"Sahaaaala. Hassssashis."
Huh? I woke up in the hunters' tent, literally jumping with surprise. What the? The sensation of an attack began to dissipate rapidly, giving way to reality. Quiet and calm. I didn't curse out loud so as not to disturb anyone, only sighing to myself:
"Just a dream. Great. Hilarious."
It was night; outside it was quiet, and in the tent, the breathing of its two other inhabitants was barely audible. But in my memory, the image of a snake was etched. Huge, bigger than any boa, with short wings, large glowing yellow eyes, and many teeth. A truly large snake, a couple of dozen meters long, and a pulsing sense of danger.
The snake crawled among the ruins, hissed, licked its lips, and seemed to be tightening its coils. All while continuing to say something in a language unknown to me. A red moon shone in the black sky, illuminating the ruins. And when the snake lunged, I woke up.
I looked around again, already realizing it was just another nightmare. A new place, an uncomfortable bed, unfamiliar smells—basically, all the charms of a field camp again. I hadn't had such garbage in my dreams before, though. The dream just evaporated. But I had no desire to get up. So I'd just lie there; maybe it would pass. Besides, if I started moving, the others might wake up. I'm a Mage; they're used to reacting to any rustle. I might catch an arrow or a bullet in the forehead. That would be the most ridiculous isekai death possible. No thanks, I'd rather endure the discomfort than end up like that.
"Nightmares, damn them," I whispered with just my lips so as not to wake anyone.
Still, it was my problem, not anyone else's. I could complain all I wanted, but only to myself. All that remained was to endure and hope they'd go away sooner or later. Also, the bed was hard, but that was perhaps the only real inconvenience in my situation. The food was varied and good, with meat and alcohol. The local hunters didn't just exterminate wildlife; they also shuttled to the nearest town for spices, ale, mead, and other little comforts of life. The people here were friendly and pleasant. So the bed was the main and only drawback. I took one last look around before falling back asleep. It didn't happen immediately, but eventually, I'd manage to sleep, I was sure.
Beside me, Venidan and another of the hunters, a Human girl, were snoring. I was a bit jealous of her. After all, Humans have access to more muscle and fat on their frames. So their curves are in perfect order. No, I get it, I have tasks here, I need to survive. Но that doesn't mean I don't want to look good, okay? And when all Elves are universally beautiful in the face—and that's a fact—all other parameters decide the rest. And I'm… well, it's all bad.
I even lose to Venidan here. I realize I'm twenty and she's a hundred. Which, in the case of an Elf, means the difference between 13 and 20 years, roughly. If translated to Human terms. It's not quite right—Elves age non-linearly—but that scale is closest to reality. Doesn't matter. In any case, I'm jealous. Realizing that I'll never achieve the same curves as a Human, and that I'll only reach Veni's level in fifty to a hundred years, doesn't make the situation any easier. I don't want to be a fetishist's dream, and no one can prove me otherwise.
Anyway, let's not dwell on the sad stuff. I need to try to sleep again.
Dark ruins. A scarlet moon reflecting a huge black symbol. A huge snake with huge teeth.
"Valihasssdaxss."
I jumped again, cursing to myself. It was still night. I turned at a movement to my left, almost sending an icicle there, but lowered my hand. The last thing I needed was to start blasting my own people while half-asleep.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that."
In response, the Rogue who had moved let out a short chuckle.
"DaVi, why are you twitching? Scared to sleep alone? Come here, I'll comfort you," the hussy whispered just loud enough for me to hear.
I sighed, looking into Venidan's quite conscious eyes. She patted the blanket beside her; I showed her my middle finger in response. Some gestures are universal after all.
"In your dreams. And yeah, the previous times were fine. I don't know what the problem is."
She smirked and flopped back onto the pillow.
"Go to sleep. I don't want to catch an icicle because the Mage is havin' hallucinations from sleep deprivation. Right, DaVi?"
You think it's funny, but I don't. As soon as I fall asleep, I hear the rustle of scales on stone, quiet breathing, and hissing words in an unknown language. And a sense of threat, of hunger. And it's not like ordinary nightmares at all. A second time, and then a third.
Naturally, in the morning, I was sleepy and cranky. Moderately sleepy, but very cranky. But I didn't turn down the soup for breakfast. It was good, a rich broth with meat and bread. Filling, and it lifted my mood a bit.
