Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen: Chapter 34 Part 2 of 2
🕑 Added 2023-12-08 12:00:03 +0000 UTC“Sure,” Petor took out more maps and a heavy book.
Mya flipped through and then went to the middle.
The middle was made of card and popped out to create a large three dimension map of the city without all of the other towers, just the air tower.
At the top of the air tower there were several markers for air type dungeons the exterior dungeons were weaker, the ones in the center stronger. Down near the water gates it was like looking at a river delta, more of the dungeons around the gate and less as they moved into the city, though gaining in strength.
The earth dungeons were within the ring of four earth gates, becoming stronger in the center with a space between them all.
Above the fire gate the fire dungeons created an arrow aimed for the space between the earth dungeon and towards the air gate above.
“The sheer scale,” Desari shook her head. Ilus had been covered with inscriptions of all manner. Just to allow the city to transition locations once. This city was supposed to be able to do it multiple times. “Their mana usage would have been incredibly high. You think that each of these is actually a system. Overflowing with mana and power turning it into a dungeon.”
“Right on the nose,” Mya said.
“So we’re going dungeon diving,” Valter said. He let out a sigh and drank deep.
“Another first.” Petor drank from his beer.
Mya carefully closed the diagram of the city and turned the book to her, going to the table of contents.
“So we have an aim to track down the control system of the city. Though the contract is to find the person that’s doing it.” Desari put down the notebook she noted down the different elemental mana densities.
She flipped a page and made a graph to illustrate it.
“Someone is increasing the air element mana throughout the city and then the other elements are rushing to catch up.” She turned her graph to the others.
“They’re too constant and regular to be a phenomena. We have to find a group that have been doing something on these days. Then we have our noble that have been manipulating things.”
“You sure it’s a noble?”
“They would need the resources, information and mana to pull of something like this, and they must be looking for some kind of benefit. Else they would have gone to one of the academies or the Duke and sold this information on.”
“Someone that doesn’t understand what they’re doing,” Valter said.
“What makes you say that?” Desari asked.
“This is brute force. They’re not testing it out, they know it has an effect and they’re just repeating it. If it was the guilds, or the academies they’d be testing it out and learning. The sects would sell it as you said. Only the nobles would take this course of action,” Valter said.
“We know the dates where the spikes happened.” Desari traced between them.
“There’s a lot of people in the city, and nobles like to hide what they’re doing even if they aren’t doing anything too nefarious,” Petor said.
“Well thankfully we have some people to help with that,” Desari said. “We might not know the city, but Jaxus and his people are well established here and I am sure that Hedgewick will have his own sources of information.” Desari looked at Mya who looked up from a page she was reading.
“Of course. Though it sounds like we’ve got two tasks, one is to find out the noble and his group, turn them over to the Duke. The second is to delve into the depths of the island to find out how it ticks.”
“The two are mutual. Jaxus and Hedgewick work their angle and we work ours. There are a lot of people in the city and there are going to be different people and groups that line up.” She tilted her head at Petor. “If we can figure out just how they’re able to mess with the island’s mana then we can track down who they are quickly.”
“Well I think that we have our first dungeon dive.” Mya turned the book and tapped the page.
“The crumbling Chasm,” Petor read.
“It is one of the weaker dungeons, four areas that get bigger as you move in,” Mya traced the dungeon map. It was circular with the core in the middle, then four sections wrapping around. There were several entrances and rooms with paths to the interior. Each were cut off until they reached the central room.
Mya started at the exterior band. “Quicksand, Stalactites that fall from overhead. Soil sprites on the exterior that like to hurl mud, stones and hide. Second area is Terracotta warriors that form from the ground, blunt type attacks. Can work together. Third has Stone Drakes. They swim through the ground and then leap out to put their claws and teeth to work. Able to change the ground around them a bit. Last is a golem, its made from stones and gems, can use different attacks from his eyes.”
“How strong?” Valter asked, scanning the pages.
“The Golem is rated as a Yellow core,”
Petor drank from his beer. Be as strong as anything I fought in the last life.
