The Builder's Pride (The Legendary Builder Book 3) Page 9

  “Was that supposed to happen?” Annabeth mumbled just before a wrinkly old dwarven woman with a long black beard and a completely shaved head descended from the darkness above on wings of glittering gold. She was wearing a blood red armor and had a huge double-bladed axe over one shoulder. As her booted feet touched down, she grinned at us, revealing a toothless, gummy mouth.

  “Welcome, travelers,” she said, voice like the whipping desert winds. She looked us over with eyes that were little more than complete and utter darkness. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Um… no,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is.” She grinned at me and rocked back on her heels expectantly. “So, you should ask who I am.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” I said, suddenly worried this was the guardian that the scorpions had told me was a bitch. “Who are you?”

  “I am Sathanus.” The dwarf’s grin turned fierce as she looked me up and down. “But you may know me as Wrath.” She pointed her axe at me, and literal flame exploded from beneath her feet, turning the jade platform where she stood into slag. “Why have you come into my sacred tunnels?”

  “Wait, you’re Wrath?” I said, suddenly excited even though from the look of things I ought to be scared. “Like the Princess of Wrath, Wrath?”

  “Yes!” she boomed, taking a step toward me, and when I didn’t take a step back, she stopped. Confusion spread across her face as she looked me over once more. “Why do you not fear me, human?”

  “This is great!” I said, turning to Annabeth and grinning stupidly. “Can you believe our luck?”

  “Do you have a definition for luck I’m not aware of?” Annabeth asked, and as she spoke, I realized her face had paled, and her knees were shaking. She was definitely scared, but I couldn’t figure out why. I mean, this was the Princess of Wrath, after all. Surely, she’d help me. After all, I was the Builder!

  “Mortal,” Sathanus, Princess of Wrath snapped, drawing my attention back to her. “Explain yourself this instant.” She pointed her axe at me again. “Or else.”

  “I’m the Legendary Builder.” I jabbed my chest with my thumb. “I needed to find you so I could get your blessing and Armament.” I nodded. “Then we can fight the Darkness!”

  “You’re the Builder?” Sathanus snorted. “That’s impossible. You’re much too scrawny, you don’t have a beard.” She looked me up and down. “And you do not have Clarent.”

  “I broke Clarent,” I said sheepishly. “I was helping Mammon, and it shattered. That’s actually why I’m here. I need the dwarves to teach me to mine Stygian Iron so I can repair it, and they requested I come fight a dragon down here in exchange for their help.”

  “You mean to tell me you’re here to fight the dragon who rules my roost?” She glanced from me to Annabeth and back again. “And all you brought is a girl who is equipped with gear she found from my minions?” She shook her head. “You are on a fool’s errand.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, suddenly confused. “I found you. That’s already the best thing that’s happened today.”

  “Wait, you wanted to find me?” Sathanus shook her head, cheeks flushing. “No one ever wants to find me.” She smacked her chest with one hand, and a resounding clang echoed through the cavern. “I am the raging fire that burns the whole town, the enemy who sneaks up when you least expect it to drive a knife into your gut, the—”

  “The Archangel of Wrath.” I finished, interrupting her. “I’ve got it.”

  She stood there for a moment looking at me. “I do not understand why you’ve sought me, Builder.” She shook her head. “It is unwise. After all, there is a reason I have been sealed down here since your species was born.”

  “Maybe she’s right, Arthur,” Annabeth said, moving closer to me and taking my hand. “Perhaps we should just go.”

  “At least one of you has sense.” Sathanus’s eyes flitted to Annabeth. “Good woman you have there. You should listen to her.”

  Instead of responding immediately, I reached into my satchel and pulled out the book Gabriella had given me. The Once and Former Builder. I flipped it open, and like I’d thought, there was a new section showing the archangel in question. I didn’t have time to read it now, but that was okay.

  “You’re in my book.” I showed her the page. “That means we can help each other.” I smiled at her. “It also means I am who I say I am.”

