Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Интерлюдия третья. Новый план Архиврага Героя Королевы Эльфов
Interlude three. The New Plan of the Archenemy of the Hero of the Elven Queen
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"Master, I beg you, we should not linger here! We must leave this place as soon as possible!" the dark elf's voice was full of undisguised fear.
An experienced Dungeon Huntress, Senior of her squad, Nydira was accustomed to most of the dangers of her homeland. She had personally led many risky forays into both the Neutral and Wild Territories. Not all of them had gone smoothly, but Nydira had successfully dealt with all the threats she had encountered. Now, however, the dark elf was frankly frightened, shifting from foot to foot, and continually glancing around the surrounding area with her red eyes. In one hand she clutched her blade, in the other a small battle staff made by the dark elves. Despite its small size, it was packed with powerful battle magic. It wouldn't be enough for a long fight, but in the Underworld there are hardly ever long battles. The battles here are fleeting, and often are over before they even begin.
In contrast to the nervous dark elf, the big and muscular orc was absolutely calm and unperturbed. Bazita was focused, alert and ready to attack or retreat at any moment, covering her Master. Her green skin showed faintly glowing complex magical patterns, especially those that adorned her head and face. She wore no armour, save for a few protective amulets. In her hands she held a two-handed sword made by skilled armourers, with runes engraved on the blade. Not the most appropriate weapon for the Underworld, but that was only at first glance. The world beneath the surface was far from narrow and cramped. There were plenty of places where such weapons could be used. In the last couple of days, it had been used more than once.
Violetta Edelhart's expedition had been moving, by the standards of the Underworld, at a faster pace than ever before, deeper and deeper into the Wild Territories. But not nearly two hundred humans and nonhumans, with wagons and dwarven bulls pulling them, could go straight through. There were roads and paths underground, but most ran through the Neutral Territories, connecting the underground cities. They were rare in the Wild Territories, and were usually in a dilapidated state. It was often necessary to use magic to break or cut their way through, and to use weight-lifting charms regularly to make it possible for the wagons to cross obstacles.
Of course, a large group travelling in this manner attracted the attention of the local inhabitants, especially predators. For the time being, most of them preferred to follow their numerous but dangerous prey from afar, hiding in the shadows or under the masking illusion, patiently waiting for one of the surface dwellers to let his guard down, make a mistake, break away from the general herd even for a moment, and sign his own death warrant.
But, to their disappointment, this didn't happen. The uninvited guests were remarkably united, moved intelligently, and seemed to be constantly on the alert. None of them had ever been alone, careless, or made a single mistake that would have satisfied the predators' hunger for such rare and tasty prey. Several attempts by the most daring and self-confident of the Underworlders to get close to the herd of ground dwellers had ended in their quick deaths, either by blades or magic. All the predators who had ventured too close had somehow been spotted on their approach. Some of them had died inexplicably, simply dying suddenly, having received a single calibrated blow from some unknown source.
The stupid didn't live long in the Underworld, both the intelligent inhabitants and the numerous fauna. Some of them could also be classified as half or fully intelligent creatures. Therefore, most of the predators soon preferred to keep a respectful distance from the pack of ground dwellers. However, some were confident enough to try to force their prey away from the surface herd. But they, too, had paid for it with their lives, just as those relied on stealth.
The first of these predators was a huge Cave Flyer that had built its lair on a canopy under the very ceiling of the underground hall, where there was an anomaly that was quite rare for the Underworld. It was a natural magical source, but it did not originate from the Earth's bowels, but from somewhere on the surface. It was powerful, but absolutely wild and, by the standards of the adepts of classical magic, quite polluted, requiring thorough filtration and purification before it could be used without harm.
The wild beast was unaware of this, which led to the fact that the ordinary inhabitant of the upper tier of the Underworld first grew to a respectable size, then to a huge one, and then could be considered a giant. He was able to dive from ambush, stun his bipedal prey with a scream, then grab it and carry it in his paws to the ceiling. Moreover, it was a technique he had honed quite well over his long life. He had also developed his natural ability to echolocate under the influence of the source magic into a perfectly serviceable attack technique.
Which this time failed the overgrown Flyer at the most unexpected moment. When he had waited until most of the herd had passed, he swooped down sharply, intending to grab the intended prey from among the bipeds in the tail. But just before his scream was about to deafen the prey and its nearest kin, something whistled through the air with impossible speed, striking the flyer in flight. A long, broad-tipped spear, conjured and enchanted, was launched by a mighty green hand, on which intricate magical patterns flashed with golden light as it was thrown. They added power to the already magnificent throw, and the spear flew towards the target like a dwarven siege ballista.
It pierced the raptor's chest and knocked it out of its flight path, dropping it in a shapeless, broken heap on the rocks sticking out of the ground. The expedition didn't even slow down, only the mighty orcish woman paused for a moment to retrieve her weapon and cut one of the claws from the Cave Flyer's wing fold. Though its carcass was a good set of materials for alchemists and not only for them. But none of the members of the expedition paid attention to such a waste. As well as many other things that did not fit not only with the purpose of their enterprise, but also with the most ordinary common sense.
