Inara Edhelhael (In-AH-ra EH-thel-HI-el)
Inara Edhelhael
Inara was raised in the forests of Alcarin. She attended the wizard academy Egig Ero Fa in Alcarin, where she was chosen to be the apprentice of Filandrel, one of the oldest Elven magisters.
Shortly after completing her studies at the academy, she fought in the second Battle of Twin Rivers. Her entire unit of young mages was slaughtered by the waves of undead. She was pulled from the corpses of her comrades by Kent.
Inara's familiar, the barn owl Meriwald, flew back with her ranger friend Ravlor following close behind. Ravlor led her through the chaos of the battlefield, and to the safety of an occupied tower.
Flashbacks from the battle haunted Inara in the following years. Eventually, she was sent to Latria to seek any information and evidence on the fate of Lara Durdain and her Elves on the continent.
Physical Description
Apparel & Accessories
Inara wears a magical cloak of at-will light. It is midnight blue with iridescent silver threads woven throughout. Upon her speaking the command word "Dudewaris", the cloak fires off a level 5 Magic Missile spell.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Inara grew up in the shadow of Egig Ero Fa. When she was old enough, she enrolled in the wizard academy. She demonstrated a natural aptitude for conjuration and teleportation magic, and so was placed in the Conjuration focused school. She spent the next few decades studying under her various teachers, before piquing the interest of Filandrel, one of the oldest and most powerful Elven magisters.
Filandrel offered to take her as his apprentice, an opportunity which thrilled her. She spent the next century studying and working under Filandrel. He was brilliant, and she devoured every bit of knowledge that he would share.
When she was almost done with her studies under Filandrel, the Union War broke out. Inara received orders to form a detachment with all of her former classmates and pass through a Diluvian Mirror. They were then to hold a tower where they would be receiving reinforcements against the armies of the dead.
It did not go as intended... when the mages stepped through the portal, they walked into a slaughter. Inara was knocked unconscious as her friends and comrades were cut down around her.
Inara was pulled out from the pile of her fallen comrades by the Grippli, Kent. A few minutes later, Ravlor came running over, following a very anxious Meriwald. Ravlor led her through the maze of the battlefield, and they managed to find safety and healing in one of the occupied towers.
The Battle of Twin Rivers caused long lasting psychological effects on Inara. She is haunted by flashbacks, and it took her years before she was able to use teleportation magic without suffering a nausea inducing panic attack. She spent most of her time after the battle sequestered in her chambers with her books, or roaming the forests of Alcarin with her closest friend, Ravlor.
Education
Inara studied the conjuration school of magic at Egig Ero Fa. She showed an aptitude for teleporation magic, a rarity among the students. She caught the eye of Filandrel, one of the magisters, and he took her as his apprentice.
She trained closely under Filandrel for the next century, delving deeper into conjuration and teleportation magics.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Inara is one of the youngest wizards in the past few centuries at Egig Ero Fa to master difficult teleportation magic.
Inara was among those who defeated the beast-lord Mustafat at his tower, before descending deep into Narvoth to defeat the bendeth and destroy the twisted Tree of Pain.
Near Crastvongrad, Inara and a small group of adventurers restored a semblance of balance to the land by destroying one of the four Wells of Sorrows that anchored this world with the old world, in an attempt to sever the Elves' connection to the Queen of Air and Darkness.
Failures & Embarrassments
Inara feels that she is personally responsible for the 54 royal guard who died, and whose spirits are doomed to forever wander the land, at the battle of Mustafat's Tower. It was her calling to Princess Anastasia for aid that led to their deaths, and it is something that she blames herself for to this day.
Mental Trauma
Inara suffers from vivid flashbacks from the Battle of Twin Rivers. Even though she is young for an Elf, she has seen far more than many twice her age. She cannot get out of her mind the images of her friends being ripped apart by the endless tide of undead.
She is paranoid about teleportation, especially through the Diluvian Mirror. It has only been recently that she is able to cast teleportation magic without making herself sick.
Inara is haunted by the Elves who died at Mustafat's tower when she called the Princess for aid... their souls are doomed to forever wander without finding any peace, and she feels responsible.
Filandrel's betrayal. Everything she thought she knew has now come into question and she has a hard time determining truth from lies anymore... she trusts even fewer people now than she did before.
Intellectual Characteristics
Inara is logical. She approaches the world in the same way that she approaches the study of magic... with a methodical attention to detail.
She prefers to do everything thoroughly and carefully, but has been known to rush into things that she isn't prepared for... especially if the life of one of her few friends is on the line.
Morality & Philosophy
After spending time among humans, her attitude and thoughts towards them have softened quite a bit. She has become far more tolerant and respectful of humanity, particularly those she has grown close to.
Inara abhors necromancy and is forbidden from studying the school herself. However, with travelling with Inira, she has developed a tolerance for necromancy that she would have never condoned in the past.
The world is changing. The time of the Elves might be drawing to a close, and if that is the case, it is tragic, but so be it. Time moves on. One cannot relive the past, lost civilizations cannot be brought back. There is a price that would be paid for pursuing such a venture, and that price is far too high to pay. Elven lives are growing shorter. Is it scary? Yes. But it is the way that the world works now.
The elders say that magic is fading, and it might be so, but if it does fade, then the Elves will do what they must to adapt and survive.
Some artifacts are far too powerful, and shouldn't exist. The staff of Lara Durdain is one of these objects. No one should wield an artifact with that much power.
Taboos
Necromancy, eating the flesh of fey.
Personality Characteristics
Likes & Dislikes
Inara discovered an affection for fruit pastries while in Runestone.
She likes it when individuals are straight forward in their dealings. She has little patience for useless small talk and political banter, and even less for subversive dishonesty.
Inara intensely dislikes Gaius Astoria, although she has begun to have a grudging acceptance of him and his usefulness.
Virtues & Personality perks
Inara is very protective of those whom she considers her friends or family, no amount of distance or danger will prevent her from going to their aid. This is particularly evident in her relationship with the ranger, Ravlor.
Vices & Personality flaws
Inara looks at the world from a logical, academic viewpoint in most situations, that sometimes comes across as she lacks empathy.
She has a tendency to let her mouth run away with her if she is in an emotionally heated state.
Inara is often plagued by survivor's guilt, and blames herself when those around her die, and she feels like she should have done more to save them.
Personality Quirks
Inara is loathe to let her barn owl familiar, Meriwald, in the path of danger, preferring to keep him safely perched on her shoulder where she is less likely to lose him.
Hygiene
When the option to bathe regularly is not feasible or practical, Prestidigitation is her most oft-used cantrip.
Social
Speech
Soft-spoken until she is angry, Inara is fluent in many languages and is always interested in picking up new ones, especially if they are spoken by fascinating foreigners...
Relationships
History
Inara met Ravlor when she was a student at Egig Ero Fa. She was out exploring the woods, and wandered too close the the border with the Von Carstein lands. Ravlor was patrolling the border, and intercepted a group of Von Carstein's men who tracking her. Inara credits this with the first time Ravlor saved her life. When they fought together in the Second Battle of Twin Rivers, Ravlor saved Inara's life, and lost his hawk animal companion in the process.
Inara Edhelhael is a High Elf wizard from Alcarin.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Age
153
Date of Birth
14th day of Othvera, 1332
Birthplace
Alcarin
Spouses
Siblings
Children
Current Residence
Travelling
Gender
Female
Eyes
Emerald
Hair
Black
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Fair
Height
5' 7"
Weight
125 lbs
Time Will Tell, In the End...
28th of Camince, 1485
28th of Camince, 1485
It has been a week since Filandrel’s funeral, and nearly that since I last spoke with Ravlor… a part of me has been sorely wanting to to storm back into Ravlor’s cabin and demand that he talk to me, but Adar is right, I need to give him time…
Both my father and the prince are right in that I, too, need time. So, that is what I’ve been doing… I spent a couple of days working with Grimaldus in my father’s workshop, and aside from that, I’ve been spending most of my time with Meriwald in the woods surrounding Alcarin.
I packed away Filandrel’s robes yesterday… they now sit, neatly folded, in a carved cedar chest. I will don them again when needed, but for now, I need the distance. I have made some disturbing discoveries since reading through Filandrel’s spellbook… dark, forbidden magic that he transcribed… it raises so many more questions… His spellbook contains more spells than I’ve ever seen in a single volume… and many of them are necromantic. I found spells that describe how to trap a soul in a magic jar. Even more disturbing, are the inscriptions that describe the process of creating a clone, as a means of thwarting death. That, combined with his uncomfortable degree of interest in the elder Von Carstein’s research, makes me question everything…
What if Filandrel is actually inhabiting a newer, younger body somewhere in the world? Did he orchestrate his death, as he’s orchestrated so much else in my life so far? After all, when I was speaking to him in the dream, as he was dying, I am reminded of the subtle smile on his face when I asked him what else I needed to know, as his form faded away and the dream collapsed, with his death...
Is he playing me, even now? Is all of this, bringing his body back to Alcarin, the funeral, the Prince offering me his position, and his warnings about Damian… is this all some part of an elaborate scheme where we are all pawns in his game?
I need to speak with Damian about all of this… even though I dread that conversation. Damian hated me when last we spoke, and Meriwald’s findings when he explored Damian’s library in the dream… abhorrent. Filandrel said that for the good of our people, I will need to make Damian my enemy, and together we will save the most people by sending some to their deaths in a senseless war… I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t want to do that. I already have blood on my hands, I don’t want to even think about drenching them in any more…
I will need to speak with Damian at some point, likely sooner rather than later, but I will not do it this day… I have other things to do first…
The princess is still being maintained in her comatic state. I sought an audience with the prince a couple days ago, to see if he would grant me leave to look for a clue for the axiomyte’s command word on his throne. I found it, a silly verse of sorts, inscribed under the seat… I thanked him and promised that I would share any information that I found that could possibly help the princess.
I took the adamantine box far out into the woods, and set about protecting the area from any prying eyes, either magical or physical. Then, I set up a contingency to contain the box in a wall of force should anything go wrong when I opened it… that way there was minimal risk to both myself and the surrounding forest. When I spoke the verse, the locks on the box slid open, and I was able to lift the lid. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the rows upon rows of neatly organized journals and books was not it… I carefully resealed the box and returned to the relative safety of my bedchamber.
Again, shielding myself from prying eyes, I began to pour over the axiomyte’s writings… this was definitely what he claimed – a complete collection of his memories and knowledge, written down in a very organized form, that would be easy to review. Easy from an academic standpoint, not an emotional one… for he had not lied to me… this appears to be a complete collection, with nothing omitted… his writings cover the flight from the First World, the creation of the Wells, the founding of Alcarin and Egig Ero Fa, teaching magic to the humans of this world, the early wars against the dragons, the genocides… all of it… the bloody history of this world that the axiomyte witnessed firsthand. Also, he included directions on how to create and forge artifacts of untold power.
I felt a chill run down my spine at the potential consequences of anyone learning of the existence of this knowledge… much less its location… Filandrel definitely knew, and I fear that the Feathered Woman may be able to infer it, she seems intelligent enough, especially since we showed up to the council meeting, with Hasim reincarnated into the body of the axiomyte, whom she killed for his knowledge, and his refusal to share it with her…
So, I packed everything back into the axiomyte’s box, and hid it in a safe place. One I am not so foolish as to write down…
* * *
Many things have been occupying my thoughts over these past days… the political situation surrounding Alcarin and Runestone, Damian’s role he may or may not be playing in all this, the Princess’ state… but most of all, it is thoughts of those I care about…
Grimaldus seems to be settling in well enough in Alcarin, although I feel as though it is only a matter of time before he’s going to want to be off on the move again, tracking his next hunt… it makes me wonder if we both acted too rashly in the east… will he ultimately be happy when his life calms down enough to allow him some peace? Will he be able to find a home among my people, or will he always feel like a fish out of water, and long for the deserts of his homeland? I can take him back anytime he wishes, but still… I cannot imagine a life where I do not walk among the trees… so what am I asking of him? But not only that, but where does this relationship lead for me?
As I told Adar when I spoke with him, I do love Grimaldus. Of that, I know… but, what will become of this love? By pursuing this, am I merely setting myself up for worse heartbreak in the future? What if his grandmother is right, and there is a child from our union? Then what? Grimaldus will die, I don’t know when, but it is inevitable… as inevitable as the changing of the seasons… then I will be left alone in my grief, potentially with a half-elven child to raise? What would this world be like for such a child?... to be born into a world where you are ostracized, or, at the very least, not fully accepted as a member of either parents’ society?
I do love Grimaldus… but is that love worth the pain that I know is inevitable? I do not know the answer to this question, and my unsurety haunts me.
And then there is the matter of what Doodles revealed to me as I left… his claims that Ravlor loves me. Do not misunderstand, I’ve always known that he cares for me deeply, as I do him… but I never thought it extended into love. On my part, sure, I just managed to bury it deeply enough that I never thought it would be an issue, because I didn’t believe it reciprocated. But, after Doodles and my father’s laughing response, I’ve reliving the past half century of memories whenever I meditate at night…
Ravlor showing up during the snowstorm with the chickens, after digging us out of the snowdrift… our many conversations before the war… his words as he shoved the longbow into my hands in the beginning of the war, and taught me how to shoot it… his hand in mine as we ran to the safety of the outpost during the Battle of Twin Rivers… the days and nights we spent in the forests together after the war… “I know those hands” when I found him outside Yaharghul… his teasing me about Grimaldus when we were in Crassard… the sadness in his eyes when he sailed off with Doodles from Runestone…
I thought it was all just normal friendship on his part, that I was the one who had wished it more…
I don’t know anymore. I am torn… I feel as though my heart is being pulled in two different directions, and he hasn’t even spoken to me in the past week… he’s never done this to me before, but then again, a sinister voice in my mind whispers, I never told him I was betrothed before, either… I am confused. I need to talk to him, because for all I know, I might be reading far more into this than I should… or maybe it is just the stress of these past few months that has been catching up with me… I need to talk with him, and I also need to talk with Grimaldus… I need to know what exactly is going on with Ravlor, and I need to know Grimaldus’ plans for the future… I love Grimaldus dearly, but Ravlor… I don’t even really know what to say… my heart felt like it was torn asunder when he walked away, and my mind craves his conversation…
I guess I shall just have to wait and see how everything plays out… all of it… Ravlor, Grimaldus, Damian, the Princess, even Filandrel and my suspicions regarding his death… only time will tell, in the end…
Picking up the Pieces
22nd of Camince, 1485
22nd of Camince, 1485
Rest eluded me last night. I sat in the window, watching the leaves dance in the moonlight until the wee hours of the morning. Not even laying beside Grimaldus, his arm draped over me, allowed my mind the rest I sought… In the past, whenever my mind would become a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and feelings, I would either speak to Filandrel or seek out Ravlor. But what am I to do when Filandrel is dead, in more ways than one, and Ravlor is at the center of this confusion? I decided to do what I probably should have done way earlier, and go speak with my father…
I slipped into the workshop when dawn’s first light was filtering through the windows. My father was just beginning to start his work when I joined him, taking a seat on the stool next to his workbench. Adar just glanced up from his current project, a desk or table of some kind, and didn’t say anything. I knew he was waiting for me to start. But, I didn’t even know where to begin, so finally, he asked what brought me out here this early.
Finally, I started talking. And once I started, I didn’t stop until I had told him the gist of my entire visit with Ravlor last night. I didn’t go into much detail about what I told Ravlor, instead focusing on what is eating at me… “Doodles said something that’s really bothering me…”
Adar looked up from his carving, an eyebrow raised as he waited for me to continue. “Doodles told me that Ravlor loves me, a lot.”
Adar didn’t seem surprised by this. “And this bothers you?” He asked.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “He never said anything… he told me to go off with Grimaldus… why would he have said that if he didn’t want me to?” I looked at my father helplessly, wiling him to offer me some kind of explanation that would make everything make sense. But, he gave me no such response, he simply stood there, setting down his chisels and waiting patiently for me to continue. “If it’s true, then why didn’t he ever say anything? Hell, he’s never even presented it as a possibility…” my voice trailed off.
“Why do you think I play that stupid game with him?” I shrugged. “I owe him, he owes me… if I’m being perfectly honest, I just viewed it as a way to feel like he’d always be around…” I let out a wry laugh. “It’s stupid, really, but I can’t bear the thought of losing another friend…”
“Losing another friend, or losing Ravlor?” Adar interrupted gently.
“Both? Ravlor?” I admitted miserably. “Why do you think I searched the entire continent to find him when he was taken? And when we were in Crastvongrad, I was willing to do anything Vlatrossi Melkinov demanded, anything, he could have asked of me, in order to get him to restore Ravlor’s eyes and body…”
He stood there for a minute, his emerald eyes assessing. I shifted uncomfortably on the stool, straightening Filandrel’s robes that I hadn’t yet had the heart to remove. A part of me felt like a child again, sitting in my father’s workshop, waiting for him to impart some knowledge to me, some advice that may or may not make sense at the time, but usually ended up being right in the end.
“So what do you want, then?” He asked finally.
“I don’t know…” I admitted. “I do love Grimaldus, but…”
“But, you’re curious about what could be?” He prompted gently.
I nodded.. “Yes, and I fear what will be… am I just setting myself up for failure?”
“I do love him.” I insisted again, not wanting to give Adar the wrong impression of the situation. “And, when he asked me, it seemed like such a great idea, but… I was… ah… drinking with the Charbelly dwarves at the time… it was right after Filandrel… and…”
“It was in the heat of the moment?” Adar prompted quietly.
“Maybe?” I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. “I do love him.” I repeated. “And he’s saved my life a number of times, and I’ve risked mine to save his…” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Ada… I am just a fool, I think… I didn’t see the reality of Filandrel, and now I’m letting the daydreams of a student who fell for the ranger who took pity on her and befriended her, mess with my perception of reality…”
He walked over and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You need to give yourself time. Stay a while, and don’t force yourself to make a decision that you aren’t ready for…”
I looked around the familiar workshop, so I didn’t have to meet his gaze. Everything here is much the same as it was when I was a child, sitting, perched on this same stool, watching my father work. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if Filandrel had never taken me to Egig Ero Fa…” I admitted quietly. “You always wanted an apprentice, after all…”
I caught genuine hurt in Adar’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” I muttered, knowing that both my parents had always wanted what was best for me, and no matter how I miserable and confused I may feel at the moment, their decision to send me to Egig Ero Fa was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I grew so much there, learned far more and expanded my horizons so far beyond anything that my father’s little workshop would have been able to offer me. It just didn’t change the heavy weight of responsibility I felt settling on my shoulders… and sometimes, sometimes I wished for the carefree simplicity of my youth. But alas, that is not the world that we live in, and it is my responsibility to my people to ensure that other children have the chance for such a childhood…
“Why would he do that?” I asked after a time, my anger rising the more I thought about yesterday. At my father’s questioning eyebrow, I continued indignantly. “He doesn’t get to tell me to leave and then be mad at me when I do!” I didn’t need to explain who “he” was.
“We were just talking like we always do, and I mentioned that Grimaldus asked me to marry him. Then, he just said “congratulations” with a fake smile and walked away.” I dashed my eyes with the back of my hand. “He wouldn’t even talk to me… he asked Doodles to walk me out.”
“Can you blame him?” Adar laughed.
“Yes! I do.” At my father’s amused look, I explained. “The only time Ravlor ever hasn’t talked to me was when he was taken…”
“If he is truly your friend, he will reach out. Give him time…” he urged gently.
“I know it’s not fair,” I admitted sullenly. “But still, he shouldn’t have walked away like that…”
“No, but I think we all do things we shouldn’t. Give him time…” Adar smiled solemnly. “You are young, and you’ve already experienced so much hardship. Do something you enjoy and bond with the ones you love in a way that doesn’t involve danger for once…”
“Ok.” I nodded. He was right. “I don’t want to go to the library… I can’t right now…” Too many memories. I glanced at the current piece of furniture he was carving. “Do you want some help?”
“You haven’t asked that since you were a child, and then your mother nearly lost her mind when you hammered your thumb.” But I could tell by the light in his eyes that he was pleased by my request.
I forced a slight smile. “I’m not a child anymore… and if you don’t mind Grimaldus being here too, he can heal my thumbs before Amillë ever finds out. Maybe you could even teach him something?” I asked hopefully. “Maybe he could learn to build something instead of just fighting. His whole life has been nothing but danger and hardship…” I was unabashedly appealing to my father’s sentimentality and protective streak.
“You say that I’ve experienced so much hardship,” I continued. “But at least my home has always been safe… Grimaldus has never really had one… and I’m pretty sure he’s never even met his parents…”
“Bring him.” Adar let out a heavy sigh. “I might as well get to know this man…”
So I did. I found Grimaldus eating breakfast, and once he was finished, I brought him out to the workshop. Grimaldus didn’t complain, and was respectful as he learned something of Elvish carpentry… He either genuinely enjoyed it, or did a good job of hiding his boredom. Either way, I wasn’t complaining – and his healing skills may have come in handy once or twice…
As the World Falls Down
21st of Camince, 1485
21st of Camince, 1485
That numbness, the most welcome detachment, is gone. Ripped away like an autumn leaf in the wind. I went to see Ravlor today. If I’d been thinking more clearly, I might have allowed myself an additional bit of time to stay in a state of floating in an ocean of numb detachment. Alas, I needed to get my journals back, seeing as my concern over Filandrel getting them is no longer an issue… Although, if I’m being perfectly honest, it was also because I really needed to talk to Ravlor.
I told Grimaldus and my parents that I was leaving and would return shortly, then scried on Ravlor’s location. Every time I do that, I have to quell the momentary rush of panic that I won’t be able to find him, but I think it’s just a remnant of old anxiety from when I was searching for him in Latria.
My scrying went off without any issues, so I teleported right outside of their cabin. I looked around, it was what I was expecting… a small, well built cabin, deep in the Alcarin woods. Ravlor must have been keeping an eye on everything, as he had promised.
Doodles answered the door at my knock, his face split into a grin. Ravlor looked up from where he was skinning a couple of rabbits. “You lived.” He stated, glancing pointedly to my journals stacked neatly in a chest.
I nodded. “You too.” Of course he lived, I hadn’t been expecting him to die, but that’s the script we usually follow out of habit.
“Tell me everything.” Ravlor said.
I opened my mouth to speak, to explain what had transpired over the past weeks, but words would not come. I said a single word, “Filandrel,” and felt the floodgates crash open. All of the pain that I’d been burying beneath my façade of control came rushing to the surface and tears began pouring, uncontrolled, down my face.
Ravlor wiped his hands clean on a rag, and wrapped me in a huge hug. I just stood there, feeling completely out of control as sobs wracked my body. Ravlor just did what he always does, and held me until the tears stopped enough that I could speak coherently.
“Where is everyone else?” He gently prompted after a while.
“Grimaldus is in Alcarin.” I took a shuddering breath, lifting my head from his shoulder. “Dekar is dead, you already know… Hasim died and Rowan reincarnated him into the body of the axiomyte… something he didn’t belong in… he doesn’t even speak Elvish!” I lamented, not wanting to examine why that in particular bothers me so bad. “I even tried to teach him, but he refused to learn…:
“Inira is a vampire now.” I blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt at Ravlor’s shocked expression. I probably could have handled that better… “And Rowan…” I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together. “Filandrel killed her.”
Ravlor looked apologetic, but not entirely surprised. He had warned me… “You NEED to stop. Get away from him as soon as you can.”
“Stop what?” I had asked.
“Talking to him. Being around him. Knowing him. Everything. He’s dangerous… he’s beyond dangerous… Why do you think he even needs to hide his identity around our own kin? He’s a killer.”
He didn’t say anything, he just stood there and waited for me to continue. “He trapped me in a force cage, and apologized… looking right at me as he killed her.” I didn’t bother wiping the fresh wave of tears. “I couldn’t stop him… I just stood there, helplessly banging my fists against the wall while Rowan died right there in front of me, and I didn’t do anything to stop it!”
“Didn’t?” Ravlor asked quietly. “Or couldn’t?”
“Didn’t, couldn’t…” I shrugged miserably. “It amounts to the same thing.”
“No, it doesn’t, Inara, and you know it!” Ravlor pulled back, gripping my shoulders and forcing me to meet his gaze. “Don’t do that to yourself. You did what you could with the hand you were dealt.”
I shook my head. “But, I asked him…” without the armored façade I’d maintained for the past few days, my guilt was laid bare like an open wound, and an insidious voice in my mind whispered that he would condemn me for it. He should condemn me for it… “I invited him to join us. I asked him for his help…”
“Inara…” Ravlor said.
“You don’t understand…” I started to explain, feeling like I was digging my own grave. “I couldn’t even harm him, in the end… it was Grimaldus and Hasim who killed him… and when he was dying, I would likely have saved him, if I could… I hated him, but, I still…” I trailed off, unable to put words on the conflicted feelings swirling through my mind and heart. I wanted Filandrel to pay for what he did, but at the same time, I don’t think I would have been able to actually kill him… what does that say about me?
“Inara…” Ravlor insisted. “Don’t do this to yourself… you care. That’s never a bad thing. You’re a good person… you care, even when you shouldn’t, when it’s…” I could almost hear his unspoken “Filandrel”, “…undeserved.”
I shook my head, but didn’t argue… it was pointless anyways, he wouldn’t change his opinion on that, he never had…
“Hate to spoil the moment…” Doodles called over his shoulder, poking at the fire. “But dinner. I don’t have that many more years, and I don’t intend on missing another dinner.” He cackled, rubbing his slight paunch. When I looked at Doodles, it hit me… he is looking older, even than the last time I saw him.
Ravlor’s earlier comment about dreading the inevitable loss of the goblin surfaced in my mind. Doodles is getting old, nearing the end of his life… Hasim will grow old and die… even Damian, for all of the issues surrounding him right now… he will grow old and be gone in less than a century. Secilia will likely have a longer life than the others, but not compared to mine. And Grimaldus… Grimaldus isn’t a young man as it is… there will come a point, sometime far too soon for me, that he will reach the end of his life, and I will be left to go on. This is what everyone has been warning me about… I realized. What am I doing? Humans live so much in the moment, because they can… their lives are short… but what if I live so much in the moment that when Grimaldus’ moments are done, I don’t want to have any more of my own?
“Come, join us for dinner and we can talk more.” Ravlor interrupted my thoughts, brushing a stray tear from my cheek almost reflexively.
Dinner was the simple, but delicious, fare that seems common among the rangers. Meriwald was thrilled when Ravlor handed him an entire platter of meat… prepared just the way Meriwald prefers, which is to say, not at all… It was the first time I’ve seen him happy in days, and I’ll take anything good that I can get right now…
Over dinner, I started at the beginning and gave him a summary of what has transpired since I went east with Grimaldus, Inira and Dekar. I told him of our meeting Hasim, how his wife had been murdered, and his baby barely clinging onto life when we met. How Grimaldus had healed the child and dedicated him to his dead god, before Secilia’s summoned guardian, Uriel, took the baby away for safekeeping. I told him of meeting Rowan, and how she was able to heal the trees, and took the myconid child under her wing.
I told him of Alfarid and our desperate teleportation to Wei Jang, a city where the guards were undead and the exquisite beauty was a thin veneer over a hive of corruption. Ravlor was unsurprised by that, but he has never been overly fond of cities… and when compared to the peaceful solitude of his cabin, I cannot say I disagree. I told him of meeting the axiomyte, and of our conversations… what he revealed about Filandrel, and our people’s history – including the near genocide for our blood to fight the dragons.
I filled him in on the details of our journey to Loec, and our infiltration of the undead city. He was bothered by that, as to be expected – for I hadn’t wanted to be there either, but explained that I wasn’t going to let my friends go to their deaths when I was the best chance they had of being able to get out alive… teleportation and all.
When dinner was over, we went outside and continued our conversation. The silences were comfortable, with Ravlor playing quiet melodies on his flute like he used to. Eventually, my account circled back around to Rowan, and Filandrel. I shook my head sadly. He was sympathetic, but Ravlor had never actually met Rowan.
“She was the most genuinely good person I’ve ever met…” I said, the same feeling of helplessness that I felt when trapped in the force cage bleeding into my voice. “I don’t even know why she was friends with any of us…” And there it was… the crux of the issue that I was trying to come to terms with… I didn’t deserve her friendship, none of us did… and none of us deserved her sacrifice either.
“That is often the case with the best people in our lives.” Ravlor said gently.
“But she was so good.” I shook my head, looking at him helplessly. “Ravlor… she felt bad for the ghoul babies when they died…” I shook my head again, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. “I’ve killed children…”
“Our lives have forced us to do… many things that we have to live with…” Ravlor said, his unwavering gaze my lifeline as I pulled myself together.
“I know. But have you thought that maybe we should just refuse?” I asked. “Rowan freed all of the dragons from under the trees, and healed the great trees… and she managed to do so without killing anyone else in the end… just herself…”
He nodded. “I’ve been considering taking some time with Doodles, reconsider a few things.”
We sat in silence for a time, before I finished my tale. I told him of how the dragon just disappeared into thin air after Rowan vanished, and how the desiccated husk of a great tree immediately sprouted as life poured into the region. I told him of the celebration, which hadn’t felt very celebratory to me, in light of Filandrel and Rowan. I had gotten drunk on dwarven ale with the forces from Fort Mahogany. I told him that everyone was celebrating and seemed so happy, Grimaldus proposed, but even with the bits of happy, I couldn’t think of anything but Filandrel, his betrayal, and that his body was laying a short distance away, waiting for me to return it to Alcarin. I had felt like I was floating in a void, completely disconnected from everything and everyone around me.
“So, you’re getting married?” Ravlor asked, his expression shuttered.
“Grimaldus asked me.” I replied.
“Congratulations.” Ravlor forced a smile. “It’s good to find happiness. After everything you’ve been through, you should pursue what your heart asks of you.” He stood abruptly, without his usual grace. “It’s getting late. You should return before he begins to worry.”
What? It’s not even that late… When I opened my mouth to speak, Ravlor grabbed my shoulder, shaking his head. "Don't." He then briefly grasped my hand before turning and walking away. “Until next time, my friend.”
“What?” I snapped, confused as to why he cut me off so abruptly. He’s never done that before…
“Doodles and I will be around for a while.” He said over his shoulder without turning around. “Come and visit whenever you like.” With that, Ravlor disappeared into his cabin, the false smile still plastered on his face.
I stood up and followed him back to the cabin. I still needed to get my journals, besides, Ravlor doesn’t get to just walk away from me like that, without even talking about what’s wrong.
“Forget something?” Doodles asked as he opened the door.
“Ravlor!” I snapped, ignoring Doodles as I brushed past him into the cabin.
Ravlor glanced up from where he was stoking the fire. “Yes?”
“What’s the matter?” I demanded, my voice rising. “I’m trying to do what you told me to do in Crassard… and now, I feel like no matter what I ever do, it’s always the wrong fucking thing!”
“You’re doing what is best for you, but for my own sake, I need to do what’s best for me. Do you understand?” Ravlor’s voice was shaky, and he continued to stoke the fire. “We can talk again soon. Doodles, make sure she gets home safe.”
“What are you saying?” I asked quietly, completely at a loss.
Ravlor didn’t reply, and didn’t look at me, his gaze locked onto the fireplace. It was like he slammed a wall of force between us and I didn’t know what to do.
Doodles brought me my journals and I glanced over my shoulder at Ravlor, who was still completely focused on his task. “Thanks for dinner.” I said as I allowed Doodles to walk me out.
As soon as the door latched behind me, I crumbled. I felt like I’d just be stabbed in the heart, and couldn’t stop my tears from wracking my body. I don’t know how long I stood there, probably only a few minutes, before Doodles came outside with Meriwald. Meriwald landed on my shoulder and buried his head in my hair, for once not voicing an opinion.
“What’s his problem?” I asked Doodles, jerking my head back toward the cabin, keeping my face turned away from the goblin so he wouldn’t see my tears.
“He loves you, you know? A fucking lot.” Doodles said, sounding somewhat defensive. “Even I can see that shit.”
“Then why the hell did he tell me to leave with Grimaldus?” I shot back, turning to look at Doodles. “Why didn’t he ever say anything? The only thing he ever said about it was to tell me to go east with Grimaldus and the others, and then refuse to come too when I asked…”
“Don’t ask me, he’s a complicated guy.” Doodles shrugged, then peered at me intently for a split second. “Aw shit… you’re crying… umm…” he reached out and wrapped his arms around my legs in a hug.
“He should have said something…” I sniffed. “Anything…”
Doodles shrugged, and said goodbye, waving as he walked back to the cabin.
I stood there for a full minute, part of me desperately wanting to storm back into the cabin and demand that Ravlor talk to me… but I can’t do that to him. If he’s not wanting to talk to me, who am I to force the issue? He never forced me to talk when I didn’t want to… no, I need to give him some time, it’s the least I can do for him. So, I wiped my tears and teleported home.
It was late into the evening when I slipped into the house. Grimaldus was already asleep, and I could hear the quiet murmurings of my parents’ late night conversation. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and I wasn’t in the mood for questions, so I took my journal and slipped into my bedroom. And here I sit, in the window of my childhood room, gazing out at the waning moonlight filtering through the trees. Silent tears slip down my face as I let my mind wander through the past century of my memories. Filandrel… Elwing, Morwen and the other friends I lost in the war… Garrick… Dekar… Damian… Rowan… Inira… the axiomyte... Filandrel… and now even Ravlor is refusing to talk to me.
How much more of this can I handle? What is the threshold that I can take before my mind cracks under the pressure? What about what Doodles said? If Ravlor loves me, and has loved me… then why did he never say anything? I glance over to where Grimaldus is quietly snoring in the corner, and feel as though my heart is slowly being torn in two…
Burial beneath the Boughs
20th of Camince, 1485
20th of Camince, 1485
It is done.
There is something poetically final about burials beneath the great trees… Maybe it was today that I was waiting for, for as I write this, Filandrel’s death feels unbearably final. The funeral was today, I suppose I should have begun this entry with that, although I’m sure that the context was clear…
I was invited to the palace for the ceremony. Prince Oberon personally sent for me, to ensure that I would not miss the funeral. I think that he wanted me to see that he was upholding his agreement for Filandrel to receive a proper burial… not that I expected anything less, especially considering their blood relation.
Grimaldus and my parents were in attendance, along with thousands of our people, all come to pay their respects. I stood there, feeling like my heart was crumbling, as I stood in what would have been Filandrel’s assigned position for such formal events. I stood in his place, wearing his robes. I debated it this morning, but in the end, and after encouragement from my parents, I decided that it would be best. It is what Filandrel would have wanted.
I know to Grimaldus it must seem strange, the ceremony to honor one who ultimately betrayed all of us, but, how do I explain it to him? How can I begin to explain the great loss to our entire people that comes from his passing? I was angry at Filandrel, I will likely be angry again, but right now, I am in pain.
I stood there, watching everyone file by, catching the covert glances cast my way, people wondering, but being too polite to question. I saw many faces I recognized, survivors of the Union War, and others, students who I’d known in Egig Ero Fa… and many more I’d never seen before. Some, I had heard of, but after a while, all of the faces blurred together in a formless sea.
I felt like an imposter, I didn’t belong in this place, so close to the prince… I should have been one of those passing by, paying my respects, like the others whom he’d taught. But no, I stood there, my face an expressionless mask, as I tried to conceal all of the roiling emotions inside. I wanted to rage and scream. I wanted to lash out at everyone around me for never realizing that Filandrel was playing us all… I wanted to run off into the woods, curl up into a ball, and cry until my eyes could make no more tears.
But, I did none of that. I stood stoically, watching the countless elves file past for what felt like an eternity, my face a mask Filandrel would have been proud of.
Finally, after the last visitors had paid their respects, Filandrel’s body was taken down to the base of the great tree in Alcarin… There, he was laid to rest in a tomb made of boughs woven amid the roots of the tree.
I stood there, transfixed, as the druids sealed the tomb with entwining vines and roots. Rowan would have liked this… the thought came unbidden into my mind. She would have… this is the burial that Rowan should have gotten… but no, we didn’t even have her body when she went into the throne.
I don’t know how long I stood there, long after the druids had completed their task and gone. The last of the mourners were leaving, when I felt a hand come to rest on my shoulder. I glanced back, half expecting to see my father, but surprised to see Prince Oberon, his eyes filled with his own conflicted sorrow.
“Go, Inara.” He said gently. “Go home. Be with your family and loved ones… rest, and give yourself time to heal.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to answer further. The prince gripped my shoulder for a moment, then turned away to return to the palace. “We will speak again.” He said over his shoulder. “When you are ready…”
And so, I held my head high and made the long walk back home. I had to bite my lip a few times to focus myself, but I succeeded in maintaining my mask for the most part. By the time I reached my parents’ door, I felt numb again… detached. Like I was watching myself through a scrying mirror, going through the motions of walking home, going inside, and briefly speaking to Grimaldus and my parents. I know from past experience that this numbness will fade, but for now, I’ll welcome its embrace. I will pay the price for it later, but not today… today, I will welcome the feeling of floating on an ocean of numb detachment…
Return to Alcarin
18th of Camince, 1485
18th of Camince
These past two days have passed me by in a daze. Grimaldus accompanied me to Alcarin when I returned home. To say that my parents were surprised by our engagement is an understatement. They were unfailingly polite to Grimaldus, as always, but I knew that I was going to have much explaining to do when we were alone…
I didn’t stay long… I basically said hello to them in a daze, and asked for Grimaldus to stay there. Then, I conjured a floating disk and carefully laid Filandrel’s body in state. I almost found myself wishing that I had learned just enough necromancy to make him look asleep instead of dead… but that is beside the point, it would be more for my own peace of mind than anything else. Though, right now, I don’t deserve to have peace of mind, considering that this is all due to my own decisions. If I hadn’t asked for Filandrel’s help, then he might not have even known the particulars of what we were planning. And Rowan might still be here… I know that she gave her life using the throne, but maybe Filandrel killing her weakened her somewhat first? I don’t know… I cannot afford to think on this right now… there will be plenty of time for that later.
Covering Filandrel’s body in a shroud, I made my way to the palace, the floating disk following a short distance behind me. The guards immediately granted me entrance to the antechamber, and there I waited for an audience.
Speculation buzzed around me as the various officials and courtiers tried to discern what was happening, without being obtuse. I am pleased that I was able to maintain a carefully neutral expression, when I so desperately wanted to scream and shout at them to begone. My business was none of their concern, and Filandrel’s body was not for their viewing… that would come later, at his funeral, if the Prince decided to allow it… right now, this was between myself, and Prince Oberon, Filandrel’s nephew.
I don’t know how long I waited, before the prince finally arrived. His gaze landed on me and settled on my face. I think he must have known why I was here, because he immediately bade me enter the throne room, and ordered it cleared. More people shot me furtive, curious glances as they filed past.
When the throne room was empty, the Prince glanced at the shroud. “Is that who I think it is?”
Not trusting my voice, I merely nodded.
Prince Oberon approached the disk, and gently pulled back the shroud. I could see a flash of the pain he tried to hide as he gazed at Filandrel’s body. I was surprised that he showed no reaction to the change in appearance… I would have thought he would have been at least a bit taken aback at the scarred face and silver-blond hair…
“How did this happen?” he asked quietly.
“In the east…” I cleared the lump out of my throat. “We were going to face the Decimator of Cities, the dragon… I reached out to him. Stupid, I know… but I did. I asked him for help.” I took a deep, shaky breath, and continued. “He betrayed us.” I shook my head, unable to meet the prince’s eyes. “I was desperate, and I made a mistake. I knew I shouldn’t trust him, but I thought…”
“I thought… I wanted to believe him when he said he would help.” I finished before I lost my nerve.
“In his own way, he likely wanted to, I would like to think.” The prince’s voice was gentle. Gentle and understanding, when I wanted him to shout at me, call me a fool, stop being so damn nice to me, because this was all my fault.
“I heard there was a great power in the city.” Prince Oberon said thoughtfully. “He was likely interested in it.”
“There was.” I nodded. “He was…”
The prince stood there, waiting for me to elaborate, giving me time I didn’t deserve. “My friend…” I explained. “The best person you could ever meet, the most pure hearted and genuinely good person on the face of this world… he killed her. Rowan was going to use the throne to restore the great trees and hold off the darkness… I was taking her to the throne while the others held off the dragon. I called to Filandrel for help because the dragon was overwhelming us, and he arrived in front of us, instead of facing the dragon. He trapped me in a force cage that I couldn’t counterspell, and then he killed her… just like that.” I paused for a deep, steadying breath.
“So, as you can imagine… well…” I motioned to Filandrel’s body, my voice trailing off. “He did think he was doing the best for our people…” I stated. “He was just going about it in the worst way.”
I stood there, looking at Filandrel’s face, my mind not fully in the throne room. “He apologized to me, even as he killed Rowan.” I explained quietly. “He said it was necessary in order to preserve our people.” I could feel my eyes burning with tears that I refused to let fall.
“Preserving our people isn’t worth losing what makes us Elvish in the first place.” The prince stated with sad conviction.
“I know… I tried to talk to him, but it didn’t work… even in the end…”
“I suppose he was beyond speaking to…” Prince Oberon mused sadly. “We will need to ensure he is still honored properly. Despite… everything…”
“Please.” I said, unable to hide the despair in my voice. “Our people have lost two of our eldest members in these past weeks…”
“I heard of the old smith.” He said, moving to sit on one of the steps leading up to his throne. “We will honor him as well, in whatever way we can…”
I nodded. That is good at least. “Filandrel told me that they were brothers… and the axiomyte said that they’d come here from the First World together, in their youth.”
That took the prince by surprise. “I don’t think they wanted it public,” I continued. “But seeing as…” I glanced pointedly at the body. “I don’t think that matters much anymore…”
Oberon nodded solemnly. “We’ve lost, and continue to lose so much…”
A baby cried upstairs. “How is your wife?” I asked cautiously, with a glance at the ceiling.
“She is still unconscious, but stable.” The prince replied. “The circle of druids has kept her well…” he trailed off.
We sat in silence for some time, each absorbed in our respective thoughts. Finally, Prince Oberon stood up with a sigh. “After the funeral,” his voice was quiet. “I would like you to take some time for yourself… Return with the answer to what I proposed whenever you are ready.” And with that, he turned and left, leaving me standing alone in the throne room with Filandrel’s body. Someone came shortly thereafter to collect the body and begin preparations for the funeral.
* * *
Both Grimaldus and my parents have largely left me alone since I returned from the palace. I am grateful, for I don’t wish to speak to anyone right now… my thoughts weigh heavily on my mind… I’ve been going through the few personal effects that Filandrel had on his person, although I haven’t had the courage to look through his spell book yet. Something about such an invasion of privacy seems inappropriate in a way. I will have to face it soon, but I can’t today… maybe I’ll feel ready for it after his funeral. It still hasn’t fully sunk in, a part of me half expects to receive word from him, or go to the library and find him once again pouring over old books…
It is an odd mystery… the mind… I should hate him. I do hate him. But I also miss him. I crave the intellectual challenge of his discussions, the sense of security that his presence used to provide. I know now that it was all a lie, but it still doesn’t keep the mind from wanting, even if it’s akin to grasping at the morning dew in hopes of rain.
But, I must go, I can hear Grimaldus moving about downstairs, and if he starts rummaging through the pantry looking for food, I fear it might end badly… he can’t read any of the labels…
Of Endings and Broken Hearts
16th of Camince, 1485
16th of Camince, 1485
Dawn yesterday brought with it an ominous wind. Filandrel looked at me. “Do you feel that? I’ve only felt that once before… when we left our world.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “What could cause it?”
“Something terrible is coming. Whatever it is, we don’t seem to have much of a choice to play it out.”
Inira and the others joined us. Looking around, I cast message, asking Filandrel to please just tell me the command word for the axiomyte’s box, just in case everything goes awry.
He shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “Whatever happens, just know… we’ll get through it. We have to.”
Filandrel agreed to assist the dwarves south of the gate, telling me to send for him “if further danger strikes.”
With that, Vignir and Filandrel teleported with me to set up the diluvian. As soon as it was set in place, the dwarven forces led by Paragon Cindy began marching through. They formed up as Karkhadon arrived, and Cindy stepped up to handle him personally.
Vignir decided to stay behind as we headed to the city. Filandrel looked away from the abashai that were walking towards us and turned to me. “Draconian wizards… have you fought their ilk before?”
“Not those ones.” I shrugged.
“It’s quite simple really. Abashai are quite simple minded. When you encounter the dragon however, do not expect him to land. Do not expect him to be stupid, either. If I’m needed, send for me. I’ll come back in.” His gaze bored into my own. “I’ll leave everything behind for you, do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Best of luck.” Filandrel said as we turned toward the city entrance.
Rowan contacted Hogar, telling him to bring his forces in from the west.
“I’ll see you later, my girl. We’ll live through this. You’ll have a story to tell.”
“Don’t forget what you promised me.” I reminded him.
Then, I teleported us into the city proper…
We arrived atop the southern wall of the inner city. The wall was formed from a combination of bone and black iron. Still moving, still semi-living creatures were formed into the wall. I could see sandstorms forming across the desert, and dust was rising in the distance. It looked like Secilia was facing off against her jackal-headed patron, but I honestly wasn’t paying enough attention to be certain.
Hasim and Alucard decided to run to her aid, but when Grimaldus turned to me, I told him that we cannot lose the opportunity that the dwarven forces are giving us, at the chance to save one person. It was truly a choice to save one person, or to try and save the entire world… Secilia knew her choice when she made it.
From our vantage point, I was able to make out Cindy trading blows with Karkhadon. Vignir flew over the army of kobolds, lightning crackling down. There was also someone odd… a figure wearing a flowing cape hovering in the sky. Hundreds of kobolds rose into the air, apparently whoever it was reversed the gravity on a section of the dragon’s army.
Dozens of young dragons approached from the sky, descending down on the dwarven forces. The entire sky was rumbling with the thundering of thousands of wings.
A deep voice sounded in the air, seemingly coming from far past the horizon. “Inara. Grimaldus.” It said. “Only you two could have convinced my comrades to do something so desperate and stupid…” Any confusion as to the voice’s origin was immediately cleared as blood began to rain down from the sky. Apparently, we had caught the Blood Lord’s attention… something that I cannot believe brought me a slight feeling of relief… Shard might prove to be a powerful ally this day… As the sky began to fill with thousands upon thousands of bat like creatures, and it looked like the very heavens had erupted into a war… I turned to Grimaldus. “What have we done?…” I breathed, ignoring the look of utter rapture on Inira’s face.
Turning, we ran toward the dragon and the throne beyond. I tried not to look down as we walked… the crunching of breaking bone was loud enough that I couldn’t shove it out of my mind. We were walking on the bones of still writhing corpses, their mouths opened in wordless moans of anguish. Some of them opening their skeletal mouths in an attempt to drink the blood that was falling from the now deep crimson sky.
As we approached the center of the city, where I assumed that the throne was… great wings extended into the air behind a massive building, the breadth of them extending past both sides of the structure. The great dragon, the decimator of cities, slowly began approaching us.
I turned to Rowan, exercising all of my willpower to not panic. “You’re the only one who has any potential of being worthy to do anything with that throne!” Now that we were right there, I was convinced that the best chance for the entire world was going to be for Rowan, and only Rowan, to sit upon the throne.
“I agree.” Hasim chimed in from behind us.
“You might actually do something good with it!” I could feel panic rising in my chest as I was trying to convince her, trying to give her something worth living for… she looked a little paler to me than she had the previous night and I knew I was right… Rowan needed to be the one to sit upon the throne.
“What makes you think that?” Disbelief was written all across her small face.
“Out of everybody here,” I explained quickly. “You’re the only one who was bothered by the death of undead children.”
“But I still killed them.” Rowan deadpanned.
“Yes, but it bothered you.” I insisted.
“But I still did it though…” she sounded lost.
“Yes, but it didn’t bother me, okay?” How could I make her see what I was trying to say?
Meriwald interrupted any further conversation, shrieking that this could wait, and we had more important things to deal with, like the big fucking dragon that was currently approaching our little group. Everyone rushed into action then. I told Meriwald to cast mage armor on himself and to fly as far away from the dragon as he could.
Secilia joined us, and after a quick berating from the others. I turned back to Rowan. “You could also do something to help my people… please.”
Hasim rounded on her. “No matter what, Rowan, do not hit that dragon last.”
At her guilty expression, he growled and turned away to face the dragon. I was worried, that with Rowan already bleaching, that she might decide to take the brunt of the dragon’s curse as a way to make amends for what she thinks she did wrong. But the thing is though… if Rowan thinks she is so deserving of punishment… then what does that say about the rest of us?
“Cojisto told me that I would have to make a decision…” Rowan said quietly.
“Everyone has to make a decision, every single day of their life.” I retorted.
“Right now,” Inira bit out. “We’re trying to make a decision not to all die.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Inira had a point…
“If I die…” I told Rowan. “Go to Alcarin. Next to the gardens is a little house with a garden and a workshop in the back. Tell my parents.”
“If I survive.” Rowan said quietly.
“You will.” I insisted. “You better.” In that moment, I refused to consider any other option.
“Fine.” Rowan conceded. “I won’t die if you won’t die.”
“Grimaldus.” Hasim said. “It has been an honor fighting alongside you. I will forever in your debt for keeping my child secure.”
