Dungeon Master 4 Read online

  Before me, Atma’s expression cleared and was replaced with the savage look he wore before we had spoken. We stepped around each other like predatory animals, and then Atma moved forward and brought the maces up together in unison. I dodged, the metal heads clanged together inches from my face, and I brought the spine down like a whip before he retracted his arm.

  The bone lashed his arm, and as I ripped it back, the spines on the vertebra shredded the skin and veins underneath like weathered parchment. He didn’t make a sound as he dodged my strike and moved away. Then he tested his hurt arm by quickly forming a fist around the hilt of his mace and saw that his grip was now too weak to wield a weapon.

  While I respected my opponent, I would show him no mercy, so I pressed my advantage. In one swift movement, I lashed out with the spine again, but he spun away, his hands moving deftly as he screwed the ends of each mace together to create something like a giant metal bo staff. He twisted it around with his good arm while he held out the injured arm beside him for support. With a renewed battle cry, Atma spun himself and whipped the staff around. The metal was a blur through the air, but I could see it clearly as he gripped the metal staff between the two rounded heads and jabbed out towards my head.

  I instinctively ducked and could hear the metal ring as it passed over my ear, then he pulled it back and slammed forward in another onslaught. This time, the metal of the mace made contact and clashed against the breastplate of my armor. I could feel the impact vibrate all the way up to my throat, but there was no damage, not even on the outer shell of my armor. Atma pushed forward with gritted teeth and whipped the combined maces overhead one-handed. Then he lifted his injured arm up to help grasp the metal rod but it faltered in the air, and he hissed through pursed lips in pain.

  I took this opportunity and lashed the ribbed spine forward and caught his injured arm once more, this time higher up, under the meaty bicep. Blood spurted out as the thick muscle ripped away and hung from the bone. He screamed, and the maces fell from his hand as he wavered on his feet clumsily. His uninjured hand tentatively moved over the exposed and dangling muscle, and he gulped for breath and fell to his knees as I walked around him.

  I took the spine in my hands and moved my eyes over it, then adjusted my grip with confidence. Such a brave fighter, and yet, he would be killed like all the others who had challenged me. He watched me as I circled him purposefully and even then, there was no sign of fear in his hazel eyes. I stopped behind him and examined the back of his head and the mangy hair there. He didn’t turn to look at me, only accepted this was the end. My eyes moved to watch as Annalise cleanly sliced a man across the belly and his ropey intestines spilled out onto the floor.

  As my gaze drifted back to the fallen warrior before me, I wondered what Atma was thinking of. Was he thinking of his wife and child? I had the urge to ask but thought it would be inappropriate to tear a man away from the last thoughts he’d have in a conscious body. Swiftly, I pulled my arm back that brandished the spine and forced it forward. There was a loud crack as the pointed tip of the tailbone entered the back of his skull, passed through his brain, and exited through his forehead. No sound came from Atma besides the trickle of blood and the low exhale of his last dying breath. The spine I held cracked and splintered, leaving me with a small portion of the vertebra as Atma’s body wilted to the ground in a pile of musty rags and lifeless limbs.

  I waved my hand over his form, and it slowly dissipated into nothing. He would make an excellent shadow slave. He may have been my enemy in life, but he would be my slave in death.

  I turned to face the other three who had watched my battle with Atma, and when my eyes connected with theirs, they dropped their weapons and held up their hands in defeat. Atma was brave up until the end, but his comrades were cowards, and they would die like cowards. My hand dropped the portion of vertebra to the floor with a clatter, and then I held my arms out to my sides. Swirling portals of gray smoke emerged from the floor, and slowly, emaciated spindly arms reached out of the portals. The three men’s eyes widened in fear as my sickly ice demons made their presence known. Two were sufficient enough for three unarmed men, and as I watched, the massive creatures lumbered closer, their skin stretching and pulling taut against their ribs. Their jaws dropped open, and roars rumbled up their throats. I didn’t need to watch but did so anyway as the creature’s pale blue eyes scanned over the three men.