  “Why am I in your book?” the dwarven archangel asked, moving closer and peering at it. “And why is there a picture of my pants on the next page?” She gestured at her lower half, and I realized she was correct. The pair of armored pants listed as her Armament looked like the ones she was wearing. They were the color of flesh spilled blood and made of linked hoops of chain.

  “That is the Armament you can provide me to defeat the Darkness.” I smiled at her, glad I didn’t need to craft the item. Getting the materials to craft the Unrelenting Grips of Greed had been damned near impossible.

  “You want me to give you my pants?” Sathanus asked, taking a step backward, face scrunched up in confusion. “What will I wear then?” She shook herself. “Unless you mean for me to be naked?” She took a step backward. “Look, I’m flattered, really, but…”

  “Huh?” I said because I’d already been envisioning myself with another Armament. With hers, Mammon’s, and Lucifer’s I’d have three, and while that wasn’t Dred’s five, it was a hell of a lot closer than I’d been yesterday. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be your pants.” I gestured at her legs. “Those would never fit me.”

  Sathanus grew very still. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  “What? No, not at all.” I shook my head, wishing I had Clarent. If I did, I could have just looked at the tooltip attached to her pants and known if they were the right ones. Still, I was willing to bet the Armament wasn’t meant to be her actual pants. “I’m saying look at you and me. I’m much taller than you, and your legs are big enough to crush my skull like a melon. There’s no way I could wear them.”

  “You are calling me fat.” The Archangel of Wrath glared at me. “And short.”

  “Look.” I rubbed my face with my hands. This conversation was not going where I wanted at all. “Unless you plan on taking off your pants here and now and giving them to me so I can try them on and find out if they fit, I think we can safely assume it’s not them. You must have another set of pants somewhere that will actually fit me.” I tapped the page. “The reason I say that is because there’s no recipe to craft the pants. There would be if it were something I could make.”

  “Does he make any sense to you?” Sathanus asked, directing her gaze to Annabeth. “Because I’m as confused as a nun in an orgy.” She shook her head. “I do not much like being confused. It makes me angry, and let me just say, people tend not to like me when I get angry.”

  “I think what Arthur is trying to say,” Annabeth said, putting a hand on my shoulder, “is that each of the archangels can provide an Armament to the Builder. Those Armaments give him the power to defeat the Darkness. You can provide him with the Armament of Wrath. Judging by what I see in the book, it’s supposed to be a pair of pants.”

  “I already understand you want my pants,” Sathanus said, shifting from foot to foot. “But I’m not giving you my pants.” She flushed again.

  “We don’t think the pants in the picture are the ones you’re wearing,” Annabeth said, tapping the page. Then she stopped and stood there, and I could have sworn a lightbulb turned on above her head. “What are your pants called?”

  “They’re called pants. Well, greaves actually. I know they’re not technically greaves, but that sounds more fearsome.” Sathanus struck a pose with her axe. “There’s Sathanus, Archangel of Wrath in her Greaves of Certain Doom!” She nodded. “See, it just sounds better.”

  “I agree,” Annabeth said, nodding furiously before turning to me. “And Arthur, what are the pants in the picture called?”

  “The Mercile
ss Greaves of Wrath.” I scanned over the stat block written beside it.

  The Merciless Greaves of Wrath

  Type: Leggings

  Durability: 5,300

  Defense: 1D10

  Enchantments: Armament of Wrath

  Ability: Reflection– Creates an aura around the user that reflects seven times the damage dealt to the user back to the damage dealer.

  “I guess they reflect damage back at the attacker?” I said, shrugging. “Creates some kind of aura.” I scratched my head. “Do the ones you’re wearing do that?”

  “Oh!” Sathanus said, nodding like it all made sense. Only not the good kind of sense. The kind of sense that occurred when you realized you’d fallen ass first in a nest full of fire ants. “Well, that isn’t happening. There’s no way you’re getting those.”

  “Why not?” I asked, watching her closely while she muttered under her breath.

