Tsaimath
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Chapter 661
🕑 Added 2022-11-06 17:00:09 +0000 UTCI was somewhat amused when I realised that I actually recognised the leader of this motley band of adventurers. Or rather, of Travellers, for I was now completely convinced that they all were from beyond, just like me.
Controlling the simulacrum, I moved it forward, making sure that the cloak of twilight concealed the statue both physically and magically, trying to make it appear like it was actually me who was challenging them at the bottom of my tower.
Howardlight stepped forward, bellowing out a challenge, something about the blood of my people and, for some reason, my father, calling for me to answer for my crimes. I had no idea what that was all about and couldn’t help but laugh, high above them on my throne. There was no way for me to actually reply, that would have required the use of Wind-Magic which I just didn’t have, but luckily, Lenore was right next to me and happily took that part over for me.
“You speak of Justice, Paladin? Of cowardice? Come forth, and we shall show you the true meaning of fear, for a dragon, you are not,” Lenore mocked, using magic to project her voice as if it was coming from the simulacrum. At the same time, I channelled some more magic, letting a cold mist swirl around the simulacrum’s feet, billowing forth and giving our visitors the chills. I could see a few of them step back, somewhat intimidated, but Howardlight happily pressed forward, his armour clad in golden light, pushing back some of the darkness the Nidhögg had spread, and his morningstar raised high.
With nary a thought, I conjured up some extra Ice, making it look like the Simulacrum was now suddenly three metres tall, clad in armour of Ice and holding a massive great sword, oversized even for the increased size of the statue, in hand. I was no expert with such a weapon but then, I wasn’t really swinging the weapon with my muscles, I was wielding it with my magic. Had to be good enough, especially as it was supposed to be a welcoming encounter, not destroy my guests outright.
The battle was fun. For some ten minutes, I let the simulacrum clash with the attacking Travellers, mostly using that oversized sword, simple, telegraphed blades of Ice that I sent out in a nicely predictable pattern, keeping them on their toes as they battered the frozen armour of my simulacrum. Finally, I decided that it was time for the battle to end and let the statue falter, fall to one knee before shattering in a violent explosion of Ice. That last attack was enough to bring multiple attackers down, but I had no doubt that the healing magic I could feel from below would patch them back up. After all, if they all died, the rest of my tower would likely fall by the wayside, wasting the efforts I had made to set the thing up.
Keeping one mental eye on the Travellers, as they rested and, a little later, continued their advance into my tower, I focused on the now completely black Astral Siphon and the Soul Prison connected to it, looking forward to truly speaking to the ancient dragon.
“Ancient One, could we converse?” I asked, stepping towards the artefact. There was an odd pressure on me, making me want to bow and scrape as if I was approaching a being far superior to me, but this was my tower. I would not bow and most certainly not kneel.
“Ice Queen, yes, what is it?” the voice from earlier asked, the voice now clearly coming from the Astral Siphon.
“We broke your prison for a reason,” I began, leaning on the role of Ice Queen to give me the confidence to negotiate with the incredibly powerful being before me, “What we sought was power, power to take vengeance. From what I understand of your role, you are the one gnawing on the roots of the World Tree, yes?” I asked, trying to get confirmation of my earlier conclusions, before going further.
“Yes, that was me,” the voice replied and I could feel some images getting transmitted amidst the words, vague memories of a divine eagle, of a squirrel that acted as a messenger and of oh-so-delicious power, devoured directly from its source, the World Tree itself. With those images, I could confirm that the ancient sapling seemed to have been of the same species, only that the World Tree had been so much more, the presence in the memories far eclipsing the most powerful beings I had seen before, the Bound Titan.
“The object of our vengeance are the elves of Arbortoma, their forest, their dryads, everything about them. We seek to see their forest burn, be it in Your Black Flames or in our own flames. Either way, their civilisation shall wither, the few survivors forever singing their songs of mourning, mourning my beloved. For Her death is what doomed them all,” I declared, a cold anger flowing through my body at those memories. As I spoke, a faint wind started to blow and for a second, I could feel Sigmir’s embrace, and hear her voice in the air as she thanked me.
“Ambitious…” the voice replied and I could hear a faint amusement in it, not mocking but more the amusement of a teacher that sees a student doing well. “And something we can help you achieve.” the voice continued and I felt a vicious grin spread over my face. A huge part of my ideas had hinged on that, if the Nidhögg could help me crush the elven realm, maybe to the point that the entire World of Mundus was plunged into a cold, dark winter, Pantheon would have no choice but start the world anew. And maybe, I would be able to leverage my actions into a revival for Sigmir, hopefully with the option to help her regain her memories further down the line.
“For now, I need to regain strength. The cursed Sun restrains me and your foes have already found us. You felt it, did you not, when you broke the prison holding me?” the voice asked and I had to think back, before nodding. There had been that odd sensation of strangulation when breaking the prison, forcing me to bring in Lenore for help.
“The Arch Druid, Bound to the Elder Tree, has tried to use their power to stop you. An attack would fail at this point, while their power is at its strongest. Wait until the dead of night, when our power reaches its peak and their power wanes to strike. Then, we shall sing together, as I regain my body and you fulfil your vengeance,” the voice promised, the words radiating with malice and a promise of violence.
“There are a few outsiders in my domain, Travellers from Beyond, just like I am, and at least one Valkyrie we have managed to capture. Will those be useful for the ritual or should we just toy with them at our leisure, before crushing them like the insects they are?” I asked, curious if the Nidhögg had a use for sacrifices or if we would simply use the power of the Nexus. My original idea, to try corrupting the Valkyrie, didn’t seem feasible any longer, especially as she was still getting dragged back by the Wargs and, by now, quite tattered.
“If we had hundreds, maybe thousands, of sacrifices it would make a difference,” the voice replied, the dismissal of those few lives clear, “Especially the Travellers, their souls are bound elsewhere, destroying their Avatars would be…” the voice petered off, before an audible snort came from the Astral Siphon, making the Nidhögg’s opinion quite obvious.
“Then we shall have some fun with them, maybe let them come before me, only to see their pointless endeavour come to an end at my feet. Could you ascertain that they are incapable of stopping their Gods from interfering directly? A few days ago, a flight of Valkyries used a quite powerful spell, far too powerful for them to accomplish it on their own, to strike at a simulacrum of mine. I would prefer not to get ambushed by some divine shenanigans,” I asked, trying to cover all the potential bases. I had no doubt that I would remain victorious if it was only the Travellers but Divine Magic was an unnecessary wildcard.
“I can keep the Divine from seeing their progress, or hearing all but the common prayers,” the Nidhögg promised and I felt my face split in a grin, as I realised that the role of the villain came naturally to me. Shaking my head I focused on the distant Wargs, giving them permission to tear the Valkyrie apart. That one would be of no use to me, so letting a potential foe live any longer would be foolish.
The Valkyrie’s end was mercifully swift, she never woke from her stupor before the warg that had been carrying her broke her neck, ending her life, before leaving her in the snow.
“Would you like to watch, as these intrepid adventurers make their way up our Tower, only to find themselves outmatched and grovel at our feet at the end? We believe it would be quite entertaining to watch,” I suggested, even as I began to prepare, making sure that there would be no silly mistakes. As someone had once said, the world was a stage, and we were all but actors. This was my stage and I had to write a compelling script.
