Tomb of the Conqueror Worm: The Mad Immortal, #0.5

By Eric Walsh

Who knew poetry could be a matter of life and death?

 

After months of grinding to level up their elemental magic, Nate and Wes can't wait to finally embark on their first mission with a real guild. Yet when they discover the key to an ancient ruin, they end up trapped inside a dungeon inexplicably based on Edgar Allan Poe's poem The Conqueror Worm.

Now, their only hope of escape is to outwit and outblast a challenging procession of trials…or die trying.

This story is a prequel novella. Nate and Wes' adventures continue in The Mad Immortal, available now on YONDER and as an audiobook!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Walsh
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223736141

Book preview

Tomb of the Conqueror Worm

A Mad Immortal Prequel Novella

Eric Walsh

Copyright © 2022 by Eric Walsh

Cover artwork by Andrey Vasilchenko

Cover design by Olivia Pro Design

The Conqueror Worm written by Edgar Allan Poe

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This book is dedicated to my old group of Dungeons & Dragons players, whose escapades inspired Nate and Wes’ own journey through the Vault.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank my beta readers—Daniel Rositano, Rachel Rositano, and Nick Stapleton—for agreeing to be my guinea pigs. Without their valuable feedback, the text would be riddled with far more plot holes and typos.

I’d also like to thank my parents, Sue and Rob Walsh, as well as my loyal patron Barbara Nagrant, for believing in me even as I take the crazy leap into publishing.

Finally, I want to thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this adventure into the Nexus. I hope you enjoy your time here, and that you’ll return for the continuation of Nate and Wes’ story in The Mad Immortal, available now on Yonder and as an audiobook!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Author's Note

Chapter 1

Askeletal arm ripped through the loose dirt. Sharp fingers scrabbled for purchase, dragging out bones stitched together with dark energy. Twin pools of vital essence pulsed in the empty sockets of the abomination’s bleached skull, and what remained of its shattered jaw shivered up and down as though struggling to speak.

Suddenly, a sword of crackling ice punctured its bony chest. The creature halted its attempted excavation, looking down in an almost comical display of surprise. Then, the blade swept upward, cleanly slicing the undead in half. Its animated bones collapsed in a heap atop the disturbed soil.

Nate lowered his Ice Sword, sparing the slain verabeast only a brief glance. The things were too common out here in the Barrowhaunt to be worth anything more. Golden chains already sprouted across its remains as the Source sought to reclaim them, and a moment later, he thought he felt the barest trickle of essence enter his body when the bones dissipated. These foes were too weak to provide much, even to a verist at only the Apprentice tier.

He turned back to his friend walking beside him. Look, all I’m saying is that this patrol is beneath us.

Wes sighed and shook his head. The frozen spikes of his hair trembled atop his head as he fixed pale blue eyes on Nate. Perhaps. But we’ve been in the Riftwalkers for what, two weeks? You can’t really blame Commander Grisham for putting us through our paces before she trusts us with a proper assignment.

Sure I can, Nate muttered. He absently swiped his Ice Sword at a flying skull careening toward them on bat-like wings. His blade impacted the tiny verabeast like a baseball bat, and the skull exploded into bony fragments.

Besides, Wes continued, It’s not like this is a total waste of time, right? We’re doing an important duty for the guild keeping the sector cleared of any distractions. And getting some essence in the process…albeit slowly.

Next to the broken cobblestone path, two rotting zombies stumbled toward them through the grass. Nate cut them down with a series of quick strikes, straining his senses as golden light reclaimed them. He couldn’t tell if the flash of essence that seeped into him that time had been real or just wishful thinking.

These verabeasts can’t be above Initiate-class, he scoffed. They don’t pose an actual threat to us, let alone to any of the guild veterans.

I’m sure if you let your guard down, you’ll be singing a different tune. Even weaker enemies can become a threat in great enough numbers.

Oh?

He took a few quick steps off the path, then stopped and spun to face Wes, lowering his blade so that it pointed toward the ground. A mix of zombies and skeletons in various states of decay soon converged on him from all sides, clawing and chomping at his exposed flesh.

