Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 42: THE ARTIFACT EXPEDITION

Chapter 42: THE ARTIFACT EXPEDITION

Dawn bled across the sky like an open wound as Reed Nightblade gazed upon the assembled team. Six of his most trusted warriors stood before him, their faces etched with determination and fear in equal measure. The expedition to locate the second artifact was not for the faint of heart—Reed had made this abundantly clear during his selection process.

"The wilderness beyond the Ashen Mountains has claimed countless lives," Reed’s voice cut through the morning chill. "And we’re about to discover why."

Strapped to his hip was the blue fragment, its surface pulsing with an ethereal glow that intensified whenever pointed northwest—toward their destination. Three days had passed since the mysterious royal mage had delivered his cryptic message about the "game of fragments" beginning, and Reed refused to play from a position of weakness.

"My lord," Vex interrupted, her scarred face twisted in concern. "The scouts report movement at the eastern border. Azurehall troops bearing Lord Kieran’s colors."

Reed nodded grimly. The civil war was spreading faster than anticipated. "All the more reason to secure the artifact before they realize what we’re seeking. Silas, you’re in command until I return. If I’m not back within a fortnight, assume the worst."

Silas, a battle-hardened veteran who had followed Reed since before Goblin’s Hollow, bowed in acknowledgment. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air—they all knew the risks of this expedition, and the consequences of failure.

The first day’s journey proved deceptively calm. The party traveled through familiar territory, crossing streams and navigating dense woodlands that still acknowledged Reed as master. But as the second day dawned, the forest began to change. Trees twisted into grotesque shapes, their bark seeping a viscous crimson sap that reeked of copper and decay.

"These forests are tainted," muttered Kalia, the elven ranger whose tracking skills had proven invaluable countless times. "Something ancient corrupts the land."

Reed felt it too—a malevolent presence that seemed to watch their every move. The fragment at his side pulsed more urgently now, almost humming with anticipation.

By midday, they encountered their first obstacle. What appeared to be a simple ravine revealed itself as the territory of Blightcrawlers—massive centipede-like creatures whose segmented bodies oozed caustic venom.

"Formation!" Reed barked as the first of the creatures erupted from beneath a rotting log.

The beast lunged forward, its mandibles wide enough to sever a man at the waist. Reed sidestepped with practiced precision, drawing his obsidian blade in a fluid motion. The weapon—forged from the same material as the altar where he’d found the first fragment—sliced through the creature’s armored carapace with unnatural ease.

Putrid ichor sprayed across the forest floor, eating through leather and flesh wherever it landed. Darius, a young swordsman who had only recently earned his place among Reed’s elite, screamed as droplets splattered across his face, dissolving skin and muscle to expose the bone beneath.

Reed moved without hesitation, dragging the writhing youth to the ground and pouring the contents of a vial across the wounds. The alchemical mixture—a recent creation from the void-touched herbs growing in Goblin’s Hollow—sizzled and smoked, but stemmed the corrosion.

"Stay still," he commanded, before turning back to the battle.

Two more Blightcrawlers had emerged, their segments clicking in anticipation as they circled the party. Vex moved like a shadow, her twin daggers finding the gaps between the creatures’ armored plates with unerring accuracy. Kalia loosed arrow after arrow, each shaft finding home in vulnerable eye clusters.

The battle ended in minutes, but the cost was clear. Darius would bear the scars forever, his once-handsome face now a patchwork of ruined tissue. More concerning was the realization that the fragment had led them directly into the creatures’ territory—almost as if testing their resolve.

"This is only the beginning," Reed warned as they bound wounds and salvaged what equipment they could. "The fragment seeks worthy bearers."

By the fourth day, the landscape had transformed entirely. The forests gave way to a blasted wasteland where the ground itself seemed to breathe—rising and falling in slow, deliberate movements. Enormous stone formations jutted from the earth like broken teeth, their surfaces etched with symbols that matched those on Reed’s fragment.

"We’re close," he announced, feeling the fragment’s pulse quicken against his skin. "But we’re not alone."

In the distance, a column of smoke rose into the sky—a campfire, poorly concealed.

"Rivals?" Vex suggested, her hand instinctively moving to her weapons.

Reed narrowed his eyes. "Or bait."

They approached with caution, using the uneven terrain for cover. What they discovered confirmed Reed’s suspicions—a small expeditionary force bearing the colors of House Terras. Lady Selene had apparently decided that seeking refuge in Goblin’s Hollow wasn’t her only objective.

"Twelve men," Kalia whispered after scouting the perimeter. "Well-equipped, but careless. They don’t know these lands as we do."

Reed considered their options. A direct confrontation would cost lives they couldn’t afford to lose, but allowing competitors to reach the artifact first was unthinkable.

"We split up," he decided. "Vex, take Kalia and circle around to create a diversion. Nothing lethal—we need information more than corpses. The rest of you, with me. We’ll use the chaos to gain ground."

The plan worked with ruthless efficiency. Vex triggered a controlled rockslide that sent the Terras expedition into disarray, while Reed led his team through a narrow ravine that the fragment indicated would provide a shortcut.

What the fragment failed to warn them about was the ravine’s guardian.

It appeared without sound—a massive creature resembling a lion but with scales instead of fur, and six limbs that ended in hooked talons. Its head bore no eyes, only a gaping maw ringed with concentric rows of teeth that rotated independently.

