Chapter 33
The palace before them was vast and rose up and up and up, tier upon tier, balconies amidst towers, arcades and archways, a great ornate confection of architecture that appeared slate blue within the aura of blue flames that consumed it.
The sapphire glow rose up to paint the underside of the distant roof in rippling hues, and equally large stalactites of groined stone descended like fangs from above, so that the palace seemed to contest the very cavern for space to breathe.
Around them the distance faded into an azure haze, though Harald felt themselves ultimately constrained—this was no artificial landscape, but a great goblet cavern in whose center the burning blue palace dominated.
The strangest thing was that the windows, the archways, the portals and doors all smoldered with that inner blue light so that it seemed as if the palace were a dark shell built around an inner effulgence.
A constant breeze blew from the towering edifice, causing the cloaks and hair of his companions to undulate and blow back without surcease.
“Pretty,” said Nessa, blade by her side. “I’m guessing we’re going inside. Sam, any information about this level?”
“I’m… I’m drawing a blank, I’m sorry.” Sam squared her shoulders. “Nothing comes to mind. A blue burning palace? I’ve got nothing.”
“They’ll be marginally tougher than the lizards we just fought,” said Harald. “But we’re no longer alone. I’ve got a full house of Servitors now. How about I send my Twilight General to scout?”
“Sure,” said Nessa. “There’s no burning need to race inside.”
Harald reached into his Cosmos and summoned his immense warrior. It appeared mid-flight above them, titanic in size and covered in a sheen of pure ebon night, its whole body rippling with blue light that reflected off it in fluid shimmers.
“See what you can find,” Harald called up to the gigantic moth warrior. “Don’t engage. Just… scout.”
The great monster dipped midair, as if acknowledging the command, then flew forth with an almighty droning buzz as its black wings churned the air.
“Remember Wirmas?” asked Vic. “I remember Wirmas. What a guy. Such a pleasure. Wish he were with us now.”
Sam snorted.
Harald watched the Twilight General cross the gulf that surrounded the palace like a moat, then rise in a great circle about the building, disappearing as he rotated around.
Some part of him expected the General to suffer a catastrophic hit while he was out of sight, but no—the gigantic warrior curbed back into view, peering down at the walkways and ornamental towers, keeping a wary distance, to encircle it one more time.
“Looks quiet,” said Sam.
“Maybe they’ve all gone out to lunch?” Vic beamed. “Just our fortune! Has to happen sometime, right?”
Kársek snorted in dour amusement.
The Twilight General came back into view, midway up the huge building, and then broke away to buzz back over.
“Um, Harald?” Vic scratched the back of his head. “Can you understand the big guy? He doesn’t seem to talk.”
“No, he doesn’t.” The General came to a hover and shook his great helmed head, ridged horns sweeping back and forth. “But that seems pretty clear.”
“The level must expect us to enter via the ground floor,” said Nessa. “Cross that chasm somehow, then work our way toward the well, which’ll be in the center or on a higher floor. Do you think your Servitor can carry us?”
“Carry us?” Harald eyed the giant moth warrior. “I… don’t see why not?”
“Then you and Kársek go form a beachhead. Say, two-thirds of the way up. Find a balcony or patio you can defend while it comes back for Sam and me. Vic, you’ll go last so as to spare us for at least a minute or two of your witticisms.”
“I’m wounded,” said Vic, hand to his chest. “My oldest, dearest friend. Could a stab pierce any deeper?”
“My point exactly. Ready?”
Harald mentally commanded the Twilight General to descend.
It alighted to the side of the outcrop and welcomed him and Kársek into its arms without any fuss.
It was most strange. The layered robes were soft, almost dusty to the touch, though they gleamed jet black.
The arms within the sleeves were branch-like, the hands that emerged akin to roots, but it held him and the dwarf to its chest with ease.
Kársek grimaced, clearly unhappy, but made no comment.
Up they flew, a powerful vibration thrumming through the General’s chest, and across the chasm.
Harald eyed the palace. The shimmering azure flames made it hard to fixate on any one particular architectural detail, but a broad balcony large enough for a house suggested itself at about the right height, and the General flew to it when Harald pointed.
Up close, the breeze wafting off the palace was stronger, the scent akin to wet stone, and when they descended into the lofting blue flames, Harald felt a chill instead of heat.
He and Kársek dropped to the huge, slick flagstones, and Harald immediately summoned his other Servitors to aid in their defense.