Wherever they attacked, however, vera flared across his skin as his aegis deflected their blows. Not a one of them possessed enough strength to puncture the protective barrier, nor to force him to spend even a single vera from his reserve to reinforce it.

Wes rolled his eyes. Point taken. There’s no need to taunt the poor things.

He walked past Nate without breaking stride. Icy energy coated his fists, and he lashed out at any undead unfortunate enough to enter his range. Each blow that landed punctured flesh or cracked bone. His Ice Fists might not offer the reach of Nate’s Ice Sword, but they hit just as hard.

Nate fell back into step beside Wes, and the two of them continued their patrol. Their route wound primarily through one of the countless mist-soaked graveyards that comprised the Barrowhaunt. Verists had little use for graves since the Source would reclaim their corpses, but that didn’t stop the vital essence in the sector from generating a stereotypical representation of human death. The endless fog, gnarled trees, and crooked tombstones might have seemed ominous had the enemies here not been so laughably weak.

"Why did the Precursors pick this sector of all places to build a base? he griped. Surely, there were better areas in the Nexus for all-powerful ancient verists to make their home."

Wes shrugged. Who knows? Maybe they were harnessing the vital essence somehow. Zones with this much of it attuned to death are relatively rare. Or maybe they cared about the location and surrounding sectors, not this sector in particular.

Nate stabbed his Ice Sword into another undead attempting to rise from the earth, pinning it in place. Well, whatever the reason, I regret their choice. I just hope the guild figures out how to excavate the Vault soon so we can go on a proper mission.

I heard Bastion talking about the hold-up last night. He thinks they’re missing some kind of key they need to enter.

With a half-dozen Heroic Stage verists on the case, I’m surprised they haven’t blasted their way into the Vault by now.

They’ve tried, but that wall stood up to everything they could throw at it. It even rebuffed their attempts to teleport or phase through. Unless they can figure out how to get in the intended way, they’re nil out of luck.

A horde of undead chose that moment to emerge from the mist on either side of them in a pincer movement, sprinting at them as fast as their rotten limbs allowed.

Nate spun to the right, dismissing his Ice Sword and raising a hand lined with red and blue striations. Even after a year in the Nexus, he still found it difficult to reconcile this physical manifestation of his verigenesis with his own self-image. The transformation was something every weaver faced, first with their eyes and then gradually with the rest of their body as their power grew.

Thermal essence curled around his fingers, forming the weave for a Fire Bolt. As soon as he could, he hurled the spell at the nearest zombie. The undead’s flesh burst into leaping flames, and it shrieked, careening into the zombie beside it.

In a matter of seconds, half their would-be assailants were ablaze. He turned away and saw that Wes had dismantled the other wave of undead with surgical precision. The final skeleton’s skull clattered to the grass as he slammed a fist through its neck.

Nate resumed his forward march down the path, resummoning his Ice Sword. The basic weave cost him no more effort than it would to throw a punch. While he had to rely on his own essence to shape the spell’s pattern, the process didn’t expend any of it. Investing his vera would’ve been another matter, but this rabble didn’t warrant tapping into his reserve to apply any spell infusions.

Wes hurried to catch up. "See? You have to admit, that was at least a little fun."

"Clean-up duty is not why I joined the Riftwalkers. Where’s the challenge—the chance to prove ourselves and advance in strength?"

Personally, I’m just glad to be done with those Null-cursed starter guilds back in the city. If they made me do one more fetch quest hauling chunks of vera-infused ore…

Nate chuckled. "I hear that. And I suppose there is a certain amount of satisfaction that comes from crushing enemies so much weaker than us. When I first arrived in the Nexus, these undead would’ve eaten me alive."

They might still if you didn’t have me here to protect you, Wes replied with a grin.

Nate rolled his eyes. Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.

His thoughts drifted while they followed their patrol route deeper into a particularly derelict section of graves. Wes had a point—they were lucky a real guild had accepted a pair of freshly minted Apprentices, and no doubt there’d be plenty of opportunities for growth once they’d proved themselves. Still, the essence from this mission would probably barely be enough to cover their guild fees for the month, let alone advance their verigenesis.