Actually, it was just soup, no joke. The pieces were chopped a bit larger, but otherwise, it was the same products, even if they were called something else. The sour cream was the same; the bread had its own taste, but that was likely a quirk of the local rye. Or wheat, or whatever it was made of. The vegetables were also quite recognizable in taste. Though I admit I'm just not familiar with medieval cuisine or the cuisine of this region. With Elves, it's a bit more familiar, somehow. They have their own specifics too, but a berry pie tastes exactly the same. So I'd say the cuisine is similar, but with its own specifics. That's my conclusion.
"Delicious, thank you," I nodded, setting aside the bowl.
The man gave a slight bow in return.
"And I thought you'd turn your nose up at it," the cook noted.
An ordinary Human, like all the local Humans—broad and quite buff. And his portions were such that Venidan and I split one in half and it was enough for both of us. Veni looked at him suspiciously.
"Why? What's wrong with the food?"
The cook scratched the back of his head with his "oar." Yeah, their hands are like that...
"Well, you look wealthy, and..." with every word, he doubted his own words more, "a whole carriage of things with ya. Escort, too. Thought you wouldn't appreciate the grub. But here we are."
Wealthy—he clearly meant me; "escort"—he meant Venidan. We exchanged looks. The Rogue snorted; I smiled, genuinely amused. The cook seemed to be looking at us through Human eyes. And by Human standards, compared to the cook, we were indeed well-dressed, especially me in my robe; Veni, after all, wore more "field" gear, like Heavy Leather. And she looked a bit wild and… dashing, maybe? She sort of says to you: "Got any money? What if I find some?" She might even lick a knife just to make an impression.
And I was dressed in fine fabrics; magic does a good job of protecting against dirt. I'd spent a fair amount of time in the morning tidying myself up (yes, that's something I had to learn if I wanted to look good). But then, the hunter girl from our tent did too. Hmm, maybe it really was the clothes. By a Human's standards, I really might look like a rich kid traveling with an escort. Even if it was just one older Elf. I should probably explain; it's better to be friends with the cook.
"Actually, you're mistaken. I'm from a village, a Mage's apprentice. That's why I have access to good materials, that's all. And I have good parents. But Venidan..."
She immediately clamped her hand over my mouth, looking into my eyes with annoyance. Right, her lineage is much better than mine. True, by joining the army, she'd stepped away from family affairs, but that doesn't change the fact. She's at least of wealthy blood, though I don't know (she doesn't say) exactly which. It seems my attitude suits her perfectly. Maybe she thinks that if anything happens, I'll start addressing her with all due respect and by title. And I will, but not out of politeness, but to annoy her, heh-heh. Anyway, Venidan, looking me in the eye, demanded:
"Ranger, DaVi. I'm a Ranger," and explained to the man, "The situation is the same. It's just that DaVi studies under a Mage; she has talent. And I'm training for agility under our officers. And because of that talent and training, we have access to better things. That's all."
I nodded, supporting my friend.
"That's right. And magic, of course—can't do without that. I had etiquette training, but more on how to behave around 'your lordships' rather than as one of them. So it's all fine."
The cook grew even more embarrassed but became noticeably more talkative. Since we weren't "your lordships" but one of their own—simple workers. Before long, we easily moved to a first-name basis, and the conversation began to flow.
The cook turned out to be a local and a literal goldmine of useful information. He told us about Stratholme, which in his opinion was a "huge stone city with high walls and many inhabitants." However, he wasn't strong in mathematics, so he didn't know exactly how many people lived there.
He also mentioned that searching for the magical plague wouldn't be an easy task.
"Well, you see, sickness happens in villages. Whether it's wicked Biotics users or just some foolishness, who's to tell? People say whatever they think. The Paladins know for sure, though. The Order of the Silver Hand, that's who they are. If evil truly has taken root, they'll handle it. Or they'll send Priests to help. They'll sort it out, one way or another."
Well, yes, I recalled Arthas and Uther didn't exactly spend their time in that region growing flowers. First Orcs, then Necromancers—fun until you drop. I decided to clarify one more point; maybe it would be a hint about the future?
"Are there Orcs here?"
Venidan immediately looked at me with interest.
"Orcs here? Did any remain outside the reservations after the war? I thought the Demonic magic they were pumped with wore off, and they became calmer... or am I mixing things up?"
