Tenebroum

Chapter 196: A Shedding of Skin

Once the mess was cleaned up and the forges were going at full speed again, the Lich no longer felt afraid. Intellectually, Tenebroum knew that it was still weaker than it had been, and the defenses it currently had were minimal compared to what it had marshaled before. It was no longer in mortal peril, though. There was no crusader army on the march toward it, and other than the Moon Goddess and Malkezeen, there were none that could harm it without giving the Lich ample warning.

Now, the endless desolation that surrounded it was as powerful as any army. The area all around its domain was empty. What would an invading army eat or drink now that the upper half of the Oroza had been poisoned and the lower half had been turned to salt water?

The plants and even the trees had died for dozens of miles around Blackwater and its poison river. Things were desolate even as far away as Fallravea. There was only just enough wilted foliage left to see the damage left behind by Malzekeen’s rampage as the beast carved a trail through anything that might bar its way as it went to the northeast.

It traveled almost in a straight line, and in the direction that line led, it might have gone to sack Rahkin or to sniff out something in the ruins of Siddrimar or Abenend, but the Lich did not care. For the time being, as long as its direction was away, that was all that mattered. Well, that and the fact that it was growing. The footprints that its blackbirds had sighted amidst the wreckage that the ghastly chimera left in its wake were growing ever larger. Though it was a wolf, for the most part, it had always been more of a lion in size. Now, though, the thing was approaching the size of a warhorse based on its stride.

Part of the Lich sorely wished that it could strip the thing down to its bones to use it for parts, but given the risk of contamination, that would be impossible. Even now, the gold that had made up its original focus was locked in an iron-bound check and tucked away in a locked room with anything else that might be contaminated, just to avoid another brush with that monster. However, if it could find a way to reverse that link. If it could drain power from Malkazeen rather than be drained by it, then perhaps…

The Lich pushed that thought down in annoyance. Such a task might work, but it was phenomenally dangerous, and now was not the right time to be tempting fate.

Now that its mind was a chorus of nearly a hundred smaller cores, those small side trips would frequently assail it. It wasn’t that it lacked focus; it was that it was capable of focusing on so many different things that parts of it could get sidetracked on a novel thought before it dumped the information into the Skoeticnomikos and moved on to more important topics. Tenebroum was concerned that such an arrangement could hamper it in the heat of battle, but for now, that was a safely theoretical problem. After all, if properly channeled, it might yet be an advantage and—

The Lich shut down that thought as well. While it was focused on optimizing everything it could, such concerns were not its most urgent issue. Once its own form was perfected, it would rally its minions and lay waste to anyone who stood against it, even that miserable hound.

That was easier to say than to do, though. It was one thing to make pronouncements and plans, but given how much work needed to be done… It was a massive undertaking.

Its soul web had to be rewired, and many glyphs and sigils had to be carved or connected in different ways. No matter how many drudges it had, thanks to salvaging the fallen and putting its dead acolytes to work, it was never enough. Eventually, even its long-dormant honor guard was pressed into service just for want of more hands. That was appropriate, it supposed, since, in its way, Tenebroum was molting. For so long, it had been bound by its own skin, but now it could shed it, becoming something new and more dangerous, no matter how painful that process might be.

Fortunately, its conquests up to this point had prepared it well for it. Even if there was enough gold and silver, though, it never felt like it. Whole kingdoms' worth of coinage were being melted down and reformed into arcane objects that it could use to splice together its plans. Even the vast treasure trove that was Siddrim’s bones would only go so far. Still, day by day, the transformation took place. Eventually, the Lich was not an entity that dwelled within its lair. It was its lair. It was stone as much as shadow.

That change was hammered home when it started the long overdue process of splicing the steam organ into the dozens of phylacteries that held pieces of its soul. For its entire existence, the Lich had been forced to speak and cast spells through intermediaries, but now it would do so with its own steam-powered voice at a volume that would shake the very earth.

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Normally, it was the fragility of the human brain and their vocal cords that limited the power of their spells, along with their puny intellect, but with this new arrangement… the Lich’s mind balked at the things that it should be capable of now if only it had the energy to fuel such titanic works.

