Viridian Gate Online: Darkling Siege (The Viridian Gate Archives Book 7) Page 28
“No joke,” I said, thinking back to both my brief time in the Dusty Mustache and Senator Caius’ casual hatred of the Dokkalfar—bitter resentment left over from a war fought decades before we’d arrived in-game. Until now, I’d seen the Vogthar as disposable, faceless bad guys to mow down while moving from one quest to another. They weren’t people, they were mindless monsters. Even knowing what I did, seeing them down there swarming those houses made me just a tad nervous. Assuming all of the Vogthar could be freed from Thanatos’ corrupting influence, how long would it take for the rest of the people of Eldgard to let go of their suspicions and hatred?
Would they ever be able to?
“Hey,” I said, facing Abby, a tired smile creasing my face. “I wanted to say that it’s been really nice just being with you the past few days. I know things have been weird lately. Between us, I mean.”
“Gee, you don’t say,” she replied, eyes rolling so hard I thought they might pop out of her head. “I hadn’t picked up on that.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” I conceded.
“I’m not blind, Jack,” she said. “You’ve been pushing me away. And I get it.”
“About that,” I replied, dropping my gaze. “I want to explain. To apologize.”
“Explain?” She snorted. “I’m also not a dummy, Jack. I know you. I’ve seen how you are.” She pressed in closer, jabbing a finger against my chest. “Plus, I can totally read people better than you. I knew Osmark was a snake, and I knew that you were the one guy in the world I could trust when I needed someone. I was right on both counts. You’re a good guy, Jack, and you thought pushing me away would make it less painful if something happened to you.”
Well, yeah. She’d known this whole time?
I sighed. Who was I kidding? Only myself, apparently.
Of course she’d known.
“You’re right again. Two for two,” I said, shuffling my feet as I worked through this next part in my mind. “The thing is, I was being a moron. I was so worried about hurting you long term that I failed to see how much I was hurting you now.”
“Hey,” she said, tipping my chin back up with her cupped hand. “This is all new to both of us, and it’s a lot of stress. No one expects you to do things perfectly, including me. That’s part of growing. Screwing up. Making mistakes. Learning from them.”
“Now you’re three for three,” I replied with a heady grin. “And the thing I’ve learned?” I drew away from her, slipping my hand into my pocket and pulling free the simple golden band with the diamond stud perched on top. “I don’t know how long I have with you, but I’m going to appreciate every single second we get together. I’m not going to live with regrets.” I dropped to one knee, lifting the ring. The stone caught the silver light shining down, glimmering like a trapped star. “So, I guess what I want to know, Abby, is will you marry me?”
She froze, eyes locked onto the glittering ring, her chest hitching a little.
For a long, terrible moment I thought she was going to say no...
Then she squealed, accepting the proffered ring and sliding it onto her finger with a gasp. Before I could say anything else, she pulled me to my feet and threw her arms around me, squeezing the life out of me with her enthusiasm. “Of course I’ll marry you.” We swayed back and forth. “There’s no one else I’d rather be in this with than you,” she murmured into my chest.
After a few minutes she reluctantly released her death hold. “I’m glad to have you back, Jack.” She eyed the ring with a quirk of her lips.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No,” she said with a little shake of her head, “but also yes. A lot of mixed emotions is all.” A sly smile crept across her face. “But enough of that. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and gave it a tug. “I like your motto of living without regrets, and it just so happens that the Dwarven architects built an extra little place for visiting dignitaries like us.” She glanced over a shoulder and shot me a wink. “I think it’s time I finally finished my Firebrand courtship dance. You interested?”
My mouth was dry, my palms slick. “Sounds like we should walk faster.”
“I’m on board,” she said, picking up her pace with a giggle. “Then tomorrow we can go serve Thanatos a great big ol’ can of whoop-ass, so we can get married and have a proper honeymoon without having to worry about someone trying to murder the world.”
