Chapter 9
Infernals, Kinadain, and a mystic fox mingled outside the Labyrinth entrance as Rys descended the steps. Two of the figures towered above everybody else, their massive bulks a reminder of the raw power that Rys commanded from his demons. Both Grigor and Fat Fred were immensely powerful demon princes by the standards of the mortals around them.
“Everybody seems to be getting along,” Rys commented as he sidled up to Fara.
She gave him a sidelong look from the corner she stood in. Unlike the others, she kept her distance from the infernals.
“Better than I expected,” Fara admitted. “I hadn’t realized the Kinadain had grown accustomed to the demons while I was gone.”
“They train together most days. The noble demons are strong and experienced, and Alsia’s best warriors are highly skilled. There’s a lot for both sides to learn from one another,” Rys said.
Alsia and a handful of her best swordsmen stood in the center of the room, next to Grigor and a few noble demons. A pale-skinned dwarf with no beard stood next to them—this was Margrim, who was the leader of the Ashen. They were a race of pyromaniacal common devils capable of infernal sorcery.
All devils had a human form and a monstrous form, although the latter was only seen in the most dire of circumstances. Most devils would rather die than allow others to see their monstrous form, and they usually did.
The human form varied with species. The Ashen had always seemed off, given albino dwarves with red eyes, no beards, and the ability to use sorcery resembled normal dwarves about as well as sharks resembled goldfish. The fact they somehow passed as dwarves anyway caused Rys to question the intelligence of humanity.
“The Kinadain have always been so superstitious, however.” Fara frowned. “Even I’m not quite sold on the ordinary demons. They’re far too driven by their instincts.”
“I doubt most people would be any different, if you gave them the same power and life,” Rys said. “But the demons are settling down as they realize that they will be here for the long haul, so long as they don’t fuck things up.”
“No grand briefing for the troops, Rys?” a pompous voice interrupted them. “Although I suppose we are all familiar enough with this strange Labyrinth of yours.”
Fred lumbered up to the pair of them, his immense corpulence shaking the very foundation of the castle with each step he took. Instinctively, Fara’s tails curled around herself as his four baleful eyes locked onto her. But the prince swiftly redirected his attention to Rys.
“I’ve never been one for big speeches, Fred,” Rys said. “Plus, this is mostly mop up. I need to remove a blockage so that I can investigate the rest of the Labyrinth. Should I reel off something about the need for good plumbing?”
“It is important,” Fred replied with a toothy grin that practically split his bestial face in two. Fara physically recoiled. “Ah, my apologies, Lady Fara. I am afraid that I lost my human illusion Gift a number of centuries ago. A mishap during the Golden Age. The devil who granted it to me was a victim of the helldragon’s rampage, before Azrael put her down.”
Rys grimaced. “I really do need to brush up on my history in more detail.”
One side of Fred’s face rose, expanding his triangular eyes. “I would recommend it. There are few threats capable of matching you at full strength, but they have been active during the great phases of history. The Archangel Azrael is one, but there are immensely powerful dragons still around despite the near extinction of their race. And humanity grows in power with each century. Perhaps one day a second Talarys might be born.”
“I think one Rys is more than enough,” Fara drawled.
“I can agree on that,” Rys said.
“You realize that wasn’t a compliment, right?”
“Yes. And while I’m very happy with myself, I’m certain I’d hate somebody else who was exactly like me,” he said with a wink.
“Honesty is a virtue,” Fred said solemnly. “Although I imagine it is weighed down by the immensity of the seven sins you endlessly indulge in. Today should be an excellent chance to see you empty your wrath on another.”
The demon prince tipped his halberd, then stomped off to talk with the Lilim. The little succubi stared at their new companion in confused fascination. Refusing Fred was impossible, given his rank, but they didn’t know what he wanted from them.
“He’s doing that on purpose, isn’t he?” Fara asked under her breath.
“Fred’s a simple demon. He has power, and he enjoys exerting it. Right now, he’s taking great pleasure from the fact that the Lilim are deeply discomforted by him but can’t run away. He doesn’t do anything. He merely exercises his power,” Rys said.
“I’d say that makes him an asshole, but everything about him confuses me.” Fara’s tails wavered uncertainly.
“Fred is definitely a pompous prick. He’s friendly and reliable beneath the rough exterior.”
“I’m not sure I’d call his exterior ‘rough’, Rys.”