The cook sighed.
"Orcs remained. There are tribes, the wildest and most cruel. They hide in the forests, steal and kill people, and sacrifice them to those very Demons. There are those sitting in reservations, too, but these wild ones have drunk a lot of honest folk's blood. Hard to wipe them out."
What interesting information. And contradictory. It seemed people in this region had plenty of problems. Trolls, wild beasts, stray Orcs, diseases. And until things came to a head, no one would likely even know. And once the Undead started crawling out, they'd have plenty of material to work with. All in all, a lot of food for thought. Fortunately, Venidan was better with social interaction, so seeing my interest, she questioned the cook in more detail. When he got distracted, she quietly clarified:
"What are we finding out and why?"
Ah, right, I hadn't told her... On the other hand, the last Elf I gave information to ended up a bit dead. In short, I don't know?
"Listen, Veni... The information is important, but potentially lethal. Can I just not..."
My shoulder was gripped gently but firmly. Venidan hissed in my ear:
"I'm following you into all sorts of holes here. I have a right to know what we're getting into. I remind you that unlike some people, I am an adult. And I can simply tell your mother that you're crawling into another dangerous hole and not telling anyone. Spill it."
Oh, great. Except I still don't want you to die by accident. But I also realize I won't be able to talk my way out of it; Veni knows me.
"When I tried to tell her, Trolls suddenly attacked. Exactly at that moment. When I told the Teacher, he died a day later. I have reasons to doubt. I'll regret this, but I didn't want anything like that to happen to you."
The Rogue looked into my eyes. Directly and confidently, without smiles or smirks.
"Worried, hm? Thanks, but I'm the one covering you. I'm helping you. And I want to know what kind of hole you're planning to crawl into, DaVi. Because I'm going in after you, and it would be good to know where beforehand. Well?"
Fine, fine, I get it. Gods witness, I hope she survives this.
"If a stone falls on your head, I warned you. A dark cult plans to raise an Army of Undead. I don't know exactly when or how. There's only general data. The source is Necromancers who will infect the food, turning people into Undead. That's all I have. Just general information and the fact that it will happen in this region."
Venidan listened and remarked:
"Sounds rather vague, you know."
I nodded.
"I know, and I also know that everyone I've told anything to dies suspiciously fast. And I'm hellishly short on information, which is why I wanted to find out more. I don't think we'll find the Cult of the Damned itself, but maybe there will be rumors. Or that very epidemic."
If we could manage to kill Kel'Thuzad, that would be good. And if after killing him, we burned his body and scattered the ashes to the wind so Arthas had nothing to resurrect, that would be even better. As a ghost of Hamlet's father, he would be far less dangerous than as the Archlich of Naxxramas.
But that's all pure theory. The problem is that Azeroth, curse it, is huge. This isn't the game where you can fly from Silvermoon to Lordaeron on your own in fifteen minutes. As a result, I know, for example, that Scholomance exists. But I don't know if it's already operational or where it's located. What, excuse me? On an island in the middle of a lake? Congratulations, there are at least a dozen such lakes here, scattered across a territory the size of a couple of provinces.
Feasible, but who's going to let me go on such a blind search.
The Rogue thought for a moment and nodded slowly.
"Alright, I understand. Then when we're done here, we can go listen to rumors in Stratholme. It'll be a mass epidemic, right? If so, rumors will spread either way. I think in a tavern, or at the market, there will be talk somewhere."
Well, that's an idea.
"Thanks, Venidan. I appreciate it."
She smirked, replying in a whisper as well.
"Don't mention it. You might be stronger than me as a Mage, but when it comes to listening, I'm better. And in some other things," she brazenly ran a hand over her bust, emphasizing her size three chest, "I see everything."
Fine, I get you. I didn't reply, of course. Let her have her fun.
Well, after breakfast, we visited the upper floor of the Troll temple for the first time. An interesting experience. You slowly climb the temple steps to a height of ten (and in large temples, probably dozens) of meters, as if ascending to the sky, to the spirits. On both sides of the stairs are stone braziers with patterns depicting spirits, monsters, and likely Troll heroes. And behind you, under your feet, remains the city of the living. A stairway to heaven, so to speak.
