The Land of the Undying Lord

by J. T. Wright

  Tersa spotted it immediately and whispered, “Al’rashian,” in an excited tone.

  Trent didn’t recognize the word. It wasn’t in Elven or the Common Tongue. It reminded him of Al'dross, of course, but Tersa didn’t say it like it was a name. Al’rashian seemed more like a description when she said it.

  Before he could ask her what she meant, the man’s eyes shot open. Then he was standing at the bars of his cell, staring at them intently. Trent knew he hadn’t blinked, but yet he did not see the man stand or move. It was as if he’d always been standing there, and his sitting had been an illusion.

  “You are alive? It’s been… how long has it been since…” The man spoke in a bemused tone, half to himself. He studied the pair carefully as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Of all the man’s slightly unfamiliar features, his eyes stood out the most. Silver orbs on a white background, lacking any pupil, his eyes were captivating and shocking.

  The man’s hair was long, black, and unkempt, and the man reached up to brush it away from his silver eyes. He stared at the two, as surprised by their presence as Trent was at his appearance. The man seemed bewildered, while Tersa was suspicious. She’d never heard of a Trial holding anyone captive before.

  As for Trent, he had found something else to distract him from the unusual situation.

  Quest Received: Rescue the prisoner. Reward unknown

  A new Quest. A new Quest with unknown rewards. Trent had mixed feelings about this. It wasn’t a Class Quest like the one he had received at the start of the Trial. It also lacked the details of the small training-oriented Quests he had been sent on in the past, the ones that he suspected had been issued by Sergeant Cullen.

  This Quest had it come from the Trial? Why would the Trial want him to rescue a prisoner that was locked in the Trial’s own prison? There was no request asking him to accept or deny the Quest, and no punishment for failing it, that probably meant it was optional. Right?

  Trent’s internal musings were interrupted by the sound of the prisoner clearing his throat. The man gave a short bow. “My name is Orion Embra, Kin Slayer,” the prisoner introduced himself. “Who are you?”

  Tersa frowned at Orion’s introduction. She didn’t know a lot about the Al’rashians, just that they were a nomadic people that often acted as mercenaries and wandering Adventurers. The Guard wasn’t concerned with them as they rarely came to the Al'dross territory, and when they did, they weren’t the type to cause trouble. They were known to be honorable, if insular, but something about the Al’rashian’s introduction tickled a memory.

  “Kin Slayer… that isn’t a clan name!” she burst out, as it came to her. Al’rashians always spoke their clan names when meeting someone for the first time! Kin Slayer was…” You’re an exile! A criminal!”

  She shook her mace in the man’s direction as she accused him with the passion that only a peacekeeper in training could muster. Never trust an Al’rashian without a clan! That was rule number one. The only rule really, and more gossip than a rule, but she clearly remembered overhearing someone say it!

  “A criminal?” Trent questioned. That made sense since he was locked in a prison, but… “What crime can you commit in a Trial?”

  “No, no, not in the Trial,” Tersa exclaimed. “He's an exile. A clan traitor! They kicked him because he’s a Kin Slayer.”

  She trailed off as she realized what being a Kin Slayer meant. He’d killed his own family, and he told people about it? That was horrible. They should leave, now! This scum could rot here with the Zombies! She was about to tell Trent as much when Orion broke in.

  “You know some of our ways,” he said impassively, “but not as much as you think. I am an exile, but I am not a criminal or a traitor.” He kept his voice even, but there was an edge of both anger and depression in it.

  “If you aren’t a criminal, then why…” Trent couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was going on. Tersa wasn’t helping.

  “Of course, he’s a criminal!” She glared at Orion. “A murderer! That’s what Kin Slayer means! He killed his family!”

  “You speak of things you do not understand.” Orion didn’t exactly glare back at Tersa, but small lines formed at the edges of his eyes. “I performed an unsanctioned, but justified, kill. My brother… I will not speak of it with unnamed strangers. I was exiled and stripped of clan rights as punishment. However, my mother did not strip me of my family name. I was granted the Title, Kin Slayer, so all may know why I wander. In the clans, I am not considered a criminal.”

