EdgarFig
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38. Treasure in the Foothills
🕑 Added 2024-08-05 21:02:54 +0000 UTCPerched atop the western mountains, the stone facade of a temple lined the cliff face, its columns and roof cut straight from the rock it was built into. A platform sat at its mouth with several stone pillars arranged in a circle, and two paths cut through the stone leading up to the stone walls that surrounded it.
For centuries the temple had been the Wamandy Clan’s seat of power. The treacherous paths leading up to the stone temple, built into the cliff itself, were near impenetrable, providing the few hundred clan members that called it home the strength to defend against much superior foes.
Inside, light pierced into the grand chamber at the temple's heart through cuts in the earth made at angles. Through those angled holes light traveled down, reaching its destination below by the precise placement of mirrors.
Basked in the warm, glittery light, a throne sat at the chambers far end, and before it a bear fur at least four times the size of the greatest grizzlies covered the cold stone tiles. On the fur several toddlers played with a gentle-faced, white-haired, and beautiful woman; whose soft, unblemished skin spoke of youth.
Echoing taps of footsteps sounded through the grand hall and her head rose toward the figure marching toward them.
He's back already.
“News from the Daggers, Warmaster?” She asked and straightened as he neared.
“Yes, Body of the Goddess,” the gnarly man in thick furs with a double-axe over his back said, bowing to one knee. “The wargs gather their numbers. More than even we predicted. They bide their time, waiting for winter. But they are ready. Soon they will be here and they will spread across the lands unopposed. We have seen the strength of all those in concern. None of the clans can resist this force.”
“And what of us here in the west?”
“There is a group gathering. They make crude siege equipment and position themselves to head toward us. But they wait for their brethren. The intent is to overwhelm all that could oppose them at once.”
“Can we defend against them?”
“With your powers, I believe we can.”
Yelinda sighed and a gust of wind blew through the chamber, raising her up to her feet. “Even I have limits, Warmaster.”
“The enemy will be forced to take the narrow paths through the mountains up to us. I believe your gift from the Wind-Goddess will prove deadly to our enemy in these conditions. And my champions will fight fiercely to keep the enemy rooted.”
“And what of the people outside of our domain?”
“There is no helping them, Body of the Goddess. My spies have seen the armies of the warg. They do not rush. Do not act foolishly, tempting fate. They are not willing to risk failure after all their efforts. I doubt even the great Imperium with all its wealth can defeat them now, at least not here in this frozen land. I fear the warbands of men stand no chance against them in pitched battle at this point. To attempt such a thing would be akin to suicide.”
“I understand. But if we hide away here, what’s stopping them from building a new army and more siege weapons if you destroy their first efforts? Will they not keep coming until they wear us down and finally conquer us?”
“That is a problem we’ll have to worry about when it arises. With time, we can look for opportunity.”
“Perhaps, but I fear our plans only prolong the inevitable. If mankind is to withstand this threat, then it needs to find a way to come together and challenge it as one.”
“But Body of the–”
“Enough. I know what you have to say, Warmaster. But I haven’t been given the Goddess’s gift just to see it wasted hiding away in our mountains. Send your best out across the land. Find worthy allies and propose to them our friendship. Perhaps it will be in vain. But we must at least try. To not do so would be to betray our young. Understood?”
The bulky man nodded, “Yes, Body of the Goddess”
**Imperator**
Pushing on through the foothills, the party spotted the gunmetal construct they were in search of nestled amongst blanketing vegetation and snow in the waning hours of the day.
The crimson light that spread across the ground, reflecting off the snow made for a picturesque scene, betraying the land’s danger.
“Our goal is in sight. Press on, acolytes,” Mark commanded.
Taking hold of a spare rope, he helped the two boys pull the disobedient horses onward.
Descriptions of what exactly a throne ship was were vague in the notes left behind by Atlas, and Mark couldn’t ask questions about things he was supposed to know the answers to, thus creating a nervous energy in him as they neared the area where he expected it to be.
Since it was called a ship, he believed it was some kind of vehicle. He prayed that if it was a vehicle they would be able to return home in it. Otherwise, they would have to make a hurried escape back across the foothills as night fell. And not only would that be exhausting, but they wouldn’t be able to spot the dangerous clouds of toxins if they drifted into their path.
Pulling the wagon down into a gully, the horses reared and mud slid under the wheels.
Furious cursing erupted among the three as they pulled and heaved up the adjoining bank and into a level patch of earth.
“We’re almost there. Let’s put our back into it,” Mark panted, but the exhausted boys didn’t need any motivation. The fear of death drove their weary bodies on.
Pushing through the shrubbery, they came face-to-face with the metal carapace of the ship. Plates of steel were layered atop the vehicle, giving it a an almost natural appearance, as if it moved like a living creature. Even the rounded ship’s cockpit looked like the head of an insect, with antennae extending back from its roof. And dozens of pointed, metal legs lined its undercarriage.
“I’ve never seen one so close,” Callum muttered as they neared the strange vehicle.
So, this is the fabled throne ship. It’s more amazing than I had expected. The work that went into this thing... the detail is exquisite . It's as if a Swiss watchmaker took to building a magical ship.
“Behind me,” Mark raised a hand and carefully treaded forward, his obedient acolytes a step behind.
Taking a step closer, Mark felt a softness beneath his foot and a click sounded.
What?
He looked down with a curled brow, and as he raised his foot the ground decompressed.
“Imperator!” Radic shouted at his back, stumbling toward him as he pointed toward their rear.