Rys moved over to the gate when he spotted a glitter of light near it. Grigor noticed his movement and joined him after waving off the others. The demons parted like the sea for Grigor, offering the demon prince a raised fist and a greeting as he passed. After a few moments, Alsia joined Rys as well, her red cloak fluttering behind her as she darted through the rapidly closing gap that Grigor left in his wake.
The light turned out to be Orthrus, Rys’s partner in this castle. Orthrus was a golden wisp of light. Two glowing eyes and the shape of a skull and beak could be seen within the ball.
When Rys had awoken from 1500 years of slumber, he had been greeted with this golden wisp. Supposedly, Orthrus had been sealed inside Castle Aion—which was the official name of this place—long before Rys, and he had spent millennia trying to free himself. He had weakened the seal on Rys, but Orthrus was still limited in his movements.
The wisp held countless secrets and possibly told many lies. But Rys had his own secrets. The two needed to work together to free themselves, even if they didn’t trust each other.
“You are ready to leave?” Orthrus asked, his tone smooth and artificial. He used magic to project his voice and it left obvious traces. Rys didn’t know if the magic was necessary because Orthrus was a wisp, or if he had always used magic to talk.
“Is the dragon still in place?” Rys asked.
“It is not a dragon, but a sleithneir,” Orthrus stated testily.
“It looked like a dragon to me when we saw it. But elucidate the differences,” Rys said, curious if there were any.
“A dragon is a natural being, native to Harrium. They have enormous magical reserves, flame breath, and are capable of using sorcery,” Orthrus said.
“Uh huh. Orthrus, I commanded and trained literal armies of dragons. I’m asking what a sleithneir is.”
The wisp attempted to glare at him, but lacked the eyelids or presence to achieve the desired effect.
“The sleithneir is the Creator’s version of a dragon,” Orthrus explained, referring to the being that created the Labyrinth and Castle Aion. “It is an unnatural beast, with powerful magic condensed into a smaller size than dragons of comparable strength. Their breath varies based on their breed—that is why the undead variation you encountered spewed actual death. Instead of sorcery, they have magical abilities built into them and greatly increased strength, regeneration, and resilience.”
Rys stared at Orthrus. “The Creator mass produced his own version of fucking dragons?”
“Yes. I believe he felt that the breeding process of dragons was too slow.”
“The Infernal Empire felt the same way.” Rys shook his head in disbelief, holding a hand against his head. “They weren’t quite as successful.”
Fara looked at him in confusion, while Grigor’s expression darkened.
“Rys, I don’t follow,” Fara said.
“The Infernal Empire used dragons as their most powerful weapons in war. Siege weapons that could crack the greatest fortresses; elite armies that could destroy even the most dangerous opponent; champions that had the power to threaten even angelic Primum,” he explained. “The downside was the time it took to train and breed them.”
“Indeed. We had precious few remaining after the Cataclysm and the war against the angels,” Grigor rumbled. “And, of course, after Mylar’s betrayal, even fewer remained on Harrium.”
“Don’t remind me,” Rys said darkly.
The Infernal Empire had fallen due to the betrayal of the dragons. Although it was harsh to call it a betrayal, given how horrific the Empire really was.
Could someone betray an Empire that controlled them against their will?
Rys didn’t really care. The reality was that the dragon king Mylar had destroyed Ruathym, killed Rys’s mentor and friend, Duar, and ended the oldest and greatest nation on Harrium in a single night. Afterward, countless millions had died as a direct result.
Forcibly pushing his thoughts away from the fall of Ruathym, Rys returned to the topic at hand.
“Dragons take roughly two centuries to become an adult, at which point they build up the magical reserves that make them so fearsome,” Rys continued. “Before that, they’re just big, ugly things who can throw powerful spells and breathe fire. Whereas adult dragons can hurl a century of magical energy at once. If you put a dozen of them together, they can literally vaporize cities.”
Fara stared at him, eyes wide.
“Yeah, this is normal for me,” he said. “I know a trick or three to stop them, but I’ll need my full power back. My problem is that this sleithneir is a mass-produced version of a dragon. Orthrus, from the sounds of it, it’s more consistently dangerous?”
“Correct. Ordinary dragons must be conservative with their power, but every spell might contain years of power. This sleithneir will be stronger at all times, but it will not cast a spell to, say, vaporize everyone in the chamber.”
“I’ll take it,” Rys said. “I actually think dragons might be stronger.”
“They are, but does that matter when you have ten thousand sleithneirs that can be created in a matter of years?” Orthrus asked rhetorically.
The power of the Creator was something else, Rys realized. Then again, he already knew that. The Labyrinth was a wonder beyond his imagining.