  “Well, in Al’drossford, people who kill their brothers are considered criminals!” Tersa shot back.

  “We’re not in Al’drossford,” Trent said unhelpfully. “I really don’t understand any of this.”

  “Look, this may help. Display Partial Status.” Orion spoke the words, and his Status appeared for them to examine.

  Name: Orion Embra

  Title: Kin Slayer

  Age: 32

  Race: Al’rashian

  Level: 27

  Class: Warrior Level 15

  Class: Mage Level 5

  Class: Spirit Summoner Level 7 (Sealed)

  Profession: None

  Health: 383

  Stamina: 810

  Mana: 600

  Strength: 55

  Agility: 46

  Dexterity: 35

  Constitution: 17

  Intelligence: 60

  Wisdom: 49

  Free Skill Points: 0

  Trent looked eagerly at Orion’s Status. He’d never seen anyone else display their information before. He also hadn’t known that it was possible to only display part of your Status. He couldn’t wait to try it himself.

  “I don’t see what that proves,” Tersa scoffed. She had no patience for criminals, especially not for someone who had killed his own brother.

  “It proves that Kin Slayer is my Title and that I still have a Family name. Among my people, true criminals are stripped of family rights as well as clan rights.” Orion’s voice was still calm, but more lines started appearing around his eyes, and a few showed up on his forehead.

  Had it just been a few minutes ago that he would have given anything for company? Just a few minutes of conversation with the frustrating female warrior, and he was ready to pay the same price for her to shut up.

  “Display Partial Status,” Trent spoke up, trying out the new trick he’d just seen.

  Name: Trent

  Age: 12

  Race: Human

  Level: 1

  Class: Survivalist Level 1

  Profession: None

  Health: 315

  Stamina: 315

  Mana: 80

  Strength: 12

  Agility: 11

  Dexterity:11

  Constitution: 7

  Endurance: 3

  Intelligence: 8

  Wisdom: 7

  Free Skill Points: 0

  Tersa and Orion stopped glaring at each other. Tersa turned her attention to her masked friend. “What are you doing?” Tersa asked incredulously.

  “Did you know you could choose to show a partial Status?” Trent asked Tersa. The Recruit’s jaw worked, but no sound came out. Of course, she knew, everyone knew that! No one displayed a full Status if they didn’t have too. It was common sense.

  Orion had also quickly read over Trent’s Status. “You’re a Survivalist!

  When no answer was forthcoming from Tersa, Trent looked at Orion. “You know about Survivalists?”

  This was even more important to the Summons. He only had a basic understanding of his own Class. If Orion could offer even a little information…

  But the Al'rashian wasn’t paying any attention to the boy’s question. He was still busy studying Trent’s Status.

  “This is all wrong,” Orion said slowly. “You have an Advanced Class, a Class you shouldn’t have, but you have the Attributes of a newly Awakened. It’s as if you received the Survivalist Class without ever training in a Basic
or Specialized Class first.”

  Trent wanted to defend himself. He was only Level 1, he was less than a month old, Survivalist was his first Class, but he kept all that to himself. Orion was a stranger, and he wasn’t supposed to reveal that he was a Summons. He dismissed his Status. He wasn’t the one who needed to explain himself. Orion was the prisoner here, a prisoner who probably needed Trent’s help.

  “Your name is Trent, but you have no family name, why is that?” Orion’s query pierced him. Trent didn’t have a surname because his careless master hadn’t given him one. It was a sore point that Trent tried not to think about.

  “He's an orphan, and it’s none of your business!” Tersa said angrily. She couldn’t see Trent’s face, but his slumped shoulders were a clear indication of discomfort. “Come on, Trent, let’s leave this murderer and get going!”

  She turned to go, tugging on Trent’s hand, but Orion quickly spoke up. “Wait! I apologize. This place has robbed me of my manners.”