Interestingly, from the inside, the temple resembles a bottle. That is, the entrance is at the top, with stairs leading down, numerous halls, and so on. Due to the stepped structure and thick walls, although the outer part of the temple bears the marks of battle, the interior is looted but quite intact. It's also full of traps and such. There is only one breach at mid-height leading into the depths of the halls. It's dark, quiet, and cool there. On one hand, the building is abandoned; on the other, time hasn't fully taken its toll yet.
Our guide was Monty Blunderbuss. The Dwarf is arrogant, but he knows his business. Fortunately, this time none of us were making noise. I was levitating, while the Rogue and the Mgalekgolo walked almost silently. You'd think otherwise, but a Mgalekgolo isn't just a Warrior.
"Watch where you step. The Trolls left a whole bunch of dirty tricks behind. Even now, despite us not being the first expedition here, there might be something that didn't go off. A hatch might open and you'll fall ten meters down. By the time we pull you out, you'll be eaten. Or you'll get impaled on spikes. Or just kill yourselves. Anyway, watch where you're going."
As he spoke, the Dwarf walked easily, not looking around at all, as if it were perfectly safe. Venidan, holding her bow ready, clarified:
"What kind of dirty tricks are we talking about?"
The Dwarf coughed before speaking. The cough echoed hollowly in the empty halls. Then he gave a whole speech that boiled down to "I have no idea, there could be anything from simple ancient mechanisms to unstable plates and wild beasts, just watch your feet."
Which we were already doing. And I was levitating, just to be sure. The area didn't look safe in any case. Neglected, partially overgrown. What the looters hadn't taken, time had claimed. Along the walls, one could find jars, furniture. On the walls were drawings...
I stopped in surprise, examining a bas-relief on the wall. It depicted a multi-armed Troll, somewhat blocky, but that was just the art style. Huge, in strange clothes, surrounded by drawings of snarling maws. He sat on a massive throne, marking him as a ruler or a god. At his feet were tiny warriors with spears and other figures kneeling, even smaller than the warriors. And over these figures loomed a giant snake with leathery wings and a wide-open, toothy maw. Between the snake and the figures was a sign: two diamonds connected vertically by a line crossing them, with the top part of the upper diamond cut off. The serpent was lower than the ruler, but its intentions were obvious—it was ready to fall upon those kneeling and devour them. Above the bas-relief was a circular hole, about a meter or a meter and a half in diameter. Ventilation? A cold, damp draft came from it.
And the sign, apparently, meant sacrifice. Something like that surfaced in my memory, but I couldn't say exactly what it was right away.
"Sacrifice."
The Dwarf stopped beside me and shrugged boredly, looking at the image. He had approached quietly; I startled slightly. Ninjas everywhere, sneaking up on me.
"Are you sure?"
Monty nodded.
"These are Trolls, what's there to be surprised about? Blood, sacrifices. They've always done it. Let's go already."
I grimaced, continuing to examine the image. Or rather, the serpent.
"I dreamed about this snake all night."
The Dwarf looked skeptical; Venidan looked worried.
"This exact one?" the agile girl tapped the drawing with her fingers.
I nodded.
"Every time I fell asleep, I saw it. This one. And no, I hadn't seen it here before. This snake and this symbol."
Now all four of us were staring at the drawing. The three of us and the snake that peeked out of the hole. A huge snake with glowing yellow eyes, emerging from the hole in the wall. Oh, shit...
We all reacted simultaneously. On pure reflex, I raised a mana shield, which the aforementioned snake immediately slammed into, wrapping its maw with numerous teeth around it and clenching its jaws.
My shield was cylinder-shaped; the snake was so large it could wrap around this cylinder from two sides, turning its head sideways. Everything inside me tightened, but I had to hold on. A mana shield is magical energy roughly compiled into a wall. If you don't doubt, it won't break the shield until the mana runs out. The Mage's will is a very important component of the spell. If you don't doubt... How can you not doubt when teeth ten centimeters long are grinding against the shield just twenty centimeters away from you??? This is freaking terrifying! Take an icicle! And more ice, lots of it! So you can't close your maw with a block of ice in your throat!
