“It is a privilege, a boon gifted by the temple and just as easily taken away. And seeing how your king didn’t want Agara to have a temple in his little city for fear of his enemies returning to life, I’d say this is the only place you have a chance of returning from the dead.” She pointed to the mouth. “And in there? It’s a living nightmare. The World Tree will kill every last one of you, and we won’t bring you back.”
“You would condemn us all to die? To leave our families with nothing?” he cried.
“You condemn yourself! By entering into the mouth of the World Tree, you are declaring a war against my temple.”
“I demand to speak to the High Priestess!” he shouted.
And most curiously, I watched as Jineve raised her hands. Small yellow wisps of magic seeped out of her fingers as she moved them to trace arcane sigils in the air. “Oh, but I am the High Priestess. Don’t you see?”
The yellow wisps trailed around his head, entering into his ears. He shook his head vigorously for a moment and then rubbed his eyes. “Oh, oh, yes. Forgive me, your Grace. Well…tell this World Tree that it must keep its goblins inside. If they steal from us again, we will return, resurrection or no. Understood?”
“It was an error on our part, we apologize,” Jineve said as she bowed to him. The Constable turned to his companions and barked orders. They were quick to pack up and leave.
“Hah!” Jineve cried as she turned to face me. “Did you see that? They never let me use those spells while in the Church.”
“What spell was that?” I asked.
“A spell of suggestion. It doesn’t take control of the mind; it just helps the person believe what you are saying. I prepared it just in case.”
I wanted to chide her for not delivering my words. But it would most likely be pointless. She was bold, brash and energetic. The quiet and contemplative religious order of Agara was clearly not a place for her. With such magical talents, I wondered if it would be rewarding to allow her access to Urioc’s study. It wasn’t stealing, because she would only be reading his library. And it would be most beneficial to have a powerful sorcerer living so close to the Staff. It would be quite the surprise for any adventuring party to have to encounter a live spellcaster.
Instead of lecturing, I thanked her and showed her to her new Quarters. She was free to live within me, to study the necromancer’s books and do as she pleased. In return, she would represent me when humans arrived to negotiate or threaten me en masse. She was quite happy with the arrangement, as was I. But alas, what I did not know was that I had made someone very, very unhappy. And that someone would arrive in the evening that night.
As I rested in the late evening, watching the inner workings of my dungeon with great interest, I noticed that the sky was beginning to change. The moon seemed to shine even brighter and with an intensity that suggested a great magic hovered near me. And in a flash, there arrived a woman, almost the size of me. She wore a golden crown and glowed like the sun itself. Her body was adorned with thousands of thorns, shaped like body armor, yet the barbs plunged deeply into her flesh. The wounds were bright red and blood flowed eternally down her body.
The energy she radiated was overwhelming; I could barely stand to look at her. My branches felt as if they were being pinned back and even my access to magic had severely diminished. At once, I knew this powerful being was a goddess, specifically, Agara.
“And so it is true,” she said, her voice echoing through the entire forest. Birds flew out of their nests and into the sky with every syllable that she spoke. “A divine presence has stolen one of my children from me.”
I said nothing.
“Speak!” she demanded. The words seemed to move into my body and force me to say what I had been thinking to her.
“I am the World Tree,” I said. “I have stolen only cattle from mortals, that should be of no concern of yours.”
“Cattle?” Agara laughed. “I speak of an acolyte, a follower of mine who resides in the very church you watch over.”
“Jineve?”
“She made a sacred oath, but you! You tempted her and stole her from me. She was a follower of mine, but now her heart is devoted to you! Did you think that a goddess would not notice your blatant theft? If you seek divinity, build your own following. Do not take from others.”
Seek divinity? What a curious concept. But I got the impression that Agara was not in the mood for me asking questions. She was accusing me of a very grave crime, stealing from a goddess. But I had done nothing other than give a woman bound by circumstances a chance to be freed from them.
“Jineve made her own choice. I merely presented her with the opportunity for an alternative life,” I told Agara. “People are not property, are they?”
“She made an oath to me, to swear and to serve. You corrupted her. And worse, you house her within you, shielding her from her sisters who no doubt would like to bring her back. The leader of the Temple here informed me of such a deal she made with you. A peace treaty that prevents any of us from doing you great harm. Count yourself fortunate that she made such a deal, or else I would uproot you and shake you until you dropped her.”
“You seem most cruel for a goddess of healing. Have you no mercy?”
Agara scowled at me, her gaze growing even more intense. “Mercy? I am the Goddess of the Bitter and the Broken. I show nothing but mercy to these mortals. But I have no kindness for an oathbreaker.”
“Then place a curse upon her and be done,” I said. “Pay her an unkindness for her unkindness, and loose her. She shall not leave this place if she realizes that you mean to take her back into your fold.”
Agara tilted her head in confusion. “You would allow that? For my magic to hurt her?”
“An oath should be honored, yes. But for an oath to hold any power, there must be consequence for breaking one as such.”