Why have they travelled so far into the Wild Territories? Why do they pass by the real untouched treasures of the Underworld? Why didn't they camp on the banks of an underground river covered with numerous glowing herbs and mushrooms worth a lot of money to alchemists and magic practitioners? Why did they pass by a very mineable deposit of excellent crystals that would be sold in Neirat and beyond? Why didn't they try to hunt down the local inhabitants, especially in those halls where they were abundant and frankly unafraid? There were no answers to these questions, but only because no one asked them. Humans and non-humans were stubbornly moving forward, not even realising where they were going. And why?
The friendly dark elves, who had joined the expedition from nowhere, with the already existing Scavens, made the journey much easier. At some point they were joined by those underground firstborns who had been captured at the very beginning of the expedition. Now they worked on an equal footing with everyone else, and no one paid any attention to it, and did not show any concern about the dark elves in the group. The latter pointed out the best way through the Wild Territories, helped in reconnaissance and warned of dangers. But otherwise they kept themselves apart, communicating off-duty only with the top of the expedition. However, the rest of the expedition had strangely stopped communicating with each other about anything that didn't involve moving forward. Perhaps the exhausting pace of the march was to blame. Or, perhaps, something else. In any case, thanks to the help of the dark elves and skaven, even such a large group was moving at an excellent pace by the standards of the Underworld, overcoming one underground hall after another. Also thanks to the fact that the expedition was perfectly prepared and equipped.
Special narrow carts with large wheels, pulled by dwarven bulls, were carefully charmed to be strong and lightweight, as were the chests they were loaded with. Thanks to this, they could pass where a normal cart would have collapsed or got stuck. Yes, the regular use of weight-reducing charms quickly drained the storage crystals that powered them. But there were no problems with gifted people in the expedition, and there were enough natural sources of magical energy in the Underworld. Of course, it was not safe to use most of them without proper training, but for some reason none of the mages paid attention to that.
Another great help to the expedition was the fact that many of the chests had been charmed, in addition to lightening their weight, so that they could hold many times more than they had to for their size. A very expensive pleasure, which even my Lady Edelhart could not have afforded in such quantity. But fortunately, the representatives of several Trading Houses had been very generous in their contributions to the expedition not only in money, but also in such valuable items.
And thanks to that, the expedition had no problems with supplies, although they had to feed almost two and a half hundred people and non-humans. Some food could be found in the Underworld. Not everything that grew there was poison. In one of the halls he had travelled through, he was lucky enough to find a glade overgrown with excellent forage mushrooms, which were worth a lot of money on the surface and were considered a delicacy. They were also useful to those practitioners of magic who chose to study the bowels of the earth. Especially if cooked properly. And all this wealth was fed without hesitation to the dwarf bulls, who devoured it with great pleasure. During another break we managed to catch a considerable amount of whitish and blind fish that lived in the dark waters of a small lake that occupied a quarter of the underground hall. Several empty chests were filled with them, and afterwards a freezing spell was cast to keep them fresh.
But there were very few stops like that. In general, there were very few stops of any kind. The expedition was in continuous movement, stopping only for necessary rest. And still, even this very fast pace was not enough. Despite his best efforts. Even though all of the puppets had taken a gentle, but still stimulating alchemy from the beginning of the journey, giving them strength and reducing the time they needed to rest. Even though the storage crystals for all sorts of amulets were generously emptied to overcome obstacles like underground rivers and rocks as quickly as possible. It wasn't enough.
Master could feel the noose tightening around his neck. It must be like the way werewolves or the weakest of the higher vampires felt when they were hunted down like wild animals. A very lousy feeling that he didn't like at all. And even more, he didn't like the fact he couldn't think of a reliable way to fix the situation.
There was no chance of leaving Normgrave undetected the way he did. There were too many obvious traces. But it was impossible to stay in the city, because the risk of being discovered was growing every day! As it was, he had left at the very last moment. Still, Master hoped that his machinations with the brains of Duke Darmond's merchants and henchmen would be noticed a little later. At least for a couple of days. A foolish hope, considering how diligently they were looking for him, but there was still a small chance of that. And as soon as his influence on them was discovered, a chase was immediately sent on the expedition's trail. There was no way to hide a crowd like the one he'd gathered in the Underworld, especially from the local inhabitants. But he didn't try to hide or cover his tracks. He relied on speed.
So the pursuers found their trail almost instantly and were following it steadily. It was expected and predictable. So, it was necessary to move to the second part of his plan. Dump the ballast and move on with small forces, taking only the most valuable, mobile, and useful. Well, and Violetta with her offspring, with whom he hadn't even had time to have fun yet. Normally, he should have left them behind, too, but it was a matter of principle. The insolence of the red-haired bitch who had offered him a gilded cage under her heel demanded a worthy reward.
Only it turned out that Master had underestimated the zeal of his pursuers. It was a little flattering to be recognised so explicitly for what he'd done. He had hoped they wouldn't rush after him so quickly in the Underworld, a very dangerous place. Especially for surface dwellers. That it would at least take some time to prepare. But no, he was immediately followed by a horde of hounds, as soon as they realised that the trail in Normgrave was really his. A large troop of fanatical sun-worshippers made up of select Lightbringer Paladins, a few High Priests, and probably some of Reverend Aurora's children as well. Several squads of really skilled and experienced Dungeon Hunters, sent by the various Great Houses of the Dark Elves, reinforced by gifted ones. At least half a company of forest elves, from among the warriors of the Underworld's Forest Guard Corps, along with a coterie of sharp-eared mercenaries from the inferior races. And surely several groups of Secret Guard agents. Even the dark dwarfs had fielded several large detachments of their armoured bearded men, probably reinforced by the most mobile of golems. And to top it off, the pursuers recruited several packs of Scavens, mobilised on a forced-volunteer basis. And those were only the pursuers he'd been able to spot thanks to his mirror, which was carried in a separate cart, surrounded by a triple ring of protective weaves.