Grigor swiftly gathered up the expeditionary force, and they set off into the Labyrinth.
As always, the first four floors took very little time. The Kinadain swordsmen appeared to be used to this, and Rys realized they must be joining the demons in their daily Labyrinth dives.
Alsia sidled up to him to explain, “We have an innate sense of direction in the Labyrinth. This Orthrus might understand more than we do, but we have been leading the demonic raiding parties recently. It is good practice for them.”
“I hadn’t realized,” Rys said with a frown. He supposed he couldn’t stay on top of everything.
The problem of the Labyrinth was that it twisted and changed whenever he turned his back on it. If they left a room, it instantly transformed. The first four floors were always linear, but from the fifth floor onward, it became a maze that could chew up anyone who entered it. Without a guide like Orthrus or the Kinadain, there was no guarantee that they could escape at all.
The Labyrinth itself was a twisted mystery that bent time and space. It stretched across the entire archipelago. Right now, Rys was trying to push his way toward the island of Gorgria. Orthrus told him that there was a way to connect the Labyrinth to it.
Each room contained bizarre creatures that the party defeated without much difficulty. Eight-legged hounds covered in spikes that charged them on sight. Fire-breathing lizards with six arms that used white-hot weapons. Colorless blobs that expelled noxious gases and controlled the surrounding temperature, but could only be harmed by magic from afar.
The infernals and Kinadain were well versed in how to fight each enemy. Although they had changed since the last time Rys had been down here. Evidently, the Labyrinth altered more than its layout. The size of the rooms themselves had also increased to match the larger size of the adventuring party. Rather than corridors, Rys would call them causeways, given they could fit a dozen demons abreast.
Eventually, the group found the chamber with their target.
A gargantuan hall stood before them, shrouded in darkness. They stood on top of a staircase that led down and at the far end was a steel door twice Grigor’s height. The spine of the sleithneir poked up out of the darkness, clearly curled around a shrine hidden within it. Rotten scales and flesh ran along its backside, and huge pools of pus and goo shined in the dim light.
“It looks as horrific as it did last time,” Fara said, her face paling.
“Somehow, it looks smaller,” Grigor noted.
“The chamber is bigger,” Rys said, looking around. “But nothing else is. That will make this easier. I had been concerned about fighting it in such a small hall, given how damn big it is.”
The undead dragon would barely fit inside the palace’s throne room. Not even Fat Fred’s bulk would be enough to plug its throat and cause it to choke to death, which was saying something.
“Rys, how big do dragons get if this is a small one?” Fara asked.
“The biggest ones I recall are the size of keeps,” he said.
“The silver helldragon who serves Azrael is larger,” Fred noted from behind them. “She is the largest of her race—nearly a thousand feet long, and comparable in size to the largest of castles.”
Rys found that hard to believe, but confirmed that Fred wasn’t exaggerating that badly using his knowledge Gift.
“She’s not quite that large,” Rys said. “But she’s close.”
“Rys, what is a helldragon?” Fara asked. “I’m feeling a lot less worldly today.”
“They’re a species of dragon that the infernals created by…” He coughed. “By injecting large amounts of infernal energy into dragons. I’ll leave it to your imagination how that happened, but it took place during the Emergence, over 4000 years ago. They’re bigger, meaner, more powerful versions of dragons.”
“But not sleithneirs.”
“No. They’re still dragons, at least biologically. The infernal energy just… warps them.” Rys shrugged. “More to the point, we need a plan to kill this thing. Grigor, given what Orthrus said about its enhanced strength, I think it’s wise to limit direct confrontation to just us.”
Rys gestured to himself and the two demon princes. Fara scowled in response.
“You are not leaving me out of this,” she snapped.
Alsia also took the opportunity to enter the conversation. She had lingered nearby, while her swordsmen grimaced at the beast dwelling below.
“Agreed. I believe we are both capable warriors. Can we not assist you here?” Alsia said, one hand on her sword.
Rys rolled his eyes. “I do want to make it clear that you can help defeat the thing without turning yourself into its lunch. Do either of you have the ability to stop it from squashing you flat?”
“Do you?” Fara countered.
“Yes,” Fred and Grigor rumbled together.
Fara blinked while Rys chuckled. Several nearby demons looked over in confusion.
“Trust me. I can bench press that thing all day long,” Rys said. “So can Grigor and Fred. That’s why we go on the front line. You’re forgetting the gap between demon princes and mortals. What I want from the two of you is support. Fara, your spiritual flames are the best weapon we have against an undead monster that runs on magic. Alsia, you’re an extremely capable sorceress and your swordsmen are spiritualists.”