  He gave another bow, this one deeper, and Trent saw genuine distress on his face. Distress, not because they were leaving, but because he might have caused offense with an absentminded remark.

  Tersa paused but would not acknowledge the man. She started walking again and tried to tug Trent along with her, but Trent pulled his hand free.

  “We can’t leave yet,” Trent said softly. “I have a Quest to free the prisoner.”

  Tersa spun around and regarded him with wide eyes. He could have spit on a statue of Noemi, Goddess of Mercy, and she would have been less disgusted. Guards did not free prisoners! Okay, maybe they did, but only after those prisoners had been properly punished! This prisoner, this murderer, had not met Tersa’s definition of properly punished.

  “A Quest?” Orion shook his head. “From the Trial? Your friend is right, Trent, you should leave. This Quest is too much for you.”

  Tersa’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to trick us!”

  “No.” Orion resumed his original sitting position. “Trial Quests can be harder than the clear conditions. If he is Level 1, you, nameless girl, cannot be much higher, or you would have drawn trouble that would have killed him.”

  “This Quest involves me,” he continued. “You will face obstacles more suited for my Level. It is impossible. You must leave. I am safe behind these bars, but Undead are still occasionally drawn to my life force. If you don’t leave now, you will be trapped here with beasts far stronger than yourselves.”

  Tersa still suspected a trap in the Al’rashian’s words, but Trent felt he was sincere. “We can at least try.”

  Orion shook his head. “No, the lock cannot be picked, and neither of you can break the Spell. I am grateful for the thought, but it is impossible.”

  Trent pushed his mask up and lowered his cowl. “How long have you been trapped in there?”

  Orion considered the question. “It is not easy to gauge the passing of time in this place. I have been here for weeks, perhaps months.”

  Tersa was about to try pulling Trent along again but faltered at this statement from the Al’rashian. “Alone? In the dark? How do you stand it?”

  “Trials are meant to test you,” Orion said matter-of-factly. “I endure because I must. I summon light when I feel the need. I meditate and practice my Skills to pass the time. Food appears when I hunger and water when I thirst. Many live worse lives.”

  Trent frowned. Orion sounded composed, but Trent recognized his words for what they were. They were empty platitudes that Orion told himself to keep fear, loneliness, and madness, at bay. Trent had used such a method in the Burning Lake.

  Orion had told them to leave, but he continued to answer their questions. He said it was too dangerous for them to stay, but the way his hands tightly gripped at his knees, said he didn’t want them to go. They were company and hope, the Al’rashian needed those things.

  If not for his experience in the Burning Lake, Trent might have left. He owed this stranger nothing, and the situation was clearly dangerous. His duty was to his master, he had no business risking his life for others. He should be hurrying back to Kirstin. There was no telling what she might be facing.

  But he wasn’t going to leave. The thought of Orion alone in this place kept his feet rooted when his instincts told him to walk away. He faced the Burning Lake alone. It had been horrible, and it wasn’t an experience he would wish on another person. Orion now faced a similar test, mental torture rather than a physical one. One he did not need to face alone.

  Tersa found herself conflicted. Part of her wanted to leave this place and leave this criminal to his fate. No matter what Orion said about names and family rights, a man who had killed his own brother deserved to be punished. You didn’t do things like that! Tersa had led a rough life before joining the Duke’s Guard, but she had never ever considered killing anyone over her circumstances, not seriously at least.

  Oddly enough, it was the part of her that had been trained by the likes of Sergeant Cullen and Corporal Francis that held her in place. You could kill an enemy or punish a criminal, but you should never act cruelly while doing so. People like Lieutenant Ranchell and Senior Guardsmen Merrill always said to act quickly, and cleanly, but justly. Mercy had its place in a Guardsman’s decisions.