Grimaldus’ helmet visor was already down. He lifted his mace in a salute of acknowledgement of Hasim’s words.
I reached up and planted a soft kiss on the cold steel of Grimaldus’ helmet. It could very likely be the last.
Hasim addressed Secilia, but his words were cut short as the dragon spoke, his voice booming across the distance. “Lest we engage, tell me… what is your purpose here? If you sought to live, you’d naught but have to run and hide. But then tell me, Child of Men… to wage war on the passing of days… is that your purpose here? To raise grand cities from stone, like the one before you… spawn new life in turn. What sort of tapestry do you wish to weave?”
“Fuck you!” Hasim shouted back. “I’ve got a kid to stay safe, and my wife will be pissed if I die!”
As the dragon spoke, I felt Grimaldus tap me with his mace. At first, I thought that he was trying to get my attention, before I felt the tingling vibration of magic course its way through my body, settling in the vicinity of my chest. It gave me a feeling of security that I have difficulty placing, but it was welcome nonetheless.
The dragon flew closer, and I was struck by how gargantuan he was. He studied us for a moment, until his gaze settled on Grimaldus. “I see you have brought the black mace. Pick up arms, then. For my kind do not heed the toothless!”
Gems lined the entirety of the dragon’s body. Massive golden bracers were on his arms, and he bore a necklace forged from what appeared to be countless gems taken from the crowns of human kings. His scales seemed to have been gilded bronze with the countless metals taken from chain and armor from thousands of men. With every movement, his scales rattled metallically, and as he flew, there was a collective moan of pain rising from all of the corpses in the city.
As the dragon drew closer, Inira chanted, calling forth a swarm of bats that immediately flew at his eyes. He immediately flew straight towards us, ignoring the bats, and released a breath of fire and sheer force that slammed into us. As the flames headed for me, I cast a spell to try to shield me from at least some of his fire… it hurt. So bad that it sent me reeling, the smell of my own singed clothes and flesh in my nostrils.
Grimaldus called for everyone to stay close to him. I looked at the dragon, waiting for him to unleash his breath at us again. This foe was beyond any of us. So, I did the best thing that I could think of. I sent a message to Filandrel, asking for his help with the dragon.
Before I even received his reply “I’ll be there soon,” I felt my burns healing, as Grimaldus chanted a healing spell. The searing pain was reduced to a dull ache, and as I looked up, I saw Rowan begin to run towards the throne.
The dragon tried to cage a charging Hasim, but Inira was able to counter his casting. “You think I’d let you approach me, elf?” His voice boomed out.
“How else am I supposed to beat the shit out of you?” Hasim countered, as he charged at the dragon. They engaged in a furious melee with each other, and I was pleased to see that Hasim has managed to familiarize himself enough with the axiomyte’s body to be able to utilize the dexterity that comes naturally to my people. Now, if he would learn to speak Elvish, he might be able to pass, in the company of humans at least…
But, apparently, Hasim wasn’t dexterous enough, because the dragon managed to grab him for a split second. Alucard charged in then, cutting a swathe of cuts down the dragon’s back.
The dragon raised his free hand in the air and began to call a meteor storm. I tried desperately to counter it, but I wasn’t fast enough. Alucard called out a counter from behind the dragon, and I think I heard him apologize. The dragon turned his head back toward him “You will be second to die.” His booming voice was unusually quiet in that moment.
I looked across the plaza at Rowan running with all her heart toward the building that housed the throne. There was no way that her legs would be able to take her there fast enough. Already, I could see Secilia’s gaze cutting over to her. I glanced over at Grimaldus, Hasim and Alucard… They would have to take it from here for now. They would have to.
“You would leave him behind?” The dragon taunted me. “Then he will die.”
Ignoring the dragon, and the little voice in my head whispering that I was abandoning the Grimaldus, and the others, to die in battle, I ran towards Rowan. She needed to get to that throne. And she would never make it alone… not without transforming into something that could fly – which would draw the immediate attention of the dragon. So, I ran. I ran and then called on my magic to take me the rest of the way to her side. Then, I reached down and grabbed her shoulder, conjuring a dimensional door to open, bringing us another five hundred feet closer to the throne. Almost there.
Rowan looked at me. “Run!” I told her. She took off running again. I’d be able to catch up with her and bring us both the rest of the way, if needed. But, I wanted to be able to keep an eye on the rest of what was going on… my attention was drawn the wrong way… the dragon must have done something to the land itself, for a sinkhole opened up under Rowan. Fortunately, she managed to skip around the edge of the falling sandpit.
I cast a flying spell on myself and followed Rowan, running a foot above the ground. Glancing back at Grimaldus’ shout to Alucard, I saw Hasim laying prone on the flying disc. Oh shit. There was no turning back now, and Rowan’s mission was more important.
Filandrel appeared then, in front of Rowan. “How can I help?” He asked.
“Help with the dragon!” I called to him as I ran closer.
“Well, yes.” He nodded.
“Please.” Oh good. I thought as I glanced back. Now the others will have a better fighting chance.
Filandrel looked at me as I drew closer, and then I slammed into an invisible wall. It stopped me short. I tried to make my way around it, but it was everywhere, surrounding me, caging me in. Filandrel must have cast it when he looked at me, but he never uttered a word, or gave any indication that he was casting a spell. He just looked at me, and then I was trapped.
“I am sorry.” He said quietly in Elvish, shaking his head. “But I have to save our people.”
No… no no no no no. Dread rose up like a beast inside me as he turned towards Rowan. I knew it then, Filandrel was about to do something terrible. I tried to counter spell whatever it was that he was going to cast, but it was like the cage cut off my connection to magic.
Filandrel then uttered a single word, and Rowan crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. NO! I don’t know if I screamed it aloud or if it was just in my mind. I slammed my fists against the invisible wall, tears running unchecked down my face. This was all my fault.
Filandrel turned then, leaving Rowan’s crumpled little body laying in the sand, and began walking purposefully, calmly, toward the throne. I stood there, not far from Rowan’s body, but unable to reach her, watching Filandrel walk away. I am such a fool. I tried to open a dimensional door, I tried to teleport out, I tried everything… it was as though no magic at all would pass through the cage… not even enough for me to gather for a cantrip. I was forced to just stand there, helpless, as I watched everything crumble around me. Rowan was coughing up copious amounts of blood. “Rowan!” I shouted to her, slamming my fists into the wall again and again until they began to ache. I don’t think Rowan heard me. I hope she knew that I was trying to get to her. I don’t want her to think that I abandoned her after my former master betrayed her. After I betrayed her… for by bringing Filandrel here, did I not betray all of them? I thought I knew better… I thought Ravlor had it wrong when he warned me… I’d thought he was exaggerating a bit because he despises Filandrel so much… Never did I think it would come to this…
Rowan’s eyes and mouth were covered in blood. So much blood that I couldn’t read her lips. I did hear her voice answer me in my mind, hoarse as she faded. “Tell Meriwald that I love him.”
Then she was gone. As though I was looking through a haze, viewing everything through a pane of glass on a rainy day. Stabbing, heart wrenching anguish and grief filled my mind, as I could hear Meriwald screaming in rage and denial, his grief compounding my own, battering like a tempest.
Inira and Secilia flew into the building after Filandrel, completely ignoring Rowan’s small form. I doubt they even noticed, so focused were they on reaching the throne. I found that I didn’t even care. If one had asked me an hour earlier, when we initially stepped into the city, I would have been willing to stand against nearly any member of our party in order to allow Rowan her chance at the throne. But now? What did it matter? Filandrel was already there, and against him, Inira and Secilia didn’t stand a chance. I hadn’t even known he was casting when he caged me in, and I’ve been learning from him, watching him, for most of my life…
I somehow thought that with the threat of the dragon, that Filandrel would have seen reason. Couldn’t he see the goodness in Rowan and see that she was the most worthy to do something with the throne? She might have a chance at actually doing something good. I trusted him. I allowed him back in just a little bit… I thought it was the best choice at the time.
Alucard appeared outside the invisible cage. I could barely see him through the blurring of my tears. He extended his hand to me and I felt a pulling on my body, and he teleported me out of the cage into the entrance of the building.
Filandrel was just ahead, and when I appeared, he looked at me apologetically. “You have to understand, none of this is personal.”
“It feels really damn personal to me!” I bit out.
“Pick a side!” Filandrel called.
“You fucking lied to me again!” I shouted. “You promised!”
“Such is the fate of our kind…” he whispered, shaking his head.
“Show me what you’ve learned, then.” Filandrel’s voice held a deadly challenge. “Come on…”
I took a deep breath and cast mirror image, summoning illusionary duplicates that mirrored all of my movements.
“Smart.” Filandrel nodded in approval. There was a time, not so long ago, that I used to love hearing his approval. Now, it felt like a boulder sitting on my chest. I wanted to kill him. I wanted no harm to come to him. I wanted to scream and rage and use my magic to tear him asunder. But I also wanted to go back in time, to sit in his library and drink tea, and have the Filandrel I knew, my mentor, tell me everything was okay and this was all a misunderstanding. But there was no misunderstanding…
The dragon appeared in the building. He’d shapeshifted into a humanoid form to allow himself in. Hasim was right on his heels. He stopped a short distance away from Filandrel, squaring off, his eyes seething with rage.
Filandrel glanced over at Hasim, taking in his rage-filled expression. “You know, this image looks terribly familiar… if only you knew…”
I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened that led to Filandrel facing off against the seething axiomyte in the past. Judging by what had just happened though, I wouldn’t be surprised if Filandrel had betrayed him similarly.
“Are you at least going to tell me the damn word?” I snapped.
“I will.” Filandrel replied. “Once I’m done killing your friends.”
“Fuck you.” I shot back. What did he think I was going to do? Just stand by and let it happen?
Secilia launched a spell at him, and Filandrel immediately poofed out of existence… it was only an illusion. I knew it then, Filandrel wasn’t even in the building anymore… one step ahead as always.
As soon as Filandrel’s illusion was dispelled, the dragon shifted back into his true form. Oh shit. I turned and ran, casting misty step as I ran, out of the building. I knew that there was no way that it could support the size of the dragon inside, much less the devastation he was bound to unleash.
Grimaldus was running towards me, his eyes intent on Rowan’s body. I caught a glimpse of Filandrel appear behind Grimaldus, as I grabbed hold of Rowan’s shoulder and pulled us both into a dimensional door. I stepped out right in front of Grimaldus, laying Rowan’s body down. “Do something!” I cried.
“Go ahead. Do it.” Filandrel’s voice was a quiet threat. “And then see what happens to your lover afterward…”
“You forgot about the fucking mace.” Grimaldus bit out, as his conjured, spectral mace flew from a distance and slammed into Filandrel’s back. He reeled with the blow, blood dripping down his robe.
Grimaldus then reached up into the air, shouting “Your job is not done, gnome!” And slammed his hand onto Rowan’s chest, sending a jolt of magic through her body.
He turned toward Filandrel then, advancing until they were nose to nose. “Care to repeat what you mentioned earlier?” He growled.
Rowan coughed and spluttered as breath returned to her body. She glanced back towards the building where the dragon was about to breathe again. He looked directly at her and taunted. “Go ahead. Choose which of your friends you want to die.” With a great effort, Rowan raised her hand and sealed the building’s entrance with a wall of stone. Then she transformed into an eagle and flew into the air.
Hasim dashed toward Filandrel, and by the time that I saw what was happening, it was too late. Hasim’s dagger pierced him in the back, and a growing red stain spread across his robes as he collapsed. No!
I turned to run to Filandrel, and the dragon materialized directly in my face, his mouth already open to breathe. The full force of his breath hit me from barely an arm’s length away. Excruciating pain wracked my body, as I tried to clear my mind enough to function. Looking around, I could see the effects of his breath… Grimaldus lay next to Filandrel’s body… unconscious or dead, I did not know. No! My mind and heart screamed in denial. Smoke was rising from his armor.
I threw a wall of force up, forming a dome around myself, Grimaldus, Filandrel and Hasim. Reaching down, I cradled the back of Grimaldus’ head and poured a healing potion past his charred lips, refusing to even consider the possibility that he wouldn’t wake.
Grimaldus opened his eyes and uttered a spell. His wounds began closing before my eyes, and I felt my own pain lessen. Looking over to Filandrel though, I could see his blood still pooling around him to soak into the ground. Grimaldus’ healing didn’t affect him at all. Then I glanced to Hasim, noticing the dagger clutched in his hand. No… it was the same dagger that the would-be assassin had plunged into Grimaldus’ grandmother… the cursed weapon that prevented all healing unless the curse was removed – and I didn’t even have to look at Grimaldus to know that he would refuse…
The dragon roared in anger against the invisible wall. Rowan was flying towards the throne. “I need to keep him busy, can you let me out?” Hasim asked, standing far too close to the barrier.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’d have to drop the whole thing.”
The dragon paused. “Keep him busy from what?”
Hasim started going off on the dragon, shouting that he never had a quarrel with him, as Hasim isn’t even an elf, and a veritable load of insults against the dragon’s honor for having betrayed us… apparently Hasim must have made some type of deal with him?
“I don’t do this out of a sense of justice. I don’t do this out of a sense of desire…” The dragon answered. “I do this because I hate you all…”
It would appear that Hasim held his attention, at least for the time being.
Filandrel was fading fast. I fell to my knees beside him, doing my best to pull him into my lap. “Tell me…” I begged.
“I was never his closest friend…” Filandrel’s voice was barely above a whisper, before his eyes closed in unconsciousness. No! Not like this… you don’t get to die here, now, like this… I gently wiped some of the blood from his face, and immediately let my consciousness go, falling into the Dream…
I found Filandrel standing next to a Well of Sorrows. Elvish statues surrounded the translucent pool, a wolf, a raven, and many other natural creatures. The full moon glistened on the water, bathing everything in a pale light.
“I have a feeling that we don’t have long.” Filandrel said, turning to look at me.
“No…” my voice cracked. “Why?”
“In time, you’ll come to understand.”
“You always say that and it…”
“Then let me be clear…” Filandrel said calmly. “Damian has a part to play. I did mine. In the time to come, you’ll see him as an enemy. See him as an enemy, you must.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“It is all part of the plan…” his voice was still calm, oddly so, I thought, given the circumstances.
“What plan?” I demanded.
“Damian is a pivotal piece to saving our people, and to saving this world.” Filandrel replied.
“How?” Why were we even talking about Damian right now? I wanted to talk about Filandrel… I don’t even know what I wanted, to be honest.
“In Kamadan, the creature beneath… whatever may happen, we have found a way to commune with it…”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped, my voice raising.
“She has been waiting for a long time. And he has a way, we have a way, of saving everyone. But the dragon, the betrayer must not know. If the betrayer knows, we all die.”
“What do you mean, we…” I started to ask.
“All of the elves. We all die.” Filandrel cut in harshly. “He kills us all. That’s how that ends! But if Damian plays the enemy, if Damian wages the war just right, if just enough elves die, we save the rest of us.” His gaze felt like it was burning a hole into my own. “Do you understand what I am saying?!”
“Kill thousands,” he continued after a brief moment, “to save hundreds of thousands.”
“Just like you did with the Wells?” My voice broke.
“I did what I had to…” he defended.
“What did you do exactly?” I asked, fighting back tears. “As you said, we don’t have much time!”
“The Queen was on her way…” Filandrel explained. “I left half, half of those who went to face her, I left them at the other side. And when she comes for us, I see them… every time. Different ones, faces I recognize… their hearts ripped out, replaced by the hearts of stags. She mocks us with them, parades their corpses in front of us.” Filandrel paused, looking at me intently. “We have to remove this world away from the spheres. It’s the only way… by communing with her.”
“And won’t that be worse?” I asked sadly.
“No…”
“How do you know?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You fucking killed… you trapped me in a cage and fucking killed –“
“To save your life!” He shouted at me.
“You killed one of the most genuinely good people I’ve ever met!” I shouted back.
“And you’re going to see hundreds of good people die!”
“I already have.” My voice sounded broken, even to me.
“This doesn’t end. This never ends!” Filandrel visibly focused on calming himself.
I took a few deep breaths, then asked. “What was your actual relationship with the axiomyte?”
“He was my brother.” Filandrel answered quickly.
“Wait… what?”
“He was my brother. He was all I had left. I lost my wife in that battle at the other side of that rift to the Wells. I saw my son be torn apart by imperial dogs… their hounds ripping him to pieces! And so I took every child in their city from them, to make them feel the pain that I felt.”
“And that’s what your falling out was?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“You murdered children, because you lost your own?” I could barely believe my own ears. “Children… Filandrel.”
“Yes. I can’t undo what I did. We live with it.” His eyes showed remorse, even if his voice did not.
“So what now?” I asked sadly.
“See Damian as your enemy. It’s the only way. He knows and he will know that you know. And together, you will share that painful secret, as you watch hundreds die for no reason, for nothing. And it will be all your fault. And it will be all his fault. And you will do it in order to save everyone.”
“Is this what you’ve been setting me up for, my whole fucking life?” I demanded.
“No. But it’s what the circumstances have become…”
Filandrel’s body began to fade, the dream collapsing around us…
“Give me a guess as to what his word would be?” I asked through my tears.
“I think it’s at the bottom of the throne… the Prince probably knows it. It will get you close to him, the knowledge of the axiomyte. If you choose to play this role in order to save our people, get close to the Prince. My body… present it to him. Let him know that you killed me.”
“What?” I cried out.
“Tell him that you killed me!” Filandrel insisted. “And then… make Damian your enemy. Make him hate you, if you have to. He’ll know”
“He already does.” I admitted.
“No…” Filandrel lectured. “He’s playing a part.”
“He sure as fuck fooled me.” I spat bitterly.
“Did you try seeing through his lies?” Filandrel asked.
“Obviously…” I looked pointedly at my former master. “Obviously I’ve never been very good at that, have I?”
Filandrel’s body began to dissipate and fade. “I think it’s time to say farewell…” his voice faded with his body.
“Anything else I should know?” I called, grasping desperately, futilely, for just one more minute, one more question.
Filandrel vanished then, dissipating into nothingness, a slight smile on his face.
I woke up, my tears mixing with Filandrel’s blood, as I knelt there, cradling his body in my lap. My master was gone. Filandrel’s silver-streaked dark brown hair was gone, replaced with his true form’s white-blond hair that, aside from the blood staining it red, looked so similar to the axiomyte’s. His face too had transformed, the jagged scar running down his face and across his neck. Even his blue robes had given way to the white and silver runes of his robe of the arch-magi.
This was his true face… the one that I had never known.
I looked around. Inira was floating around as mist, trying to get through the wall of force and to her coffin. The dragon was focused on the ridge above us, where I could see Secilia encased in what looked like a block of ice. The dragon seemed to be just waiting for an opportunity to kill her once the spell effect wore off.
The more I looked, the more helpless I felt. Finally, I took a deep breath and began putting on Filandrel’s things piece by piece. I donned his bloody robe, and picked up his staff. Emotions threatened to rise to the surface, along with more tears, but I pushed it all down, deep into myself where I could lock it away to be dealt with later. Now was not the time.
Hasim looked over at me. “If we don’t do something right now, Secilia dies.”
“If I drop the wall,” I replied numbly. “We all die.”
“If you drop it.” Hasim said. “I can keep it occupied, while you spread out and figure out what else to do.”
“Don’t drop it.” Grimaldus stated with conviction.
“Okay.” My voice sounded like it was someone else’s.
The dragon looked around then, at all of us individually. “Where’s the gnome?” His question rumbled in the air.
“Dead.” Grimaldus replied.
“You fucking killed her, you asshole.” Hasim spat. “She’s dead.”
“No…” the dragon replied. “No… no no!” He turned and rushed back toward the throne, vanishing into thin air as he obviously teleported straight into the throne room.
Oh fuck. No!
I dropped the wall, and we all charged in the dragon’s wake. As we drew near, I could see Rowan sitting on the throne, a look of intense concentration on her face. Alucard standing between her and the dragon, facing off against his old friend. The dragon grabbed him and threw his body to the ground, where Alucard lay, motionless.
Grabbing hold of Grimaldus’ shoulder, I pulled us through a dimensional door to appear right in front of the dragon, taking Alucard’s place shielding Rowan.
Grimaldus healed Alucard, and I stood there, feeling as though I was staring death in the face, as the dragon clawed a bloody gash across Grimaldus’ chest.
I turned to check on Rowan, and saw that she had vanished, disappeared somewhere. The dragon began to dissipate, as though he was banished. The desiccated remains of the great tree began to sprout new life and grow before our eyes. Earthquakes shook the desert, and I could feel living nature coming back, plants and trees sprouting to new life amongst the ruins. The dragon grasped desperately at himself and his surroundings, before disappearing entirely. A massive crack appeared on the throne, sundering it in two. The salt statues of those who had failed in years past crumbled into dust. The dragons in the skies let out great roars as they, too, disappeared.
Everything went quiet. Inira’s mist came swirling around me. For a moment, I was tempted to keep my bag holding her coffin sealed, but in the end, I decided that I wouldn’t betray her like that – even though she was no longer the Inira whom I called friend.
I looked around. There was no sign of Rowan, no hint in the room that she had ever even been here… except for the new life sprouting in the ancient desiccated tree… She succeeded… she actually did it. But at what cost? Even before I asked myself the question, I knew… the price she paid was everything. Her life, in exchange for the world. I don’t know if I would have been able to make the same decision… I’d like to think that I would, but I honestly don’t know… I don’t know if I can be that good.
“What happened?” Hasim ran up.
“She used the throne.” I told him softly.
“Did it work?”
“Did you not see the dragons disappear?” I asked. “Do you not feel nature coming back?” As I said that, I felt and indescribable loneliness, as though something was gone from the world that had been here before… I suppose we will have to wait and see what the repercussions of her choice are…
“Is she gone, or is she a god now?” Hasim asked, confused. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I told him truthfully. All I know is that she’s gone.
“Grimaldus, you’ve talked to the gods before…” Hasim started desperately. “I’ve seen you do it to Shard. Can you try to talk to her?”
Grimaldus shook his head. “Only divine intervention can do that.”
“Is she a goddess now?” I asked, a tiny beacon of hope rising in my chest.
“No.” Grimaldus crushed that burgeoning hope with a single word. “She destroyed herself to use the throne.”
“Then she is a saint.” Hasim replied.
“Yes.” Grimaldus confirmed.
I felt empty as we left the city… I carried Filandrel’s body on a floating disk, needing to bring him back to Alcarin at least. There is much yet that I must do… but for that evening, I joined in the celebrations after a fashion.
The Charbelly dwarves hosted a massive celebration in honor of the victory. In customary dwarven fashion, they also took the opportunity to honor the dead. I joined them, pouring two drinks into the ground… one for Rowan, and one for Filandrel (although he would likely abhor the practice). Then, I drank with them far into the night. I can count on one hand the times that I’ve drunk with dwarves… and it always ends up with me drowning in ale… I didn’t even try to moderate myself this time, I wanted the numbness to overtake my sorrow, if only for a moment.
Paragon Cindy and Setinder came over, bearing Karkhadon’s weapons, and began arguing over who should keep them as trophies. Hasim said something about them being treasures of his people, so they gave them to him, before Cindy looked around and asked “Where’s the little one?”
Curse my decision to drink this night, for the ale loosened enough of my inhibitions that at the mere mention of Rowan, tears spilled down my cheeks as I shook my head.
“Oh…” the dwarf said solemnly.
“She used the throne,” Hasim explained. “And healed the trees, and sent all the dragons away, and… I don’t fucking know…”
Grimaldus walked away, heading purposefully towards the bards, who he conversed with for several minutes.
I ignored them all, trying to drown myself in another dwarven ale, dashing my welling tears when they threatened to fall.
As the night wore on, I looked around at my companions. As odd a group as we were, they had become important to me… and I didn’t know if I would ever see them again. Just in case, I passed out scrolls of sending, with the instruction that if they ever need to contact me, all they have to do is send a message and I’ll do my best.
Hasim asked about the dragon’s hoard, which Priscilla ended up revealing was hidden in the tree – that is now restored to life. Hogar chimed in, saying that he basically had a harder fight than we had, and lost two golems, therefore was entitled to a larger share. Honestly, I didn’t care about the share of the dragon’s hoard, but I was drunk, and his arrogant words angered me. “Would you have preferred to duel Filandrel amid the fight with the Decimator of Cities?” I snapped.
“Yeah, sorry about your old man.” He said placatingly. “How’d you do it? How’d you win?” He asked.
I just stared at him, unable to formulate a proper response… that is something that I will unpack and deal with at a later time… not something I was prepared for that night…
“There, there.” Cindy said, passing me another ale. “Keep drinking.”
And I did…
Much of the rest of the night was a blur. At some point, I was thinking about the sending scrolls that I’d handed out, and then remembered that I needed to let Ravlor know that I survived. If I had been in my right mind, I would likely have waited until morning, but I didn’t.
Late in the night, Grimaldus and I left the celebration. “You know,” Grimaldus said. “With your newfound rank and station, and having inherited all of his things, there will be people trying to pull you to their side…”
“They already are.” Well, the Prince is, but that’s kind of beside the point…
“I spoke to Shard…” Grimaldus said gravely.
“Okay. What did he say?” Not something else already…
“He told me I should eventually challenge him, which sounds like a decent end to my life, to be honest. But first, he mentioned something I hadn’t thought of… he told me to live my life.”
“I thought that’s what you were doing.” I was confused, although it might have been the ale.
“I’ve been chasing monster after monster after monster with this,” he held up his mace, still glowing disconcertingly. “So I think I’ll holding onto this for a while. But there is something a little more important first…”
“What?”
“Marry me.”
Wait… what? “Are you serious?” I asked incredulously.
“Plus, whenever he dies, we can just remarry, right?” Meriwald chimed in from his perch on my shoulder. I shushed him, and Grimaldus pinched his beak shut, effectively muffling most of his commentary.
“You’ll have to come with me to Alcarin…” I said hesitantly, unsure if Grimaldus fully understood that I will be going back to Alcarin for what is likely going to be a long time.
“I was planning on it.” He stated matter-of-factly.
“Okay.” I nodded.
So, I suppose that means that I’m betrothed now… I will take some time to process everything later, this included, but right now, I need to rest. Hopefully there will be no dreams this night…
Fort Mahogany
12th of Camince, 1485
12th of Camince, 1485
Inira, Alucard, Hogar and myself teleported outside Charbelly Hall to seek an audience with Paragon Cindy. The walls rise up over four hundred feet high. A few dwarven guards rode up on goats, asking us to state our business.
I told them that we came seeking an audience with Paragon Cindy. They bade us to their goats, and we rode into the city. We were granted an audience atop the wall. I must admit, this wall is an impressive construction… I can see why the dwarves are so proud of it.
As we waited, I could hear some dwarves from the dark quarter below making comments about me, but I chose to ignore them… I had more important reasons for being there than putting a few rude dwarves in their place. There was an older mason sitting against the wall, in tears. Looking across the wall, I could see that it would take longer for Cindy to make her way over to us, so I went over to the emotional dwarf.
“What is wrong?” I asked.
“Magic happened on the wall!” He wailed. I could see that the portion of wall he was pointing at bore the telltale signs of magic. I dispelled the magic effect and the section of wall crumbled. Oh shit. I thought I’d made some grave mistake, but the dwarf looked at me and smiled, saying “Ahh… the elves are useful after all… thank you! Thank you master wizard! We can now rebuild this section with the soul that it needs.”
“What was wrong with it?” I asked incredulously.
“Magic takes soul from the wall. The wall is sacred. It must not be tainted by magic.”
A chorus of “Praise the wall” rose up from surrounding dwarves.
As I walked away, I told him to speak of this to no one, and hail the wall.
Paragon Cindy arrived and immediately smashed her forehead into Hogar’s face as some form of strange greeting. Cindy wore full adamantine plate armor. She asked who we are, and we introduced ourselves. She asked where Dekar was, and Inira told her of his death. “You don’t seem sad.” Cindy observed. “You must not have loved him very much.”
Inira shrugged it off… another disconcerting reaction from her. Rather, her lack of reaction to any mention of Dekar is unsettling…
I stepped forward, asking if Cindy was familiar with Garrick Irongut. She nodded, saying that he was decent, for a Boatmurdered dwarf. “How’s he doing?” She asked, before pausing… “oh, he’s dead too.”
I nodded, then pulled his hammer from my belt. I held it out to her, “this should be with his people,” I said. “I can never wield it.”
Cindy shook her head. “Dear friend, you are his people.”
I could feel the back of my eyes burning with threatened tears.
She offered her help in dealing with the dragon’s servants. If we give her two days to prepare, she will bring an army of Charbelly dwarves to assist in our fight.
We teleported out, meeting up with the others outside the main gates of the Nameless City. Alucard conjured his mansion again, and Vignir did the same.
As I sat down to write this and hopefully sink into my meditation, Hasim approached me, asking for me to teach him how to meditate for the evening. I explained it to him as best as I could, but he doesn’t speak Elvish… however, he caught on surprisingly well. Apparently he was trained to meditate in the fashion of humans from a young age. I need to teach him Elvish… I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to tolerate looking at him and seeing the axiomyte’s body, while he is so blatantly disrespecting it with his unwillingness to even try to learn our language – the language that the axiomyte spoke in life…
Oh fuck! Secilia ran off, the idiot. She took off into the city and is likely heading straight for the throne – and all of the danger that surrounds it.
The Council
11th of Camince, 1485
11th of Camince, 1485
I am writing this down in the event that I do not survive these next few days. I hope that these papers will not become lost, but if they do… then it is what it is…
My companions accompanied me to the council meeting in Crassard today. Filandrel invited me to take a seat at the council, to “see what he deals with”. Grimaldus and Hasim took the baby to Shard’s realm, to be looked after by Grimaldus’ grandmother and cousin. I still cannot get used to the sight of Hasim in the axiomyte’s body. It is a sacrilege on the body of one of the oldest of the Elves… and Hasim refuses to even learn elementary Elvish! I offered to teach him and he refused, saying it isn’t important. Does he not understand just how important it is? I don’t think he fully grasps the gravity of just whose body he is not occupying. I understand that it must be traumatic to have your soul wrenched out of the Fugue and shoved into a body not your own – much less one of a different race. I couldn’t imagine the strain of it, but, he chose to accept the reincarnation… the least that he can do is learn a bit about the culture and ways of the Elves, seeing as he’s in the body of one of our oldest and greatest artisans.
But, I digress… I need to focus on the events of the matter at hand – just in case I don’t come out of this alive, it would be nice if this could find its way to someone who can use the information to stop the dragon.
The teleportation coordinates took us to the top of Vlatrossi Melkinov’s tower. When we entered the chamber, I could see nearly twenty seats set out around a table… a few were occupied, but many more were noticeably vacant.
Filandrel and Vlatrossi were both already seated. I took one of the empty seats near Filandrel, as he motioned. More individuals arrived, the vampire Ana Bathory, who immediately glared daggers at Inira. Hogar, looking much the worse for wear. Vignir was there as well. Priscilla Tringles arrived, looking greatly bothered.
Rowan took a seat across from the one meant for Cojisto, that will forever remain empty.
Everyone began arguing nearly immediately about what to do about the dragon. Vlatrossi insisted that the dragon must remain alive, but what he fails to understand is that it would be too dangerous – even if locked into a harmless demiplane, the dragon will eventually escape. The vampire Ana Bathory insisted that the dragon doesn’t matter – it is the fingers of the black one that we need to be concerned with.
Inira immediately started a pissing match with the vampire, which I promptly ignored, waiting for something more important…
We came to the agreement that because the undead curse is tied to the violence in the world, and there is no real way that anyone will truly end all violence, the undead curse will continue into perpetuity.
The feathered woman arrived, taking a seat. Inira spoke up “She’s in league with the black one. She shouldn’t be here.”
“Hello to you too.” The Feathered Woman replied calmly.
Inira told her to go away, calling her a bitch. While, I cannot disagree with Inira’s sentiment, does she always have to be so rash and uncouth about it? I, for one, have no desire to tangle spells with the feathered woman… especially not with the knowledge that it was she who killed the axiomyte… which Inira also blurted out. Idiot!
I could feel the tension rise in the room, as Filandrel and the feathered woman made eye contact. Looking at Filandrel, she said “You can see why it is unsafe for me to be here, which is why you are speaking to a projection…”
Inira kept telling her that she wasn’t welcome and should leave. I wanted nothing more than to make Inira be quiet.
“Why did you do it?” I asked the projection.
“I will have to admit that my goals are selfish, but necessary.” She replied.
“Why?” I prompted.
She admitted that the axiomyte had knowledge that he was unwilling to share with her. “There’s a war coming. One that I cannot stop this time. A horrible one. As the last time we had such a war… I wasn’t so terribly alone…”
“You didn’t seem very alone when you were with the yellow eyed man…” Inira butted in harshly.
“You were in love once, weren’t you?” The feathered woman asked.
Inira said that she doesn’t care about love, she cares about the feathered woman being in league with one of the greatest evils in the world.
But the projection shook her head. “Have you understood the difference between being alone and loneliness? Do you know what that is?”
“Save me your sob stories.” Inira snapped. “I don’t want to hear them. Get out.” Whatever possessed Inira to think that she was in control of the proceedings is something that I do not understand. I wished that she would just shut her mouth and keep quiet, so that we could learn whatever information there was to be gained from the situation…
“Why would you do it?” I asked quietly.
“The wind. The people. Their carts.” The feathered woman said, her projection making eye contact with Filandrel. “You’ll grow tired of them. Their noise, their sound will grow to annoy you. Eventually you’ll need to drown it out however you can. Unless of course, you’ve already experienced this… you’ll meet someone… one thing that makes it have meaning. And then, that loneliness, that feeling of being alone that could not be consulated by anyone, no matter how much they loved you, it fills a space you didn’t even know existed…” she continued glaring daggers at Filandrel. “And then they’re ripped from you.”
She turned then and looked to me. “I can see it in your eyes, girl. It’s going to happen to you.”
Inira tried to cut her off, but she continued. “I want the throne. If any of you stand in my way, I will see you as enemies.”
I asked her why, why would she want the throne so badly? Ultimately, she admitted that she wants to bring her dead lover back to life. She doesn’t care how vast the destruction wrecked is, all she cares about is bringing Tacitus back to life.
She said that she killed the axiomyte because he wouldn’t tell her the information that she sought. “He was jealous, I think.”
I glanced over at Filandrel and could see anger building like storm clouds on his face. He was pissed. It makes me curious as to what is actually the history with those three, well, four, now that I know about her relationship with Gaius’ ancestor, Tacitus… I will have to ask Filandrel about it later.
Arguing erupted around the table, with Inira and the Feathered Woman at the center of it. As if I needed a reminder of what Inira gave up when she took the blood kiss, she was so cold, cruel even, when she spoke, no, taunted, the Feathered Woman with her loss.
“Inira, stop…” I couldn’t take it anymore. So much of what the Feathered Woman was saying was coming a bit too close to my own fears. Am I setting myself up for a similar future with my relationship with Grimaldus? The loneliness for centuries?
A scant minute later, the apparition disappeared.
Everyone argued about whether to kill the dragon or not. We were interrupted by a pool of blood appearing on the floor next to the table. Slowly, the blood began to take shape, and Grimaldus and Hasim stepped out of the pool.
Grimaldus looked around the room and announced “Shard says kill the dragon.” It prompted an entirely new round of arguments.
“I think that the creature should die.” Filandrel said, cutting through the squabbles. His gaze was drawn to Hasim, looking at him for a moment, before dropping his gaze to the table.
Filandrel looked over at me. “It was necessary to do that?” I could almost hear betrayal in his voice. “To his body?”
“It was his choice.” I said, trying to explain that was the option we had to bring Hasim back, without making the situation worse.
“Your friend’s.” Filandrel said quietly.
“I’m sorry…” My heart was breaking at the look on his face. “I’m sorry…”
Filandrel straightened up. “I don’t wish to take part in this meeting anymore. Goodbye.” He teleported out, taking a piece of my heart with him.
I didn’t pay close attention to the rest of the meeting. Filandrel’s departure seemed to herald its end anyways.
We decided to try to get Paragon Cindy from Fort Mahogany to help us with the dragon, as well as some of the others who she travelled with. According to Vignir, if we can gain her aid, there is a chance that Shard might intervene in order to prevent his old friends from dying. A smart move I suppose, but my mind was admittedly elsewhere, mostly weighed down with guilt because of Filandrel’s single expression when his eyes met mine after Hasim’s arrival…
I did send a message to Damian at the end of the day. I told him about the dragon in the east, and that “Dekar is dead. Thought you might want to know, even if you don’t care.”
A few minutes later, I received Damian’s response. “I’ll be in contact.” Fuck him! Fuck him and his lack of caring.
Letter to Ravlor
11th of Camince, 1485
**Written in Elvish, translated version here.**
Dear Ravlor,
I hope this letter, and the contents of this box, find you alive and well. Before you lose it on me, I am not dead, nor do I have any intention of becoming so. This is merely a precaution, the best one that I can think of at the moment.
The situation that I’m about to walk into carries an unknown amount of danger, but it is likely dire… as seems to be our way, does it not? I’m entrusting you with these journals in case the worst should happen. They contain my recordings of everything that has transpired since we lost Garrick in Latria last year. I have compiled all of my research, as well as my observations, thoughts and journeys since then. I do not want them to be lost to the sands should I perish, or even worse, to fall into the wrong hands… hence, why I am entrusting them to yours.
I will be in contact with you within the next few weeks, depending on how everything plays out… if you do not hear from me by the end of Clavifae, then please know that something has happened and I am most certainly dead. If this happens, please ensure that my writings are delivered to a trustworthy, reliable place where the knowledge that I have gathered will be preserved. And please… please tell my parents that I love them…
At first, I thought to send this box to my father, because it could sit in the far reaches of his workshop, or be buried in the gardens until such a time that it would be safe to retrieve them. But… I didn’t want to do that to them again… based on what happened during the war, they would assume the worst; and I really do not want to return home to discover my father carving me another coffin, stained with his tears.
I regret that we were unable to converse at length when I saw you last – something that we must rectify when this is all over. If this is ever over… I must admit, that sometimes it feels like I’m caught in a web, and there is a monstrous spider plucking at the threads and tightening the web around us all. What will happen when we reach the center? I don’t know, but I am rambling, trying to avoid writing what I actually need to write…
I am sorry. You asked me what it is that I’m seeking in the east, and the answer for the longest time has been that I was needing to get away from everything for a while. But now, it seems as though the situation here is even more immediately dire than the one facing our people at home right now. I know you will likely disagree, but Ravlor… I’ve seen the devastation firsthand that this dragon is wreaking… and there is some bigger plot at work. I can feel it.
I’m not going to go into much specific detail, because the last thing I want to do is to ever put you in more danger… but please watch yourself. Watch your back, and Doodles’ too. I don’t know if you remember what I told you about the professors I had trouble with in Egig Ero Fa when I was young… but we ran into one of them. He was in league with a giant snake (Megatsushi or something like that is what Kent called it), and was planning on sacrificing Hasim’s young baby to the creature. Honestly, with how Berthold was in the academy, I’m not surprised. But what was bad is that he arrived using your appearance. He moved like you, looked like you, but obviously cannot sound like you. The issues that I had with him were long before we met… so obviously someone has been feeding him information. So please be careful…
I spoke with Filandrel recently… I know… I can almost hear what you are probably saying right now. I am being careful. I didn’t want to speak with him, not really… but the situation we’re in right now is dire, and we, frankly, need all of the help that we can get… and he is very powerful, obviously. I’ve only been speaking with him in the Dream though, on my terms. I don’t know if he is manipulating me or not, but he isn’t telling me what to do anymore… in fact, his guidance has largely been to do what must be done to preserve our people, yes; but ultimately, to do what I feel is right, and he said I will have his blessing no matter which path I choose.
Before you start ranting… no… I don’t fully believe him. I don’t think I ever will again. But for right now… his knowledge is greatly needed. I’m expecting a message from him shortly, at some point today at least… apparently there is a meeting of a great many magic users, Filandrel, Vlatrossi, Priscilla Tringles the druid, and others to be held later today. I have been invited to attend, with my companions if they so desire. That is one of the main reasons also that I am sending you these journals… I have a feeling that if he knew about the,, that Filandrel would likely want them, or at least, want to read them. And, while I would not begrudge you reading anything that I’ve written, I do not trust the circle that I’m about to enter this afternoon…
You asked me back in Alcarin, what it is that I am seeking in the East. I did not have an answer for you then, but I have been thinking on it. (I told you that I always think about what you say…)
I initially came to the east seeking a respite from the politics surrounding Alcarin, and the nightmares. I thought that a change of scenery might help. Then, after I arrived here and travelled around a bit, I realized, that for all of their oddities, many people are the same no matter where you live, both for the good and the bad.
I thought that I was seeking love, which I have found, in a fashion, but now I’m beginning to have doubts as to whether it will actually worth it in the long run. I'm afraid of fully going down a path that I know will ultimately end in pain. Also, I fear that in the end, we have some opposing ideas that may put us at irreconcilable odds. I don’t know. I shouldn't burden you with this, I have no wish to drudge up your own memories about your own past... I shouldn't have said anything.
I feel on edge, as though the entire party is standing on a precipice, from which there is no going back… and I don't know where I fit into all of this.
We lost Dekar, as I told you… but I didn’t get a chance to tell you about Inira. She willingly sought out, and has been granted the “blood kiss” from her god, the Blood Lord. She doesn’t seem to realize that she has done something horribly wrong, that will turn her into a mockery of who she once was. Don’t get me wrong… I never liked her methods for many things, her practice of necromancy seeps into everything that she does. But, there is a far cry from being a necromancer and becoming a vampire. Nobody else seems terribly bothered by it, and that in and of itself is concerning to me…
Damian is another who seems to be going down a dark path. I won’t burden you with too many details, but please trust me on this. Please, Ravlor, stay as far away from him as you can… I fear that his father’s hatred of our people has poisoned his mind, and I do not know to what extent he is willing to take his hate. I don’t know if it is just directed at Elves in general, or if it extends to those of us who were his friends. Even Meriwald has warned me from him... Either way, please, Ravlor… please stay as far away from him as you can…
Now though, since learning some of the things that I’ve learned in the past several weeks, think that I may be able to do a greater service for our people… maybe that is what I’ve sought all along. There is a place here in the east, an ancient ruin of blue marble that sits next to a river, in a gently wooded area. If worse comes to worse… I think we should start a new community there. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t wish to abandon the Alcarin woods to the hands of the dragon and the humans, but I would rather carve out a new home for our people than see them perish in the wanton destruction that is inevitable should this course of events not be changed.
I must go now. I am sorry to be putting this on you, and I’m sorry that this is in a letter instead of in person. I hope to see you again soon. Don’t tell Doodles.
Now, I owe you one. ;)
With love,
Inara
Hasim, the Axiomyte, and Filandrel
10th of Camince, 1485
10th of Camince, 1485
Well, I did finally manage to sink into my meditation and find some rest.
As soon as I awakened, the first thing that I saw was the axiomyte’s body. I found Meriwald pacing around and staring nervously at Hasim’s baby. “Is he going to wake up?” He asked, rather frantically.
It took me a minute to realize that it wasn’t just Meriwald freaking out, rather, he was feeding off my own anxiety. I shushed him, admitting I didn’t know, but telling him to be quiet just in case.
Before I fell into my meditation last night, I contacted Filandrel with a sending spell. “What the fuck is going on? What did you do?”
A few moments later, I received his reply. “It appears Melkinov has tricked you. Your wish has lifted the curse from the entire city. Now, many are racing for that throne. The dragon is defending what he believes is his.” He then cast a spell of his own, answering my question in his usual vague manner. “I did what was necessary. The question is… will you make the choice to save our people or will you let this opportunity be taken from you?”
I reached out to Ravlor as well, basically telling him that everything is going to shit, and asking him to be safe and not get himself killed. But, he didn’t reply for some time. When he finally did, he said “We’re safe. Don’t worry about me. Try not to die.” Typical Ravlor… I have no intention of dying though.
I asked Meriwald what he thinks of this whole situation. He just looked at me sadly and said that he wants to go home.
“Me too.” Home… something that seems to be slipping a bit further away with every day.
“But we can’t go home.” His little voice was heavy with sorrow.
“Why not?”
“Look…” he cocked his head toward Hasim’s body and that of the axiomyte. “Look at all the dead people. We can’t go home.”
“We might die.” I stared at him intently, to make sure that he was actually paying attention to what I was saying. “You might actually die, for real.” I don’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself.
“Yeah… cause when I look at that baby.” Hasim’s son was still sleeping peacefully. “How many babies are there? A lot of old people too… so we have to.”
I don’t know why I needed to hear that confirmation from him, but I did… otherwise the pull to return to Alcarin would have probably been too strong.
I nodded. “Meriwald…” he glanced over at me. “I have to talk to him…”
“Oh no… here we go again…” He already knew what I was going to do, without me even having to fully tell him.
“Watch my back.” I chastised as I began to sink into the trance that meeting in the Dream requires.
Filandrel Dream
I closed my eyes and found myself in the gardens of Egig Ero Fa… except they were all burning. Filandrel was seated not far from me, drinking tea.
“Is the burning from you or from me?” He asked implacably, as soon as I appeared.
I fought down my rising anxiety and anger. “What the fuck?” I bit out. “I don’t know. This isn’t where I was planning on going.”
“No…” he replied. “Things rarely end up as you plan.”
“What did you do?“ I demanded.
“I did what I had to do.” His tone was calm as always.
“Define that.” I insisted.
“Depends… no doubt you came with questions… it’s usually how we open up our conversations, isn’t it? Go ahead, ask away. Ask what you need to ask.”
“Did you try to kill the baby?” I demanded.
Filandrel spoke without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the child is cursed.” He stated.
“She is a child!” I nearly shouted.
“She’s cursed!” Filandrel’s reply was a bit heated, but he quickly elaborated. “The princess, through the blood of Baba Yaga, she is corrupted. That child is destined to bring ruin to our kingdom. If she’s allowed to live, we lose our people. I am choosing our people over one child.”
“How do you know that? The way it looks right now, we’re kind of losing our kingdom and people as it stands!”
“Baba Yaga’s curse is inexorable. You can’t escape it!” He interrupted. “It is born of our own Intoners.”
“How so?” That’s a theory I’ve never heard elaborated.
“Because Baba Yaga was one once, and then she died… the Queen of Air and Darkness made sure of that. She was all we had left.”
“So you tried to kill a baby…”
“I tried to kill a child to save hundreds of thousands…”
“How can you kn…?”
“Because I know.” He insisted. “Bear witness to the events in the east, to the rise of that emperor. All due to Baba Yaga’s curse. All due to one witch who began a series of events that led to him.”
Filandrel paused for a moment, before shifting into his professor tone, sounding much the same as he had in his lectures during my time at Egig Ero Fa.
“In the empire, Gaius of Astoria… his consort, who escaped everyone’s grasp, brought ruin to the Empire. They can’t help it. It is the curse. Every child, every daughter of Baba Yaga is destined to bring ruin to whatever kingdom she is born into. I don’t need further evidence. I know.”
“Then why don’t we just make a new kingdom?” I asked (consciously forcing myself not to bring up Grimaldus’ suggestion regarding the ruins in the east). “If she is born into this one… obviously, looking around, the burning of Egig Ero Fa, and the dragon in Runestone and everything going on,” I ranted. “Looking around, apparently it is quite likely that Alcarin isn’t going to be the same kingdom that it always was…”
“No. You’re right.” Filandrel sounded defeated. “I was hoping to retain what we had, save us time, for as long as we could. I failed.” He seemed far more agitated than I’ve ever seen him before. “They haven’t targeted you?” He asked. “The prince? His wrath is far reaching.”
“I don’t know…” I admitted.
“Then that means that he may offer you station, but he is not one to let someone live and be.”
“Why?”
“Because he will want to keep you close, make sure you’re not an enemy. Also, as of this moment, you’re likely the second most capable wizard in the entirety of Egig Ero Fa. Congratulations.” His irony wasn’t lost on me.
“Another question…” I said, changing the subject. “Long ago, you told me you would handle it when I came to you about…”
“Your professor.” Filandrel finished with a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me!” I admonished.
“It was handled.” He explained. “I gave him station outside Egig Ero Fa, took him as far away from the Elves as possible, where he could still be useful. He was an expert in ancient mysteries. He gave us a lot of useful research, actually. Why?” He asked. “Why do you ask about him?”
“He’s dead.” I stated.
“Because of you? Or one of your companions?” I vividly recalled the moment when Alucard’s sword impaled him, but avoided mentioning it, lest some wrath potentially fall on the heads of my companions.
“He’s dead.” I repeated dispassionately.
“If he turned against you, then likely your goals are in opposition. Now if your question is whether or not he was working for me, the answer is no. He reported to me, but solely about his research.”
“What did you report to him?” I asked skeptically.
“Typically he would ask for supplies, resources, scrolls…” Filandrel explained.
“What did you tell him about me?” I asked, unable to keep the accusation out of my voice.
“Not much at all, if that’s really what your question is.” His gaze swept over my face. “But you wouldn’t really believe that, would you? I can see it in your eyes. You’ve never been a good liar like that… it’s admirable, really. Lying usually comes naturally to Elves, as we get older.”
