Chapter 760: Into the Portal Maze

Watching them—through the portal—the Fool’s face twisted in shock and terror.

“Shit!” he shouted in mock surprise, turning and fleeing deeper into the sanctum.

“After him!” the First Apostle bellowed, pointing his sword at the escaping Fool. “We must—What? What blasphemy is this?”

Through the open portal, Gabrian could see three towering statues: two women with fanged faces who he took little notice of as they were beneath the holy man’s interest.

But, what was not beneath his interest was the statue in the middle of the pair.

The unmistakable, glorious form of Uldar loomed above the other two statues; it had been despoiled. Instead of his smooth, glorious countenance—looking down sternly or smiling in benediction—a ruin of gouges had been raked across his face, plain for all to see.

It was as though someone had taken an axe—or some other rock-shearing blade—and shredded Uldar’s face in a fit of hatred. Looking upon it filled the First Apostle’s chest with pain.

“Blasphemy!” he roared. “You commit blasphemy of the highest order, Fool! Why must you compound your unholy act so?”

Upon seeing the ruined image of Uldar, the holy warriors of the hidden church joined their leader in outrage; screaming, calling for blood and for justice.

They called for the Fool’s head.

And as one, they charged ahead, rushing toward the portal, uttering prayers to their god and brandishing their weapons above their heads.

With glee, the Stalker led them alongside Gabrian.

“Quickly now!” the Third Apostle cried. “We must get through the portal so I can close it! Already, I can feel the foreign deities searching for us!”

The column charged through the doorway to Kelda’s sanctum, still crying out for blood. Even Uldar’s messenger—the Hunter astride his mount—surged in with them.

Izas was to be the last one through, ensuring that the church’s forces were safely inside. Hearing no shrieks, explosions or other sounds of battle, he entered the portal.

“Now!” he shouted at the Stalker.

The fae waved a hand, calling the soil to him through the portal.

He pursed his lips and whistled and the dirt responded, circling the doorway within the sanctum.

Izas drew more power from Uldar’s divine throne through the gate in his soul. “By the power invested in me, by Uldar himself, I close this portal!”

He felt divine energy flow from his being, rushing through space, performing his holy will.

The portal closed behind them.

Now, the Fool would be trapped.

Or at least, Izas hoped so. He turned, finding—to his surprise—the holy warriors paused in the chamber.

“Where is the Fool?” one priestess asked. “I saw him enter the portal on the left!”

“I saw him go through the portal on the right!” another cried.

“What in the—” Izas murmured.

They were standing in a vast, stone hall that would have shamed even the grand chambers of most palaces. Fist-sized portals hovered along the walls—like portholes in a ship—like windows to a black sky filled with bright stars.

Starlight winked in that sky, but it paled in comparison to what hovered in the midst of the void. Through each portal, a white sun ranging in size, shone, burning so brightly, they stung the eye.

Intermittent waves of heat drifted into the hall, though the void’s frigid cold would then plunge the chamber’s temperature down to a biting cold. Other gateways—hovering at ceiling height—opened to cloudy skies, channelling fresh air into that part of the room.

One portal’s sky was filled with dark clouds, pouring torrential rain on the floor below.

Between the two female statues, loomed the stone statue of Uldar, tall and benevolent, his right hand posed in the mirror-image of his holy symbol. His robes looked like they’d been stitched from soft cloth rather than sculpted from stone. The bottom seemed to sway, as though the folds moved in a gentle wind. Sections of his sculpted hair fell across his shoulders like individual strands.

Uldar’s image was flawless in all ways aside from his face, a face that was marred by a deliberate hand that had wielded a rough tool. Whoever cut his face away, clearly held no love or warm feelings for the god of Thameland, nothing but rage and contempt screamed from that act.

Izas’ own rage boiled at the sight, but he could not dwell on it now.

The Fool would be punished in time.

Two larger portals were open on either side of the statues of the women.

From what he could see, each led to other vast chambers.

“There, turn to the left!” one of the holy warriors shouted.