Alsia blushed and her scaly tail swished along the floor.
“Indeed. This beast shall fall quickly if we fight it strategically.” Grigor stroked the bottom of his maw. “If we attack it from multiple directions, its attention will be split. Once an opening is created, we can direct the Ashen, Fara, and the spiritualists toward it. If it is disabled, I will direct the noble demons in for a finishing strike.”
“I believe that is unwise,” Fred said. “We can outlast the beast. Leave the demons behind, rather than waste them.”
Grigor let out a deep harrumph. “We don’t know its power or true capabilities. If we miss an opportunity, then we may not have another.”
“Then we retreat and adjust our strategy. Time is our ally.”
“It may have regeneration.”
The two princes began to bicker, and Rys stepped away.
Fara gave him a questioning look. “Shouldn’t you step in?”
“This is why I have generals. They both have plenty of experience, even if they have different approaches. I’ll let them argue, and then force them to pick a final plan. Worst case, I make my own using their input. But what’s the point of having competent subordinates if I just boss them around all the time?” he asked.
Alsia nodded, clearly taking mental notes.
The two princes came to an agreement after twenty minutes of bickering. That gave everybody else enough time to rest up and prepare for the attack.
Rys, Grigor, and Fred descended the steps. They hadn’t even reached the bottom when the dragon stirred, its entire spine rippling as it uncurled.
Blood red balls of flame flew through the air, thrown by the Ashen. The hall lit up, revealing its true shape. A pit skirted the edges of the room, and Rys doubted it was a short fall.
“New plan, avoid the edge,” Rys snapped.
Grigor and Fred grunted, then leaped forward. They landed on either side of the dragon. The size of the hall gave them plenty of room to maneuver, and Rys charged down the steps. He unhooked his axe, and it immediately shimmered with an eerie black light. A moment later, a red shimmer overtook it as he pumped it full of unstable infernal energy, using his infernal blow technique to prepare an attack.
The monster towered over him as it reared up. It roared and he felt his eardrums rumble in response. Ringing overtook his hearing. He didn’t slow or react to it.
Locking onto him, the dragon shot across the hall at a speed that defied physics. No monster that large should be capable of moving so fast, so quickly. But it did, and its muscles and scales rippled behind it.
A huge claw slammed down on Rys, intent on squashing him. Grigor and Fred were too far away to help. They focused on their part of the plan.
Rys caught the claw with his hands. Who knew how many tons of force came down on him at once as the undead beast attempted to turn him into a stain on the ground. His knees began to buckle.
Then an immense power roared through him as his strength Gift activated. He held the dragon back almost effortlessly. It screeched at him, and black light appeared beyond the rotting teeth within its shattered maw.
“Rys!” Fara shouted.
Blue flames shot overhead as she hurled her spiritual flames against the dragon. It reeled, abandoning its attempt to vaporize Rys with its breath of death. But as it tried to pull its claw back, Rys held it in place. His hands slipped between the gaps in its scales in order to grip the claw tightly.
The dragon roared again, then tried to crush him again. To no avail.
It flailed about, its torn wings beating up a storm. Grigor and Fred ripped into its legs from either side, their rune-crafted weapons tearing gaping, gory holes in its fetid flesh. Fiery light rippled on Rys’s hands as he used his infernal sorcery to hold the undead beast in place.
His strength Gift ensured he was always stronger than his opponent, even if they used magic to enhance themselves. It couldn’t match conceptual or astral enhancement, like what the angels used, but it was more than enough for a mere dragon.
This battle had been decided almost from the outset. The dumb undead monster had done the equivalent of challenging Rys to a battle of strength, not knowing that he had rigged the result in his favor.
More blue flames rained down on the dragon. It let out a stream of black light into the distance, and he saw Fara dart out of the way. But the dragon continued to panic as Rys held it in place. Hellfire joined Fara’s rain of flame, along with lances of magic from Alsia and her Kinadain.
The demons watched from the top of the stairs, and they began to clap.
If anything, this felt too easy. Rys decided to make this more interesting.
He summoned more strength from his Gift and pushed against the dragon. It screeched in fury.
A moment later, it began to rise. Rys pushed the entire monster up in the air. The muscles in its legs began to give. He heard them snap and pop as the dead flesh ruptured. Bones burst through scales and a shower of pus rained down on him as the leg he pushed nearly exploded.