On pure reflex, I exhaled a cone of frost directly into the maw, and the snake recoiled, shaking its head, in which a whole block of ice had frozen, just as I wanted. Immediately, an arrow bounced off the snake, and a bullet ricocheted with a bang, tearing out flesh. Both shooters had already drawn their weapons, discharging them at point-blank range. A familiar Elven dagger stuck out of one eye of this giant boa. The snake ignored the shots; moreover, it tried to pull back into the wall. Its head with the wide-open maw (because of the ice) wouldn't fit, causing the snake to hit the edges of the hatch and crawl back out, looking at us resentfully with its yellow eyes. A shot thundered, the hide at the point of impact exploded, but the serpent only shook its head more furiously.
It tried to lung at Venidan, but fortunately, the Rogue was agile and rolled aside. Then the Dwarf and I added our own attacks. But it was still too little. The snake swung its head once more, scattering us and trying to retreat into the tunnel. Unsuccessfully—the block in its mouth was in the way.
"Stay!" I exhaled another cone of cold, freezing the wall.
The snake was partially fixed; the hatch, the wall, everything was hidden under a layer of magical ice, further hindering our target's movement. Venidan giggled:
"What is it with men, pulling out their snakes at the first opportunity? And whose is this, huh?"
Uh, really not the time. Especially since the snake, after some twitching, tensed up, trying to break free from the icy trap. Which everyone noticed.
"Push it!" the Dwarf cheerfully raised his rifle.
I prepared a Fireball. But the serpent showed considerable intelligence. It arched and slammed its head against the frozen wall—sideways, so it hit with the ice rather than its skull. The icy restraint cracked, crumbling and revealing the wall. Even worse, the block of ice that had prevented the snake from closing its maw and retreating into the pipe also broke. Chunks of ice along with several teeth fell from its maw, which our enemy was shaking furiously.
I tried to repeat the freezing, but recoiled from the beast's sudden lunge. Reflexes are reflexes, and it was huge. Since the snake lunged with its maw closed, I couldn't freeze another block inside it.
The snake hissed at us, and after receiving more bullets and a Fireball, it finally pulled back into the pipe. Venidan cursed. After that, silence fell. The ice cracked quietly; some sounds echoed in the background, the wind hummed slightly in the empty halls. But otherwise—silence. Except for the partially frozen wall, a few teeth, and chunks of ice, nothing remained of what had happened.
"What kind of overgrown serpent is that?" Venidan exhaled. "Is that the target, then?"
Monty chuckled, nodding.
"That snake, as you called it, came out of the pants of a Troll Loa. Those guys are like patron gods to them. I don't know much, but apparently, they were all Trolls who, through rituals and their magic, sort of died but sort of didn't. And since they're dead, they can't be among the living. So they come up with all sorts of things, like this snake. And other Trolls pray to it and want to become like their patron. Well, that's how I understand it. Heming knows more about this. Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if this temple was built for that snake. And we're here to kill it. That's all."
In short, we went back. Enough adventure for now. The good news—no one tried to eat us again. We told Heming about the attack, and he agreed.
"The locals have known about this snake for years. That's why they didn't clear the temple last time. Back then, that bastard ate several soldiers. Without specialists, they didn't stand a chance. Since then, the serpent has lived here, eating passers-by. And now its turn has come."
I understand. This creature is huge, and in the tunnels and guts it roams freely through, just try to catch it. If anything, it'll hide, and that's that. Or it can attack through hatches in the walls and floor, through holes. We walk on the floor (or levitate). But through the ventilation...
It hit me like a sack of bricks! Droideka! Or a Dwarven sphere. With access to a forge, I could well build something similar. In travel mode, the golem would be small, passing through such a hatch and taking up little space. In deployed form, it would be either a standard combat golem or (given their general stupidity) a crossbow or some other shooting turret.
Recent tests showed that teaching a golem to lead a target is easier than teaching it to swing a melee weapon. In theory, a magic tower could be made, but without a proper storage crystal, this turret would discharge almost instantly. Although, if such a mechanism were placed in a magic tower or near another magic generator, it would work. All in all, an interesting idea that requires careful thought.
While I indulged in my research itch, descending the temple steps, Monty, Heming, and Venidan discussed what was happening. I wasn't really listening, thinking about my own things and just being present.
"What if we flood the tunnels with magical fire?" Venidan asked.
Heming smirked.
"Tried that, the serpent survived. Probably hollows or other exits there. We need bait and a trap so the snake doesn't get away. Then we take it with fire and bullet. Need to think. Think, not rush."
