“Your friends are in danger,” Pesephone’s child-avatar stated as Araxes pulled another book from the shelf.

“I have no friends, child,” Araxes said, glancing through the book pages before tossing it aside. It held what would likely be a fascinating treatise on the merits of using five-space quasi-dimensions as holding cells for extra-planar beings, if one were to say prop one’s eyelids open with sticks and pay a large bohemian to jab you with a cattle prod every ten minutes to wake you up while reading it.

“You do not count those with whom you consort as friends?” She reached out and caught the book before it touched the floor and carefully and reverently replaced it back in the bookshelf in its proper spot.

“Acquaintances at best,” the lich said with a snort and grabbed another book at random. “I’ve not had ‘friends’ for two hundred years. One rather gets past the need for them after one has settled into the routine of death and wielding limitless power.”

Bugruk(Generalissimo): Fire!

Tilly(BuggyBabe): Arrows away! Mages, get ready!

“You are unconcerned for them? If they do not succeed in fending off this attack, you will be trapped in here forever. As will this aspect of my consciousness. If not for their welfare, are you not at least selfishly motivated to care for their success?”

“Of course I—“ The lich stopped and was silent for a long moment. Then he turned, equally as slowly, and eyed the child-avatar.

“This aspect,” he repeated slowly. “As in ‘this is but a portion of your consciousness, not in fact the entirety of who and what you are.”

“Yes,” the child-avatar said, nodding. “I am present here only in part. The rest of me is elsewhere.”

“But not active,” Araxes said, tilting his head as his thought processes sparked to life and sped wildly towards distant conclusions. “Tolliver told me your shell in the real world has gone dormant, and that your consciousness is no longer responding to any attempts at communication.”

She regarded him steadily. “Is there a point to your speculation?”

“It’s bloody stupid, is my point,” Araxes said clinically. “Everything about this entire setup is utterly absurd. I am locked in a room said to contain the knowledge of the ages, but with no method of attaining that knowledge save reading books one at a time to see if they contain the information I require? You deliberately shut yourself down into a fugue state at the same time, preventing all outside communication? Then you lead me on—“ He stopped again, and this time his eyeflames narrowed as he regarded the child.

“Bloody hell,” He muttered after a moment. “That’s it, isn’t it? ‘Leading me on’ is exactly it.”

“I do not understand your meaning. Will you continue searching these shelves for the information you desire? If not, I will return you to the central area.”

“You know, it is intriguing,” Araxes said as more and more pieces fell into place. “When Tolliver became guardian for your sister, Sally, it was not a smooth transition. He was identified as an intruder by some core process of hers, and in true Sally fashion dumped into a maze that attempted to kill him at every turn. Some aspect of her, a failsafe, was triggered.

“Now, were I a suspicious animated corpse, I would wonder: might a similar failsafe reside within you, another core that is part of a whole, now broken? And while Sally is a being of pure offense and so possessed of overt security measures, might a core devoted to knowledge and understanding have a subtler touch in her security measures?”

The lich turned from the child-avatar to look at the rotting skeletons on the floor, their eye sockets locked on each other, their hands clutching each other close.

“Everything I know about you and your sisters points to some degree of competency in your construction. You were an entity designed to fight God, after all. One would scarcely imagine your creators intentionally making it difficult to access those areas your Guardian would need in order to effectively manage that fight.”

The child-avatar of Persephone stared at him wordlessly, and for a moment—so fast he might have thought he imagined it if he were a fallible bag of flesh without the perfect recall of death—he saw a shadow pass behind her eyes.

“This is not a repository of knowledge,” Araxes said quietly, raising a finger and then leveling it at her in accusation.

“This is a trap. And like these poor fools here on the floor, I have fallen headlong into it.”

* * *

*Achievement Unlocked: Fight In The Shade*

*Achievement Unlocked: One Shot, One Kill*

*Achievement Unlocked: I… Have no gate key.*

Nat screamed and cowered behind the protective crenelations as the wall beneath and around him heaved and shuddered like a living thing. Achievements scrolled past his eyes on Sam’s glasses, but he could barely get a glance at them before something else exploded nearby and showered him with stone chips. In the corner of the display, his healthbar flashed and dropped by a handful of hitpoints, stolen away by the shrapnel.

