“No!” Aldron yelled as it flew by, inches from his grasp. The gleaming artifact sailed through the room, seemingly destined to crash into the stone floor. Eric was doubtful that such a powerful item could be so easily destroyed, but with magic, one never knew. Perhaps fragility was the price for housing such overwhelming power. Whether it would have shattered or not was a question Eric would have to wait to learn the answer to, for it didn’t land on the floor.
The Bridge was snatched out of the air by a hairy, green-skinned hand belonging to a half-orc wizard who’d been pulling himself back up when a gleaming crystal came rocketing at his face. Grumph had barely enough time to register what it was he’d actually grabbed before he felt The Bridge break into his mind.
It was as if the whole world dissolved and then reformed, now made out of the same shimmering material as the artifact clutched in Grumph’s sizable fist. He could see the flow of magic running through the air to Aldron’s staff, to Thistle’s belt and armor, and to his own hands. He could sense the way the magic fit together, seeing it as not a series of symbols and gestures, but rather as an art meant to encapsulate the intangible. He could feel a pulse thrumming through the entirety of existence, a single undulating harmony that seemed to stretch back before time, and forward beyond the infinite. Grumph could also see the adventurers in the world, and Aldron was right: they were different. Something unnatural ran to their bodies, threads that reached past the veil of their reality and into a place that was strange and foreign. All of this Grumph experienced in less than a fraction of a second and then it was gone.
He realized two things upon coming back to himself: first was that it was no wonder Aldron had gone mad. Just that sliver of a moment had weakened Grumph’s grip on reality. The second thing Grumph realized, was that he was no longer confounded by the fifth spell in his book. His free hand swept through the air, carving symbols in the ether beyond mortal sight as words of power tumbled unbidden from his lips. With a final flourish, Grumph stuck out the palm of his hand.
“Rouse!” A blinding flash strobed from Grumph’s hand, forcing Aldron to hurriedly rub his eyes. As the word bounced around the room, the magic burst forth, flowing not at Aldron, who’d been braced for an attack, but rather to Thistle and Gabrielle’s slack forms on the floor. Their eyes leapt open as new energy poured into their bodies, and in seconds, both had scrambled up. Grumph knew it was only a temporary measure, not nearly as potent as Thistle’s healing. It would bring them back into the fight, though, and right now, that would have to be enough.
“Did I miss anything?” Thistle asked.
“Crazy wizard. Artifact gave him power. And I’m tapped.” Grumph struggled to keep his words steady even as a slight shake rippled through his body. That spell had taken a lot more power than he’d expected, more than he suspected he possessed. It was likely The Bridge had bolstered him a bit, but the aftereffects were already showing themselves. Grumph still pulled his bone-sword free with his off-hand. He might be out of magic, but he still intended to fight. The thought of magic reminded him of something else he’d noticed with his magic sight.
“Thistle, call your dagger,” Grumph instructed.
There was no time for further explanation, as Aldron’s vision had finally cleared, and the wizard wheeled around, staff at the ready. Fortunately, Thistle trusted his friend enough to take a few things on faith, so without hesitation, he let out the same quick call he’d used back in the arena. The dagger wedged in Aldron’s gut glowed briefly, then reappeared in the sheath of Thistle’s belt.
“Now, that is a handy gift.” He pulled the dagger free, along with its twin, and began circling, looking for an opening in Aldron’s defense.
“I don’t know how you’re all doing this, but I promise you’ll pay for it,” Aldron spat. He eyed the half-orc warily. The Bridge was hearty enough to withstand some rough handling; however, its power was both tremendous and unpredictable. As long as it was in an adventurer’s hands, there was no telling what effects might spill forth.
Aldron was so focused on Grumph that he nearly missed the red-armored blur racing toward him. As it was, he barely called up his magical shield in time to halt Gabrielle’s axe as it drove toward his face.
As soon as he halted the axe, Aldron felt a sharp pain in his back. The damned gnome had hit him with another dagger. On his left, the half-orc rushed forward, odd-shaped sword at the ready as he charged. It was clear Aldron wasn’t going to be able to beat them if he worried about The Bridge, so he closed his eyes, called forth a spell, and hoped it would all work out for the best.
Grumph saw the elven wizard shimmer as he approached, but he kept on coming. If he stopped every time a spell was cast, he’d never get anywhere. The half-orc swung his blade with every bit of strength he could muster, hoping to take the wizard’s head in a clean blow. Instead, the blade rang and produced sparks as it struck a tough, rocky exterior.
The first blow hit Grumph in his gut, taking his wind and remaining energy in a single strike. A second attack knocked the bone-blade from his hand, sending it clattering to the stone floor and nearly impaling Eric in the process. Grumph pulled The Bridge close as he sank to his knees, determined to keep it from Aldron for as long as possible.
“I’m sssssick of you,” hissed the seven-foot-tall monster that had once been Aldron. Its flat, serpentine head jutted out from a pair of broad shoulders, shoulders that, like almost all of its body, were coated in a thick, black armor that resembled stone. His form was humanoid, even though his arms did hang so low they nearly reached his knees and a thick tail sprouted from his rear.
Thistle lost no time hurling both of his daggers at its head, the only spot that seemed not entirely encased in armor. The first one managed to leave a gash on Aldron’s cheek, but the second bounced off a segment of armor near his brow.
A sharp ringing filled the air as Gabrielle hammered blows on the monster’s rough hide. The head of her axe chipped with every attack, yet she refused to relent, hitting again and again with everything she had. Aldron swept his claws at her; what had once been hands were now fingers ending in blades that begged to be coated in blood. She parried many of the blows, but a few landed on her torso. The demon-hide armor buckled against the force of the attacks, though it held intact. Whatever Aldron had turned into, it definitely didn’t carry the sort of blessing needed to easily rend demon flesh.
As their exchange continued, a careful, silent, human hand crept along the floor, grabbing a forgotten weapon in its desperate clutches.
Aldron switched tactics, slamming Gabrielle with his strength, rather than trying to cut through her armor. The axe-wielding girl managed to dodge several times, but unfortunately, Aldron had time and size on his side. Despite the constant peppering of daggers from Thistle, the monster kept on task and eventually broke through Gabrielle’s guard. He struck her square in the chest, sending her hurtling through the air and slamming into a wall.
As she hit, another blow was struck, this one not against Aldron, Gabrielle, or Thistle. The slight sound went unnoticed in the comparative din of her impact.
“Now that jussssst leavessss you, little gnome,” Aldron hissed. He leapt across the room, powerful legs carrying him over half-destroyed furniture. The landing left him a few inches short of Thistle, but Aldron merely leaned forward and grabbed the small paladin with his massive hands.
Thistle struggled valiantly against the claws pinning him to the floor. A wave of sour breath washed over him, and he realized Aldron’s face was mere inches from his own.
“You adventurerssss are all the same. Bold. Sssstupid. Carelesssssss.”
Thistle wasn’t certain if the serpentine “s” sound was intentional, or just a side effect of the form. Either way, it certainly wasn’t something that boded well.