“No, to the right!” another cried.

“Calm yourselves, you fools!” the Stalker shouted. “I can sense his name, remember? He’s in the right chamber, and he's getting away!”

“Then we go right. Onwards!” the First Apostle ordered.

As he did, Izas caught sight of the Fool, fleeing down the chamber through the right portal, he was raising his staff and summoning a swarm of small monsters to confound them.

The army of small entities rushed the holy warriors charging after the Fool.

Izas’ spirit was troubled; they were so near their goal that he could not help but fear that something would snatch victory away at any moment.

Shaking his head to free his mind of doubts, he tried to keep focused on his plan. The Third Apostle had thought to spread the soil through the sanctum quickly, keeping the Fool from teleporting away. It would be trickier until he had a better idea of the size of this accursed place they were in.

“Uldar guide us,” he whispered, joining the pursuit. In the back of his mind, a nagging thought kept playing. “Why is the Fool fleeing before us? Why isn't he simply teleporting away?”

###

“They didn’t separate,” Alex whispered. “Disappointing, but you can't have everything.” He teleported through a portal in the chamber he’d gone into, smiling as his hunters followed. “Have fun, Birger.”

###

“They went to the right,” the ancient firbolg rubbed his hands together in front of the controls, watching the holy warriors flood the room. “I’d hoped they'd go left. But, that’s alright, we’ll take what we can get.’

He held his finger above a button on the controls, glancing back at Kelda’s casket. “Doesn't matter I suppose, in the end, they’ll end up dead all the same. Well, Kelda, don't know if you tested your traps before, but, if you didn't? Well…”

He pressed the button.

“…our ‘guests’ will do it for you.”

###

The hidden church surged into the next room like an angry tide. They brandished their weapons, calling on miracles to enhance their bodies, between hurling curses at the fleeing Fool.

At the head of the column, the First Apostle shouted the incantation for a fireball, casting the spell at their quarry. It shot through the nearest portal, exploding—threatening to engulf Alex Roth—but he teleported away before it even had a chance to.

The Stalker was whistling from the back of his mount, sending soil whirling toward the different portals.

“Wait!” the First Apostle shouted. “We do not know the layout here, so send the soil directly after the Fool! We must trap him instead of putting the whole area under our interdiction!”

“Hey, it’s your plan! You've got the right to change it if you want to, I'm just glad we'll be able to run him down!” the fae shouted.

Izas noted unease in their voices.

They seemed to be having the same questions as he was: if the Fool could teleport wherever he wanted, why would he continue fleeing just ahead of them, remaining within range of their spells?

It was as though he was—

Before Izas could finish his thought, a sharp click, like a tree branch snapping, echoed through the chamber.

“What was that?” someone shouted.

Holes abruptly appeared in the stone walls, opening like hungry mouths.

“Look out!” the Third Apostle cried.

The warning came too late.

Javelins burst from the holes in the chamber walls, whistling through the air.

The Stalker raised his hand, stopping those heading for him in mid-flight. They hung suspended, quivering in the air, and dropped, clattering uselessly to the floor.

The First Apostles’s quick reflexes were on full display as he raised his shield, knocking javelins away. His sword instantly swept out, striking down more.

Izas called a miracle, raising a barrier of light before himself. Several struck, glancing off the shield, falling away, but others were still flying from different angles, straight for the bodies of a host of holy warriors. They struck true, impacting on every side. Javelin tips broke on steel armour, and some pierced flesh, bringing screams rising through the booby-trapped chamber. Warriors quickly raised shields, catching the onslaught, while others dove away, escaping death as even more of their fellows fell to the ground, wailing above the constant staccato of steel tips striking metal, stone, and divine barriers.

Javelins slipped between narrow slits of helmet visors, dropping a few unlucky warriors instantly, stilling them permanently.

The barrage abruptly ended, those who’d survived quickly tended the wounded, calling miracles to heal them. Izas and Gabrian chanted prayers, and waves of divine light swept out, touching their injured brothers and sisters, mending wounds in an instant.