While our leadership was "thinking a thought," we occupied ourselves with clearing the surrounding forest of aggressive fauna in the company of hunters. Or rather, the hunters did, and I launched the repaired bird (thanks to Monty's wife; that Dwarf woman is a very capable blacksmith) to both practice and search for targets from the air.
What can I say about the terrain? Excluding the ruins—a typical deciduous forest. Given that I'm still not a botanist, it's just a forest; I saw plenty like it in my past life. But the local fauna is another matter. Ordinary sheep, cows, and horses coexist with various types of lizards, huge turtles, Murlocs (traditionally built a village on the lake; from the air, it looks like beavers), snakes, and even a hydra in the lake. A three-headed beast the size of a large horse, spitting water projectiles. So I'm mapping the territory and marking where everyone lives. And the junior hunter teams look at the map, planning their routes. And they bring back trophies, or wounded, as it goes.
I also placed mines around the camp. And not for nothing. The snake returned. Once it tried to approach the camp, hit a mine, got singed, and crawled back. Very quickly; the hunters didn't even have time to react properly. And the troubles didn't end there.
"Mage over here!"
I looked up from my mapping at a human in leather, a hunter, with a wooden tablet on his face. Which was clinging to said face with spider-like legs. And who was the only Mage in camp? Yep. I was literally carried to the wounded man. Specifically, to what I saw from a distance—a mask stuck to his face with legs.
"See what's wrong with him."
I exhaled, casting a massive magical vision spell on the guy. In the form of strings... that's strange. I'd never seen such twists of strings before. The legs, by the way, weren't real; they were just the visualization of the strings.
"Well?"
I waved them off:
"Don't interfere, I'm doing what I can."
From above, the tablet looks like just a piece of wood with a toothy face painted on it. And through the "legs," strings enter the victim's body. Possession? I'd never seen anything like it. Hm, it seems the source of the strings is somewhere on the inside of the tablet. It needs to be removed. I tried to press on the strings. They wouldn't budge, as if growing into the body. Okay, think, think, think. This looks like possession, probably. The ingrowth of a construct. The mask needs to be removed before the process goes too far.
"Alright, let's try."
And pouring in more power, I slashed at the strings. The victim screamed, someone tried to pull me away, there was a scuffle behind me, and I struck the strings again. The tablet fell off, hit the ground, and burst into flames. The victim wheezed, clutching his face.
"I think I did it."
I was pushed aside rather roughly as they rushed to help the victim. So much for gratitude. I didn't wait around and went back to mapping. To the hunters' credit, they had the politeness to come over, apologize, and inform me that the victim had been on a reconnaissance mission in the temple. Apparently, one of the traps had gone off.
"What is this nonsense?" the hunters grumbled. "The further we go, the more beasts come out. And this magical madness on top of it."
Also a fact; many of them suddenly felt the need to attack the camp. A pack of five raptors just ran straight into the mines. The noise was serious; the lizards didn't make it past the mines. Но the point was that before they hadn't bothered us, and suddenly they started, often ignoring the deaths of their kin until the end. Only Heming remained cheerful and upbeat.
"More beasts means more game. Let them come, and bring that big snake with them."
Except the snake itself was in no hurry to attack. It was present somewhere in the background, eating the kills, rustling, saying something in snake-speak, but it didn't attack head-on. I had a strong suspicion that the creature was smarter than it wanted to appear. I'm not talking about human or Elf level, but smart enough to measure its strength.
Meanwhile, evening came, followed by night. The night "graced" me with a new portion of dreams featuring that boa in the lead role. But Venidan, watching my attempts to sleep, was no longer laughing.
"Listen, DaVi, maybe we really should lie down together. Maybe you can at least get some proper sleep. This place is just not right. I'm serious, kid. Stop showing off and get in."
I thought about it and agreed; I really didn't like constantly waking up to the sight of that snake's yellow eyes. Except it didn't help; the snake in my dreams didn't go anywhere, so that morning I was still angry at the whole world.
And as if reality couldn't get any worse, it did. At lunch, Heming Nesingwary approached me and announced:
"I need you to go into the temple."
After my "introduction" to the snake, the idea did not please me. Not at all. But I couldn't just refuse, so I asked:
"Reason? You tracked the snake, need support?"
The Dwarf sighed. It was clear he didn't like the idea much himself.