“He showed up in Ravlor’s form!” I blurted out.
“Somebody told him about Ravlor then.” Filandrel mused.
“Did you?”
“No.” Filandrel stated implacably.
“He knew way too much.” I insisted.
“Then somebody’s been talking to him.” Filandrel confirmed. “Whether or not you believe that it wasn’t me is up to you.”
“Who have you been talking to?” I asked.
“I recently spoke with Melkinov about the removal of the curse in the great city… that is problematic. It’s short sighted. It may give you access to the city, but it also means that anyone with a vested interest in that throne, and that dragon, will be racing for it.”
“Do you have a vested interest in that dragon?” I asked.
“I have a vested interest in that throne.” Filandrel said, confirming some of my worst suspicions.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it’s the only thing that can save our people…” his voice was heavy with conviction. “That throne was meant for Orpheus. It was kept for him, and the Decimator of Cities decimated that city to make sure that no one else touched it. Afterwards, he was imprisoned by the gods for siding with Orpheus. The dragon’s name is Amaritmanyu. It’s younger sibling, you’ve likely met by now.”
At my questioning look, he elaborated. “There are two of them… the great wyrm and his younger brother. They both escaped from the trees decades ago. The older the dragon, the more likely they are to leave their prisons, after all.”
“So what is your plan?” I asked.
Filandrel shook his head. “I don’t have one… as much as I’m interested in the throne…”
I laughed aloud. “You don’t have one?”
“In regards to the dragon?” Filandrel snapped. “No. But if you want a seat at the table, then by all means… sit with us. Then you can see what I deal with every time.”
“What do you mean, a seat at the table?” I asked… this was the first time I’ve heard anything of the sort mentioned.
“I was supposed to meet with Vlatrossi Melkinov and a few others. We’re meant to talk about what to do about the dragon.”
“When?” I asked.
“Soon. I recently received notice that Wei Jang has fallen to the dragon, completely this time… which means that it will take more than just a few powerful wizards to defeat it… a few powerful wizards tried… I don’t know who’s dead or who’s alive yet.” He admitted.
“I do.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“The axiomyte…”
“He’s dead?” Filandrel asked.
“Did you know?”
“No.” He shook his head, showing more genuine sorrow than I’m used to seeing on his face.
“How come? You always seem to know everything.”
“Contrary to what you believe, I am not all-seeing.”
“I didn’t say that.” I snapped defensively.
“But you act like it.” Filandrel gave me a wry, sad smile. “It’s flattering, but pretty soon you’re going to have to grow up. You’ll understand that we are all flawed in different ways. You may find it disappointing…”
“What’s your plan now? No doubt you have some type of plan… you always do.”
“I’m forming one…” I replied.
“You seem bothered by it.”
“Of course I’m bothered by it!” I snapped. “What do you think I should do? You’re so very fond of plans.”
“I think you should follow what you think is right. At the end of it all, no one is going to know the circumstances but you. You intend to kill this beast? You intend to take that throne? Or do you intend to follow your comrades to the end and then see what happens? Some of their goals may not align with yours… some of their goals may put you in danger…” There was no mistaking the note of warning in Filandrel’s voice.
“What is life without danger?” I said, rather flippantly.
“Now you sound like someone I met once…”
“Who?”
“The axiomyte.” Filandrel’s tone matched the solemness of his face.
“Did you know he was there?”
“No. We had lost touch a very long time ago and we made sure we could never find each other. But we had an idea… we always did.” Filandrel said with a faraway look in his eyes.
“Why make sure you could never find each other?”
“We had a falling out. Our methods… they differed.” He explained cautiously.
“Were his more upfront than yours?”
“His are more dangerous than mine.” There it was again, a warning in his tone.
“Are you lying to me?” I asked.
“No. But you’ll have to trust me on that. How could you prove that I’m lying or not?”
“Would you sit in a zone of truth?”
“It won’t matter…” he shook his head. “I could resist it.”
“Yes, but then whoever cast it would know.”
“There are ways around that too. We’re going to have to take each other’s word at this point, unless we’re going to dance circles around who knows what about what.”
“What’s going on with the eastern border?” I asked, changing the subject.
“War. Skirmishes. And it will get worse.” Filandrel warned. ”Men coming from the north. Sent by the hobgoblins.”
“Damien?” I asked.
“And pretty soon the Empire is likely going to face its own set of conflicts. Things will only get worse for our people. We’re going to have to take a lot of sides soon… you’re going to have to take a side soon.”
“Take a side in what?”
“The upcoming conflicts, however they shape up. And in the end, I hope you side with your people.”
“What do you mean?” I asked apprehensively.
“Your friend Damien is not what he used to be…”
“You’ve been talking to him?”
“I did.” Filandrel stated with a note of finality.
“What do you mean, he’s not who he used to be?”
“He’s finding himself more empathetic to his father’s points of view…” he studied my face, as if searching for something. “If you had to kill him, would you? If it meant saving everyone you know and love, if it meant stopping your city from burning… could you kill your old friend? If it put those you love in danger, could you lift a finger against him? You’ll have to ask yourself that soon…”
“Is it that bad?” I asked quietly.
“It will get that bad. I have seen this play out before.”
“When?”
“Long ago, when his great-great-grandfather was alive. And it will end in bloodshed and tears.”
“If you wish for any help, I’ll offer it to you.” A hint of a smile ghosted his mouth. “All you have to do is ask, my dearest student.”
“We’re going to need it…” I admitted.
“Against the creature?”
“I can’t just…” I began.
“Will you approach the city then? When? In a few days?”
“I don’t know… when are you meeting with Melkinov?”
“Likely tomorrow. Once I awaken.”
“Where?” I asked.
“At his tower, at Corvus Academy. If you wish for a seat at the table, we’ll leave a chair open for you.”
“So, what do you think? Are you going to do what you have to do, or are you going to follow the will of others?”
“Is not doing what you ask me to do also following the will of others?”
“No.” Filandrel insisted. “Make a choice. And whatever it may be, you have my blessing. We can speak again tomorrow at the table.”
“One more thing…” I said, pausing as I turned to leave. “How did you know that Melkinov…”
“That Melkinov removed the curse? He told me. Him and I are in constant contact as of late. We have fundamental disagreements but we understand the importance of what we do. Enemy of my enemy, you see. He was there when the imperial dragon revealed himself. He sees the danger it poses to many of us.”
“Does he know your true identity?” I asked.
“He… I don’t think he understands it, but he knows enough… more than most men.” He admitted.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No. But once again, what proof do you have that I’m not lying to you?” His exasperation was obvious. “I’ll send you a sending. Have a teleportation ready, it will have the coordinates.”
“Okay.”
“Be safe.”
“You too.”
When I regained consciousness in the axiomyte’s tower, Inira was talking to me. I didn’t catch what she said, because my attention was snared on Rowan, sobbing uncontrollably. I moved over to her, placing my hand on her shoulder and asked her what was wrong. She said that Cojisto is dead.
I am so sorry for her. I cannot imagine what she is going through right now, for, as much as Filandrel and I have our issues, I have no desire to see him killed… the loss of a mentor such as Filandrel, or Cojisto to Rowan, would be a piercing loss.
Inira was asking me what I wanted to do about speaking with Hasim and the axiomyte. Does she not understand that I don’t want to have anything to do with this magic? The only reason why I want to even speak with the axiomyte is because of the sheer gravity of the situation… someone snuck into his tower, it’s the only explanation for the slim dagger wound right over his heart. That was from a slim blade, not from the dragon’s wanton destruction of the city.
Inira began casting her foul magic, the familiar nauseating aura permeating the air. I forced myself to remain where I was when Hasim’s body jerked up into a seated position.
She asked him questions, and the corpse gave rough, strangled replies, barely recognizable as Hasim’s voice. I honestly should have paid more attention to what he said, but I caught that she offered him the axiomyte’s body, and he accepted. I didn’t know how I felt about that… I still don’t, frankly. But I also wasn’t going to try and deny Hasim the chance to return to hold his child. What seemed like an age later, although it was, in reality, only a few minutes, Inira released her hold and Hasim’s body fell limp once more.
Then, Inira put her hands on the axiomyte and began casting her spell again. His body sat up, the same jerky motions as Hasim’s had. Blood spurted from his chest where the dagger had pierced his heart. His head turned as if he was looking around.
Inira spoke her questions, telling him that they were at my behest. She asked what happened to him and his tower.
“The tower was destroyed by the dragon and I was killed by an elf.”
I wanted to know who, so Inira relayed my question. “A singer.” The raspy voice replied, a mockery of the axiomyte’s smooth speech in life. “A performer. She was older than I expected…”
Then Inira asked him how we access the box “in which you kept the things.”
“The box does not contain the objects… what it contains is my knowledge. The word is known to only two… my oldest friend, and those who take the seat of Egig Ero Fa. No others will know the word.”
I asked how to transfer memories from a person into a new Well of Souls, thinking of possible solutions for the princess.
“The answers lie within my knowledge. But the cost is always terrible.” I could hear the note of warning, even from beyond this life.
I wanted to know if he is at peace. Don’t ask me why, but even though he’s done some terrible things, I so much wanted to hear that he found some peace in the end.
Unlike with the other questions, the axiomyte’s body paused for a minute before answering. “I will never know peace.” He said, as the body once again collapsed, empty.
I just sat there for a time, staring at his body, questions burning in my mind. I have so many other things that I wanted to ask him, so many other conversations I wanted to have… Inira interrupted my thoughts, asking if I know the words. Does she not understand? Did she not hear everything that I just heard? There are only a couple of people in the world who know the answer to that question, frankly, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if Filandrel is the only one holding that key…
I sat there, lost in thought for a few more minutes, before coming to a decision. I put the box into my bag of holding, the bag beginning to feel like it’s approaching its carrying capacity. I will decide what to do about the box later…
Some time later, Rowan had gathered the necessary spell components for her spell, and she knelt down beside the axiomyte’s body, healing the stab wound and then beginning to cast her reincarnation spell.
The axiomyte’s body convulsed a few times, before coughing violently and sitting up unsteadily. The voice that came from it in greeting was neither the axiomyte’s nor Hasim’s… rather it seemed to be a combination of them both. He looked down at his hands, slowly flexing them and cautiously moving every limb experimentally. He slowly stood up and swayed, before quipping something about the ground being further away than he was used to…
I am torn. On the one hand, it is nice to have Hasim back among us, and for him to be able to see his son and hold the babe. But, I fear that I may not be able to rectify that with how wrong this whole scenario feels. Hasim has been brought back to life in the body of one of the eldest of the Elves… the axiomyte, who may as well be a legend among my people, for good or ill. Hasim is in his body… Hasim who doesn’t speak a word of Elvish, knows nothing of our history, and is a walking repertoire of false information on our traits. I tried to convince Hasim to at least attempt to learn Elvish – especially if he intends on interacting with any of my people… or even anyone who is familiar with Elves. Fortunately, Hasim as a man was dexterous enough, so he doesn’t move with the usual heaviness that humans and others so often do… All I can do at this point is to hope that I can convince him to learn about our people, learn our language, and be conscientious of the Elf whose body he now inhabits…
As we were barely starting to have some conversation, a chittering, buzzing abomination showed up. A small creature with the head of a man and the body of a bee arrived. It buzzed around and said something about heralding the arrival of Vignir. I was honestly too distracted by axiomyte-Hasim to catch everything he said.
Only a few moments later, Vignir floated in. I say floated because his feet do not touch the ground – it is as though he is permanently under the effect of a fly spell. It has also become apparent that the Vignir we met both in Runestone and here in Wei Jang was a simulacrum of the real one, who has been hiding somewhere, likely in the Akashic Library, or someplace equally disturbing.
The lich immediately started flaunting what knowledge he has of our group, asking who is the servant of the fallen one (obviously referring to Secilia’s patron), and looking around asking where Dekar is. Inira informed him, completely dispassionate and without emotion, that Dekar is dead. If I needed another reminder that Inira is gone, that would have done it more than anything… She told Vignir that Dekar is dead with no more emotion than one talks about the weather – and I’ve seen some people have quite passionate discussions about the weather…
He talked a lot, and he didn’t give anything of vital importance – I think he was just flaunting his knowledge and trying to discern what our plans are… one thing that doesn’t sit well with me though… apparently Vignir is against the raising of undead. That is not what I would have expected from an undead lich. Maybe there is actually some modicum or remainder of a moral code with this monster? An actual code, not just a blind service to his dead goddess? Because if Wei Jang is a city in service to Wee Jas, then surely she had no problem with raising undead – the entire city is full of them, forming a vast infrastructure based on the service of the dead.
I hope to find out more of the bigger picture of this entire situation when I go to Vlatrossi’s and Filandrel’s meeting later today. Grimaldus and Hasim are going to take the baby to Shard’s realm, and see if Rhaego and the old woman will take the child for safekeeping while we deal with whatever storm is coming our way.
The more I think about it though, the more I am concerned with something of a more personal nature… these journals that I have written. I have recorded everything to the best of my ability since shortly after we lost Garrick in Latria. I worry that they may end up in the wrong hands if something were to happen to me… or they may be lost and the stories and deeds of my friends and companions lost to the sands forever. So… I’m going to send them away to be hidden… I thought about sending them to my parents, but that won’t due. No… I’ll send them to Ravlor… Now, before it is too late…
Ashes of the Serpent
9th of Camince, 1485
9th of Camince, 1485
I am writing this sitting beside the body of the axiomyte, in the ruins of his tower… The others have just started falling asleep, although my rest is nowhere to be found. The experience of the last two days is one that I never want to repeat, but I fear that it is just the beginning…
I shouldn’t be here… “What is it that you seek out there, in the desert?” Ravlor’s words keep repeating in my mind. What am I seeking out here? Why am I even still here? I look around at the rest of the party, taking their rest. Alucard, Rowan and Grimaldus all sleep… Inira now rests in the coffin I gave her, in my bag of holding… did I do the right thing? Hasim’s pile of belongings sit next to his sleeping baby, haunting me with the guilt of his death… if I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe I could have done something different and saved him. We saved the child yes, but at what cost? His father’s life? I should have known better. I should have seen it coming and done something to prevent it… been close enough to contain the snake within a dome of force sooner… but I wasn’t. I’d been distracted. And now, Hasim is dead, and his child is bound to walk through his life as another orphan…
What do I seek out here? What will I find? Love, perhaps… but even then, do I need to be out here for that? Could I not have both? Return home and have love? And even then… am I walking down a doomed path with Grimaldus? What is to become of us? He is a man, and not a particularly young one at that, whereas I am still fairly young for my race. I could quite possibly live another five centuries, whereas Grimaldus will likely be gone within the next five decades… is it worth it? Is it worth so much pain for so brief a time together? And what happens if we have a child? Would I have to watch my own child grow old and die while I am still in the middle of my years? These are questions that I cannot help but consider, as they keep intruding into my thoughts, into my meditations…
I feel as if I am standing at a crossroads, and no matter which path I choose is the potential for both joy and pain… but which is it? My people need me. The prince asked for my service, and the dragon in Runestone is seeking the genocide of my people… and Ravlor asked me to return and help… he never asks me for such things… he is usually the one sending me away, not asking for my aid…
I am torn, pulled in two opposing directions… and these past couple days have done nothing to alleviate this conflict within me.
But, before I get too carried away, I need to write of what has transpired… Hasim deserves it. No matter what life he lived in the past… he deserves to be remembered for what he sacrificed… for the good in him and the love he bore for his murdered wife and their child. His is a memory that will live on, among my people at least, if I have any bearing on such things…
The morning after I gave Inira my coffin that I retrieved from the back recesses of my father’s workshop, she found me before the others were awake. Inira is no longer herself at all… she claims that she is still the same person and still cares about us, her “friends”, but I think she is deceiving herself. How could the creature that she has allowed herself, nay, sought out, to become, care about anything but her own aspirations? She came into the room moving like a predator… her brilliant blue eyes are now yellowed, and slitted like a cat’s. Her skin has the pallor of undeath, without a spark of life in her. I wonder if I made a mistake, holding over some lingering loyalty for the girl she once was… am I merely enabling a monster?
She thanked me for “the use of the coffin”, as her bones were cracking, seemingly putting themselves in alignment. She seemed a bit taken aback when I told her that I don’t want it back… I don’t know why I found the need to say that, seeing as I gave it to her, but I said it all the same.
She started explaining what he goals are for the throne… she keeps claiming that she wants to become the new judge of the dead and that her ascending to that position will basically fix many of the issues with the world. She insists that she isn’t doing it out of a desire for power, but that she knows from her conversations with the Blood Lord that her taking that position would help prevent the issues in the Fugue plain and would help prevent the undead curse from running rampant.
Inira is truly delusional. She claims that she was within her right mind when she made her decision, that she approached Shard and asked for him to turn her into a vampire.
I told her that from my point of view, she lost Dekar, panicked, and made a rash decision.
She didn’t like it and reminded me that she had said she was going to do that, and that she always did what she said she would do. What she doesn’t understand though, is that there is a far cry of a difference between saying your going to do something, and actually going through with the decision to become an undead monstrosity, a mere reflection and mockery of your former self.
Apparently though, I never knew Inira in the first place, for she told me that she has always had a hunger for living flesh. So, apparently she’s been a monster the whole time… and Dekar knew too and helped her hide it from the rest of us.
I have come to the conclusion that she and I will never see eye to eye, not that I expected that at all. It is still a loss though, to come to the realization that I find so diametrically opposed to one whom I’d considered a friend, and had even managed to see past most of her necromancy.
Inira expressed concern for what Grimaldus is planning in regards to the throne, and suggested that I speak with him on the subject. I may, but then again, maybe I won’t. I have my own suspicions regarding the throne and they aren’t ones that make me inclined to get involved directly in what will sadly end up being a battle for the throne.
We argued. Inira claims that she is doing what is best for everyone, and that it doesn’t matter if it costs her her life, not that she has one anymore… because it is within her ability to help everyone. She doesn’t seem to comprehend that sometimes the best way that we can help is by remaining alive and ourselves… sometimes, the best way we can help is by being there for people… I am not claiming to be particularly good at that myself, but I’ve seen the impact that others have had… on me, in addition to other people… I know the impact that Ravlor had on me after the war, simply by being there, and taking me into the woods with him. That healing is something that I wouldn’t have found on my own. And I know the importance of our continued conversations have for me, as well.
I know the impact my conversations with Dekar had on me… and I am beginning to feel the impact that Grimaldus is having on me, and to be frank, a part of me is afraid of it…
I do not claim to have the same effect on others, but I hope that I do. I know that I’m not the best person in the world, but I really try to be a good person and do the right things, even when those things are hard.
I finally walked away from Inira, tired of trying to get through to her, when I’m not even sure she is there anymore… I did tell her to take care of the coffin, because my father made it; before I walked away.
A short time later, I received a message from Kent. He said that Megatsushi returned and it is happening again. If we help him, he will help us. My reply was to let him know not to try and resist the scry that I was about to do… I needed to see his location to be able to teleport to him.
Inira asked me if I would carry the coffin in my bag of holding for her, as she cannot carry it herself. I agreed, but reluctantly… this is going far beyond giving it to her… I don’t know if I am entirely okay with this…
- - -
We arrived in the Grippli village, it was empty save for Kent. I immediately turned behind some bushes and vomited. I need to stop doing that, but sometimes, especially when I’m under stress, I just can’t seem to bring myself to stop. It is getting better, I just wish it would happen faster…
At first, everything seemed alive and well at the village, albeit missing all of its inhabitants, but upon closer examination, and a dispel magic casting, the ugly truth was revealed. Everything was dead… the trees were losing a black ichor-like substance that was very reminiscent of the black substance that we encountered in Latria when we were facing the black goat.
Tracks led away from the village toward whatever the temple was that Hasim mentioned. My attention was almost immediately drawn to a pair of tracks among the others. I almost would have missed them, but for the fact that I recognized the shoes… they were Elven footprints, from two separate individuals. They moved like elves, and I recognized them as having the distinctive print of the same shoemaker who provides footwear to nearly the entire population of Egig Ero Fa.
We followed the trail until we came upon the temple mountain that Hasim was telling us about – they were holding his son in the mountain. Other members of the Serpent’s Tail showed up… Hasim’s behavior pointed out which one was the untouchable that he sought revenge upon. Words were exchanged, until another figure stepped up to join them.
Ravlor. Only, it couldn’t have been Ravlor, for I knew that he was in Alcarin with Doodles. He was heading toward the Eastern border, and he wouldn’t have lied to me about it… nor would he ever find himself allied with such people.
I called out to the elf, demanding to know who the fuck it was.
“Now, my dear, that is no way to speak to a former teacher of yours.” His pompous voice made my skin crawl. “We must, after all, adhere to their traditions… respect their parlay, for now.” Professor Berthold… formerly of Egig Ero Fa… just the thought of him was enough to make me feel like I needed to bathe.
“You dare to call me “my dear”, professor?” I spit out.
“I see you have finally found love? A pity, we could have shown you so many things…” his voice crawled over me, taking me back to my early years at Egig Ero Fa, before I’d fully learned how few people can be trusted.
“Change your form!” I demanded harshly.
“I think I shall just remain this way…” he taunted. “After all, I might arouse a little bit of anger out of you… a little fire for once…”
I had only been at Egig Ero Fa for a few short years when it started… the comments, the looks… eventually, they tried to corner me after class. It was the first time I’d ever manifested my ability to use misty step… one minute they were standing far too close to me, asking where my fire was and saying that they would teach me many things… and the next moment, I was outside in the hallway. Without even thinking, I turned and ran as fast as I could for Filandrel’s office. I was shaking by the time I knocked on his door. I didn’t understand what was going on with them, didn’t understand why two professors of Egig Ero Fa would think to behave in such a way. Filandrel looked up as I entered, all concern as he asked what had happened. I think he was surprised, judging by his reaction. He simply placed his hand on my shoulder and said that “It will be dealt with.” I never encountered either of them at Egig Ero Fa again…
“You always did lack passion for what you did… it only took a few dead friends to make you finally see the light.” He lectured.
I asked him where his cohort is, for the two were never far apart. He said that his companion was in the pyramid, although he likely might be already on the way to the city to parley with the dragon.
“You always were a filthy fucking rat.” I told him, making an effort to have my voice drip with disdain.
“You’re calling me a rat? It was you who lifted the curse on the city, after all…” he paused, a smirk growing on his stolen face. “Wait… huh. Curious… seems you’re clueless after all. A shame… I thought you would have grown by now…”
“What the fuck do you want here?”
“We wish to deal with the dragon. The creature out west, the imperial dragon, wishes genocide upon our people, and you are over here, choosing to make an enemy of the one being powerful enough to challenge him.” He lectured. “We could save our people. We could even use this throne to, perhaps, parlay for our own immortality.”
“Change your form.” I insisted, feeling like I needed to take some kind of control over the situation, if only in my mind.
“No.” He said with a chuckle. “What, does this bother you? Have you told your lover about him?” He glanced pointedly at Grimaldus. “Perhaps they’re competing for you. After all, the elf will win… he will die, at some point, he will die.”
“Inara.” Hasim leaned in. “Is he bothering you?”
“This is why we don’t interbreed, you know.” Berthold called out, looking at Secilia. “It always turns into such a disappointment.”
“Is he bothering you?” Hasim repeated. “I can’t make out what he’s saying.”
“Of course he is.” I told Hasim, repeating the gist of what was being said. “Do you not see the form he dares to take?”
Hasim nodded and began to move away. Before he could do anything, Inira uttered a spell and darkness covered the area of ground Berthold, the untouchable, and much of the other Serpent’s Tail forces. Screams sounded from in the darkness.
The fight that broke out was intense. After some time, a massive, gargantuan snake appeared. Then everything went to shit. The snake ended up eating Hasim, Secilia and Grimaldus. Grimaldus and Secilia made it out, but Hasim… Hasim was far too injured, and he died before anyone had the chance to heal him.
He did manage to say something to Rowan, but I didn’t catch all of it… I’ll have to ask her about it later.
Grimaldus and Kent made a beeline into the mountain, and when I caught up, they’d already killed the serpents there and Grimaldus was holding Hasim’s baby in his arms. Kent was running around frantically and freeing all of the grippli from their cages.
That is when I teleported all of us out, to the axiomyte’s tower. I was fully expecting to find myself back in his magical cage, but instead, I found myself in a ruin. We made our way down and found the axiomyte’s body laying in his workshop, next to a warded adamantine box.
Hasim’s baby was crying. Grimaldus turned his breastplate and cloak into a makeshift cradle, but still the child cried. I was going to soak some of my rations to make a porridge for the babe, but Rowan handed me some goodberries instead. I mashed them up in my hand and fed them to the baby. Fortunately, it worked, and between that and a lullaby, the child finally slept.
Now, I just sit here, writing as I stare at the body of the axiomyte… where do we go from here?
Sand and Storms
6th of Camince, 1485
6th of Camince, 1485
Wow… so much happened in the past couple of days. We were attacked by a blue dragon on our way to the tomb, and we managed to avoid it through intelligent use of teleportation magic. The young enchanter who tried to join us for the tournament in Wei Jang showed up and accompanied us for much of the way… apparently the boy is also seeking out the djinn.
We found ourself backed up against the rock of the tombs with the dragon fast approaching, surrounded by his summoned elementals. I was able to open a passageway through the rock to allow us to pass through unscathed, it closed just in time to prevent the dragon from following us, or breathing through the gap. We fought a behir when we entered the tombs, and Alucard proved himself to be more than just talk – he is actually pretty decent in a fight (although I would expect such from a dhampir who claims to be as old as he does).
Grimaldus and Hasim led us down the passageways, I was uneasy as I could sense how deep we were going… it felt like we might be approaching Narvoth when the passageway opened up and we found ourselves face to face with the ghostly visage of a fire giant. He claimed to have trapped the djinn further along as punishment for some long-ago crime. Hasim was able to convince him to let us pass, because the wish that we wanted to make would cause the djinn great annoyance and increase their personal misery.
We finally found the djinn… in a room guarded by several constructs, stone golems to be precise… we tried to avoid an altercation, but as is usually the case, the outcome was inevitable and so we fought. We defeated the stone golems and the djinn began wreaking havoc. Finally, I was able to get my hands on the lamp, and they calmed under my control.
I made our first wish – the one that Vlatrossi had written in a hundred languages… boiled down, it was a wish for us to be able to bypass the curse of the Nameless City. I wish that I knew the specifics of how they granted the wish… but I did feel a cool tingly breeze pass through the room as the djinn said our wish was granted.
Then the boy, who Secilia revealed to be Belzy, asked for his wish – the one that he had come seeking… to free the spirit of his friend, Kyoko, from the mind of Princess Anastasia. I couldn’t help but wonder if, by handing the lamp to Belzy to make his wish, if I was losing my own chance to find the Princess in her dream, for last time, it was Kyoko who pointed me to Anastasia…
Hasim was standing next to me when a portal opened in the doorway, and two figures stepped out… Karkhadon, the dragon-man from Wei Jang stepped into the room, accompanied by an Abashai. They tried to get me to give them the lamp so they could make the final wish… something to do with removing Weejas’ body from Vignir’s possession so that it could be destroyed, and another judge of the dead raised in her place.
“Give me the lamp.” Hasim whispered next to me. “Trust me.” He sounded hesitant as though he was expecting me to deny him. But, I had no desire for the final wish, and Hasim is intelligent… and I do trust him. I trusted him enough to bring him to my parents’ house and sit him at my mother’s table…
I saw the abashai begin to cast a spell and before I could even react, the lamp was jerked from my grasp. Fortunately, Hasim’s quick reflexes enabled him to catch it out of the air and he shouted his wish. Hasim wished for him to go to the same afterlife as his wife, and retain all of his faculties when he dies… it is a noble wish, if impractical… but I know that were I in his position, I would likely wish for similar… why bring his wife back to life when she could just be killed again… and then there would be no recourse for him…
As Hasim cast the third and final wish, he loudly called out that it was horrible of the newcomers to release the djinn like they did. A primordial roar of anger shook the entire tomb, as the spirit of the fire giant raged.
A dagger flew out of the shadows and struck me in the side. I could feel insidious poison begin working its way through my bloodstream, making me weaker and fogging my mind. I put pressure on the wound as best as I could and continued fighting… although most of my time was spent countering the spells of the abashai. The dagger had come from Hasim’s nemesis… the man who had arranged for the murder of his wife. As soon as Hasan (I believe that was the name Hasim was shouting) arrived, Hasim focused single-mindedly on killing him, giving little thought to his own life. I can’t say that I blame him though… for if I was looking at someone who murdered my family, I do not even want to see the level of destruction that I would wreak.
The entire chamber began to tremble. I shouted for everyone to get close to me so I could teleport us out. Inira lost her mind, giving herself fully over to the beast she’s become… she was in a frenzy, ripping apart and draining the body of one of those who’d shown up with Karkhadon… It was like something out of a nightmare. Fortunately she ended up pulling herself out of it enough that she was able to join us… even though a part of me wondered if it would have been better to leave her. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even though it did cross my mind.
Finally, when I managed to get everyone close enough, I teleported us to the city of Arlen. We met up with a contact of Hasim’s in a sleazy tavern called The Tainted Cauldron… the man fancies himself a wizard, apparently. We will see if he can actually deliver a basic spell or information… the racist pig. I did contribute to the questions for him to find answers to… “divination wizard” as he claims to be.
Now I am writing this in the mansion that Alucard conjured in the middle of the city. It is a pleasant place in here… it makes me feel somewhat at home once again being surrounded by this much magic. I am watching Inira though… she is restless as though she cannot sleep. I heard her mention something to Alucard and Grimaldus about needing soil from her homeland and a coffin. I suppose the tales must be true then… about vampires needing to sleep in the soil of their home in a coffin… she looks like she hasn’t rested in days… which I suppose makes sense, all considering. What I don’t understand is why it makes me feel bad for her… she isn’t Inira anymore… is she?
Hasim’s contact arrived, Galus, I think his name is, the weaselly bastard. He had answers to some of our questions, and the one I asked, about a fey who could guide me through the dream, he pointed me to a human named Delilah somewhere in the north. Why the fuck he thinks a human should be able to help me navigate the dream, I have no idea, but it might be worth at least exploring the possibility. I personally think he is full of shit, but we’ll see.
He did tell Hasim that his child is in danger though. Apparently, the boy has been taken somewhere in the jungles to the southeast. As that is home to the grippli, I decided to contact Kent and see if he will meet up and guide us safely through his ancestral lands. His reply was immediate. He will meet us at the edge of the jungle in a few days time. It will be nice to see him again… and I will take great amusement in watching the others meet him – if their reactions are anything like Grimaldus’ was in Latria, it will be quite entertaining…
Secilia approached me not long ago and asked if I would teleport her to her childhood home. It kind of came out of nowhere, but I told her that I will on the morrow. I need to rest and meditate before I cast any more major spells. I don’t think she will like what she finds, seeing as her home is in Three Towns… from what I’ve heard, that whole area was completely ravaged by the dead… but, we will see in the morning.
For now, I must rest…
Ashes and Memories
4th of Camince, 1485
4th of Camince, 1485
I spoke to the others when they returned… I told them about my visit to Alcarin to meet with the prince, the burning of Egig Ero Fa, and Oberon wanting me to replace Filandrel. Grimaldus seems to think that it was a good thing, that Filandrel is marked for execution and I was offered his position. But does he not understand? I’ve been trying to avoid politics for so long… I’ve been striving to keep myself out of the intrigues at court… this would be putting me right into the thick of it. And… it makes me wonder what his plans are… does he want me to return to Alcarin?
I explained to Grimaldus that I’m not even positive that I was speaking with Prince Oberon, and not another of Filandrel’s disguises. I told them that I am worried for my parents, and needed to return to check on them… but I didn’t want to go alone. It was Grimaldus and Damian who first saw through Filandrel’s deception and brought it all to light.
It was finally decided that Rowan and Secilia would stay and watch Inira’s body, and Grimaldus and Hasim would accompany me to Alcarin. I must admit that my reason for wanting Hasim was multifaceted… not only would having Hasim be invaluable if there was something deceptive going on that required the use of stealth and violence, but… and perhaps this was more the reason… I wanted to give him a brief glimpse into Elven society… so maybe, just maybe, he will be a little less ignorant in the future…
Grimaldus, Hasim and I teleported to the gardens in Alcarin, it is the closest teleportation circle to my parents’ house. Immediately, my senses were assailed by the smell of burnt wood, and the ash still floating, carried on the wind. Egig Ero Fa is burned to the ground… the fires are out now, but the echo of them still lingers in the air… smoke is choking the air, and polluting the sky above. I fought down the bile I could feel rising in my throat, that flames have come for my home, made even worse by the fact that it was by the order of our own prince.
Pushing that aside, I led Grimaldus and Hasim to my parents’ house. The streets were empty, disconcertingly so. The door was locked. I knocked and my mother’s voice answered, asking who I was… a disturbing level of trepidation in her voice.
“It’s me.” I said.
“I didn’t know you’d be coming home.” She replied.
“What is going on?” I asked.
I could hear her heavy sigh through the door. “Some sort of treason, I think… are you okay?”
“Are you?” I still hadn’t heard my father’s voice…
“Yes.” She replied with another sigh. “Yes, we’re fine. Come in. One of your friends is here.”
Grimaldus stopped me as I moved to enter the house. “How do you know that is actually your mother?” he whispered.
“This is my parents’ house.” I told him.
“That doesn’t mean anything.” He retorted.
Hasim snuck around the back of the house, ready in case it was a ruse for something sinister… but then, my mother opened the door. I could see my father sitting at the table behind her, having tea and talking to Ravlor.
Ravlor’s eyes immediately met my own, before his gaze darted to Grimaldus standing behind me. Grimaldus greeted him with an uncommon edge in his voice.
“You should come in and grab a seat. The smoke is bad for your lungs.” Ravlor responded with frosty politeness. “You’re aging, after all, you should take care of yourself.”
“Like a fine wine, brother.” Grimaldus grinned.
“Vinegar, more like.” Ravlor retorted, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Oh gods… please stop… I’ve never felt more awkward in my entire life… not when I first met Ravlor, or the first time he took me out into the woods during the war… not even in Runestone when I asked Grimaldus why he invited me to go east with him…
But, even the awkward tension amid the already tense situation caused by Alcarin’s current political climate, couldn’t dampen the joy that I felt at seeing Ravlor in person again. It only got better when Doodles came padding out of the kitchen, carrying a gigantic pot of some boiling substance.
Doodles immediately dropped the pot, which spilt boiling refuse all over the floor, and ran over to hug my leg, shrieking in surprised delight. I hugged him back, then embraced both my parents and Ravlor. Doodles then walked up to Grimaldus. “What up??” he said happily.
“Kobold, you live!” Grimaldus said, still calling him a kobold, no matter how many times we’ve told him that Doodles is actually a goblin… “It seems you’ve earned your stripes…” he continued proudly, referring to the nasty scar that was partially visible running across Doodles’ small body.
“Umm… there was a shark.” Doodles explained.
“Did you kill it?” Grimaldus asked. At Doodles’ nod, Grimaldus said “Good…” (apparently not noticing the terror still evident in the goblin’s wide eyes).
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m good.” Doodles’ voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched, even for him.
I called Hasim to come inside and meet my family. He seemed rather shocked at Doodles, apparently he’d never seen a goblin before either… come to think of it, I haven’t seen a single goblin since I’ve been in the east. Odd… I never would have thought that there were no goblins there…
I introduced everyone, and Grimaldus made a valiant attempt to introduce himself in Elvish.
Adar turned to me. “His Elvish is terrible…”
“He tries.” I shrugged helplessly.
“Yes… I see that… he tries…”
We sat down for dinner, the lentil stew that Amillë makes when she is anxious. It was just as delicious as I remember it.
Doodles and Hasim seemed to hit it off very well… they spent the entire meal discussing poison concoctions, particularly for use against rats. I don’t know why I was surprised, looking at the two of them, I realize that in many ways, the man and the goblin are like two peas in a pod, as the human saying goes. Doodles squealed excitedly and the two of them left to go outside, chatting animatedly the entire time.
When they left and the table quieted, I asked my parents and Ravlor about what was happening in Alcarin.
Apparently there had been a plot against the infant princess, and Filandrel was found guilty of the plot under mountains of evidence. Much of Egig Ero Fa was questioned, and then displaced. Everyone associated with Egig Ero Fa has been spread out across other schools, other areas of Alcarin. Prince Oberon had then ordered Egig Ero Fa burned to the ground.
Ravlor told me that there was conflict brewing at the border, and he felt like he needed to come home. Especially with the dragon reappearing, and everything that he witnessed while he was sailing with Doodles.
Ravlor looked over at me. “Do you have a moment?” He asked.
“Yes.” I answered. “Of course.” Does he really think that I wouldn’t spare him a moment when he asks? Or even a great many moments?
He sighed and asked to walk outside for a moment. I turned to the rest of the table, “give me a moment” and I followed him outside.
“Have you seen Damian recently?” Ravlor asked heavily. “At all? Have you spoken to him, perhaps?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not since… what I talked to you about…”
“Neither have I.” He admitted. “We thought to pass and see him on the way here… we weren’t even able to get close, before we were turned away.”
“Why?” I asked, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.
“He was not in the mood to see anyone, it seems.”
“Are you saying I should…” I began.
“No.” Ravlor shook his head, cutting me off. “I’m saying you should give him space. I worry about his mental state…”
I sat there, looking at Ravlor for a moment, and then because I didn’t know how else to say it, I just said. “Dekar’s dead.”
Shock came over his face and he asked “what do you mean?”
“Dekar’s dead.” I said, my voice sounding flat even to myself.
“Don’t tell Doodles.” Ravlor said softly.
“We went to Ysgard.” I began. “I still don’t know why anyone thought it was a good idea, but we did… Dekar fought the Blood Lord…”
“And died.” Ravlor finished for me.
“Grimaldus tried to bring him back,” I continued, numb. “But apparently, he refused the call. Inira…” I began, not even knowing how to say it.
“What is it that you seek out there, in the desert?” Ravlor asked quietly.
“I don’t know…” I replied. “What do you mean “what do I seek”?”
“Come home.” He said, an odd catch to his voice. “They need you. Your parents need you…”
“You told me to stay as far away as…”
Ravlor sighed in exasperation and shook his head. “Yeah… until the world turned upside down… oh gods… I sound like them right now…”
“Yeah,” I smiled sadly. “You do.”
“You actually do.” I responded to his rueful laugh.
“Shit… pretty soon you’re going to be seeing me eat steak. It’s actually not that bad…” He caught my skeptical glance. “What? If you kill the cow humanely, it’s not terrible. Yes, you make them live in pens… Pig, I don’t know… I could never quite get behind pig…”
Ravlor was obviously deflecting the conversation, rambling about food… he only ever does that when he’s extremely uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to say.
“What do you think about all this?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the situation at hand.
“I think the ground is shifting underneath us, and there’s nothing we can do about it…” he said bitterly.
“There is apparently a throne somewhere in the desert…” I began.
Ravlor shook his head. “The less I know, the better, I think.”
“Yeah… I guess you’re right.”
“I don’t want to delay your matters here. I’ll watch over your parents while you’re gone.”
“Thank you.”
“Doodles and I want to check a few things out, we have questions.”
“Be careful.” I admonished. “I don’t want to lose you guys too…”
“Oh we’ll be careful.” Ravlor assured me, his words interrupted by an explosion coming from behind the house – where Doodles and Hasim were experimenting.
“Do you still have that scroll?” I asked, referring to the scroll of sending I gave him back in Runestone.
“I do.” Ravlor quirked an eyebrow. “Do you still have that bow?”
“Of course.” I paused, looking at him for a moment. “Take care of yourself.”
Ravlor reached out and grabbed my shoulder, about to say something, but then he glanced at the window and dropped his hand, leaving me with “We’ll catch up another time.”
I don’t really know what to think… what was he going to say but then stopped himself? Why was he acting so weird? Is it because Grimaldus was there? Probably, but Ravlor never acted like that around him before… I don’t know, but it is something that I can’t afford to devote much mental energy to at the moment. There will be plenty of time for that later…
We made our way back inside, to find that the others had finished their meal. I bade them all farewell and set off towards the royal library.
We were greeted at the door of the library by an oddly familiar face. Latriana Abelle…
Her blue gaze looked me up and down. “Well, you look different… in a good way.” She added almost as an afterthought. “Are you well?”
“As well as can be expected. Yourself?”
“I’ve been tasked with overseeing the library… yeah… I know… and it’s a little overwhelming and I feel very pressured.” She paused for a moment, exasperation seeping from her every pore. “So, before I hang myself from that tree, would you mind telling me what it is that you need?”
“I am looking for the Princess’ personal collection.”
“Upstairs… there is another man too, he seems to be looking for the same thing. Old texts or some-such… histories. Say hello, he’s friendly.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s an old patron of the library… actually helped found it.”
“Who is he?” I asked again.
“Go and see for yourself. I was confused too…”
“Okay. Thank you.” I paused, studying her face… Latriana is so much different now… the twinkle in her blue eyes is faded, as if her fervor for life has left her, leaving only worries behind. “Don’t be afraid to take a break if you need to… get away for a while… I know it’s done me a world of good…”
She nodded, saying that she was going to take a break right now, and headed back toward her desk. As we walked by, I couldn’t help but notice the several empty wine bottles hidden behind her stacks of books and papers.
Seeing Latriana now, in this state… it’s like looking into a mirror of an alternative reality. For, she was one of the more promising students who was at Twin Rivers, she also survived. But, she didn’t have Ravlor, to take her out into the woods for weeks on end when the memories became too much. She didn’t even have Filandrel who, for all of his betrayals, did drive me to pursue other things in the war’s aftermath. And, it makes me wonder… if not for Ravlor, and even Filandrel… would I find myself in her same position now? Drowning myself in bottles of wine while I stay in the same library where I spent my youth, never leaving Alcarin?
My melancholic thoughts were quickly swept away amid the stacks of books and shelves as we entered the library proper. My spirits climbed with each step as I ascended the familiar spiral staircases.
“Where are the library ghosts?” Hasim’s question pulled me out of my reverie.
“We don’t have ghosts here!” I exclaimed. “Have you never been to a library before?” I know he was at the one in Wei Jang, but I mean an actual library where you can peruse the shelves and read (almost) any book that strikes your fancy. Not one where you show up and everything is under a silence spell, and you have to inform the eerie ghosts exactly what you’re looking for and then they bring it to you…”
Hasim was surprised. “Then how do you ever find anything?”
I explained that there is an organizational system… everything is shelved in categories and then alphabetized by author and title. It is incredibly effective, as soon as you understand the system.
Hasim didn’t seem convinced, but we were soon distracted by the man who started walking over towards us. He was tall and oddly pretty for a human male… his face was incredibly pale, his waist length white-blond hair was worn down, and he wore a flowing black cloak. Something was off, but I wasn’t able to place it. He introduced himself as Alucard, and said that the Feathered Woman had told him to meet me here. I didn’t trust anything he was saying at that point, so after Hasim spoke with him, Grimaldus set up a zone of truth and he answered our questions.
He is a dhampir… the child of a vampire and a human, in his case… Apparently he is searching for some sign of his father. Alucard claims to have been one of the first students at Egig Ero Fa… and he was killed at some point but came back recently. If I hadn’t spent the past two years in such unusual circumstances, I wouldn’t have been able to believe it, even with the zone of truth. But, he is convinced that his goals put him along the same path as us… so we’re bringing him along… for now.
I teleported us back to the others, and found Inira awake when we returned. She is so different… to be expected of course, because she is now an undead vampire… but still… gone are her bright, clear blue eyes, and in their place are yellow eyes with slitted pupils, almost like a cat’s. She moves differently too… and feels different. She is cold, colder than she was as a human… and I don’t mean cold in the temperature of her body – which is likely true as well… she is detached. Even from the loss of Dekar, she seems detached… like it either hasn’t fully registered that he’s gone, or her turning into an undead removed the part of her that cared… either way it is a tragedy.
We’re going to set off across the desert in the morning… hunting for the tombs of primeval kings that reputedly hold the djinn that Hasim is so insistent on finding…
Ashes on the Wind
3rd of Camince, 1485
3rd of Camince, 1485
I knew it was a mistake to go there… to Ysgard, the realm that was once Kord’s, but now belongs to Shard, the cursed Blood Lord. I almost find myself wishing I’d refused to bring them, although they would have simply found another way…
Our party is crumbling. Just like the walls of Egig Ero Fa… the ashes of my friends soar in the wind…
Dekar is dead. The fool! He attacked Shard with the abandon born of sheer stupidity and hubris. What did he hope to accomplish? Nothing. It was suicide, in the end. And to think, he had the nerve to tell me that you need to keep pressing on for the memories of friends, and then he has the audacity to throw his life away for an ill-timed attack on a fucking god!
It was only a few days ago, when he told me that he was counting on me to make sure that everyone gets out of this adventure. He was counting on me to have his back in the coming battles. What the fuck? How can he say that shit, expect me to carry on through an entire city of undead, when the first time he comes across the cursed god he claimed to want to kill, he threw his life away? So fucking stupid…
Grimaldus tried to revive him, but apparently Dekar refused to call to return. Just looking at Inira in that moment… I could nearly hear her heart shatter. It cracked, along with her façade of control that she so desperately tries to keep. It cracked as soon as Grimaldus told her that Dekar chose not to come back.
I didn’t know what to do… I’ve lost friends and loved ones before, but not like this… I’ve never stood by while a friend threw their life away for such a foolish reason… a suicide more than anything… and especially not a friend who had a lover standing there waiting for his return. Are all men this fickle? I find myself looking over towards Grimaldus and hoping that they are not.
Dekar’s body lay there, his unseeing eyes staring up at the blood drops raining from the sky. I didn’t know what else to do, so I moved over and prestidigitated the blood from his face, and gently closed his eyes. As is the manner of my people, I spoke the words “Hiro hon hidh ab’wanath.”
Inira looked at me, her tears carving rivulets down her bloodstained face. “He doesn’t fucking want peace, but thank you.” She said bitterly.
I shook my head. “Everyone wants peace, in the end.”
“Then he would have stayed with me.” Inira choked out.
Not knowing what else to do to comfort her, I conjured a miniature pendant, engraved with Dekar’s likeness, and placed it in her hand, before backing away to allow her a modicum of privacy in her grief.
I made my way down to where the others were waiting, trying to comfort Meriwald, who’d buried his face into my neck, grief wracking his little body.
We sat there for a time, allowing Inira her privacy.
Grimaldus was talking with his grandmother, the Blood Lord had offered sanctuary to the old woman, and Rhaego, for as long as was necessary. I was distracted by their conversation when “grandmother” turned to me and asked if Elves beat their children when they’re unruly.
I was taken aback. Why would anyone beat their child? When I expressed my consternation, she explained that children must be beaten for discipline, to ensure that they don’t turn as wild as cannibals in the desert.
I informed her that my people do not “beat” our children. Rather, Elven parents raise them in such a way that they never are at risk for being wild as cannibals in the desert.
“A child must be broken like a horse.” She retorted.
“No.” I insisted. Why was I even having this conversation with her? “Horses must be gentled.”
“Ah.” I could see the disbelief written across her face. “However, you must think… we have particularly stout children. They may not respond to such gentleness… they may see you as soft.”
“I don’t think I need to worry about your children right now…” I raised an eyebrow, trying very hard to be civil, when I really wanted to shout at her that Elven children are intelligent individuals who are fully capable of being raised without such harsh discipline.
She snorted in disagreement. “Of course not.” She said placatingly.
She said it was nice to meet us and with a huge hug for Grimaldus, bid us farewell.
Rhaego told Grimaldus that he better return before he was as old as their grandmother. I didn’t like thinking of the two of them, Rhaego and “grandmother” stuck here on this plane if something goes wrong. So, I asked Rhaego if he is familiar with magic. As he said he can use rudimentary magic, and scrolls, I gave him a scroll of sending, and told him that if he needs it, then he knows how to contact me.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our conversation. The black cloaked figure of the Blood Lord approached, carrying Inira’s lifeless body in his arms. Purple bruises ringed her neck, and I could feel my heart drop out through my stomach. “What the f…” my words failed on my lips.
“I know what she did…” Grimaldus said.
“She made a choice.” The Blood Lord’s voice was emotionless.
I shook my head, willing what was in front of my eyes to be some kind of dark illusion. “She didn’t…”
“She did.” Grimaldus stated, his voice almost held a note of admiration… why, is something that I’m not willing to look at even now…
“She will awaken in the next day.” The Blood Lord stated implacably. “Make sure she does not see the sun. When she awakens, she will need to feed. Make sure…” he trailed off.
Then, he gently laid her body down near us, and said “Go forth, become legends.” Then, he turned around and walked back up the stairs to his shrine as though nothing had happened.
We returned to the material plane shortly thereafter… a much more somber group than when we left. We arrived far off in the desert, the wind was howling all around us.
Grimaldus led us north, toward the tombs of the primeval kings. We made camp in a set of ruins for the night.
And so, here I sit… Garrick’s hammer is weighing heavy at my side. I took it from Dekar’s body… I couldn’t bear to see one of the last remaining mementos of Garrick lost in the horrible plane.