Mark swung around to see a toxic cloud of purple diffusing through the surrounding trees. He swirled around, but their escape was cut off, and thorny rows of bush filled the undergrowth of the surrounding trees.
“Acolytes, to me,” Mark shouted, hastily rummaging through his pack. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but they had little choice.
Finding the three respirators, he handed one to each of the boys and instructed them to watch as he pulled his own on.
“Do as I do. And be quick.”
Whatever curiosity they might have felt toward the strange actions of their Imperator quickly dissipated in the face of their impending doom, and they followed the orders without a word, pulling the makeshift masks over their faces.
“Okay, with me,” Mark waved and continued toward the ship.
The masks might save them for a short period of time, but Mark knew better than to rely on them. There was one chance remaining, boarding the ship and hoping it still functioned.
Reaching the ship's side, Mark wasn’t sure what he was even supposed to do, but as he stepped closer, the mage heart in his suit began to hum.
He could see the toxins filling their air around them. And he knew that it might already be too late. Atlas hadn’t died immediately. He had weeks, maybe even months between inhaling the toxin and his death. And he assumed based on his vague visions of the man’s life that he had consumed very little of the poison.
Raising a hand up against the ship, lights glowed into action across its side and a gentle hum of energy emanated from the vessel.
“Imperator, it’s all around us,” Radic said, his voice rising into a shaky panic.
Mark raised a silencing hand, not sure how to comfort the boy. He had no idea what was going to happen next. And could only hope.
A ding chimed and the glowing lights across the ship brightened. Mark’s eyes widened as the back panel ground open, revealing the dark, partially lit interior.
“Come on, inside,” Mark waved, following the two boys into the ship as they boarded.
The moment he entered, lights glowed to life. The ship was like a galleon that had flown out from the future—a perplexing blend of modern and fantasy interwoven.
“What about the horses and the caravan?” Callum turned, pointing out their wagon that had already been enveloped by the toxins.
“It’s too late. Forget about the wagon,” Mark replied, trying to figure out how to close the door. Come on, how the hell do you work? Just close damn it.
Mark waved his arms around and banged against the wall beside the door. Come on, think damn it!
He could see the clouds thickening outside, and with them, their chances growing thinner.
Mark's brow perked as he spotted glowing yellow button beside the door that he had somehow missed in his panic. Without a second to spare, he lunged for the button, slapping down on it.
Metal ground against metal, and the door pulled shut with a plume of toxins blowing into the ship, but a second later, the ship hummed to life and the sound of exhaust fans filled the air.
His eyes widened as he watched the visibly detectable gas drain from the ship.
“Do you think these things worked?” Radic said, inspecting his mask with trembling fingers.
“Keep it on,” Mark said, passing the boy. It was a question he wanted answered just as much as anybody else, but for now, he had to get them out of here.
The metal door into the cockpit slid open as he approached, and behind it was a pilot's chair that resembled a motorbike.
Okay… was not expecting that.
Mark stepped toward it and lowered himself atop the strange seat. Cables and tubes lined the walls and dozens of curved, CRT-like screens were spread in front of him.
As he touched down on the seat, his suit’s mage heart thumped again, and he could feel the ship coming to life. The cables rose on their own, and nestled into his suit, connecting him to the ship.
It was as if they had become one. And the fears that he wouldn’t have a chance of piloting this alien ship quickly dissipated. It was as if it were an extension of his own body. And with a thought, he willed the dragonfly-like wings on the back of its carapace-like to life.
Next, the screens flickered to life and Mark could see all of his surroundings, including the gasses that retreated as the wings created a gust of air blowing outward.
Okay, let’s see what this thing can do.
“Acolytes, grab hold of something. And take a seat if you can.”
He could hear the two boys shuffling around and gave them a second before dipping his hands into the two arm-sized slots on either side of him. The moment he did, a tickling sensation danced across his hands and his control over the ship pulsed with increased command.
Okay, I guess I find out what it’s like to be a pilot now.
Mentally pulling back on the ship’s controls, he lifted it into the air with an angry buzz of the ship’s wings. And to his continued surprise, it felt natural.
Several yards were gained in seconds, and within a minute he had pulled it up into the clouds above, sending the foothills shrinking beneath them.
Now this is seriously fucking cool!
He pushed forward, and the ship obeyed his command, dipping slightly as it flew through the air pockets and clouds, and shaking the ship as he passed through them.
But there was something else that sparked his curiosity, and Mark imagined shooting out a bolt of energy as he did with his suit.
From an antennae under the ship, a bolt of lightning thundered out, slamming against the forest below with a rain of sparks and a booming roar that burst through its surroundings and left several small fires burning in its wake.
That… that had to be at least three or four times the size of my suit’s attack. Yeah, that’s freaking cool.
A sense of weightlessness filled the ship as it suffered a sudden drop in altitude, recovering with a jolt. He heard the boys scream at his back, but Mark could sense what had happened. It was the lightning bolt. It had drained too much of the ship's energy.
Okay, I better be careful with that.
Cautiously exhaling, he turned the ship, aiming it back toward Fort Winterclaw. He could sense the ships mage heart and the energy it held, realizing that there was a complexity to his new treasure. It had limits. And even the trip back to the fort would likely require a stop if he hoped not to crash.
However, none of that mattered at this time. A smile curled across Mark's face. They had done it. Retrieved the weapon that Atlas had failed to.
They had a real chance now.
Comments
Rodmin
Awesome!
Edgar Fig
Btw, I think I need to go back and make a change. Mark threw together some basic masks for the three of them. Not just himself.