"We found Troll stone golems inside. As you can imagine, a hunter with a bow and arrows will fare worse than a Mage capable of simply freezing them. So the plan is that the boys will clear the way for you and hold the golems back, and you'll break them. The squad is large, I'm going too, the snake won't mess with us. Not the best plan, but it should work."
I hope so. Because the last two days had been quite difficult. And I'd seen everyone in their graves, especially this snake and the teacher. I understand why they gave up on it last time.
I don't understand why it's affecting me specifically, but it's really unpleasant. Maybe it's precisely because I'm a Mage. Maybe for some other reason. Anyway, the sooner we deal with this, the sooner I can get some proper sleep.
"I'm in."
And so we were back at the foot of the temple, at the steps leading to the very top between stone braziers with various Troll nastiness. This time, instead of a sense of mystery and the ascent "from the earth to the spirit realm," I just wanted to smash everything here. One way or another. Because this was the most unpleasant experience in my memory!
And just so we wouldn't relax, as soon as we reached the very top, there was a rustle of scales and the snake's tail disappeared into a ventilation hole. Or maybe it was built specifically for the snake. Heming and the others behind him checked their muskets.
The ice had almost melted; once again we were alone in the gloom. The Dwarves had torches, but they cast long, frightening shadows which, considering the snake, only made me more nervous.
"What, scared, you crawling bastard? Rightly so. Rightly so," the Dwarf muttered.
Except the snake was in no hurry to show itself. It hissed, rustled, slithered.
"Keep your eyes peeled, stay away from the holes."
Yep. The corridors inside the temple were stone and very dusty, making it often impossible to tell where the slits of the next trap were. Otherwise, there were occasional fragments of ceramics and furniture, things falling apart from age and dampness among the stone halls. No comfort, no traces of being lived in.
"Watch your feet, pitfalls."
In some places in the corridor, entire sections had fallen. Not just holes, but rectangular blocks; I could even see the stone hinges the blocks hung on. Traps. And sharp spikes at the bottom. How lovely.
The snake came twice more. It didn't attack, but it rustled, hissed, spoke in snake-speak, and got on our nerves. Once it sat in the ventilation, but a Fireball sent its way made the crawling bastard clear out and stop interfering. A corridor is not the best place for a fight with such an enemy.
"And there's a golem."
Here I got a chance to look at this creation of Troll hands. It looked like an Aztec-era figurine. Roughly made arms and legs, unlike the Elven armor. Square shapes and limbs. Toothy maws, necklaces around the neck, and a skirt on the stone figure's waist. They really love making huge hats and long sharp teeth. And don't ask how a stone statue can even be moving, let alone a golem. Magic.
This particular golem was broken into pieces by collective effort, left lying on the ground after everything valuable was picked out. And judging by how it was overgrown with moss, this had been done a long time ago. Monty came up to me, poked the doll's head with his barrel, and said:
"There were two more like that further on. Let's go, and watch your feet. There are holes here too."
I understood why to watch my feet immediately. In the floor of the next hall, several rectangular holes were found, clearly of artificial origin. In the darkness of the passages, in the torchlight, they could easily have gone unnoticed. However, Elves have sharp vision, so I could see these holes clearly. And that something was crawling there. I even knew what. We all did.
I quietly pointed a finger at the right slit, which was immediately targeted by ten barrels and one bow. All this in dead silence; even the crackling of torches and the rustle of scales could be heard, along with breathing. Obeying the command, the scout-spider jumped off my back and went toward the hole in the floor, hoping to provoke the snake's attack. A rustle responded; the golem had been heard. Everyone tensed as the rustle repeated. It seemed we collectively held our breath. Now, snakey, peek out, try to get some food.
A second later, my entire orientation went south. The world spun, jerked, I was pulled sideways and down—thankfully I had come in here under a shield. Familiar teeth were found all around, grinding against the shield.
"DaVi!" but the cry was fading, as if we were moving away from it.
Though why "as if"? We were definitely moving away; the snake was no longer trying to bite through me but was dragging me somewhere. Probably to where no one could help me, to its lair. No thanks. Managing to orient myself somehow, I unleashed another cone of cold. Then a second; the first didn't help much, I probably missed. The second time worked.
"Sangssa! Farrssshakh!"
I was spat out and dropped onto the floor. It hurt, even under the shield, especially since I fell into water. Shallow, only a couple of centimeters, but cold. But now I could look around, thanks to magical vision.
