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Marcenko continued, “Well, this mage, I think his name is Sordnal the Magnificent.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Yeah, me neither `til yesterday. He bought the jewel from a family in the Acheronian Swamp.”
Daemona cringed. “Ugh, that’s a place I’ll be happy to never visit.”
“I know, right? Well, Sordnal got the jewel from one of the great old families there that needed the money. Crowns are hard to come by all over.”
“Stick to facts, not your personal problems.”
“Yes ma’am. It’s supposed to be a gift for King Graymont from this Sordnal. Maybe he wants to become the court wizard? Maybe it’s his way of saying he’s sorry Princess Tamar was kidnapped?” Marcenko quit speaking and held out his hand for his fee.
Daemona frowned. “I’m not paying for your opinion on common knowledge.”
“If it’s so common, how come you didn’t hear about it?” he said, smugly, then instantly regretted it and stepped back a pace.
She sighed, wrapping her fingers across her folded arms. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Sordnal has not delivered the jewel yet. But it will be under extreme guard within the Tower of the Octopus. More than a dozen knights at the bottom and who knows how many more all the way up that spiral staircase.”
“What else?”
“Probably some traps, a vault, or some special type of guardian. I don’t know what.” He shrugged.
Daemona felt like she was pulling teeth getting the information out of Marcenko. Strange, he isn’t usually so close-lipped. But a girl has to make a living these days, doesn’t she? But this would be a big score, maybe the biggest she had yet pulled off.
She tossed him a gold Crown. “You forget we had this conversation,” she ordered. “Don’t tell anyone you spoke to me about it.”
She was walking away when he mumbled after her. “Daemona, please. I got a bad feeling about this. I’m asking you to reconsider, just this once. Don’t do it.” He shook his head with the sorriest look on his face she had ever seen.
Daemona glanced him up and down and with a smirk said, “I have to, or life isn’t worth living.”
It took minimal time to get her gear together, and then she was climbing the Tower of the Octopus. Its walls were white and slick, but with her dragon-toe shoes she could slide the small, flat claws into the tiny cracks between the stones and leverage herself up, one step at a time. If she had a good feeling about the cracks above, she would teleport herself about ten feet higher, letting the claws dig into the cracks just enough to hold her, and then up she went again. It was tedious, but better than fighting her way past a dozen guardsmen at the bottom and who knows how many up the spiral staircase.
The moon was on its way down when Daemona reached the top. She climbed onto one of the tentacle-like projections and teleported herself from beam to beam, to look in the tower windows. But only half of the tower had any windows; there were none on the north-facing side of the tower. Curious. She would have to enter through those on the south side. She inched her way to the shuttered windows, ever watchful. Nudging the shutter, she tested it, sensing for any sign of a trap. Nothing. This might be easier than I thought. She pushed the shutter in and jumped down onto the landing below. Perhaps no one believed anyone could make that climb?
The room was bare, save for a few bits of furniture, a sagging bookcase, a locked chest, a desk, and a huge suit of bizarre, rust-red armor. Daemona had expected something grander, to say the least. But there were still two doors. One hung open, revealing a spiral staircase that dropped into darkness. The other was barred with heavy wrought-iron bands and a massive lock that was fashioned to look like an anthropomorphized face of an octopus.
The face plate on the suit of armor was open, exposing an empty hollow as she knocked on its breast-plate. A dull thud, thud, thud revealed nothing except a slight showering of red dust. The bizarre armor was gargantuan, coated in rust, and had six arms, each holding a weapon of some kind: sword, mace, flail, ax, club, and whip. The kind of creature that could have worn such a thing was beyond Daemona’s reckoning. It must have belonged to some unholy chimera in ancient days.
A glance at the book case and desk revealed it was covered in dust and had not seen use in some time. It couldn’t be in the treasure chest, could it? She picked the latch with ease, a skill that came naturally to her, and found nothing.
Daemona searched the desk, the bookcase, and even glanced down the dark stairwell. Nothing. She tried the locked door to find what lurked behind it. She moved a finger to touch the lock. It sparked when she was less than an inch away.
Daemona leaned back instinctively. She teleported faster than she thought possible. A whip of crackling energy swung, trying to grasp her about the waist but caught only air. Daemona was gone. Then she was ten feet away, getting her bearings. The suit of armor had come to life! The rust-red golem immediately corrected and reached for her with sword and ax. She dodged, jumping over and ducking under the multiple arms flailing wildly at her. Daemona backflipped away, then leapt onto the desk and ported away again just as three of the six weapons slammed down, smashing the desk to kindling.
This golem isn’t a mindless automaton, it’s a deadly spell: a thing born of sorcery itself.
Rushing at her, the spidery knight had flecks of rust flaking from it. Sparks of energy crackled within the armor, the source of its magical animation revealed. Lashing out, it sparked its electrical whip across the interior walls of the tower, blackening the stones. Striking the bookcase, it sent the books flying, pages burning as the combustibles in the room caught fire.
The Elephant Heart jewel must be worth more than Daemona imagined for it to warrant this powerful of a guardian . . . but she didn’t want to just port into a room she couldn’t see; she might land herself right into a nest of spikes or a vat of acid.No good porting where I can’t see—doing that could get me killed.
Daemona had to at least get a look through the keyhole first.
She ported up to the window ledge. Would the rust knight follow her out? Scuttling along the floor, it came closer, reaching for her.
Daemona went back out the window, carefully balancing along the extending tentacle beam. She stepped to the far edge of the beam, more than fifteen feet out into the open air, a hundred feet from the ground below. The rusty golem followed, gripping the window sill and pulling its massive bulk after her.