If only they could convince Commander Grisham to reassign them to the Vault. They could join the others studying the Precursor structure, maybe stumble upon some critical clue that everyone else had missed. Then, no one in the guild could doubt their expertise.

Of course, all that was just a pipe dream. The commander would never trust a couple of new recruits with something so important.

Absently launching a Fire Bolt to snipe a legless torso crawling along the ground toward him, he cast his gaze over the graveyard. They should at least find an enemy out here worthy of their attention. A few of the other patrols had reported stumbling upon more powerful undead off the beaten path. Perhaps he and Wes could do the same.

The ever-present mist shrouded everything in a hazy veil. Jagged tombstones sprouted every which way, with the occasional skeletal tree twisting up out of sight. There had to be something in this dreary mess worth investigating…

There! He veered to the left, striding toward a squat stone building he’d glimpsed through the fog. While the other nearby structures had all partially collapsed, this one appeared intact despite the countless passing years. And out here, away from the guild’s main camp, he doubted anyone had bothered exploring it yet.

Wes stumbled, turning to hurry after him. Where are you going? That’s not on our assigned path.

It is now. If there’s anything interesting around here to be found, don’t you think it would be in one of these tombs?

Maybe. But it’s not our job to investigate the crypts. What if we accidentally set off a defensive binding?

You worry too much, Wes.

"And you never worry enough."

Look, I’m going to check out this crypt with or without you. You can either wait here for me to return, or you can come with me and watch my back. It’s your call.

Wes expelled his breath in a loud sigh. Source save me from you.

Nate clapped him on the back. That’s the spirit! Now come on—let’s see if we can find some buried treasure to loot or a terrible monster to slay.

The two of them soon reached the stone building he’d singled out, dead grass crackling underfoot. A few of the lesser undead had harried them on their way, but it had been nothing a few sweeps of his Ice Sword and a couple jabs from Wes’ Ice Fists couldn’t handle. The local verabeasts were certainly persistent—he’d give them that.

They completed a quick circuit around the perimeter of the crypt. The worn stone proved as chipped and crumbling as the tombstones scattered nearby. Faint traces of what might once have been carvings or murals blurred the building’s walls, too faded to make out. A large slab of stone functioning as a door perched atop a set of half-collapsed stairs on one side.

You sure about this? Wes asked, studying the doorway warily.

Source yeah, Nate said with a grin.

Bounding up the steps, he pushed his hands against the door. The stone didn’t budge. He frowned and leaned his shoulder against the door. Bracing himself with his feet, he shoved with all his might. The door gave the faintest of creaks, scraping forward along the ground perhaps half an inch.

With the vera inside him enhancing his Power, he should’ve been able to shift even this heavy chunk of stone. Perhaps the door had been reinforced with some kind of binding?

Kinetic or geologic essence infused directly into the rock could be encumbering its movement. He didn’t sense any such enchantments, but his Insight wasn’t great and whatever magic had once been here might’ve faded to a mere remnant.

He gave up with a grunt, turning back to Wes. Can you help me push?

Wes raised an eyebrow. What happened to entering with or without my help?

Nate rolled his eyes in response, and, smirking, Wes stepped forward to join him on the stairs. They heaved in unison and slid the door another inch in. It took several more attempts before they’d finally shifted the slab far enough to squeeze through.

Even with his internal vera sustaining him, the exertion left Nate panting. That door had not wanted to budge. Wes, with his higher Vigor, had fared better. He waited while Nate recovered, peering through the dark opening into the room beyond. The faint natural light of the sector barely penetrated the mist, let alone the deep shadows of the crypt.

See…anything? Nate gasped.

Wes shook his head. My Insight’s just as bad as yours, remember? I think there might be a coffin sitting off to the right, but it could be my imagination.

Regaining his breath, he joined Wes by the opening. The darkness indeed proved too much for his vision to pierce.