And this whole pack of motley but very angry and fast hounds was not just chasing him. They were chasing him, surrounding him from all sides, cutting off the paths not only to his intended goal, but also to escape. Squads of dark elves and dark dwarves were travelling very fast on the native land, and they were moving in his direction from different directions from different cities. Wherever Master went from his current position, he would inevitably come across a cordon. He had learnt all this thanks to his marvellous mirror, which he was ready to pray to under the present circumstances, may the gods or other Great Powers protect his creator, whoever he might be. It had taken away from him more than one or two dozen of searching ‘gazes’, and that was only since the Underworld was in principle very difficult to see and probe anything. If he had been on the surface, even the mirror would not have saved him, as his pursuers had thrown so much effort into searching for him when they had barely smelled a real trail.
In fact, it was the very property of the Underworld that he was counting on to a great extent. He would move with the expedition for a while, then let it go further into the Wild Territories, and leave as a small group. A small group would be much easier to hide. He was sure he would be able to cover his tracks among the many underground halls filled with streams of natural magical energy flowing from the very bowels of the earth. All he needed was a little time, just a little. And looking back, he realised that he had a chance! But it was those damn sun-loving fanatics who played a part! Somehow they knew exactly where he was. Or rather, they knew which way he was, and they knew roughly how far away from them he was. And the closer they got, the clearer they knew.
What kind of search method they were using that even the mirror was mostly powerless against, he couldn't figure out. At least not without the risk of shining even more, which he wasn't about to do. If he'd only been dealing with Sunfaced fanatics, he might have been able to fend off even this targeted search, well, or misdirect it. If only. So many ifs. Now, his situation was becoming more threatening by the hour. The distance between him and his pursuers was shrinking further and further. To their credit, they didn't run headlong, realizing what they were hunting. They must be afraid of an ambush or a trap. So there's still some time left. A few days for sure, depending on where he was headed. And he had to use it to make up his mind.
Leave with only the most valuable and useful puppets, trying to get past the cordons? Put all his efforts into camouflage and diversion? Very risky, one mistake and the whole corralers will come running to the alarm. Especially with those damn sun worshippers. Trying to engage the enemy, using the expedition as cannon fodder? Pointless, even if he had all his old chrysalis, he couldn't fight off that many enemies without a fortified and prepared position. Besides, they wouldn't assault him, and the first thing they would do would be to cut off his escape routes. And then just slowly crush him. And that's if one very much offended celestial decided to incarnate himself in the Underworld.
What do we do? What to do? Master asked himself this question feverishly every free moment, thinking over all possible variants and not finding an answer. He didn't have much free time, he was forced to take stimulating alchemy, which he bought from those who had given him the Greatest Gift. It was good if he could get three or four hours of sleep. Because he had to keep a constant eye on nearly two hundred humans and non-humans. Yes, he had done a good job on them, but to turn such a crowd into a unified and autonomous mechanism... It was a possible task for him now, but it required damned time! So he had to skimp, to use simpler but less reliable methods of controlling the puppets.
And because of that, he had to constantly make sure that they did what they needed to do, and HOW they needed to do it. He managed to do it quite well because there was no need to change the mind of each of them. It was enough just to dampen some parts of it, and strengthen others. With his current powers, it was not a difficult task at all, but it also required time, though less than a full-fledged processing. And he had to keep an eye on his surroundings because the Wild Territories were called Wild Territories for a reason. There were enough dangers here, and in order not to lose the puppets, it was necessary to constantly monitor the local predators, magical anomalies of various sorts, spirits, elementals, and the devils know what. And of course he had to constantly look for possible scouts of his pursuers.
He hadn't spotted the latter, though, which was odd. Master had expected his pursuers to send someone stealthy enough, hoping to get closer to him. Apparently fearing that their scouts would replace the master. Too bad. He could use some more clever puppets who understand stealth. Poor Saya's on her feet most of the time. She was the one who dealt with most of these problems, destroying the creatures Master had spotted with a single precision strike before they could cause problems for the expedition. In special cases, if the creature was too difficult for the slanted assassin, Bazita stepped in. Like, for example, with that spirit of the earth's bowels, which had taken over a whole scattering of stones saturated with magical crystals. It would not be easy for an assassin to get to the heart crystal hidden in the thickness of the stone, which was additionally fortified with magic. But the orc's brute strength multiplied by his gifts proved to be a good argument.
This regime was exhausting, and only the gradually approaching threshold of the next step of elevation brightened up these hardships a little. He was even seriously considering the possibility of accelerating its gaining, to try to improve his situation with the next gift, when the help came when he was not expecting it. During another rest stop, after checking his puppets, when he was just about to get some rest, his long-time sharp-eared puppet approached him. Nydira had been summoned by Master immediately after the failure of the Iyastar operation, but it had taken her and her subordinates a long and arduous journey to the subterranean environs of Normgrave. And when they got there, it took him a while to get the sharp-eared ones back on their feet, because they were exhausted and a couple of them were wounded. At least Nydira hadn't lost anyone along the way. And then, quite unexpectedly, the dark elfess approached him with a proposal to change the planned further route of travelling. To his surprised question ‘why?’, Nydira replied in a quiet voice with noticeable fear:
"The next underground hall is located next to the one where the city of Diyarten used to be, Master. It is better to stay away from those places and go through the neighboring one."