Shadowpaw slinked away the moment he manifested, clearly annoyed by the leaping luminescence, while the Gauntlet Golem peered around curiously, then rolled its head from one side to the other, causing a series of sharp cracks to sound.
The Rootwarden turned slowly, tower shield raised, but didn’t immediately take root.
But it was the Thunder Lizard that was most impressive.
Its bulk took up half the patio, and for a moment Harald feared the stone would give way beneath its prodigious weight.
The crystals embedded in its back gleamed, huge and chunky, and its tail lashed slowly as it swiveled its massive head to and fro, taking in the environs.
The small eyes were lost in its craggy face, no longer burning crimson but as black as the rest of it.
Some twinge of guilt passed through Harald. Only moments ago he’d drained it of all life and vitality. Now here it was, serving at his pleasure. It felt wrong on some level he couldn’t quite understand—but what was he to do about it?
Fight on, was what.
Kársek settled himself into a stolid stance, rune hammer at the ready. “This doesn’t feel like much of a challenge when you bring along each level’s toughest monster to fight for us.”
Harald eyed him. “That a complaint?”
Kársek shrugged one shoulder. “A little. That ability of yours is near miraculous. I’ve a yearning to test myself against these foes but have found precious little opportunity to do so.”
Harald grinned darkly as he activated Abyssal Imperium, causing void shards to manifest across the breadth of the balcony to move languidly through the burning sapphire flames. “Better we lean on my powers and get through all this alive than risk losing one of our friends.”
“Unless by shielding us from danger, you prevent us from leveling ourselves.” Kársek didn’t sound upset, just matter-of-fact.
“You want me to hold back?”
“Yes. I think so.” Kársek cemented his opinion with a nod. “Vic is but Level 7. Nessa Level 8. You’re Level 9, now?”
Harald nodded.
“Soon, at the rate you grow, you’ll be Level 10.
If we continue to ride your coattails, we’ll delve too deep to handle the monsters ourselves.
At that point, we’ll simply become dead weight.
” Kársek eyed him sidelong. “I would encourage you to let the others do most of the fighting, for now. Keep a weather eye out. Intervene when necessary. But the Throne Hunters are akin to a garden. You must tend to every shoot, every plant, so that the whole grows harmoniously.”
Harald twisted to see the Twilight General winging his way back toward them, Sam and Nessa clasped to his chest. “I hear you. That’s sage advice. I’ll take it.”
And so saying, he dismissed the Thunder Lizard and Rootwarden so that only the Gauntlet Golem stood point before the series of doorways leading deeper into the palace. Shadowpaw would, as always, do his own thing.
The General deposited Sam and Nessa, then flew back for Vic.
“Anything?” asked Sam, voice a little breathless.
Harald shook his head morosely and glanced up to the higher floors. “Nothing yet. They have to know we’re here.”
“So we’ll not be facing a swarm attack,” said Nessa. “Like the moth court from Level 37. Also indicates some measure of intelligence. The lizards from the 38th would have attacked the moment they noticed us.”
“Intelligence, self-control, limited numbers,” said Kársek, tone dour. “It sounds like we’ll be fighting elite foes. Fewer monsters who concentrate more of the level’s powers in their attacks.”
“I don’t like it,” said Sam, burning blade held at the ready. “I feel watched. No demonic presence. But… yeah. Something’s waiting.”
“If they were really smart, they’d be running away,” said Harald.
Nessa snorted.
Vic joined them moments later. “That was lovely!” He bowed to the Twilight General just before Harald dismissed him. “A pity he can’t just carry me all the way to our final destination. Makes walking on one’s own two feet feel positively plebian.”
“It’s a tough life,” muttered Nessa, pressing forward. “Same formation. Harald, can you have your golem bring up the rear?”
“Absolutely,” said Harald, moving to take the left flank.
They approached one of the tall archways, and following Kársek’s advice, Harald drew in his Abyssal Imperium, willing the void shards to fade from sight so that only a light blanketing of oppression lay over the immediate area. No Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant, either, and he kept the Well closed.
Kársek was right. He had to give his friends enough room to catch up before the distance between them became insurmountable—but even as he did so, a twinge of frustration tweaked his emotions. If only they could just keep up of their own accord.
They passed into the palace.
The hallway was broad, the walls luminous and pale blue, shadows almost completely absent. High ceiling, decorative stone trim, and a faint sound akin to the ocean in the distance.
No more talking. They trod carefully, softly, peering ahead and into each narrow tunnel as they passed it.