The Right to Choose

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “I call on Tekhosh, Tiamat, and Vitar to witness that Ort Ashen will keep his word given to me, Hagen,” I said slowly. “He will give me a complete and truthful answer to my question.”

  Even in the cave, I could hear the boom in the sky. A gust of wind whipped around my legs.

  “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” the old man barked indignantly. “Why would I lie to you?”

  “Of course,” I replied with a crooked smile. “That’s why you’ve had me running around the four corners of Fayroll, making sure I’m warm and fed the whole time. Plus, the gods are off in the Great Nothingness, so I don’t see any reason for you to be nervous.”

  “I get it, you can’t see past your own nose.” Ort flicked my forehead. “Hey, Hagen, are you in there? Don’t wake a sleeping giant. Anyway, whatever, what did you want to know? Who’s been rooting around in you? Go ahead and count on your fingers.”

  My ears perked up. It was a critical moment for me.

  “I see Tiamat’s mark,” Ort said with a yawn. “One of her servants is still keeping an eye on you. Lilith’s mark is the most recent. She didn’t mark you herself, but still. Okay… Mesmerta, Vitar, Akker.”

  “Who?” The last name was unfamiliar, and I had to ask.

  “Akker.” Ort snapped his fingers and whispered something. “He isn’t exactly a god, though he’s far from a follower. He once served Tekhosh, served him well, even, but then he disappeared.”

  “What’s his specialty?” I had a sneaking suspicion I knew who he was talking about.

  “Nastiness,” Ort replied, picking a cup up off the table and slurping noisily from it. “First, he had something going on with the dead. Then, he was the keeper of the Sunset Gate… I don’t remember the details. He was always small fry, something like me. They always took us for furniture or pets. Never took us seriously.”

  Interesting. Somebody was trying to screw with me. I’ll remember that.

  “Well, who else?”

  “Is that your second question?” the sly dog asked quickly.

  “No, still the first.”

  Ort sighed. “Fine. Tekhosh is there, too. It’s weird, he and Lilith could never stand each other, but there they are, one right next to the other. Fun!”

  “They had a great relationship. Come on, out with it!”

  “That’s almost it.” Ort scratched behind his ear. “A couple dead wizards, but that’s more decay than marks. Mmm… I don’t know that one. It isn’t divine, though there are a lot of gods who don’t even have that kind of power. Wow…”

  The old man grabbed my arm, closed his eyes slightly, shook his head in confusion, snapped his fingers, spat three times over his shoulder, and stared at me suspiciously.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “Who did you get involved with, moron?” Ort asked me kind of amiably. “Why did you talk with that madman? It’s dangerous just to be near him!”

  “That’s my business.” Ort was the last person I wanted to discuss that with, especially since I was probably on live TV right then. As it was, I was having a hard time not putting my finger to my ear. Tracey?

  “Idiot,” the hermit said with a finger pointed in my direction. “You’re a run-of-the-mill, everyday idiot. Remember that. But, whatever, it’s on your own head. What else do we have? You met Hel, though you have more a sign that you’re her enemy than her mark. I think that’s about it. Oh, no, there’s Kolding’s mark, the old galosh. Where’d you come across her?”

  “I don’t even know who that is!”

  “Kolding, Gedran, Gudrun, Agnes, Merga… Do any of those names ring a bell?”

  “Sure. The witch?”

  “Witch?” the hermit grunted. “Sure, I guess so. She’s a nasty creature, although, on the other hand, an excellent example of why you should never bite off more than you can chew.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly that.” He went back to his cup. “That little fool tried to figure out what the Demiurges were doing back when all this happened.”

  The old man swept a hand up toward the roof of the cave. I understood what he was trying to say.

  “And?”

  “And?” Ort giggled. “The Demiurges noticed her and rewarded her for her curiosity. They gave her eternal life so she could find out everything there was to know, though, in exchange, they robbed her of her youth and health. Her eternal life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Now, she wanders Rattermark doing her best to make everyone’s life miserable. Time has only made her worse, and she was never that nice of a person, to begin with.”