Final Preparation
I TROMPED THROUGH THE mud and muck of the Siege Yard outside of Idruz, my breath misting in front of me in the early morning light. Osmark kept pace to my right, Abby to my left, the rest of the amassed Eldgard War Council fanning out around us in a semicircle. We were a few members short, since there was still a war on and we needed generals and officers to keep the train on the rails. All the heavy hitters were present and accounted for, though. A first since the invasion started. Surrounding us in an even wider ring were members of the Imperial Janissaries and Alliance shock troops, ready to dance if Thanatos had some sort of preemptive strike waiting in the wings.
Marching ahead of our sprawling party were Vlad and Enzo, both looking particularly pleased with themselves. I had to admit, they had good reason to be pleased.
Despite the logistical challenges and the personality differences—namely, Vlad and Enzo trying to eviscerate each other at every possible turn—the siege towers were done. All three of them. Two of the three had already been deployed, preparing for the inevitable raid against the Necropolis, but the crowning jewel was still here in the Siege Yard, waiting for our final inspection. And everyone wanted to get a sneak peek since these siege engines hadn’t come cheap. Aside from the labor and sheer man-hours, each tower had cost millions of dollars’ worth of gold, materials, and rare crafting ingredients.
A lot of that money had come from Alliance and Imperial coffers—a fact that the Imperial senators were livid about, because of course they were—but the Dwarves of Stone Reach and the merchants of the Ankaran Trimerite had also ponied up a hefty sum.
“This, Jack, this is one you will pilot,” Vlad said as we finally came to a stop at the base of the enormous structure, “Vlad has christened it, Crimson Hammer.” He waved a gloved hand at an enormous red hammer painted across the front of the structure. The mark alone was the size of a billboard. No one would have any problem figuring out who was in this thing.
“Holy bollocks of Banztantium,” Cutter said, gazing up, “that’s one helluva big siege tower.”
“That’s what she said,” Abby mumbled beside me, though only half-heartedly. Her attention was locked on the tower. I understood the sentiment.
Even after giving the blueprints a once-over and seeing the work in progress, nothing could’ve remotely prepared me for the reality of the siege tower. Heck, even the term siege tower seemed woefully inadequate to describe the colossal titan I was staring at. It was the Godzilla of war machines. Back in my college days, I’d taken a history unit called the Early Middle Ages, 284–1000 AD, and there’d been a whole section on siege warfare. I’d seen pictures of early siege towers in my textbook, but this thing more closely resembled a Gundam than it did the images I’d seen splayed out on the text pages.
Instead of cumbersome wheels, the tower perched atop a set of spindly mechanical legs that looked uncannily like the limbs of an enormous spider. They were a steampunk wonder of steel and iron, gears and rivets, pistons and brass tubing, cobbled together by every Artificer in Eldgard all working together around the clock for more than a week solid.
Enzo offered the slightest grin as he watched my jaw drop. “You see my base”—he waved at the mechanized spider legs with a slowly smoldering cigarette—“it is far superior to wheels. A masterpiece of engineering.”
Osmark crept up beside me. “Enzo is insufferable, but I told you the man is a genius. Hopefully your boy Vlad lives up to all the hype. Though if the exterior is any indication, I suspect we’ll have nothing to worry about.”
“The tower,” Enzo declared from ahead, giving
voice to Osmark’s musings, “it is serviceable.” He frowned, shrugging noncommittally. “Perhaps even adequate.”
Vlad scoffed and idly reached for the crossbow strapped to his back. “Serviceable,” he muttered darkly. “Will show buffoon serviceable as soon as Thanatos is in ground.”
Despite Enzo’s dismissive and overt skepticism, the siege tower itself was a skosh beyond serviceable.
Thirteen stories tall—not counting the added height from the base—it was covered in reinforced steel armor and positively littered with smaller siege weapons. So. Many. Weapons.
Externally mounted platforms with ballistae and Arcane Shadow Cannons. Steel-shuttered windows with car-sized grappling hook cannons attached to wrist-thick lengths of chain, perfect for tearing away sections of the wall or allowing infiltrators to scuttle across to the battlements. A full contingent of steam-powered Gatling guns festooned a section of the tower that would be level with the top of the Necropolis’ outer wall. Ideal for cutting down frontline defenders manning the icy ramparts. Protruding from both sides of the tower were oversized mechanized arms—one capped by a sledgehammer the size of a tank, the other wielding a three-foot-thick metal shield as big as a freight train car.