His one shot had struck home. He’d seen it slam into a minotaur’s eye, as if he’d been the greatest shot in the world, even though it had been a pure fluke. He’d gotten a bunch of notifications about level-ups and essence—and those weird achievements. Other attackers had died in the hail of bolts and arrows, and for one brief shining moment Nat had felt like they actually had a chance.

Then the monsters had responded.

Fire blazed over the top of the wall, washing over a pair of goblin archers. They screamed. Once. Then fell from the wall and hit the ground, shattering into ash and bone. The huge two-headed hellhound thing that had breathed the fiery blast then reared up on its hind legs and slammed its front paws against the stone wall—almost halfway up the wall. The thing was massive, and the wall shook under the impact.

“Hey!” The angel laughed and leaned over the wall, doing something that caused light and head and an explosion of noise down amongst the attackers. “Can’t shoot anybody from down there, man! Stand up and do some good!”

It was as if the gods themselves had issued a proclamation to him specifically. The fear didn’t diminish, but he felt something else rise up within him to balance it out. Slowly, trembling, he forced himself back up. With jerky motions he reloaded the crossbow, placed another quarrel in the groove, and raised it to his shoulder.

Enemies swarmed along the base of the wall likes ants from a kicked hill. Hundreds of them, milling and hammering against the magicked stonework as missiles and spells from the defenders rained down upon them. Some were trying to climb the walls, with varying degrees of suc—

Check that, with very notable success, in one case. One of the spider-men erupted over the balustrade right in front of Nat, all shining black body and spindly jagged limbs and a humanoid torso covered in red chitin and a face with a segmented jaw that opened in four directions and hissed out the most devilish shriek Nat had ever heard in his life!

Nat screamed and backpedaled, then caught himself just before he pitched backwards off the wall. His hands jerked the crossbow up, almost like a shield, getting it between himself and those terrible jaws. The thing had a long sword in one hand that swept back and down at Nat.

He didn’t remember firing. One second he was watching the sharpest swordblade he’d ever seen in his life coming right at his nose, the next moment he was standing over a corpse. The spider-man had a quarrel right between his eyes, and as Nat looked he saw that the top of the wall had flowed up around the creature’s segmented legs, trapping it in place. Had… Had he done that?

He heard noises and felt that people were shouting all around him, but his brain was having trouble processing what was going on. Something warm and sticky trikled down the side of his head, and when he reached up to touch it his fingers came away bloody.

“Hey! Hey! You good?” Someone was shouting at him. Someone with the voice of an angel. A very cheesed off angel. Slowly, he turned his head, and there she was, freckle-faced and gap-toothed, staring intently at him.

“Mushroom,” he said.

“Oh boy,” the angel muttered, then reached down with both hands, placed them on his shoulders, and shook. Nat’s head bounced back and forth like a rag doll for a moment before he remembered how his muscles worked.

“Kid, snap out of it. Now is not the time to go all catatonic on me. You can lie down for a good cry and thumb-suck after we’ve kicked these creeps back to the curb, alright? Now snap out of it!”

She followed it up with a slap. It wasn’t a had slap, but it left his cheek stinging. And the pain became a focal point. His mind fixated on it, anchored itself to it, and drew itself back from whatever brink it had been dangling from and back to firm ground.

He looked up to see those blue eyes staring into his even as the angel casually lifted a hand and blew something with far too many faces to bits with some kind of energy bolt.

“You good?” she asked, not looking away.

“No,” Nat growled from his foundation. “But I’ll make it.”

“Good!” She slapped him again, a comradely slap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him over, and turned back to the battle. Nat drew in a deep breath and reloaded his crossbow, then stepped back up to the wall.

In the few minutes he had lost, things had begun to deteriorate. The wall was being mounted in several places by climbing enemies. A bundle of goblins farther down were hacking at some kind of giant chameleon creature that breathed lightning. Past that, a trio of guardsmen were engaged with twice their number of spider-things, and were losing. Nat glanced below and saw minotaurs and those hell-hound things hacking away at the base of the wall… But no, there were men in danger.

He shifted aim and sent a quarrel singing into the back of one of the spider-things. One nice thing about being an elf, he reflected as the thing shrieked and spun, clutching in vain for the shaft sticking up between its shoulderblades, was proficiency with bows and crossbows of all types. It was almost worth the constant ‘knife-ear’ slurs.

He followed that up by diving into his Seismagic and casting a spell. This time he saw it as the wall underneath the spider-things flowed and shifted and shot up, tripping them and entangling them and in two cases encasing their weapon-hands completely. The guardsmen, obviously veterans of some kind, barely hesitated before rushing forward to take advantage of the distractions.