Master knew many things, but it was impossible to know everything. In particular, he was not as skilled in the history of the Underworld and its inhabitants as in the history of the Confederacy or his favourite mentalistics. So he demanded an explanation and listened with considerable interest to a short story about an underground city that had tragically perished overnight many centuries ago. The city itself had survived, except for the parts damaged by a huge crack that had formed right in the middle of the hall where it was located. But its inhabitants were devoured by something that came out of the depths of that crack. After that, it returned to its lair to come out again when the crowds of marauders returned to the devastated city and devour them.
After hearing this story from the visibly nervous Nydira, for whom the Terror of Diyartan was not an empty bogeyman, Master suddenly realised clearly: this was it! His chance for salvation! A general plan of action emerged in his mind, fuelled by special practices, almost instantly. Master immediately gave the order to continue on the same path, and he questioned the pointy-eared puppet in detail about everything she knew about the lost city. To his regret, the dark elf knew a little more than she had already told him, but even that was enough for Master to outline a few more options of how the dead city could be used for his good.
The expedition successfully reached the desired underground hall, which was adjacent to the dead city. There were no problems along the way, except for the ever-approaching pursuit. The underground hall they were looking for was quite large by the standards of the Underworld, with a high ceiling, several streams, abundant vegetation, and numerous traces of intelligent life. Despite all the centuries that had passed, the ruins of dark elves‘ and dwarves’ buildings could still be seen here without much difficulty. As well as remnants of roads and canals for irrigating fields of foraging mushrooms or mohlum. Yes, much was overgrown, much had been destroyed by landslides or floods, some had been broken deliberately.
But it didn't matter to Master, but the huge rubble that blocked the once wide passage leading to the dead city in the neighbouring hall - very much so. The remnants of the underground road rested on huge boulders, which were additionally fused into a single monolithic whole by a combination of geo and pyromancy. And then they sealed them, so that nothing could get through here.
The magical seals had long since decayed, leaving only a faint echo, but the stones had retained their full strength. There was no chance of reaching the dead city through the former passage. Or rather, there was no chance of getting through in the time Master had left. Which meant that another way had to be found. Everything Master knew about the nature of the Underworld, everything his pointy-eared dark-skinned puppets had told him, told him the underground halls could not be destroyed or sealed so easily. It could only be done if the Underworld wanted it. Then, no matter how hard you try, you can't save a doomed place. In this case, Master was somehow sure that this world, which had never known sunlight, had not yet gotten rid of the dead city. Nor was it even thinking about it. The city was still there, behind the thick stone walls. Waiting for its time.
And had waited for a very long time. And from what Master knew, it appeared that such a forcefully sealed room would try to ‘free’ itself. At least, his puppets had given him more than one or two reliable examples of such a thing. And so, after so many centuries, there must be a place, if not a passageway, then a place suitable for breaking through it. There must be! He just has to find it!
And his puppets began to search for him as soon as the expedition reached the group of ruins that adjoined the side wall behind which the dead city was situated. Apparently, in the days of Diyarten, it had been an outpost, a small settlement for slaves working in the fields and their overseers, or something else. There was no way to tell now, nor was there any need to. The main thing was that among these ruins was a source of fresh and relatively clean water by the standards of the Underworld, some fortifications, and even a small, by the standards of the same Underworld, magical source. Even though it had gone quite ‘wild’ over the past centuries.
The local inhabitants, in the form of a large flock of Cave Beaks, were killed quickly and mercilessly. The creatures resembled a horrible hybrid of reptilian predators and the predatory land birds of the savannahs of the southern continent. Master also took part in the beating, directing his dolls and puppets and at the same time blurring the raptors' senses. After that, he immediately started checking on the expedition members who were setting up camp under his supervision. Saya, together with the dark elves, armed themselves with special search amulets, that are used by miners to ‘see’ the thickness of the earth, and went on a reconnaissance, looking for a way to get to Diyarten. The latter were not thrilled with the idea, but puppets don't argue with puppeteers. Bazita, on the other hand, went on a free hunt to exterminate the largest and most dangerous local inhabitants that Master had spotted along the way. She went alone, but she didn't need much help. The mighty Orc, who had gained new powers together with her Master, had turned into a real killing machine. The local predators were fully convinced of that on their skins.
A Burrowing Spider, the size of a large wolf, which had made its lair in a camouflaged crevice among the rocks protruding from the floor of the underground hall, flew out of it as a black, furry arrow as soon as it felt its prey hit one of the signalling threads it had spread around. But only to be disembowelled right as he threw it in one swift blow. Eight huge eyes didn't even notice the blade flickering in the air before haemolymph splattered in all directions.
The frog-like amphibian, which lived in one of the pools of the river that ran through the underground hall, repeated his fate, the only difference being that first it had lost its long and flexible tongue. Its saliva was not only sticky but also poisonous, but at worst it would only weaken Bazita for a while. And that was if it got into the orc's mouth or directly into her bloodstream. Her high Resistance coupled with her even higher Constitution allowed her to ignore most of the relatively common poisons.
