MAGUS INFINITE

I did not need to inform the warband that we would soon be receiving new guests as they had left one of the Shades behind, and he was rushing down the tunnel to meet us.

I turned away from the tunnel and looked at the seated figure, my eyes drawn to the orb it held, and tried to look deeper, and my frown deepened as I noticed that this lifeforce, although powerful, seemed to be extremely chaotic, as if it was a chaotic mix of... I looked at the vast arrays of bodies, and a terrifying thought occurred to me.

All these deaths... was it to feed this crystal?

I gestured towards Ruggah and he moved closer to me. ”How long has Serrath been used as a garrison?”

Ruggah paused as he thought about the question. ”Serrath connects the northern reach to everything south of the Ridge,” he replied. ”There is no other pass that mortals could follow without intruding on divine domains. Four hundred miles east and four hundred west, there is nothing but dangerous cliffs, so whoever holds this place decides who can cross to either side of this part of the continent. You can imagine that a place like this is always highly contested, but no god had ever interfered with Serrath, until now.”

”So a garrison has always been here?”

Ruggah nodded. ”My garrison was supposed to hold it for a hundred years, but we had been here only eleven years, before all... this. There have been other garrisons, each lasting for centuries.”

The frown on my face deepened. ”How long has this been going on?”

”There is a record in my quarters that shows all the garrisons posted here, and it stretches for nine thousand years.” Ruggah straightened his posture, a bit of pride touching his face. ”We have a long history.”

At that point Thurrim moved beside us and pointed out, ”Chief, Serrath’s history goes much deeper than that... some records in the Deepstone place it at almost twenty thousand years, and because no god has interfered with this pass, nearly all races had held it during that period.”

I looked at the rows of bodies stretching into the dark, and then at the figure on the altar, and then at the crystal. So many deaths for a road that could have been easily broadened by a god?

”Nobody has ever held it long,” Ruggah said. ”That is the thing about Serrath that everyone knows. It has always changed hands. The songs call it the Grinding Gate and there is a reason for that.”

”And nobody thought that strange?”

”Why would it be strange? It is the only pass. Of course men die in it.”

I shook my head and looked at the crystal... this place was being used as a contested pass just for someone to be harvesting all this lifeforce. Who would need to slaughter mortals for so long, and why were all the gods seemingly satisfied with this happening?

My thoughts were interrupted as a figure emerged from the shadows of the tunnel behind us, the Shade had arrived, and by now, I knew I was looking at Sef.

He reached us in seconds, his shadowy form rippling with urgency.

”At least a thousand,” he gasped. ”Coming through the tunnel. Armed. Organized. They are dragging something behind them. Nets, maybe filled with bodies. I could not get closer to check.”

The warband went still, and a second later, Ruggah turned to me. ”We can fight them, we have the weapons, and the advantage of surprise.”

I did not answer immediately. I was looking at the tunnel, my senses reaching out, and I found around a thousand soldiers. That was manageable, even if I did not interfere in the battle, the shape of the tunnel would allow the warband to tear through the opposition. Difficult, but manageable.

But there was something else that made my blood cold, as there was something at the head of the column that radiated power like a star.

I shook my head. ”We cannot fight this.”

Ruggah opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.

”Listen to me carefully. There is something powerful coming through the tunnel, so we need more information before we make any move.”

Ruggah paused, and frowned. ”Are you sure about this? If we give up this advantage, the battle ahead may become something none of us survive if we are surrounded.”

I met his gaze. ”If you stand here... your warband will die.”

Ruggah looked at the tunnel, then at me. His single eye was troubled, but he nodded.

”What do we do?”

”We retreat,” I said. ”We find another way out.”

I turned to look at the chamber, at the vast field of bodies, and the darkness that stretched beyond the altar. There had to be another exit... there was always another exit.

”The field,” I pointed out. ”We hide in the field, wait for them to pass, and then we find a way out.”

”Field of bodies,” Ogg muttered in disgust.

I urged my Drakespawn forward. The beast was reluctant, its scales rippling with fear, but it obeyed. The others followed, and we moved into the field of bodies.

∞

The dead were arranged in neat rows, and we positioned ourselves among the bodies, lying flat, our weapons hidden beneath us. The Drakespawn crouched low, their scales blending with the grey stone of the floor. The Shades vanished into the shadows, becoming one with the darkness.

And then we waited.

The sounds from the tunnel grew louder, and soon the warband was able to hear the tramp of boots, and the creak of wheels, and not long after, even Tam and Ines were able to hear the grunts of men straining under heavy loads.

I frowned a bit, aware that I had just drawn information from the minds of Tam and Ines without even looking at them.

Not long after, figures began to emerge from the tunnel in a steady stream, filling the chamber with their numbers. They were a mix of races, but I could immediately see that they were much more organised than the first party we had come across.

They dragged nets behind them, nets filled with bodies, and I held back a curse when I noticed that the dead did not appear to be soldiers but civilians, most of them wearing normal clothes and not armor.

It would seem that with the destruction of Serrath, the pretense of making this place a garrison had been thrown away and now they were just gathering bodies outside the pass.

I watched as they worked, unloading the nets, arranging the bodies in the rows that stretched across the chamber. They were not speaking, but their work was efficient.

I was not focused on these people but on the sensation of power rippling across my senses, until I found him.

He was a Beastkin, tall and muscular, dressed in black robes that shimmered as if they were made from scales, but the head was not human, instead it was a serpent.

His scales gleamed in the sickly green light, dark green and gold, patterns that shifted as he moved. I could see his eyes were yellow, slit-pupiled, and unblinking, while his tongue flickered out, tasting the air.

I heard Ruggah gasp beside me, and I saw something in his expression that I had not seen before... fear.

”That,” he whispered, ”is one of the sons of the Naga. All sons of the Naga are Minor Gods.”