“Do not lecture me on consequences. But as a goddess of mercy, I cannot simply punish people for breaking my oath.”
“Then your oaths are meaningless. Leave us be.”
Agara chuckled a little. “You have no idea who I am? I am one of the Five Greater Gods, who watch over this world. All of your power could be contained in my right fingernail,” she raised her hand to show me a grotesque and bruised finger, purple from years of brutality against it.
“I do not particularly care,” I replied. “I am divine in my own right. And someday, I shall tower over this entire world.”
“You should hope not,” Agara said. “For such a power has much responsibility. I would not wish this upon anyone. I shall spare your new follower, for I am merciful. But I will utter this warning to you, World Tree. You are a stranger to these lands. You may radiate a divine energy, but you are not divine. If you try to find followers and ascend to divinity, other, less merciful gods will arrive. And when they do, they will tear you from the ground, roots and all.”
And with that, she was gone. The light faded, the divine suppression of my power vanished and my magic began to circulate through my body again. Something told me that she wasn’t here on the account of a wayward follower. No. She wanted to see me in person, to learn who or what I was. And I could not tell if her message was a friendly warning or a threat. Only time would tell, I suppose.
Chapter 10
Immix finally returned on a cold afternoon. Winter was beginning to settle in once again, and the goblins were happy to see their cheery companion come back. A feast, containing actual meat, was prepared and all were invited, even the new resident Jineve. Immix told many a bawdy and insincere tale, about how he had lied to humans, drunk their best alcohols and stolen their favorite heirlooms. He traveled most of Yehan and spread the word far and wide about the treasure contained within me. All that was left now was to wait.
But Immix was confident about the adventurers arriving soon. Winter was generally when the adventurers began to strike out in the world. There was something about the cold air and the silence o
f the natural world that brought about a wanderlust in them. More would come and they would be greatly motivated to get a hold of my mystic relic. I had to get prepared.
The Charm of Recollection had been placed at the end of the westmost part of the dungeon. Consequently, this made the Charm as far as possible from the Necromancer’s Staff. I didn’t need adventurers stumbling across that Staff while searching for something entirely different. The adventuring party would need to pass through three sequential rooms in order to gain access to the charm, resting atop a pedestal. The first room was most vicious, full of pit traps that had vines within them. When triggered, these vines would reach out of the pit, grasping at legs and pulling them down into the Troll Pits—where the fierce beasts were awaiting them.
The second room, I decided to focus on a different aspect of danger. Rather than hide the menace, I simply put it in plain sight. There was a tall statue, made of what they would believe to be gold, with gems for eyes. In truth, this was a simple illusion spell, covering the fact that the statue was covered in thorns as strong as diamond. Coated on the end of those thorns was a deadly and cruel poison, one that would cause madness within an hour. There were no other challenges in that room, other than a hard to pass lock. My hope was that those afflicted with madness would begin to show symptoms while they were in the third and final room.
Upon entering the last room before the treasure vault, the door would seal up behind them entirely. A vine overgrowth would protect the door from being shattered. The only way to escape would be to find the hidden passage before the air was pulled out of the room by a powerful oxygen draining spell. Of course, finding the hidden passage would be hard when one’s comrades suddenly went insane.
Those who found the hidden pathway would be rewarded with a route to the Charm. I also placed a few chests full of magical items looted from dead heroes in the past. They should be rewarded for their cunning. And besides, they’d need more help for the long and equally painful journey out of the dungeon. For the exit door would lead them to an entirely new section of the dungeon. It would be a one-way path back to where they originally started, inaccessible for those who were just arriving.
I was nervous about how everything would work out. My first few attempts at defending myself had not gone as planned and I had no illusions this time. I knew that adventurers were unpredictable and difficult to understand. At some point, they would break the rules of my dungeon, bypass a crucial trap, or in some way surprise me. But the stakes were lower too. The worst case scenario would be one party would get their hands on the charm and then leave. I had entirely hidden the pathway leading to the necromancer’s rooms, so unless they were specifically looking for it, they would never find the passage.
I decided that it would be a weakness to actively interfere with the dungeon while the adventurers were traveling through me. Sure, my power was great enough to where I could easily just summon rocks to fall on them, or to pump a poisonous gas into their room, but all I would be doing was covering up my own failures and wasting my magic. My designs needed to be flawless, efficient and powerful. If I could not pull it off without the use of active interference, then it meant that I had failed to prepare. I would not punish adventurers further for my own mistakes.
The first party arrived a week after Immix’s return. They were instantly identifiable as adventurers, for they wore many layers of clothing and had dozens of bracelets and bangles around their arms. Three total, two women and one man, all dressed identically in red robes. Spellcasters for sure, although I only saw spell books on the hips of the women. The man may have been a sorcerer, someone whose magic came from natural talent.
Unlike the other adventurers I had met, these people did not speak much. At most, one would speak a curt phrase and the other two would nod in agreement. But I could sense their magical prowess. These were learned adventurers who were seeking the Charm of Recollection. I watched with curiosity to see how my traps would hold up.