  “Well, yes,” I nodded, “she’s a nasty old woman. No matter how many times you kill her, she always comes back.”

  “That depends on what you kill her with,” the hermit said with a sly twinkle in his eye. “Sure, you can’t kill her with a mortal’s weapon or anything the Departed Gods have—they don’t work against the curse Kolding has on her. But the Demiurges’ blade—that would do the trick.”

  I perked up. “Is there really such a thing? That’s got to be a mega weapon!”

  “What did you say?” Ort shook his head. “I don’t know that word. All I’ll say is that one of their weapons is capable of more than even I know. It would put the old girl away for good, that’s for sure, and stronger characters, too. On the other hand, it looks like a normal weapon when it’s being used against simple mortals and most of the undead—a good weapon, but a normal weapon. The Demiurges, they like their jokes, their… What is it? Oh, right, ‘balance’.”

  “Is it really here in Fayroll?”

  “Sure,” Ort replied as if by the by. “Right here in Rattermark.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “Is that your second question? Are you sure?”

  “Wait a second. Yes, that’s my second question, but I want to ask it differently. Do you know where the Demiurges’ sword is located?”

  “Blade,” Ort replied. “I don’t know, sorry. You can’t complain, either, because I really don’t know where it is right now, though I do know what you’re talking about. Okay, let’s hear your third question.”

  Nice job. He’d led me out onto an interesting topic and hung me high and dry, though that was okay. Even knowing about something like that was valuable. We weren’t done, either.

  “No, no, hold on a second,” I laughed. “We aren’t just talking about its whereabouts; that includes what you’ve heard, tall tales, and legends. I want all the information you know.”

  “Aren’t you thorough?” Ort grimaced. “Fine, listen. I don’t know if this is true or not, but about five thousand years ago, I heard Vitar and Baadb talking (those two were always going on about something).”

  “Is Baadb a goddess?”

  “Yes, a crazy girl,” Ort shot back with a contemptuous wave of his enormous hand. “She was always going on about how elf and dwarf girls are equal to human women, with the right to fight and participate in other things, too. What did she say? ‘Take any elf girl, and she could rule a kingdom if she wanted to.’ Or something like that.”

  “So, a feminist?”

  “I don’t know that word, either. Where do you find all of them?” Ort tugged on his beard. “If you ask me, I’m not sure what an elf girl would want with a kingdom. What would she do with it? They don’t even like cities; they prefer the forest. But, whatever, that’s not important. Anyway, they’d had something to drink, and Vitar told Baadb about three cities hidden deep in the mountain depths: Urtau, Nevon, and Dagos. Once, long, long ago, they were the three strongholds that stood against the Dark, consecrated by the hands of the Demiurges, but then something happened. They, the Demiurges, cursed the cities and dropped them into the belly of the earth. Before they did that, however, they stuck a crypt in each one, and secured a single object in each crypt. That broken blade is in one, another houses an anvil, and the third is home to a hammer. Whoever finds and takes those three items will have the blade of the Demiurges.”

  I should have g
otten a quest or something like that, though I didn’t. I wasn’t sure why not—maybe, the old man wasn’t the quest starter; maybe, it was beyond my capabilities; or, maybe, it was only supposed to be completed once. If that latter option was the case, I had a feeling I knew who’d gotten it.

  “Why is it broken?” I asked. “Seriously, you can’t spit around here without hitting a broken sword. Is that just the thing to do in Fayroll now? Break swords in half?”

  “That’s just their fate,” Ort said as he wiggled his nose. “One king, I remember, stuck his sword into a stone because he didn’t believe he was the father of his wife’s children. ‘If they can pull this sword out of the stone,’ he said, ‘they’re my true offspring.’”

  “And what happened?”