  “The Merciless Greaves of Wrath are with my treasure over yonder.” She gestured into the darkness with her axe. “It is guarded by a dragon. You would have to slay her to retrieve them.” She stroked her magnificent black beard. “And you are much too scrawny and beardless to succeed.” She sighed. “We’ve been through this.”

  “So, the dragon I was already going to kill has the greaves?” I asked, suddenly excited. “That’s great!”

  “I think your Builder is broken,” Sathanus said, looking at Annabelle and gesturing at me with her axe. “He thinks he can defeat Envy.”

  “Wait, Envy is the dragon?” I asked, suddenly confused.

  “Dragon is more a placeholder term, I’ll admit.” Sathanus shrugged. “But yes, Leviathan, Archangel of Envy is the guardian of the treasure. She coveted my treasure and took it from me, and now she roosts on top of it, rolling over in gold and bathing in it.” Sathanus got a far-off look in her eyes. “She doesn’t even want it. She just wants it because I had it and she didn’t. Honestly, it’s a little pathetic.”

  “Maybe I can convince her to help me and get two armaments for the price of one?” I asked, looking from Sathanus to Annabeth and back again.

  “To be clear, you wish to convince an archangel consumed solely by envy to give you things? I think you might be overconfident because you have bargained with Mammon, but you do not understand the difference between her and Leviathan.” Sathanus rubbed her bald head. “Envy wants things just because another has them and for no other reason. It is why she hasn’t left this place in millennia.” Sathanus sighed. “The moment she knows you want the Greaves, you will never get them. It will make her want them all the more because the idea of you having something she can’t will make her insatiable.”

  “Still, we have to try.” I took a deep breath. “If you help us, and we succeed, we all get what we want, right?”

  “Admittedly, I’m intrigued. I am not sure how Envy will deal with the Builder, especially one marked by Greed. That may make her want you more, though I am not sure you want her to want you.” Sathanus inhaled sharply, her nostrils flailing. “However, it costs me little to send you to the bitch.” She nodded. “I shall help you.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if you fail, know that I will visit such exquisite torment upon you, it will make you wish you had never been born.”

  “You know, you would catch a lot more flies with honey instead of vinegar. Maybe don’t jump right to the whole death and dismemberment thing.” I shrugged. “Just as an FYI.”

  “Here’s the thing, Builder,” Sathanus replied as she thrust her axe into the sling on her back. “If you tear off a fly’s wings. It will eat whatever you give it.”

  Her hands snaked out as she spoke, wrapping around our wrists, and before I could even squeak in protest, she jumped off the platform, taking both of us with her. My heart jumped into my throat as I seized onto her arm.

  Her gilded wings flapped mightily as Sathanus zoomed upward into the air while wind buffeted all around us.

  I’m not sure what my face looked like, but my fear must have been evident in my features because the archangel’s smile faltered as she stared at me.

  “Are you afraid of heights or something?” Before I could tell her it was more from being dragged off the cliff, she nodded once. “It is no matter if you are. We are almost there anyway.”

  She was right. A second later she landed on a raised platform made of solid gold with a glimmering liquid metal portal at the far end.

  “What the hell just happened?” I asked as she released Annabeth and me. “Where are we?”

  “We are at the gateway that leads to the castle where Envy hoards my treasure.” Sathanus beat her wings, floating up until she was eye level with me. “Just cross the Burning Desert, and you’ll be at the castle.” The Archangel of Wrath leaned in close, so her eyes were inches from mine, and I could feel the anger rippling off her. “Do not fail me. You have given me hope. Take it away, and I shall be incredibly displeased.”

  She was gone so suddenly, it spooked the hell out of me. I stumbled backward in surprise as Annabeth sucked in a breath beside me.

  “Remind me to never offer to accompany you anywhere ever again,” Annabeth said, looking at me as she tried to regain her composure.

  “Aww, I thought you liked spending time with me?” I asked, holding out my hand to her. “Or am I mistaken about that?”