I feel numb… as though this is all surreal and I might wake from a meditation and find that these past few hours were naught but a twisted dream. But alas, that is to the case… Dekar is gone. Inira is… well… it remains to be seen what she will be when she awakens. A vampire yes… but will she retain any aspect of herself or will she be as a ravenous beast? I don’t know. Nor, do I find myself able to stop thinking about it, even though I desperately wish my mind leave the dark thoughts behind. What if she awakens and we have to kill her?
I cannot help but wonder why… why would she take such a step so willingly… to seek it out. I know that she did mention it in passing before, but when the vampiress approached her before, it seemed like Inira was looking for a way to back out, to refuse the “blood kiss” as they call it. Maybe she made her decision too hastily, caught up in the tangle of sorrow that Dekar’s death, and refusal to return, must have overcome her? I know not… but I do feel like I lost two friends this day… I sit here and find my gaze unable to stray from Inira’s cold, lifeless body, laying across from me where Grimaldus set her.
I don’t know what to do… these past few days have been difficult. The flames of our campfire bring the smell of burning wood to my nostrils… which leads my mind back to the burning of Egig Ero Fa, Filandrel’s alleged treason, and Prince Oberon’s request of me… if he was even the prince at all…
As I think on it now, I cannot help but wonder… for, I’ve never met the prince in person… can I be certain that he wasn’t actually Filandrel in disguise? He told me himself that he has been many different people over the centuries, had many different faces… but that isn’t the only thing… my father is a friend of Filandrel’s… will his consequences bear ill for my parents?
Anxiety is rising in my chest, I need to make sure that they are safe… I need to go check on them, make sure everything is okay. I could leave right now, but I think I shall wait for Grimaldus, Rowan and Hasim to return. They said something about finding bandits and left shortly after we made camp.
It looks like the others are returning… I will talk to them and go to Alcarin as soon as I’m able…
Crumbling Amid Ashes
2nd of Camince, 1485
2nd of Camince, 1485
I feel numb as I write this… Even as I sit here in Kurvajai, Egig Ero Fa is burning. By the hand of our own prince. I just returned from Alcarin, and I feel as though I’m in shock. The only way that I think I’ll even begin to make sense of this mess is if I recount everything that happened from the dinner last night. Yes… that will be best…
Apparently it is customary in these lands for men and women to have separate sleeping quarters… and not even within the same building. Odd, but the sentiment isn’t unwelcome either. I appreciate not having to listen to Inira and Dekar late into the night when I’m trying to meditate. I’m sure Inira is capable of at least dampening the sound around them, but… they are young, and their love is new. I suppose I shouldn’t begrudge them the solace they find in each other.
We got settled into our guest quarters, it was fairly comfortable. Secilia was looking at herself in the mirror and inspecting the new scars that seem to be linked to the humiliations that she is going through. I don’t think that she comprehends the level of things to come, she is pursuing a fool’s hope, and one surrounded by ill portents.
As we were talking, the sound of booted footsteps approached the tent. I called out, and the sound of a man clearing his throat was on the other side. Rhaego had come, asking for entrance to speak with Secilia. I allowed him to enter and he asked Secilia if she would to walk under the stars and speak with him. I tried to convince her to go, “if he’s anything like his cousin,” I whispered to her, “you should to speak with him.”
I was disappointed to hear her retreating footsteps as she ran out the back of the tent. Rhaego’s face fell and he explained that his intentions were entirely honest, he simply wanted to get to know her. I told him that I do not think Secilia has ever encountered a man with honest intentions before. I could see that he understood what I had left unspoken by the expression on his face. Shortly thereafter, he left.
The mood in the tent was rather subdued after that, not that we had been particularly celebratory beforehand. The quiet was interrupted a short time later by Secilia’s scream in the night. I ran outside, just in time to catch the sight of Grimaldus cradling his grandmother’s body as he was frantically chanting a spell. Secilia too was there, kneeling beside them, her hands pressed to the old woman’s body, light emanating from her hands as she aided Grimaldus’ attempts to heal his grandmother. Finally, thankfully, the elderly woman seemed stabilized. Rhaego came running up and Grimaldus informed him of what had just happened. Apparently a man disguised as Grimaldus approached the woman and spoke with her before sinking a poisoned dagger into her stomach.
Hasim listened to Secilia’s account (for she saw the whole thing), and then told us that it must have been the same man who had set him up in the past, the same man who orchestrated the death of Hasim’s wife and their mutual crucifixion upon the tree of woe, where Secilia had found him. He warned that this man was hunting Grimaldus, that a hit must have been taken out on him. And, Hasim continued, unlike most assassins, who will simply focus on and eliminate their target, this man would instead target everyone that Grimaldus cared about, hence the attack on his grandmother.
As Grimaldus, Hasim and Rhaego were talking, Inira approached and asked to speak with me in private. She hasn’t really spoken to me much since I shouted at her several days ago in Hatholdir’s camp, so I wasn’t sure what she wanted – especially when she asked if I had any spells that could ensure the privacy of our conversation.
I asked her what could possibly be so important that she was asking me to break the sacred laws of Kurvajai, those that don’t allow magic. (I’m sure an exception was made in the case of Grimaldus and Secilia healing his grandmother because of the violation of the attack itself.)
Inira asked me what we are going to do about the dragon, and if I think we will get what we are seeking from the djinn. I told her of course not, I’m not expecting to get anything we actually want from the djinn.
Apparently I said something that Inira didn’t like, because her tone was harsh when she asked what I think she’s trying to do.
She really didn’t like it when I told her I don’t know, and I asked her in return what it is that she is actually trying to do... she claims she is trying to help the world.
I don’t see it though… and I feel like there is a rift between us, we have never been close friends, but I do care for her, and with each bitten word, it feels as though the rift is breaking into a chasm.
Inira asked what I think she spoke about with the axiomyte. I told her that I have no idea, as I wasn’t there to hear it.
She started talking about the world is dying and the wheel is broken and there are parasites on it. Honestly, I didn’t pay that close attention to the particulars of what she was saying, she kept going on about there being parasites on the wheel. Then she said that her conversation with the axiomyte had revealed that one of the missing links is that there is no judge of the dead.
“What if I became judge of the dead and filled the hole?” She asked me, her eyes burning with fanatic intensity.
As I stood there, listening to her, and watching the intense expression on her face, it struck me… she has no idea that this would very likely put her in direct opposition with Dekar… is she prepared to deal with the fallout from that?
“Do you actually grasp what you’re saying?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t be myself anymore.” Inira acknowledged with a nod. “But it would fill the hole.”
“Are you willing to kill Dekar for it?” I asked bluntly. When she made no response, I continued. “Only one can sit on the throne.” She looked shocked. “Something you might want to think about…” I told her.
“I would sacrifice myself.” Inira told me. “But not any of you… I am disposable, none of you are.” Then she walked away.
Why can’t she see it? Does she not see the destruction that her path is going to lead her to? She is going to lose herself, lose everyone she loves, if she continues down the path of this goal. I could almost see it, see her and Dekar standing before a throne, both poised to fight the other for what they consider to be the best course of action, but neither having the foresight to grasp that this is a repeating cycle that they will not break unless they do something different… such an opportunity of power could drive someone mad… if they even make it that far…
As those thoughts milled about my mind, a sharp pain stabbed me in the temple, and I could smell ozone in the air. I saw a long, feathered cloak in my mind, and I heard a snippet of conversation in Elvish and Wakamatsu. They say “It’s there. If you’re not going to take it, someone else will.” I saw the woman with the feathered cloak walk away, and Princess Anastasia, standing there looking bewildered as she spoke with the witch of the east. The headache passed, and with it, the vision of someone else’s memory.
I decided that I would go home this night. I was talking to Meriwald, and he agreed that it would be best for me to go seek an audience with Prince Oberon to try and discern anything about the staff fragments, and see if there’s anything I can learn to help with the Princess’ afflicted state.
As I was talking with Meriwald, Hasim approached, asking me if I wanted to try and scry on the assassin. “When she gets back.” Meriwald informed him, completely forgetting that Hasim does not speak Elvish. “We have business.” Then, when he finally remembered that Hasim couldn’t understand him, he began taunting him, until I made him stop and told Hasim that I would be back by the morning.
- - - -
Meriwald and I arrived in Alcarin at the teleportation circle nearest to the palace. Everything was uncannily still, as though the forest itself knew there was something wrong and the air was issuing a warning. Yellow leaves fell from the many birch trees, for it was the beginning of autumn here. The leaves tossed about by the gentle breeze only fueled the uncomfortable melancholy.
I approached the palace, and after a brief conversation with one of the guards, was granted a short audience with the Prince. I was surprised to be granted near immediate entry. It seems as though no one has been allowed to speak with him, save for those who may have solutions to the Princess’ situation.
As I enter the throne room, Prince Oberon looked up from where he sat in his chair. The princess’ seat remained painfully empty beside him. It was the first time I’ve ever met the prince in person, as all of my dealings with our royalty in the past have been through Anastasia. The throne room was completely empty of guards. Even now, after speaking with him, I am not sure if it was because of his situation and melancholic lack of care, or if it was a testament to his supreme self confidence. Either way, I was grateful for the privacy, for the things that I planned to discuss were best kept away from prying ears.
I bowed low, unsure. Prince Oberon arched an eyebrow on his pale face as he stared at me. A short breath later, he spoke “If you wish for coin, I have none for you.”
“I have not come seeking coin, Your Highness.” I stated.
“All those who posed solutions sought coin but posed no actual solution.” His quiet voice carried through the whole chamber.
“I fear I might not have a solution.” I admitted.
“Then what are you here to give me? Hope?” His voice was bitter.
I just received word from Vlatrossi Melkinov as to what happened.” I explained.
“The snake.” He spat. “Oh course. And why has he sent you?”
“He has not sent me…” I told him. “I was supposed to meet with the princess shortly.”
“I’m supposed to believe that he didn’t send you after you spoke with him? Then again… you wouldn’t have mentioned him at all…”
“I…” I began.
“You’re Filandrel’s.” he cut me off. “She spoke fondly of you, I know who you are. That’s why we let you in.”
“I appreciate it… I don’t know how to say this…” I admitted. “But did she mention anything of what she’s been speaking to me about?”
“Yes. She said but two words before she succumbed… destroy it. Destroy it. And then she succumbed. I am not aware of where she sequestered it… likely with magic. Your master wants it. He feels it can save her.”
“He is…” I started to say, before the prince once again interrupted me.
“But why should I trust him, when she said to destroy it?”
“Forgive my lack of tact, I suppose… is this chamber completely private?” I asked, for what I was going to say was not for prying ears to hear.
“It is right now.” He stated.
“May I approach?” I asked.
When he bade me closer, I walked up to him. Odd that I would be able to approach so close without any guards surrounding him, or even watching from the sidelines. It was slightly unnerving.
“What else did Her Highness say?” I asked.
“She knew that she was short on time. She tried to take it north. The anvil was gone, it has been taken. So, we were unable to destroy it…” he said. “It seems to have been found by one, the murderer of Gaius Astoria. We don’t know where she is.” He admitted.
“May I ask you something personal?” I asked, hesitantly.
“Go ahead.” He wasn’t even bothering to hide the distress from his face or his tone.
“What is your relationship with my master?”
“He is my uncle.” The prince replied quietly. “Which is regrettable.”
I could smell a wood fire burning somewhere nearby. “What is that?” I asked, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach.
“Egig Ero Fa.” The prince said quietly, watching my face.
“What?” I was shocked. My gaze was drawn to the smoke rising through the stained glass window panes. “What is happening?” I demanded.
“My uncle is strongly suspect of treason.” He said calmly.
“So you’re burning Egig Ero Fa?” My voice sounded hollow, even to myself.
“Yes.”
“Why?!” I demanded. “Why blame the entire school for him?”
“There is evidence he attempted to murder my daughter.” The prince said quietly.
I could feel bile rising in my throat. “So you’re burning the whole school?”
“Either that, or the snake is playing both sides.”
“The snake is always playing both sides!” I snapped.
“Why would he tell us, though?” he asked. “He hates my wife. So, the snake, who hates my wife so much, somehow tips us off on the attempted murder of my daughter.”
“I am…” I began.
“And tells us…” Prince Oberon’s voice rose. “That your master, my uncle, was present when the dragon showed himself in the Empire. The dragon who seeks to end our very existence!”
“There is more to that…” I began.
“Right… of course you would apologize for him, that is his way…” he cut me off.
“Actually, I am not apologizing for him!” I interrupted harshly. “I have…”
“What does he want from you, exactly?” he demanded. “Because I know what he wanted from me… he wanted me to be a Prince.”
“I don’t know what he wants from me.” I admitted. “However, I have…”
“This is what he wants from you.” Oberon snapped. “You, standing here, finding some reason that he might be innocent.”
“Innocent of being the Pale Master?” I shot back.
“He’s not innocent of that, I don’t think…” he replied.
“He’s not.” I stated. “He told me so himself.”
“So you’re not siding with him?” he asked, seemingly surprised. “Or are you here to plead a case?”
“Would I be here if I was siding with him?” I demanded. Prince or not, this conversation’s line of questioning needed to end, and quickly.
“You’re either foolish or desperate.”
“I am…” I paused for a moment before continuing. For, as angry as I was, I had no desire to be banished, or worse… he was still the prince after all. “not very good a politics… I am not very good at people. I am good at one thing, and that is magic!”
“Then how do I save my wife?” he shouted at me, his voice reverberating in the rafters.
“I don’t know.” I told him truthfully. “I have come here to see if there’s anything I can do to help! And to see if I could meet…” words failed me for a moment, so I took a deep, steadying breath and continued. “I was going to be contacting her in the next couple of days to see if she would meet with me and allow me to take the staff fragments out into the East and attempt to destroy them out there… and perhaps use them to deal with the Decimator of Cities, or whatever the fuck that great black dragon is called who is currently wreaking havoc…”
My attention was drawn away towards a sundial in the center of the room, one that kept capturing the Prince’s attention. He kept looking back at it, as though every second of time was vital and he was afraid to miss it.
“I came to see if there is anything I can do.” I stated.
“Destroy it. You have to destroy it.” He said. “But where she hid it, I don’t know.”
“Did she say anything more about it?” I asked. “If there is any way to destroy it that isn’t with that anvil.”
“It would have to be destroyed, both parts… one inside the Dream, one outside the Dream.”
“This is what I was trying to ask her about…” I said quietly. “Is she… what is her state?”
“She’s unconscious. Resting.” He said.
“Is she… are you able to communicate with her through the Dream?” I asked.
“I’ve tried.” He admitted. “But the thing is, you never know who you’re going to get… thousands and thousands are in that Dream… I couldn’t find her.”
“Is there… forgive my lack of expertise on the subject… but she is in this condition because of the memories she should not bear, correct?” I asked.
He nodded. “And the witch, yes.”
“So is there a way to take the memories that she took out of the Well, and put them into a new Well?” I asked.
“If a new Well was created… you could use the staff to do such a thing, but she wants it gone… You can understand why this is a problematic situation for me…”
“I do not envy you.” I admitted.
“Other people do.”
“What about the rest of Egig Ero Fa?” I dared ask. “Why not just take it out on Filandrel instead of burning the whole school?”
“There will be different placements, there are other schools. And the eastern border is currently in trouble… we could use more mages there.”
“You want to send a bunch of students to another border conflict?” I asked, trying very hard to keep my voice civil.
“We don’t have a choice.” The prince stated plainly. “With the presence of the dragon, our borders must be secure.”
“What’s going on at the eastern border?” I asked skeptically.
“Madness.” He replied. “Alchemy. Treachery.”
“Treachery?” Damian’s lands are to the east…
“A turncoat imperial raising the dead, creatures born of alchemy, and somewhere in the dark, servants of dragons who are obsessed with the moon.”
He was silent for a time, as was I, for I didn’t know what to say. Finally, the prince broke the silence.
“My wife can be reached in the Dream… you have to find her. And pray that whoever finds you is sympathetic to your cause…”
“Have you tried?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What have you encountered?”
“Thousands, wandering, questioning. A lot of opinions…” he paused for a moment and I felt as though he was scrutinizing me. “Imagine walking into a forest where three thousand lost individuals are all asking you why they’re there…”
“What did you tell them?” I asked.
“I couldn’t tell them the truth…” his voice broke. “that they were trapped within the mind of my wife… that that’s all that’s left of them… a shade… it must be hell.”
“Isn’t everybody who dies trapped?” I tried to make my voice as calm and soft as I could.
“If not one way, then another.” He admitted.
As we talked, I began to think… if the prince, Anastasia’s husband who is bound to her by love and magic, cannot find her in the Dream… what chance would I have? By myself, it would be like searching for a needle in the sands of the desert… but perhaps, if I could find a guide of sorts… a fey who might be sympathetic… something to think on later…
“I’ve conversed with her in the Dream before…” I told the prince. “And I just ran into the one called Kyoko.”
“The witch.” He spat.
“And she stepped aside to let me reach the Princess…”
“Do you think she’d be able to do it again, if you find her? She’s not very sympathetic to my wife…”
“She wasn’t very sympathetic to anything…” I commented.
“Do you know anyone who is?” He asked. “Sympathetic to the witch, I mean…”
“Sympathetic to the witch?” I asked.
Oberon nodded.
I told Kent that I’d met someone named Kyoko and she had asked me to tell him hello. I thought that he might be happy, and might even want me to cast the dream spell on him so he could go talk to his friend again. But, when I offered to arrange for him to go talk to her, he flipped out.
“What you’re saying is that my friend never found peace!” He shouted at me. “Even when Anastasia killed her, she wasn’t able to find peace. Her whole life, she never found peace because people misunderstood and misjudged her because of what she is, without ever taking the time to get to know who she was. If there was ever someone who was misunderstood, its Kyoko. If there was ever someone who was unfairly judged, it’s Kyoko. And… if there was ever anyone deserving of finding peace… it… would… be… Kyoko!”
“Yes…” I nodded hesitantly. “Kent, the grippli.”
“You wish to have a grippli wander the Dream in search of my wife and his friend? Do you think he’d be capable of doing such a thing?”
“I don’t know…” I admitted. “It would be worth a try…” Even though there is a good chance that Kent would simply leave if I ever brought up the topic again.
I cautiously studied the prince’s countenance for a minute, finding myself wishing that I wasn’t alone, that someone far better at reading people had accompanied me…
“Do you have any guidance on where I might even begin to look for the staff fragments?” I asked.
“She continued to say sequestered, but she didn’t say anything else.” He admitted. “Where? Sequestered where?”
I asked if she would have opened a demi-plane. He didn’t know the answer to that either.
Finally, I couldn’t help myself anymore. I blurted out what I had been trying to avoid for most of this conversation. “Did you really have to burn down the entirety of Egig Ero Fa?”
“My wife’s personal library remains untouched.” He said as though that made up for burning the rest of the school. Of course he wasn’t going to destroy his wife’s personal library!
“You may peruse it if you feel like it has clues. There’s a teleportation circle there as well.”
I thanked him and made as if to leave before he stopped me.
“Would you be willing to take on a new role?” The prince asked suddenly, halting my retreat. “For your people.”
“What type of role?” I asked, skeptically.
“The role taken by your master.” He said implacably. “I wish you to replace Filandrel… You have time to think on it.”
“I’ve done everything I can think of to distance myself from politics…” I started to explain.
“It’s not a role to be taken lightly. Take your time to think on it.”
I was quiet for a minute before speaking again. “How are you going to handle Filandrel?”
“I will give him what he deserves.”
“Which is?…” I asked.
“He tried to kill my daughter.” He didn’t have to elaborate for me to know exactly what he meant. If it had been my child, I don’t think I would even be handling it as well as he is, even though, Egig Ero Fa is proof that the prince isn’t handling it well at all. But, I am not a parent, so fortunately for me, it is a concern that I needn’t worry about at this time.
“I have heard rumor that he may not be an elf at all.” I said, studying his reaction.
“It’s a theory.” He confirmed.
“If not, then what is he?”
“Something old. Something that maybe was an elf at one point… I understand that there are three, such ancient elves… Filandrel, the Pale Master, whatever he is. The Feathered Woman, who goes wherever she likes… who advises kingdoms for an age and then disappears just as quickly. The third, the axiomyte, the ancient arms maker… You have met all three.”
“Yes, the axiomyte is fading.” I admitted.
“And the feathered woman seems to act less and less each day.” Prince Oberon continued.
“What does it mean?”
“It means our people are dying.”
Did he have to make it sound so final? Surely there must be another way, something we can do to stop the current trajectory. “Our people came here, is it possible that we could go make a new world? Find a different place?”
“It is possible. Unlikely, but possible.” He sighed. “I have matters to attend to, but if you wish to see my wife’s personal library, my guard will allow you access.” The prince wished me luck and I departed.
I was tempted to go to Anastasia’s library, but bile rose in my throat in time with the smoke and ash rising from Egig Ero Fa. I needed to be gone from there. I needed to think. So I did… I left… teleported back to the party. The hour was growing late, but most of the party was still awake. They must have been having a difficult time sleeping.
I tried to meditate, but the proper state of mind is elusive… all I keep seeing is the smoke rising into the air, and the only scent in my nose is that of wood burning to ash. It is as though I can feel the flames licking the ancient wood, hear the cracking of the foundations of the place that I called home for so many years… I must stop now… I need to get some rest for tomorrow…
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that tomorrow we are going to Ysgard… the plane ruled by the Blood Lord. I cannot believe that I agreed to this… but Grimaldus wishes to seek sanctuary for his grandmother and Rhaego in that place… and Inira and Frida are insistent on speaking with Shard in person. Dekar is surprisingly quiet on the matter, although he made it obvious that he wishes to go.
I feel in my heart that this is a mistake, possibly a fatal one. I do not wish to even set foot in that realm, but I also cannot abandon my friends. Inira, Dekar and Grimaldus were with me when I first confronted Filandrel, they stood by me then… can I really do less for them now? What would that make me? I may have my fears, but I am not a coward. And I will not abandon my friends, any more than I would abandon Ravlor to an ill fate. I only hope that I am wrong in all of this, and that it won’t spell certain disaster…
Kurvajai and Conversations
1st of Camince, 1485
1st of Camince, 1485
Dawn saw the party moving about our separate routines. Grimaldus and Hasim were bathing in the river, Inira was talking with her sister, and it appeared that Secilia was trying to catch some fish. I decided to take the opportunity to get away for a time, and walked about the ruins, exploring the area around our camp some more.
The ruins show all signs of having once been a place of absolute beauty. Water runs through the crumbled stone, which still hold slight traces of gold and silver. Most of it appears to have been stripped by grave robbers long ago. But it is still absolutely beautiful, and the plants look like they were once hanging from the walls in fragrant splendor.
As I walked among the ruins, Meriwald seemed excited for the first time in some weeks. I soon found out why, however, as he was plotting out ways to do violence to Grimaldus.
“But aren’t you supposed to feel some of what I feel?” Now maybe I’d be able to get to the bottom of my familiar’s issues with Grimaldus… I had always felt as though our empathic link was strong enough that he should feel at least a bit of what I felt for Grimaldus.
“Yes.” Meriwald replied, exasperated. “And it’s gross.”
“Why is it so gross?” I asked. “You never had a problem with Ravlor…”
“Yeah, but Ravlor’s an elf.” He explained as though it should be obvious. I just looked at him until he explained himself. “Okay… so I’m an owl…” Meriwald said slowly. When I nodded my head, he continued. “And then there’s pidgeons…”
“Yeah…” I prompted.
“Owls are better than pidgeons.” He stated matter-of-factly. “So if I was to marry a pigeon… that’s really gross…. Elves are better than humans. You’re with a human… that’s gross.”
I just looked at him for a moment, a bit flabbergasted. “If you’re not careful,” he continued. “You’ll end up with a monster like Secilia.”
“Really?” I managed to say.
“Yeah, I mean, look at her… she’s hideous.”
I don’t know why it surprised me, but it did in a way. I never thought about it much in terms of Meriwald’s view, but I can see where he’s coming from. Once upon a time, I might have agreed with him, but I’d like to think that’s not the case…
The rest of our exploration was done in relative quiet after that, and when we arrived back in camp, Hasim, Inira and Frida were talking amongst themselves about how best to travel to Kurvajai with Grimaldus. I heard Frida say something about teleportation not being her specialty, to which Inira pointed in my direction and said “But it is hers.”
Hasim seemed pleased with whatever their idea was, commenting that Elves teleport out of the womb. What the fuck?
Finally being disabused of that ridiculous notion, Hasim filled me on in what they wanted to do. Apparently, he wanted to go to Wei Jang to purchase a listing of all of the teleportation circle coordinates for all of the circles in the area. Dekar wanted to go to Wei Jang for his own reasons, namely to see the axiomyte and give him the blackened heart that he picked up from the tree in Rafulkarn.
Dekar didn’t even have the decency to ask me to teleport to Wei Jang… he waited for Hasim to do so. I agreed to take them, everyone but Grimaldus, actually, for he is not welcome in Wei Jang, and I wasn’t willing to put him in needless danger over what is a useful errand at best. It was decided then that Grimaldus would make his way towards Kurvajai, and we would catch up with him later, after the business in Wei Jang was sorted out.
- - - - -
I made the preparations and cast the spell to teleport us to the axiomyte’s tower. We appeared inside a cage of sorts, obviously designed for those who would dare teleport inside his tower. We were greeted by a rather surprised wisp, who led us down the winding staircase towards the hammering sounds of the axiomyte at work.
When we got there, Hasim, Inira and Frida had some business with him and his wisps, and Dekar wished to speak with him in private. I do not know what they spoke of, but it was likely having to do with the weapon.
When the door opened and Dekar emerged, I went in. The axiomyte was sitting at his workstation, staring at the blackened heart. When I entered, he looked up. “You have a question.” He stated.
I asked him if the walls were sound proof.
“I can close the door.” He said with a chuckle. “They won’t be able to hear.”
“Yes, I learned that, thank you.” I didn’t care if I gave away that I’d been listening at the door, trying to hear his conversation with Dekar.
He asked what was on my mind, and I took a deep breath before beginning.
“So, I returned to Alcarin, and I spoke with Filandrel. And he told me that you spoke in half truths and you’re one of the worst individuals that my people have ever seen.”
“To them I am, yes.” He stated.
“However,” I continued. “He said something that was very concerning… and I thought I should ask you, seeing as you make magical artifacts…”
“Ask your question.”
“Is it true that our blood is lethal to dragons?”
“Yes.” He answered.
“How exactly does that work?”
“Humans can slather their weapons with our blood, and it would be hurtful to the dragons… its that simple, really.” His eyes were troubled.
“Do they know of this?”
“We have gone to many measures to hide it from them… and dragons haven’t been a problem until recently.”
“How much blood is required?” If it wasn’t too much… then perhaps I could think up some way to use it without anyone knowing…
“How much blood? It must be taken from the heart… you can see why this is a problem.”
“Yes…”
“In times of old, sorcerer kings like Mustafat sought to consume the hearts of elves and use profane magic so that they too could become weapons against the dragons.”
“Hence, Lara Durdain and the Staff of Changes, and the curse and all that?” I asked.
“Yes.” He confirmed.
“Do you think they’re going to start doing it again?” I asked apprehensively.
“I hope not.” He said. “I don’t know if we can hide it… not for much longer…”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Ask away…”
I motioned to the blackened cursed heart sitting on the axiomyte’s workbench. “Why are you doing this for him?”
“That one is a trickier question…”
“Even if he’s not delusional… he’s a human, and he’ll die and this weapon will linger on to be taken by somebody else…”
“To be possibly picked up by another?”
“Yes. And then another and another and another…”
“And then someone will eventually do the job.”
“Or eventually someone will take it and start laying waste to entire civilizations, or you know, the world.”
“We are living in a world that is bound to the will of entities that most of us can’t even fathom or understand. At the end of it, you have to consider… what do we do to persist in this doomed place? We have to try. It’s all we have.”
“Try what?” I asked.
“To make it better.” He said. “By whatever means we can.”
“And this is going to make it better?”
“It’s a tool. Weapons are tools.” He lectured. “Magic is a tool. Is Necromancy making the world better or worse?”
“Worse.” I stated without even thinking.
“That simple? Conjuration, better?” He arched an eyebrow. “A little biased, don’t you think? What about illusion? Or this matter of being able to divine things? Better or worse?”
When I didn’t have an immediate reply, he continued. “Now the real questions can be asked… it’s a tool… used by whom? Questionable, sure. But if he dies, when he dies, it can be picked up by another. Seeing that it does not fall into the wrong hands is a duty that lies upon everyone. For it is a tool that will surpass many others.”
“What is the cost?” I asked, knowing that for such a “tool”, the ramifications must be great.
“My life.” The axiomyte stated simply.
“Your life?!” I fought to temper my voice. “Your life and your knowledge is worth the creation of a tool?”
“It is either that, or to die under the weight of my own memories. My time is coming… whether I want it or not.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The magic that makes me eternal will die, with the last steps of honing such an object.”
“What’s the magic that’s making you eternal?”
“Lingering embers of a light that we once had.”
“So, you’ll use it all up?”
“If your lover was wielding it, would you think differently? Or is it because it’s someone you question? What if it was your master asking you to make such a thing? Would you question him?”
“Yes.” Of course I would question Filandrel.
“So what makes you trust him and not trust your friend?”
I don’t think he understood what I said… “I would question Filandrel.”
“But in the end, he would just seek to convince you. It is his way.” He wasn’t wrong, but Filandrel’s convincing wouldn’t work this time. “Why don’t you guide him, guide your friend?”
“He doesn’t listen to me.”
“Show him the way with patience.”
“I’ve never been very good at patience…” I said quietly.
The axiomyte’s gaze was drawn back to the blackened heart. “I have work to do.”
“Will we speak again?” I asked.
“Yes, we will. I’ll be sure of it.” I could see that the axiomyte was already working on his project in his mind, and I was dismissed. “Best of luck.” He said as I took my leave.
My mind was heavy as I took my leave. I think Inira spoke with the axiomyte, but my mind was elsewhere. I was more than ready to be away when Hasim and Frida returned.
When I teleported us back to Grimaldus, I was surprised to find that we were in a grassland, there was no desert to be seen. How he managed to make it this far is impressive, but not entirely surprising, seeing as this is his homeland, and he is definitely a man comfortable in the wilds.
He caught horses for us to ride, and fortunately we all were able to keep our seats. I rather like the scruffy mare that I rode, she has spirit.
A few hours into our journey, we came upon a gnome slaver with two human “indentured servants” and a broken down wagon. After some discussion, we agreed to fix the cart and let the two humans be on their way back to their homes. The gnome on the other hand? We didn’t kill him, nor did the two slaves… rather, Grimaldus knocked him unconscious and tossed him into a sack on the back of his horse. We were briefly attacked by some flying lizard creatures, but they were dispatched so quickly it is barely worth mentioning.
Just as the sun was beginning to make its descent toward the horizon, we came upon the gates of Kurvajai. It’s gate was nestled between statues of horses, and it appeared to be a sizable city comprised mainly of tents.
Everyone was announced when we passed through the gates, and all weapons were to be handed over. Apparently the use of magic is also forbidden in this place. The man at the gate asked everyone their names, except he barely glanced at Secilia and I, instead calling out “two Elf women, one dark of hair, one light of hair.”
Seriously? I muttered something under my breath about Secilia not even being an elf, and I think the couple party members who heard me mistook my meaning. Yes, Secilia is a half-elf. But there is more to being an Elf than having Elven parentage. She is currently so far removed from her Elven heritage, she doesn’t understand what it means in her heart to be Elven… it goes so far beyond merely the question of her parentage. Someday, perhaps she will take the time to learn more about it, but as of this moment, she has not.
Based on how the men were reacting to us, and how they were surprised that we are “free”, I asked Grimaldus about it, and he proudly told me that the women of his people are free to make their own decisions and pursue their own lives as they see fit, unlike the women in the west. He speaks as though it is an unusual concept, and for many humans, it seems to be. But, he was surprised when I told him that among the Elves, both genders are equal, and we are equally able to pursue what life we may desire… our lives are more bound by our station than our gender, but I wasn’t going to pursue that line of conversation further at this point… I was too busy looking around at this odd city where the buildings were intrinsically tied with tents of comparable intricacy.
We were met by one whom Grimaldus calls “cousin”, but I am not sure as to their actual relation… he seems decent enough, this Rhaego. In fact, he seems to be quite taken with Secilia… much to her consternation and the rest of our amusement. I, for one, hope that she allows herself some bit of diversion. It would do her much good if she would allow herself to let go just a little bit, for a short time. This Rhaego seems quite determined to win her affection in any way that he can, and I do find myself wishing him the best in that endeavor.
Grimaldus brought us to see an elderly woman whom he calls “Grandma”. His face lit up when he saw her, I think he believed she had died. “Grandma” is a shrewd old woman, and I believe she had the measure of the party within the first few minutes of meeting us. She had a veritable feast set out in honor of Grimaldus’ return. The food was delicious, I’ve never had such combinations of flavors.
Rhaego approached Secilia and asked what her favorite food is. She looked lost, so I whispered to her to tell him pastries, thinking of the flaky works of culinary art in Runestone – perhaps one of the best things to come out of that infernal place.
The old woman chastised Grimaldus that he was getting old and needed to settle down and get married. Meanwhile, she was eyeing Dekar the whole time – I think that, and the goatweed that he was served, was a direct correlation to Grimaldus pointing him out to her when we arrived.
My mind was drifting, preoccupied with other matters, when the old woman turned to Grimaldus and asked: “So… when are you going to take a wife?” She asked him again, more directly this time.
“Say what?” He was obviously caught off guard.
“A wife. Soon no one will want you.” She stated.
“I don’t know so much about that, Grandma…” Grimaldus chuckled.
“Oh… he thinks he’s eternal…” Then she looked around and asked who among us speaks or understands Yongrel. When I indicated that I can, she laughed and repeated her sentiment.
“Why should I get married, Grandmother?” Grimaldus asked.
“Well, legacy…” she replied, as though the answer should have been obvious. “Ehat is your legacy?
“My name is known far and wide.” He stated.
“And it two generations it will be forgotten…” she argued.
“Yes.” Grimaldus replied, earning a sigh from his “grandmother”. It was obvious that he was either mistaken, or else deliberately avoiding her line of questioning.
“No, it will not.” I interjected.
Hasim spoke up. “Yes, if he has children with the elf, they’re going to live a lot longer.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, rather shocked.
“Great idea!” She was practically rubbing her hands together in delight. “You should marry this elf. She seems intelligent…”
“I meant his memory will live on.” I said, although now the old woman was completely ignoring me as though I hadn’t spoken.
“You’ve always had a thing for intelligent women…” she continued. “Women who are smarter than you.”
“That’s easy to do.” Grimaldus admitted.
“Isn’t that most women?” Hasim asked with a smirk.
“Oh yes,” the old woman replied. “He has a thing for most women…”
When there was finally a short break in the chatter, I said “His memory will live on for centuries with my people…”
“That’s nice.” The old woman said placatingly. “But children… how many children can you have?” At my silence, she continued. “I’m asking a serious question… I’m old…”
Rhaego slid into the seat next to Secilia, but I didn’t hear what was said…
“How many children can you have?” That question echoed in my mind, haunting me. How would I explain to these people that I have no idea of the answer to that question? One? Two if I’m extremely fortunate? Hell, I might not even be able to have children – it isn’t a topic that I’ve spent much time considering, and even then… how do I explain to her the hardships of my people in conceiving and bearing children? Do I even want to start going down that rabbit hole? The answer is a resounding no.
Fortunately, I was spared any need to answer her question, or continue the conversation further, by the approach of sloshing footsteps, and the opening of the door to admit Rowan. She was soaking wet and covered in seaweed, and incredibly embarrassed by the mess that her muddy feet were making on the carpets…
Consequences
28th of Solae, 1485
28th of Solae, 1485
Last night was a wreck. It turns out that Rowan refused my teleport. I didn’t notice it at first, possibly because I was too concerned with ensuring that I brought us to the correct location and minimizing the risks of sending us into more danger… I didn’t want to miscalculate, or mishap in my casting and send us to the middle of the ocean, or something equally horrible. But regardless of my reasons, Rowan is not amongst us… I should have paid more attention to where the little gnome was, not that I could have forced her to come with us…
Inira thinks that Rowan stayed behind to tend to the tree, but I am not so sure… I fear that Rowan might have given up on us. She is so unabashedly good. Maybe she is unwilling to associate herself with people like us… and I use that sentiment in the most critical of ways… why would she? Rowan has no actual need of any of us to follow her goals… and I would be lying if I said that I am a good person.
I wish I was, and I’ve tried to be… but would a truly good person have ever done what I did in that Latrian village? Yes, it was a mercy… and that is what I tell myself, but is it really true? Was there no other way? And, if Hasim was able to hear my conversation with Dekar, then I am sure that Rowan did. It would hurt though, if she did leave partially because of that, and didn’t even talk to either of us first. I do hope that she would ask me about it instead of just assuming the worst…
I look around our camp and find myself relieved that we are all in one piece, and I trust that Rowan is taking care of herself, wherever she might be. Just when I was getting ready to conjure up the tiny hut and retire for the evening, Hasim approached me and asked if I know how to scry. I don’t know why I found it so surprising that he didn’t know that it’s a fairly rudimentary spell that nearly every competent wizard can cast, but I did. I shouldn’t have been surprised though, for I get the distinct impression that Hasim is about as familiar with the intricacies of magic as Secilia is with Alcarin politics…
I asked Hasim if the child had anything of Hasim’s in his possession… He and Inira were both insisting that I’d already met the child, so it was irrelevant. I do not think that either of them understood my purpose in asking… Yes, I have met the babe, and it would be a small task to scry on an infant… but that was not the purpose of my questions… for, I wanted to instead attempt to scry on the items through Hasim. Finally, Hasim told me that he had given the child the letter he wrote, and tied that letter around the nail he used to cut the babe out of his wife’s body. A grim gift to be sure, but it would serve my purpose…
I pulled out the mirror that I had acquired from Gaius of Astoria when we were in Runestone for the coronation of Damian’s late sister, in exchange for the original copy of one of Gaius’ ancestor’s writings. I had already made a copy of the work, so the originality was of little import to me. Gaius, however, valued it enough to trade me a gorgeous silver mirror, that has since become my means of scrying.
Within a few moments, a scene coalesced in the mirror… a small babe, wrapped in a piece of snakeskin leather, was sitting up in a cradle. I was surprised to see the baby sitting so soon, and when I asked Hasim, he said that it isn’t normal for either human or yuan-ti babies… apparently the little guy is an unusually strong baby. Grimaldus seemed very pleased, and not surprised, because he did dedicate the child to his dead god, after all.
I moved the scrying sensor out, away from the baby, to show the room and building that the child was staying in. There was an elderly human couple in the room, and judging by the interactions, they appeared to be caring for the child. It looked like a fairly safe environment, in what appeared to be the outskirts of a city.
Grimaldus and Hasim said that the location was in the outskirts of the city, Antelya… and the couple are on the outskirts because men are not allowed in the city at all… apparently it is a city ruled and peopled entirely by women. The only men that they allow into their city are prostitutes, and that is only for a limited time. It is a foreign concept to me… why would you want a place that entirely excludes one gender, but then again, many human customs seem odd to me still.
Hasim was visibly relieved to find his child well and safe enough for now. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but the baby is in possession of items that belong to Hasim… I warned him that there is a very good chance that those individuals who are hunting him can just as easily find his child through the same means as I had. Oddly, he didn’t seem terribly concerned about that possibility.
A cold wind blew through, rustling the leaves. A crackling, booming noise cut the air. A swirling, black mass appeared, slowly coalescing into the body of a man, wearing a tattered black cloak and black spectacles on his face. He would have been unmistakable even without his long, flowing white hair… Vlatrossi Melkinov.
Oh fuck. There could be a myriad of reasons why he could have decided to make an appearance… and none of them were good…
“Greetings, Melkinov.” I called out, as he floated his way over to our camp. I stepped out, dropping the spell around the camp.
“Hello.” He said, extending his arm with a half smile. “It is good to see you.”
I took his hand and asked why he was here. His familiar, the white snake, slithered its way out of his sleeve, and I could feel Meriwald’s instant revulsion.
“I wanted to see how the Black Wind had affected you, and it seems you’re okay. I tried to dispel it from a distance.” Vlatrossi said.
“What?” Hasim asked.
“You did not notice?” Vlatrossi sounded surprised.
“Were you keeping an eye on us, or keeping an eye on Hatholdir?” I asked.
“I was trying to kill Targileus.” He stated matter-of-factly.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because, it is an acquisition I wanted.”
“You want Rafulkarn?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Why?… it is a cursed place!” I exclaimed.
“Not anymore.” Vlatrossi stated. “The risk we took was calculated, but Hatholdir knew.”
“He actually knew?”
“All along, yes.”
“So that entire suspicion we had about there being some other plot behind all of this… that was this?” Hasim interjected.
“No… The merchants are corrupt. Delanius will be next.”
“Hasim,” I introduced. “Vlatrossi Melkinov; Vlatrossi, Hasim.”
“His Excellency, Vlatrossi Melkinov.” He interrupted.
“Sorry, his excellency…”
“I was able to dispel the Black Wind. You were able to succeed. Very minimal risk and almost no losses. I wanted to see that you were unharmed and unchanged.” Vlatrossi explained.
“Unchanged how?” I asked, unsure of what he was referring to exactly, and apprehensive of where his explanation was going to go, considering his own unenviable condition…
“The Black Wind changes individuals who may have strange dreams or feelings that are unfamiliar, or if you’re touched by magic, permanent changes.” He continued.
“He looked at me when he said that…” Hasim looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Why did he look at me when he said that?”
Ignoring Hasim, I commented that I do not need any more dreams.
“No, of course not.” Vlatrossi chuckled. “But they are an unfortunate truth in this world.”
“Yes…” I started to say, but Vlatrossi interrupted me.
“The Princess has also fallen ill.”
“What?” I felt as though my stomach just dropped out of my body.
“Yes.” Vlatrossi confirmed.
“What of the child?” I asked, panic setting in.
“The child is safe.” He confirmed.
“Where is the Princess?”
“In Alcarin… she was afflicted with World Weary… are you familiar with this?”
I shook my head, so he explained. “World Weary is something that afflicts particularly old Elves. It is something that happens when Elves grow very old, in the rare cases that they live over a thousand years… their minds in this world start to collapse under the weight of all of their memories… they start to relive old moments and go mad.”
“She is too young…” I breathed.
“I know.” Vlatrossi said, before confirming my suspicions. “She is too young for it, you’re right… the Well…”
“Fuck…”
“She’s asleep… suspended until it can be treated.” Vlatrossi explained. “But you and I both know that there is no cure for World Weary… it is not a disease… it is a condition of the mind. And the only way to do it would be to rid her of her memories… you understand what a conundrum it is…”
I shook my head. “If you rid her of her memories, you’d be ridding the world of the memories of three thousand elves…”
“Yes.” Vlatrossi confirmed. “I wanted to talk to you about what was the last thing you spoke with her about… what would cause this to trigger? Was there anything that would, perhaps, aggravate the condition? Anything she was looking into?”
I took a deep breath before replying. “Let me ask you something… along the same vein of the conversation we had back in Crastvongrad…” I asked. “Are you lying to me?”
“You wouldn’t even be able to tell if I was.” Vlatrossi said coldly. “You don’t have a choice.”
Much as she did when I spoke with Filandrel on the banks of Yaharghul, Inira chimed in, saying that Vlatrossi wasn’t giving a reassuring answer.
“I don’t mean to be reassuring. I’m being factual.” He snapped. “If I was not telling her the truth, she wouldn’t be able to tell, and it would be for her protection. If I wanted to take an answer from her, I could extract it from her.”
“I get very tired of hearing that…” and I do… I have grown to appreciate the sentiment behind it, but I do grow tired of people in power thinking they are “protecting” me by withholding information. “I don’t know exactly what she was looking into…” I too have learned a bit on how to withhold information. “Many things… she was supposed to meet with me.” I admitted
“With the approach of this dragon, it is very likely that Runestone will be plunged into one of two things… either a civil war, or they will seek to subjugate everything that is not human.”
Inira didn’t know about the dragon, so she asked, and Vlatrossi explained that the dragon of the west, the betrayer has reemerged and is going to claim the advisor’s seat that legend says has been held empty for his eventual return.
“Wait…” Hasim asked incredulously. “You guys revere him?”
“No!” I spat out. “We do not revere him.”
“Men do.” Vlatrossi stated.
“Men are weak.” I muttered.
“It is a saintly creature…” Vlatrossi explained.
“In the east, he is…” Hasim explained, “…not a saint.”
“Men revere very… misbegotten ideals.” I said, then turning to Vlatrossi, I conceded. “Apologies.”
“I was never religious.” Vlatrossi brushed it off. “My father was.”
“So, she was looking into things and you were talking to her…” Vlatrossi returned to the important conversation at hand.
“Yes. She was supposed to meet with me.” I admitted.
“About what, exactly? I don’t understand. Why would she come out here?”
“I was possibly going to go to her, but she offered to come out here.”
“Is there something you were looking for? Some research?”
“She has something…”
“An item?”
I ignored his question and continued. “Something that I gave her and I asked her if I could borrow it back for a time…”
“I see… perhaps it was not triggered by your conversation… perhaps she was looking into something similar to it, or related to it…” he paused. “This only bodes more questions. You understand that this dragon in the east is a problem as well?”
“Yes.” I confirmed. “That is why I contacted her in the first place…” I shrugged. “This is what I get for wanting a break…”
“There is no such thing as a break for people like us.” Vlatrossi said wearily.
“Valeria says that you’ve become quite a capable group…”
Inira asked how he knows the woman who runs with a pack of wolves. “She is an old friend.” Vlatrossi explained. “We fought a necromancer together… she knew Articus as well…”
“How is he doing?” I asked.
“That thing is not Articus.” Vlatrossi insisted. “That thing is the idea of Articus. But Articus is dead.”
“Anastasia would disagree.” I said quietly.
“Anastasia and I rarely agree on many things…” Vlatrossi admitted. “But, you have to understand that her condition bodes insecurity, a lack of stability across the sea… I cannot have that.”
“What are you implying?” I asked, guardedly.
“I’m implying that it is likely that a war will brew, if the Empire seeks to save itself. Either that, or it will collapse under its own weight.” Vlatrossi said. “Neither is convenient.”
“What is Damian’s role in all this?” Inira asked.
“Your friend has to take a side, depending on the side that the throne takes… he will either side with the dragon, or against it. And it’s not a simple proposal either… if he knows what’s good for him, he will become friends with this thing…” Vlatrossi explained. “The dragon seeks war, with everything that is not men or willing to be subjugated.”
“Why is that?” Inira asked.
“It’s motives are unknown to me.” Vlatrossi admitted. “I learned of Anastasia’s condition when I tried to reach her. To speak and see what we could concoct in regards to this creature.”
“How did you try to speak to her?” I asked.
“I went to Alcarin.” He stated, as though it were obvious.
“Have you tried to talk to her in the Dream?” I asked.
“I am not privy to such a thing, and if I was to use prying means, I don’t think I’d be welcome…”
“No prying means… but that’s why you cast it and then you ask Kyoko if you can talk to Anastasia…” I explained.
“That woman is not fond of me.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I commented. “So why are you here?”
“I am here to see if there were any answers… that and the matter of the Black Wind, of course. Lastly, I wanted to ask what your plan was in regards to the dragon. It attacked Wei Jang. It was fought off, but it was a test of strength. Even then, it still managed to slay thousands…”
“We are apparently not welcome in Wei Jang.” I admitted.
“Because of the thing you carry, correct?” Vlatrossi said, looking straight at Grimaldus and his mace sitting conspicuously within his reach. “Do you understand the implications of the thing you bear?”
“Yes…” Grimaldus stated implacably.
“The dragon seeks to be reunited with its mother, by whatever means…” Vlatrossi began, seemingly expecting a different response from Grimaldus.
“It will pursue you… if I was able to find you, chances are the creature already knows where you are, it’s merely waiting for an opportunity.”
“Oh…” Hasim said sarcastically. “Give it enough time, I’m sure Grimaldus will be using that mace to do a lot of reuniting between the two of them…”
The rest of the conversation devolved into banter between the men, before Vlatrossi had enough and bade us goodnight. He teleported out, and I was left with my thoughts… none of which were pleasant.
Rafulkarn
27th of Solae, 1485
27th of Solae, 1485
We survived. That is what is important. The blackened heart that was corrupting the tree has been removed, and Rowan was able to begin the healing process for the ancient wood. I do not know how much detail I shall write this night, for my wounds are still paining me, and we are all exhausted. I need some deep meditation this night…
Last night with Grimaldus was a much welcome reprieve, and it renewed me to be able to better face today’s plan to enter the cursed city. When we arrived back in camp, I found Meriwald strutting about, carrying a knife strapped to himself with a piece of cloth, and a piece of metal perched atop his head like a helmet. He immediately started cursing and catapulting things at Grimaldus.
Finally, I got Meriwald reigned in somewhat, at least enough for us to set off for the city.
As we drew nearer to Rafulkarn, I could see the massive dead tree rising above the city. Its blackened branches extended out and across the breadth of the city wall, silhouetted against the drab morning sky. I was surprised to find homes on the outskirts, with fires burning in their hearths, it almost looked peaceful in a way… until the ghoul burrows covering the ground rose in prominence.
