Martel felt like he was surrounded by water, floating under the surface. As the sensation of drowning set in, accompanied by panic, it all disappeared, and he found himself on the cold ground, breathing greedily.
Surrounded by darkness, he could see little except the vicious glow of a green sorcerous blade and a pair of flaming blue eyes. Summoning a fla on instinct, a small room beca illuminated, showing the lich fighting against Atreus, the latter wielding the gold-edged dagger.
Martel raised a hand to use his new spell, and nothing ca to him. Belatedly, he realised why. He was underground, in a dungeon or the like, and far from the sun. Its powers could not reach him here.
With his customary sneer, Karolos seized Martel with magic and flung him across the room before returning his attention to Atreus. The spellbreaker unleashed his necromantic disruption, making the lich tremble before he retaliated with soulfire, and Atreus grimaced, stumbling back.
Weary from last night’s battle, Martel knew he had one spell left in him at most before exhaustion set in. Inferno might be strongest, but it would strike his ally as well. Besides, his elental spells had never inflicted much hurt on the lich; but if Martel could not wound him, perhaps he could distract him and allow Atreus to strike. For that, a re firebolt would not suffice.
Still on the ground, Martel grasped his staff and released a bolt of lightning, restraining it as best he could to keep it from jumping to another target. The magical energy wound itself around Karolos, but as before, it did not seem to hinder the undead mage in particular. He continued to ignore Martel, unleashing his soulfire spell on Atreus again.
A flaming blade appeared in the dark of the room, behind Karolos. With a swift movent, Eleanor swung her blade to cut the spine and decapitate the abomination, severing skull from skeleton.
Horrified, Martel saw this was not enough. The skull fell to the ground, but the remainder stayed upright, bony fingers reaching out to grasp the fallen head.
Before that could happen, Atreus drove the gold-edged dagger through the cranium, twisting the blade to break the skull apart. At last, the fla in the eyes disappeared. Once more, Karolos was dead; this ti, for good.
Everyone present and still alive breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s over,” Martel mumbled. He got on his feet, increasing his fla to properly illuminate the room.
Eleanor, sheathing her sword, joined him to give a quick embrace. “At last. It was our own fault he was released, but by the Stars, we have paid for that mistake twice over.” They separated, and she pulled out the pistol in her belt with its golden bullet. “This was wasted on . When the ti ca, I pure forgot about it.”
Martel shrugged. “We didn’t need it.”
“Where are we?” asked Atreus with a mutter. “We can’t go back the way we ca.” He looked down at the inert glyphs on the ground. The portal was dormant, and none of them had an inkling of how it worked. “I assu this was Karolos’s lair, a secret workshop away from Archen, but we need to find our way ho.”
Martel glanced around. A stone room, barren and devoid of ornants. In fact, it was curiously small as well, little more than the size of a bedchamber. It held no furniture other than a table, on which lay curious artefacts.
“Best we touch nothing,” Atreus warned them. “Sa goes for his items.” The spellbreaker pointed at the staff and coronet worn by Karolos. “Three hundred years is a long ti for his evil to seep into them.”
“Strange. No doors, but we are not in so underground dungeon. This is a window.” Eleanor walked to the wall and stuck her arm through the opening.
She was right; the darkness outside disguised it, but they were not in a closed room as Martel first assud. “Can we jump out?”
Eleanor picked up half of Karolos’s skull and threw it out the window. No sound ca. “How odd,” she remarked. “We are below ground, yet sohow high up?”
Martel summoned a second fla and floated it out of the window. Its light spread yet beca lost in the surrounding darkness. Finally, Martel realised the answer to the riddle. “The Undercroft. We’re in the Undercroft.”
All three of them crowded around the window, and Martel strengthened his fla as much as he could. Still, it could not illuminate the entire cavern that spread before them. All they could see was far below, the symtrical stone houses once carved out and now abandoned. Martel realised they were in the tower that stood in the centre.
“You know this place?” asked Atreus.
“We’ve been here before,” Martel explained. “We’re below Morcaster.”
“What a secret! I thought the catacombs were all that the city hid below,” the spellbreaker said. “At least we are on the right continent. Getting back to Archen will take ti, but it is feasible.”
“There is sense in this,” Eleanor contemplated. “That the lich would flee to this place, that is.”
Martel, worn beyond description, found it difficult to think. “You need to spell it out for .”
“Consider all we know. The portal magic was invented by the lost people of Phoenik. This was their city before they disappeared. This could be where Karolos learned their secrets. It certainly makes sense that there would be a portal in their city. It also provides a perfect refuge, considering none would dare co here,” Eleanor explained with a satisfied voice, clearly pleased at having pieced it all together.
“How odd,” mumbled Atreus, speaking to himself. He had approached one of the walls. Contrary to what Martel first thought, it was not entirely without ornant.
A large bird with spread-out wings had been carved into it. “An eagle?”
The spellbreaker shook his head. “I know only a little of Phoenik, but I assu this must be the bird that carries their na. Or they received theirs from it. This is a phoenix. Rebirth.”
Martel glanced down at the remains of the lich. “I suppose that’s what he was after, or what he achieved, albeit in a twisted form. Life after death.”
“The pressing question now is how do we get out of here? Is there a hatch…” Eleanor began stamping into the floor.
All of their considerations were swept away as the portal suddenly glowed with powerful light. Before they could react, there was a flash, and through it stepped a being.
Martel had never seen anything like it. The floating entity seed to shimr, but with magic. It had a vague shape that could be called human, but the edges blurred. Most of all, it radiated power.
Despite his inexperience, Martel knew what had happened. A fiend of the Nether had just stepped into their world.
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