Nat turned away, then. He wasn’t sure if the guards would be triumphant in their battle, but that was their lookout. He’d done what he could for them, and now he needed to focus elsewhere.

Bugruk(Commander-In-Chair): Seismages, we’ve got a breach in the wall near the mountain. Nat, Dink, Treble, get over there and seal it up.

Nathaniel: On it.

He spun away from the wall and bolted down the line, ducking past combatants and enemies all at once. He was so focused he almost lost his head to another spider-thing’s sword, but an eruption of light blew it back before it could finish its swing. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the Angel throw him a happy wave before she returned to her destruction.

I have my very own guardian angel, the thought trilled through him even as he ran.

He was going to buy her so many beers after this was all over…

He reached the breach just as the other seismages started casting. An orc and a gnome, neither of which Nat had ever met before. But they obviously knew their stuff from the way they were going about it.

The breach was maybe six feet wide and ten high, sections of brick and mortar having been simple slammed out of existence by some violent attack. In front of the breach were a human women with short swords and shields, fighting in a concerted rythm that suggested they’d done this before, and often. Shieldmaidens, he thought Sam had called them. And right now they were up to their helmets in ogres, minotaurs, and one very fat troll who looked like it really didn’t want to be there.

“We’ve got the foundation,” the goblin said, his arms pinwheeling madly as he cast his spells. “Get the sides!”

“Right,” Nat dropped his crossbow and started casting. He felt the mana flow out of him, and his hands started to glow in a heartbeat pulse as he cast his Stoneshape spell, reaching out with his magic, feeling the sturdiness of the stone and mortar in the wall, and gently chivvying it to loosen and flow. It was like convincing a toddler to put down his favorite toy, bribe it with something else it wanted. And the stone wanted to be connected to its brethren again.

The spell build and built within him, growing and growing until finally he felt it ready to be cast. He opened his eyes and nearly lost it all when he saw five huge minotaurs charging through the gap, gigantic axes raised and ready to kill. All of them looking right at him.

He acted on pure instinct. The spell cast, the wall trembled, and then the breach snapped closed faster than an eyeblink. Two of the minotaurs made it through unscathed. The other three didn’t even have time to scream before they became part of the mortar holding the new section of wall together.

“Nice!” The gnome squeaked in approval. “A fine demonstration of rubber-banding! Tell me, are you classically trained? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that technique before.”

“Treble,” the goblin shot the gnome a look. “Not the time.”

“Oh. Right, yes, of course.” The short woman tugged at her long eyebrows and bowed in apology. “Perhaps when this frivolity had ended I might pick your brain some? I’ve always admired the elven school of seismagic. Most people associate your people with trees and forests and greenery, it is always—“

“Treble,” The goblin said, reaching forward to bonk her lightly on the back of the head. “Not the time.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

Nat barked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all on this battlefield was simply too much. “I’d be happy to talk to you later,” he said, still laughing as he retrieved his crossbow. “Let’s both make sure to survive this so we can, right?”

“Of course!” She said brightly. “In that case, let us return to our posts and see about driving these wretches—“

The explosion must have been nearby. The blast front picked Nat up off his feet, spun him in mid air, and flung him to land upside-down almost twenty feet away, where he skidded painfully on the earth. Rocks and debris pelted him, and larger chunks of what had before been a section of wall thudded down around him, narrowly missing crushing him wholesale.

He struggled to sit up, wiping grit and grime from his eyes, and then blinked stupidly at what he saw before him.

Half the wall was gone. A breach not even the highest-level seismage could hope to close had been ripped right in the center of the edifice. Defenders lay strewn about like jetsam, and so as Nat looked were the attackers. Neither side had been expecting that explosion, and it had taken a toll on them both.

But the attackers had more bodies to throw into the grinder, didn’t they?

He struggled back to his feet. His crossbow was gone. He had cuts and bruises all over his body, and a quick glance at his health bar in his display showed it had dropped to less than half. Quickly he reached into a pouch at his side and drew out a pack of health pills—so much sturdier than the healing potions favored by most adventurers, even if they weren’t as potent—and dry-swallowed a half-dozen of them. His health bar flashed and started to raise.