Hatholdir and his contingent of Elves were already circling the walls, using the tactic common on the eastern borders of Alcarin, wherein movement is used to make one warrior seem like many. I didn’t know how effective it would be against armies of the undead, but it works well enough against living men…
I could see the remains of Elvish architecture in the foundations. Humans had built their massive walls atop the Elvish ruins and it was painfully obvious where the delineation was… instead of flowing with nature, the human builders had broken the land, twisted and bent it, forcing it to serve their purpose instead of working in harmony with it. The land had been violated, desecrated and abused; and I found myself hoping that our actions would be of a help here. I found myself hoping that Rowan would actually be able to heal some of the land, restore the balance and peace that is to be found in nature.
I was jolted from my thoughts when we arrived at the city. Hasim scaled the wall and threw a rope down for the rest of us. I wish that I had been more comfortable casting a spell for us to simply pass through the wall unhindered, but with the unpredictable Black Wind in the area, and the apparent unpredictability of magic because of it, we all decided that it was best not to risk it.
Before I climbed the wall, I told Meriwald to wait in the outskirts. When he wasn’t cooperative, I did something that I’ve never done in my entire life… I dismissed him. I didn’t know what we were walking into, and I didn’t want to risk one of the vampires targeting him with a spell… As he disappeared with a slight poof sound, a lone feather floated down. I put it in my pouch, and tried to put aside the yawning emptiness in my mind that comes from his absence… I reminded myself that this was not the same as when I lost him in Latria… and put my hands on the rope to climb the wall.
When I reached the other side of the wall, the sheer magnitude of what we were attempting hit me… and for what purpose? I steeled myself with the knowledge that in the city’s center was the dead and twisted ancient tree that Rowan would be able to restore.
Sewage and grime covered the street we landed on… Sentry skulls were placed throughout the alley, and Hasim glanced at my bow and asked to borrow it…
I hesitated. Inira offered Hasim her crossbow, but he refused it, looking at me expectantly. I reluctantly pulled it off of my back, and as I held it out to him, I couldn’t help myself “Five shots, then you give it right back to me.”
“Of course.” Hasim looked confused. “It’s not cursed, is it?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. No, it’s not cursed.”
As Hasim took it from my hands, I was reminded of when it was handed to me, many years ago…
I had just received word that my classmates and I would be stepping through the Diluvian mirror to hold a tower by the Twin Rivers. It was the first time that I would be able to directly help the Union efforts against the undead… we were departing at first light the next morning.
I was leaving Egig Ero Fa to go see my parents that evening. Ravlor met me outside the gates. I could tell that something was wrong, but when I asked him, he merely shook his head. He carried two bows and two quivers with him that night… unusual, but I soon learned why when he pressed a bow and quiver into my hands. “Take this.” He bade me.
I looked at him incredulously. Why would I need a bow?
“Take it!” He insisted, his voice raised. “There will come a time when your magic will fail, and you will want to have a real weapon in your hand. Take the bow!”
Ravlor had been right. That bow had saved my life the next day, when I could no longer cast my spells, and blood was dripping from my nose from magical overload… the bow hadn’t failed me… and I haven’t entered a battle without it ever since…
Hasim is an expert shot. I assumed that he would be, but it was still pretty impressive that he managed to take out all of the sentries without triggering any noticeable alarms.
A swarm of rats coalesced into a vampire. He was hideous, seeming to be made out of rats. He introduced himself and began talking to the party. He was being formal and polite, first in Yongrel, then switching to Imperial. He requested that we leave, as the undead here are trying to live their own lives. I honestly wasn’t paying too much attention to his words, as I figured most of them were likely lies.
Inira denied that we were there intending to kill the Lord Commander Targileus. I don’t know why she decided to lie about her intentions. Dekar though, he basically threatened the vampire until he started a fight.
Before I even had a chance to move, the vampire’s sword came flying at me. I threw up a shield, but the blade passed right through my hasty defense, and searing pain wracked my body, doubling me over. Fuck, that hurt! I looked down and could see a red stain growing across my side. The rest of the battle passed in somewhat of a blur. Rowan turned into a giant eagle, and Grimaldus again rode on her back. He got stabbed, but he managed to grab ahold of the vampire and lift it in the air by his throat.
The vampire managed to bite Grimaldus, and I felt a momentary panic until Grimaldus held his mace aloft and cast a spell that blasted blinding rays of sunlight in the vicinity.
Grimaldus, Inira and Secilia healed our wounds and we continued into the city. Hasim went his own way, for the vampire had told him where he could find the woman he was hunting – apparently she had been captured by the vampire some time earlier.
As we moved through the city, Secilia said there was something that she needed to do, and she disappeared down a descending corridor going somewhere deep underground. Thorny vines closed over the entrance as soon as she passed through, effectively making it impassible if anyone wanted to go help her later. To be perfectly honest, I figured that we would likely never see her again…
Rowan offered to take us to the tree, through using her druidic ability to transport people through trees. We stepped through the passageway that she opened in a nearby tree root, and I found myself standing on a platform with Hasim, Inira and a massive vampiric monstrosity that was obviously Targileus.
Rowan was far below us, by the roots of the tree. I didn’t see Grimaldus or Dekar anywhere, until I looked up and saw that they had appeared in the upper branches of the tree.
I backed away from the undead monstrosity, casting mirror image on myself, which fortunately went off properly this time. I have rarely been more scared in my entire life. The party was scattered, and I was altogether too close to this Targileus…
The fighting was fierce. The creature moved up into the air as Grimaldus and Dekar jumped down, fortunately Dekar cast featherfall, so they wouldn’t plunge to their deaths. Inira was engaged in a shouted conversation with the woman who claims to be her “sister”. I write it like that because Inira doesn’t seem to have any knowledge of this woman.
I could hear Rowan having some trouble far below, and Dekar jumped down the crevice to try to aid her – I hoped that he would get there in time. My attention, however, was wholly focused on surviving the giant undead in front of me… he kept buffeting us with his wings, but then when Grimaldus drew nearer, he launched up into the air and he and Grimaldus fought an aerial duel.
Targileus managed to knock Grimaldus to the ground and nearly landed on top of him. I felt the world slow down as my heart dropped into my stomach… Grimaldus was barely moving and blood was smeared across his armor and seeping onto the dais. Without even thinking, I ran forward, brushing his arm as I cast a spell of greater invisibility. As Grimaldus disappeared from sight, the undead monster looked down at us.
“Is this love?” He scoffed. “Disgusting.” I could see the promise of death in his eyes, the sick glee that evidenced a disturbing spark of life. But, he wasn’t expecting me to have an exit strategy, so when I cast misty step, I almost wished that I could have seen his face when I robbed him of what he thought was going to be a kill.
Everything was a blur. Secilia materialized next to us, and we ended up defeating Targileus, as evidenced by the fact that I am alive, writing this now…
Dekar grabbed the blackened heart out of the tree, and promptly fainted. Rowan said that she was able to heal the tree, it would just take time for the corruption to work its way out…
However, I found myself with a sense of déjà vu, as everything began crumbling around us. I called everyone over so I could teleport them out, and again, asked for suggestions for our destination… I do not think the others would have been pleased had I teleported them all to Alcarin… Grimaldus told me to take everyone to the ruins of the blue light, so I did.
Now that everyone has had some time to rest, I summoned Meriwald back to me… and I feel as though what I did has driven a wall between us. I owe him an apology. I should never have taken away his choice like I did, and even though he is my familiar, and bound to my will, he is first and foremost my friend and constant companion… I did him an ill turn this day, and it is something that I need never repeat again… not on the eve of a battle…
Targileus’ words keep echoing in my mind. “Is this love?” … is it? Truly? I told myself in the past that it isn’t… that I’m merely infatuated with him… but then I find myself not even hesitating to throw myself in harm’s way to save Grimaldus. I did it in Alfarid against the snakes… and I just did it again, against the vampiric monstrosity… and yes… I pulled Hasim out of a dire situation on the bridge some days ago, but it was different…
Getting Hasim out was a calculated decision where I had a plan going in. Grimaldus? Every time I see him severely injured, I feel an overwhelming urge, a nearly visceral need to see him out of harm’s way, regardless of the cost to myself…
So, I must admit to myself, if to no one else… I fear that I am in love with Grimaldus… what this will spell for the future, I do not know, aside from a near guarantee of pain… but for now, whatever may come, for now, we are together… and this place of porcelain ruins and blue light is truly beautiful…
I am going to clean myself and rest now… for I do not wish to meditate when I still have blood encrusting my garments…
The Beauty of the East
26th of Solae, 1485
26th of Solae, 1485
I am writing this in one of the most beautiful and peaceful places I have ever been. Grimaldus is sleeping beside me as I write. I am very happy that we were able to steal this night away, when it very well may be our last. I am aware that I have written that many times over these past few months, the past year, really. But it doesn’t change that I honestly do not see how any of us are going to come out of this alive…
These ruins are a beautiful place… they prompt many thoughts and feelings that I haven’t felt in some time… I feel at peace in this place… as if the nature and the ruins welcome me here.. But, rather than go too far down this path now, I suppose I should write about how I came here on this night…
When we had made camp, I was preparing to cast my nightly ritual to protect the camp, but Meriwald flew over and insisted that he could do it himself. So, he did. I guess he must have learned it in the recent weeks, because I haven’t seen him cast it before. The spell went off, and he strutted around, wanted everyone to see his “Teeny Hut” or “Mini Hut”, he couldn’t decide which.
Grimaldus was sitting next to me, and he leaned back, saying. “I grow tired of this place.”
“You do?” I was actually surprised, he seemed to be pretty pleased ever since we left the continent. “I’ve been tired of this place ever since I showed up…”
“Because you haven’t seen what this place actually has to offer…” he said quietly.
“This place?”
“The east.” He explained. “We’ve gone from shithole to shithole. And that’s saying something, because I’ve lived in some shitholes.”
“So… what do you mean, I haven’t seen what the east has to offer?” I wondered what he was talking about, because he’s been talking about what the east has to offer ever since we were traveling in Latria…
“There is a place far to the east, at the edge of the desert. The ruins of a kingdom so old it no longer has a name. Untouched by corruption.”
“Why have you not told me of this before?” I asked quietly. “Why did we not go there?”
“Then why don’t we?” He offered.
I looked out across our camp towards the cursed city in the distance. “We’re about to walk into a shithole.”
“We have eight hours.” Grimaldus pointed out.
I pulled out the intricate mirror that I’d acquired in trade from Gaius of Astoria. Setting it down, I scried on the location that Grimaldus described.
When I gazed into the mirror, the image coalesced into a sunset setting a blue mountain range aglow in hues of red and orange. A river flowed down from the mountains into a valley of sorts. Willow trees draped over the banks of streams, and birch trees formed peaceful groves in the evening light. It was truly breathtaking.
“Do you think we can go?” I asked, trying to keep the wonder out of my voice.
“Let’s go.” Grimaldus said. “You can teleport, can you not?”
“Yes…” I admitted. “I’ve just never teleported to somewhere I’ve never been…”
“Have you ever seen a wall that’s made of pure porcelain rock?” He prompted. “That glows blue in the sunlight?”
That was all the coaxing that I needed to hear. “Ok.”
I called to Meriwald, telling him that I would be back by the morning. I bade him to keep the rest of the party safe until I returned.
I cast teleport. I think I heard Dekar make a sarcastic quip about me telling Meriwald to protect them… but I ignored it. It’s not like Dekar can cast a spell to protect the entire camp for the night anyways…
That was surprisingly, the most calm teleportation spell that I have ever cast…
I found myself standing in an ancient ruin, the blue stone covered in overgrown moss and lichen. Everything was lit in hues of indigo and orange. The white trunks of the birch groves appeared to nearly glow with the reflected light. Streams wove through the ruins and groves, connecting with the river and then splitting off again to follow meandering paths through the sloping terrain.
As I looked out across the horizon, I could see the sands of the desert begin, its borders mingling with the green of the trees and the blue of the ruins and the mountainous backdrop. The sun was setting behind the dunes. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights that I’ve ever seen in my century and a half of life… the shifting sands, the trees, the mountains, and the porcelain ruins all in one place.
When I finally found my voice, I spoke. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“This is the east that I spoke of.” Grimaldus said quietly as he stood behind me. “I come here to remind myself how small I am in the grand scheme of things.”
“Really?” The beauty of this place left me breathless.
I could feel him nod at my back. “We go from battle to battle, from site to site, from world ending event to world ending event… it is nice to have no responsibilities.”
“Yes…” I agreed.
“This desert is over five thousand years old…”he began.
“The same age as Filandrel.” It took me a moment to realize what I had just said. “Sorry.” Dammit Inara, really?
“You’re fine.” At least Grimaldus brushed it off as if I hadn’t brought it up.
“This is beautiful…”I said.
“That desert will never look the same come tomorrow.” Grimaldus explained.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the dunes…” he motioned out over the sands. “The wind will come in the morning and it will never look like that again.”
“Hm. I guess I’d never thought about it like that.” And it struck me that I hadn’t. I’ve never looked out at a similar sight and felt like I would never see it again, unless I wasn’t alive for it, that is. But he is right, the world is ever changing. As much as my people so often like to hold onto the past, and keep everything the way it always has been… we cannot… and it is often difficult for many Elves to come to grips with that truth.
“We could get killed tomorrow…” he began.
“We could.” I agreed. “We likely will…”
“You don’t have to.” Grimaldus said suddenly. “The same way we came here, you could get out.”
“I could…” I admitted.
“You should.” He insisted.
“Why?”
“Because, you are how old?”
“One hundred fifty three.” I answered.
“How old is your… what is he to you? Father… father figure?”
“My actual father is about six hundred.” Grimaldus had never inquired about my parents before.
“And Filandrel is how old?”
“At least five thousand… I haven’t really figured it out yet.” Now who was bringing up Filandrel? Maybe I wasn’t doing too bad with it after all…
“So you have at least 4700 years ahead of you…”
“Most of my people don’t live that long…” I was quick to explain.
“Why is that?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
“The world here… I don’t know…” How to describe what has been happening with my people in the past centuries, millennia, since we came over from the First World? “Magic is fading. My people are fading, slowing dying. There are less children born every year.”
“Why is that?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” I tried not to let despair seep into my heart at the thought.
“You have the opportunity to live long enough to change that.” Grimaldus said confidently, with conviction. “That is something your friend Dekar does not understand… but I admire his courage and his, hope. But, at the end of the day, he is still young… Every god that came before thought that he could do the same thing. They cannot… he will likely obtain his goal, he is capable of it. But what he does not understand is that when the next village needs to be slaughtered, he will not hear it, in the same way that the gods did not. They are not omnipotent. He gives them too much credit… it’s not that they don’t care, it’s that they know as much as he does. As I do. They’re just stronger…”
“But you…” he said, looking over to me, “can live long enough to actually affect change.”
“So you would see me leave all of you to die?…” I refused to believe that he was suggesting that of me.
“No.” Grimaldus replied quickly. “When we’re all dead, you leave. We’ll likely be dead by the time that happens. Let’s be honest here… Hasim… we probably won’t even see him die… he’ll go ahead and not come back, because that’s what he does, and he’s very good at it.” He paused, nodding as he continued. “And he is of the East… he will be happy dying that way.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I am forty-three… in a profession where most people die in their twenties…” he said quietly. “Let’s be honest, I’m on borrowed time as it is…”
“So why don’t you leave?”
“I just did.” He stated simply, either not knowing, or choosing not to acknowledge, that I wasn’t referring to simply this night.
“Yes, but…” I started to say, but then stopped myself and shifted my thoughts. “Something I don’t understand, no matter how much time I’ve spent around humans… what is it that you leave behind when you’re gone? Everything that humans make just turns to ruins.” I motioned around at the ruins surrounding us. “Then they die and they fade from memory, and the only things that are left are the ruins.”
“That’s the beauty of it…” Grimaldus replied quietly. “Everything is more beautiful because it fades away. Because we’re mortal. I will not live for five thousand years to see any of this come around again. I will never be here, looking at this sight again.” He pointed out to the desert. “I will never have this moment with you again.”
“Oh.” I didn’t really know how to reply to that.
After a moment of silence, Grimaldus spoke again. “Why don’t you bring your people here?”
“What?” I was surprised.
“Survive this place.” He stated. “Bring your people here.”
“My people would love it here…” I breathed.
“Then bring them here.” Grimaldus was insistent.
“It’s more complicated than that…” I tried to explain.
“It doesn’t have to be. Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one.”
“Yes…” I began, but he continued as though I hadn’t spoken.
“And I would die happy, knowing that I left the memory of this place for your people to come to…”
“I would prefer you not to die at all.” I can barely believe that I admitted that aloud.
“It will happen inevitably anyway…” he began.
“I know.” I interrupted bitterly. “As I am constantly reminded.”
“So take advantage of the time we have. As I said, we will never be here again…”
As I looked up at him, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my lips.
So now I write this, sitting amongst these beautiful ruins, looking out across the night, and thinking about the man beside me. He is right… his death is inevitable, and far sooner than my own… sometimes the thought of it overwhelms me, when I let myself stop and think for a time. Someday he will die. Grimaldus will be gone and the only thing that will remain will be my memories.
“Are you in love?” Ravlor asked me when last we spoke. I didn’t know how to reply then, and perhaps I still don’t… or I simply am trying not to admit it to myself, for if I am, indeed, in love with Grimaldus… what is to come of it? Is it truly worth it, or am I setting myself up for centuries of pain for a few brief years of happiness?
But, as I look at him sleeping peacefully next to me, his face relaxed in sleep, I find myself wanting to lay beside him, to feel his arms wrapped around me, the future and consequences be damned…
On the Road to Rafulkarn
25th of Solae, 1485
25th of Solae, 1485
We set out on the backs of the rochallar that Hatholdir provided. I am not familiar with the beasts, so I thought it best to ride with someone. I was going to ride behind Grimaldus, but Dekar offered me a seat on his mount, and it made me pause, wondering why he would ask such a thing instead of taking Inira with him. I soon learned though, as he made it very obvious that he wanted to talk… I suppose I am not used to Dekar being the talkative sort, as my only serious discussions with him have always been of my own prompting.
As we rode, the weather turned for the worse, with black mist forming swirls, that phenomenon known as the black wind. Dekar asked me how I am holding up.
I tried to avoid the topic, because frankly, I was in no mood to discuss it… I’ve been trying, and failing, to put it from my mind as we approach Rafulkarn. But, Dekar persisted. “I know how you feel about the undead, and this place, so I just wanted to see how you’re holding up. I don’t think many of the others know, or care perhaps, but I wanted to check up on you.”
I thanked him and said that I’m here, and not dead, so I suppose I’m doing fine.
Then he asked if I’ve spoken with Ravlor lately… I don’t know where he was going with it, but of course I’ve been in occasional contact with Ravlor… at least enough to keep tabs on him and make sure he hasn’t gotten himself captured again or something. Not even to mention that we are currently about to assault an undead city.
I told Dekar about Doodles nearly being taken by a bull shark, but that he was fine. He laughed at that, probably picturing it the same way I had when Ravlor told me.
Seeing as Dekar seemed to be in a talkative mood, I decided to ask him a question of my own… one that has been burning in my mind ever since our disagreement outside the axiomyte’s tower…
“What is your plan? With the sword, with all of this?” I motioned towards our surroundings, at the city in the distance that holds one of the grotesque artifacts he seeks.
When he didn’t have a straight answer for me, I continued, asking: “You do realize that you’re following Shard’s path, right?”
Dekar nodded. “It did occur to me recently, that’s why I’m going to turn down Inira’s offer to turn me… I don’t want to follow that path.”
“She loves you, you know.” I told him.
“I know. I love her too. I’m just afraid of what’s happening.”
“Afraid?” I asked. Since when has Dekar ever admitted to being afraid of anything?
“I don’t want to follow his path, obviously, but so far I don’t know how to get off of it.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know how to get off of it? Stop!”
“It’s not that easy at this point… I can’t just not do anything.”
“So do something different.” I insisted.
“Like what?” He laughed wryly. “Go be a peaceful farmer? Start a life?”
“Stop trying to pursue world-ending weapons.”
“I’m not trying to end the world. In fact, I’m trying to do the opposite. But it feels like those with power are not doing anything.”
“Have you ever considered that sometimes, the people who are trying to live a good life are the ones doing something?” I asked.
“What are they doing?”
“Making the world a better place. It’s the little things that make the world a better place, a little bit at a time.”
“Like that village that we had to slaughter because they all became infected?” Dekar asked harshly.
“Really? Really Dekar?” I asked as unbidden memories flashed in my mind. The village burning, people running around covered in the black substance that would, and for some, was already, turning them into beasts.
“What were they doing?” Dekar continued. “They were doing nothing. More importantly, why did no one come in to save them?”
“We tried!” I retorted, my voice louder, and carrying further than I was expecting. And we had tried… we did… the faces of that small family rose in my mind. The two children clinging to their mother, the woman begging me with tears in her eyes that she would do anything, if I would please save her children. The smell of their flesh as I burned them. I can still smell it now, hear the crackling of the flames that shot from my hands, incinerating them instantly. There was nothing else I could have done, that was the kindest option I had… or is that simply what I keep telling myself?
“We granted them a mercy. But how many gods have power and could have saved them? How many of them intervened? None of them.” Dekar’s voice rose as he spoke.
“You’re asking me about the gods?” Surely he knows by now how little I follow any gods. “Really Dekar?”
“I’m not asking you about the gods. I’m trying to make a point.” He insisted. “None of them are doing anything. Anytime people talk about the will of the gods, its always some evil deity doing something.”
“So why do you want to become one of them?” I was getting exasperated.
“I’m not trying to become one of them, I’m trying to stop them.”
“By becoming one of them?” I asked again, hoping that he would see the fallacy in his own thinking.
“If that’s what it takes. The phrase, “fight fire with fire” became a phrase that is spoken for a reason.”
“So… you want…” I began, but then I let my thought trail off, for I realized that, much in the fashion of men, nothing that I could say, nothing that I could do, would cause him to stray from this misbegotten path that he set himself on. Such is the stubbornness of humans, especially those who ally so closely with the dwarves. I think that some of the legendary stubbornness of dwarves must rub off on their close friends sometimes… it certainly did on Dekar.
After a minute of silence, Dekar spoke again, placatingly this time. “You know I have the most respect for you, and I treat you as one of my closest friends and loved ones. But even the Elves created an artifact called the Staff of Changes. Can you really begrudge me trying to do something to fix the world?” There it was… hubris and human folly. How dare he compare his own reasoning and desires to the Elves of old?
I chose my next words carefully. “Why do you not learn from my people’s mistakes?”
“Well, I’m doing it a different way than they did… hopefully…”
“By getting the Elf axiomyte, who can make such an artifact to do the same thing for you!” I interrupted.
“I’m not trying to reshape the world.” Dekar justified.
“Neither was Lara Durdain!” I retorted. “She was trying to save her people!”
The knowledge of what Lara Durdain, my ancestor, had been facing is one that I would have thought Dekar would have paid more attention to… we had all been there when Grimaldus shared his vision of the staff. But maybe Dekar hadn’t paid attention to the dire straits that were affecting that civilization… the man, Mustafat, and his supporters, killing elves and other fey, to use their blood and consume their flesh. Lara Durdain had cast a curse on the men of Kamadan, that their bodies would reflect the corruption in their hearts. The cost of such a curse was the shattering of the Staff of Changes. And Lara Durdain paid for that curse with her life – when the men of Kamadan captured her, and by all accounts, killed and consumed her too…
“Well, I’m trying to save more than just my people.” Dekar justified. “I don’t even have people… I’ve got the people who are here.”
“Yeah, and we are probably riding into our deaths, so I suppose all of this is probably moot.” Not that I have any real hope of him seeing reason at any point, even if we make it out of this cursed place with our lives intact.
He nodded. “So that’s why I ask, are you doing okay?”
I looked around. “Yeah, Dekar, I’m fine.” I could feel the lie burning as it left my tongue.
We rode the rest of the way in relative silence. I think neither of us were much in the mood for conversation.
As we drew nearer to the cursed city, skeletons and bodies were strewn about, as though they’ve gotten up over and over again, but the taint of necromancy was less here… so we decided to make camp.
As we settled down into our routine, Hasim approached Dekar and I and asked “If don’t mind me asking… what was that about slaughtering a village? I’m sorry, I was not trying to listen in… but you hear the words, “slaughter the village” and that tends to stand out.”
“So, when we were back in Latria some time ago…” Dekar began explaining.
“They were doomed.” I interrupted.
“We were dealing with a creature that could turn people into horrifying beasts.” Dekar continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “There was no known cure that we could find. As we came across this village, the survivors were crawling around in agony, covered in this mutating substance, soon to be changed. In a mercy, we killed them.”
“I see.” Hasim said. “Very brave of them, most peasants would not so willingly accept their death.”
“Sometimes there is no better option.” A part of me doesn’t know if I was telling that to Hasim, or to myself. I also didn’t want to dwell too much on the fact that the villagers hadn’t willingly accepted their deaths. Rather, we did not give them any choice in the matter.
“Oh don’t worry, I understand…” Hasim agreed. He said that his job has always been to selectively kill one person so they don’t start an uprising or civil war and cause the death of thousands. “I know that it sounds, ironic, but I have actually saved a lot of lives by killing select people.”
Some time later, I was sitting next to Grimaldus, Meriwald perched in his customary place on my shoulder, when I heard Secilia say something to Dekar about having overheard our conversation on the ride over. Not knowing where this conversation was going, but having my suspicions, I walked over.
As I approached, Secilia was asking very personal questions about Dekar’s past… as if her admitting that her goals and convictions are based out of her past is enough to expect someone to just open up and tell her everything. Dekar was nicer than I likely would have been, instead of answering, he asked her if she has ever seen war, been in a war.
I didn’t even want this happening within my earshot, as I already knew the answer. I interrupted the conversation. “No, Dekar. They have seen battles. None of them have ever seen war.”
Dekar ignored me and gave his explanation to Secilia. He told her that he grew up in war, he was raised on a battlefield. He spun his delusion about nobody is trying to fix it.
“Some people are, Dekar.” I reminded him wearily.
“I know…” he acknowledged. “I am.” There he goes again… He made some comment about thinking that some of us are trying to do something too.
Secilia didn’t help matters when she commended him for it. Gods, but I wish she had been able to spend more time with her Elven mother, to know that she should not be commending Dekar for his goals right now!
Secilia then told him that it’s good to have something driving him forward, and she feels like no one is ever trying to stop the undead curse, and people have told her that attempts have failed. She said it in a tone that left no doubt that she actually believes no one has tried, and somehow, she is the first person in this entire crumbling world who has tried to deal with the undead curse?
I just started laughing. “You think no one has tried to stop the undead?”
Secilia huffed. “I’m pretty sure people have tried, but they’ve given up, apparently. Obviously…”
“No, they died!” I said emphatically.
“If they were strong enough, they wouldn’t have died.” Secilia’s tone was superior.
“What?” I snapped. How DARE she? All of them, all of the people who fought and died trying to stop the tides of undead from rolling across the continent… faces of Elves, dwarves and men flashed in my mind’s eye. My friends falling all around me, giving their lives to try to stop the undead. Gerard’s entire order, slain holding back the undead. Far better minds than Secilia have spent longer than she has been alive trying to learn how to break the curse. All of them dead… How dare she?
Secilia apologized, backtracking by saying that she overstepped her bounds. I acknowledged her apology and returned to sit next to Grimaldus, trying to let my anger fade away with each step. Now is not the time…
Eclipse
24th of Solae, 1485
24th of Solae, 1485
This is going to be a much shorter entry than I normally write, I fear… for I am exhausted. Last night was the first night since… probably the war, now that I think of it, that I haven’t been able to meditate for the appropriate amount of time due to outside forces. I have had many nights of unrest, but those were mostly brought about by torments in my own mind…
After the battle, the men gathered all of the corpses of the dead into a pile and set it aflame. The acrid
odor permeated my senses until I couldn’t help myself against the side of the guard tower. Fortunately, I managed to get out of view of most of the others, I think… but Dekar found me. I suppose he would find me in this situation… I am just grateful that he didn’t say anything, aside from lifting my hair out of my face so I wouldn’t vomit on it.
When I finally gained control of my stomach, I used a cantrip to make my cloak smell like strong herbs and flowers and held it over my nose and mouth to try to minimize the stench. Bile rose in my throat with each breath, rising with the memories of the same stench burning on other battlefields… but I was able to wade through it the same way I had back during the war. It is interesting what the mind can do, even when the body is unwilling.
Then, Rowan came and sat down beside me, looking completely dejected. I asked her what was wrong, and she asked me how I felt when Filandrel betrayed me. What the fuck? So… I confronted her on how she could possibly know anything about that… and she has apparently been sneaking into my things and practicing her reading skills on my journal.
I feel violated. Why would she do that? She said that it was just laying around and she read a bit of it… but what she said confirms that she likely read the entirety of my writings from Latria. And, I know that it was in my bag… I never leave my spellbook laying carelessly around… Why would she do that? She said she was curious, and then had a hard time putting it down, I think she said something regarding my skill as a writer. Flattery to try to divert my attention… it didn’t work as I am not so easily dissuaded from a topic…
It does bother me though, on multiple levels and for different reasons… if Rowan wanted to know about my past, she could have always just asked me. And, why does she care? We’ve barely even spoken. But even more than that… now she knows far too much about everything that went on with Filandrel… that is especially dangerous information for her to have. And, even though she violated my privacy, I do not have any desire to see harm come to the gnome…
Rowan tried to spin in as she is asking if I think her master betrayed her… because he left her guarding a rock for seven years. Her people are even longer lived than mine… so I kind of laughed, seven years is nothing more than a blink of an eye to a gnome… I assured her that he probably considered it an important task for her, or if he was lying to her, then it is most likely to protect her in some way… at least in his mind.
I suggested that, whenever she does go to speak with Cojisto, that she bring Grimaldus along. She sulked and muttered that she doesn’t like Grimaldus, which doesn’t make any sense… well, yes, I suppose it does… he did apparently wake her up by swinging her around… but regardless… I am not the person to be talking to about how to tell if a mentor can be trusted… if it weren’t for Grimaldus and Damian, I’d very likely still trust Filandrel implicitly.
So, Rowan… if you are reading this… please stop. You can ask me whatever you want to know, there is no need to go snooping. I have educational books that you can practice your reading with, there’s no need to further invade my privacy.
A horn sounded, a precursor to the battle. A battle under an eclipse… there is apparently no end to the bad omens in this land…
The undead attacked. I won’t write much about the specific goings on of the battle… for I don’t desire to dwell on it… suffice to say that we managed to win the day, albeit at a nearly tragic loss… We almost lost Gerard and Hasim. Fortunately, I was able to teleport Hasim to safety by Secilia… but I was unable to reach Gerard…
At one point, I found myself paralyzed by the sight of the river, and the bodies of elves floating in its depths… from today, or a millennia ago, I couldn’t tell… but I was temporarily transfixed by the sight. Someone managed to snap me out of it, who, I don’t know. But I do know that in that time, I owed my life to Grimaldus… I think we all do. I could feel the soul-leeching powers of necromantic magic sapping away at my very life, but it didn’t hurt as bad as it should have… and I know that the reason must have been Grimaldus, standing on the bridge, surrounded by light.
…and they say that clerics cannot draw power from a dead god…
Hatholdir arrived as the second tide of undead was attacking. The remainder of the battle wasn’t even much of a fight. Hatholdir and the feathered woman teleported into the center of the bridge, as the contingent of armored elves ran up to support us. Some woman showed up with a small pack of wolves, I assumed correctly that she was the same one Dekar met in the woods a few nights ago.
We took the bridge, and I conjured a wall of stone to replace the broken segments. Dekar helped by molding the earth around it, I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was unnecessary. Besides, I’m likely not the only one who wanted to keep busy after the battle…
We ride out for the cursed city at first light. I don’t know what we are riding into, but I hope to live through it… I am not ready to die, but I refuse to allow myself or my friends to die in this cursed land…
A Cursed Land Under a Cursed Moon
23rd of Solae, 1485
23rd of Solae, 1485
I find myself not having written in the past few days, something that hasn’t happened since we disembarked from the Jackdaw nearly a month ago… I have much to think about, much to sort out in my mind before I can move forward. I thought that I had worked out much of what has plagued my mind for the past couple decades, but apparently, I have not… being in this place brings it all crashing to the forefront again.
Two nights ago, the first that I didn’t record my thoughts and my companions’ deeds, I stood watch with Grimaldus. It was comfortable in my conjured hut, something that the men seemed grateful for. I’m glad I could provide at least a modicum of comfort in this cursed place.
While we were on watch, one of the dead began bumping into the walls of the hut. I didn’t even notice its presence, to be honest, until I saw it trying to push its way in. I couldn’t tear my eyes off it, even though I desperately wanted to… the undead remains of a dwarf, animated through this foul curse. It bore the tattered remains of what looks like the livery of Grimstone Hall… over a thousand miles away, across the mountains. He must have traveled far before dying here, so very far from home. He should be in a dwarven tomb with his ancestors, like we buried Garrick… not out here, wandering these cursed woods, an undead abomination grasping for any life he can sense.
I think Grimaldus said something, but I didn’t hear him. My entire focus was wrapped up in the undead dwarf. Not taking my eyes off of the decayed remains of the dwarf, I said “he’s so far from home.”
“Do you want me to kill it?” Grimaldus asked. Then I realized that he must have been asking me this same question for the past few minutes.
I nodded. Grimaldus stepped out into the snow and, although I couldn’t hear it physically, my mind knew the sound of the crunching bone and decayed flesh as he ended it with a single blow of his mace. I looked up as he came back in, dipping his bloody mace in the snow to clean it first. I think I thanked him, but I cannot be sure. We spent the rest of our watch in relative silence, but Grimaldus’ presence provided a bit of solace.
In the morning, I asked Gerard why some of the mages that were in the camp hadn’t merely teleported to the site and repaired the bridge if it is that important. He said that Hatholdir suspects that some of the mages (or all of them) might have been strategically planted by the merchants of Delineus, in order to ensure the failure of the effort. Hasim didn’t understand why, but as soon as Gerard mentioned it, I could see it… if the undead manage to siege Delineus, then Loec will be forced to act. And if Loec is forced to involve itself, then Delineus’ trade will improve drastically. It makes sense, in a twisted logic that seems to be so common among those who are obsessed with money.
The men bickered with each other for most of the journey. I finally snapped at them, in Yongrel, telling them to stop. I do not have the patience since coming to this place to listen to that shit. We are about to go face an unknown number of undead… any division among us and the consequences will be dire…
We passed a few more Elvish ruins before arriving at the bridge that we’re supposed to take and hold to repair. Hasim scouted ahead, sneaking into the watchtower that appeared to be mostly intact. Based on what we discovered, it appears that the soldiers holding the tower were the ones who blew up the bridge – likely to stop the tide of undead from sweeping across the rest of the land…
After the tower, and its accompanying cannons were secured, I cast a sending spell to Hatholdir. I told him that the guards destroyed the bridge themselves, and asked if he actually wanted us to repair the bridge and risk invasion. I told him that I can repair it in ten minutes.
A few moments later, Hatholdir replied. “Rebuild at the last second. Watch for my arrival. This is no longer our camp. See you soon.”
He still hasn’t arrived, so I’m not entirely sure what he meant by this not being our camp… but I think that we will soon find out…
Rowan showed me some mushrooms growing along the riverbank while I was accustoming myself with the lay of the land. She claims that they are a good omen… I hope she is right. And hopefully the good omen of a few little mushrooms is going to be enough to counteract the terrible omen that is brewing in the sky… an eclipse…
I took the darkest watch of the night with Hasim. I asked him about his son, and if he has anything that he wants to ensure that the boy knows or receives in the event of his death… he claims that Uriel dropped everything off with the babe. He was so nonchalant about it… I don’t think I will ever understand how blasé humans so often are with their young. For my people, every child is a gift. A gift to be treasured and nurtured by our entire people. We have so few children, and there are often centuries between the birth of siblings, that perhaps we just understand the value of their lives and wellbeing more? I don’t know… Marcus in Yaharghul seemed to care deeply for his young daughter, Aeliianna, but perhaps he is an exception. Or perhaps, it is because Hasim isn’t a human after all… maybe the Yuan-Ti simply view their offspring differently… or Hasim is so consumed by his quest for vengeance that is isn’t thinking of the little son’s life that he may be leaving behind, missing out on…
I know that I cannot imagine my father ever having abandoned me as a child… and I have seen the pain in Ravlor’s eyes when he told me of his lost child he never even got to see before its death… I hope that Hasim is going to be spared that fate… I also hope, for his child’s sake, that he finds him again… because I look at myself and then I look at my friends. All of them have lost their parents… Secilia and Inira when they were very young, and Dekar just this past year… it is a tragedy for any child to grow up in a world where they don’t have a safe place to go home to, a mother and father to welcome them home and give them advice and comfort when the whole world seems to be against them…
I sat there, watching the snow falling outside, completely absorbed in my thoughts and memories.
We were completely snowed in. I still don’t know what possessed us to think it would be a good idea to go off into the woods in the deepest part of winter, but we did. Myself and five other apprentices from Egig Ero Fa. And then, we had gotten trapped by the snows in that horrible, cramped cabin for six days. For six days, I regretted having ever let Morwen talk me into coming along for this outing. They never stopped talking… never stopped complaining… especially once we ran out of food.
Finally, on the last day, a ranger arrived carrying three chickens. No food has ever tasted so good as those chickens, even though they were cooked with little seasoning, over a small, conjured fire… far from the meals I had been accustomed to eating.
The ranger introduced himself as Ravlor, and we talked for a time, before he went on his way. It was only later that I realized that he had never mentioned why he was there, or what his mission was.
A few years later, I ran into him again outside Egig Ero Fa. We had a good conversation, and parted ways.
Then, shortly before the war, I ran into him again. We spoke some more, and he introduced me to his hawk, Aldon. We had a long conversation, and he showed me how to navigate the forests so I wouldn’t find myself in the same situation I was in when we first met. He was cheerful enough, but I could tell that something was bothering him. He didn’t seem happy, as though he didn’t want the upcoming fight, and he wasn’t happy doing what he was doing. But I was too caught up in our conversations, and I didn’t want to pry. Not to mention, I was absorbed in the excitement of learning how to navigate the Alcarin woods like the rangers do.
Such were my thoughts as I sat with Hasim on watch. I pulled my gaze away from the falling snow to see Hasim staring at me. “Do you need something?” he asked. I asked him to keep an eye on everything, if he could just give me a brief period of time. He was hesitant, but when I told him to just shake me if he or Meriwald spotted something suspicious, he relaxed – well, relaxed as much as he ever does while he is conscious.
I cast Dream. Normally when I use the spell, I let the environment be dictated by the subject... I enter into their dream... but this time... this time I wanted to control the locale. I didn’t want to find myself thrust in the middle of a battle again, or worse, find myself in one of Ravlor’s nightmares. So, I conjured the place I most wanted to be in the moment, where I felt safest... the Alcarin woods.
Ravlor was sitting on a rock, playing a lute. He put it down, and sat crosslegged, folding his arms across his chest. “Really?” he says looking around. “You must be feeling really shitty right now...”
“You have no idea.”
“Homesick?”
I shrugged and explained to him everything that had happened with Damian. I told Ravlor how Damian started attacking me as soon as I arrived in his dream, and didn’t stop or explain anything, or even really listen to me at all. Ravlor said that Damian is obviously hurting right now, and that he probably was speaking from his pain. He told me that I should be there for him, and that there is a chance that I might be the only one, as Damian’s friend, who has a chance to stop him from going completely mad and following in his father’s hatred for the Elves.
I told him that Damian hadn’t even reacted when he showed me the memory of his sister’s death… I think that is the one that bothers me the most… for that is the most unlike the Damian that I know.
“I was there, actually...” Ravlor said.
“What do you mean, you were there?”
“Me and Doodles.” He explained. “We blew up a boat, nearly didn’t make it out alive. Doodles was taken by a bullshark, and then I had to take him out. The bullshark, I mean... not Doodles. Huge scar on his leg. He made it out fine... grew a third arm too... alchemy. But, we got rid of the third arm. Now he’s got a tumor that he talks to... it gets really weird. Calls it his little brother, I don’t know...”
“How are you?” I ask after a moment, studying him intently.
“Been better. Been worse, too. Being with him is fun, I won’t lie. He’s good.” Ravlor smiled, somewhat sadly. “Very good, actually. But I can’t help but shake the thought that he’s going to be gone soon. It hurts, you know... losing people.”
“Yeah.” I nod.
Ravlor just sat there for a minute, letting the silence stretch before speaking. “You need me to do that grounding thing, don’t you?”
“Yeah...” I nodded. “We’re... I’m in Loec.”
“Have you run into the dead yet?”
I nodded again.
“How do you feel about it?” He asked.
“About to run into a lot more.” I told him.
“It makes me want to vomit, you know?”
“I already did that.”
“Hm.” He said. “Good. Do it for me too when you wake up.”
“Yeah.”
I couldn’t help but think that with the unknown outcome of the upcoming fight, I might not come out alive from it this time… “what... um... I can’t get lucky too many times...”
“No. You can’t” he said, obviously understanding where my mind was at.
“If...” I start to say.
“Are you in love?” Ravlor interrupts me.
“What?”
“Are you in love with him? I ask as your friend.”
“Maybe?”
“It’s going to hurt in the end.” He said sadly. “It always does.”
“You’re the one who told me it was worth it.”
“It is... and now I’m having second thoughts myself.”
“What do you mean, having second thoughts yourself? You told me it was worth it.”
“No... I meant that their lives are fickle. It’s awful. For us.” He explained. “They get to live their lives to the fullest, and we get to stay here, and have to deal with this. The loss, I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.” I really don’t want to think about any of my friends dying right now… I have enough of that without Ravlor reminding me that all of them, especially Grimaldus, are on a time limit of sorts, before their years run their course, and old age and death claim them… providing they live that long…
“Have… I know I’ve asked you this before, but I’m going to ask you again…” I carefully changed the subject. “What do you think of Filandrel?”
“I hate him.” Ravlor replied implacably.
“Why?”
“Because he can’t be trusted. Because an honest man would never have to take so many roles. You can already see it with him… he’s like a… there are these things in the jungle, they’re called chameleons… they just change their color to whatever… like a frog.” He explained. “He’s like a very thin, very lithe, intelligent, eloquent frog. Or a lizard. He just changes to the shape he needs to to fit whatever role he fits in and he just gets into your head. I can already tell you’ve talked to him recently.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. Ravlor can always tell, so there’s no sense lying to him even if I had something to hide.
“What did he say?”
“Do you promise it doesn’t leave here?” I leaned forward, holding his gaze with intensity. “Give me your word.”
“You can’t make me promise something when I don’t even know what you’re about to tell me. That’s not fair.”
“I know it’s not fair.” I sighed. “But if I tell you, and it gets out that I told you… if something happens to you that is my fault, I’m not going to be able to deal with that.”
“Fine.” Ravlor said after a moment. “I promise.”
“He’s not who he says he is.”
“Of course he’s not.” He scoffed. “Who is he, then?”
“Do you know anything about the one whom the humans call the Pale Master?”
Ravlor’s eyes shifted to me as if he actually knows a lot more than he was saying. He stood up, dropping the lute from his lap, and walked over to me. Reaching out, he touched his finger to my nose, placing an implacable hand on my shoulder.
“You NEED to stop. Get away from him as soon as you can.”
“Stop what?”
“Talking to him. Being around him. Knowing him. Everything. He’s dangerous… he’s beyond dangerous… Why do you think he even needs to hide his identity around our own kin? He’s a killer. I know better than most.” He said, bitterly.
“Explain it to me…”
“Hundreds, thousands killed by him or his orders in some way. Plagues unleashed. Babies burnt in their homes. All done by him. He’s a fanatic… he’s a fiend. Does the princess know?”
“I don’t know.” I lied. “I had suspicions…”
“Why would he tell you that?” Ravlor shook his head in disbelief.
“Because I asked him.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He has no reason to tell you.”
“I know!”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Everyone suspects.” I explained
“Then everyone knows.” He said, as though his suspicions were confirmed. “Filandrel wants you to take his side. That’s what he wants. He wants to make sure that he is safe when the information gets out… it doesn’t get past you and your people. He’s already going to use you, and he’s going to say whatever it takes to make sure that you side with him. You know that. And you’re going to listen, because you ALWAYS listen.”
“So how do I not?” I asked.
“You tell him to go fuck himself.”
I laughed at the absurdity, even as I found myself wishing that I could. “Tell Filandrel to go fuck himself?”
“Yes. Quite eloquently, actually. Actually, Doodles got really good at telling people to go fuck themselves recently… you could ask him.”
I can picture Doodles screaming to the wind for people to go fuck themselves from the prow of his boat.
“He’s dangerous,” Ravlor insisted, “and he’s going to make you side with him. No matter what you do. And he’ll tear you apart from the people you love most. I’m telling you that now.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen him do it before.”
“Did he do it to you?” I asked.
“No. Because I never let him. The rangers don’t really answer to Egig Ero Fa, and most of us are raised from birth to do one thing. We’re dispossessed. We never really had a home. Some of us taken from a very young age to guard the border, it’s what we do. But occasionally we do hear stories of what goes on beyond the border… in the darker part of the woods.”
I felt the sudden urge to tell him that he could always go to my parents’ house with me, if he wanted to feel like he had a home. But I refrained. The last thing I need to do right now is cloud my mind with what-if’s…
“I want you to think about what I said.” Ravlor’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“I always think about what you say.”
“And take care of my dear little friend… how’s he doing?”
“He’s pretty mad at me right now.” I admitted.
“Makes sense… I would be too. You took him near the dead. It’s probably cold out there too.”
“It’s fucking freezing.” I nearly shivered at the thought.
“You should wear something warm.”
“On the upside, you don’t have to deal with any of these fucking cats. You should see how many of them there are out here.” I could hear the exasperation in Ravlor’s voice.
“How many?” I laughed.
“I don’t know, hundreds, dozens.”
“You must be having fun.” I said, teasing him. For all of his affection for animals, Ravlor has never been particularly fond of cats… I think it’s because Aldon hated them with a passion, and on a subconscious level, I think that Ravlor must have let that aspect of his animal companion rub off onto him… even though the hawk has been gone for years.
“I don’t know why Doodles wanted to come to Boatmurdered, it makes no sense to me.” Ravlor admitted. “He says he’s following clues but he won’t tell me why. I thought your friend Garrick was dead, I don’t get it.”
“He is.”
“That’s what I said. But Doodles said he has a hunch. So now I have to follow him.”
“I never would have thought…” I could barely contain my laughter. “to see you traveling the world…”
“With a goblin?” Ravlor interrupted.
“…following behind a goblin’s whims.” I laughed as I finished.
“Nah,” Ravlor said in all seriousness. “He calls the shots. He’s the captain.”
Ravlor gave me a hug, saying “You come back alive, okay?”
“That’s the goal.” I replied. “You too.”
“Say hi to Meriwald for me.” He said as he turned and walked away.
I stayed in the dream for a short while longer... not yet ready to leave the forest of my home.
I regained consciousness a few minutes later, to find Meriwald looking as though he was about to cough up a pellet. Hasim asked if I did what I needed to do, and I nodded, before turning to Meriwald. “Ravlor says hi.” I told him, and was pleased to see how much the little owl perked up. I didn’t miss his self-indulgent “Destiny...” that he muttered... but I didn’t pursue it too much further. I did put a stop to his incessant kissing noises though...
Hasim was confused, I think. He asked if I’d spoken with someone that I know. I nodded, but otherwise ignored it. Of course I was speaking with someone I know... does he actually believe that I can just enter the dreams of a stranger? No matter... our watch was ending, and I had much to meditate on...
------------------------
The morning was heralded by a blaring horn. The dead usually come with an eerie silence, not with the sounding of horns... We all made our way to the bridge, and a vampire walked out, flanked by other undead. She demanded to speak with the girl, Hrist, as she let down her glamour, revealing a face that was uncomfortably similar to Inira’s... the same bright blue eyes, dark hair and fair skin – although this woman appeared to be even paler than Inira is... how that is possible for a living person, I’m not entirely sure. They talked for a time, but I wasn’t paying much heed to the conversation.
My mind was elsewhere, as my eyes kept being drawn to the wraithlike form of an elf, and the great undead dragon at his back... it was like looking into a nightmare. So, as I prepared to conjure an ally for this battle, my eye was drawn to the fey. Perhaps it is the curse of this place, or merely the dark path that my mind seems to be walking, either way, I decided that if I am to fight nightmares this day, then they should have to do the same. I called forth a dusk hag, for the first (and hopefully last) time in my life... A summoned nightmare to fight nightmares.
Battle ensued, and in the chaos, I don’t recall exactly what went on, but we did defeat the undead... at least this contingent of them... we faced their initial advance, likely meant to test our strength before the actual assault. I hope they don’t come during the night... we could all use some decent rest...
At a Loss
20th-21st of Solae, 1485
20th of Solae, 1485
The encampment Gerard spoke of is entrenched in ancient Elven ruins. There are more men than I was expecting… I thought there would be a small band, but this is instead a military encampment of at least three hundred individuals. We entered past the guards without so much as a questioning, it would seem that our mere armed and living presence, was enough to grant us entry to this place.
