But while my sorrow at the prospects of killing them vanished, my respect for them grew deeper and deeper. They were, above all, hearty and brave. When one of them was injured, the rest would band together to pick up the slack. Some would boldly go first when encountering a new trap. Others would even throw themselves in the way of the trolls, protecting the smaller or weaker members of the party. They were worthy of praise for their efforts. And each challenge that I threw at them only made them stronger.
In a way, it was a grand competition, to see who was worthy of the treasures that I provided. And how I enjoyed watching them fight, solve puzzles and work together. As long as they did not find the Staff of Urioc, everything else was up for grabs. I would continue to observe their actions and expand myself, to provide greater and greater trials. I got such enjoyment out of both challenging them and seeing them succeed. Adventurers, it seemed, were just as an important part of my ecosystem as anything else in me. And so, I would reward them for their victories and punish them for their failures. After all, that was why they came to me. To find treasure and glory. I would provide them with both.
As I sat, dreaming and contemplating my next steps, another adventurer arrived. Or so I thought, at first glance. But after a moment of looking at him, I realized that it was Urioc. The necromancer had returned! I was surprised to see him. He had not visited once since he had left me in charge of his Staff, and now—eight years later—he was back.
But what was most curious about Urioc was the fact that he had not seemed to age a day since I had last seen him. Other mortals aged; their bodies would change, their faces would become wrinkled and weathered. But he was preserved. Even his hair was the exact same. I could also perceive the aura of magic around him, the source of his youth, perhaps? Necromancers were skilled in bringing back the dead without any help from the gods; perhaps he had found a way to live longer.
I was happy to see him, of course. It might seem a bit silly, especially when you consider the differences between us, but I was hoping he’d be impressed with what I had achieved. In some way, Urioc was like a mentor to me. He had given me those seeds of magic and taught me that there was a better way to find magic. I was a stranger to these lands and he had been all too willing to share secrets that led me to become the powerful being that I was now. Make no mistake, I still had much to gain in terms of power, and soon I would outclass Urioc, but for now, I was still in awe of his presence.
“I return,” Urioc grumbled as he approached my mouth. “I should hope that my Staff is still here.”
“It is, Lord Urioc,” I replied. “And I must urge you caution as you enter. For when you left, this dungeon was small and weak. Now it is a lethal place, where many an adventurer has died.”
“Very good,” Urioc said as he came inside and inspected the long hallways leading in three directions. “Definitely a step up from those two pathetic doors you built. Take me to my study. There are things I must check.”
“Of course,” I said, directing him through the winding twists, leading him all the way to the study, where Jineve was waiting for us. I had wanted to show the necromancer the guardian of his library.
“This woman is Jineve, a powerful sorcerer. She has been recruited to guard and protect your collection from others,” I told him. Jineve’s magic had grown significantly stronger since she had left the order. While she had been abysmal at healing magic, she excelled at any type of destructive magic. One time, an adventurer had broken off from his team and somehow managed to slip into the study, perhaps with a teleportation spell gone wrong. Jineve made sure that he was promptly removed from the dungeon.
Urioc scowled at Jineve. “Sorcerer? Weak magic. Feh, leave me to my peace, I have much to do.”
Jineve went to open her mouth, to argue with him, but I quickly told her to do as he said. Urioc was my partner and was not to be treated poorly.
“Are you still watching me, World Tree?” Urioc asked as he entered his study and began to search through books in his library.
“Yes, of course. I see everything,” I replied.
“Leave me be, speak to me no more. I did not come here to chat,” Urioc said as he mumbled a few words. A sphere of black energy enveloped him, blocking me from observing what was going on inside of the room. Odd. But then again, it was his own private study. His business was his own; I had no reason to pry.
I had hoped that Urioc would have stayed longer, to become acquainted with Ehdrid and the other goblins, but he chose to leave early in the morning. I asked him to meet my companions, but he told me that he was uninterested in meeting any goblin filth. I spoke no more to him, realizing that he had only been so talkative the first time we had met because he wanted something from me. Now that he had what he wanted, I was of no interest to him. A shame, because I had genuinely wanted to hear of his journey. No doubt he had seen many interesting places.
Several hours after Urioc left, I was approached by Ehdrid. He entered into the small shrine, where he would commune with spirits and prepare his magic for the day. That was the place where we agreed to speak to one another, in times of need and crisis. Otherwise, I would merely communicate my orders to him during his morning walks.
“Great Tree,” Ehdrid said, “I fear that I must bring something to your attention.”
“What is it?”
“There are a host of spirits who have come into this place, crying out and whispering a great many secret. Spirits of those who were once alive, but through twisted magics, have been sealed away.”
That sounded like the work of the necromancer. “What business is it of ours?” I asked.
Ehdrid shifted. “I have served you loyally, have I not?”
“You have.”
“And I have done all that you ask and more, have I not?”
“Yes, you have done very well. I have come to greatly appreciate you, Ehdrid,” I told him.
