You lost to a clay golem, deal with it!
The worm finally let go of my arm. Just another crack left by its mandibles. Time to collect its mana.
I removed my necklace, brought the single amber bead to that creature's let's call it head and waited. Nothing. If it had any magic, it was already absorbed.
You took what you could. The elephant-like wilhorn hunted greyhounds; the crocodile-shaped greyhound went after meniles; the cat-rat menilis chased rapts and I guess clay golems were the rapts' prey.
A worm's body so weak it was already dry, breaking into pieces like salt.
Outside, the bull horde was feasting.
It was dusk - it was always dusk - so they had lit bonfires whose black smoke struggled to even rise above the tallest city hills. The smoke muffled their chants, carried embers and the stench of burnt meat.
Most of them were downhill, out of sight, among the torn-up pavements and broken walls of houses. The strongest cheered from the hill's terraces, on the stairs and dry waterfalls. They watched the preys roast and the weak fight.
And above them all, on one of the few bridges left standing, was the bull.
Laughing at his spectacle.
Once I made sure that the horde was distracted, I moved out of the tower. When did they arrive?! Oh yeah, it had been months. They had made the outside safer, the underground, not so much.
Monsters watched me walk downhill. They were starving yet would not even bother to attack. Sucking rocks at their feet would offer them just as much.
Me? I could not stop being amazed at human craftmanship because I was still walking.
Anyway, here was the three hundred steps stair, because humans loved heights! It was carved straight into the hill, reaching what had been the mansion's garden, now just barren rock with hints of what had been planting troughs and fountains.
The mansion's windows were... not there anymore. Each time I came back, I was thinking of just going through the holes they left. Each time I remembered I was too frail.
Through the backdoor and to the main hall where I stopped.
Who had done this?!
The carpet was torn, full of filth. The tapestries devoured. A couple greyhounds occupied the main stair and another one, on the wall, tainted the portrait.
The portrait of the human family that lived there! It was faded, it was in tatters but it was still there! I would... I would do nothing.
Because the painting was not there. Nor the tapestries or carpet. It was all in the past. Only barren stone remained. That, and the greyhounds.
The beasts watched me walk behind the stair, toward the cellar. There had been a wooden door there. I still made the gesture to open it, then walked down.
Outside the dusk greyed out the realm. In the mansion it cast heavy shadows. In this narrow stair it was pitch black, the steps treacherous but it could not affect me!
I was a golem.
And even weakened, I could still feel the vibrations in the ground, on the wall, use that to guide myself.
My fingers felt letters engraved on the old, eroded bricks. Saying "I am walking downstairs", saying, "I must bring water", saying "I am not late". Who had written these? Not me. Well, not just me.
One of the culprits lay further below. Another golem, broken down. The hunched torso on the highest step, then the faceless head with two holes drilled out for eyes. Where were the arms and legs?
Ah, here they were, a bit downstairs. Two legs, four arms: two human and two smaller ant-like. I crouched to see if there was anything for me to salvage.
No. Someone else already had.
I already had.
Two more remains of golems stained the sanctuary. Well, the basement, really. A circular room that had been a library, books and shelves alike rotten away. Instead, we had dug a new shelf in the stone wall itself to store all the materials and alchemic tools.
On the room's floor, two magic circles engraved.
The smaller one, on the outside, was for the caster. The larger one, at the center, was for... something. Only humans knew what it was meant to do.
On the circular wall, more writing: "They are not answering, they are not answering, they are not answering, they are not answering" and so on.
The golems had written it so many times that no space was left untouched. Then they had written over the previous writing. Then they had used larger symbols. Well, it conveyed the message well enough regardless.
Whoever that was for.
I bowed to the improvised shelf: "My apologies. This is all the magic I found."
The lone bead of amber on my necklace had not even a hint of mana in it. I could not remember how much I had collected today, but it seemed all gone. I stood there, indecisive, then decided that this task was done.
So, before the next, I briefly checked the two golem remains for anything to salvage.
Of course not.
My other task had not been given to me, but I had seen the golems work on it. Basically, mixing alloys and feeding the circles with it until they worked.
The room shook a little. Monsters were fighting above, either directly in the mansion or bigger ones near the hill. Just what I needed while checking dosages.
The heat stones were practically depleted, but between them and my trusty hands I could still get the alloys to mix. A glance at the circles to make sure I was not making an old combination. Then, heating. Draining.
Like burning your life out and watching the bright liquid slowly flow in your hand. I was reminded that yes, golems knew pain.
Now came the part where I had to pour the mix into the circles without destroying them, while being fast enough for it not to go cold and solid. All the while the monsters were fighting outside, keeping me company.
Okay!
What next? Oh yeah. I sat in the caster's circle and focused. Normally you should be standing but to tell the truth I could barely move anymore. So, to see if the new mix worked.
What were the magic words again... The golems would repeat them all the time... Ah yes: "Hello. Someone. Anyone. Can anyone hear me."
Pardon the monotonous tone, I was tired and magic spells required rigor above all.
"Is there anyone. Can someone answer."
The circles remained dormant. Another failure. Oh well.
Time to carve out the result on the wall.