A large Cave Crawler was, in theory, a more dangerous opponent for Bazita. The huge snake, which lived in the thickets of the local glowing flora, had no venom. But it had a hypnotic stare, which became more powerful the older the reptile was and the better it fed. This crawler was old and, judging by its size, well fed. In theory, it had a chance to mesmerise Bazita for a while if it managed to take her by surprise. However, the orc was covered by Master, so she simply walked straight out at the old serpent, whose scales blended perfectly with the carpet of faintly glowing moss. It met her with a hypnotic stare, but never realised that its main weapon had been completely ignored by its victim. With a stroke of her two-handed sword, the head of the snake, with its eyes still glowing, flew aside. Then, it was the turn of a small pack of Rock Moles....
The destruction of most of the local fauna continued for quite some time. As a result, there was no one left in the large underground hall more dangerous than a common ceiling flyer. Bazita returned to the camp that had already been set up, tired, covered in blood splatters of different colours, and in a bad mood. The relatively long period of idleness, during which there had been no work for her, had taken its toll. Immediately she went to the tent of her master, threw off her few clothes, special underground boots, and began to wash herself in a wide basin prepared for her. She did not pay the slightest attention to the people in the tent, concentrating on cleaning off the dried blood.
Meanwhile, Saya, who had returned a few moments earlier, paused for a few moments, her slanted eyes lingering on her mate's muscular green body covered in blood splatter. Especially her big tits with dark green nipples. Listening to her report, Master mentally chuckled at that moment. The Greatest Power that had been given to him he had partially shared with his dolls. There were so many options for what he could give them. And not all of the gifts were related to the combat part. Some of the gifts he offered could be attributed to his favourite mentalism. Saya had a lot of knowledge of how to influence the mind and feelings of her victims. But Bazita was a bit worse at it, she was almost purely a fighting doll. Now that was partially corrected.
And judging by Saya's reaction, their long-standing confrontation with the orc woman will not be as one-sided as before. True, they must survive first to see that happen. Having pulled himself together, Master briefly ordered:
"Continue."
Saya flinched briefly, stopped staring at Bazita's tits, and continued her report. At the end of which Master was quite satisfied. His puppets looked all around the side wall of the hall, behind which was the dead city, and found the place he needed. A small section of the wall was no different from the others, but behind it, with the help of special amulets designed to “probe” the earth's bowels, a void was found in relative proximity. There was no direct passage, but it was quite possible to get through. Good thing that the expedition took the necessary equipment for this purpose. Without tools for overcoming the debris, it would be the greatest folly for such a crowd to go into the Underworld. But that was not all that the elves and Saya found. Right next to the section of the wall that Master needed, there was also a ruin, which definitely belonged to the dark elves. And in them, the slanted assassin, thanks to her new powers, found something very interesting.
After hearing her report, Master sighed tiredly, but gave a short order to move the camp to a new location. Bazita, who had just washed herself off, and had expected to rest, perhaps in the company of some pretty puppet, or at least the same Little, announced the whole tent with her long groan. But Master had not much time left, so everyone had to obey and leave the newly occupied place. In the new place, immediately after settling in, he again developed a flurry of activity. One part of the puppets busied themselves with Saya's discovery in the ruins. Others, however, were engaged in making their way to Diyarten under the direct supervision of Master.
The thickness of the stone separating their hall from the discovered voids could be penetrated relatively quickly if one wished, spared no effort, alchemy, and special explosive amulets. But to penetrate the dead city in such a way was the height of stupidity and idiocy. So the passage had to be done as carefully as possible but quickly. Of course, the unknown something from the depths beneath the Underworld might have long since left this place. But Master was not going to expose himself to any unnecessary risk, especially such a huge one. Even though he had gained the gift of the Greatest Power, it was foolish to think that a whole city of underground dwellers was inferior in strength to him.
A special, rather complicated and expensive set of amulets was used to create the passage. In the language of all sorts of miners, geomancers and other people who dealt with stones and earth, it was called “ Duster”. And it fully justified its name. Placed on any solid surface in such a way as to form a closed perimeter, these amulets created a combination of magical barriers of the grid type. These barriers slowly but surely, working like a grater, began to turn any hard rock into dust of varying degrees of fineness within the paved perimeter. It is clear that the harder the rock, the more time and effort this process took, but even with the softest rocks, it was not fast. But this method was reliable, made almost no noise, except for a quiet humming, and, most importantly, if a little refined amulets, was very imperceptible in the magical sense. The Dusters were regularly used by those who prayed to Lortan.
The two “dusters” at the expedition's disposal were of excellent quality, the barrier grids they created had very fine meshes, which allowed them to successfully grind most of even the toughest rocks. In addition, Master ordered to spare no storage crystals, bringing the amulets to full power. He had a decent supply of these crystals, and there was no problem with refilling them with magic. And it worked! The solid rock of the side wall of the underground hall crumbled into fine sand, and in its place was a relatively wide passage.
All the work, as a result, took almost six hours, taking into account the replacement of crystals-batteries, and then the change of the main “Duster” on the spare, in order to give the first one a rest and put it in order. As a result, they managed to make a wide and high passage, almost five meters deep. Which was, by the standards of the same ore-diggers, just an excellent result! Though, few miners or ore miners could afford such expenses. In terms of money, Master had spent a considerable sum of money during those six hours.