"Void-touched," Reed breathed, recognizing the corruption that mirrored what had happened to his own territory.

The creature struck with devastating speed, tearing through one of Reed’s men before anyone could react. Gareth, a veteran of countless battles, disappeared into the beast’s maw, his screams cut short by the sickening crunch of bone.

Reed felt the fragment pulse against his side, almost as if feeding off the violence. Drawing his obsidian blade, he charged forward, dodging the creature’s initial lunge. The blade bit deep into corrupted flesh, releasing a torrent of black ichor that steamed where it touched the ground.

The beast howled—a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once—and lashed out with its multiple limbs. Reed barely avoided being eviscerated, but the talons caught his shoulder, tearing through armor and flesh with equal ease.

Pain exploded through his body, but with it came clarity. The fragment at his side glowed with blinding intensity, and Reed felt power surge through him—the same power he’d experienced when claiming leadership of Goblin’s Hollow.

With a roar of his own, Reed drove the obsidian blade up through the creature’s jaw, twisting with unnatural strength until he felt something vital rupture. The beast collapsed, its body already beginning to disintegrate into the same black dust that had marked Reed’s transformation of his territory.

"We move on," Reed ordered, ignoring the concerned looks as blood soaked through his shredded armor. "The artifact awaits."

The temple emerged from the landscape like a half-buried corpse—ancient stone covered in writhing vines that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Unlike the first temple Reed had discovered, this structure bore signs of repeated visitation over the centuries. Weathered statues of forgotten deities lined the approach, their features eroded into nightmarish approximations of human form.

"The House Terras expedition is half a day behind us," Kalia reported, her elven eyes picking out distant movement. "They’ve recovered from our diversion."

Reed nodded grimly. "Then we have no time to waste."

The temple entrance yawned before them—a mouth leading into darkness. As they crossed the threshold, torches along the walls ignited with blue flame, responding to the fragment’s presence.

"Stay close," Reed commanded. "The traps here will be deadlier than before."

He remembered the first temple—how simple it had seemed until the mechanisms activated, claiming the lives of all but his most skilled warriors. This place radiated danger in a way that made the previous temple seem like a training ground.

The first chamber contained a puzzle similar to what they’d encountered before—a series of pressure plates arranged in a pattern that matched constellations etched on the ceiling. But where the previous temple had required simple recognition, this one demanded precision timing and coordination.

"Step only on the plates when the shadows align," Reed instructed, watching as beams of light from strategically placed apertures slowly moved across the floor. "Any mistake will trigger the defense mechanisms."

They proceeded carefully, each step calculated, each movement precise. The chamber yielded to their efforts, revealing a corridor that spiraled downward into the earth.

Three more chambers followed, each more complex than the last. A room where the floor gradually filled with acidic water, forcing them to solve a mathematical sequence to reveal stepping stones. A corridor where spectral guardians materialized to challenge anyone who couldn’t recite specific verses in a long-dead language—verses that matched inscriptions Reed had discovered in the first temple.

With each obstacle overcome, Reed felt the fragment’s power grow stronger, its connection to this place undeniable. They were being tested, evaluated, judged by whatever ancient intelligence had created these trials.

Finally, they reached the central chamber—a vast, domed space where an obsidian altar stood bathed in ethereal light. Upon it rested a fragment identical to Reed’s but glowing with crimson intensity.

"The second artifact," Reed breathed, taking a step forward.

A rumble shook the temple, dust falling from the ancient ceiling. Behind them, sounds of combat echoed—the House Terras expedition had arrived sooner than expected.

"Hold them off," Reed ordered, moving toward the altar. "I need time to claim it properly."

As his remaining warriors took defensive positions, Reed approached the altar. The crimson fragment pulsed in counterpoint to his blue one, the two artifacts seemingly communicating across the space between them.

Reed reached out, his fingers inches from the crimson surface, when movement caught his eye. From a side entrance he hadn’t noticed, a robed figure emerged—tall, imposing, and radiating power that made the air itself seem to warp.

"Lord Nightblade," the figure called, lowering its hood to reveal a face Reed recognized with a shock of dread. "I was wondering who would be foolish enough to follow the fragment’s call."

Before Reed stood Prince Tarrant—the supposedly false king of Azurehall, the man whispered to be possessed or something worse. His eyes gleamed with unnatural light, and at his side hung a fragment of his own, pulsing with golden radiance.

"The Monarch fragment," Reed whispered, understanding dawning.

Tarrant smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. "Indeed. And now you face a choice, Lord of Goblin’s Hollow. Surrender your fragment and swear fealty to the true king, or die here, forgotten beneath the earth."

Behind Reed, the sounds of battle intensified. His warriors were outnumbered, and time was running out. The crimson fragment on the altar pulsed more urgently now, as if sensing the convergence of powers that would determine its fate.

Reed’s hand closed around the hilt of his obsidian blade, the decision crystallizing in his mind as blood from his earlier wounds dripped onto the ancient stone floor.

"I serve no king," he growled, as shadows began to gather around him, responding to the blue fragment’s power. "Especially not one who’s merely a puppet for something ancient and hungry."

Tarrant’s smile widened, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. "Then let us see what your fragment has taught you about power, Lord Nightblade."

The two men lunged toward the altar, fragments glowing with blinding intensity as the temple’s foundations began to shake with apocalyptic force.