Time to engrave my failure as deeply into the stone as my strength allowed. Time to give it a shape, to hear the rock screech, to share in the agony! Can you hear that?! I failed! Can you let me crumble to dust now, will you release me of duty, what more are you expecting of this miserable servant!?
Who was I even laboring for!? The humans are gone! If they cared about my work they would still be here!
They are not coming back!
They are coming back. They will come back... They will.
"Answer me!" I yelled to the empty room. "Anyone! Answer already!" I was botching it. I was not even in the caster's circle. "Is there anyone?!" There, better. "Someone answer me!"
"The realm is dying! There is nothing left! You can't be indifferent, you can't, so please! Someone help! Come save it! Someone..."
"Someone..."
My words echoed back to me, ever so distant, as futile each time. I had not even noticed the faint glow from the circles that were bringing back some colour to the floor.
And then: "What is that?"
A voice. A voice other than mine. Right? That wasn't my voice, I was almost sure it wasn't my voice.
It could not be a human voice?
"I am here!" I yelled, not daring to move, not daring to stop. Not knowing what permitted this delusion. "I am here, I am a loyal servant, please! The realm needs help!"
But the voice was gone.
So I kept calling, desperately, I stood there in that circle not knowing how long my legs would stand, feeling dizzy, feeling lost. Mad.
But as long as that faint glow persisted, it was not madness! Right?
And if it was, if I had just lost it, I welcomed that.
"Someone, please! Come back! The realm needs you! Answer me, anyone!"
"So noisy..." Another voice piped in.
Before me a tiny firefly, less than that, a minuscule glimmer had appeared, hovering above the central circle.
"Please, if you are human, you have to come! The realm needs help!"
"Ugly!" The voice reacted. "What's that horrid thing?"
And it was gone, immediately replaced by another. I had barely time to talk when: "Ah! It's so gross!" It, too, vanished as easily.
What?
Was going on?
Back to calling into the nothingness, but I had never felt so awake and with it the pain, the fatigue, the permanent sickness had me feverish. That had to be human voices! Oh, even if that was the last thing I heard, human voices!
So what was happening? No time to know, another one had come, brighter than the others.
"What now?" It said.
"I am a loyal human servant," I tried, "I beg for your attention: the realm is"
"A monster!" The voice reacted in disgust. "Get it together!"
And it was gone.
Me. She meant me. I was the reason why they were all leaving.
How had I not realized? Disturbing humans, and all they saw was a miserable pile of clay? Not even appealing, just a laborer, hunched and beat up, plates cracked, calcified. Stretching its thin arms toward masters of the realm.
I was taking it well, the guilt, the shame. So well. As in I was screaming mad.
Fine!
The magic circles still glowed, so fine!
I stormed upstairs, showed up in the mansion's hall where the greyhounds were still hiding from the fights outside. They took a look at me, saw the mana and lunged.
The ceiling fell on one with a vengeance. The second pierced by jagged rocks from the floor's tiles. I let it struggle to get free, approached the one buried under the rubbles and put my hand on that mass to see it squeeze, to hear the beast under it wail, its stony skin fracture.
Yes, for that tiny human presence that much mana had accompanied them.
The third greyhound, on the wall, chose to flee. For however impoverished the city was, it still offered enough of a meal to not risk its hide.
That left its impaled friend that had finally broken partly free. It saw me coming, fought back, felt my hand on its rugged, metal-like skull. I would need metal on top of marble.
In truth I was wasting precious mana. In truth I was too blinded to care.
After melting a pillar I carried my haul back to the cellar where, thankfully, the circles still glowed. Time was of the essence. No telling what would happen if it stopped. So I went to work.
Ripping myself apart.
A reminder that golems knew pain. To prevent us from doing foolish things exactly like that.
Under the solid plates, a clay golem was just that: clay. Viscous, amorphous clay in a constant, slow flow. The golem's blood and flesh all in one. The less time exposed the better because it hurt.
But I needed my clay to repair as much of my plates as possible, and I knew exactly how much to take: the hunch had to go.
Careful!
In my back, under the neck, no matter how much I wanted the pain to end I moved very carefully! But piece by piece, as my entire body throbbed I had finished rebuilding myself. No more ant arms, the human ones moved up and to the side. Torso as straightened as could be.
Now for the easier part: I melted marble, iron and silver to cast decorative pieces. A dressed golem was silly but the humans demanded good looks and I would deliver! Chest, shoulders, hips and legs, practically a second body over the first!
The last piece was a mask I put on my head to hide the carved holes I had for eyes. I had chosen to decorate it with the shape of a badger, the humans' favorite pet.
My body still ached, but I could not wait any longer. Before the circles went extinct, I had to try again.
"Someone! Masters, please, answer!"
It took several minutes but finally, as before, a slight glow danced before me.
"Leave me alone..." She groaned.
"Please! The realm is dying, it needs you! It needs a human!"
"Tough." The voice was dejected. "Find someone else."
"There is no one else! No one else will answer, please! The realm needs you!"
A moment of silence. I feared the tiny light would vanish but no, it persisted.
"You... need me?"
"Yes!" Oh lord yes. "You are the realm's only chance, so please! I beg you!"
Another, briefer moment.
"Yeah, sure, why not."
And as it spoke, before I had realized, the light had turned into a silhouette.