It was less than half a metre away from the emptiness that the scouts had discovered, and now it could be ‘felt’ with magic more than confidently. On the surface, it would have been possible to ‘illuminate’ everything for dozens of metres ahead, knowing exactly what was there, but the Underworld had its own laws. Absolutely all local rocks, even those far away from active sources of magic, were saturated with it to a certain extent. And because of that, they were denser and thicker in terms of magic, and the weaving of search charms and attempts to see through them were stuck in them. The thicker the rock, the worse it was, which, in Master's case, mostly played to his advantage, saving him from his pursuers.
But less than half a metre is not five metres, so along with some of the puppets, he was quite successfully able to determine what kind of void lay ahead, beyond the remaining rock wall. It was a small cave, formed by the fact that part of the rock wall of the hall had collapsed. And it didn't just collapse, but into a spacious and obviously man-made room. It was impossible to understand anything further, but there was no doubt about it. They had made it. Diyarten was right in front of them.
But before moving forward, Master allowed himself and his puppets a little rest. It was a fool's errand to go into a dead city when you were exhausted. After ensuring the defense around the expedition's camp was in place, the sentries were on duty, and the alarm and warning charms were active, the exhausted Master collapsed on the camp bed and fell into a deep sleep. The only strength he had was to cuddle Saya, who was nestled next to him. Basita, with her enormous stature, could not fit in the camp bed. There was no strength for anything else.
* * *
A brutal-looking man he'd seen somewhere before, with scars that glowed an unkind red light on his face, was sitting at a table, in the company of a well-fed young man. Also vaguely familiar and definitely someone he'd seen before. They were both wearing strange-looking armor, and in front of them stood a half-empty bottle with an inscription in an unfamiliar language. Somehow, however, Master understood the meaning of the alien letters: “Rinkol.” The fat guy leaned toward his interlocutor and asked a truly philosophical question:
T.N.
"Listen, if you fuck your own female version, would that be considered incest, or an advanced form of masturbation?"
An interesting question, the guy's interlocutor was clearly thinking, as was Master himself. Indeed, on the one hand...
He didn't have time to finish the thought, because there was a deafening rumble, a flash of purple light, and the table with the two drinking buddies flew away, to their frightened screams. In its place appeared a tall, athletically built beauty with shoulder-length red hair and green eyes. She was dressed in the same strange armor as the two men, and in her hands she held a strange-looking metal object that for some reason caused Master to vaguely associate it with a heavy battle wand. Very heavy. When she saw her drinking companions flying away, she shouted in fury with a face twisted with anger:
"I'm going to give you both a session of anal masturbation now, and then you'll find out!"
With a threatening flick of her heavy battle wand, she headed in their direction with a violet glow. She was followed by a strange-looking... girl? Only with blue-coloured skin and strange hair that resembled the tentacles of sea creatures. She was dressed in the same strange armour, but white and blue, and she was also enveloped in a violet glow. As she tried to catch up with the rampaging beauty, she screamed in panic:
"Wait, don't do it, he's gonna like it..."
* * *
"Master?"
"Mmm?"
Opening his eyes, Master looked at Saya's slanted face for a few seconds.
"Master, five hours have passed, you asked..."
"Yeah-yeah..."
He stretched tiredly and reluctantly climbed out of the camp bed. The brief and inarticulate sleep that had left him with only vague memories did little to relieve him. Maybe the next step would be to get a gift that would allow him to get by on only two hours of sleep. But it would be a shame to waste his gifts on such a thing. No, he can take it! He can do it! He just has to be patient a little longer.
After breakfast and a quick check of the puppets, Master gathered the most valuable of them and his loyal dolls. Arming them with everything he could, thoroughly instructing them, checking and rechecking everything, he gave the order to use another set of disposable amulets. Also quite common among those who work underground. Having evenly placed the amulets in the form of thick metal plates along the half-metre wall of the passage that separated them from Diyartan, one of the gifted puppets simultaneously activated them with a short magical pulse. There was a barely audible crack, and then the last section of the wall collapsed to the floor with a pile of small stones. And all this with almost no noise, thanks to the separate amulet in the whole set. And without any dust, which was important, especially in the Underworld.
When the stones crumbled, Master and his servants could see the darkened cave that had been passed into a man-made room. Actually, it was cut right through the thickness of the stone wall separating the two underground halls, only from Diyarten's side. And at some point, a large part of that wall had collapsed, cutting off about a third of the room, but shortening the distance from it to the neighbouring underground hall. It may well be that the walled-up hall was trying to gradually ‘free itself’.
For the first few moments after the passage was breached, Master and his puppets were tense to the max. They were ready to retreat at any moment, collapsing the newly made passage with the explosive amulets placed on its walls. But a minute passed. A second. Nothing happened. Silence. Having given a command to his puppets from among the gifted, Master with their support began to carefully ‘probe’ the space ahead. Now, when they were not separated by the thickness of interhall walls, it was much easier to do it and the result was much more accurate.
He looked for possible danger, lurking enemies, traps, magical anomalies, anything. He found nothing of the sort in the room before him. But he had spotted small underground creatures in abundance. By the standards of the Underworld, of course. They were mostly cave rats, which he reported to the dark elf puppets, who were the most tense of all. Hearing this, the Nydira who had led them calmed down a bit and informed them that this was a very good sign. If there had been no wildlife at all, she would have advised that the passageway be blocked off immediately.