They wandered for some time, navigating through my winding halls, checking various empty rooms that had yet to be filled with traps or treasure. I was still low on magic, especially after the last blitz of creating the Charm section, so I had not enough of the resources necessary to build up the rest of the dungeon yet.
Eventually, they found their way to the first room. It was of little problem for them as one had cast a spell allowing them to sense life, identifying the trolls in the pit. The others had spells of flight that allowed the party to hover out of the whipping vines’ reach. I was dismayed by this blatant avoidance of the traps at hand, but unfortunately there was little that could be done.
Yet, while they were smart enough to use spells to search for monsters, they had no protection against illusions. As predicted, they were quick to approach the Statue of False Gold. Two pricked their fingers, only for a second. But a second was all it would take. The poison was now coursing through their veins.
The lock also provided great trouble for them. As skilled as they were with magic, it would appear that they still missed spells for bypassing locks. Instead, they opted to use powerful blasting spells, but I had properly prepared for that. The anti-force wards were carved on the other side of the door, ensuring that no amount of damage would be able to shatter the door. The only alternative to getting the door open would be finding the key. A key hidden in the mouth of that prickly statue. The third, unpoisoned one, opted to go in, casting a spell of protection around her hands to shield them.
They were too slow though. By the time they had finally opened up the door leading to the final trial, one had begun to experience a few mild symptoms of the madness. He was babbling rapidly, talking to figures that weren’t there. The others ignored him at first, as the door behind had sealed shut. The air was beginning to leave thanks to a vortex spell. One tried to cast a counterspell, to stop the vortex from draining all oxygen. But as she started enunciating the words, she instead began to laugh and laugh and laugh.
The symptoms grew worse and they soon went wild. The air was vanishing quickly and the only sane woman was forced to make a decision. Should she abandon her companions and seek a way to escape, or try to cure them? She opted for a cure, raising her hands to cast a powerful spell of curse breaking. For she had not realized yet that they were suffering from a poison. The mistake would cost her everything.
The man grew violent as he perceived that her spell was an attack on him. He replied with his own incantation, and before long the third one joined in the fight, casting all of her magic in a flurry. By the time the dust settled, all three were dead. Their essences quickly floated through the air and I was greedy to drink all of them, to absorb their knowledge.
The third woman! She was a summoner, a specialist who knew how to bring forth creatures for combat. Just the essence that I was hoping for. Summoning, of course, was a more popular field of magic, so this was bound to happen. My excitement was that I would not have to wait to finally create monsters of my own.
As I soaked up the magic, gaining even more spells and abilities, I watched the activity at the temple. Within the hour of their deaths, the trio had resurrected. Their souls had opted to return to the land of the living instead of simply moving on to the afterlife. Why anyone would refuse to enter a place of eternal rest was beyond me, but then again, why anyone would even want to crawl around in a dungeon and face such horrors was also a mystery.
They would return, much wiser this time. My goblins were swift to reset the traps, collect the left-over loot and dispose of the corpses. The spellcasting trio had little trouble navigating the challenges again, but were careful to avoid the poison this time around. They would leave the dungeon three days later, happy to have claimed the trinket—albeit at a great loss. It would seem that the element of surprise was the biggest strength that I possessed. Once an adventurer was familiar with my traps, they would be able to overcome them quickly. The majority of time the three had spent was in search for their missing items.
But the goblin village was too well hidden for them to find. Eventually they came to the conclusion that their gear was gone and that they were fortunate enough to have such a powerful artifact in their hands.
Ultimately, their adventure was a net loss. Sure, they had gained one mighty charm, but I had all of their other magical items and weapons. I could even give their spell books to Jineve, who studied her magic day and night. The goblins would be happy to have access to magical objects that would aid them in their work. Some would even take the weapons to protect the village, should it ever be discovered.
All in all, I would say that this was my first serious attempt at defending myself, and it was a smashing success. Let’s hope that all other adventures would end up the same way.
Chapter 11
Three adventuring parties had arrived over the course of the next four months. And all three parties had succeeded in claiming my Charm of Recollection. But the cost was fairly great to them. Many lost gear and their lives. I grew in power, but held off on creating any monsters just yet. I had plans in my mind, but I wanted enough magic in my reserves to make some truly terrifying creatures, beasts that would no doubt strike terror in the hearts of any mortal who dared to enter my dungeon. Then, those who chose to fight the beast would be worthy of the highest honor. And those that fell would grant me even more power.
Over time, I found that my feelings towards these adventurers grew more complicated. I had lost any sense of sorrow at their deaths, especially after watching the same greedy gnome try to bypass the dungeon by himself seventeen times before giving up. Each time he had died in some new way, but he never gave up. Others were the same. They seemed to have no regard towards death, especially when they could return to life so quickly. But the resurrection process did take a toll on them, I learned. They would grow weaker, less skilled with each return to life. Eventually the gnome did give up and move on to the afterlife. That was a good decision on his part, for he had spent too much of his energy chasing after something he was incapable of getting.
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