“Once we kill the golem then we have to figure out how to get to the island’s control center.” Desari waved to the map. “If these are secondary systems and they’re all dungeons, won’t the control center be as well?”
Mya shrugged. “I think that’s a fair assumption.”
“Dungeons are close quarters and we’re going to have to rely on one another more than before,” Valter said. “Mya an Desari you’re our ranged fighters. You stay back from the fight, call out things as you see them. Petor and I on the front. If we get hit from two directions, Petor and I split. Desari supports Petor, Mya supports me. I think our attacks will synergize well.”
“If there are a lot of enemies and we have to block off an area I can use my plants to do that and alter the terrain to help us more,” Petor said.
“If I see a target of opportunity I’ll go for it,” Desari said.
“Fair.”
“The more bodies, the more fighters,” Mya said. “Though I’ll need some cover and time to raise them up.”
“What about non-humans?” Petor asked.
“If it has a soul then I can raise it. Dungeon created creatures don’t have a soul so I can’t bring them back. Most of the time they just come apart once their gem is shattered,” Mya said.
“Do we need anything for supplies?”
“Just need to get my armor on,” Valter said and took a deep drink of his beer. Petor nodded in agreement.
Desari pushed her beer over to Mya who was trying to peer into it.
She gave her a big wink and started chugging.
There was an excitement, and an acidic dread that swirled within Petor’s stomach, like lions and dragons fighting one another.
Every battle was just that, a battle, a fight to the death. No matter the opponent, no matter their level. A coreless individual could kill you as surely as a mythical dragon.
Mya finished off the beer with a sigh and slammed it on the table. “Shall we?”
They stood, chairs scraping before they pushed them back into place. Petor mentally ran through his gear and checked the notes on the dungeon.
Mya guided them through the streets, around the bases of the towers. Guards were in force, people giving them a wide berth.
Any that got too close were pressed upon by the guards cultivation. Orange and Orange flecked. Not a place for the weak.
“One of the more balanced cities between fighters and the crafters,” Desari said. “Usually crafters hold the strength in cities away from the fighting. Fighters have to hone themselves on the toughest of beasts and men.”
“The dungeons are probably the reason behind that,” Valter said. “What’s the strongest dungeon here?”
“Yellow mixed,” Petor said.
“So easy enough for someone to reach Green core here from just fighting and then sell the materials on to the crafters. They probably have an edge,” Valter said.
“They should have Dimantium ore here at the very least,” Mya said.
“Those are the highest level dungeons though, might have some but it’ll still be expensive and fighting with the different crafters in the city for it.”
“Fair.”
Petor studied the city around them, watching out the corner of his eyes.
The people were much stronger than others he’d seen. Those doing manual jobs hauled carts several times their size with ease.
Dozens of mages worked in concert together, creating a new tower from the ground.
Most fighter’s gear had at least one inscription on it.
“Has to be the richest city I’ve ever seen,” Petor said.
Someone passing too close to a guard was hit with the side of a spear with enough force to break a mortal man’s bone, throwing them into the road.
“Riches always go to the powerful,” Valter said.
The person picked themself up out of the road, limping away quickly.
Carriages tore through the city, drivers yelling at people crossing their path. People of the city kept their heads down and hurried to what they needed to do.
Petor raised his head and shielded his eyes, on the bridges a sea of color, people in colorful robes moved between towers.
The higher one went the better the clothes and gear.
Petor spat to the side, clearing the dirt taste from his mouth.
The towers dropped in height and fell away around a walled section. A fortress within the city.
The guards wore the same armor as those at the gates, several walked the walls of the fortress.
Shops selling all the gear that an an adventurer might need lined the street leading to the fortress, as well as several taverns.
A group of mercenaries wearing gear were outside one such establishment. Their leader sitting up on the back of a bench, a map on the middle of their table.
One tapped another with his elbow and pointed his chin at the approaching group. A round of chuckles rose up.
A wolf whistle cut through the air.
Petor and the others kept walking, coming level with the tavern, the last before the open ground to the fortress.
