“Amplifier?” I asked.
“Oh yes. You are standing before it. The roof is the antennae, and the soul crystal stores the power. It captures the energy from the lost souls in the area. It is this that keeps the swordsmen animated. High Elf magic. They are the ones who… No, another tangent. Wrong path. At night, the swordsmen are recharged. But Featherfall’s quarters are right across the way. When he cast the spell, I was manifested and brought into existence. But he was killed by the feedback. My wife, she planned this. She’d been planning it all along, her entire life. It was exactly what was supposed to happen. I was damned the moment I became her husband. I was now a capacitor for her. She pretended as if the magistrate was still alive, and she took up the duties of running the settlement. She was a powerful mage. She had a forgery spell. It fooled everyone.”
Mordecai: You guys are running low on time. Finish this and get out of there.
Carclass="underline" Almost done.
“And why did you bring the women in? The prostitutes?”
“Don’t… Don’t trip me up. You listen. We’re getting there. First, she took control of those fool elves. She cast an illusion, a resplendent skyfowl from legend to speak to them, pretend to be an angel, make them believe their tree god is coming for them. I could make them fly, manipulate things. The avatars, I mean. She never liked getting her hands dirty. So she used them. For intimidation. Corpse removal. My avatars. One looked like my son. My boy. Lost in time. But they couldn’t move far from here. So my wife instead sent the elves about on her task, to bring the women to us. These women just kept coming, searching for a better life. Over and over. Sometimes, I could see it in their eyes. They were like me. A tenner. Don’t get undead, they told us. Don’t get undead. It’s not worth it. Wait, ignore that.”
Getting him to stay on the subject was like trying to steer without a rudder. “Okay, but why did she bring the women to you?”
“For two reasons. My wife had grand plans, plans set forth long ago. But she needed help, help that couldn’t be fully accomplished by the city elves. The krasue are easy to control. Easy to make if you have the correct materials. They fly, and they are intact and compliant during the day. Plus the act of generating them creates a powerful spike of soul power, adding to my energy. And since the raw materials come from out of town, nobody would notice she was collecting them.”
“Somebody did notice. Gumgum noticed,” Donut said.
“So, you power up every time something dies?”
“Yes. And my position here allows me to also leech off the souls flowing into the crystal. My wife knew this, but even she couldn’t predict the sheer amount of energy. I can feel it. It is so much. Mana points. That feeling when you drink the potion, of the mana points flowing back into you, but it never stops coming.”
I felt a chill. I was finally reading between the lines. We needed to hurry this along. “So, your wife was building an army? Why?”
“She was a granddaughter of the royal family. Ambition soared through her. She was going to reclaim it all. But you killed her, and you found me. She dies, but I’m never found. But this time. I have been discovered. There was an orc, once. He found me. He killed me before I finished the story.”
“Focus, Remex. Tell me about Quill. When you say reclaim it all, what does that mean?”
“Oh yes, of course. The spell. I need to mention the spell. She was preparing The Final War. It is a three-part spell. Heirloom magic. First cast by her grandfather, then her mother, then she was to complete it. Like Scolopendra’s nine-tier attack that ruined our kingdom, she has prepared something that will reclaim the Over City for the skyfowl.”
“She was waiting to collect enough power before she could cast this spell, then?” I asked. “And she needed the army to do what? Protect her while she cast it?”
“That is correct. Before, during, and after. And the krasue would be her lieutenants, her eyes and ears for the battle. But she had enough power. More than enough. She’d already started. She did.”
“Wait, what would have happened if she’d completed the casting?” I asked.
“Oh, it is a glorious spell. The third and final act of The Final War is a long, dangerous spell that takes three nights to cast. She’d done the first. Was going to do the second tonight. Thousands. Thousands of mana points. Once completed, the beasts she unleashed would sweep across the Over City and slaughter all but those whose essence she has protected, those she added to the spell.”
“You mean the feathers?” I asked. “So, the skyfowl and midget skyfowl, whatever they’re called would be safe?”
“Chickadees,” Donut said. “I like those guys. They’re cute.”
“Yes,” Remex said. “Them and their entire families. Everyone else would perish.”
“Ahh,” I said. I looked at Donut. “Everyone would be dead except the flyers. We just stopped a genocide.”
“I guess that makes up for you killing all those baby goblins on the first floor,” said Donut.
“We’re not having this conversation again.”
Quest completed. The Sex Workers Who Fell from the Heavens.
“Hey, we didn’t even have to kill this guy,” said Donut. “And we didn’t have to blow up any more buildings tonight, either.”
Remex laughed. It was a dry, almost airless croak. “That’s it. That’s it. I did it. I did it!” The dry laugh turned to sobs.
“What is he talking about, Carl?” Donut asked.
“I’ll tell you later.” Pity swept over me. Jesus, I thought, watching the undead thing cry empty tears. “Remex. It’s done. You’ve told us the story. Do you want us to kill you or to leave you?”
“Kill me, let me live, it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter. With the sunrise, I will be gone. As you will be, too. Listen, boy. Don’t be sad. You didn’t know. It’s a lucky thing, a mercy to die here.” He pointed toward the ground with his wing. “And not make it down there. It is so much better. Wait with me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
The announcement wasn’t just in my head. It came over the loudspeaker, like the daily update.
New Quest. The Fools Who Broke the Glass.
THIS IS A GROUP QUEST. All Crawlers currently within the 45 square kilometer blast radius will receive this quest.
Your party has been designated Host of this Group Quest. As hosts, you will not be allowed to opt-out from this quest.
What the hell is going on? Am I glad you asked!
A while back a certain NPC started casting a very powerful spell, a spell so potent, that it had to be completed by a future generation.
Here’s the thing with old spells. They’re like trees. They grow. They get big. Sometimes huge. Bad shit happens when they get screwed up. The bigger the spell, the badder the shit. And boy was this spell big. Not gonna lie. Your favorite AI was looking forward to it going off.
Oh well. This will be almost as good.
Shit is about to go down. For example, you may have noticed every Skyfowl and Chickadee NPC in the area has fallen ill. Most of them have already plunged into a coma, or death. It’s not their fault, but they were tied to the spell, and that’s just the way it is.
Just like it’s not your fault that you happen to be within 45 kilometers of the fallout from this failed spell. Again, not your fault. (Well, unless you’re Crawlers Carl, Princess Donut, or Katia Grim. Then it is your fault.) That’s just the way it is. Sucks to be you.
There’s going to be an explosion. The epicenter of the blast is marked on your map. Every crawler within the designated blast area is fucked.
The object of this quest is simple. Unfuck yourself. Don’t die.