A song was being performed nearby. I didn’t think too much of it, but Secilia and Inira stormed off in the direction of the performers. Grimaldus followed them, looking amused. I stayed behind with the others, looking around the encampment and listening to Gerard’s descriptions. When I did glance over, however, I saw a couple of familiar faces among the performers… the same yellow-eyed man (he was a merchant and puppeteer the last time I saw him), the same one who had given me Tacitus’ book that I traded to Gaius of Astoria for my scrying mirror. It wasn’t the yellow-eyed man who help my attention, however… rather, it was the buxom elf woman who was singing with him… the feathered woman whom I’ve met on a few occasions.
We exchanged pleasantries, and she said that she is here on Hatholdir’s request. I’m not surprised that the two of them know each other, but I also did not know that Hatholdir was here! Why didn’t Gerard mention this earlier? He made absolutely no mention of Hatholdir being in the vicinity, much less, the apparent commander of this band…
A short while later, I found myself being led to Hatholdir’s tent. Inira and Secilia followed close behind, but I was going to go see Hatholdir regardless of their presence… When we entered, he looked up, surprised. “It is not often,” he said “that I am greeted by three beautiful women in one day.”
Hatholdir approached and I could feel a lightness in my step, as I embraced him. It was so good to see the old elf again. I had almost thought him dead, especially when Gerard made no mention of him. I introduced him to my companions, and he immediately ingratiated himself with Secilia by offering us a cup of tea.
The four of us talked for some time, about various things… what had been going on in our lives and the world, Gerard, among other topics. Apparently, Hatholdir has formed a small band of hellknights… I’m going to withhold judgement on that front, because their services are very likely a necessity, even if their methods are somewhat… undesirable…
We were having a quite comfortable conversation when the tent flaps were thrown open, and Grimaldus and Hasim entered. They seemed surprised to see us there already, and quickly joined in the conversation.
Hatholdir needed help retaking the bridge that lay between the encampment and Rafulkarn, the Cursed City. Apparently, the bridge had fallen, and they have been unable to retake it. He offered to send some of his men with us, if we would be willing to take it back from the undead.
Later on in the evening, when everyone was settling down for the night, I walked over to Dekar and sat down beside him.
“So, let me ask you something…” I said. “Whatever the FUCK happened on that Hill of Suicides had BETTER not FUCKING HAPPEN ON THAT BRIDGE. Do you, or do you not, have balls?”
“I could show you.” Dekar said sarcastically with a laugh..
“It’s a figure of speech.” I bit out.
“You don’t understand what happened yesterday.” He said quietly.
“No? What I understand is that we got in a fight with some undead and you froze.”
“I didn’t freeze.” Why was he being so damn calm?
“That’s what it looked like. Are you going to freeze when we’re on that bridge? Or are you going to actually have our backs?”
“I’ve always had your back.” Dekar stated implacably.
“It sure as hell didn’t feel like it.” I snapped.
“Let me explain something to you…” he said, still perfectly calm. “We, the three of us, went into that chapel of guilt, or whatever it was called… it wasn’t just a baptismal font inside. It was more than that…”
“Okay…” I said, apprehensive.
“I saw Henry. I saw the rest of the Butchers, and many other figures, stuck in the Fugue.”
“An illusion?” I asked.
“No. I touched it, felt it. It was no illusion.”
“A major illusion?”
“I didn’t see my father die.” Dekar explained. “But I know how he died. What I saw in the Fugue was his burnt body. I would have no way of knowing how he looked when he died. I have every reason to believe this was true… and he told me, as they walk the Fugue plane, something is in there. And something is shredding and devouring the souls that still wander.”
Inira came walking up. “What is going on?” She interrupted. I ignored her.
“The sorrows said they were protecting those dead people who had decided to take their own life, from going to the Fugue.” Dekar continued talking, ignoring Inira’s interruption. “I didn’t want any more people to go there.”
Inira started to say something, but again, I ignored her. This wasn’t her conversation.
“Then why didn’t you explain any of this?” I bit out. “Why didn’t you say anything before we went over there, instead of just standing there, doing nothing.”
“How exactly would you take it,” Dekar asked, “if you saw your dead father?”
“My father is actually not dead…”
“I know.” He said. “But, imagine if he was… its not something that you just immediately get over. And, as I’ve said, I didn’t feel it an illusion. I was still processing what had just happened.”
“I mean,” Inira interrupted again. “It took me a little bit to process seeing my dead family, but why didn’t you say anything after?”
“Well, we had a lot going on.”
Dekar sighed and looked at me. “So, yes. I understand how you feel, especially given your past circumstances. But I will always have your back. As I’ve told you before. Also, I’d like to point out that you really didn’t need my help with that riffraff.”
“No. But you still stood there and did nothing… you didn’t even speak.” I said.
“Because I believed you were doing the wrong thing.”
“Then TELL me.”
“The middle of a battlefield is a bad place to have a conversation.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes that’s the only chance we get.”
“That’s fair.” Dekar admitted.
“So you saw your father?” Inira asked him gently.
“Yes.” Dekar replied, turning to her. “I saw Henry and the rest of the Butchers. Almost like it was foretelling me what I was about to see now.”
“Next time…” I interrupted their little interlude. “Next time, fucking say something. Don’t just stand there and do nothing. Because I’m not going to lie, if we go to this bridge, and you stand there and do nothing as a tide of undead crashes into us? I’m done.”
“Inara” he said gently, reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I am not Gaius of Astoria. I’m not going to abandon you. I have not abandoned anyone here. I gave my life for the rest of you to escape.”
I could feel my eyes betray me with tears. “You ignored me when I called to you.”
“Because you needed to go.”
“Oh, I was going to go, but I was going to take you.” I walked away then, angrily dashing the tears from my face. I heard Inira say something about me, but I was too angry and upset and confused to pay attention, or even care.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
I found a fairly secluded spot, between our camp and Hatholdir’s tent. I looked at Meriwald and told him to make sure that nobody bothers me. I saw a tiny hut shimmer around us, effectively locking Meriwald and myself away from the rest of the world for the time being.
I settled down and did my best to clear my mind before reaching out to Damian.
I was plunged into a dark area, different than the room I found myself in the first time I walked Damian’s memories with him… Above me, I could see a sunset.
Arrows fly toward me, whizzing past and passing harmlessly through me. They do, however, kill five men standing in front of me. I look around. Off in one corner, I spot Damian, but he looks so different…
He is sitting on corpse, as if the body were a cushion. He doesn’t look well… his skin has taken on a pale, sickly pallor. His normally shiny hair is greasy and unkept. He’s unshaven. He is wearing black armor and a purple cloak. His right hand is tucked under his cloak, as though he’s hiding something. He looks directly at me for a moment in disbelief.
“Damian.” I say, gently. “I’m so sorry…”
“What are you doing here?” he bites out, he sounds angry with me.
“I came to check on you. What are you doing here?” I ask disbelieving where I found him.
He points, as a volley of arrows hits another group of men. “I’m learning.”
I follow his attention and take a closer look. Judging by the livery of the armies, this appears to be one of the battles in Runestone’s civil war from around three centuries ago.
“Your dreams are your memories…” I say, confused.
“Not mine.” He whispers. He stands up, a bit shakier than when I saw him last. “How dare you? How Dare you come here?”
“How dare I?” What?
“This is not a letter. This is not a message. You are in my head.” His tone is scathing.
“Yes,” I snap at him. “As you invited me before. This is the fastest way to check on you.”
“How would you like it,” he asks angrily, “if somebody just popped in, while you were in the middle of something.”
“I figured you would be more broken up about your sister.”
Another cavalry charge happens in the distance.
“Of course you’d assume to know. As you know everything.”
“I found out two hours ago. And no, I don’t know everything. That’s actually one of the reasons why I came here, because I don’t know how you’re doing, and judging by the looks of you, and what you’re doing, it’s not that great!”
“So tell me… because I’m sure you’re eager to talk about that as well, what happened to you?”
“A lot…”
“Yes, of course.” He murmurs quietly, almost as if to himself.
“Are you okay?”
He chuckles. “I… like I said… am learning.” He starts walking into the battlefield, as though he’s looking for a particular spot. I follow him.
I can see Viktor von Carstein getting up, bloodied. He begins running from the battle, straight for the city. He looks like he’s panicking, trying to get to something in the city before it’s too late.
“Have you heard of this battle?” Damian asks sarcastically. “Please access that vast repertoire of knowledge…”
“What is with you?” I ask. I have heard of this… if my reading serves me correctly, this must be the battle where Viktor’s father fell, and as his family had been assassinated earlier, it made him the last surviving member of his house. “He’s going to find your grandmother and your aunt dead.”
“Yes.” Damian replies. “But that is not why this is important. Do you know what this moment is?”
I shake my head. “No…”
“This…” Damian says, motioning about him “is my conception.”
“What the fuck?”
“It’s in this battle, that Viktor decided all was lost. That the only way to preserve his bloodline, my bloodline, was through unconventional means.”
“Where are you going with this, Damian?”
“This is where it started coming together.” He continues, almost as though I hadn’t spoken.
“So, do you admire him now?” I ask in disbelief.
“No.” Damian answers. “But I understand him.
“The last time I saw you interact with him, you punched him in the face… in your dream.”
This is a dangerous path that Damian is walking… going through Viktor’s memories will only cause him to empathize more with him…
“I don’t respect him. But I understand him now.”
“Why?”
Damian waves his hand and the scene changes...
Odd stone houses by a coast… seagulls calling. A sea battle taking place not far out to see. Damian is standing in front of a house. Two men duel in a corner and a primal roar sounds out across the area. I see Damian run into the house, panicked, clutching a bloody stump of his right hand… This must be his memory, because I am watching the Damian I recognize, while the stranger stands beside me.
“This one’s mine.” Damian says to me as he turns, before calmly following himself up the stairs. I follow him, and the scene at the top of the stairs turns my stomach.
A girl lays in a puddle of blood, her throat slit from ear to ear. A young man, one very same who I’d complimented his dancing not a few days earlier, the young emperor, lay mostly dead and bloody across the room. Damian seemed to have arrived mere seconds too late… he was clutching his sister to him.
“Do you know the thing, that is really the most tragic, that Elves will never understand?” Damian asks.
“What?” I heard a cackle in the background, haunting in its familiarity… Viktor, the creature that Gerard was supposed to be reining in…
“The preciousness of mortality.” Damian answers as though I hadn’t spoken. “You live for hundreds of years, possibly more, some of you are probably older than I can even comprehend. Ironically, the only person who probably could comprehend it was my father. The human who hated Elves the most, was the most like them in that regard. You don’t understand, you won’t understand, how truly precious a life is. Because you get centuries with the ones you care about, or you get used to the weaker ones dying off, and then you find yourself someone else. But this is all humans have.” He points to his sister’s corpse. The memory of Damian is in tears, trying desperately to pour a potion down her mouth, only to have it running out the gash in her throat.
“And after its gone, that’s it. Nothing left. Nothing to come after. But hoping that it doesn’t happen again. I know you understand to an extent…”
“You’re assuming that I don’t know loss? You’re assuming that I don’t know pain?”
“Again, it’s all about you.” Damian laughs ruefully. “Because your trauma is so much more important. Because your events that happened before I was born, that happened before most humans who are alive now, were born, that you had more time to grieve, and get over, than any of us could ever hope for.”
“Yeah,” I snap back. “Because I’ve had more time to get over Garrick dying than you.”
“You won’t understand… I know you know why. But I know you could never accept it… why generations of humans, of people, fight and die for the same scraps of land, for the same name that one of their great grandparents was called, why the world is falling apart.”
“Actually, I..”
“Why people like my sister die.”
“Actually I don’t.”
“Oh you do.” Damian whispers. “But you’d never admit it.”
“Then tell me.”
He leans in, over his dead sister’s body. “It’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Not you specifically. The Elves…”
“How is this?...” I motioned around to the chaos and tragedy surrounding us. “All of the issues that men have… the fault of the Elves?”
“Because,” Damian bites out, “we were never allowed to grow. The Elves came because you destroyed your own world. And, in your arrogance, you taught fledgling men, still hopeful and under the oppression of beings they couldn’t understand, how to use magic. You gave them access to gunpowder, before they could even light a candle… Do you understand?” he sneers. “And because of that, we accelerated so much faster than we should have…”
“So” I interrupted. “you would rather be living in mud huts?”
“I would rather we have done it on our own. So we could have learned from our own mistakes, instead of only having the Elves to say that they know better, and that we should listen, because they are better.”
“You don’t sound like yourself…” I tell him.
“Or maybe, I wasn’t myself before.”
“So let me ask you… am I speaking to Damian? Or am I speaking to Viktor? Because you’re certainly not acting like the Damian that I traveled with… the Damian right there.” I say, motioning to the image of Damian cradling his dead sister.
“You think yourself so clever… that there’s always some reason behind it. But, maybe, sometimes, things just aren’t the way you thought they were.”
I am still taken aback at the rage and condemnation in his voice and countenance.
“No shit.”
“Sometimes, the things that you trust, and the things that you think, are just wrong, like this.” Damian said, waving his hand once more and changing the memory we were standing in.
I find myself wanting to scream at him, force him to remember that he was there when my world fell apart. He and Grimaldus were the ones who caught Filandrel’s lies… He already knows that I have realized that many things I have trusted and “known” for most of my life have been wrong… so why is he pouring salt in that wound?
This memory is another battlefield, except there is an Elven couple walking through a city, burning the buildings with people trapped within, the doors having been turned to stone. It looks like it might have happened at some point during the early wars.
“What is this?” I ask.
“It’s proof.” Damian sounds almost satisfied.
“Of what?”
“That you’re not so different from the humans that you’ve always looked down on. And you can say that you don’t, but you do. Everyone knows.”
“Everyone knows?”
“All Elves do. Even if you don’t think you do, even if you act like you don’t, deep down, you feel like you’re better than us.”
“And you resent us.” I reply.
“No. I don’t resent you. This is not a decision you made, you’re young. It is a decision of your elders. And it is you, taking that decision and insisting that it was right.”
What decision am I insisting was right?
“So tell me, Inara…” Damian continues. “Anytime that you’ve asked your people why they left the First World, did they ever truly tell you? Did a single one of them, did any of them,” he pointed his bloody stump that was once his hand at the two mages burning the city, “admit that they made a mistake? That they let power control them? That they were the ones that destroyed your world? Or did they just say that they couldn’t control it? It was unexpected? It was out of their hands? And that whenever the humans did the exact same things, with the tools that they gave them, that they simply just didn’t listen? That it’s the humans’ fault for creating their own gods? Just like the Elves did. For dooming their own world? Just like the Elves did. Did a single one of them ever say anything like that? Or did they insist that they were in the right?”
“Let me ask you something…” He finally stops talking long enough for me to reply. “How do you propose to understand this? How do you know of this? And why do you not care about your sister?!”
Damian laughs. “I read books. Books that weren’t written by Elves, from their perspective. Books about how bad things actually were. And… I do care about my sister.”
“So you read books written from a humans’ perspective?”
“No.”
“Books written from whose perspective? The dwarves?” he doesn’t answer. I don’t think he wants me to know… I don’t know what to say to him, so I look at him sadly and tell him the truth. “I… I thought that you were… I considered you the most genuinely good person I’d ever met.”
“And because I don’t agree with you, that makes me a bad person now?” Damian sounds defensive.
I could feel the dream starting to fade, as though I was being pulled out of it by something.
“No. Because you’re not acting like yourself. Trust me, I don’t agree with many people.”
“I will give you this one piece of advice, because we fought together. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me!”
“I did call you a friend, and maybe I still do, I’m not sure. Don’t come back to Runestone.”
The dream faded then, and I found myself awoken by Inira. She was shaking me and asking what was wrong. Meriwald was peeking around her, jumping up and down, all distraught. I ignored Inira for the moment, turning to Meriwald. “I told you not to let anyone bother me!” I scolded him, harsher probably than was necessary. He looked ashamed of himself.
Inira asked what was wrong. She claimed that she was willing to give me space and time, but yet she was there and must have convinced Meriwald to let her interfere. We argued. Grimaldus walked up, and said we needed to table this argument for later unless we plan on dying tomorrow. Inira started arguing with him, saying that’s why she’s here, because my head isn’t in the right place, and she is worried that I won’t be able to function in the upcoming battle.
I told her that she isn’t one to talk, because she’s never faced an army of undead before… and by tomorrow I will be in a perfectly fine headspace to burn a bunch of undead… now that I write about it, I might have been a bit harsh. But I was so angry. Hurt and angry.
And then Grimaldus interrupted and told me that I need to focus on the here and now and save Damian for later. How dare he? He doesn’t get to tell me what is important in life. Grimaldus doesn’t get to tell me that I shouldn’t have contacted Damian, who I thought was my friend, on the morrow of his sister’s murder!
Instead of saying anything that I might regret later, I walked away.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
21st of Solae, 1485
Later last night, after I calmed down a bit, I sent a message to Princess Anastasia. I asked her if she still has the staff, because if she does, I will have need of it before too long. I asked her for it, and told her that I would destroy it later. A short while later, she replied in her usual succinct fashion “I have it.” She later said that she will come to me when the time is right. I don’t know what she means by that, it sounds a bit ominous, but I imagine that she has her hands full with the fallout of the dragon’s return and the declaration of war against our people.
We are halfway to the bridge, we had a skirmish with some undead in the woods nearby, that fortunately was handled without too much trouble. Some of them were winged monstrosities… I pulled out the floating disk and handed it to Grimaldus, figuring he would want to use it. He passed it over to Dekar, who looked at it with such an expression of glee, I was a bit worried he wouldn’t return it. Fortunately, he did hand it back, and it is once again tucked securely in my bag of holding.
Now that everyone is settling down for the evening’s rest, my mind is playing over all of the events of the past few days… it is all a jumble, and will take me some time to sort it out… if it can even be sorted out… I do think I realize now why my interaction with Damian affected me so…
I have been on edge ever since we arrived in Loec. This is a place that I swore to myself I would never willingly set foot, and yet, I have voluntarily teleported here twice. Then, I spoke with Filandrel… who sent me to speak with Gerard. I don’t know why he wanted me to find Gerard in that chapel… and am more confused because of it. Why would Filandrel want me to talk to someone who so blatantly blames him for so many things, including the death of Damian’s sister?
Then, Dekar’s inaction on the Hill of Suicides. After speaking with him, I do understand where he was coming from, why he did what he did, although I still fault him for not speaking up at the time. If he had told us we were wrong to fight the spirits and remove the bones, and had given us the explanation of why, I do not think we would have destroyed the Sorrows…
After that… when I walked away, I decided to contact Damian… needless to say, that didn’t go as I was expecting… I thought that I would be able offer him some comfort and support… I wasn’t expecting to be attacked like that. He started as soon as I arrived, and didn’t stop until Inira interfered and broke my concentration. I thought that speaking with Damian would be a reprieve of sorts, if a sorrowful one. The Damian I encountered was the last thing I was expecting…
To top it off, Inira had the presumption to think I will freeze up in battle against the undead. Frankly, that’s insulting. And then for Grimaldus to tell me my head isn’t in the right space if I want to live? Does he have any idea the places my mind has been? Does he know how deep in the darkest reaches of my mind I have been, and still I’ve survived this far? I can see what he was trying to do, but he went about it in a harsh, human fashion that is not usually his way.
It isn’t freezing up that I’m worried about… I’m more concerned that my mind will go down the dark path that it was after the war… and that I might not be able to pull myself back from the brink this time. That is truly what is terrifying. I don’t want to lose my will. I don’t want to lose myself. And that is the road that I almost took before, and it was my time in the woods of Alcarin with Ravlor that brought me back to myself.
I had a glimpse of that same peace in Wei Jang after we first arrived, but that faded when we arrived in Loec. Grimaldus is partially correct, in that I need to figure my mind out, or I won’t be able to function at my best… there is just too much jumbled around my mind right now. I need to get some semblance of mental order before we attack this bridge.
I find myself wishing that Ravlor had come east with us… I could really use his counsel right now…
Sins, Guilt, and Monstrosities
19th of Solae, 1485
19th of Solae, 1485
Last night was embarrassing. I hope no one mentions it. I don’t remember much, except being very relaxed and having odd thoughts running through my head… something about Elves being related to birds?… I frankly don’t want to relive my thoughts or behavior last night… I hope it wasn’t too embarrassing.
We traveled by coach to the Cathedral of Guilt, or Chapel of Guilt, honestly, for once in my life, I cannot be bothered to remember the proper name of somewhere… it must be an effect of this cursed place. I know that I have the potential to learn answers here, but I wish that Filandrel would have told me himself, instead of telling me to go seek out someone I’ve met before at the Chapel of Sins…
There was an undead knight standing outside the Church of Guilt. He invited everyone inside to be cleansed of their sins. Invited inside a chapel, or cathedral, that is populated by undead in Loec of all places, to be cleansed of guilt? I wasn’t surprised when Inira entered, but I was a bit more surprised when Dekar, Hasim and Rowan accompanied her. They came out sometime later, their hair dripping with water, and looking in turn, disturbed and relieved. I don’t know what happened in there, but I’m inclined to think that it was a different experience for each one, probably relating to their differing levels of comfort and relationship with undeath.
We walked a bit further until we came upon the Chapel of Sins… we all entered this time. I could see a figure sitting at the front of the chapel, by the altar. He looked familiar, yet it took me a minute to place him. Sir Gerard Valerious, the very same paladin whom I traveled with in Crastvongrad… He looked at me as though I was an illusion, until I think he realized that I was indeed the same Inara Edhelhael that he had met and traveled with not too long ago… he was barely recognizable, his armor charred and battered.
Instead of greeting me, he looked up and asked if this was a test. I asked him what he meant. He seemed to disbelieve my presence. I informed him that I was told I would find him here.
He asked who told me.
“Filandrel.” I replied.
“The elf.” He spat, the venom in his voice catching my attention.
“Do you not see who stands before you?” I shot back, gesturing at myself.
He wasn’t making enough logical sense for me to record his words here… they were random and stilted. The gist of it though, is that he claims Filandrel led him east, convinced him to give his sword to a girl, and the real threat was to the southwest. He lost Viktor, the piece of shit creature who he traveled with as a keeper in Crastvongrad. Damian’s twisted “brother”… who apparently murdered the Runestone empress… Damian’s younger sister.
Fuck.
Gerard seems to blame Filandrel for this… something that I don’t know if he is simply angry, or if he is telling the truth. Surely, with his sources, Filandrel would know of Gerard’s feelings towards himself, and if so… why would he send me here to talk to Gerard? Why does Filandrel want me to hear from Gerard of Damian’s sister’s murder? Why didn’t he tell me himself?
“I was told I would find somebody I know here.” I began.
“Who told you such a thing?” Gerard interrupted. “Who TOLD you just a thing?”
“Filandrel.”
“The elf.” He spat, then sat heavily on the ground, an obviously broken man. “The elf who led me east. Away from that thing.”
“What are you…” I tried to ask, but Gerard ignored me, continuing as though I hadn’t spoken.
“The elf who told me to give my sword to that girl. The elf I trusted. He is yours, your master?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Do you understand what he is? Do you understand what he orchestrated? Do any of you know?” He was practically shouting at me.
“Know what?” I raised my voice to try to get through to him. “He said that you would give me answers, answers he didn’t feel like giving.”
He looks at me. “I lost track of the creature and was led east, by the elf. I was told thatI would find a girl, wandering westward and to the north. In our travels, I gave her my sword and my blessing, so that she may be safe from the monstrosity out there, the lich who dwells in the city. By the time I started to turn, I got the news, just last night.”
“Turn what?” I interrupted.
“Back west. To seek Viktor before it was too late.”
“You got what news?” I asked, a knot of dread forming in the pit of my stomach.
“The empress is dead.” Gerard stated with self-loathing.
“What?”
“Killed by the beast that was once under my charge…” Gerard continued.
“You let Viktor GO?” I interrupted.
“I was led astray by YOUR master! I was told to come East.” He snapped back.
I took a deep breath. “Why?”
“I wonder that too. I broke EVERY OATH I HAD to chase that beast. I have nothing.
The Empress lies dead.” Pain and guilt were warring on his face.
“Damian’s sister?” I asked quietly.
“Yes.” Gerard’s tone was finally more measured. “The creature escaped. The archlecter of the church exposed as a great dragon. Half of the imperial fleet, broken. All in one night.”
“What? What happened?”
“We were deceived. Your master had some hand in it, I know it. I’m sorry to tell you this way. I don’t know what he intends to orchestrate, or why he did what he did, but that girl did not have to die at the hands of that creature. I failed.” He sounded lost. I couldn’t blame him for that. “So, I came here, in hopes of some form of redemption…”
“What of Damian?” I asked. Please don’t tell me that Damian is dead…
“Wounded but alive.” Gerard reassured me.
“Was anyone else there?”
“The others I hear, your master, other figures… those who were around during the declaration of war by the dragon.” He explained.
“What declaration of war?” Filandrel mentioned that a war was likely incoming… he didn’t mention anything about this dragon, or any open declaration of war having already happened…
“War against elves, mutants, and the rest.”
Fuck. “What happened to the dragon?”
“He was exposed. The imperial dragon has returned once more. The first born of Tiamat and Bahamut himself.”
“Who else was there?” I asked. “And how do you know Filandrel had anything to do with it?”
“I am familiar with your master’s spells. His serpent was there.”
I sighed. “That’s just a conjuration…”
“Conjured by your master!” Gerard huffed.
“Anybody can conjure it.” I felt like I was trying to explain conjuration to a child.
“Not that elemental.” He insisted. “It answers only to your master. A snake, over a hundred feet long made of stone. Petr Pogojuwitz, your master, the assassination of the empress… it was all to coincidental.”
“When?” I asked, still not entirely sure he hadn’t lost his mind of something.of the like.
Gerard went on to explain that a few remaining members of his order gave him the news. He explained that the girl he had given his blessing and his sword to, apparently at Filandrel’s behest, had been there as well, leading two score ships from the campaign in the north. My mind was elsewhere as he talked, until three words snapped me back to the present.
“Gaius is dead.”
I found myself laughing, only paused by Gerard’s shocked and hurt expression. “I’m sorry. On so many levels. I am truly sorry for your loss.”
“He might have been a fool at times, but the man was useful for all of us.” Gerard was offended.
“Gaius was a coward.”
“I have seen him charge into a group of fifty men.” He defended.
“I have seen him leave an army to die.”
“You realize who made that choice? You speak of the second fight at the Twin Rivers?” I nodded and he continued in his insistence that Gaius was blameless. “The choice wasn’t the Union’s, it was the dwarves’.”
“I saw Gaius…” I began, only to be interrupted once again.
“The line was broken, they rallied eastward, leaving the flank exposed.” Gerard explained. “The elves came through the Diluvian, and the dwarves wandered away, chasing their axe and their glory.”
“And I saw Gaius fly overhead, look down at us, and continue flying.” I didn’t bother to try hiding my condemnation.
“To mitigate a greater loss. Do you know what was at the other side? Why Gaius…”
"I was currently trying to not die.” I interrupted harshly.
“Wyverns. Hundreds of them. Led by drow. I was there too, you know… If there’s anyone to blame, it’s the dwarves. Gaius did everything he had to do.” I never realized that Gerard was so very fond of Gaius…
“I am sorry for your loss.” I said quietly.
“Either way, the empress lies dead.” Said the defeated Gerard. “The throne is broken, the empire is on the verge of civil war, and war has been declared against anything that isn’t a man.”
“As the declaration was made by a dragon… wouldn’t he be declaring war on himself?” Inira asked. To be honest, I had forgotten that the rest of the party was standing not far away.
“The dragon pact means that the imperial family has to answer.” Gerard explained. “Once the throne answers, it will be a civil war. Houses will rally with them and houses will rally against them. The dragon signifies the strength of the Three, as the dragon was blessed by the Three himself. The victory at the Red Valley was at the hands of this dragon, after all, you see.”
“So he fought on your side?” Inira asked.
“He fought on all our sides. Why he chooses to wage war against Elves, and everything else, I don’t know. Or why he shows up now. I don’t understand it either.”
I do… I thought to myself, thinking back to my conversation with Filandrel… the dragon fears us, fears the potential of our blood, whatever that means exactly I’m not sure, and I hope that I’m never placed in a position to find out…
“Why are you all here?” Gerard asked.
“Trying to kill a different dragon in the east.” Inira replied.
This can’t be a coincidence.
They began talking about the “bath” they took in the cathedral earlier. Then, Gerard revealed that he accepted a pact with Secilia’s patron… he claims that he didn’t have a choice. What is it with men and claiming they don’t have a choice, as if free will is something that they only acknowledge whenever it is most convenient for them, and not when the right choice is one that will make their existence harder?
After introductions were given to the rest of the party, Gerard agreed to meet up with us later at the Inn of Ill Omen.
Not long after, we arrived outside the Mother of Churches. A bloody man was standing in the courtyard, bearing a sign stapled to his flesh. He told Inira and Secilia that if we wanted to speak with the Oracle, then we would need to bring bones from the Hill of Suicides. Something about laying them to rest.
We went to this hill. It was very disturbing, the sheer number of skeletons. Why would so many people choose to throw their lives away in this manner? Human lives are fleeting as it is… why shorten them further? Then, I saw the children… bones of two young children, their legs broken from where they jumped to their death, arms entwined about each other as if they sought comfort from the other as they plunged to their deaths. The skeleton of a woman, cradling that of a babe in her arms…
Memories swept in, unbidden and unwanted. A mother in tears, both her and her children covered in the black oozing substance that would slowly mutate them into beasts. The look in her eyes as she pleaded with me, begged me to do something to save her children, even if it was too late for her. They clung to her skirt, crying. There was nothing to be done. Then entire village would mutate soon. She would turn on her children, or they on her, and there was only one way to stop it…
I didn’t care so much for humans then… not as I do now. But that family… it haunted me the way they burned to ash. The mother’s face when I looked into her eyes and said “I am so sorry.”, before I unleashed the flames, ending their life in the quickest and most painless way that I knew how. Instant incineration.
I can still hear Damian screaming at us to stop, as he was flailing around blindly that night. Damian cried, as the rest of us killed the entire village. Every man, woman, and child. They were all corrupted, or were covered in the substance from which there was no cure. I hate to think of what would have happened if we had listened to Damian, moved on and let them live… how many more villages would be dead now? Torn to pieces, unspeakable horrors done to them?
I don’t regret what we did. But that mother and her children still haunt me… and when I looked upon the bones of the children holding each other, and that of the woman and her babe… I couldn’t help but see the face of the mother and hear her pleas, right before I killed them. I tell myself that at least it was quick, as painless as I could make it, and they died together… but sometimes, when I am faced with something like this… I wonder…
I pulled out the black floating disc from my bag, and we loaded up some of the skeletons. I made sure that the ones grabbed were those of the children and the mother and her babe. If no one else gets to be at peace, I at least wanted it to be the children.
As we moved to leave the hill, three ghostly women appeared. Inira and Secilia talked with them, I was ready to be done with this whole place. I don’t know who attacked whom, but a fight broke out. We were all fighting, except Dekar. Dekar just stood there and did nothing! He didn’t say anything and he didn’t do anything! I turned and shouted at him to do something, and he didn’t. He just impassively stood there and did NOTHING.
After defeating the spectres, we headed for the Mother of Churches. I kept glancing over at Dekar, but he wouldn’t look at me, he was just brooding and sullen. Did he freeze up? I’ve never seen him hesitate in a fight before… normally he does the polar opposite…
Anyway, what we found in the Mother of Churches was a monstrosity. Not that I found that surprising in the least… apparently this creature was once a woman, a saint, they say. She said her name is Aya, and she is one who broke the wall… so, I’m not entirely sure if she should be a saint or condemned, but it seems like she was condemned for it… and is bound to this place, in this form. To be perfectly honest, I stopped paying much attention when she was talking to Secilia about three humiliations that she will encounter… my mind was focused more on Dekar, and his complete inaction on the hill.
After a time, we made our way back to the inn. Gerard is here, and soon we will be setting out for his encampment…
A Journey Home
18th of Solae, 1485
Eighteenth of Solae, 1485
Our teleportation to Alcarin was thankfully uneventful. As soon as we arrived in the gardens, I could feel some of the tension that has been accumulating in my body over the past few days simply melt away with each step I took. Secilia was gazing around as though she’s never seen anything like it, and I had to remind myself that she hasn’t – that this is all completely new to her…
As we walked, she found a sense of familiarity in some things… a few of the symbols on the graves that we passed, and a mother singing to her child. Secilia recognized the song, a wood elven ballad. That, combined with the sigil that she recognized, led me to believe that she is descended from one of the wood elven families, a theory that was confirmed as soon as we arrived at my childhood home.
My mother’s first reaction, after her surprise at seeing me, was to ask why I am in the company of a wood elf. I explained that Secilia is my friend, and she is a half elf whose mother died when she was very young, and I promised her to show her what Elven parents are like. I gently admonished them both, asking them to please be nice. That seemed to mollify her somewhat, and Adar** invited Secilia to join us for a meal.
Amille* though? I should have known that she would have the most difficulty. She was unvaryingly polite, but there was a frost to her voice when she spoke to Secilia that I am not accustomed to hearing… “Where are you from?” She asked.
Secilia replied that she is from the Three Towns. That answer seemed to mean something different to my parents, for my father looked concerned, as my mother continued. “It is said that the people of the Three Towns are hardy, but the town is often besieged by undead.”
Adar caught my eye, and commented “So you have bonded over something, it seems.”
I wish that I had some more time to visit with them, but alas, the hour was beginning to grow late, and my mind was burning with questions that needed answering. We had a comfortable, if stiffly formal, meal with my parents, and then Secilia and I set off towards Alcarin proper and more specifically, Egig Ero Fa.
*Amille = "mother"
**Adar = "Father"
Filandrel
As we walked toward Egig Ero Fa, I asked Secilia if I could have her talisman for the time being. She handed it to me, and I left her waiting at the teleportation circle in the gardens. I realize now that I should have left her explicit instructions, rather than simply “please wait for me right here”… but alas, I suppose that I overestimated her deductive reasoning…
As I made my way through the grounds and up to Filandrel’s tower, it was almost as though I hadn’t ever left… except for the tight knot of unease gripping me in the pit of my stomach. I made my way to his door and knocked, feeling more like an errant student more than I care to admit…
Filandrel’s voice called to enter, and I stepped into his study. He looked up as I entered, and slowly closed his book and set it aside. He just sat there, saying nothing for a full minute.
Finally, he spoke, and I could feel myself exhale the breath that I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “Tea?” He asked. At my nod, a cup of tea floated over to me. I took a sip. It was delicious, and as it had in the past, the tea fortified me for the conversation to come… although this would be a much harder conversation than any before, and not because of the complication of academia.
“I have some questions…” I said carefully.
“Go ahead.” Filandrel replied, his tone so reminiscent of my memories. “I have time, for you.”
“There are so many questions… but you never really answered me before… why did you select me?”
“Your father is a carpenter, correct?” He asked, his reply surprising me with its direction. “He taught you to appreciate the work that we can bring through our hands, our dedication… Now, would you argue that magic could make a piece of furniture, but does it make it art? Does it bear the same significance, the same mark?” He rapped his knuckles on the table, which I recognized as one of the ones I watched my father fashion and carve when I was a child.
When I didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “Your bloodline was a factor, that part is true, my girl. Your upbringing, though, that was needed as well. I needed someone who could appreciate the more… fleeting things.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “The more fleeting things?”
Filandrel sighed. “We live in this wood, far away from the world and clinging onto a past that we will never again have. Meanwhile, the outside world rots and it does so more quickly with the passing time… I needed someone who was outside of this wood, who could understand more than what’s in it.”
“But… you speak of fleeting things, yet all you want to do is to bring back what once was…”
“If you break a plate and you put it back together, is it the same?”
I shook my head. “It’s broken.”
“Can you ever really make it whole again? There are cracks and marks, and no amount of magic or hope is going to fix that. The hope is that we can reclaim a portion of what was lost, to escape the inevitable end we were never meant to have.”
“If that wasn’t the case, why didn’t you explain any of that to me earlier?” I asked, not even bothering to hide the skepticism from my voice. “Why did you lie to me for all those years?”
“You needed to be ready. There are many truths our kind consider… inconvenient.”
“But wouldn’t it have been better to raise me on the truth?” I countered, unable to hide the hurt in my eyes. “I trusted you without question. I looked up to you more than my own father…”
“Men and Elves often kill for the truth. It was protection, in every form of the word.” Filandrel replied patiently.
I shook my head. “Why? I fail to see how lying to me about all this is protecting me…”
Filandrel sighed. “The less you knew of our past, of the arrangements of Egig Ero Fa, and the imminent future, the longer you could be kept safe.”
I was silent for a minute, before I spoke, forcing my voice to be steady. “Did you ever actually care about me, or was that a lie too? Was any of it real? Any of my training… any of our conversations?”
“Yes.” Filandrel replied. “All of that was real, and still is.”
When I didn’t reply, just stood there looking at my former master, he continued gently. “If you are asking for proof… my respect for your space, and our conversation here should speak for itself in that regard…”
“But how can I know that you aren’t just “protecting” me from something else you don’t want me to know about?” I asked, my skepticism warring with my emotions.
“You are free to ask whatever you like.” Filandrel opened his hands. “I will answer it.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that… and Filandrel filled the silence. “Would you like to know why so few of us exist now? Why we have so many ruins and battered kingdoms?”
I knew he was deflecting, but I couldn’t deny my curiosity. “Yes.”
“We breed slowly, sure… not to mention the disasters that have come before us… Men won against the dragons, using our help – the magic that we taught them. The old tale tells us that. However, there is a secret… I want you to recall that dragons are the lifeblood of this world, diametrically opposed to the Eldest of the First World.”
Almost as though he didn’t even realize it, Filandrel quickly fell back into the methodologies of a lecturer as he spoke. In an odd way, I found it almost comforting.
“In times past, the two kept each other in check. As we are children of the Eldest, men quickly learned of a cheap and efficient weapon against the dragons, one that could be harnessed by an entire army… Our blood.”
“What?”
“Very few know this, we’ve taken much trouble to hide the truth. The truth being that the blood of elves is diametrically opposed to the blood of dragons. It could be used to slay them… a cheaper and more efficient tool than magic.” His tone sharpened. “Why do you think that so many wars have happened between men and Elves in ages past and then suddenly, none.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it…”
“Lara Durdain was defending her people from men who had learned that truth, and a bloody war was waged for survival.” Filandrel was watching me, his gaze piercing. “Now what do you think would happen if, say, the lich Vignir, or Vlatrossi Melkinov learned of this? This sort of knowledge places us in danger that is proportional to the fear that they will have for the dragons.”
“I don’t know…” I replied. “When I spoke with Vlatrossi Melkinov, he seemed like a fairly broken man…”
“His mind will soon give,” Filandrel admitted. “When it does, let us hope that he’s too old or feeble to be dangerous. He has done much for the acceptance of Elves and magic in his lands, we owe him a debt for that. However, he peered far too deeply into the abyss, and his mind can no longer look away from those that peer back.”
“The elves in Crastvongrad didn’t seem to feel the same…” I commented, thinking of the animosity that the elves in that region felt towards the human ruler.
“They have suffered much. Perhaps in another generation, the sentiment will change.”
“Oh… but if he is an ally to our people, then why would he seek to harm us, if, as you say, the dragons are almost gone?” I could see skepticism rising on Filandrel’s face, so I quickly added. “I’m not saying that I trust him… far from it, in fact… but I still want to know.”
“So, what are you actually saying?”
“There is something coming… we don’t know when, but it is coming.”
“There is a great, black dragon in the east, going after Wei Jang.”
Filandrel just stared at me, expressionless for a moment. “So, it is true that the decimator of cities has returned…”
Now it was my turn to stare incredulously until he elaborated. “A former instructor of Egig Ero Fa has been in the region performing research.”
“Who?” I asked. “I’ve only come across one other elf while I’ve been there…”
“Galion.” He replied.
At the name, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a shudder ran through my body. “What?”
“He is in the south, looking into matters involving the primeval kings. Historical work.” Filandrel explained.
“He shouldn’t even have a job…” I muttered under my breath. “Perverted creep.”
“Yes,” Filandrel said placatingly. “But good talent is hard to come by, and his skillset towards graverobbing and reading ancient texts is difficult to replace.”
“Where is he?” I asked. “So I know how to avoid him… I don’t want to deal with that again… ever…”
“You likely won’t run into him.” Filandrel assured me. “Last I heard, he was still near the Tombs of the Primeval Kings.”
“I can probably take him now…” it slipped out under my breath. “But, if he’s that useful, I don’t you want me to do what I will do if I see him again… if he so much as speaks to me…”
“You are an adult.” Filandrel cut in harshly. “I am sure you can show restraint and handle your affairs sensibly.”
I sighed in exasperation. I know he was right… I was being immature about it. After all, I did cause Galion to lose his comfortable position at Egig Ero Fa. I hope the eastern sun burns him…
Returning to the important matters at hand, I said. “I did meet one of our people there… he claims to have known you from your younger years.”
“I spoke with this elf.” I continued. “An axiomyte. He says that he knew you when you were fledglings in the first world…”
Filandrel’s voice chilled, hardened. “What else did he tell you?” He didn’t wait for my reply before continuing. “He should be dead. Imprisoned, actually, taken by the Judge himself to serve penance for his atrocities.”
“He claims…” how to ask this? I took a deep breath to steel myself. “Please tell me this isn’t true… but he claims that you, and he, killed three thousand of our people to create one of the Wells… the Well of Sorrows north of Runestone.”
Filandrel launched himself out of his seat, flipping the table. His face was a mask of fury as he bit out. “Did he tell you that I begged him not to? Did he tell you what the risk was? Did he tell you what I LOST THAT DAY?!”
“No. What did you fucking lose?” I shouted back. Now I’m a bit embarrassed about it, but at the time, I was angry. Filandrel had never shouted at me. I understand that it was an outburst torn from his grief and pain, and likely guilt, but still… he had never, in my entire life studying under him, he had never lost his temper like that… and I was embarrassed to feel moisture gather in my eyes.
“Three thousand of our kin held the line and were closed off, so we could create the anchor. Then comes Gaius of Astoria, and his wizard, and they shatter it!”
I took a deep breath to calm myself back down and asked, quieter this time. “What did you lose?”
Filandrel was obviously trying to deflect my question, so I pushed a bit harder. “For once, just tell me the fucking truth… What did you lose?”
“Half of myself was lost that day.” His voice sounded broken. I almost feel guilty for having pushed him… I have no desire to drudge up memories of losing one’s love, but at the same time, I needed to know.
“I have lived so long, lost so many, and seen so much that I don’t even know who I am anymore. But a monster is not one of those things. My heart is ice. I don’t even think I can feel much else anymore.”
I felt the first tear fall, as I dashed it away. “What do you mean, your heart is ice?”
“All of the pain, the cruelty, and loss… the scars have grown too thick… I wish I could cry. I don’t think I even remember how anymore...” Filandrel’s voice was cold, and I wondered who he was trying to convince, me or himself.
After a minute of silence, Filandrel looked at me and asked quietly. “Are these the truths you wished you knew?”
I just sat there, overwhelmed by pain and guilt. “No… but yes… I wish I knew about the Well… are they all like that? Did each one cost thousands of Elven lives?”
Filandrel nodded, his confirmation feeling like a dagger plunging into my heart.
“They hold the memories of all those who perished.” He explained. “The accumulated knowledge of our people. We can tap into them in our time of need.”
“Oh.” I could feel my mind begin to spiral, thinking of all of the consequences for what I did in Crastvongrad…
“Anastasia found one,” Filandrel continued, “fought the witch of the east to protect it.”
“I thought the Princess destroyed it…” I said.
“She took the knowledge within herself, the Well collapsed afterward. With it, we were able to find Lolth’s web, and ended the Five Thousand Year War.”
“Oh… Why did Gaius destroy the Well?” I asked.
“Fear for what they don’t understand,” was Filandrel’s bitter reply.
“Is it possible for them to corrupt? The Wells?” I asked.
“No.” Filandrel replied. “But I suspect that Anastasia may be influenced by the memories of the witch… how the witch was able to secure her own memories within the Well is… curious. Likely a result from her lineage.”
“Titania?”
Filandrel nodded. “What we know as the lingering shade of our mother-goddess, yes.”
“Oh… what would happen in a Well did become corrupted? Say, some dark entity invaded it?” I was hoping that he would just answer my question, as he seemed to be in an unusually forthcoming mood.
“They would have access to the souls and memories of thousands of our people… it has only happened once.”
I was about to reply with another question, but Filandrel held up his hand, forestalling any further questions. “Allow me to explain to you… the memories of our people. And then I will answer your questions… but first” he paused. “Please help me to right this table.”
I helped him set the table back upright, and he floated another cup of tea over, before launching into his explanation…
“Long ago, an Elvish king in the far north, fought a great and terrible creature. An angel, born of a time before the gods. There were five such beings in this world, regarded as the fingers of the black one. He took the power of the Well and used the souls of his people to defeat the beast. Using necromancy, he bound his spirit so that he may return, should it ever need protection. The lands died, the trees withered, and the birds left. Only him, and his kingdom of the dead remained.”
“Where was this king?” I asked.
“Far to the north of Loec, at the northern borders of Crastvongrad, near Northend… the veil is weakened further. Every Well that collapses brings us closer to the First World.”
“Weakened the veil?” I asked. “Would such a Well prey upon memories instead of holding them?”
I should have known better than to try to dance around a question with Filandrel. “What are you trying to say?” he asked.
When I finally met his gaze, I saw none of the anger or condemnation that I was dreading. I only saw calm patience – the expression so familiar that it was almost comforting. “I think I might have made a grave mistake…”
“Go on…” he encouraged.
“After Mustafat, and the bendeth in the tree, which I’m assuming you know about… I took Ravlor to Crassard. Vlatrossi Melkinov offered to restore his eyes in exchange for the story of our fight against Mustafat and the bendeth… I didn’t trust him at all, but I agreed… because it was Ravlor…” I shrugged helplessly.
“So, I told him of my journey and the events leading up to the battle against Mustafat. I told him everything except of Lara Durdain’s staff and our disagreements. Personal matters are definitely none of his business. None of it was, really… but he offered to restore Ravlor.”
I found that as soon as I began talking, I couldn’t stop myself. The entire story just spilled off of my tongue as though some metaphorical floodgates had opened… I told him of Sir Gerard’s arrival, bearing the head of a demon that he had slain while searching for a missing druid. I told him of Vlatrossi’s inability to reach the local Elven princess, Coerlia, and how Vlatrossi had made those two things, locating the druid and the princess, conditions of his healing and restoring Ravlor.
I told Filandrel that even though I hadn’t wanted to, I accepted the mission… ending in a success… we found the druid, who turned out to be the gnome, Priscilla Tringles, and killed the demon who was holding her captive. It was the search for Coerlia that led to the most danger – as our search led us into the upper reaches of Narvoth. I didn’t go into too much detail about our journey into the underdark, as it wasn’t the main reason why I was telling Filandrel this story in the first place…
I told him of the odd glade that we found, where the laws of nature itself were bent and warped. At its center was the Well. Priscilla insisted that the Well was corrupting the land around it, and itself was allowing demons to pass through. I stopped speaking then, watching Filandrel to see if he had any comment thus far.
Filandrel was thoughtful. “I see….” He said finally. “The princess may have been using it… or whatever dwelt near the Well was using her and the Well…”
“We entered the Well.” I said quietly. “We all did. It was one of the most horrible experiences of my entire life… almost as bad as Twin Rivers.”
Filandrel looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
“We didn’t walk through memories, per se… I thought the Wells were supposed to house the memories of our people, not some dark voice that got into my head, even though I thought I was protected by this.” I said, holding up my hand to display my ring of mind shielding.
“The creature in the Well…” Filandrel interjected, “did you encounter something?”
I nodded. “It preyed on our memories… not even real memories… more like memories warped by our worst nightmares… and everyone saw it…”
“We entered different chambers, and each chamber held a personal hell for a different person…” I averted my eyes as I continued. “It manifested the Battle of the Burning Field… except Ravlor was there as an undead and he came to kill me, along with a group of deathknights… I heard a dark voice in my mind, telling me that there was no one to save me that time. The worst part was that it wasn’t merely a figment of my imagination. I thought it was, at first.” I looked up to find that Filandrel was watching me intently. “Their weapons actually injured us…”
Filandrel nodded. “A powerful simulacra, only the most adept of illusionists could muster such a thing.”
I nodded and he continued. “This thing… it was vanquished? Did it want something?”
I nodded again. “In a further chamber… there was a winged body laying in state. It looked like it had been torn apart, but it also looked whole, if that makes any sense… it freaked Meriwald out… he started shrieking that bad things had happened there and we needed to leave. I don’t know what it was, but it utterly terrified him. He screamed that it was bad, and he doesn’t know why he remembers it, he didn’t know what it was, but something bad happened to him there.”
“There were intoners who lingered and aided our escape…” Filandrel explained. “Their spirits were split and shattered… that Well was one such place where we ran from the Queen. Meriwald is one such heroic spirit… a small piece of something that was once larger. You will find that many of the familiars within the wood bear such a lineage.” He paused. “How they come to manifest and choose, even I do not know. He must have chosen you for a reason…”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged.
