fist. Mog jumped it from behind, wrapping his huge arms around its body and grabbing its arms, trying to immobilize it. The netherhulk was just about the same height and bulk as the golem and, though he had to visibly strain, he was able to give Charz a clear opening.
“Thanks, Mog!” Charz growled and thrust his trident dead center.
The magic of the trident allowed it to pierce magically reinforced armor and also slow healing. These attributes made it ideal for piercing the solid body of the golem. All three prongs pierced into the rock, burying themselves up to the fork.
Grinning in triumph, he tried to remove the weapon, but it had become stuck. Charz growled and put a foot on its chest, trying to pull it free, but it remained embedded. Roaring, he let go and threw a heavy punch into its face, busting it’s blocky nose to powder.
“Fist!” shouted Maryanne over the tumult and Fist glanced back to the ledge to see her still standing by Locksher who was fiercely working spells on that arrow. She pointed down at the entrance to the pass.
The clay golem had just emerged. Seeing it up close, Fist could tell that it was the same size as the rock golem, only the carving of it had been far more detailed. It’s color was the same uniform brown throughout, but its body had been shaped into the image of the Dark Prophet. He recognized it from tapestries he had seen at the Mage School. That same proud jaw and commanding brow, down to the robes it wore.
Its gaze was fixed on the ledge where Locksher and Maryanne stood. It moved towards them, shoving aside any ogres or infested in its way. Several of the clubbers, including Crag himself rushed over and began bashing at its legs. The clubs hit with meaty slaps, but the only damage done was small dents that rapidly repaired themselves.
Fist realized that this golem required a different technique than the other. “Qenzic and Lyramoor! I think that one’s going for Locksher. Cut pieces out of it. See if you can disable its legs.”
The two swordsmen nodded and ran for the golem.
“Rufus,” he said. “Go to the ledge. If it can’t be stopped, carry Locksher and Maryanne to safety.”
“Ooh!” Okay! Rufus replied and ran for the cliff face.
Fist removed his shield from his back and grabbed his mace, then moved in to help against the rock golem. The two giants were barely holding their own.
The netherhulk growled as he put all of his strength into holding the thing back. Charz had given up on retrieving his trident and continued to throw punches. Every blow chipped away at the golem’s face, but the rock-like skin on the giant’s hands was cracked and bleeding.
Fist rushed in, knowing that the source of the golem’s power was likely somewhere in its chest or torso, but also knowing that the most dangerous thing about it was its mobility. He swung low with the bashing side of his mace, going for its knee.
The mace struck with a loud ping, chipping chunks of rock away from the joint. Something seemed to change within the golem and it acted out in rage.
Its arms still pinned, it lifted its leg and kicked out. Fist moved his shield into place just in time to catch the blow, but the force of it still sent the ogre sprawling.
It ignored another heavy punch by Charz and lifted its leg again, stomping down. It’s heavy foot crushed into Mog’s foot, shattering his toes and causing the netherhulk’s grasp to weaken. The golem then jerked its arms down, dislocating one of Mog’s shoulders and swung around, throwing the netherhulk to the ground.
Squirrel leapt atop a pile of goblinoid corpses and took a brief moment to rest. Fighting was hard work. He pulled a seed from within his cheek pouch and began to shell it while he watched Qenzic and Lyramoor fight the clay golem.
The two agile swordsmen were doing a good bit of damage with their swords, carving off chunks of soft clay with precise strikes, yet Squirrel wasn’t sure exactly how much they had hurt it. Pieces of the golem littered the slope around it, but it seemed more irritated than worried. As it stepped on the pieces that had been cut from its body they were absorbed back into its flesh. Its real goal seemed to be reaching the cliff face below the place where Locksher and Maryanne stood. It swung its fists at its attackers more to keep them at a distance than to do any real damage.
Squirrel wondered how much a blow from this thing would hurt anyway. It seemed to have such tender flesh without any real bone to back it up. He received the answer to that question a moment later when Fist’s father Crag came in too close with an emboldened attempt to bash in one of its legs.
The golem twisted and caught the ogre with the full force of an uppercut. There was a meaty thud and the ogre chieftain was sent flying. Squirrel watched in awe as Crag soared up over the little beast’s head and crashed into one of the defensive walls before collapsing senselessly.
The clay golem stomped closer to the cliff and the two Academy swordsmen worked more quickly. They fought in concert, focusing on the same leg joint. Each one would dart in to slice when the way seemed clear and leap back when the Golem attacked.
It was working. Bigger and bigger chunks were cut away until, with a mighty cry, Qenzic’s sabre cut through. The golem swung off balance, but refused to fall. It attempted to place its stump back on the lower part of its leg that the swordsman had cut free, but Qenzic grasped the severed piece and dragged it away.
Its face contorting in a silent roar, it began to shrink slightly as it attempted to regrow its leg.
“Ooh! You!” cried Rufus. The rogue horse had climbed up to the ledge next to Locksher and had a large rock in his hand. He threw at the golem’s remaining leg.
The rock slammed into the golem’s thigh with a splat. The golem teetered onto its not yet fully-formed replacement leg and fell to the ground.
Qenzic and Lyramoor pounced, cutting on the fallen monster, trying to get at the core of magic that held it together. Qenzic focused on the head, hewing into it with great swipes of his father’s magical sabre. Lyramoor stabbed into the golem’s chest repeatedly with his twin falchions.
The golem squirmed, trying to reform its limbs so that it could stand again.
Lyramoor, thinking he had felt something hard deep within its chest, let out a cry and thrust in deeply with his right sword. Again there was something hard that his sword had just barely glanced off of. The elf warrior withdrew his sword to thrust again just as the golem’s hand clenched closed around his leg.
Lyramoor cried out and tried to hack at the hand gripping him, but the golem changed its tactics. Instead of trying to regain its former shape, it pulled the elf in and began forming its bulk around him, trying to encase him.
Qenzic grabbed his friend’s arm and tried to cut him free. He peeled back long slices of clay, but they just kept forming back together. Lyramoor was pulled further inside. The clay golem swung a half-formed arm, batting Qenzic away, and began to roll its large body back towards the pass.
Squirrel shook his little head. His new ability to shock was going to be of no help here. He looked for another target and saw that a few infested were still stumbling free from the ogre clubbers. Pulling more of Fist’s magic from the bond he skittered towards one of them and jumped onto its torso.
Zap!
The rock golem raised its arms into the air and opened the jagged remains of its mouth in a silent roar of challenge, Charz’ trident still protruding from its torso impotently.
Charz lay on the ground several yards away, having been temporarily knocked unconscious. His jaw and nose were broken, his body covered in slowly healing cracks. Mog was a short distance behind the golem on his hands and knees as he spat out another tooth. The golem’s fist still sizzled where his saliva was eating into it.
Fist winced as he sat up, once again thankful for the skilled workmanship of Bettie who had made his shield for him. The stout piece of iron-reinforced wood had absorbed three tremendous blows from the golem without a splinter.
