Gork dodged the golem’s first swipe. He raced sideways, stepping past two arrows. The golem stooped to pick up the magically-bound chrysalis containing Ruby’s body.
As the golem stood, raising the princess’s body up, Gork leapt into the blind spot under the chrysalis, and with all the strength of his forefathers and muscle born of decades of pounding metal with the hammer of the Hearthsworn, he drove the Dark Consul’s sword deep into the clockmaker’s golem’s belly.
White sparks arced from the clockmaker’s golem into the sword. The golem jolted. Its joints locked. Ruby’s body fell into Gork’s arms, and the golem tipped back with a thunderous crash.
It was done. Ruby’s body was safe.
Gork put one knee down and bowed his head. His heart thundered in his chest. Then over the cheers of the tonnerians, he felt another source of shaking.
Near the entrance, huge figures loomed in the semidarkness.
Nyan-Nyan sniffed the air, and the fur on her arms and back stood on end. “The gargoyles.”
The great stony creatures lumbered into the room, towering over Gork, Terras, and the tonnerians.
The few tonnerians remaining alive rallied together beside Gork and his friends. Their arms shook as their exhausted arms held their forearm shields in defensive poses.
Only three dozen tonnerians remained of the sixty-five that entered the tomb.
Torbin was not among them.
But the huge gargoyles did not attack.
“I don’t think they want to fight us,” Terras said. A wide grin spread across his face, an exhausted look of relief.
“Thank the Goddess,” Nyan-Nyan said. “Although, I’m still gonna clobber whichever one of those tried to step on my tail.”
Meeraz’s vertical slitted eyes turned from one side of the mass of hulking stone creatures to the other. “How did they get in? I thought the magical barrier that we crossed through would stop them.”
“It did,” Gork said. “But its source of magic is gone—we closed the portal.”
A gargoyle in the front of the assembly spoke. “You summoned us, Master of the Rubies.”
Gork looked around, realizing the gargoyle was speaking to him. “I . . . did?”
“We serve the Masters of the Rubies.” The voice of the second gargoyle was like a bellows breathing. “Where are the Keepers of the Rubies?”
Terras transformed and grabbed Gork’s arm. “He means the mages we rescued. They were tomb keepers. Their amulets must have controlled the gargoyles until the Dark Consul bound them to his sword.”
“But the Dark Consul’s barrier kept the gargoyles from finding the tomb keepers.” Gork’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, the tomb keepers are gone,” Gork said.
“But we were the last to use the rubies.” Nyan-Nyan looked around the few remaining tonnerians.
“And Gork used the master ruby in the Dark Consul’s sword.” Terras looked from Gork to the hulking creations. “It’s you they serve now.”
Nyan-Nyan elbowed Gork.
“Oh. Yes. Um, that’s me,” Gork announced. “I am the Master of the Rubies.”
The red flaming eyes and smoke-breathing mouths of at least thirty gargoyles appeared at the entrance of the cavern.
The largest gargoyle spoke slowly, his coal-red eyes riveted on Gork. “What is your bidding, Master?”
“Give me a second to catch my breath.”
“The task is complete,” reported a gargoyle. “May we sleep now?”
“No,” Gork said. “Not yet. Wait for my next order.”
The gargoyles stood still as stone.
“We’re alive,” Nyan-Nyan said, as if finally realizing the quest was over. “We’re alive!”
“But Torbin is slain,” said a tonnerian warrior. “Who is our new captain?”
All eyes turned to the silver-skinned cat with his arm draped around Nyan-Nyan, who had her arm wrapped around Meeraz’s waist and didn’t appear to want to let go any time soon.
“So much for independence,” Gork said out of the side of his mouth. “I think the Chaos Kitty has finally met her mate.” The Druid wolf gave a howl of laughter then transformed back into the familiar half-elf Druid.
The only light in the room came from the fallen rubies that gave off a dim red glow.
No. Gork turned to see the translucent casing that wrapped Ruby’s body. It gave off a greenish white luminescence similar to the bulbs of the Deeproot.
“What is this?” Gork asked. He knelt and ran his hand over the tightly bound vines. He tried to see through the semi-clear enclosure, but only glimpses of Ruby’s pink dress showed through.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Terras said. “I . . . sort of made it up. It’s meant to protect her body.”
“Stasis?”
“Of a sort. It will hold off decay for a while, perhaps long enough to return her body to the king. But she’s dead, Gork. Nothing can change that.”
Gork nodded, feeling a tear run down his cheek and soak into his beard. Soon, his entire body was racked with sobs. Great tears rolled down his face as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the princess’s white tomb.
“Come on.” Strong tonnerian paws lifted him to his feet. “We have to get out of here before the Midnight Queen brings reinforcements.”
