Skye is the Limit by Phenomenal Pen (detective books to read TXT) 📗

“Wait!” the Count hissed in horror. “Where are her legs?”

The Count had made a valid observation. Although the gaps in the Orc Mother’s stomach were closed from above by loose flaps of her skin, the holes themselves were arc-shaped because the Orc Mother’s body terminated right at her waist. It was as though she had been amputated from the waist down. There was nothing there except the vast seat of the Ice Throne.

Translumbar amputation? Nethril thought to herself, remembering the medical term for a very radical and rare surgical procedure. Although it was a cause for celebration that the Orc Mother was sedentary, it still looked horrid. 

“Too bad I’m not half-bird,” Bear Tooth said. “If I were, it would be like taking candy from a baby.”

The berserker spoke too soon because then the Hollow Halls shook with cataclysmic tremors. Pieces of stalactites rained down and some unfortunate Orcs who stood rooted at the wrong spot were crushed. The Dreamwalkers scanned the cave ceiling with saucer-wide eyes.

“Have you not learned anything about the nature of dreams?” Mage said. “Every thought that enters your minds has an effect on the reality here.”

More tremors shook the caverns as the Dreamwalkers watched the Ice Throne crack and crumble. Something alive was struggling to come out of it. More pieces fell and then they were gaping at a titanic metal prosthesis. It resembled a wheelchair but instead of a pair of wheels there were eight jointed legs. The whole thing also ran on steam as evidenced by a smokestack at its rear.   

The Count was stunned by the progress of Orc technology. It vaguely reminded him of a quadruped robot on the surface world called “ANYmal”, which had been manufactured by a Swiss company. That robot had been creepy too, mostly because it looked like a headless, walking dog. Having twice as many legs and moving in a sort of scuttle, the Orc Mother was even more chilling.

As the limbs emerged from the wreckage of the Ice Throne – flexing their joints and folding forwards, stiletto tips stabbing the surface of the ice – the Orc Mother efficiently climbed the rimstone steps down to the glazed bottom. The Count freaked out. He ran away screaming.

“Count, please do not give in to your fear,” Mage said phlegmatically over the radio. “This is precisely the effect she is aiming for. You need to bring your emotions under control.”

Too late. The Orc Mother’s multiple eyes had locked in on the intruder and she threw back her head as though to puff before blowing fire or launching cryogenic spit like the Nidhoggrs. But she didn’t have such an ability. What she had was much worse.

From her leaf-shaped organ, the Orc Mother emitted a rapid series of vibrations which were similar to what the Dreamwalkers had experienced with the olifants in the Uncanny Valley. More than a simple buzzing though, they produced a feeling of fullness in the chest cavity and rattled the chest wall. The vibrations induced nausea in every Dreamwalker, including Nethril on her perch.

Nethril gritted her teeth and covered her ears like the others. Even through the pain, she managed to analyze the discomfort as a combination of migraine, asphyxiation and psychological stress. The sensation was akin to being next to a large sub-woofer, or a whole row of them.      

With a growl, Bear Tooth sidestepped out of his hiding place and slammed down his scutum. He thrust it down so hard that its bottom dug into the ice and the shield stood upright by itself.

As it was with the chimera on the mountain ridge, his action was mirrored on a large scale by a semi-visible force barrier. This auric barrier ballooned and cut the auditory attack, freeing all the Dreamwalkers from torture. They all gasped in relief. No one scrutinized the fact that Bear Tooth’s construct wasn’t exactly a vacuum. They all simply accepted their good fortune as per dream logic.

The Orc Mother stood bewildered in front of the bubble shield. It cocked its head left and right but soon began pounding the obstacle with its massive Orc fists, gorilla-like. The pale gold field rippled wherever her blows landed. 

“Urh, guys,” Bear Tooth said. He had both his hands up and palm out to add durability to his projection. His bushy brows were knit in concentration. “I don’t know how long I can keep her out.”

Indeed, Nethril could see Bear Tooth’s health meter shortening every time the Orc Mother’s fists, which resembled 12, 000-pound wrecking balls, fell. 

“Nethril,” Mage alerted on the Anima radio, “please attach the Möbius strip to an arrowhead and shoot it underneath the Orc Mother’s thorax.”

Nethril had almost forgotten about the item wrapped around her wrist. She had asked Mage about it back at the inn and he explained that it could expand and shrink based on necessity. This was because Möbius strips were technically infinite.

She didn’t know how that was going to help them at this precise moment but she did as Mage instructed. With her hawk-like vision, she loosed an arrow and, surprisingly enough, it flew right through Bear Tooth’s projected barrier. Apparently, attacks and defenses from the same side complemented each other. The arrow buried itself under the Orc Mother’s mechanical prosthesis.