  “I like spending a vastly different kind of time with you.” She took my hand. “This is not what I had in mind.” She shook her head. “I figured we’d have a nice dinner followed by, well, you know.” She gestured at me. “Not crawling through a dungeon and dealing with dwarven archangels.”

  “You make a fair point,” I said as we walked toward the portal. “I’d much rather do your thing instead of my thing.”

  “Well, let’s get this over with then.” Annabeth gave me a determined look. “Because afterward, I plan on you making it up to me good and hard.”

  “I look forward to it,” I said as we leapt through the portal.

  To be honest, I wished I hadn’t because travel through the magical portal felt like having my insides sucked out through a straw.

  A moment later, I landed on the other side on my hands and knees, sweat dripping down my body with Annabeth beside me. As my stomach slowly unwound itself from the knot it was in, I sat up and stared at the surroundings.

  We were in a chamber no bigger than a barn. Only the walls were made of fire, and above us, giant predatory falcons flitted through the air. Their gazes settled on us as Annabeth pulled me to my feet. Fear vaulted through me, making my mouth dry and my knees shake. Those birds were freaking huge. No, huge was a massive fucking understatement. These birds were big enough to carry off Godzilla.

  “I suggest we run away,” Annabeth said, gesturing at the circling birds above with her golden dagger.

  “Noted,” I replied and took off running through the burning doorway as the first of the falcons dove toward us with its huge claws extended.

  14

  I darted to the left, not sure of what else to do as the falcon’s mammoth claws gouged into the red sand beneath my feet. The creature was so close, I could have reached out and touched it if I’d been so inclined. Which I wasn’t because I was too busy scrambling to my feet as the massive bird turned toward me and regarded me with its beady eyes. It took one menacing step forward as battle cries from other birds sounded off to my right.

  The bird’s beak slashed at me, cleaving through the air as I dove forward, scrambling between its legs before its claws could turn me into minced meat. I’ll admit, heading toward its talons wasn’t my brightest idea ever, but I was sort of banking on something I’d heard as a little kid. If you could pour salt on a bird’s tail, it wouldn’t be able to fly. So how did that help me? Well, I was sweaty, and sweat was water and salt right?

  Trying to ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me I was an idiot, I jumped on the bird’s back. It bucked like a raging bronco, its head swiveling around to glare at me as it flapped its massive wings. Seizing its ta
il feathers as tightly as I could, I barely had a moment to contemplate how wrong my old wives’ tale was when the thing sprang into the air.

  It soared high above the ground, banking and weaving through the sky as I hung on with all the strength my tired muscles could muster. Thankfully, my adrenaline was pumping full steam ahead. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure if I’d have managed to last long at all. I gritted my teeth together and pulled myself forward onto the creature’s back, one handful of feathers at a time. At least they were nearly as big as tree branches, so it wasn’t too difficult to grip them.

  When I was nearly to its neck, I stopped because I wasn’t sure if the thing could turn around and stab me with its wickedly sharp beak. I lay there, clinging to its back as I forced myself to take a couple deep breaths. Now that I didn't actively fear for my life, at least not in the ‘oh god a giant early bird is going to get my worm’ way, I noticed there was a lot of structure beyond the barn of fire we’d just left. In fact, in the minutes I’d clung to the falcon we’d crossed what seemed like miles of Burning Desert, which was awesome except for one minor problem.

  Annabeth was back there with the other falcons. Panic exploded through me as I tried to figure out how to get down so I could go back for her. Maybe I could survive the jump? Only, I knew that would be impossible. If I had wings, I might have survived the drop, but I had no doubt that the second I was airborne, the falcon would snatch me. Then I’d be as good as dead.

  No, I’d just have to wait until we got some place safer and then try to make my way back. I just had to hope Annabeth would still be okay then.

  “Neat trick,” Annabeth called from beside me, her wind-muffled words driving away the dread steadily building inside me. I looked in the direction of her voice and saw her riding her own falcon. Her hands were gripping feathers on either side of its head. She jerked it hard to the left, causing her raptor to angle toward me.