“She’ll need a spawning point for that,” Terras said. “But this portal was probably fueling all the nearby spawning points. This branch of the Thorn will be cut off from her access for some time. But in any case, we should not stay.”
And I shouldn’t leave that sword behind either.
Gork walked up to the golem and reached for the sword embedded deep in its clay belly.
“No!” Terras lunged and pulled Gork back. “Leave it.”
Gork gave him a confused look.
“You can’t kill a golem by stabbing it—only by destroying its eye.”
Gork looked at the fallen clockmaker’s golem. “Then why isn’t it moving?”
“A golem requires a spark of magic to ignite its clockwork mechanism. The magic-sapping sword is too large a load and so the igniter can’t wake it up.”
“You mean Daemonus is still alive?”
“Yes.” Terras’s eyes narrowed. “And so are its memories.”
“What do you mean?”
“The eye of the golem—the gem in its forehead—records everything the golem has seen. If we can find a gnome with the right skills, we might be able to retrieve what it has seen. We could find Amethyst.”
“Does it matter?” Gork said. “Ruby is dead. The prophecy cannot be fulfilled, even if we find the fifth princess.”
“I don’t know,” Terras said. “I wonder if perhaps this was Ruby’s part. Perhaps she has done all she was meant to do.”
“But how can the Dark Consul be defeated with only four princesses—three without Amethyst.”
“What would Ruby want?” Terras asked.
Gork gave a nod. “She would want us to find her sister. All right. We’ll have to get the golem to Crystalia Castle.”
“Just how are we going to haul that thing out?” Meeraz asked. He looked up and saw the army of waiting gargoyles. “Oh.”
“Protectors of the tomb,” Gork shouted. “Awake!”
Nothing happened.
“Use fire,” Terras reminded.
Gork retrieved a smoldering bit of leather and reached up to wave it in front of a gargoyle’s nose.
It sniffed. Then its eyes opened.
“Who dares wake—”
“It’s me again,” Gork interrupted. “Wake the others and carry this golem out of the tombs, but do not disturb my sword lodged in its belly.”
“As you wish.”
“And when you’re done,” Gork added. “Find every scrap of metal armor and weaponry in the catacombs and take it out of the tombs as well.”
“A cleansing?”
“Yes,” Gork said. “We must make room in the crypt for the slain tonnerians.”
“Great warriors?” it asked.
“Yes,” Gork said. “great warriors all. They must be honored with the kings of old.”
The gargoyle spoke in a tongue unknown, and the red eyes of the gargoyle army opened one by one. One gargoyle dragged the golem by its stiff legs. Others lifted slain tonnerians, cradling them in their great arms like infants.
Gork did not trust the body of Ruby to the gargoyles. He carried the wicker-like casket upon his back as he followed his gargoyles out of the cavern.
The great iron gate had been broken through, and Gork retrieved his long ax. He lifted Ruby’s body again, feeling that terrible weight once again, and followed the long funeral procession through the maze of pillars. This time, by the torch-like light of the flames in the gargoyle’s mouths, Gork inspected several of the fallen pillars and realized they were not solid rock, but stacks of tightly fitted stones, enclosing the bones of ancient warriors.
The procession followed the perimeter of the maze, passing crypts where the mummified bodies of kings and their treasures lay in deep nooks.
Following Gork’s orders, gargoyles reached into each nook and claimed swords with gemmed hilts and plate armor still gleaming after centuries of neglect. These were clearly the product of ancient magic and would hopefully give the Hearthsworn forges enough material to reverse engineer the magic.
The weapons were just the beginning of the treasure. The gargoyles carried anything made of metal or mounted in it: gemstones set in ceremonial headpieces, gilded cups, crowns, jeweled scepters—all gifts for the departed kings and queens, along with their most loyal.
Now that’s loot, Gork thought. Most of the gems, though, would go to the tonnerians, he decided. Their army was greatly weakened by the loss of so many warriors. The wealth of the tombs would buy them food and protection from neighboring realms.
The weight on Gork’s back never lessened as he ascended the sloped spiral. Each step levied the pain of his broken heart.
A gargoyle stepped on the sigil of death on its way out of the tomb’s entrance. The stone rune cracked in a dozen places, but the mark on Gork’s hand remained.
He had not cheated death. Death had cheated him. With a shudder and a tear, Gork wished that he could go back and trade his life for the princess’s. The fact that he could not made it all the worse.
As he emerged into the sunlight, surrounded by a powerful army of gargoyles and the wealth of the Blasted Tombs, Gork realized what he had to do.
He set down Ruby’s casket of fused vines and snagged the Chaos Kitty by her arm, pulling her away from Meeraz. “Nyan-Nyan, I’m sending you back to the Frostbyte Reach with the weapons and the gargoyles. Together, these will make a great addition to our army. The stone men will only obey those who wielded the rubies—those who gave their life force to close the portal.”