“So what did you do then?” he asked, even though I’m sure he already knew the answer.
“I listened to Meriwald and tried to leave as quickly as we could. But, there was a spectre of a witch…”
Filandrel raised an eyebrow as I continued. “She attacked us, demanding that we take her to Melkinov. We defeated her and another, physically manifested witch… As she died, or dissipated, or whatever happened, the Well began to collapse around us.”
“Anastasia mentioned that Vlatrossi Melkinov had a “black pit” where he cast down a troublesome witch… this is troublesome…” Filandrel’s brow furrowed. “With the loss of another anchor, our danger heightens.”
With that last sentence, I felt the weight of guilt pressing down on me like a heavy boot on my chest. “I was afraid of that.” I said quietly.
Filandrel shook his head. “It was inevitable… we knew it from the beginning.”
“…and I just made it worse…”
“It isn’t your fault.” Filandrel said gently.
“How can you say that?” I didn’t even bother to hide my cracking voice.
“You had to protect yourself, yes?”
I nodded miserably. “Yes, but… if I had known what was going on, I could have left well enough alone.”
Filandrel shook his head. “The princess would have used it, or it her… you prevented possible calamity between the Elves and the Crastvongradi.”
“But at what cost?” I asked bitterly.
“Inara… do you have the power to undo the past?”
I shook my head and tried to explain. “When we defeated Mustafat, it was at the cost of the lives of 54 royal guards… their blood is on my hands too…”
“Then make sure it was worth it.” Filandrel said. His harsh tone made me glance up and catch his eyes. “Knowing what you know now…” he continued. “You may need to begin considering your purpose… Will you choose to hide, amongst the meek? Or will you find meaning within your pain?”
“Meaning within my pain?” I heard myself scoff a bit. “What meaning is there to be found?”
Filandrel shrugged and said: “That part is up to you.”
“Pain is pain.” I replied bitterly. “It must be healed from or left behind.”
“But would you be able to rest easy?” He asked. “Knowing what is imminent?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I snapped. “I didn’t know who else to ask about any of this, so I came to see you. To be honest, I didn’t want to… I wanted to take more time and think about everything, but in the end, I decided I needed to speak with you.”
“Does coming here make you feel better or worse?” Filandrel asked gently.
“I don’t know.” I replied honestly. “There is something else I need to know…:
“You were always curious,” Filandrel chuckled, “Ever since you were young.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse…” I admitted. “I have spent most of my life wanting to make you proud. I wanted so desperately to prove that you made a good decision by picking me instead of any of the nobles who cut their eye teeth on the arcane. I cut mine in my mother’s garden and my father’s workshop…”
“I have lived for many of our lifetimes.” Filandrel said earnestly. “I know mistakes… you are not one of them.”
I smiled. I wanted so badly for that to be the truth.
“So, what other questions do you have?” he asked.
“There is … do you promise me you’ll tell me the truth?” I looked at the books and papers scattered around the floor, anywhere but at him.
“That depends… inconvenient truths are often hidden for a reason.” Filandrel said vaguely. “What do you wish to know?”
“So… when last we spoke, outside Yaharghul, after you left, we were talking. And some things came to light, that I really don’t want to believe…”
“And what is that?”
I looked directly into his eyes as I asked: “Are you the one that they call the Pale Master?”
Filandrel studied me for a minute. “Do you really want the answer to that question?”
“I need the answer to that question.” I whispered.
Filandrel waved his hand in an intricate pattern, undoing the glamour that he had apparently been holding on himself for my entire life. A youthful looking elf was revealed beneath the glamour, wearing an elaborate blue and silver archmage’s robe. His long blond hair was worn in the same style as his dark, peppered hair had been. His eyes were no longer the deep green that I was accustomed to, instead they were piercing and grey. A singular scar marred his alabaster face, running from the bottom of his lip all of the way down his chin and throat, until it disappeared beneath the neckline of his robe.
“Does this answer your question?” He asked.
“Who are you, really?” I asked, not bothering to hide the hurt betrayal in my voice, and no doubt, written all over my face. “I’ve known you my entire life, looked up to you my entire life… and I don’t even know your real name.”
“I have had a lot of names over a very long time, girl.” Filandrel replied calmly. “But yes, I am the Pale Master.”
“Why?” I asked quietly.
“Because our people need hope.” He stated.
“How do you, being what I heard about, give our people hope?”
“You’re not aware, are you? Of what’s happened?” Filandrel, or whoever he actually is, raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to choose a side soon.”
“A side in what?” I was growing tired of his cryptic answers.
“The likely conflict that is to come. It’s not my place to tell you, however… you’re in Loec, yes?” he stated.
“I was at the moment.” How does he know exactly where I came from?
“In the Mother of Churches, nearby lies the Chapel of Sins. There you’ll find someone you met before. I may not have been able to scry on you, but I’ve kept a close eye on you… Speak to him. It’s not my place to speak of it.” He replied, answering my unspoken question.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” I was embarrassed at hurt my voice sounded.
“What would you have believed?” He asked, rather harshly. “With what you know now, how would your opinion have changed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if you had been truthful with me my whole life, I would…”
“You’re still young.” Filandrel interrupted. “You understand that. And I’m not saying that as a matter of disdain or to patronize you. I say that as a matter of fact. You are young. You will have to wait for certain answers, particularly amongst our people.”
“You want me to say “I’m sorry”, and I’ll be having to say it all day.” He sighed. “Go to the chapel of sins. Afterwards, make your choice.”
“Was anything you ever told me the truth?” Even to my own ears, I sounded like I was grasping.
“Every word.” Filandrel said implacably. “Except for this. And this was done solely for your safety, and the safety of those that I know.”
“Our very conversation here is a risk.” He continued. “I have placed my heart on a platter for you. I can’t do much else.”
“Thank you.”
“Be safe. And if you choose to face this dragon, make a choice first.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Go to the Chapel of Sins, near the Mother of Churches.”
I turned to take my leave, pausing when I reached the door. “I never wanted to lose you…”
Filandrel caught my hand. “You won’t. Go on, girl. You have much to do.”
“Don’t lie to me again.”
Filandrel smiled. “No. Never.”
* * *
With that, I left. My mind was swirling as I made my way back to the teleportation circle and Secilia. Only to find that Secilia wasn’t there… damn her human impatience!
I scried on her, and found her wandering around the wood elf section of houses nearby. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I did bring her to the home of her mother’s family and then ask her to wait. However, I asked her to wait for a reason. I would have brought her back again if we’d needed to make a quick getaway from Alcarin on this day. Fortunately that was not the case, for we would have been in a great deal of trouble had I needed to use her talisman to leave Filandrel’s chambers – only to find that she wasn’t where I left her!
Secilia commented that I should have told her why I wanted her to wait, and I can see if from her perspective, for how many times have I asked Filandrel for an explanation, only to be disappointed? However… I did only ask her for less than an hour of her time… I do wish that she would have had the patience and wherewithal to deduce that I was asking her to wait by the teleportation circle for a very specific purpose. When have I ever asked for her talisman? Only this once… and that is because, if my conversation with Filandrel had taken a turn for the worse, I wanted to be able to leave quickly, without needing to cast a spell – which he could have surely countered. I suppose that is what I deserve for assuming that Secilia had inherited a modicum of patience from her Elven mother…
Secilia asked me something about taking her to her hometown at some point after this is over… I honestly wasn’t paying too much attention to what she said at that point, as I was admittedly irritated and disappointed with her. I shall have to wait to ask her later.
We teleported back to Loec shortly thereafter, arriving in the inn (if you want to call it that) that we were staying in. Perhaps I am being unfair, even to the undead… it isn’t a terrible place, for a human inn… but the undead surrounding us make me uncomfortable, not to mention their presence dredges up memories that are best kept buried…
As we ascended the stairs to our chambers, the air became decidedly colder. Frosted footprints could be seen heading down the hallway toward our chambers. Oh fuck no.
I could already feel the tingling sensation of magic gathering in my palms as we arrived at the open door. An unnaturally pale woman, scantily clad in a gown that revealed far too much, stood in the center of the room, talking to the rest of our party. As we entered, she turned and greeted us. She called me a “lady of Alcarin” and said that she “meant no offense.” Pretty words from a pretty corpse.
I could smell something in the air, at first I thought it was brought by the vampire, but then a very high Grimaldus pulled me into his lap as the conversation continued. I allowed him to do so, for I didn’t want to cause a scene, and I could feel the power emanating from this creature. I knew that if I were to go against her in combat, I might find myself outmatched. It didn’t mean I had to be unhappy about the situation though. Fortunately, the vampire left shortly thereafter, and Hasim regained his senses from whatever spell she had cast upon him. (That, he probably deserved, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself.)
Hasim passed me his pipe, saying that I looked like I could use it. Rowan whispered to me not to, but it smelled much like the pipeweed that Ravlor is so fond of, so I tried some… then I believe Meriwald did as well. I felt like my mind calmed and my consciousness expanded… and I began to wonder… why do Elves have pointed ears? Is it perhaps that we were once related to the birds? Maybe that’s why Meriwald and I get along so well… I wonder what it would be like to have wings and to fly… I shall have to ask him, but for now… he is still fast asleep…
Our Next Move
18th of Solae, 1485
Eighteenth of Solae, 1485
This is going to be a quick entry, for I’m planning on drawing my teleportation circle as soon as Secilia is ready. I wrote a quick note to Grimaldus to let him know my plans, as he is sleeping. I should probably just wake him, but I don’t want to have to explain to him why I am doing what I’m doing…
I am taking Secilia with me and returning to Alcarin… for multiple reasons. Firstly, I feel as though this is my opportunity to do something good in this world… perhaps rectify a bit of the bad that seems to have followed Secilia throughout most of her life… she needs to know of her Elven half, there is so much that she doesn’t know about her mother’s people – and that is unconscionable.
I have also been feeling for some time that it is past time for me to visit home. I didn’t go see my parents… I didn’t want to face them knowing I was going to go off against Mustafat again… and then, I was so wrapped up in my head afterwards, that I didn’t want to go home then either. But… that is unfair. For, I do not believe in my heart that either of them would think less of me… unless it is for my absence. It has altogether been too long since I’ve been home… something that I plan to rectify within the hour.
But, even with these reasons… if I am being perfectly honest with myself… there is one, foremost in my mind… it has been ever since I spoke with the axiomyte some time ago… I need to speak with Filandrel. I know it is probably a bad idea… but I cannot help it. Questions are burning in my mind and heart – I need to know if what the axiomyte said is true… if Filandrel, who professes to care about our people as a whole above anything else, was actually privy to the sacrifice of three thousand Elven lives… three thousand… I must speak with him. And I must speak with him alone.
But… I am not going to be completely reckless, without precautions – for I shall ask Secilia to lend me her medallion, and wait right alongside the Alcarin teleportation circle when I go to speak with Filandrel… that way, should everything go to hell, then I will use the medallion to teleport myself back to Secilia… and be in the position to immediately return to the party in Loec.
Loec… I cannot believe that I willingly came to this place… yet, here I am…
And… now that I think about it… I probably should write about how we came to be in this gods-forsaken place…
Yesterday, we wiped out a stronghold of the Serpent’s Tail that Hasim has been hunting. It was a pretty decent fight… one of them hit me with a poisoned arrow, which hurt… badly. I’ve never been poisoned like that before – and it isn’t an experience that I’m inclined to repeat. Fortunately though, Grimaldus removed the effects before too long, so I’m sure it could have been far worse.
We cleared the area with no casualties – injuries, but no casualties. Hasim, I believe, killed another one of the individuals responsible for the murder of his wife. He drove himself somewhat crazy with revenge, I think, as he kept stabbing his quarry for a good five minutes after he was dead… it bothered me for some reason, so I went and put my hand on Hasim’s shoulder, and talked to him until he stopped.
We stayed the night in that place after securing it. We had an unexpected visitor in the morning… some dragon-blooded man covered in blood who claimed to be sent to tell Grimaldus that he needs to give his mace to the black dragon who is causing all of the sandstorms. A stupid thing to ask Grimaldus if ever I heard one…
So… shortly thereafter, we decided that we needed to leave Wei Jang… Hasim snuck out and retrieved our earnings for clearing out the serpent den. Everyone was discussing (arguing) about how best to leave the city, until they finally realized that when I said I can take them anywhere that I have the coordinates for, I meant it…
Inira insisted on going to Loec. I know that Secilia wants to go there too, to visit the Mother of Churches or something like that… I can’t say that I’ve ever paid much attention to the church in my life. Loec was the last place that I wanted to go, but everyone agreed to accompany Inira, and I wasn’t about to abandon everyone to the realm of vampires and undead. So… I did what I never would have believed I would do… I willingly teleported into the heart of Loec…
It is a horrible, dreary place. I don’t even want to write the details of the land here… it is lacking in sunlight and joy and life. In fact, the only thing that it seems to have in abundance is magic… and even the magic in the air isn’t enough to cover the taint of undeath…
I hope that the forests and gardens of Alcarin will wipe the shadow of this place from my mind for at least a brief respite…
Letter to Grimaldus
18th of Solae, 1485
*Written in Yongrel*
Dear Grimaldus,
I trust that my knowledge of your language has extended enough to my writing to make this letter understandable… for, I wanted to write to you in your own tongue.
When you wake, you will find me gone. I have told
the others, but you were sleeping so peacefully that I was loathe to wake you. I hope your dreams are pleasant this night.
I have taken Secilia to Alcarin. She needs to know
about her mother's people, her Elven half, if she is ever going to reach her true potential and find peace with herself.
And, ultimately, isn't that what we all desire? To be at peace with ourselves? You seem to find it with your quests... Hasim will hopefully find it when his revenge is complete and he returns to claim his son... Inira and Dekar?... I fear that if she becomes a vampire, she will never know true peace... for how can anyone find peace when they can never feel the first rays of the morning sun kiss their face? Ah, but maybe that is just my personal bias speaking... after all, some humans seem to be content spending their entire lives indoors.
But me? I rarely find peace... our first night together in Wei Jang was the first time that I have felt true peace since I was roaming the forests of Alcarin some years ago... I haven't told you that before, but I hope that it sheds light on why I am taking Secilia home.
Home... such a strange word that encompasses so many things for each different person... I used to think it was Alcarin itself, but it is not. Home for me is my parents' house, more especially, my father's workshop. Yes, I have parents who are alive and well... Thavron and Arasil… I avoid bringing them up in general, because I don't know how to talk about my parents, when I'm apparently the only person in our party who had a happy childhood…
But, I digress… I am taking Secilia to the library at the university, and to my home. I hope to be able to show her a bit of what her mother may have been like…
And, I want to see if the princess is there, in which case, I may try to reclaim the shards of the staff of changes. But on a more personal level, many questions were raised when I spoke with the axiomyte in Wei Jang… questions that I need to know the answers to, lest they eat away at my mind. Questions about the history of my people, as well as Filandrel’s personal ties to that history. I know that you will likely disagree with my decision, and you are likely correct to do so, but this is something that I have to do. So I will see if my former master is keeping his regular office hours at the university, and go speak with him. I need these answers, Grimaldus. I hope you understand that…
I will be back tomorrow, the following day at the absolute latest.
With Love,
Inara
P.S. Meriwald insists that I write that you are currently snoring… loudly.
Fuck This City…
16th of Solae, 1485
Sixteenth of Solae, 1485
I believe that it is the wee hours of the morning as I write this… I didn’t actually write what happened yesterday as I normally do… I was too deeply entrenched in my various thoughts. Mostly that I’m wondering if I made a mistake by coming to this city… and especially by participating in that farce of a qualifier, for what is likely a farce of a tournament…
It was bad… to borrow the language patterns of my human companions, it was a ‘fucking shitshow.” First, we didn’t have a full team, so we had to pick from two rather poor candidates - one was a woman who only had rudimentary magic, the other was a child. Albeit a talented child, but a child nonetheless. Needless to say, we chose the adult… and the shit just got worse from there…
The important thing is that we made it through, we won our match. But, Grimaldus was right about this place… someone (likely our opponent) bribed the judges to change the rules in the middle of our match. It was an absolute clusterfuck. We still won, of course, but Grimaldus was right… Wei Jang is a shithole… with perfume covering up the stench of corruption. Don’t get me wrong, I know that officials accept bribes all of the time - but that doesn’t excuse changing the rules of a tournament in the middle of a match.
Fuck this place.
Now, Inira mentioned something about possibly becoming a vampire… I can’t deal with this shit right now…
I was wanting a vacation, that’s why I agreed to come here in the first place… well, that and my curiosity about Grimaldus, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself - something that this city seems incapable of being… but now I feel like I need to go home for a little while to get away from my vacation… I really should go see my parents… I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately, maybe it’s all of the shit that’s been happening recently… either way… I’m ready to leave this fucking city…
Library
14th of Solae, 1485
Fourteenth day of Solae, 1485
Somehow I managed to get some decent rest last night… probably because of Grimaldus if I’m being perfectly honest with myself. All too often, my memories encroach on nights when I’m alone - which has been most of the time. It’s interesting how another person’s presence can keep nightmares at bay, for that is inevitably the path that my memories will take me…
I cannot get the axiomyte’s revelations out of my mind, even now. I simply cannot imagine Filandrel doing such a thing… I know he lied to me, and he is very likely the Pale Master that everyone talks about… but this? Even if everything he ever told me is a lie, I still cannot see him sacrificing three thousand of our people… I just can’t…
Grimaldus left in the morning with Inira. I think he is off to track down some bandits or something. Dekar is still not speaking to me. I think I must have offended him more than I thought last night…
Secilia was going to one of the libraries, apparently it is one called the Library of the Negated Word. When we arrived, it became obvious that the name is a play on words - the entire facility is under the effect of a silencing spell. Inira and Secilia went off perusing the shelves for their forbidden knowledge, and Meriwald flew off with Rowan. I hoped they wouldn’t get into too much trouble, but I was eager for the possibility of finding new conjuration spells, so I made my way to the shelves containing books on conjuration.
As I poured over the various books, I found myself thinking of Egig Ero Fa, and the allowance that I had when I was in Alcarin to cover the costs of materials for spell inscriptions… not that I want to go back to that time, necessarily, but now that I am here, I find myself wishing for the conveniences of not even considering the cost of adding spells into my book. Now I have to be far more selective than I was back then, and it is, frankly, a bit irritating in a way.
But, no matter, I managed to find some promising spells that I cannot wait to test out soon.
After rounding up Meriwald and Rowan, who had taken it upon themselves to frolic through the decorative fountains of the library, I left. I had gotten what I came for, and if I stayed, I would inevitably be too tempted by the rest of the spell knowledge the library holds… and my funds cannot support that at this point.
Later on, when we had all returned to the House of Earthly Delights, Dekar informed everyone that Hogar wishes to speak with us and has requested a meeting, immediately. Why didn’t he mention this sooner? I have no desire to go speak with the pompous gnome, but he must have a reason, and we should probably at least hear him out.
Tomorrow is the reenactment portion of the Circle of Power…
History and Memories
13th of Solae, 1485
Thirteenth day of Solae, 1485
I went to see the axiomyte last night, after everyone else had retired for the evening. I hoped that he would receive me, and would be able to answer some of the questions that have been burning in the back of my mind ever since my last conversation with Filandrel.
He seemed unsurprised to see me, and he stopped his work, wiping his hands as he asked why I had come. I blurted out the questions that I want to know… questions about the First World, about the Intoners and the Queen of Air and Darkness. I asked him if Filandrel told me the truth when he said that magic used to permeate the very air to the point where one could walk its currents up to floating cities.
The axiomyte then led me to his personal library, and pulled a scroll out, offering to tell me a bit of our history. The scroll that he opened was one that I’ve seen many times before… I found my mind drawn back to memories of the time right before I first saw that scroll… I was surprised, because I haven’t thought about the time before Filandrel brought me to Egig Ero Fa in quite some time.
I had just reached my fourteenth year when I met Filandrel for the first time.... I remember sitting in my father's workshop, watching him work as I so often did whenever I had the chance. He had promised that if I watched him attentively until I turned fifteen, he would teach me to use his tools. One more year, not long at all, and it would be my hands that carved and fashioned the furniture that would grace the halls of Alcarin’s nobility. Just one more year, and my father would take me as an apprentice.
“Thavron?” The door opened and my mother came in, her beautiful face alight with excitement. “Filandrel is here and wishes to speak with you.”
That was a name that I didn’t recognize. When my father dusted himself off and left, brushing a kiss on my mother’s cheek as he passed, I moved to follow him. My mother stopped me, telling me to give them a minute to speak, as she brushed wood shavings out of my hair.
Finally, my mother let me go, and we walked back to the house together. I could hear voices inside, but aside from recognizing my father’s timbre, and another unknown to me, I couldn’t hear what was being said. I got the feeling that they were talking about me, because as soon as I walked in, the newcomer stopped talking. That was the first time I ever met Filandrel…
He was an older elf, I wasn’t sure how old, but he looked to be considerably older than my father… he wore his dark brown hair braided away from his face, his hair was peppered with silver streaks, which I took to be a testament to his great age. He rose and bowed slightly when my mother entered, greeting her respectfully. He must be one of my father’s friends from the capitol, I figured. I didn’t know what he could want with me, but I soon found out… I found myself staring into deep green eyes as he introduced himself with a friendly smile. Filandrel, Magister of Conjuration at Egig Ero Fa.
I had heard of the academy, naturally. But I still didn’t quite understand why he was sitting at our kitchen table, wanting to speak with me. None of my father’s clients (for that’s what he must be) had ever taken an interest in me before… I took a closer look at Filandrel, his deep blue robe was decorated with silver glyphs and runes… elegant in its simplicity – that, and his lack of perfume, already set him apart from any of the other Alcarin nobility that found their way to my parents’ door. I immediately liked him. He was interesting, different. Unlike anyone I’d ever met before. And, surprisingly enough, he was there for me…
Filandrel explained that he was looking for a student, and based on what he had observed of me, he thought I was an ideal candidate for the opportunity. The proposition that he offered us was that he would take me to Egig Ero Fa. There, I would study to become a wizard. And, if I showed continued aptitude for conjuration magic that he was confident I had, I would become his apprentice.
My heart soared at the thought! Me, a wizard! Studying magic at the prestigious Egig Ero Fa! The look on my parents’ faces was one that made me pause. My mother looked almost wistfully hopeful, but my father looked devastated. “No.” I rarely ever heard that tone coming from my father. He was serious.
Filandrel smiled and nodded, understandingly. He thanked us (myself included) for our time, and said told my parents that he would leave them to discuss it and come to a decision. He left then, promising to return in one week’s time. As soon as Filandrel was out of the house, he said an incantation and disappeared. It was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen in my life. Where did he go? Back to Egig Ero Fa, I assumed. Or maybe off on some grand adventure… my imagination ran wild with the possibilities as my parents began to argue.
I don’t remember ever hearing my mother and father disagree on anything as much as they disagreed on Filandrel’s offer. Late that night, when I was practicing my meditation, I could hear them talking…
My father’s voice carried an edge to it. “She is fine where she is at. Inara’s place is here, with us. Not off chasing magic up in that school and losing sight of who she is.”
“Thavron…” my mother’s voice was barely audible. I recognized her tone, she used it whenever she was trying to convince my father of something and he was being stubborn. “Think of the opportunities this could offer her… imagine it… she would receive the best education. Be apprentice to the Magister of Conjuration himself… would you really deny Inara that opportunity? One that you never had? You have the shop and you have your work, but this is an opportunity for our daughter to have more. To raise her position in the world. To be able to make the choices for herself that we were never offered…”
“Arasil… he will take her away from us… do you really want to lose our daughter so soon?” His voice was breaking. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I covered my ears with my pillow and gave up on my mediation for that night, falling instead into the sleep of my childhood.
Filandrel arrived exactly one week later, as promised. My father wanted to turn him down immediately, but, probably through a combination of my mother’s influence, respect for Filandrel, and his love for me, he let Filandrel explain to me exactly what he was offering. He told me that what he was offering was the opportunity to choose what I want in life… to be free to make my own decisions about the course of my life based on what I wanted, rather than just follow the path that my family’s trade had laid out for me. “If you decide that you want to take advantage of this opportunity,” he said, “you will be able to learn things and do things that are likely only in your imagination now…”
I don’t really know exactly what it was that Filandrel said that made me want to go, but again, Filandrel looked to my parents and told them he would be back again in another week to speak with us again.
My parents were quiet that night… I almost felt like they were both avoiding any conversation for their own, individual reasons. My mind was too full of what Filandrel had been saying to pay the uncommon silence much mind. I hardly dared to hope that what he spoke of could be true.
Over the next week, I know my parents talked about it privately, and on the sixth day, they both sat down with me and asked what I wanted. I could barely look at my father when I admitted that I wanted to go with Filandrel, afraid to see the hurt on his face. But, I could see his pride, even through the sheen of tears in his eyes. My mother was openly crying as she pulled me into her embrace. She whispered that she was proud of me and always will be.
The following day, Filandrel arrived and he and my parents ironed out the details of my apprenticeship…
The axiomyte’s words pulled me out of my memory. I haven’t thought about that part of my life for years… Careful to avoid getting any dirt on the scroll, he offered me a history lesson… one uncensored by the politics of Egig Ero Fa.
He confirmed what Filandrel had told me about the abundance of magic in the First World… magic so readily available that you could walk up the magical currents in the air to floating cities made of glass… he told me of the Intoners trying to bring order to the chaos with their song. The Queen of Air and Darkness listening too much to an entity that he said is called either the Flower or the Great Tree… he said no matter which name you refer to it by, it is the same… a dark entity of some type that influenced the Elves so long ago.
Titania sacrificed herself to save our people from the Queen of Air and Darkness, and eventually, her soul manifested in the form of Baba Yaga. He was unclear as to how this happened, as he said that he does not know.
The axiomyte then told me of the Drow Schism. How they were so desperate to bring back the First World that they broke the most sacred laws of our people – consuming the flesh of fae, among other taboos. He asked if I’ve ever met a drow, and so I told him of the boatman below Crastvongrad that I met a few months ago.
We talked for some time, about many things. He apparently knew Filandrel when they were young, and they both escaped from the First World together. He said that when our people first arrived, we were taken in by men, and in exchange, taught them magic. Some think it was a good idea, but he said that others, like Filandrel, view it as a mistake because men are too greedy, and lack the foresight to use magic properly and responsibly.
I was greatly enjoying the conversation, well, as much as one can enjoy a conversation when they learn things that they almost wish they didn’t, due to their horrible nature…until Dekar arrived. Apparently, Dekar wants the axiomyte to fashion him an artifact that is powerful enough to kill gods. When the axiomyte warned him of the dangers of such an artifact falling into the wrong hands, Dekar largely seemed unconcerned by it.
Oh, fuck no. I asked the axiomyte then, how the ramifications of such an artifact would compare to that of Lara Durdain’s Staff of Changes, When he said that it would be similar in power and dangers, I turned to Dekar and adamantly told him “no.”
I understand that it is Dekar’s decision to make, as he is the one in possession of the components, but at the same time, I don’t think he is fully capable of truly comprehending the ramifications of this… if he was, I don’t think he would be so quick to seek it out. At least, I would hope not… with how eager he is to get his hands on this artifact…
I asked him what happens when he eventually dies. He insisted that he doesn’t plan to. But he is a man… he will die… whether it be tomorrow or in fifty years… everyone dies. What happens when Dekar dies and the artifact is just out there for someone else to pick up? Something horrible, that’s what…
Dekar left shortly after the axiomyte told him that if he provided the components, he would forge the artifact. I understand that the axiomyte likely has an insatiable drive to create magical items and artifacts, but seriously? I was hoping for a bit more discernment or restraint on his part… I like Dekar a lot, and I have a good deal of respect for him as a person, but I fear the ramifications of such a powerful artifact weapon in his hands. He is too brash.
After Dekar’s departure, I asked the axiomyte how well he actually knew Filandrel. He said that they fled the First World together when they were young. Last he heard, Filandrel was somewhere in Latria, but he correctly assumed that he was back in Alcarin now. The axiomyte mentioned that he and Filandrel had created the Well of Sorrows that lies north of Runestone… and that they sacrificed three thousand Elves in order to save the rest, creating the well to anchor this world away from the first. “The last thing they saw was the mountains and the sky…” he told me. “It was the least that we could do…”
I was speechless… how does one reply to that revelation? The axiomyte bid me farewell after that, saying that even he needs to rest… I imagine that after that, he probably didn’t want to speak to me more on this night… I cannot imagine… I am still haunted by the fifty-seven elven lives that are on my conscience from the battle against Mustafat… but three thousand?…
I left then, easily catching up with Dekar, which leads me to think that he might have been waiting for me to come talk to him as we walked… I don’t know. But anyways, I tried to dissuade him from his current path, as it will most likely lead to consequences that none of us are prepared to handle… I reminded him of the long-term consequences of Lara Durdain’s curse, with Mustafat and the beasts. But he just scorned my concern, telling me not to lecture him on the history of the elves.
I don’t remember exactly what I said in my anger, but it must have been rude or hurtful, because Meriwald opened his beak to say something to me and I turned my anger on him. I’m not proud of it, but I was so angry. I demanded to know what his problem is, because Meriwald has been nothing but an ass to Grimaldus ever since we reached the east, and even worse since we have been in Wei Jang.
I felt a sting of guilt when Meriwald said he is afraid that I’m feeling too much for Grimaldus. He said that it grosses him out… until I retorted that he never had a problem with Ravlor… That is when I think that Meriwald actually told me the truth.
He said that Grimaldus is a man and is going to die, and if I care too much about him, then I will hurt too much. He doesn’t want me to get hurt, and with a pang of guilt, I realized that he is also trying to protect himself… because of our bond, he feels everything that I do… he is trying to keep us both from pain. And while I appreciate the sentiment, perhaps I’m okay with the potential for pain… sometimes it is better to have experienced something, or someone, even if it will hurt later; than to be too afraid to care at all… which is basically what Ravlor told me when we talked last… that I should see what happens with Grimaldus, because if I don’t, then I will likely regret not knowing.
I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I asked Meriwald if he would please go talk some sense into Dekar… likely a mistake, but I really didn’t care at that point… I wanted to be by myself for a while…
Unfortunately, when I got back to the suite I’ve been sharing with Grimaldus, I found it to be full of people. Everyone was there… I walked in just in time to see Grimaldus cut his hand and drip the blood into a bowl over a fire. The room darkened and a face was formed in the flames… I recognized from the context and the expressions of everyone around me what he had done… he was communicating with Shard, the Blood Lord. Fuck. I don’t think I’m going to be able to get a good meditation tonight… not in the very chamber that housed the vampire’s essence, if even through the flames and only for a minute… Indeed, Inira seemed to be the only person happy about it, she had an awed expression on her face when Grimaldus grabbed her hand and bade her to speak into the flames. I shouldn’t be surprised, after all, for she had the rare opportunity to speak directly with her god.
The others though, they seemed either indifferent or almost as uncomfortable with the situation as I was. There is at least some comfort there…
As I sit here writing this, I find that my meditation eludes me… it is not just the unease at Grimaldus’ communication with the Blood Lord, either. I haven’t thought about the day that I first left my parents house with Filandrel in so long… I wonder how they are doing, I probably should have gone to visit them when I was in Alcarin before going to Runestone, but I don’t know what stopped me.
Well, yes, I do, if I am willing to admit it to myself… I didn’t want to see the pain in their eyes when I told them that I was going off to a likely battle again. I think my mother’s heart broke when I returned home after the war, so changed. My father retreated into his workshop and didn’t speak to anyone for a day and a night.
I spent the day sitting on the same stool I had as a child and watched him work… the silence was healing in a way, for me. I don’t think he felt the same though, because after that first day, he began talking, trying to get me to talk about what had transpired. It was only a few days later when I was wandering through his workshop in a daze that I found it… a wooden casket hidden away in the back corner, elaborately carved with owls bearing an uncanny resemblance to Meriwald. Twisting wooden vines and leaves covered the entirety of its surface. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I realized what this was… my coffin.
“We heard what happened to the students at the Twin Rivers…” my father’s low voice said behind me. “I was not going to let my daughter have anything but a final resting place made by my hands…”
When I turned around, I could see the devastation on his face… they had thought me dead…
I need to stop now, or my past will keep me up all night and I won’t be able to meditate at all this night…
The Axiomyte
12th of Solae, 1485
Twelfth day of Solae, 1485
Last night was the most restful night I have had in years… since the forests of Alcarin, if I am being completely honest. I am not used to partaking in the sleep of humans, but it can be nice… the slow awakening to the morning light, wrapped in strong arms… well, it would have been nicer, had Meriwald not decided to ruin it by screaming in Grimaldus’ ear.
I don’t know what has gotten into him… after all, Meriwald is the one who encouraged me to come east in the first place. Apparently now though, there is some tension between him and Grimaldus… which doesn’t make sense, considering that Meriwald teasingly told me back in Crassard, and again in Runestone, that he knew what was going to happen; even when I was merely considering the possibility. Is it some weird, misplaced jealousy? Does he miss being the only one (aside from Ravlor and Filandrel) who I would confide in? I don’t understand it… I will have to speak with him later, when I get the chance… I cannot have him growing to resent me, and I don’t want to see him resent Grimaldus… or any of the others, for that matter. Although, it seems to be strictly between him and Grimaldus. I don’t know. I hope it blows over. Meriwald can be such a moody little shit sometimes, but I do love him dearly.
Whatever the case may be, I was struck by the sheer beauty of the vista that greeted me out the window. The morning sunlight sparkled off the sea, and the city stretched out to meet it. The only thing marring the entire picture was the sandstorm off in the distance, and the floating castle… wait… yes, I suppose I should mention, the foppish gnome, Hogar, is here, along with his floating castle. Just when I was starting to relax, to feel a bit of a reprieve from the stressors that have plagued my life for the past year… Hogar. Fuck.
I dressed, relieved to find that none of my things had been ruined by the unexpected tumble into the bath last night. Grimaldus donned a long tunic, some eastern design that I find rather pleasing. For humans, these easterners certainly know how to clothe a man aesthetically. As we prepared to depart the room, Grimaldus warned me that this city is far bigger than Runestone, and that there will be many more eyes watching our every move here. I thought he was warning me, which I suppose he was, but then he said. “What I want to know is why, when I have passed by thousands of eyes, I have only ever been lost in yours.” Wow.
We joined the others in the main room of Hasim’s suite. Inira was cooking. I don’t know why she didn’t just have one of the servants bring food… but then again… I was completely unaware of the fact that she can apparently cook. One would have thought that she would have cooked at some point along our travels together, but no… for some reason she decided to wait until now, when we are in an establishment that has people employed for their cooking skills. I don’t understand, but then again, I didn’t put much thought into it. Hasim handed Grimaldus a cup of coffee - that dark, sludgy liquid. I asked for a cup, I admit that I was rather curious, and everyone else seemed to enjoy it well enough.
I took a sip. It has a bitter, earthy flavor, not unpleasant, but wholly not something that I am likely to seek out in the future. Grimaldus must have noticed my expression, for he handed me a date and said that the bitterness of the coffee should be accompanied by something sweet. As I ate the fruit, I noticed the others looking at us strangely. Inira’s eyes held a gleam of something… triumph? Curiosity? Satisfaction? I don’t know. Nor do I particularly care at the moment. Secilia was the only person who seemed nonchalant… she was reading a book and using a mage hand spell to bring her food to her mouth, so as not to have to take her hands from her book. I must say… that is the most Elvish thing I have seen her do to date… and I felt a pang in my chest, a slight homesickness that I quickly suppressed.
We ate breakfast, Inira’s eggs were surprisingly not bad… Grimaldus seemed rather annoyed that she hasn’t offered to cook for us before this, but I think he just complains about his dried meat rations. If he would have tried some of the ones I offered, he might feel differently about trail rations… but then again, I too am a little taken aback by Inira keeping this skill a secret all this time. But, there are far more important things to worry about.
Dekar asked Grimaldus to cut his arm off and then magically restore it. What the fuck?! I don’t know what his problem is. I know that his crippled arm has been causing him issues and he doesn’t feel as though he is up to his full potential, but cutting it off? And then preserving it? What the fuck? Dekar says that he is going to cast Gentle Repose on his arm, until he can take it to the axiomyte, as he wants to use his own flesh and bone to create magical artifacts, having the blood of a dragon and all… I don’t think he understands that magic doesn’t work like that. But, there wasn’t anything I was able to do to dissuade any of the men (for Hasim and Grimaldus both considered it somewhat of a lark).
Hasim promptly hacked Dekar’s arm off with the crystal glaive, and Grimaldus cauterized the wound with his mace that he’d been sitting in the fire. A short while later, Dekar’s arm regrew, and he opened his eye. He’s been blind in the one eye for so long, and apparently Grimaldus’ spell extended the regenerative properties to his eye. Dekar flexed his arm, and as much as I give them a hard time for their rash action… I have to admit, he is much better off like this. It makes me almost wish that I’d been there with Ravlor when his eyes were first restored to him… to see the look upon his face when he could see and move about without pain again…
After Dekar’s restoration, we headed across the city to meet with the axiomyte. His tower was actually in the ocean, with no bridge connecting to the shore. The tower was a sheer face, much like the one that Vlatrossi Melkinov uses, although this one was more aesthetic. About a hundred feet up, a small platform extended out, the single protrusion marring the smooth exterior. The subtlety of what the axiomyte had done was not lost on me… he arranged his tower so as to be unapproachable to almost anyone without the use of magic. Clever.
Dimension door makes such situations simply solved… except for Dekar. I don’t know why, but he decided to climb the smooth surface rather than be transported up by Inira. Once on the platform, we were met by a handleless door, and an inscription that read “speak knock to enter”. So… I spoke the words of a knock spell, and the door swung open.
A wisp met us and introduced himself as Peck. He conversed with the party, I honestly wasn’t paying that much attention to exactly what was said… Hasim wanted to sell some magical items, and a couple of the others wanted to buy magical items. Me, personally? I wanted to meet the axiomyte for my own reasons… I greatly desired to speak with him, and hoped that he would be able to tell me more of the history of our people, history that I hoped wouldn’t be colored by Filandrel’s personal agenda. If what they say is true, one such as this axiomyte has removed themselves from Elven society and no longer cares for the particulars of politics and such. If what they say is true, all he cares about is the driving force of his craft… I hope that is true, but I also hope that it isn’t so much so the case that he won’t speak to me and answer my questions…
“Peck” led us down the spiraling tower into its depths. I could hear the sound of hammering getting louder with each step we took. Numerous automatons moved around, organizing the myriad of magical artifacts and cleaning everything in sight. A couple of the others inquired about some of the magical artifacts, and Peck informed us that the master prefers to showcase his artifacts personally. Yes. I would finally get to meet this ancient elf.
After a time, wisps swirled in our mists, materializing into an elf. I don’t know what I was expecting, exactly… maybe someone akin to Filandrel? But definitely not who appeared before us. This is obviously an elf who is accustomed to working over a forge. . Glowing tattoos ring his muscled arms, and he wears his black, shoulder length hair tied back away from his face. Sweat was beading his brow as he cleaned soot off his hands. “I have never met you before. Names?” He said by way of greeting. Sweat was beading his brow as he cleaned soot off his hands. “I have never met you before. Names?” He said by way of greeting.
Everyone had their own questions for him… he explained the properties of his different magical artifacts for sale. Then Dekar asked him about using his arm to create a magical weapon. The axiomyte gave a far better explanation as to why that will not work than I can… he explained that when the body parts of dragons are used, they take a bit of the creature’s soul with them. Because Dekar had his arm restored, his severed arm is merely that, a severed arm. No magical properties or components to it, any more than the severed arm of a person without dragon blood…
He looked at several of the magical artifacts that we carried with us. He explained to Inira that her clockwork heart (why does she have a clockwork heart?) will allow her to commune with the pale shades of Loec. I hope this doesn’t mean that she will want us to go to Loec… I, for one, am not going to take anyone to Loec. I’m not going to set foot in that cursed land unless there is no choice and it is the last place on earth…
Hasim’s questions prompted him to go on about how our people’s ostracization of the drow led to the creation of the drow… he said that there could have been a compromise, and that it could have all been prevented. I asked what he meant and he said that he lived through the schism of the drow. It was a tragedy. When I was surprised, he said that he trusts I am a student of Egig Ero Fa, and they would say that he speaks madness.
Then he started talking about how it was odd that I wasn’t at the academy, and if I was in need of funding, I would have gone there… he wanted to know what I am studying that I wouldn’t be seeking their support. He said that I am in the wrong place for a vacation, when Dekar told him such.
I asked him then if he has a solution to the Queen of Air and Darkness. He didn’t really have an answer, beyond telling me that there is a war in the First World, with the riders of Baba Yaga trying to vie for revenge for the queen. He didn’t really have an answer, but I felt as though there was so much more he knew… I desperately wanted to ask him some more questions, but I wasn’t inclined to do so with the others there… I decided that I will return alone and speak with him later…
Rowan asked him to look at the gem that she carries around her neck. Apparently, it holds the soul of her friend, and she is trying to figure out a way to be able to reincarnate him into a new body. I know it is some esoteric druid magic, but still… the notion unsettles me. Perhaps it is because it cannot be understood fully by those who are not members of a circle.
We stayed in the tower for some time, as he altered the magic on Rowan’s stone enough for her to be able to release the spirit of her friend for the ritual. The others had some more magical artifact questions for him. I will return and speak with him later…
Back in the city proper, our little group split up to go our separate ways. Inira, Secilia and myself headed towards a place called the Circle of Power… apparently it is a magical tournament series that gains much prestige and prizes to the winner. When we approached the area, we discovered that in two days time, there will be a team event… a reenactment of the Battle of the Lion and the Eagle. It is the qualifier for the main Circle of Power event. The man we spoke with explained that it was not solely a test of magical skill, but also a show. Whoever was the crowd favorite had a far better chance of winning that someone who wasn’t charismatic. Apparently, a few tournaments ago, the winner was a woman who competed in the whole tournament barechested.
I hope that my horror wasn’t written all over my face. What kind of a tournament is this? I was ready to turn around and walk away, but then I saw a banner with a picture of the winnings. A pile of gold and gems seemed to attract the eyes of Inira and Secilia… but my gaze was drawn to a very familiar set of robes hanging above the gold… I know those robes, I spent most of my younger years looking at them and they still provoke a sense of calm familiarity, if not accompanied by a sharp pang of hurt… they are an exact match of Filandrel’s robes… Robes of the Archmagi. That is a prize worth competing for…
We talked a bit on the way back, Inira and Secilia both seem very confident about their chances in the tournament… I find that I am not feeling the same, at least in terms of the Circle of Power… I told them that I would not duel either of them to the death, if that ends up being a requirement, I will refuse and bow out. If I even decide to compete… honestly, if it is a contest of who is the crowd favorite, they both have a better chance at it than I… if it were strictly skill with magic, I am confident that I could take most competitors, my friends included. But with the showmanship aspect?
My magic is not flashy. I am not going to play to a crowd, not even for robes that will make my inevitable confrontation with Filandrel considerably less treacherous… but then again, what am I even thinking? I will probably not see him again for at least a century, and even then, maybe he will have calmed down a bit… come to see the error of his plans? No, that is the wishful thinking of a girl who still doesn’t want to admit that her master, mentor and friend would ever be anything less than what I spent so much of my life viewing him as… I need to stop, lest I go down this rabbithole again, and right now… I am supposed to be on a sabbatical vacation… I came out here to escape Alcarin politics for a time, and here I am, still dwelling on them.
Grimaldus is asleep… that man takes more naps than a babe when he gets the chance. The others just returned… I’m going to finish researching this Battle of the Lion and Eagle, and then I’m going to go see the axiomyte again. Alone.
I have questions that need answering, and I feel like he is going to be the best source for honest answers…
The City of Wei Jang
11th of Solae, 1485
Eleventh day of Solae, 1485
I find myself writing this in one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen, outside of Alcarin. We are in the city of Wei Jang, “the jewel of the east” as I’ve heard some call it. It is breathtakingly beautiful, although I entirely agree with Grimaldus that it is a pretty wrapping over what must be an incredibly depraved core. But the wrapping is nothing if not beautiful…
But, before I go into a description of what I have seen and experienced in this place thus far, I must record the events that led us to this place, when a short while ago, we were likely a thousand miles away in the shithole that is Alfarid, or rather, was Alfarid…
After Secilia’s guardian killed the sorcerer on his flying disc, we all made our way to the tower. Dekar pulled something from the body, but I neither knew nor cared what it was… I was more interested in his items that he carried with him. Unfortunately, I didn’t see a spell book anywhere, I wonder if he had his spells all in his memory? But, I did see his staff and the black disc that he rode through the air… the staff’s head was fashioned into a serpent, and I honestly was loathe to even touch it. I was pretty sure that Inira or Secilia would be more interested, and honestly… I have had enough of staffs to last me a century, at least…
So, I placed the flying disc in my bag of holding and followed the others up to the tower. Grimaldus and Dekar led the way, as usual. Hasim disappeared somewhere along the wall, I think he climbed the damn thing.
A large contingent of priests met us outside the tower gate. But, at the sight of our party approaching (I think it was likely in large part to the swirling spiritual guardians surrounding Grimaldus), many of them turned and fled. A few remained though, some warriors, some with spears and a few with nets. There was one warrior who was equal in size to Dekar, which was slightly disconcerting, I must admit. But, they were not my focus. My attention was solely focused on the back, standing almost up against the tower itself, was a group of spellcasters. One was a blind wizard, who obviously studied the school of divination. He was accompanied by five identical albino humans. I don’t know if they were actual people, or some type of weird construct, but they served as his eyes, and they were competent enough spellcasters in their own right. There was another, who held a staff of snakes, but I was less concerned about him than the diviner.
Divination magic is tricky… it is difficult to wield, but when it is used effectively in combat, it is some of the scariest arcane to face. It can shape the tide of battle, and impede or enhance the skill and luck of the combatants. The diviner needed to die, and quickly. Between Inira, Secilia and myself, we managed to counter most of his spells, and Yahiro rushed over to him and was able to do a great deal of damage - but then, he was almost immediately banished to somewhere else. It wasn’t a banish spell, so I’m not entirely sure what he did, but we were able to do enough damage to the diviner that he lost his concentration and Yahiro reappeared. I think someone wasn’t used to having to maintain concentration in battle… and it ultimately cost him his life.
The warlock held the cobra aloft in the air and Grimaldus and Inira fell unconscious. Grimaldus crumpled right in front of the warriors that he was fighting. One of them threw a net over him and proceeded to spear him repeatedly. I felt my heart in my throat as I saw the growing pool of blood spreading from him… No! I was not going to lose another friend. I didn’t stop to think too hard about why it being Grimaldus caused such a visceral reaction in my gut, I just reacted.
I ran over to him, and ducked under the spears poised to stab again. I laid my hand on his shoulder and teleported both of us back to where I had been standing, far enough away from the enemies that I hoped Grimaldus would be safe. He was barely holding on to consciousness. As soon as I got him out of the imminent danger, I turned to Secilia. “Heal him!” I don’t know if I demanded or pleaded… but fortunately, she and her celestial guardian both healed Grimaldus enough that he seemed like he would make it.
I don’t ever want to feel that again… the heart stopping, consuming panic that I wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough. Maybe it is because I’ve never seen him take any serious injuries, or, it is because Ravlor was right… regardless, whichever it is… it was horrible, and I mustn’t think on it too much, lest my mind spiral away from me again, as it did after the war…
Rowan was thrown out of her animal form, and promptly netted and speared like Grimaldus had been. She is so small though, and her cries sounded like those of a child. It was horrible. So, I cast a fireball, detonating it in the air, so it caught all of the enemies, but the flames washed over Rowan, missing her by a mere couple of feet. That provided enough of a distraction, and caused enough havoc among the enemies, that Rowan was able to escape.
Grimaldus, after healing himself further, was angry. He charged back into the fight and loosed the curse in his mace as he swung. I have to admit, I was surprised. Impressed. But surprised. He has carried that same curse in his mace since we were in Latria… it was before we faced Mustafat and the bendeth… back when he asked what kind of spells I could cast, and I let him look through my spell book, telling him to pick one. He ultimately didn’t, I think he was looking for something more along the lines of what Inira casts than myself… but that was when I first realized that there was something different about him. I didn’t think twice about handing him my spellbook… which is something that I’ve only ever done a few times in my life… not counting Grimaldus, the only people whom I’ve ever allowed complete access to my spell book without me retaining physical possession of it at all times, are Filandrel and Ravlor. It is odd… if I were to actually focus on it, think about it, but I am choosing not to. There are more important and, frankly, more interesting things to think about at the moment…
When we were finishing up the enemies, Meriwald flew off my shoulder and cast rope trick. He hid himself in the little pocket dimension and started ranting about how we needed to get out of there, and that the hydra was something that he didn’t think we should fight. I listened to him, Meriwald has rarely steered me wrong in the past… and I’ve never seen him be wrong about a fight when he is that insistent. So, I asked him to go tell the others, but to please be safe about it, I don’t want to lose him.