Then Master and his puppets moved cautiously forward. The dark elves and Saya were first, followed by the best of Lady Edelhart's blades, and Master and Bazita closed the procession. Very quickly it became clear that the place they had made their way into was part of the interior of an obviously large House of Dark Elves. And, judging by the surviving rows of numerous and very large clay amphorae, it was a food store. All amphorae were carefully sealed and in addition bore traces of magical enchantments. Most likely to keep the contents fresh. But the enchantments had long since dissipated and the seals had decayed. The pottery could not rot, but the cave rats had gnawed holes in each of the amphorae with their steel teeth, eating their contents.
Master's dark elf puppets even recognised the marks on the side of each of the amphorae, indicating the contents. They were mostly ground grits, which were expensive in the Underworld. But there were also amphorae with land wine, dried fruit and oils. The amphorae themselves, judging by their appearance, remembered the days of the Island Empire, now reduced to the size of a kingdom. The Dark Elf House they had entered was clearly not the last one in Diyarten. It might have been even a Great House. But to the regret of Master, the puppets could not recognise the symbol on the preserved seals. They were all relatively young by the standards of their kin, even Nydira. Besides, they were Hunters, and were not particularly interested in the history of bygone days. Master and the puppets moved on after the storage room, which had become a real breeding ground for underground rodents when the enchantments on the amphorae had completely worn off.
When they opened the doors leading to the next room, also a storage room, they froze in amazement. Because almost half of the next room didn't exist! Instead, they were faced with a mesmerising view of Diyarten, plunged into the eternal twilight of the Underworld. The sight was both frightening and beautiful. The city occupied a huge underground hall of relatively rectangular shape almost entirely. The sturdy and massive buildings of the dark dwarves neighboured with the noticeably more refined buildings of the dark elves. At first glance, it seemed as if the city was simply sleeping, immersed in the conventional night of the Underworld. But then it became clear that it was not.
The city was not sleeping, the city was dead. Not a single artificial light was burning in the windows of the houses, not a single living inhabitant was strolling along the streets, not a single sound was heard except for the silent whistling of the air and the squeaking of the Cave Fliers under the ceiling. Besides, if you looked closely, you could see that some of the buildings were partially or completely destroyed. Somewhere there had been a small collapse, and rocks from the ceiling had broken through the structure. Somewhere it had partially or completely collapsed. And somewhere there were clearly visible traces of a desperate magical battle. Some buildings had literally folded in the path of the attacking magic, forming entire swathes of the city. However, the most destruction was at the edges of the huge crack that split the underground hall in two. It stretched obliquely from one corner to the other, starting just short of where Master and his servants were.
And, apparently, most of the Dark Elf House, through whose food store they had made their way, had collapsed into that crack. Most of what survived was the part that had been cut through the rock of the side wall. To be fair, not such a small part. The house was on the edge of the city, adjoining the side wall closely and reaching almost to the very ceiling of the underground hall in height. The warehouse they were in was somewhere just above the middle, giving them a great view. Another confirmation that the lost House was a Great House. One of the best places for housing among the dark elves was considered to be the areas at the side walls of the underground halls, because it was much easier to keep the defence there. And also it was possible, with proper desire and skill, to dig a secret escape route to the neighbouring hall if the defence could not be held. And not just for that.
But for this particular House, the choice of location was unfortunate, determining its fate. Although, according to Nydira, on that fateful day, only those of its inhabitants who were on the outskirts of the city near the passageways to the neighbouring halls survived. The others, despite their desperate resistance, were destroyed by the Diyarten Horror, which had emerged from the crevice that had split the city in two. And it could return at any moment, as Nydira, who was frightened, kept reminding. He was much more calm. Last time, the creature had come out of its depths for more prey than the handful of puppets that had come with it. Besides, unlike the marauding gangs, they kept their presence hidden as much as possible.
Very cautiously, listening to his surroundings, Master walked to the very edge of the ruined warehouse and looked down. A few dozen meters below was the beginning of the crevice that cut Diyarten in two. Expectantly, he saw nothing but impenetrable darkness. No flashes of deep fire at the very bottom, no flickers of underground crystals in the walls. Nothing. Just thick darkness. Of course, Master didn't even try to “probe” it with magic. He didn't want to accidentally attract the attention of whoever lived there. And probably still does.
But it was possible and necessary to see the city itself, and the place was perfect for that. Concentrating, Master switched to magic vision, combining several variants of it at once, and in it the city looked not so dead as in ordinary vision. Magical energy was slowly rising from the sinkhole, originating in the very depths of the earth. Raw, crude, yet very powerful, belonging equally to the aspects of earth and fire. Clearly several of its key streams were distinct. Any geo- or pyromancer, especially one from the Underworld, would pay any price for sole possession of such a source of free power. But no one in the dead city could tap into that power. It simply flowed from the bowels of the Earth, gradually dissipating and seeping into the invisible cracks of the rock, going further into the rock strata. No one needed it and no one used it. And it was not only the power coming from the crevice. Master could clearly see other magical sources, both in the surviving and half-destroyed buildings. It was an unbelievable waste... Stop! Stop!
//"This can't be!
The realisation of the wrongness of the picture was so obvious that Master did not pay attention to it at once only because he was too concentrated on searching for possible dangers in the dead city. There were none. But it couldn't be! If there were animals, and there were, then with so many powerful natural magical sources, at least some of them must have had an owner. Even the cave rats, if put alone in such a place, would sooner or later grow to the size of a wolf, turning into dangerous predators filled with magic. Or a single giant rat the size of a good bull would appear. Something is bound to appear!
