Magic Murder Cube Marine - Chapter 53: Bad to Worse

Once again, Francis found himself wishing for some good ISR capability and air support. He’d give someone’s left nut for a drone and a few hellfire missiles. Which gave the Marine an idea.

“Mac! I’ve got a job for you!” Francis called out to his familiar, choosing his words carefully. The demon cat had to do what it was told. But if he pissed Mac off, the creature wouldn’t hesitate to screw him over. “I’m riding east of Tiffany’s cottage to help Evandrel. He’s under attack by undead. Would you kindly scout the place out, and tell me what is going on?”

“Hmmm?” Mac purred, taking its time. “Perhaps… do you want me to kill anything?”

Francis almost said “yes”, but caught himself before he fell into the demon’s trap. “The rules of engagement stay the same.”

“Fine. I’ll take a look.” Mac grumbled. A few minutes later the demonic cat got back to him with an update. “Um, are you absolutely sure those aren’t our skeletons?”

“Yeah, why?” Francis felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Because, the magic powering them… is coming from Brexis.”

Francis swore, wondering if the forest had accidentally tripped the city’s defenses. “What other bad news do you have for me?”

“There is a second group of about two hundred undead circling around to attack from the south. It’s driving all the creatures of the forest north, like hunters beating bushes.”

The Marine didn’t need to be told why that was a problem. Most of the refugees were walking to Brexis along a road that bordered the forest. Creatures moving north would come out right on top of them. Even if it was just deer, the stampede would claim enough lives to sour relations between the refugees and the creatures of the forest for generations.

Francis updated everyone on the situation, his mind racing to find a solution. They were only minutes from the battle, and he needed a plan before they arrived.

The pounding of Chuck’s hooves mirrored the beating of Francis’ heart in his chest. The Marine exhaled until his lungs were empty, clearing his mind of everything except the task at hand. Then he breathed in through his nose for four seconds, and held it. As he slowly exhaled and repeated the process, a plan began to form.

“Evandrel, let us handle the undead. Here’s what I need you to do…”

***

Back home in Brexis, Willow was descending down into the depths of the mountain. She was unprepared, and didn’t know what to expect. But it was also her best chance of saving Francis. Because she knew he would rather die fighting than retreat. The Marine would happily trade his own life to keep those under his protection safe.

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As much as the Death Cleric wished she could be with Francis, it wasn’t like she would be of much use. It was quicker and easier to raise new undead than override their programming. So, her best bet was to go right to the source.

There were rumors about what was hidden in the heart of Brexis. Before the city was built, they had called it Dragon Fall Mountain. The assumption being that the fallout from killing an adult dragon was responsible for the blackened and blighted ground. But Willow had a problem with that theory.

Usually, the effects that lingered after a dragon was killed related to its magic. Red dragons left fiery hellscapes behind. Blue dragons became frozen glaciers. But the blight was necrotic in nature, so the idea fell apart.

Willow was sure that whatever was at the heart of the mountain, it was probably worse than an undead dragon (if such a thing was even possible). The founding necromancers had tapped it for use as a power source. If there was some way to control the city’s undead, that was where it would be. At least, in theory.

“Wait!” Shouted Hank as he ran after her, the kobold’s short legs moving furiously to keep up. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Been there, done that.” Willow replied, continuing to walk down the black stone hallway to the city’s central command node. The yellow arcane lamps set into the wall flickered as she passed.

Hank caught up and tugged on the Death Cleric’s robe. “You’ll kill everyone! Everyone!”

Willow stopped and fixed the lizard man with a piercing stare that seemed to auger through his eyes and out the back of his skull. “You know what’s down there, don’t you?”

Hank shook his head. “No. Nobody knows what evil lurks in the heart of Brexis. But I was able to get my claws on some of the design documents. They contained some very specific warnings about what would happen if the core was ever breached.” He pointed to the notes on his clipboard. “It’s not dead, it’s dormant.”

The arcane lamps at the end of the hallway began to flicker and go out. The darkness advanced towards Hank and Willow at a walking pace. The Death Cleric stood her ground as a wave of powerful necrotic energy washed over her.

A low dry chuckle echoed out from the darkness. “Do I look dormant to you?” It asked.