A serpentine body crashed onto the ground with a sickening splat. Hasim appeared, holding a glaive made of some sort of crystalline material and ancient, twisted wood. He handed it to me and asked if I could identify what it is… I didn’t have time for it then, but it felt ancient and powerful in a similar way to the fragments of Lara Durdain’s staff… not made by Elven hands, but it shared the same feeling… I told him that I would inspect it later, and I will.
Hasim also told me of the ritual he interrupted… he described the magic circle for me, and it was either a teleportation circle or a portal… I wasn’t sure which, as he wasn’t especially confident in his memory of the exact runes and positioning. He said that he interrupted a ritual, and I asked him to take me to the circle, so I could see if it was something that I would need to dispel.
The door into the tower was heavily barred, but barred doors pose no problem when you have a druid with you who can transform into a giant mammoth… I didn’t even have to expend any magic to open it. Rowan stayed in the entrance, while Hasim and I made our way cautiously into the tower. We both looked around, knowing that at least one priest had to be in the vicinity… I found him hiding in an alcove. Hasim pulled him out and he begged us to kill him. We didn’t, and managed to get enough information out of him to determine that the magic circle on the roof was, indeed, a teleportation circle attuned to the city of Wei Jang.
The priest informed us that we were too late, his eyes alight with manic fervor as he explained that other rituals were being conducted at towers across the sands, and the awakening had already begun. I think he was spitting a bunch of nonsense, but I shoved a bit of fabric from the curtain in his mouth and tied his hands together anyways. I don’t want him to be able to cast any spells when we bring him with us.
People started pouring into the tower. Secilia appeared next to me, I need to return this talisman to her… it is making me slightly uncomfortable. Yes, it is useful, but there is always a trade off with artifacts… and I do not think I will want to have any part of the price of this… especially if it has anything to do with the black dog creature that invaded Dekar’s dream.
My friends came barreling in, Grimaldus carrying several small children slung over his shoulders. I told them to make sure that all of the villagers made their way to the top of the tower, and then ran up the stairs with Hasim to open the circle.
After we managed to get all of the villagers through the portal, I saw the figure of a man approaching up the stairs. It was mutated, contorted… it had the head of the same black dog that invaded Dekar’s dream and then dispelled my casting… Grimaldus turned to it and tried to banish it back to whatever realm it crawled out of. We all made it into the circle.
We arrived in a plaza of golden pillars. Gold and silver covered the entire area, and figures were patrolling, moving with an unnatural stiffness to their limbs. Their faces were hidden behind silver masks, hiding their dead, mummified faces.
The city stretched out in great ziggurats, the sun was glinting off the gold and silver encrusting the architecture, and reflecting off the deep blue waters of the ocean in the distance. Arcane glyphs cover the entire plaza we stood in, the aura of magic wrapped around us at a level I haven’t felt since I was last home in Alcarin.
I looked at the rest of the party, my gaze focusing on Grimaldus. He seemed unperturbed by the undead surrounding us. I tried to push them out of my mind, but couldn’t help the bile that rose in my throat at yet another time stepping through a portal to be surrounded by undead… I don’t think anyone else noticed, I hope not… there are some things that I would prefer to not have to explain… Grimaldus must have noticed though, because he quietly said that these were the guards - as if I wasn’t able to figure it out on my own… but at least he seemed to want to ease my discomfort, which is appreciated nonetheless.
My gaze was drawn to the far end of the plaza… a gigantic feline figure reclined, draped in cloth, with the head of a woman. I had read about sphinxes before, but I had never spoken to one, or even seen one in person before. Five guards stood at her feet, clad in red and gold.
The sphinx spoke then, its feminine voice booming unsettlingly across the plaza. She wanted to know who led the refugees that had just arrived ahead of us. She demanded an answer and questioned our bravery - but I don’t think she was paying attention to the fact that she was speaking Yongrel to a party largely comprised of foreigners. (I still haven’t told anyone that I speak and understand Yongrel… I think that it will suit me better in the long run if most people here don’t know… and it would seem that Grimaldus agrees with me, because he has refrained from speaking to me in his native language since Hasim joined us.)
Grimaldus then called out, his voice also booming through the effect of his thaumaturgy. They talked for a time, before she seemed to realize her mistake, and with an apology, she began speaking in broken low Imperial.
She said that we have come upon the temple quarter of the city, and offered for us to learn the coordinates of the teleportation circle. I immediately recorded this in my spellbook, I don’t want to lose the possibility of a safe location to teleport to… especially when I do not think the rest of the party (or the Princess for that matter) would appreciate being teleported to Alcarin in case of an emergency.
Grimaldus asked where to find Vignir… apparently Vignir, the lich from the Runestone coronation ball, resides here! Oh, fuck no. I have no desire to have anything to do with a fucking lich. I am too surrounded by undead as it is… I desperately do not want to add a lich into the mix.
After that, I ceased to pay as much attention to the conversation… The sphinx said that the gates of the city are open to us, and that we will find some rest, or perhaps knowledge, here.
My attention was drawn back to the conversation when she mentioned that there is an axiomite living by the coast. That peaked my interest. I want to seek out this ancient elf, so that I might speak to him… hopefully gain some knowledge from him… she said that he lives in the trade quarter, by the coast. I shall have to seek this elf out, perhaps he might have some answers for me…
As we were beginning to leave, a giant of a man (at least as tall as Dekar, which is saying something), scales running up his face and neck, came down from the balcony ringing the plaza… he said that we are welcome to stay in his quarter, of Magic and Opulence, as he very much would like to speak with Dekar. He seems to share the same type of draconic blood as Dekar, his scales red, but he seems similar enough. I don’t have a good feeling about him, based on what Hasim’s reaction to his appearance was… we will see.
As we were leaving, I just followed Grimaldus, as he seemed to know exactly where he was going. Honestly, I wasn’t paying that close of attention to our ultimate destination, for my eyes were distracted by the beauty surrounding me… the city is absolutely breathtaking in its architecture and design. As we walked, a giant mummified spider, draped in opulent barding, passed us by.
Vines and flowers hang from the very walls of this place. Sparkling fountains form centerpieces to catch the eye of passersby. The different ziggurats that form the city quadrants are connected by elaborate bridges crossing over the cerulean blue ocean. The view is breathtaking. But, as beautiful as this place is, I cannot help but feel that it is naught but a pretty wrapping over something sinister and corrupt...
I might have thought that it was just because of my discomfort with the amount of necromancy rampant in this place, but then Grimaldus confirmed my suspicions… I felt the weight of his hand on my shoulder as he said: “The difference between this city and Runestone… Runestone is a disgusting individual that hides itself under perfume. Wei Jang bathes and then puts on the same perfume to hide what’s in its heart.”
Grimaldus was leading us to a place called the House of Earthly Delights. It is a brothel. Apparently, according to Grimaldus, whores are the only trustworthy non-duplicitous people in this city. A part of me wonders if he knows the location and occupants of every whorehouse in the region, but I find myself disinclined to ask... I don't think I actually want to know...
We passed several groups of people wagering on racing pigeons. I could feel Meriwald perk up with interest at the smaller birds flitting around. "No!" I admonished him. I was not about to have him starting any trouble, especially not when so many of us had been so injured.
A child ran up and handed Dekar a flower. Is that a weird custom here? For random children on the street to hand flowers to people? Odd...
As we approached our destination, I was shocked at the sheer size and opulence of the place... it is easily the size of a small keep. "This is a whorehouse?" I mused.
"And a temple." Hasim answered. Grimaldus made a comment about a lot of worshiping taking place within those walls. Just how much time has Grimaldus spent frequenting whorehouses, I wonder?
The interior of the establishment is just as ornately opulent as the exterior, just a hairsbreadth shy of being garish. The patrons and employees were both a wider variety of people than I've seen occupying the same room since the battlefields of the Union War. My attention was drawn to the middle-aged woman addressing Grimaldus.
By her manner of speaking, I assumed she must be the priestess who runs this establishment.
"So, you bring foreigners? Her gaze swept over me. "Ah, I see your tastes have changed." I wonder if she would have spoken the same if she knew I could understand her, but then again, the woman runs a brothel, she probably would have.
The madame seemed utterly enchanted by Rowan, at first thinking her a child. I disabused her of that foolish, albeit common, misconception, and she seemed even more enchanted. She even went so far as to offer Rowan some sugared lemons... Rowan seemed pleased. But does the woman realize that Rowan is very likely twice my own age? Perhaps even older? Apparently not...
Grimaldus booked a room for himself and I think he rented one for Hasim as well. The woman winked at him and said they would talk later. Dekar and Inira also booked a room. I sincerely hoped it would be out of earshot of mine. But I didn't book a room yet... I was unsure if I would want to spend the extra gold for the nicer accommodations, as Grimaldus had done, so I decided I would go with the others for now and we all followed Grimaldus up to his chambers. I would see the expensive and regular rooms, and then make my decision.
As soon as he entered, Grimaldus stripped off his bloodstained gear and sank into the massive tub recessed into the floor. I was relieved to see that his wounds appeared to be nearly healed, and none of the blood soaking his garments appeared to be fresh. I still find it slightly odd that he doesn’t seem to have any sense of personal modesty when it comes to bathing, even around the rest of the party. I’m not complaining by any means… but it is just so far from what I am accustomed to.
I asked Grimaldus if this is more of what he has been telling me of… he replied that this is a better representation of what the east has to offer, but it is not what he is planning on showing me. I was distracted from further conversation when Hasim approached me with a bundle of items and asked me if I would tell him if they were magical and if so, what do they do. Some of them were, others weren’t. The most interesting out of the lot is the beaded necklace that each bead will release a fireball when thrown. Then, I heard him ask Grimaldus about Damian... Apparently, since the members of Hasim’s order believe him to be dead, he needs to take on a new identity.
Even though he promised that he wasn't looking to steal anything from Damian, I don't fully trust him-and I definitely don't trust him enough to risk any harm coming to Damian. I told him that if he wanted to take a name not his own and related to Damian, then he should take the name Viktor von Carstein... it might even be enough to distract the horrible ghoul enough to leave Damian alone... I have seen Hasim's handiwork... I think that he would have a much better chance of defeating von Carstein's failed experiment than Damian would be if he was blindsided by it…
A table was set up in the foyer, heavily laden with fruits, breads, wine, coffee, and the centerpiece of a roasted boar. Meriwald immediately flew over to the coffee and dipped his beak in to try it. He squealed, and his eyes grew to the size of the saucers the cups sat upon. Then, he began flying in circles, exclaiming how amazing he felt, so full of energy. I am glad the little shit didn’t poison himself, but if he can tolerate it, I decided to try some of the odd, brown sludge-like substance…
Rowan made as if to sneak out, probably wanting to find a tree to sleep in or something, but Hasim stopped her. She said that she wanted to sleep outside, but I see his point, she looks like a child to most humans… she would be making herself a target by sleeping outside, alone. Grimaldus bade her to sleep in an actual bed. But, I think it was Hasim who finally convinced her… he asked her to stay in his room, because he would feel much safer if the person who can turn into a giant scorpion was in the same room with him as he slept. It was a smart move on his part, I would have likely just told her that it was too dangerous to sleep outside alone, we are in a massive city, after all…
Everyone began to leave, to give Grimaldus his privacy and much needed rest. As I walked past him, though, he reached out and put his hand on my arm. It was his words, more than his touch that caused me to turn around…
“When I was underneath that net, and that fourth spear pierced me... the next time I looked up, I was away. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” I replied, unsure where he was going with this.
Before I knew what he was doing, he tugged on my arm and pulled me into his lap. One second I was standing by the door ready to leave, and the next, I was in the tub, and his lips were on mine. Any protests or concern for my now saturated clothes was lost in the heat of his kiss. I vaguely felt Meriwald leave, but even that barely registered in my thoughts…
The first light of dawn is beginning to peak over the horizon as I write this. Last night was… different. I barely even have words to describe it, and I am not going to go into too much detail here… but there is something to be said for the mortality of men when it comes to the art of lovemaking. I am not going to make a judgement on it one way or the other, but there is something to be said for it… it is different than that of the elves… and the most logical explanation that I can come up with is that because of their shorter lifespans, humans seem to do everything with a sense of their mortality in mind… last night, Grimaldus loved as though that night was his last, and it’s not as if we are actually on the eve of battle.
I find myself now thinking of those nights in the forests of Alcarin… of Ravlor and I...
It feels like a lifetime ago, even though it’s been barely a decade… I treasure those memories, and will forever, but I am also grateful that Ravlor didn’t ask me to stay… for if he had, I might have agreed, and then… I would never have had this… and, even though I know that this will inevitably lead to more pain, I can’t help myself. I scoffed when Ravlor told me that the pillars of love are forming, but he was right… and I am terrified of what it means for the future… but now, when I look over at Grimaldus, so relaxed and peaceful in his slumber, I cannot help myself. The pillars are forming, perhaps they already have been… I just hope that when our time passes, or his life fades away, I hope that I have no regrets...
Grimaldus is stirring, I want to wake him with a kiss...
A Hafla
10th of Solae, 1485
Tenth day of Solae, 1485
Grimaldus decided to hold a “hafla” to draw the priests out of the tower so we could gain entrance to it. I assumed that it was some type of party, but when Secilia asked what it was, Grimaldus confirmed that it is a party… but Hasim said that it is akin to a party, a drunken brawl, and an orgy all at the same time. I didn’t think that was what Grimaldus was planning… definitely the party and most likely drunken brawl, but orgy?
Poor Secilia opened herself up to be the subject of many jokes when she asked what he meant… I shook my head and told her that she doesn’t want to attend one. Grimaldus asked me if I am speaking from experience. I think he was being flirtatious, but neither was I entirely sure, so I told him that I am speaking from observation, rather than experience. Hasim looked surprised and asked me if Elves like to watch.
I don’t know what it was about that conversation that made it go downhill so quickly, but it did. I would have been able to get a laugh out of it, if Hasim wasn’t so entirely serious. I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate his blatant ignorance… I feel as though I should almost write a primer on Elves, and ask Grimaldus to help me translate it into Yongrel so Hasim will understand it, and then give it to him to read. Perhaps then he would educate himself enough to not be so ignorant. Perhaps.
Since the decision was made to host a hafla in the middle of the streets, Grimaldus set about making preparations. He led us to the Copper Bazaar, a massive marketplace by the docks. He was looking for a friend of his, Yahiro, or something like that.
Inira, Secilia and I were distracted by a book stand. The seller, an ancient human woman (I’m getting better at telling human ages now, I think), Ramela was her name, was a wealth of information. I am fairly certain that she must know every single book on her shelves, for when I asked about regional history books, she immediately pulled them down for me. She had a total of four, and her prices were reasonable, so I purchased the lot of them. The Schism, The Primeval Kings, The Great Mother, and Children of the Mother. I think I shall start reading them tomorrow.
Ramela was very curious… she asked me many questions about where I am from, and how I came to be here. She asked after my husband, and was surprised when I informed her that I am unmarried. I assume that it is a bit of a cultural shock to her. I explained that among my people, while arranged marriages of political import are seen, it is more common for us to remain unmarried until, and if, we decide to get married. My life would likely be different if I was nobility, but as I am a wizard from Egig Ero Fa, I am able to move about much as I choose.
I caught Secilia listening intently to our conversation, while trying to be nonchalant about it. Does the poor girl really not know anything of Elven society? I think I should like to take her to Alcarin at some point, take her to the libraries, let her see the land of her mother’s people…
I found Grimaldus arguing with a blue-skinned man, I think he’s a genasi, over by a silk merchant. When I walked up, I discovered that this was indeed Yahiro, and his wife, apparently a woman whom Grimaldus has a rather hostile history with. Her presence thrums with magic, but it is different… she seems more of a witch than a wizard or sorcerer.
Hopefully she is trustworthy enough… she appears to be genuine with Yahiro, but then again, I trusted Filandrel implicitly… so I am loath to put too much faith in my insight regarding people at this point… Damian and Grimaldus were the only ones who noticed something was off with Filandrel, well, no… Ravlor never liked him either… but Ravlor doesn’t like very many people, so I never thought much of it… besides, I’ve known Filandrel for most of my life… okay, I need to stop now… I can’t go down that path again. I am in the East now (although this area is a shithole swamp). I no longer have the staff in my possession, so there is no reason for Filandrel to bother me. He can’t scry on me anyways (although the others are completely open for that)… Enough. I’m not going to think about that any longer… I came here to get away from all of that.
A procession interrupted Grimaldus’ reunion. A large procession of priests wove their way through the bazaar, sacrificing fish and beating themselves. Something was going on with a mother and child, that was causing Hasim a great deal of anxiety. He asked Grimaldus to stop them from taking the family. So, Grimaldus walked out into the street and began challenging them. He cast a thaumatergy spell to amplify his voice, and berated them for worshiping a false god and leading these people away from their freedom. The lead priest (who I now know is one of the people whom Hasim says murdered his wife) rose to the challenge. He and Grimaldus agreed to a debate at the foot of the tower tonight after sundown. When he asked Grimaldus’ name though… he told him “Damian”.
What game is he playing? Giving them Damian’s name?
Someone managed to get the family out of the area, thankfully, and the priests departed.
Later that night, the hafla was arranged in the streets. Tables were brought out and laden with food and drink. Grimaldus set up a series of pillows in a low tent and began playing. Secilia and I both joined him. This is where I sit now and write. I like the sound of the strange instrument of his, Grimaldus calls it a “morin khuur”. Someone brought out some drums, and there are people beginning to dance. This dance is different from the ones that I know... it seems to be done alone, or collaboratively with a group. It doesn't appear to be a couples dance like most of the dances in the west... it seems less stilted, more organic with the beats of the music... it actually looks like it might be fun...
Dekar just challenged everyone to a drinking competition, barring any snakemen, as they are apparently unaffected by alcohol. This will be entertaining... I might even indulge tonight… I’m not going to join Dekar’s drinking competition or anything, but I could use a bit to drink. I haven’t done so since Dekar and I drank with the dwarves in Yaharghul… but tonight… tonight might be a good night for a party…
Oh fuck. Meriwald is trying to join Dekar’s drinking competition. He’s ignoring me. Fuck. I’m going to have to go get the little bastard back. I even threatened to dismiss him (which I never do), and that didn’t even work. I am not about to let him poison himself on alcohol…
I’ll return to my writing once I have Meriwald in hand.
Later…
When I was chasing Meriwald, because of course, the little shit didn’t cooperate, I saw someone crouched on a roof, watching us. I looked over towards my friends and saw that Grimaldus had stripped down to his waist and was teamed up with Dekar to take all comers in a fighting match.
Secilia, Yahiro, and Rowan left with Hasim to go to the tower, for “Damian’s” debate with the priest. I hoped that they would be okay. I debated about accompanying them, but opted instead to stay and watch the fight. No magic… I’d never actually seen Grimaldus fight something without armor and without calling on any of his power, so I was curious… what can I say?
Before she left, Secilia asked me if I trust her. That made me a bit skeptical, because the only time anyone asks if I trust them, they normally do something fairly insane… but she just wanted to give me her talisman. Apparently it will let me teleport to her, or visa versa, in the event of an emergency. She said that if I see the light of her celestial summon, then they are in trouble and I should go immediately to assist them. With that, I felt no guilt about my decision to stay and watch the brawl.
I didn’t even really get to watch the fighting though, because it seemed like no sooner had they started in earnest, than the masked figure on the roof began to cast a spell. I countered it, and I could feel the anger emanating from him as he pointed a finger at me and incanted a spell. Inira had my back though, and it fizzled in his hand.
This was not what I had been planning on doing this evening… this was supposed to be fun, not a wizard duel. My patience was gone, so I released the magic missiles from my cloak, and watched as his mask shattered and fell away, revealing his true form. He was some kind of weird snake person, and I shouted for Grimaldus. As he and Dekar ran over, our assailant flew into the air on a weird black disc. The rest of the fight was a blur, most of my attention was focused on countering every spell the bastard tried to cast. I don’t know who he is, but I did manage to counter what looked like a time-stop.
Secilia teleported next to me and summoned her celestial guardian who shot and killed the sorcerer as he was flying back toward the tower.
There is a bunch of screaming now… and smashing on the gates of Alfarid… and so it begins…
Journey to Alfarid
7th-9th of Solae, 1485
Seventh day of Solae, 1485
Well, I didn’t have a restful meditation last night… and it wasn’t altogether due to the fact that we were staying the in lair of a vampire… rather, it was the constant interruptions…
First, it was Dekar… I had just begun to sink into my meditation when he approached me. At first, I was alarmed, because he doesn’t normally seek me out for conversation - much less disturb my rest to do so. He asked if I could cast the Dream spell on him, to walk into his dreams and search his memories. There is a place that he has been, but cannot remember, and he hopes that I can help him relive the memory so he can remember. I explained that I was able to walk through Damian’s memories with him, but I honestly don’t know if that is because of what Damian is, or if it is something that I will be able to replicate with Dekar. I also warned him that I was unable to control Damian’s dream, and I couldn’t choose what memories we saw… and that… the fact that I saw everything that Damian did… I don’t want to see anything that Dekar would prefer be kept private… I can’t control what I will see, and I know he has seen many things that he likely doesn’t want to share.
Dekar said he is fine with whatever I may see, as he has nothing to hide. How someone can live the lifestyle that he has, and still be comfortable with someone else looking into their memories, I do not understand… I don’t wish to look into my own memories of the war, much less share them with someone who wasn’t there…
Dekar did say that he doesn’t want me to see what he saw in the trees in Latria… he said that I don’t want to see what he saw in the trees. But, he said he will try to avoid thinking about it, because he doesn’t want to remember or relive that experience either. Meriwald chose that moment to interject in a teasing voice, “that’s not going to work!”
As much as I hate to admit it, Meriwald is likely right… I don’t entirely know if I want to see the memories that Dekar has… it’s not the memories of war that I’m concerned about, for I have seen battle… it is more the memories of his life and childhood – I have the feeling that I may not be able to look at him the same, depending on what they are… for, he conducts himself like someone who has seen far too much trauma in a young life and has tried to cut himself off from all emotions except anger. I think it must be a survival mechanism of some kind… But, I trust Dekar to know what he is and is not okay with me knowing… so I agreed. I will cast Dream on him whenever we have a good opportunity.
I almost forgot to mention, the gnome, Rowan, went off on her own earlier. She came up to me and said that she needed to go do “druid shit.” I don’t know what she meant by “shit”… is it a gnome idiom or something? I’ve heard it used in numerous contexts, obviously, but with how odd she is… I hope she isn’t going to try to track down the hydra by its scat… gross.
Meriwald was chasing a mouse – something that Dekar noticed was odd… apparently Meriwald has seen numerous mice and rats in this place. I am too tired to deal with it right now, so Meriwald left to show Dekar what he was talking about.
I resumed my meditation… just in time to be interrupted again. This time by Secilia.
She seemed completely clueless… does she not understand that interrupting my meditation is just as disruptive as walking over to Grimaldus or Dekar and kicking them awake? No… she probably doesn’t. After all, she is a child who was deprived a relationship with her parents – and I seriously doubt the church that raised her would have taught her the benefits and logistics of meditation…
And, just like Dekar, she wasn’t disturbing me for something urgent… her questions could easily have waited until morning… she wanted to know what I know of the undead curse. Seriously? I know how to kill undead… I haven’t spent a great deal of time researching them or studying the curse… I try to avoid the undead whenever I can… I told her that she should talk to Inira if she wants more information about undead… for she is the one who raises them…
Finally, I was able to get some rest…
In the morning, the vampire Ostraba took the refugees and made their way for the fishing village where we met Hasim and Secilia. She thinks they might be safer there. I don’t know, they might be… but I’m more inclined to think that they are all doomed and that there is nothing that can be done about it.
Then we left. We decided to make our way to Alfarid, and come back to deal with the hydra later… I find this to be a relief, as we are not currently prepared to intelligently deal with it… I want to have more information before we venture into the swamp after a dark beast.
As we set out on the road, following Grimaldus (for he knows the way to Alfarid), we passed a series of torture racks and breaking wheels… people were in various states of torture or decay. It’s disturbing… what people would put up with this level of depravity from their leaders? This explains so much more about Grimaldus’ hatred of the snake people…
We came upon a man holding up a sign, warning us that we were entering the territory of the man-eaters. I was thinking that we were going to have to fight him, but he’s apparently a friend of Grimaldus. He is a big man, goes by the name Arslan, and he bears a lightning bolt scar on his chest. Grimaldus seemed happy to see him, and they talked in Yongrel for a time. I picked up much of it, but not everything, as they spoke very quickly and his accent is different than Grimaldus’.
Arslan apparently belongs to a group of Kord worshipers who call themselves Repatriats, and they live in the south of Rajendros, where the olive trees wither. He claims that whenever one of them dies or is killed, a statue there brings them back to life. I am skeptical, and Grimaldus’ apparent surprise makes me even more skeptical.
Arslan seems to be a decent enough man though… he didn’t even seem the least bit surprised at my presence, at least, no more than any of the others’, so that is at least in his favor.
Grimaldus talked him into leading us to the man-eaters… and joining us in destroying them. If it weren’t for the fact that they were preying on (in the literal sense of the word), travelers and refugees fleeing the swamp, I would have almost felt bad… they were mostly half-naked and wielding clubs… it was a slaughter. The only one that I felt no remorse for whatsoever was the leader, well, the leader and whatever the magic-wielding priestess (?) was that accompanied her… they were obviously preying on the others’ simple minds, and seemed to be orchestrating the whole thing… a fact that was driven home with a demon of pestilence and decay was summoned by their sacrificial deaths.
We dispatched the demon without too much difficulty, but it poisoned Dekar and Grimaldus… I am just relieved that they seem to be better now…
Arslan is camping with us tonight… I don’t know how I feel about his presence, but he seems to be decent enough…
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Eighth day of Solae, 1485
We are now traveling in a wagon, that of an overly obese wine merchant named Bekir. I was (again!) roused from my meditation by the arrival of this man and his cart. Dekar apparently met with him, and… unsurprisingly, this merchant also knows Grimaldus… this Bekir offered to give us a ride to Alfarid in exchange for us protecting him and his wagon on the road.
It has been an uneventful day, overall. We passed around some of the wine, it isn’t bad by any means, but it naturally doesn’t hold a candle to Alcarin wine… why is it something as simple as wine that makes me feel a pang of homesickness? I couldn’t wait for an excuse to leave Alcarin, and now, I find myself wishing for a glass of its wine.
Today will be a short entry… Dekar is falling asleep now, so I’m going to wait for him to fully fall asleep, then I shall cast Dream and we will see what happens…
Later…
Well, that was disconcerting… I found myself in a mountain of corpses… the weight of them bearing down on my body, suffocating the breath from my lungs. I had to use all of my strength to pull myself out, I didn’t know where Dekar was, and I feared that if I blasted my way out, I would risk harming Dekar - especially because if this is the dream that I entered, then I was loathe to find what he was reliving. I finally was able to claw my way free, and then I saw Dekar running towards me, clawing his way up the mountain of bodies.
A black dog with pointed ears was following him. It said some cryptic things about Dekar needing to find eleven pieces of something that he must reunite in order to learn the knowledge he seeks. What knowledge is he seeking so badly that he would be speaking to an entity like this dog - for I know not what it is, but I know that it must be some dark entity… dogs do not speak of the things that this entity spoke of.
Then, as promptly as it began, the spell ended and I found my consciousness back in my own body. I didn’t end the spell. What the fuck happened? There is no way that something should have been able to invade Dekar’s dream (for he told me that he hasn’t ever seen or meet a creature like that much less be able to end my spell! It didn’t even cast a dispel magic, it just faded away, and with it, my spell. It didn’t tell me much, but it did mention that I should ask Secilia for more information… alas… what has the girl gotten herself mixed up in?
I need to meditate now… I need to work this out in my mind… I cannot have something infiltrating my spells, and I don’t want such an entity infiltrating my friends’ minds either…
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Ninth day of Solae, 1485
Fuck this city! We are in Alfarid now. How a man like Grimaldus grew up and lived in a place that is as barbaric and horrible as this, I do not know… As we rode into the city, we passed more breaking wheels and starving people in stocks. One was a young boy… a child in stocks. His mother was begging to be able to feed her son, and the guards shoved her away. The others looked disturbed, except Grimaldus and Hasim… they seemed to expect the same.
I caught Secilia’s eye… I tried to subtly shake my head to deter the rage that I could see hardening her face. I know, and I sympathize, but we need to bide our time and learn a bit more about this place before we act…
A few minutes later, I had to force myself to follow my own advice. Hasim was leading us to a brothel, and a couple young women were watching us curiously. A guard noticed and began whipping them to force them back inside the building… I could feel the tingling sensation of magic as I subconsciously began gathering magic in my palm. How dare he? Fortunately Grimaldus intervened, for I don’t know what I would have done had he not… I have sent an ice bolt through a man’s groin for less.
Grimaldus deescalated the situation though, handing the man a pouch of gold in exchange for the two girls. Momentarily, I was shocked. I didn’t want to believe that Grimaldus would buy a couple of slave girls… not after all his talk of personal freedom and merit. I was relieved though, because he promptly broke the collars that they wore around their necks and told them to run, they were free.
We then followed Hasim into very the back of the brothel. I have never felt as uneasy as I did walking through that opulent room. I heard cries as a couple of women were being whipped by a guard. Again, I was so tempted to teleport them safely away and then burn this place to the ground… but I stayed my hand. This is Grimaldus’ world… not mine. The lascivious glances that were being cast at myself, Inira and Secilia brought that fact home all the more… I do not belong here… I pulled my hood low, even in the oppressive heat and smoke, and followed Grimaldus, close enough that I could almost feel his cloak brushing me as we picked our way around the reclining patrons.
Hasim led us to a back office, where we met his fence, a man who goes by the name “Haltan the Sly”. He doesn’t seem very sly to me… rather, he seems to me to be more like a snake in the grass - just cowardly laying in wait to see what he can gain at the expense of others. He made an offer or two, but he was mainly talking to Grimaldus and Hasim.
I am glad that I haven’t let it be known that I understand the Yongrel tongue… and the fact that Grimaldus hasn’t spoken to me in his native language since we arrived on these shores, tells me that it is probably wise for me to keep this hidden…
On Eastern Shores and Swamplands
6th of Solae, 1485
Sixth day of Solea, 1485
Much has happened since my last entry… Nothing of particular note when we were on the boat - suffice to say we are no longer aboard the Jackdaw…
About a week ago, we stopped in a port and picked up a forest gnome passenger. She reminds me a bit of Priscilla Tringles, but maybe it’s simply that she is a forest gnome druid… She doesn’t talk much. The others seem surprised that she hasn’t approached them for money yet, but it seems likely that constantly grubbing for money isn’t a forest gnome practice… good. She has a small bird with her, I think his name is “Cheese”.
The rest of the voyage seemed to be going smoothly, until yesterday, when the captain, a worn, weatherbeaten and crippled man by the name of Anatolia, informed us that he was dropping us off at a fishing village because he didn’t want to lose his boat to pirates taking us to the port that we have apparently paid him for. I didn’t really catch the reasoning behind it, as I was below deck going over my spellbook to select what I wanted to prepare for the day. Grimaldus was bathing (he didn’t even have the courtesy to use the other cabin!), and it was putting a strain even on my well-honed concentration.
Grimaldus tried to guilt the captain into taking us all the way to our destination, but he adamantly refused… apparently there was also a sandstorm approaching that he refused to take the ship through. As irritating as it was, I do see the captain’s point of view… he doesn’t want to lose his ship and be stranded.
The fishing village that we were dropped off at was abandoned, it was all covered in cobwebs… Grimaldus said that everyone had left the village a couple weeks earlier. There were about a dozen chickens running around the village - which seemed to perk Dekar up a bit, I think he was tired of ship rations. (They were horrible - if I would have had more foresight, I would have brought several months worth of trail rations from Alcarin, at least we would have had better food that way.)
As we were investigating the village and surrounding area, something flew over us. Grimaldus said that it was a celestial being. And that we were going to journey to the Tree of Woe in the morning.
Meriwald asked what we were all talking about, and Grimaldus attempted to translate for him… he tries, he really does… but he told Meriwald that we were heading to the “bush of sorrow”. That set Meriwald off on a rant, making jokes about the name… “beware the shrub of sadness…” I tried hard to not burst out laughing - I managed, but it was difficult.
I cast Leomund’s Tiny Hut that night, just to be safe. Inira and Dekar took the first watch. Just when I was starting to sink into my meditation, I heard Inira call out to someone - a name I’d never heard before. That jolted me out of my meditation with a start…
A resplendent celestial figure stood behind a robed woman. I recognized him as a summoned guardian, but what caught my attention was the horribly injured naked man standing next to her, clutching a newborn baby to his chest.
Inira walked right up to them and began talking. I woke Grimaldus before leaving the hut - I was not about to leave him sleeping unprotected to deal with whatever this situation was going to turn into.
Inira was talking to the woman, as I got closer, her elven lineage was obvious. A half-elf, with eyes that have seen too much. The man though… he was the real threat - even appearing half dead, naked and covered with blood, it was how he moved. At least he seemed to be protecting the baby…
When I called out, demanding to know who he was, he said his name is Hasim, and “please do not curse me with your elven gaze.” The man actually looked fearful, and didn’t meet my eyes.
What in the ever living fuck? Who actually believes that just because I’m an elf, I will curse them with my gaze? That’s horrible, not to mention not even something that can be done. Bestowing a curse? Yes, if I was a filthy necromancer. (Sorry, Inira.) But I am not. I studied conjuration magic at the Alcarin academy of Egig Ero Fa. I am not going to randomly curse a man I have never met, especially not with my gaze. Is this what people in this land think of Elves? No wonder Grimaldus was so wary, watching my every move when we first met him in Latria.
What the fuck? I’m just glad that I don’t think Meriwald heard that, he’s kind of distracted, amusing himself with terrifying the small bird, Cheese. It is a good thing, for he would never let me live that one down… “do not curse me with your elven gaze.” What the fuck?
Grimaldus joined us and asked what his purpose here was. The man, Hasim, said that he was trying to protect his newborn son. Apparently the man and his wife were crucified on that tree of woe Grimaldus mentioned, and he had to cut the baby from her womb.
Grimaldus held out his hand and told the newcomer to give him the baby. Inira seemed a bit shocked, and I wasn’t surprised when the man refused. She tried to say that she could heal the baby, but I could see where Grimaldus was going with this… if the mother was dead, then the baby hadn’t been fed, and if human babies are anything like Elven ones… they require near constant sustenance and care in order to survive, much less thrive.
Grimaldus turned to Inira and told her that the baby didn’t require healing, it was exhausted and already nearing starvation. “Clearly his wife is dead, otherwise she would be here. Give. The. Baby. To. Me.” he insisted.
The man still refused to do as Grimaldus commanded, saying that he would give the baby to anyone but Grimaldus. When Grimaldus said that the baby would die of starvation within the next eight hours, I decided to intervene. If he believes that I can curse him with my gaze, then maybe he’ll be frightened enough to not want to go against me… so I walked up and held my hands out, saying “You apparently know of the magic of my people… hand the babe to me.” he looked like he was about to refuse, so I said “I give you my word.”
That man is so ignorant. He actually said “if anyone knows anything, it is that elves are incapable of lying.” What the fuck? Does he have any idea HOW OFTEN elves lie? One word… Filandrel. But at least, he handed me the baby - which I promptly gave to Grimaldus.
Grimaldus held the baby in one hand - that’s how tiny it was. Grimaldus chanted a prayer, and its color improved and it stopped crying. He handed the baby back to me, and I handed him back to Hasim. (Then I used prestidigitation to clean myself up again.)
Grimaldus switched to speaking Yongrel, and he began interrogating Hasim on why he was nailed to the tree, and who did it. Apparently something about the Serpent’s Claw or Tail or something. Without understanding the context, it is difficult to fully grasp a conversation. Later on, Hasim explained that the east is largely run by criminal organizations working out in the open. “Legal” criminals, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but apparently, they also believe that elves can curse you with their gaze and are incapable of lying… I wonder when someone came across an Elf who lied to them about that to even get those stories started… but it is of no actual concern, merely a passing amusement.
Grimaldus dictated that we would sleep in the tiny hut, but Hasim would sleep away from us, in the granary. As Hasim left, I warned him that he had better not harm the gnome sleeping within, and if he did, I would kill him. “With her gaze.” Grimaldus stated, in all seriousness. Wow. But, even I have to admit that was a good joke.
The half-elven woman came up and asked where she could stay. Inira introduced her as Secilia. Apparently they met in Yaharghul a few months earlier.
Grimaldus came over and asked who she was, because she didn’t look like a normal human. I told him that she is a half-elf.
“Half elf, that is to say that this is a child of an elf and a human?” He looked oddly pensive.
“Yes…” I replied, thinking the answer obvious. “That is what half-elf means.”
“So it is possible.”
I heard Meriwald in my mind whispering “What the fuck?” This time… I wholeheartedly agree with him. If it were anyone but Grimaldus, I would think he might have just been joking. I don’t think so, but I hope so. Either way, it is not something I can spend too much thought on at the moment, there are more pressing matters at hand right now.
We ended up taking the baby into the tiny hut, Grimaldus laid him down on a pile of furs, so he would be safe and warm. I sat down next to him and started singing quietly. I figured that the lullaby might help, it is the same one my mother sang to me, and the same one that comforted the young Aeliianna in Yaharghul when Ravlor sang it to her.
Secilia was looking at me oddly. She asked what song I was singing. I told her, it’s just a traditional Elvish lullaby. She said she remembers her mother singing it to her. We talked for a time and I learned a bit about her. I was hoping that if she could give me some information about her mother, I might be able to help her learn of her family, but alas, all she knows is that her mother’s name was Helena. I do not recognize the name as anyone I’ve ever met or heard tell of… judging by the area she was born, I’m assuming that her mother was an exile…
I asked her age, and she said she believes she is around thirty years old. If she lost her family when she was five, that would have been twenty-five years ago… right at the beginning of the undead sweeping the land… My first impression of her was confirmed… her eyes have seen far too much. I looked at her and felt as though my heart was breaking… no child should have to see the things that she had seen… her entire village, her mother, torn apart by undead hordes… it is no wonder that when I misconstrued her comment earlier about being already dead, and thought for a split second that she was some form of undead, it is no wonder why I caught a flash of rage in her eyes…
I apologized for suspecting her of being undead, for I was honestly impressed, having learned what I had, that she hadn’t tried to strike me.
She is so young… when I was her age, I was consumed with my studies, tucked away in the safety of Egig Ero Fa… I don’t wish to imagine facing undead hordes as a child. How must that shape you? I am haunted by memories of the war? She was a child! Children should not be anywhere close to war… much less have their villages be the very beginnings of it…
I found myself wishing for some of the eloquence of the others, even Filandrel would know what to say to her, for he is nothing if not eloquent. I have my moments, but what does one say when they are faced with the cold mask of a woman, hiding so much pain and trauma from their childhood? I looked to her and simply told her that I am sorry. No one should have had to see what she saw.
Secilia brushed it off as nothing, but I know… I know what she must have seen in her village… I know what it is like to see everyone you care about torn apart around you… I am just fortunate enough that it wasn’t my mother, and I was old enough to do something about it… however futile it was, I was still able to take some of them with us…
My watch came quickly. I was prepared to take it with just Meriwald, but Secilia opted to join me. At first, I thought she might want to talk, but no… the first half of our watch passed in silence.
Just as I was about to break the silence and try to strike up a conversation, I saw the gnome, Rowan, heading off into the swamp, with her chicken in tow. It looked like she was following something. I called out to her to stop, and when she refused, I told her that her chicken would die in the swamp. I was hoping that would be enough to get her to stay within the relative safety of the village, but she simply sent the chicken away and started down into the swamp. I asked Meriwald to follow her, maintaining a safe distance for himself, but just to make sure that no harm came to her, and if it did, then I would be able to intervene. Maybe it is because of Priscilla’s assistance when I was in Crastvongrad, or maybe it is something else, but I have no wish to see harm befall the forest gnome.
I could feel Meriwald moving in my mind. Rowan was following a small myconid, a child? They made their way through the swamp until they reached a dead adult myconid. The swamp is corrupted by the undead curse. It is poisoning the land and the water, which is apparently leading to the death of the myconids and a general famine on the land.
We agreed to deal with the issue in the morning, and Secilia and I finished our watch.
When dawn came and everyone awoke, Rowan and I informed the others what had transpired during the night… we agreed to go into the swamp and try to find a woman wearing an iron mask that was being held captive by ghouls… I can’t believe that I agreed to this… I came here to get away from everything… I wanted to get away for a while… not come to the east and deal with undead incursions here too…
Before we set off, Grimaldus talked to Hasim (who at least was cleaned up a little bit now) about the necessity to find a trade caravan or similar group of people to take the baby - as it would not be safe to bring him into the swamp with us. Hasim agreed to send him to the caravan at a nearby village, but asked if anyone had an amulet or something of value that we could give the child so he wouldn’t be sold.
What the fuck is up with this place? Why are these people okay with selling babies?! If anyone even suggested the idea of selling an Elven child into slavery, every one of our people within a thousand miles would descend on them to relieve them of the notion… and their life.
Grimaldus dedicated the child to Kord, he held the baby aloft and chanted a prayer. The skies darkened and lightning flashed across the sky. He demanded the child’s name, and when Hasim told him, he shouted it to the heavens. “Sabbah.” The baby cried, or shouted, I really don’t know - I haven’t spent time with children, much less human infants…
When Grimaldus returned the baby to Hasim, I could see a marking on the child’s back… a lightning bolt and a dagger. I gave Hasim a piece of parchment and a quill to write a letter to his child, which he did (he seemed insulted when I asked if he could write), then wrapped the parchment around a bent nail and tucked it into the babe’s blanket. Then, he handed his child to Secilia, who gave him to her celestial summon, with the command to take the baby to the village that Grimaldus had mentioned. Hopefully the child survives.
After that, we set off into the swamp (leaving the myconid child, Cheese, and Rowan’s pet chicken behind). Have I mentioned that I hate swamps? As we ventured further, the fetid air made me wish for the clean, cool breezes of Alcarin.
We came upon a clearing that held an old broken-down shrine, it looked to be a shrine to some aberrant beast. Dekar, naturally, walked right up to it and smashed it to pieces with his sword, leaving the weapon embedded as an insult to whomever the shrine belonged to. It didn’t take us long before we learned of its caretakers… for we soon found ourselves confronted by several tree blights and four trolls. Three of them seemed pretty average, but one of them was overly large, and I could see that inside its body were the twisted, tormented faces of people that the troll had consumed. Their spirits were being tortured, before (most likely) being devoured by the beast.
I don’t feel like recounting the exact happenings of the fight, suffice to say that we defeated them handily. Rowan can shapeshift into larger animals than I’ve seen most druids transform into… she turned into a giant snake and wrapped herself around one of the tree blights to keep it restrained. I remember hoping that Grimaldus wouldn’t attack her, I am not entirely sure how deep his hatred of snakes runs, and I would have hated for him to have automatically harmed the forest gnome in the form of a snake. He didn’t though, which I was glad for - I know that it can be difficult… each time Inira summons one of her undead, I have to make a conscious effort not to immediately lash out at it, even when she has her skeletons forming a ring of protection around us. Old habits die hard.
Rowan and Grimaldus led us to the most likely area that the masked woman was being held… the way was blocked by stone, which Dekar moved out of the way with a spell. I still find it curious sometimes that he can cast some spells at will, but he has never expressed an interest in learning any more.
We found ourselves in a dark passageway, lit by luminescent mushrooms and other fungi - the like of which I haven’t seen outside of the upper levels of Narvoth. I hope that we don’t have to descend into the underdark… as we continued on, we were stopped by a large myconid, who refused to grant us leave to continue. The gnome talked to him for some time, and he finally agreed to let us accompany him to meet with the masked lady.
Admittedly, I thought she was merely a myth. A story told to children. The tale of Saint Ostraba, or something like that. She stood up to the Blood Lord and was punished, or something of the like. I thought we were going to enter the chamber and find a rotting corpse.
What we found wasn’t that far off, but it was also so far from the truth… the chamber that the myconid led us into was filled with people, refugees from the nearby villages. Sitting at the head of the room, on a throned dais, was a woman… or at least what appeared to be a woman. She was old, and an iron mask encompassed her entire face, locking onto her head with some mechanism. Her fingers and nails almost formed claws, and when she lifted her arms, I swear that I saw cobwebs in her joints.
This was the saint that everyone was counting on? A fucking vampire? I could feel the tingle of magic as I subconsciously began reaching for it, gathering it in my hands. She spoke with us, and told me that if I wished to kill her, to please get it over with. The woman is indeed the saint that I have heard tell of… apparently the Blood Lord turned her into a vampire as a form of twisted punishment and she locked herself behind the mask, and in this swamp, as a way to try to protect people from herself. I suppose it is commendable, but she is still undead…
She knows Grimaldus, apparently she helped him in the past when he was seeking out the death of a sorcerer king who he got his black mace from. She spoke with Rowan about the guardians. Apparently, the gnome has the power and the knowledge to regrow the ancient tree guardians… there is one in the center of the swamp, and if she can get there and we eliminate the creature, a hydra, that is at the source of the corruption, then she will be able to restore the guardian, or at least begin to grow a new one, and that will stop the spread of the undead curse.
If that is true, and Rowan can do such a thing… I think I must take her to the grove of the Unseen Circle, where Ertu was burned… if she can restore Ertu, or even grow a new guardian, it might repay the druids of the Unseen Circle for a bit of the help that they provided, at such a loss… especially since we were unable to save them and their grove. Also, it might bring some peace to Ravlor as well, seeing as I know he felt largely responsible for the druids who were killed there, since he led them in their defense…
Inira is now approaching the masked woman to speak… I am going to try to meditate, but I don’t know how I will be able to relax… I have been sitting here, writing instead of meditating, because I cannot relax in the lair of a vampire - however benevolent she may seem. I think I will stop writing now, for my mind is tired. None of the others seem particularly bothered by this, except, perhaps, for Secilia. Grimaldus is already asleep. I’m going to conjure a tiny hut, and ask Meriwald to guard me as I meditate, and then I shall guard him as he sleeps...
Aboard the Jackdaw
25th of Arborus, 1485
Twentieth-fifth day of Arborus, 1485
This journaled account is one that I shall strive to write in a more orderly fashion than the last, which is frankly little more than ramblings and rantings drawn from my thoughts, experiences and memories, all written down in the back of my spellbook… back when I didn’t expect to see my one hundred and fifty-third year…
I am quite pleased with this journal that I found in Runestone before we set sail… it will be far more practical for my purposes than the back pages of my spellbook. I wasn’t thinking about the longterm when I did that.
We have been aboard the Jackdaw for a couple of weeks now. It seems as though it’s been forever since I was last on a ship crossing the ocean, even though it has been just over a year… so much has happened since that voyage to Latria that I almost feel as though it was another century. Odd as it is, so much has changed… I daresay I have changed…
But is it such a bad thing? To change? I’m afraid that I don’t know the answer to that…
There is no denying that I have changed much in this past year, perhaps it is the amount of time that I have spent in the company and camaraderie of humans, or perhaps it stems from Filandrel’s betrayal… perhaps I will never know. Maybe I am not meant to.
I am so accustomed to spending my days analyzing and researching everything that I encounter… and I am well aware that I am still quite young for one of my race, so perhaps the very questions that burn in my mind and heart are those that others have already found their answers to… Filandrel, Epherion, Othver, all of the older elves whom I’ve talked to seem to be so sure of their path. Even Ravlor seems more sure than me, although our last few conversations raised more questions in regards to him… questions that I cannot think about right now. Especially not after last night…
Is it wrong of me? I know I’ve thought in the past that if Grimaldus were to have offered a night, before we faced Mustafat and the bendeth, I would have took him up on his offer without hesitation. So why do I hesitate now? Why do I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as though I am making a grave mistake? If I look deeper into my thoughts, I know the answer. It is just hard to admit it to myself. I am afraid.
I’m afraid of what may happen if I end up loving him too much. He is a man. And, he is not particularly young at that… so he is going to die. Ravlor gently hinted at it, but encouraged me to follow my heart because otherwise I will spend the rest of my life wondering. The Princess was far more blunt… men die. All of the years of their lives pass in what is to us, merely a season. I do not think I even want to know what Filandrel would say… I can imagine it quite well enough.
But even with this knowledge of the inevitability of loss… why do I still feel drawn to him? I feel as though he is a will-o-wisp and I am a lost traveller in the woods...
My instinct is to pull away, to distance myself from the inevitability of more pain, but that would be unfair to Grimaldus, and myself… for would it not be better to have whatever time together the fates allow, than to not even give the potential for love to flourish?
I have tried to broach this subject with Meriwald, for he is the only one I feel I can talk to about this matter, but he just deflects the subject - much like he does whenever I bring up his possible connection with the intoners...
It is questions like these that are keeping me from my meditations at night… I am already haunted by memories, and I fear that any memories I make with Grimaldus might break me in the future. If Ravlor was right about “the pillars of love starting to form”, I don’t know what I will do when those pillars inevitably shatter with death…
Sometimes I wish I could be a bit more like a human, (I’ll never let them know that though), with their unique ability to live life fully in the moment. My people always seem to be looking to the past, or, less often it seems, to the future… but for now… Grimaldus is heading this way. I think I might try to adopt a bit of the human practice of living in the moment…
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