“Ah don’t be like that, going to get your pretty selves killed going that way.” The leaders said, getting off of his seat, the others moving to the street.
Thirty or so.
Valter had been teaching him how to don his armor pulling it from his storage. Petor ran through the steps mentally, checking everything around them.
No one said anything as they kept walking, a man reached out his hand for Desari.
Her sword appeared at her side as he flew back, his hand landed on the ground at the same time as her foot, he crashed into the wall, cracking the stone.
She looked directly at the leader. “Fuck off.” There was no rage, no annoyance, just a tired statement.
Mya’s smile was ugly, her fingers tapping out a tattoo on her sword and pistol’s handles.
Petor watched them, his body set and ready for a fight, they’d never broken their pace, walking for the fortress.
A snarl rose from a throat.
A wordless yell, they started to move, weapons drawn and readied.
Petor drew his armor from his storage, boots disappeared from his falling foot, replaced with one of darkened mithril. He opened his arms to the side, his breastplate wrapping around him, connecting and fusing. His leg guards similarly fused around his upper legs. Bracers and gauntlets ran up his hand and connected to his shoulders.
A green scarf wrapped around his neck and a helmet dropped onto his face. He finished his step, raising the other foot and pivoting, his remaining boot and leg guard fusing into place.
They solid heavy and thick weight entombing him as his shield appeared, locking to his arm bracers as he grabbed his shield from the air.
He stepped on the ground, calling his mana to his muscles, he exploded forth, Desari’s sword claimed limbs as Mya drew her falchion, using the wide guard with a skeletal face on it to punch those that got close, the side of her blade breaking bones.
Petor turned his spear, using the butt-end. He lashed out, cracking legs when he tried to sweep them and throwing people back, denting their armor when he hit their breastplates.
He stopped and looked over at Valter. He had a dark club with metal pins hammered into.
Mercenaries screamed and cried out, their faces white as they stared at bones that were sticking out in unnatural ways.
Blood stained the street.
“Hmm,” Valter’s grunt spoke of the group, and how they were found lacking in a single breath. Desari flicked her blade, the blood creating a line on the road.
Petor rose out of his crouch, he stored the spear and stepped back to the road, the others met him and they continued on their path to the fortress.
The guards shifted away from them as they walked through the gates. Though they didn’t move to arrest them or apprehend them.
They passed through a courtyard and to another fortress.
“Built to keep people out and keep the dungeon in,” Valter looked at the walls.
They reached another gate for the interior fortress.
“Two thousand gold per party,” A guard in a booth asked.
The price was written on a board next to his slatted opening.
“Pay me back afterwards,” Mya said and dropped several stacks of gold.
“Open the gate!” The guard yelled, sweeping the gold away.
Chains clinked and went tight, the wooden doors groaned and opened, a porticullis on the other side clicked as it rose higher.
They went through the tunnel, the gate and porticullis closing as soon as they were past. Eight sets of stairs dropped into the ground.
“That one looks good,” Mya picked one at random and started to descend.
Petor drew out his belt and new sling, pouches lined the belt with various kinds of ammunition, seeds and parts of harvested plants. He loaded up a piece of stormvine into his sling. He checked the rest of his gear, the others doing the same.
They stopped at a landing a doorway covered in an inscription.
“Strong enough to keep a Green out,” Valter studied it.
Petor blinked the darkness peeled back by eerie green. The room beyond looked like a maw, with sharp teeth of stone on the roof and floor.
“Ready?” Mya asked.
“Yeah,” Petor held his spear at his side, pointing forward. He glanced at the others, Mya’s eyes were ghostly white, Desari’s a shimmering purple, threads moving through the inscriptions on her armor, Valter’s smoldered within the darkness of his helmet, his runes glowing like the coals of a fire.
“Ready,” Valter said.
Petor looked at his shield, transparent emerald green flames filled the inscription, filled all of his inscriptions.
“Good,” Desari said.
“Lets go dungeon hunting.”
Petor stepped through the doorway next to Valter.