“The tonnerians,” Nyan-Nyan guessed, “and me.”
“Yes, you and the others must take the gargoyles and the armaments from the crypt back to my people in the Dwarfholm Bastion. If the freyjan and Hearthsworn join together, with rune-scribed weapons matched to our foes’ and the help of these tomb protectors . . . we might succeed.” Gork put his hand on the Chaos Kitty’s shoulder. “Nyan-Nyan, the defense of the Frostbyte Reach is in your hands—er, gauntlets.”
Nyan-Nyan nodded, and a brave smile crept onto her face. “I did it. We did it—I have an army!” She gave a leap and spun in the air, raising her fist to the sky.
“And you didn’t even collapse the Blasted Tombs,” Terras said to the Chaos Kitty. “Maybe . . . your curse is broken.”
“But I’m still lucky,” Nyan-Nyan said, making eyes at Meeraz. She pressed her finger to his nose playfully.
“Well, there’s always a first for everything,” Meeraz said. Before Nyan-Nyan tried to punch him in the gut, she was snagged by his strong arms and wrapped in a great hug.
The other tonnerians, seeing the hug, joined it, thronging their new leader Meeraz and his mate Nyan-Nyan in a group hug and a chorus of meowing and purring, each singing out the sorrow of their loss and the joy of their slim escape.
Then, as the moment passed into solemnity, the tonnerians rejoined the procession, moving in silence among the repetitive thumps of the gargoyles’ heavy feet until the company was all clear of the collapsed wall of bones and the Blasted Tombs were no longer in sight.
Gork collapsed on the sand as the sun dipped toward the horizon.
His mission had been to find steel from before the dark times—something to aid his people’s defense. In that, he had succeeded. Perhaps even better, an entire branch of the enemy’s spawning points in Arcadia had been temporarily cut off. And Nyan-Nyan would return to her people, not only with a mate, but with a powerful army of gargoyles. Gork also had the sword of the Dark Consul, though it was stuck in the belly of the golem and could not be removed.
But all that felt small compared to the one truth he could not escape.
Ruby was dead.
How had the Goddess let this happen? How had she not protected the princess?
Had Gork failed the Goddess? Was he a failure to all the Hearthsworn?
The prophecy is undone.
Nearby, Nyan-Nyan leaned against Meeraz’s chest. “Are you coming with me to the Frostbyte Reach?”
“Of course,” Meeraz said. “We’ve dealt the Midnight Queen a hard blow in Arcadia. We can’t let up now.”
“Then you are an ambassador of Tonneria to the Frostbyte Reach,” Terras said. “No longer are your prides separated.”
“Independence was good,” Nyan-Nyan said. “. . . but meh, it’s gone.” Nyan-Nyan looked at Meeraz and purred deeply. Meeraz blushed to the tips of his silver-haired ears.
“What about you, Terras?” Gork asked.
Terras bowed his head. “I told the king I would return with his daughter. I will finish . . . what he asked of me.” The last words came out broken, choked with emotion.
New tears climbed into Gork’s eyes. “The journey is long and dangerous. I will go with you.”
“I cannot ask that of you,” Terras said. “It would only bring you grief.”
Gork put his hand on Terras’s shoulder. “Your mission is my mission. I will not leave you alone.”
“The problem is the golem,” Meeraz said. “How will you transport it?”
“I do not wish to take any of the gargoyles from Nyan-Nyan,” Gork said. “She will need all of them and more.”
Terras felt at his belt and lifted a stoppered vial. A small amount of pink potion swirled at the bottom. “Guess I missed some.” He looked up at Gork.
“Care to try a bubble again?” the dwarf asked.
“I’ll drink to that.”
Nyan-Nyan, Gork, and Terras gave desperate laughs. The half-elf Druid and dwarf made their goodbyes, promising to send word as soon as they could.
Terras tipped up the bottle and swallowed the remaining liquid.
Placing the chrysalis on top of the golem’s legs, Gork grabbed Terras’s hand and took the golem’s great hand in his other. Terras completed the circle, drew a breath, and blew.
Swirls of green mingled with the pink of the bubble as it swelled, enveloping Gork, Terras, the golem, and Ruby. Moments later, the rarefied balloon rose over the desert, carrying Gork swiftly away from the brave tonnerians on the desert sand.
Nyan-Nyan and the tonnerian survivors waved solemn goodbyes as the sun set in the distance.
“The bubble should last longer at night,” Terras said. “We might make it to King Jasper’s kingdom where we can find a wagon.”
“If we’re lucky,” Gork said.
Terras laughed. “Goddess knows we could use some of that.”
Gork nodded. He put one hand on the princess’s casket of bound vines and lay down beside it, lost in emotion, reliving the greatest moment of his life, one he would never forget—the kiss of a princess.