Perched on top of the tower, like the Eye of Sauron, was a circular golden orb covered in flowing silver script. I had no idea what it did, but man did I want to find out.
“It is a wonder,” Ashur eil Akhiqar said from behind me. “We Ankarans believe in trade, art, and luxury—not war. Yet this...” He fluttered his wings, feathers bristling, and shook his head. “Bu guzel. It is incredible.”
“Etekleri zil caliyor,” one of the other Accipiter merchants teased, jostling Ashur with an elbow.
“And so what if I am giddy, eh?” Ashur shot back. “It is a wonder to rival every building in Ankara. Unlike you, Mehmet, I was a craftsman long before I became a merchant and made my fortune. I can admire the skill here. From one craftsman to another,” he boomed to Vlad and Enzo, “I say elenize saglik. Health to your hands.”
“Spasibo,” Vlad replied, tipping his chin in acknowledgment. “Come, will give you all a tour of inside. That is where true artwork lies. Many features.” He paused, tilting his head to one side. “It is Vlad’s best work to date.” While he spoke, the spider legs hissed, steam spurting out from each of its eight appendages as it lowered itself to the ground. A rear loading hatch—large enough to accommodate even a creature Devil’s size—lurched upward like an oversized garage door. A metal ramp emerged, setting down gently on the muddy field. “So many features,” Vlad said stoically, though there was a smug smirk on his face.
“As the representatives of the Imperial taxpayers,” Senator Caius said dismissively, “we shall be the judge of that.”
Man, that guy was the worst.
We marched up the ramp three abreast, our boots clanging loudly on the plated metal.
The first-floor interior was a wide marshalling yard with ample overhead clearance, obviously meant to stage gear and divide units so they could deploy to the correct level of the tower. Signs were plastered all over the walls, and glowing arrows were painstakingly engraved on the floor, showing unit commanders where to go at a glance. Cannoneers to level three, siege operators to levels five, eight, and eleven. Aerial and archery units to level ten, foot and infiltrators to nine. Medic stations on all even floors. Engineers, Artificers, and crafters to the operating sectors on levels two and seven.
On and on.
The forethought and planning that had gone into this place was staggering.
There were no stairs—Vlad informed us that they took up too much space—but there were hearty ladders everywhere, connecting to steel catwalks that ran overhead. Attached to those catwalks were ropes, pulleys, and cranks that could be used to hoist heavier siege weapons to the upper levels. There were makeshift service elevators, all powered by small steam motors—though each also had a hand crank in case power went down during the raid. Vlad was a firm believer in fail-safes and redundancy measures.
My Chief Weaponeer ushered us through the various decks, each more impressive than the last.
The floors had all been custom built to serve their unique purpose, and a host of individual rooms, scribed with powerful ward runes, meant each section could be locked down in case the enemy somehow managed to breach the tower and get inside. The real wonder, however, was on level seven, right in the heart of the tower: the war room. A magically fortified diamond window—imported from Ankara, nearly indestructible, and incredibly pricey—looked out from the tower, giving the inhabitants of the war room an unobstructed view of the battlefield.
I’d expected a bridge similar to the setup Cutter had aboard the Hellreaver, but this place was far more USS Enterprise than Pirates of the Caribbean. Two oversized leather chairs, secured to the floor with heavy bolts, faced the window, and in front of each was a diamond-glass console studded with its own baseball-sized emeralds. Reclaimed Dungeon Cores, I knew from my time with Jo-Dan. There were no steampunk levers or manual toggle switches. Just the lifeless glass consoles. Positioned in the very center of the room was a third rig, more expansive than the other two.
It came with its own control console but there was also a strange emerald helmet perched on the seat.
“This room is my crowning jewel,” Vlad said proudly, shooting Enzo a withering glare. “Unlike awkward, unwieldly Artificer Goliaths, system is intuitive and works through player interface. Is very complicated but user friendly. Look.” He gestured to the chairs. “Two lieutenants sit here, da? One connects with engineering department on levels two and seven. Engineer can use Darkshard Ore to make instant repairs or upgrades to tower. Second chair is A-Gunner, governs backup weapon systems, deploys Keep Guardians.”