“So that's the game!” the Stalker shouted. “Our quarry means to lead us through a little maze of traps!”

“This means he intends this to be a final stand,” the First Apostle said. “He plans on eliminating us here and now, but we are children of Uldar and we will not be destroyed!”

“Holy leader,” Izas shouted. “We cannot allow ourselves to fall into his field of traps! We have to do something!”

“Can you access the fae roads from here?” the First Apostle asked the Stalker.

“No,” the small fae frowned. “I don’t know what’s happening, but we’re in the strangest place I’ve ever been in. It feels like we're spinning, or shifting about, or something. I can’t—look out!”

From the other portal, small air elementals rushed in, raking the hidden church with sheets of lightning. The blasts were too weak to do any real harm, but they weren’t meant to, between them and the howling winds the elementals would assault the church’s forces with, they would distract.

Distract long enough so that when Bjorgrund came charging through the other portal surrounded by hordes of small water and ice elementals, they’d be occupied. Frigid water and shards of ice hit the left flank of the church in waves. The young giant leapt, swinging his axe in an arc, cutting through the enemy.

The blade cleaved armour, flesh and bone; splitting bodies in two.

When the arc was complete, Bjorgrund was gone, speeding back through the portal—the opposite of the one the Fool had taken.

The Stalker cursed, his eyes falling on his hounds. “What's the matter with you all? Why are you staring like you’re addled?”

The members of the hidden church—especially the Apostles—stood frozen in shock. “That axe…” Gabrian murmured.

“The armour…” Izas gasped. “They’re Uldar’s! He wore it to protect himself against the venom of the ocean serpent in the third chronicle!”

“He used that axe to cleave the demon tree of Auchterbal in two!” Gabrian added. “How could some nameless giant have them? Why would he have them?”

“We must get them back!” a holy warrior cried. “We cannot allow that thief to keep Uldar’s possessions!”

“The portal…” Izas considered. “Maybe it does lead to Uldar… but then how would they gain his equipment unless he allowed them to have it? Perhaps they found it in an old ruin that we haven’t accounted for—”

Suddenly, a group of small earth elementals surged from the floor, striking at the hidden church followers, swinging stone fists, shattering ankles and knees.

The church responded with their weapons, sending some back to their home planes, while others escaped, diving back into the ground.

“They’re not giving us even one moment to think!” a priestess shouted.

“Aye, they’ll keep harassing us for sure if we stay put!” their fae ally bellowed. “We have to catch our quarry!”

“Hurry, the Usurper flees!” the Ravener-spawn pointed to the portal the Fool had gone through. The Hunter was already at the other end of the next chamber, diving through a portal.

The distance between prey and predator was growing.

“We must destroy the Fool and his ally and take back what belongs to Uldar!” the First Apostle shouted, his voice filled with passion. “We’ll have to split up! Half of our forces must destroy the giant, while the other half wrings the life-breath from the Fool! Stalker, hedge the Fool in with holy soil! Izas, you go with Uldar’s messenger and pursue the giant, I will call upon the interdiction to trap the Fool! For Uldar’s glory, go!”

“No, I am only here for the Usurper!” Uldar’s messenger roared, spurring his mount into the next room after the Fool. “He must be destroyed!”

A group of hidden church warriors broke from their formation, following Uldar’s messenger in holy duty.

“Wait!” Izas shouted.

###

“Too late.” Birger grinned at the controls, watching as men, women and spawn poured into the next room.

He pressed the button, activating the waiting trap.


#######

Author's Note


Hello FORTY-ONE cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!

So fun fact, this horrible death trap that Alex has lured the church into was loosely inspired by this horrible pyramid dungeon one of my DMs lured my party into. It was a dungeon-maze where every room was connected by teleportation circles that sent you (often randomly) to different parts of the dungeon.

Each room had different horrible monsters, traps and other deadly surprises.  

It traumatized me.

NOW I GET TO GIVE THAT TRAUMA TO FICTIONAL VILLAINS!

Cya tomorrow!