  The one on the left reached out a massive long-fingered hand and snatched up one of the men. It scrutinized him as if it had never seen a human before, but then the ice demon grabbed the man’s arm between forefinger and thumb and pulled on it to test its strength. The second ice demon followed suit, grabbed up one of the men, and tugged on his left leg. Both men in the clutches of my ice demons shrieked in agony, and the first ice demon’s eyes widened in pleasure, enjoying the sounds of pain. With two fingers, the ice demon twisted off the man’s arm and dropped it to the floor like the pulled off petals of a flower. A sound grumbled up the ice demon’s throat, and I recognized it as he pulled off the man’s right leg with glee: the ice demon was giggling.

  Soon, both ice demons were laughing together as if sharing some secret joke. The sound itself should have been frightening enough. The only sounds I’d heard ice demons make previously were low grunting or snorts, but the laughter that erupted from their thin lips was squeaky and high-pitched. I watched with interest as the ice demons pulled the two men apart piece by piece, and the third man pressed himself against the wall to try to make himself appear smaller. The first ice demon finished tearing his victim apart and dropped the bloody bits to the floor. Then its icy blue eyes settled on the last standing man, and it grunted and reached for him.

  The last man scuttled away sideways, but as soon as he did, the other ice demon reached out for him, too. The ice demon on the left slapped the other’s hand away, and the creature screeched loudly in protest. They communicated in various shrieks and grunts, their mannerisms upset as they fought over the last remaining man. Suddenly, the man bolted forward between the ice demons, but his short legs didn’t carry him far enough or fast enough.

  The ice demon on the left hand grabbed the top half of him and pinned his arms to his side, and the one on the right clutched him below the waist in a tight fist. The demons started screaming at each other, pulling their arms back and forth, fighting over the last remaining human. The man’s screams and cries were muffled by the ice demon’s spindly fingers, then there was a horrible tearing sound, and the demon’s tightly clenched fists separated. They looked confused for a second, their pale blue eyes staring down at their fists, then the first opened its fingers and spied the torn half of the man he held. The ice demon on the left cooed sadly and lifted the ripped body into the air and inspected it intently as blood dripped into its palm. It shook its head, dropped the body, and turned towards me for further instructions. I whipped my head towards the last remaining men Annalise was fighting off, and it loped forward eagerly while the other followed hot on its heels.

  I turned and saw the swordswoman was fighting off the leader of the group as the ice demons distracted the last three enemies. I crossed the marble floor quickly as Bloodscale and the leader’s sword came together in a loud crash of metal against metal. I wasn’t quick enough as the leader kicked out at Annalise, his heavy boot landing directly in the middle of her breastplate. Bloodscale flew from her hand and skittered across the floor, and Annalise’s face fell as she realized she had lost her weapon, her other sword buried in a dead man’s chest to the left of her.

  The leader barked a mocking laugh and sliced out at her, and Annalise brought her arm up and winced as the metal of his sword bit into her forearm. Blood coursed out of the wound and stained the pristine tunic she wore. I growled under my breath and knew I would have to correct her actions later. She knew better, she was a better fighter than this, but she was still disappointing me. The leader didn’t hear me as I came up behind him. He thought he had won, but he would soon
find out how wrong he really was. I breathed in deeply from behind him as he raised his sword to lay the killing blow against the high queen. My eyes blazed red as his form was lifted up from the floor, and his eyes rolled back in his head and exposed the whites to Annalise.

  She saw me then, and her frightened expression cleared. I would always swoop in to save my minions. No harm or pain would come to them unless lain by my own hand.

  “Master,” she whispered as she bowed her head to me, ashamed. She knew I was disappointed, and she couldn’t look me in the face as the man above us began to shudder. Choked off sounds tumbled from his mouth as he struggled to form words. Then the leader’s head fell back against his shoulder, and I clenched my fist. An unseen screaming gale rushed past us as his soul was sucked out of his body and carried away. With a wave of my hand, his body soared through the air and slammed into the far wall, then crumpled to the floor limply.

  The heels of my boots clicked against the marble as I advanced on Annalise, and when I stood before her, she still refused to look directly at me. I bent down before her and lifted her chin, scrutinizing her face. Her arm was bleeding, but she held it tightly to cut off the circulation.