  There was no mercy in Orion’s imprisonment. It was unreasonable to trap a man alone in the dark with only the Undead for company. If the Trial had killed the man, she would have accepted it with a sniff and a nod. Criminals got what they earned in the end. However, the thought of being in these stone hallways without Trent and his handy little portable flames sent a shiver through her. It would be cruel to do that to another person. Tersa could be thoughtless from time to time, but there wasn’t a cruel bone in her body.

  “You said the Undead are drawn here by your presence,” Trent said, looking around the room. “How many? How often? What do they do when they come?”

  Orion raised an eyebrow at the questions fired at him. The boy’s Status had said he was 12. He looked a few years older to the Al’rashian’s eyes, but Statuses didn’t lie. There were Skills that could alter some aspects of a Status. Orion had thought Trent might have used one to change his Class, but he had dismissed that suspicion quickly. The Classes that could use those Skills were no less rare or powerful than the Survivalist Class. If the boy wanted to hide his power, he’d surely chose a less outstanding disguise.

  If the boy was truly a 12-year-old with only a single Level, why did this mace-wielding harpy look like she was ready to follow his lead? The redheaded warrior had the look of a soldier about her. She was still rough around the edges, a trainee most likely, but her training was apparent. Shouldn’t she be in charge?

  “Never more than three,” Orion said after a moment. “Three walking corpses, Zombie Guards, come every few hours. They rattle their weapons on the bars and pull at the cell door, then leave. But there’s one…”

  Orion hesitated. He should be urging these young ones to leave, to run. The Undead drawn to his aura were much stronger than this inexperienced pair. He should insist that they flee and not look back.

  He tried to, but the words caught in his throat. He was used to solitude. Al’rashian children were born to battle and discipline. From a young age, he’d been trained to endure. However, this place touched a primal fear deep within him.

  The Al’rashian people hadn’t always been nomadic. Once, they had been a proud kingdom. Their history stretched back to before the Awakening, but that kingdom and so much of their heritage had been lost, taken by an enemy who had unleashed a plague of the Undead upon them. Now centuries later, the descendants of the once-proud nation still held a fear of the unholy creatures.

  He sighed.” There is one, a Tainted Terror, he comes at random. He sits at the table and watches me, sometimes for hours. He whispers and laughs.” His voice faded.

  Orion’s rumbling, melodic voice broke as he thought of the red eyes which shone in the dark. “He is only Level 15, but he is strong and named.
Warden Krip, the Torturer.”

  “Named?” Tersa whispered hoarsely. A named and titled Trial Beast. A named beast at Level 15 was not something she and Trent could face.

  “You’re a mage,” Trent said to Orion, as his mind raced. “Are you able to cast spells from your cell? Can you teach me any spells?”

  “Survivalist isn’t a Mage class,” Orion replied, his head tilting slightly. “What use would you have for spells?”

  “Magic is magic, right?” Tersa interjected, “Why wouldn’t he want to learn spells?”

  Orion shook his head. These young ones were eager but ignorant. “It is true, most high leveled Adventurers learn a Spell or two, but the cost in terms of Mana usage for anyone without a Mage Class is staggering. Even if you could learn…”

  “Trent can learn anything!” Tersa was indignant. “You should see what he can do with Spark!”

  “Spark is a Charm, not a true Spell,” Orion replied. “I'm afraid you don’t have the Mana, and we don’t have the time for you to learn, Trent. It can take months to master even a tier one Spell through study. That is why Spell Stones are so popular.”

  Trent nodded, accepting Orion’s explanation, and was prepared to move on. Tersa, however, wasn’t.

  “What do you know? Arisa said Trent learned Spark in like ten seconds. You just don’t want to teach him.” Tersa was angry, but she knew what bothered her about the Al’rashian. She agreed that they should help him if they could, but she couldn’t accept the man himself. There was also the fact that she herself desperately wanted to learn magic beyond simple Charms. If Orion felt Trent couldn’t learn them, Trent, who picked up Skills as easy as breathing, what did that mean for her?

  “You learned Spark that easily?” Orion was curious now.