And this one doesn't see or even feel anything like that. Right. Giving a mental command to his puppets, Master began to ‘look’ and ‘’probe‘’ the city even more carefully, looking for any signs of lurking local predators. Or one major predator. His mental gaze glided over abandoned houses, some of which looked like palaces. Streets wide or narrow. Canals that had dried up and were still full of water. The canals that had turned into real canals. the underground equivalent of a city park. Being inside an underground hall and at altitude, it was relatively easy to do. In addition, there were hardly any places in the dead city that were not easy to see from the outside. The defences of the treasuries, private chambers, hiding places, and caches had long since decayed or deteriorated in many places. Much was due to the wild magic that filled the city from the depths. But the contents were still intact in some places. Especially in a couple of the palaces. Master could see that clearly.
But nowhere, not in any place did Master perceive anyone alive larger than an ordinary yard dog. Yes, he ‘watched’ with his puppets very carefully, so as not to attract a possible enemy with an excessive gaze. Yes, he tried not to give away his presence as much as possible, but still, at least he had to notice something! And in the end he did. Or rather, the attention to the right detail was drawn by Nydira, whom he mentally connected to the search. The experienced Dungeon Huntress suddenly perked up:
//"Look!
//‘What? Where?’
//‘A dilapidated building with a collapsed magical tower on the bank of a still-full canal.’
//‘Which... I see it! What about it?’
//‘There's a beast path! It goes from the collapsed bank of the canal to a small breach in the base of the wall, right by the tower! Judging by the tracks, it's the path of a large animal.’
//‘Now... I see... Yes, indeed... One moment...’
Focusing on the place Nydira had indicated, Master had no trouble seeing into the basement of the partially collapsed tower. It was there, the magical source that had once fed the tower was still active. Over the past centuries, it had gone noticeably “wild”, but it was still quite good in terms of power and energy. It was also clearly the lair of a predator. Almost the entire basement was littered with the bones of various subterranean beasts. Well...
With even more concentration, Master carefully awakened his priceless artifact he had received from the now deceased lowlife. Combining it with his magical gaze, he attuned himself to the lair of the unknown beast. It was also a rather unobvious technique, which he had not discovered immediately, and then he had spent a long and painstaking time mastering. It allowed him to watch or steal memories from a distance. So, what does this place tell us? Uh-huh.
The basement of the partially collapsed tower was home to a cave rat that had been mutated by a magical source. The ordinary rodent had grown to the size of a large wolf, and had lost its fur, but it had acquired a patch of tough scales, poisonous spikes on the end of its tail, and equally poisonous fangs. And also the ability to blend in well with the surrounding terrain due to a simple but effective illusion-camouflage. The rat's trade was to hunt all those who came to the watering hole and were within his teeth. Including his own kin. This lasted for quite a long time, more than a couple of decades, during which time he became bigger and stronger. But it remained quite cautious, clearly wary of someone. The details were unclear, but several times Master had seen the rat dash from its ambush on the bank of the canal back to its lair. And then, all at once, it was gone.
It was as if the mutant rat had never existed. It was impossible to understand what had happened and when exactly the predator had disappeared. Just now there was the local main predator, and now it was as if it had never existed. Only the bones of the prey remained. Master, in his many years of working with the Memory Gatherer, had encountered this kind of thing many times. He easily recognized the signs that something had taken the memory of what had happened, literally devouring it even from the stones of the tower's basement. Devoured, most likely along with the mutant rat. The picture is beginning to take shape....
Concentrating, Master plunged into the even more distant past of the source, already guessing what he would see there. And so he did. An ordinary burrowing spider, under the influence of the source, had grown from a creature the size of a palm to the size of a large dog. At the same time, it received a much stronger and deadlier venom, partially poisoned web and mutated front legs into scorpion-like claws. The predatory arthropod grew stronger, larger, and more dangerous with each passing year, and then it disappeared. It simply vanished, as if it had never existed.
Further search revealed a dozen more empty lairs. All of them are located on magical springs. And all of their inhabitants, including quite strong and dangerous monsters mutated from the local relatively harmless inhabitants, had the same fate. The creature would occupy a no-one's source, gradually grow stronger, and then disappear. Uh-huh.
The picture was becoming clearer and clearer. It seemed that the deep dweller that had devoured the city had not gone anywhere, but had turned it into its feeding grounds. And periodically harvests the food from the livestock. So how do you know when it's time to feed? Do you just come back to check every few decades? Or... Aha! Already knowing roughly what to look for, Master noticed what he needed, even if not immediately. He had to choose not the most obvious mode of magical vision to notice a lot of thin, practical invisible threads. They stretched from all sorts of places, covering almost the entire dead city with their web on both sides, and converging to two points on the edges of the crevice that had split it. Right in the center. And going two strands down into the impenetrable darkness. Well...
Standing frozen on the edge of the warehouse that had collapsed into the abyss of the House of Dark Elves, Master thought hard. Dozens of thoughts swarmed in his head, and gradually the initial plan of action began to change, and a very unkind smile appeared on Master's face.
* * *
Author's Note:
So, Master has snatched a full chapter for himself again. Well, what can you do, that's what he's the Master for.
Once again, thanks to everyone who reads, comments, and especially corrects typos. All the best!
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http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/584787
Переводчики: Camrad_RIP
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