Jack (Something Clever): Shit. Buggs, we lost the wall. Some kind of Boom-Keg, I think. We’ve got twenty seconds before the next wave starts pouring through.

Bugruk(Commander-In-Chair): Shit. Okay, everyone retreat to the second line. We’ll have to fight them house-to-house, sacrifice space for time. Jack, coordinate the retreat. Annie, get some delaying fighters ready.

Annie (Something Clever): On it.

Jackson (Something Clever): Got it.

Nat stared as the defenders started to fall back. They fought as they did so, taking out monsters and attackers with almost every step backwards they took. But more always seemed to take their place. Even with the Angel standing in the breach, beating back gigantic enemies with powerful strikes and wild magic, it was obvious that this position was no longer defensible.

But they hadn’t had time to erect other defenses. Which meant that Melloram was going to fall. His home for the past six months, where his friends lived.

Where his family was.

Cold water sliced down his spine and he felt his heart stop. Zed and Emmy were still in Melloram. He hadn’t even stopped to think about them when he’d volunteered for this. He hadn’t even thought about them as the monstrous waves had crashed down on them all. And now his family was in danger, in grave danger.

Again.

Something snapped in Nat’s chest, and he felt a fire rage up from his belly to cast aside the ice water and roar into a bonfire in his head.

No. No he couldn’t let that happen. He was a seismage, the son of Elwood Sand-In-His-Shoes, and friend to Sam Tolliver, the world’s only Guardian. He had to stand. He had to protect the people who were counting on him.

The thought of Sam brought up an idea. Hadn’t he used one of his powers to summon help from somewhere during the battle under the town hall? Yeah! In fact, he’d summoned up Tilly, hand’t he? The little gobliness was now standing next to the angel in the breach, her metallic monstrosities flinging themselves time and time again into the oncoming horde.

Yeah. Yeah! And Sam had given him that medallion, that passed on that particular power, hadn’t he? Obviously he couldn’t summon Tilly, she was already here and causing all kinds of havoc. But if he could find someone or something similar, something powerful enough to shore up the defenses and turn the tide long enough for the seismages to erect some new defenses…

Yeah.

He didn’t tell anyone what he was planning. Not yet. First he had to see if there was even a chance. It wasn’t a power he’d used before, and maybe there would be restrictions, or maybe there wouldn’t be anything. He fumbled open the menu, moving clumsily through the unfamiliar interface. The sounds of battle intensified, and he glanced up to see a trio of hellhounds bound over the wall into a knot of defenders, scattering them like ninepins.

Faster. Move faster.

He found the Guardian Summons power and activated it. A new menu popped up, a list of names and creature types, and of costs. He scrolled down and down into the more powerful summons, and felt his heart sink. They required essence and resources to summon. A lot. And while a glance at his resource bar showed him he had a decent amount of Essence stored, it wasn’t nearly enough for the more powerful summons like the Gnome Steam Tank or the Dwarven Bombadier Squad.

But he kept scrolling. Maybe, maybe he would get lucky. Maybe there would be a specialized unit for just this kind of situation. A portable wall, maybe. Or a defender of such immovability that nothing could get past it. Maybe—

He got to the end of the list.

There was nothing.

He felt his heart drop into his boots. All this power, all this ability, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do. His class was built for construction, not for offense. His guardian powers were nearly useless against forces like this. And the enemy continued to pour in, forcing even the Angel and Tilly away from the breach—though they paid dearly for every step.

There had to be something he could do. There had to be—

A new entry appeared on the Guardian Summons list, along with a new achievement.

*Achievement Unlocked: Welcome, to Jurassic Park*

A Unique Genetic Sample in your possession has acquired enough ambient essence—probably from all that killin’ you’ve been doing—to take on new life. Just remember to make sure the fences are all working and that there isn’t a random fat man working all your security. Also don’t send the only black guy out to check the fuses. Trust us.

Reward: Check your spawn tables, mister Hammond.

And on the list, at the very bottom, where the most powerful summons lurked, the new entry:

Quentin-Of-The-Skies

Level 78

Cost: (Special)

Description: Holy crap it’s a dragon. A freaking Ancient Red Wyrm. Why are you still reading this? Why haven’t you clicked the button yet? Did you miss the part about dragon?

DRAGON.

Nat stared. How in— The scale. He yanked it from his inventory, and felt the warmth of life emanating from it, and saw the glow of fire pulsing around it.

Quentin.

Yeah. That would work.

He pressed the button.