"So, you kidnapped me. Why?" I asked the snake, looking around.
This was a very dark hall, apparently deep within the temple. High ceilings, about ten meters, overgrown with cobwebs. Cool and damp, a thin layer of water splashing on the floor. Into which I had tumbled, immediately getting soaked. Above, a parapet and a passage further on were visible. I couldn't say exactly where the snake had dragged me from, though magical vision allowed me to see the room's contours even in such darkness.
Well, and in the center of the room, what do we have? Naturally, a sacrificial altar, with a stone statue beside it. Unlike the other golems, this one was quite detailed. Not just stone stick-arms and legs, but something like muscles carved out. Still nowhere near Elven level, but they had clearly put effort into this statue. It could have been the figure of a king or a military commander that he had commissioned for himself. The style was unusual, again, similar to South American peoples, but still quite good, definitely.
And the snake was coiled around it. Now that it wasn't hidden in a wall, I could estimate its size. The body was about a meter thick, twenty to thirty meters long. Something between a collar and leathery wings. Huge yellow glowing eyes and a mouth full of teeth. And now this beast was looming over me. How lovely.
"I'll feed you ice."
But the snake hissed, uttering some more inarticulate text. Something had to be done; I was cold and wet here. I was afraid to attack; the beast was too big for my freezing. On the other hand, I still had my mana shield up, and I could hold it for a while longer. It seemed like a stalemate.
A deafening shot thundered, making me jump. The snake looked at the second level, at the balcony. Where Heming Nesingwary stood on one knee with his rifle raised. The snake immediately rushed toward the Dwarf, hissing fiercely and opening its maw, but apparently, the concept of a double-barreled weapon was foreign to it.
The roar of the second shot right into the maw made the snake recoil. Alright, why am I slacking here!
"Cone of Cold!"
The water actually played to my advantage; the floor was instantly frozen and hidden under ice, and the snake was partially restrained. A bowstring twanged, and an arrow (with a knife already in the first) pierced the snake's second eye.
"DaVi, you didn't think we'd leave you, did you?"
I laughed quite sincerely. Damn, I'm glad to see you, really!
"Venidan. You're just in time."
Heming, who was reloading his rifle while taking advantage of the freeze, grumbled:
"Chat later! Now—the hunt!"
And right he was. The snake tensed and shattered the ice with a crack. And hissed deafeningly, turning its head frantically. And at that moment, I felt a vibration of strings and smiled.
"Hey, I'm over here!" and when the snake turned toward the sound, I snorted with laughter.
"Clank."
The explosion made the snake stagger. A mine had jumped right into its maw. Unfortunately, there was no way to assess the damage, but the snake was clearly not shaking its head out of pleasure. Heming didn't wait and discharged a double shot into its head, while I focused on freezing new layers.
"Don't you move, you avant-garde masterpiece! Arcane Arrows!"
Purple flashes flew from my hands into the predator's head. Но it wasn't enough for it.
"Fix the head!" Heming demanded, and instead of another volley of arrows, I unleashed a cone of cold. Yes, the hall now definitely looked suitable for filming scenes of the Citadel of the Lich King, everything was so frozen. But it wasn't enough for the snake. It tensed its muscles, jerked, moved, flooding the ice with blood. Venidan moved into melee, poking with her blade, but even that wasn't enough.
The snake jerked, once again crushing the icy crust, and at that moment another double shot thundered. And silence fell. The snake froze and then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to topple over, since the ice was still hindering its movement. And only about ten seconds later, already blocked by ice, did it stop.
"Is it dead?" Venidan asked quietly, poking the snake with her dagger.
The Dwarf chuckled.
"Skull's pierced, brains scattered. The beast is done. Phew. That was not bad, girls, for rookies."
My sob turned into a laugh, and then into a roar of laughter. Yes! Yes! Yes! Die, you beast! I only just realized how much tension I'd been in the whole time! And! It! Is! Dead! Yes! We did it! Yes!
What we didn't notice was the abnormal behavior of the blood. As it poured out of the snake, it didn't flow down. It flowed onto the sacrificial altar. And when enough blood had hit it, time seemed to stop. One of the statues in the corner of the room quietly left its pedestal and departed through an unnoticed secret door in the wall.
***
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