“Keep Guardians?” Osmark interjected. “How is that possible? Guardians are bound to cities and their respective Keeps. They have a very short geographic operating range outside of preset parameters.”
“Is true,” Vlad said with a nod. He strutted forward and picked up the emerald helmet. “Guardians are powerful tools, but how to use them in Morsheim, Vlad wondered. Then, inspiration.” He grinned. “Make each siege tower its own independent, mobile Keep. This is Keep Stone.” He ran calloused fingers over the green helmet. “Allows pilot to control whole Siege Keep as though they were Primary Keep Guardian. Also connects to Seer Stone on top of the tower—gives wearer a panoramic view. Was very difficult to build. Steep learning curve.”
He walked over and handed me the helmet.
“Please, Jack. Sit. Try for yourself.”
“Well, surely he shouldn’t be the first to test it,” Senator Caius objected. “Not with all of us inside.”
Yep, that was it. I was done putting up with his BS.
“Senator, this is my rig,” I said coolly, “and if you don’t want to be here, I’m sure we can arrange for you to be escorted out. Maybe from the top level of the tower? You’ll be on the ground in seconds. Or you can shut your mouth.”
“How dare you,” he growled, balling fat fists in a huff.
I ignored him completely, slipping the helmet on over my head as I took a seat in the command chair. There were no eyeholes, and for a second everything was unobstructed darkness. But then the whole world lit up like a bonfire—everything coated with the subtlest tint of green. The view caught me off guard and took my breath away. I was no longer sitting in the command center chair. Instead, I had a brilliant, unobstructed view of the Siege Yard and all of Morsheim from the top of the tower.
I was actually seeing through the enormous Seer Stone.
<<<>>>
Enable Crimson Hammer Siege Keep Interface Link? Yes/No
<<<>>>
I accepted. For a beat nothing happened, but when I turned my head to look for Vlad, the whole world rumbled around me.
“You are tower, Jack,” Vlad said, his voice perfectly clear in my head. “What you do, we all do.”
“What’s that now?” I asked
, feeling a little thunderstruck. I was the tower?
Hesitantly, I stood up.
My physical body refused to move an inch—I was locked into the chair. But the tower noted my intention and stood in my place, the mechanical legs straining as we rose higher and higher and higher into the air, eventually reaching the tower’s zenith, some hundred and fifty feet above the ground. Along the bottom of my vision, communications icons and status reports for various areas of the siege tower populated: basically, a series of mini Health bars, which told me how our systems were faring. Along the peripheries of my vision were a variety of weapon and spell icons.
The whole interface reminded me of the old hotkey slot system some of my favorite RPGs had employed. All of the system icons were currently red, and when I tried to select them nothing happened.
“Weapons aren’t armed yet,” Vlad said, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere. “Siege items are on board, but crews will still need to load and prep for fire. But you and your A-Gunner will have complete control of the main weapon systems. This vehicle is an extension of yourself.”
“What about the spell slots?” I asked. “At least, I assume that’s what those are.”
“Da,” Vlad replied. “We have special platforms for spellcasters with runic circles that will amplify their spell effects. You will have command of all of them.”
I raised my right arm and gasped as the enormous hammer-limb I’d seen on the outside responded. My left controlled the shield arm. Oh my God. I had my own medieval mech. This was might’ve been the single coolest thing I’d seen since coming to V.G.O.—and I’d ridden on the back of a jumbo-jet-sized dragon and become the living incarnation of a deity. I’d asked Vlad to do the impossible, and he’d exceeded my expectations in every conceivable way.
With a grin, I removed the helmet.
<<<>>>
Crimson Hammer Siege Keep Interface Link Disabled.
<<<>>>
I skimmed over the message and stood. Without the helmet in place, the tower froze. “What happens if I take this thing off in battle?” I asked, eyeing the helmet, turning it over in my hands before gently, almost reverently, setting it on the seat.