  “I’m sorry,” the swordswoman whimpered, and I tilted my head at her as I squinted my eyes at her solemn face,

  “Why are you sorry, Annalise?”

  “I was careless,” she said as she lifted her face to mine, and our eyes connected finally.

  “Yes, you were careless.” I nodded and glanced at the dead bodies strewn about before I looked back at her. “But you did exceptionally well taking on nine men at once. I’m proud of you, though you still need practice.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered under her breath, and I straightened and offered her a calloused hand. She took it, and I helped her to her feet.

  Just then, the door to the throne room opened behind us, and Carmedy skipped nonchalantly in with her midnight black tail twitching behind her. She stopped abruptly, and her emerald eyes went wide as she noticed the carnage. Then her eyes landed on Annalise and me, then Annalise’s bleeding arm. She gasped loudly and raced over, huffing for breath. Surprisingly, she forcefully grabbed Annalise from me and practically cradled the taller woman.

  “Oh no, oh no, Annalise, what happened?” Carmedy questioned in a panicked voice.

  “I’m fine, it’s just a cut,” Annalise assured as she stifled a laugh, but Carmedy shook her head vehemently,

  “No, no, no!” Carmedy shouted as she pushed Annalise towards the door. “I need to fix you up right away! Come on, if I don’t stitch you up properly, you’ll have a nasty scar!”

  “Fine,” Annalise groaned as she looked over her shoulder at me as Carmedy hauled her away. “You can train me later, I guess.”

  “Uh, excuse me? No! You won’t be training until you heal up, crazy woman! Humans, I swear!” Carmedy yelled to no one in particular as she threw up her free hand in exasperation. The feline alchemist pushed Annalise out the huge doors and around the corner.

  I shook my head, chuckled softly and followed after, hoping to soften the blow of Carmedy’s oncoming scolding.

  Chapter Two

  “This,” Carmedy said brightly as she rummaged through her bag, and the sound of bottles clinking against each other reached my ears, “is turmeric.” She proudly brought the small container in front of my eyes, and I examined the finely ground orange powder as it shifted from side to side.

  We sat at a small table in the grand Tamarisch kitchen, the swordswoman between Carmedy and I. The alchemist had quickly sewn up Annalise’s wound with a curved needle and fine thread, and now she was laying out ingredients for a salve. The cat-girl handed me a small wooden bowl and a thin brush.

  “What should I do with these?” I stared down at them confused and glanced back up at her, unsure what she wanted me to do with these items.

  “First, you pour in the turmeric,” she murmured as she dug through her bag again, and then she lifted her face to mine and nodded for me to do as I was told.

  I chuckled softly to myself, opened the lid, and poured a generous amount into the wooden bowl.

  “Turmeric is a natural antiseptic,” the feline continued. “It’s been used for thousands of years because of its antibiotic properties. The curcumin in the turmeric boosts the healing process by creating new colloge--, shoot, calla--, dangit, it creates new skin, okay? Next, we’ll need honey. Honey dehydrates bacteria and keeps infections at bay! Woohoo, go, honey!”

  Carmedy giggled as she pulled out a second jar. Then she slammed it down on the wooden table in front of me with enough force to rattle all the other objects on the surface. The sticky liquid jiggled but stayed in place as I lifted the small jar. The crockery was long and thin, and within the glass, attached to the lid, was a carved wood honey dipper.

  I unscrewed the cap, swirled the spoon around to collect enough honey, and quickly pulled it out. The honey dripped slowly, and I held it over the bowl of the orange powder as it slipped from the spoon. The honey collected in the bowl and rolled off the powder to pool at the bowl’s sides, and orange flecks stained the golden liquid's surface. The sweet honey smell tickled my nose pleasantly. I didn’t remember honey smelling this good before I was trapped in my dungeon, but experiencing everyday things now was a treat I treasured. Even the spicy, pungent scent of the turmeric and the grain of the wooden bowl that rested softly in my hands gave me a sense of pleasure. I smiled to myself, and Annalise glanced at me and returned the smile. Then her warm slender hand found mine and held it tightly.