“Then I must ask that you allow me to see the Necromancer’s Staff. When I first arrived, I felt a terrible presence, something truly dangerous, lurking behind the door that you forbid us to enter. I allowed it to slip by me, for who was I to challenge the tree who had given us a home and a hearth? But these new spirits all confirm my fears. Something is terribly wrong with the Staff.”
“I am in appreciation of your worries and fears, Great Shaman,” I replied. “But you must know that what the necromancer does is his own business. He and I have a pact, an agreement that was arranged so long ago. I must honor it.”
“You do not understand, my master, I fear that the Staff is a danger to you,” Ehdrid replied. He waved his hand, conjuring a wispy phantasm. It was a ghost made of shadows, moving around the well lit room as if searching for something. “I have encountered many of these wandering about. At first, I would only see them every now and then, but since Urioc’s visit, there have been many more. Something is happening. You must trust me.”
I listened to the words of my companion. Ehdrid was afraid, I could hear it in his voice. But the little wisp was nothing more than a shadow, a spirit that was unable or unwilling to move into the afterlife. They were common in the world. But, I also pondered Urioc’s desire for privacy. The way he had shielded himself from my sight. Was something untoward happening here?
“What will you do?” I asked him.
“I just need to see the Staff. My gifts will allow me to inspect it, to understand what its purpose is,” Ehdrid said. “Would you give me that honor?”
At this point, I realized that it was time for Ehdrid to learn my secret. The goblins had already settled in to the point where they would never leave me. In fact, some were already starting families and bringing in a new generation to the world. They had served me loyally, and if Ehdrid was to see the Staff, he would have to learn my greatest secret.
It was time.
Chapter 12
I sent Jineve out on some errands, so that she would not be within the dungeon while I showed Ehdrid the Staff.
I did not trust her nearly to the same degree that I trusted the shaman. She was unpredictable and mouthy, with a rebellious spirit. Ehdrid was a wizened spiritual leader who always thought before he spoke.
The goblin was standing before the hidden entrance leading to the Staff. His blindfold was off, allowing him full vision of the spirit world.
“This secret must die with you,” I told him. “Not even the next Shaman to replace you shall know of this.”
“I shall pluck my own tongue, if you so desire,” Ehdrid replied.
“No, your devotion is enough,” I said. And with that, I unsealed the passageway, revealing the small corridor leading to the Staff. What no one knew was that the Staff of Urioc was placed closest to my heart. To my core.
Ehdrid gasped as he laid his eyes on the Staff, floating next to the gigantic, throbbing green mass in the center of the room.
“This is my core. It is the central organ that contains all magic. My roots collect magic in the world and deliver it here.”
“And this is you, isn’t it?” Ehdrid asked as he approached and gently placed a hand on the pulsing mass. It flickered with green energy as I continued to draw in more magic.
“In mortal anatomy terms, this would be like my brain. The tree is my body, but this here is what contains all power, all life.”
“I understand why you would wish to protect this secret,” Ehdrid replied. “And I am honored that you find me worthy of knowing. If my village is to survive, then I must keep this secret as well. No one shall know, save the three of us.”
“Three?” I asked.
“Urioc, of course,” Ehdrid said. “He knows.”
“I have not seen fit to share this with him,” I replied. At those words, Ehdrid grew silent and his face became grim.
“I fear you have underestimated the necromancer then,” Ehdrid said. “For there is a great host of spirits trapped within the staff. The gems in the eyes of the skull atop the staff. They carry spirits who whisper terrible secrets. They tell me that the necromancer came to speak to them. He called them forth and they reported all they knew and...” He ceased speaking and his eyes grew wide. He leaned his head down, closer to the Staff as if that would help him hear better.
“It is as I suspected. This Staff radiates an energy, a power that is meant to corrupt. These shadows that I have seen wandering around, have been finding the areas where you draw power. They allow themselves to be siphoned.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why?”
“Because Urioc wishes to corrupt your core with his dark magics,” Ehdrid said as he grabbed hold of the Staff. “Forgive me!” he cried as he smashed it on the ground as hard as he could. The skull shattered and the Staff snapped in half, releasing a torrent of wailing spirits. Ehdrid raised his hands and chanted words, forcing the spirits to cease their crying out.
There were twenty in total, all with shapes of humanoid beings. Their features were long gone, only blank faces with mouths remained. Some were shaped like orc or goblin, others human or elven. I remained silent. I knew not how to deal with spirits, unlike Ehdrid.
“Release us! Release us we beg!” the spirits all wailed. “The Eternal Forest calls for us! Please, please!”
“I shall release you, but you must answer me!” Ehdrid demanded. He was standing tall and defiant, holding his own gnarled staff in the air. I had not seen him this strong and confident before. “What has Urioc done to the World Tree?”
“Corruption,” one whispered. “Poison,” whispered another. And in unison, they all cried, “he has planted a seed, a seed most foul. When the seed blooms, the World Tree will die. But another shall grow, a spirit created by the necromancer to inhabit the body and the heart. It shall obey only Urioc; it shall grant him dominion over the divine energy.”
Ehdrid shook his head with rage. “How? How can we reverse it?”
