David Petrie [Petrie - The Pyramid Game

THE PYRAMID GAME

Book Two of the PIXEL DUS T Series

Written by David Petrie

2019 Mountaindale Press. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

I started this series because I wanted to tell a story. A story of friends saving a game that they loved. I wrote it for myself because, well, it was fun.

To my surprise people liked its quirky characters and ridiculous action. Now, with all of your support, I get to do more, and the world of Noctem gets to grow. For that I am grateful. So thank you to everyone who picked up a copy, left a review, told a friend, or commented on a post. Its because of all of you that I get to do this.

In addition, thank you to my betas Andy, Tara, Kevin, Sean, and Caitlin, as well as my amazing wife Sam and everyone at Mountaindale Press who keep me motivated.

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Prologue

Light swept across the night sky in a cascade of shimmering particles as the barrier surrounding the Palace of the Six Wolves failed. The released energy fell like snow across the city of Torn . The roar of engines shook the heavens as two hundred heavy transport ships circled like vultures.

The imperial fleet of the House of Serpents had arrived.

Doors of each craft slid open with enthusiasma thousand mercenaries ready to dive into action. They rained down upon the palace like hailstones, each throwing a glass bottle at the ground before landing. Most timed it right, landing with a shockwave of sparks and wind as the item bled away the kinetic energy of their fall. Some were not so lucky. Bodies hit the ground. An acceptable loss, as the rest pushed forward.

The small force of palace guards that stood in their way put up no resistance. Instead, they turned tail and ran, only stopping when they were safe inside the main gates. Laughs and taunts were heard among the attackers as they flooded on to the palace grounds.

It was going to be easier than they thought.

Then a lone figure stepped out on to the main dome of the palace. The dark gothic robes of a Cauldron Mage drifted behind him as he walked. His stride was slow but purposeful to match his class, its high damage potential equal only to the care that each spell took to brew. Silver chains coiled through the handful of braids in his long, black hair. They gleamed in the cold light of the moon as his presence darkened the scene.

He ran a hand down his closely-cropped beard and took a moment to survey the oncoming force. Then he snapped open the caster on his wrist, a crimson circle materializing above the crystal that sat at the bracelets center. He pulled a white velvet pouch from his robe and emptied its contents into the glowing ring. The small selection of items vanished, swallowed up by the void inside to be shaped into something more.

With a stern expression, he waited until the circle shrank into a single point of glowing power. He reached forward as a sigil appeared in the air before him and slapped his hand flat against it. The pattern in the air shined brighter for every second he remained in contact until concentric layers of power appeared around it.

Then he spoke.

His voice boomed, so loud that even the incoming army on the ground could hear him over the distance and the noise of the engines above.

In the name of Lady Amelia of House Winter Moon , you shall not pass!

He closed his fist the instant the last word left his lips, and a bolt of lightning slammed into the ground. On contact, it shot out in all directions. The attack ripped through the mercenaries below, killing everyone within fifty feet of the palace gates. A mist of sparkling glitter drifted through the air in their place.

To the other fighters on the ground, the sheer destructive power of the display should have given reason to run. They didnt. They were getting paid, after all. Instead, they ran past those who were unlucky enough to be caught in the devastation without looking back.

The dark mage raised his sights from the chaos below as one of the transport ships banked toward him, its pilot determined to earn a bit of extra hard . The mage could have run or dodged, but the fight was already over for him. His single attack had drained all of his mana.

A grin crept across his face.

He had bought enough time, and really, that was all he had to do. Throwing his arms out wide, he stood his ground in defiance as the ship slammed into the dome.

Deep within the palace, a distant rumble sent a trickle of dust falling from the ceiling of the library where Lady Amelia poured over several books. She scratched in lines of text with a heavy pen, faster than she had ever worked before. Chips of stone landed on her shoulder as the name of one of her party members vanished from the tattooed readout on her wrist. Her Archmage was dead. She suppressed an annoyed eye twitch and continued to work. There wasnt time to be irritated. She had to finish. The fate of her city, no, the fate of all Noctem depended on it.

Finally, she slammed a book shut and stood, knocking over her chair in the process. She didn't pick it up. It didn't matter. It wouldn't be her chair much longer anyway. She snatched up the long, curved saber leaning against the door frame, taking a brief moment to feel its weight in her hand. It was a strange sword for a Blade class, its hilt lacking a cross guard or tsuba, but then again, she was not an average swordswoman. Amelia tightened her grip around the beloved saber and licked at her teeth in preparation, then burst into the hallway.

Her Knight , an enormous faunus covered in thick muscle, stepped forward from a small party of guards. The horns of a ram curled around the womans head like a helmet. Her hand bore the emblem of a Rage class. It was an unorthodox choice for the First Knight of their house with its focus on offense over defense, but like Amelia herself, Winter Moon was an unorthodox house.

Kashka, how many are there? Lady Amelia looked up at the massive woman.

Hundreds, with more landing every second. The Rage rested her rusty claymore on her shoulder.

Amelia stared down the hall as the long, furry ears of a reynard twitched atop her head, her tail wagging lazily behind her. And Klaxon? She gestured to the space on her wrist where his name had been listed as part of her party. Was he able to slow them down?

The Archmage has fallen, Kashka tightened her grip on the handle of her claymore, but he took out plenty of the Serpents men with him.

Heh, that sounds like a good way to die. Amelia bowed her head. It wasn't in vain. We may lose our claim on Torn tonight, but I'll be damned if I let the House of Serpents take all of Noctem.

Damn right. The Rage readied her sword as the sound of combat reached them from down the hall.

Still glad you signed on as my First Knight? Amelia patted the back of her hand against Kashkas worn, leather armor. The Rage nodded, getting a warm smile from Amelia in return. Okay, you're with me. The rest of you, she turned to the small party, make them work for every inch they take.