  “What’s next, Carmedy?” I inquired as I gave my swordswoman’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Oh yes! Next is ground garlic, water, and a sprinkle of flour!” the alchemist cried out happily. She was in her element here, and it was amusing to watch her pull other ingredients from the bag, her black paws a flurry as she sprinkled in a small handful of white powder which I assumed was the flour. She retrieved a small stone mortar and pestle from the woven bag, then pulled a drawstring burlap bag out also. She untied the top, pulled out a half shriveled and dried garlic clove, and dropped it into the mortar. She worked feverishly, mashing the garlic into fine dust, and I could imagine her working in a laboratory, thick-rimmed goggles over her eyes and the same elated smile on her lips.

  Once she finished, she poured the crushed garlic in, reached across the table for the pitcher of water, and tipped a small amount in. With a broad smile, she gestured for me to whip the ingredients together with the brush, and I followed her instructions. Soon, the mixture was uniform and one color, the consistency sticky but thick when I lifted the brush from the bowl.

  Carmedy nodded fervently and reached for the bowl, but I playfully pulled away from her, and she giggled loudly.

  “Fine, meaniehead, use the brush to spread the salve over the stitches and the wound. Make sure its thick but not super thick, okay? It’ll dry and be flexible enough for her to move, but after a few days, it’ll crack and fall off once the wound starts to close. Then we can remove the stitches!”

  I did as the cat-woman told, dolloping a good amount on the brush and spreading it over the stitches in Annalise’s forearm. She hissed through her teeth in pain but kept her face smooth and calm as her deep brown eyes followed the movement of the brush.

  Just as I finished, the kitchen’s mahogany door crashed open, and Rana waltzed in with Kalon, Annalise’s trainer from adolescence and one of the very few men who believed in the high queen’s potential. A few seconds later, Morrigan, who surprisingly was without her two ravens perched on her thin shoulders, followed after.

  Carmedy jumped at the noise and twitched her tail anxiously, but it slowed and curled up over her shoulder at the familiar presences of the fox-woman and elf. The cat-girl gave them a wide smile, and her emerald eyes sparkled as she wafted her paw over Annalise’s outstretched arm to speed up the drying process.

  “What are you guys up to?” Carmedy asked as her black, pointed ears shifted.

>   Rana sighed loudly, crossed her arms, and leaned against the counter.

  “Coming up with the next plan of action,” the fox-woman said proudly as she ran a paw through her fiery red curls, and Kalon nodded from behind her.

  “To Tintagal, right?” Carmedy asked as she began to clear the table of her ingredients. When she finished, she fished an empty glass vial from her bag and scraped the mixture we had made into it.

  Annalise watched her silently, and her dark brown eyes followed the confident flow of Carmedy’s black paws. I knew my high queen was uncomfortable thinking or even speaking about Tintagal, the land owned by the man she had narrowly escaped from being forced to marry before she ran away. She fidgeted with her hands as she drew them into her lap, and I placed a large hand over them to steady her.

  “What’s Tintagal like, Annalise?” Rana questioned as she grabbed a ruby-red apple from a basket on the counter and bit into it. “Have you been there before?”

  “Only a few times, once or twice after my debut,” the swordswoman said as she ran a finger over the dried salve on her arm.

  “Debut?” Carmedy inquired as she tilted her head and scratched behind an ear. “What’s a debut?”

  Morrigan was the one to speak first, and all attention turned to the tall, pale woman. “A debut is when a young woman comes of marrying age and is brought out into society in search of suitable mates.” Rana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Annalise’s eyes narrowed at Morrigan in confusion, but the mage’s face remained impassive and bored. “High Elves have a similar ceremony, to keep the bloodlines pure.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that. Sounds like just a big excuse to show off money and power.” Rana rolled her sparkling blue eyes up to the ceiling in annoyance.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” Annalise confirmed, “something to show off their wealth.”

  “Rich people, I swear,” Rana muttered, and Carmedy giggled softly from the table, folded her paws, and placed them on the tabletop.