“Great Shaman,” one with the voice of a gnome pleaded, “we have no answers. All we speak is what we have witnessed. Our life forces were trapped and forced to radiate corruption wherever the staff was. We did not choose this. Let us go.”
“I call then upon the gods to claim these spirits for their own and call to the psychopomps to usher them to their rest. Begone from this realm! Begone and never return!” Ehdrid shouted, shaking his staff at them.
In a flash, the spirits had vanished.
There was a long silence between us once we were alone. I did not know what to say. I had been such a fool to believe that the necromancer had merely wanted someone to protect his Staff. How could I have possibly been so naive? But then again, I was not accustomed to this world, or their magics. I was a stranger from a faraway place. How could I possibly know that magic could corrupt and infest my own core?
“We must begin to seek a cure at once,” Ehdrid said. “My knowledge about arcane magic is limited. I deal with spirits and powers that be, not the element forces that exist in this world. Time is of the essence. If the necromancer means to corrupt your core, we need to act quickly.”
I said nothing. I merely sat in silence, stewing in my own failures. Was there even a chance of reversing this? I had been holding the Staff close to my heart for over eight years now. That was a long time for mortal magic to work.
“I sense your pain,” Ehdrid said. “I understand how you feel. Betrayal is never easy to handle. When our village, back in the forest, was first approached by the humans, they asked if we were interested in trade. We allowed them past our gates, welcoming them with hospitality. It ended in a massacre as soon as they saw our mines were fat with gold. You will always hate yourself for the choices you made in the past. But the only choice you truly made was to trust someone. No matter what we do, we cannot control how others hurt us. But we can move on. We can fix the damage done.”
“And if it’s too late?”
“Then I shall kill you. Burn you to the ground,” Ehdrid said. “The necromancer will not have your twisted corpse as a puppet.”
“You are a wise and compassionate goblin,” I said. “And a good friend. We must hurry. I did not come this far to be devoured from the inside out.”
Chapter 13
My predicament was at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t really afford to spend any more time working on my dungeon until I was able to find a cure for this corruption. I had a few options and I would have to explore as many of them as possible.
The first option was to ask Jineve if there were any books that would assist in understanding this poison flowing through my roots. The necromancer owned an extensive collection and she had read a great deal of them while studying and practicing her magical talents. She agreed to search, but stated that things would go faster if she had more capable individuals with her, as Urioc had thousands of books. The goblins would have been of no help here, because they simply could not read.
Instead, she would have to travel to the human city of Oregmyer and find a few apprentices who were willing to assist her in exchange for magical training. Wizard’s apprentices, she assured me, were plentiful, as there were many people who wanted to learn magic in Yehan, but few who were willing to teach it. I agreed to the plan, provided that the apprentices would be kept in the dark as to the nature of the curse affecting me. As far as they knew, the tasks she was to give them were purely theoretical. I did not want the world to know of my sickness.
The second choice was to craft a cure spell myself. I knew plenty of spells of healing natures, but I lacked the ingredients to cast them. Ehdrid put together a team of foragers to go out into the world and search for these rare components, but it would take time. Even if we did get our hands on these ingredients, would healing magic even work? I had to try, but my hopes were not high.
The last choice was to seek divine aid. I thought back to my brief and hostile encounter with Agara. She was a goddess of healing, was she not? Her divine power was greater than me, for certain. But how would I possibly be able to entreat her for help? Sh
e had not been happy with my actions and, as such, would most likely be unwilling to aid.
But I still had to try. The awareness of the corruption within me also brought to light why my roots were struggling to breach deeper into the ground. At first, I had thought there was some resistance, perhaps a magic charm or a thick layer of earth, but now I realize that I was simply too weak to continue growing downward. Was this the work of the necromancer, or an unintended side effect of the infection? Time was growing short. This much I knew. For a creature that looks at decades the way a mortal looks at days, the sudden need to be present was overwhelming. Each second that passed was of the utmost importance. And so, I prayed.
I prayed that Agara would show herself. I tried with all of my might to call upon her, yet there was no answer. I asked Jineve why Agara had not responded, a question that brought great laughter to her. Why would a goddess ever answer a lesser being’s prayer? She asked me. Why would Agara care for someone who wasn’t part of her fold and her hierarchy? The gods gave power to their clerics to intercede in the world on their behalf, and made their wills known to those clerics. Those outside of the faith would have little chance of calling a Great Divine to aid them. And the local priesthood had been instructed to have no more dealings with me, so there was no chance they would intercede on my behalf.
But my discussion about religion did prompt an idea from Jineve. One of her students, a short and wiry boy, had been studying a book written by a High Priest of Gannix. Gannix was this world’s god of pestilence, plague and corruption. He was also a Lesser Divine, a being of great power compared to mortals, but utterly weak in the eyes of the Five Great Divines. These Lesser Gods were numerous, responsible for a few domains, but were far more approachable. They had a greater need for followers and as such, would be quick to manifest, should there be some reward for their services. Still, gods were unpredictable. It was uncertain whether he would arrive at all.
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