  “It’s been two thousand years, and that sword is still in the stone. The stone is in the kingdom of Northumbria, which has been underwater for centuries. Back when the mages were doing battle with the regiments of orcs during the First War of Hatred, something cracked, and the whole thing disappeared. Now, the fish and octopuses are trying to pull it out; people can’t live down there unless some mage up and gave a human gills, of course. But I doubt that…”

  “Screw it—both the kingdom and the sword in the stone.” Ort was in his element, having forgotten about the key altogether. I needed to get the conversation back on the rails. “That’s not what happened to the Demiurges’ blade, is it?”

  “Well, first, Vitar said the Demiurges wanted to leave it whole in Fayroll. One of them was worried that someone might beat it into a plowshare, though, so they made sure whoever found it would know exactly what was in their hands. So, they broke the blade.”

  “That does kind of make sense.” The locals were well away from the civilized world, something I was very glad about. Civilization brings more than benefits—there are also the GMOs, the human rights advocates, the democratic elections that don’t differ much from the previous item, the annoying ads, and the medical TV shows. I preferred the wilds of Fayroll. “What else did they say?”

  “Well, there was a lot. They talked about how the road to the cities was forbidden for the gods; how some heroes Vitar sent in never came back; how the crypts were guarded like you wouldn’t believe; how the sword was the type of thing you could use to take the heavenly throne and not just an earthly one; and how there was some kind of curse…and a bunch of other things.”

  “Got it,” I replied, rubbing my hands together. “So, cities…”

  “Yep. I don’t know where they are, though. They’re very well hidden, which, of course, makes sense. This is the Demiurges we’re talking about. So, we’re done with the second question?”

  “We are,” I nodded. “And now, the third.”

  “Why don’t we just put the key together?” Ort was practically jumping in place.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Sorry, old man, but I don’t trust you farther than I can throw you. Here we go. When I break the five seals, will I be able to summon just one goddess or god? Or will I be able to bring a bunch back?”

  “Several,” Ort replied with a grimace. “In that case, though, there will be a bunch of extra conditions for you as you look for the seals. Everything should be written out in the scroll, so you’ll see it for yourself. You sly dog—you want to pit the gods against each other when they come back from the Great Nothingness so you can get away. Smart.”

  “That, too. There are a few reasons.”

  “I thought you were going to ask how to kill the gods.”

  “What would the point of that have been? If I’d asked, you would’ve just said that you don’t know, or maybe had me go back for that sword. Right?”

  I’d been thinking about that option. The other possibility had been to ask what was in the chest. Neither of those questions seemed like they would get me anywhere since I wasn’t planning on killing any of the gods, and the chest… Better not to know what you could have gotten. Otherwise, you’d just end up tearing your hair out. Information was my bread and butter, but some information only gets you in trouble. Sometimes, you want to kill yourself when you find something out.

  I had one friend who constantly asked his wife if she was cheating on him. He might not have trusted her, or he might have just liked hearing her say she wasn’t, but it got to her in the end. She got so tired of it she slept with a colleague of his and let him have it the next time he asked—complete with audiovisual aids. Where did that get him? Did finding out make him feel any better? No. The less you know, the better you sleep, sometimes.

  “I’m not telling you,” Ort chuckled. “Now, you can keep that turning over in your head—that’s my revenge. Okay, give me the third part of the key.”

  “Here you go.” I held it out to him.

  You learned Dusty Eyes, an active ability.

  The old man grabbed the glistening, golden piece of the key, sniffed, pulled the box with the other two parts out of the rags he was wearing, turned away from me, and got to work.

  A whistle told me the key to the chest with the scrolls had been restored.

  You unlocked Truth Under a Lid.

  This is the third in The Gods Return to Fayroll series of quests.

  Task: Get and read the scroll with the information about the location of the five seals protecting the world from the arrival of the goods.

  Reward:

  2000 experience

  1000 gold

  The next quest in the series

  Accept?