Still, not every endeavor was successful, and even those that were were not always quick. With every change it made, another optimization was discovered, and another bit of work needed to be done. There was always more work to be done.

One minute, a whole section of the web was working fine, and then next, it collapsed under its own weight. Soon, those thick gold wires were wound around and through the spines of a thousand unfortunate souls as its foul works of magic and artifice spread from the core of the labyrinth to the spokes of the ring that surrounded it. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Tenebroum was only when it was partway through this continuing process of replacement and rebirth that it realized how different it had become. The oldest tunnels on the first three floors were built at random to be as confusing as possible. They resembled the heart of a termite mound more than anything that had been built by the hands of man. In more recent years, the rooms that had been added were created with the needs of industry in mind.

Things were linked in a way that optimized logistics and allowed for the addition of chimneys for the forges and ventilation for the humans once the living had come to the depths in the wake of its ascension. Even though they were gone now, their shrines and cathedrals remained. Those were the true heart of the Lich now. It was the undertemple that those braided spines wove their way to.

That and the dark well it was digging even now that would sink through all 6 floors, connecting the temple to the throne room and completing the giant magical circuit that would finally connect everything. This new configuration was physically much more vulnerable than the old one had been. Once someone gained entry it could proceed straight to the heart of things without much opposition. That no longer mattered, though, since there was nothing at the heart for them to strike at.

Tenebroum was no longer one dead mage, covered in gold and filled with darkness. It was so much more than that now. It was more like the terrible vision it had experienced so long ago while it was devouring Siddrim’s soul. It was a vast and terrible tree of bone laden heavily with rotted golden fruit. Even now, its roots were burrowing ever deeper into the earth to feast on the shadows there.

It had to. Tenebroum’s other sources of power had dwindled greatly at this point.

Its acolyte and their prayers were gone. The Oroza was so deadened that it drew almost nothing from those poisonous waters now. There were still some prayers coming from the villages its armies had spared in the western provinces between Constantinal and Rahkin, along with the ever-dutiful worship of the lizard man from their thriving village high in the mountains. Other than that, though, Tenebroum relied on a seemingly endless amount of reserves that had been built up over years of slaughter and bloodshed.

As it racked its collective minds for other options, it realized there was still one source of blood and death left: the goblins. Those vermin all belonged to it on some level now. For generations, they had fought in its name. Reaching out, even to the Red Hills, proved to be a challenge for the Lich, but with some effort that night, it succeeded.

This time, it did not try to champion one group over another. It was not looking to forge them into a single army. It simply wanted bloodshed, which was much easier to accomplish. That wish echoed out like a drop of water in a still pond and inflamed the whole region in an instant.

To a casual observer, that wasn’t much different than any other night, for the greenskins warred with each other constantly, but this was different. This was not battle, nor were they raids for things goblins actually needed, like flesh and territory. This was a berserk slaughter, and it warmed the darkness more than anything had since that terrible night that Malkezeen had been reborn.

This will be enough, the Lich told itself as it drank in all the blood and the suffering. This will be enough for what I need to do next.

This was not something it could do every night, of course. As goblins died by the score, it realized it would take weeks or months for their numbers to rise high enough for another harvest. Until then, it could always rely on its other, smaller fonts of power, though.

Those wouldn’t run out any time soon, but they weren’t enough. Not for what it needed, or for what it was planning. When all of Tenebroum’s modifications were done to its giant stony body, it would be able to channel truly impossible forces. It would be able to conjure storms that would make the maelstrom that a now-dead archmage had once tried to drown it with look like nothing but a spring squall.

It would need power to do that, though, which meant murder on an industrial scale or other, stranger methods. Still, for now, it drained every last erg of power it could from smaller projects that were not is use. Once it had harvested everything it could from the dying region. There was only one place it could think of gathering more power from, and that was from the heavens above. As the Tenebroum gazed skyward, looking at the throbbing darkness that lay just beyond the web of stars, it cursed itself for being an idiot. It should have tapped such a limitless reservoir long ago.

The fact that it didn’t was inexcusable. Never mind that it could never have held so much overflowing power before. Now it could, and soon it would drink its fill.