Rys lost his grip during the mess. The damage was done, however.
Screaming in pain and fury, the undead dragon crashed to the ground in a heap. It flailed around, shooting a beam of death in futility. Rys cursed as it nearly clipped him, and dove to the side. Grigor leaped through the air above him, avoiding the beam as it turned one half of the hall into actual death.
“I guess Fred was right,” Rys called out as he rose to his feet.
Grigor grunted as he prepared to charge the dragon, which rested for a moment between its screaming fits. “We must seize this opportunity, before it realizes how effective that tactic is.”
“We’ll use Fred as a shield if we have to. He’s big enough that we’ll have a few minutes before he rots away,” Rys said.
The bloated demon prince gave him a belabored look as the three of them closed on the dragon’s head.
“As much as I enjoy watching others beat against my armor of flesh in raw futility, I do not believe that is how this monster’s attack works,” Fred said.
Grigor raised his axe into the air. Rys couldn’t tell, but he imagined that the Kashlovian prince was giving Margrim and his Ashen the order to attack using mindspeak. Fara and the others had ceased attacking when the dragon had gone crazy. The beam of death made being in the hall too dangerous.
A moment later, Rys’s suspicion proved correct. A glowing red circle of light appeared beneath the dragon’s head. This was the target of the Ashen’s indirect-fire spell, which they cast as a group.
Realizing what was happening, the dragon attempted to rise. But it failed. One of its limbs was destroyed, and the others had been grievously wounded. It had likely blasted itself in its own panic.
Instead, it snapped wildly at the three of them. Grigor slammed its head aside with his axe, breaking off several scales in the process.
Another ball of black light appeared deep within the dragon’s maw. Before it turned into a beam of death, the three of them attacked.
Rys’s axe slammed into the dragon and exploded with infernal energy, blowing a huge chunk from its head. Grigor and Fred then carved it open as fast as possible.
“Withdraw,” Grigor snapped.
They did so wordlessly. The dragon screeched, with what little will it had left.
Then the Ashen’s spell activated. Hellfire ripped through the open wound in its head. All unlife left the beast, as its essence was vaporized from the inside out.
The body of the monster collapsed against the stonework like an abandoned puppet. Upon its death, the steel door on the far side ratcheted open with a series of clangs.
A minute passed. They remained on guard, in case of any remaining traps. But the beast was dead. While they waited, Rys took the chance to clean himself off with magic. That pus stank.
Rys called everybody down. He took some samples from it and pushed its body into the pit around the edge of the hall. Nobody heard it strike the bottom.
“Got the slate, boss,” Margrim said. He held up a long black slate of stone. It was roughly two feet long and an inch thick, which had been kept inside the shrine.
“Keep it somewhere safe. I’ll install it into the castle when we return,” Rys said.
That slate helped power Castle Aion’s special mechanisms. It was arguably the intended prize, but what Rys really cared about was being able to progress.
“That was far easier than I expected,” Fara said as she approached him with Alsia.
Both women kept their distance.
“I cleaned myself off earlier,” he said.
“I saw what got on you. Forgive me if I wait until you spend a week or three inside the bath to wash it off,” Fara said, her expression sickened. “How did you not retch when that shit coated you? The smell of the monster made me want to throw up at least.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been around necromancers in the past. More to the point, that was only a dragon. I had expected more difficulty given its undead nature, but a demon prince can usually defeat a live one by themselves.”
“Only a dragon,” the fox muttered. “Couldn’t Grigor have fought it when we first encountered it?”
“He’d already used his revival Gift when we had. Taking that risk, especially down here, was unwise. Now, I have my enhanced strength Gift, the Ashen, Alsia, and an extra demon prince. Victory was a foregone conclusion,” Rys said.
“I suppose we’ve now seen why the Malus League have never removed this beast in the past,” Alsia said. “They lack your power.”
Rys stared at her in confusion.
Before he asked her what she meant, Margrim shouted from the exit. “Hey, boss. You should check this out. I don’t think we’re alone down here.”
The sense of rest and relaxation among the party vanished. Everyone raised their guard while Rys joined Margrim.
Beyond the door was a long corridor. A handful of dismantled skeletons lay on the floor, and they appeared to be missing chunks from their bones. At a glance, Rys knew that Margrim and his Ashen had used their hellfire.
Reaching out with his magic, he confirmed his suspicion. Necromancy. The ambient magic in the corridor was pervaded by the stuff.
Another mage was active down here, and they were substantially better than the last one that Rys had killed.