  It was the moment of truth. Not exactly the end of the road, but still…

  The portal scroll Ort Ashen gave you was removed from your inventory.

  That’s a shame—I liked that scroll. They could have let me keep it!

  “Here it is.” Ort turned around and showed me the key, which was shimmering all the colors of the rainbow.

  What else is in the casket? The right to manage a puppet theater? He’d been Ort; he would be Ortino. He could write plays, get a stuffed dog…

  “Take your reward,” he said, all business. “Clear the table, so I don’t have to open this thing in my lap.”

  I was only too happy to follow orders.

  Without checking to see what it was, I swept the lot into my bag.

  “Hey, before I forget,” Ort said, unable to take his eyes off the key, “there’s a letter of credence you can use to go see any ruler you want whenever you want. Just write the name in yourself. I don’t usually leave that type of thing blank, but you’re a good guy, even if you are an ulcer.”

  As an additional reward for beating the Third Part of the Key quest, you received a letter of credence that will get you a one-time visit to any of the Rattermark monarchs.

  I already knew half of them well enough to walk right in, but it was still a nice little piece of paper to have. Maybe, I could sell it. I imagined it would cost big bucks.

  The casket thunked onto the table, and Ort brushed the dust off it.

  “I’ve waited for this moment for so long,” the old man said, cheeks quivering. “Finally, it’s here. I couldn’t be happier!”

  “Congratulations. Come on, get that thing open!”

  “Relax,” he said with a deep exhale. “You have to enjoy the moment. If I had my way, I’d pause time right now. What a feeling.”

  “By the way,” I said, suppressing a laugh, “imagine how funny our faces will look if you open it to find that what’s inside rotted away millennia ago. The papers and all the rest…”

  “If you jinxed it…” Ort stuck the key in the lock and looked at me sideways. “You’re going to die a terrible death!”

  That was one joke I shouldn’t have cracked. What if my scroll is the only thing that isn’t rotten? Obviously, it had to have survived, given that I had a quest for it, but everything else? I still didn’t really know who the powerful old guy was, though I did know he could take me out without breaking a sweat.

  The lid creaked open, and Ort let out a blast of air through his nose that sounded like a
n elephant trumpeting. I glanced over at the contents and sighed in relief. There wasn’t a pile of decay. Instead, there were two scrolls, a finely made pendant with an enormous red stone in the middle, and a short wand made out of precious stones.

  Ort was breathing quickly and brokenly. “It’s all here and intact. You’re lucky, warrior.”

  “Which one is mine?”

  He pulled out a scroll with a wax seal on the side and handed it to me.

  “Are we even? Everything fair?”

  “Absolutely.” I stroked the seal. “Exactly what we agreed on.”

  “In that case, get out of here,” Ort said, focused and serious.

  I realized that he wasn’t joking and crouched by the entrance to the cave, figuring that I could leap out and dive behind a stone if I needed to.

  Looking out at the clearing, I was surprised to see that Nazir was nowhere to be seen in the moonlight. Luckily, that was because I nearly smacked up against him; he was right next to the entrance looking at Ort with interest. The latter had given up his joy and was about to get down to work.

  The hermit spun around a few times, held his hands up in the air, muttered something under his breath, and took the amulet. He held it in both hands, stared at the stone, and watched it start to pulse crimson.

  It was interesting to watch, but I had other things to do. The scroll was about to dictate what my life was going to be like for the next little while. I carefully broke the seal and unrolled it.

  You, whoever is reading this scroll, should understand that it’s not too late to stop now. You need to clearly understand that you are on a dangerous path leading to greatness or agonizing death. Before you go too far, stop. Just say that you decline this quest, and the seal will return to its place.

  If you’re confident in your abilities, say that you accept the quest and find out how to traverse the path of gods and heroes. Remember, however, that there will be no way back. Are you sure you want this? You have a minute to make up your mind.