Omnibus Volume 1

by C. M. Carney

  “I am Gartheniel, Steward of Sylvan Aenor and First Councilor to His Lordship Regent Lassendir. The questions I now ask you must be answered truthfully or those crimes will be added to those that you are already accused of. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” said Gryph.

  “Place your hand on the book. It will know whether the words you speak are the truth or falsehood.”

  Gryph did as bidden and felt a warmth spread through the scaled leather cover as it pulsed with life and purpose. A golden light flared around his hand and then faded. The Steward nodded and opened the book to a fresh, unmarked page and dipped the quill into the ink.

  “What is your name?” the Steward asked.

  “I am known as Gryph,” Gryph responded, realizing that the name still sounded odd, somehow foreign to the man who had once been Finn Caldwell.

  The Steward wrote his name in the book and golden light flared around the letters leaving the ink dry. The Steward went along to the others in the group, repeating the ritual and both Tifala and Ovyrm who gave their names without incident. Despite the dire circumstances they found themselves in, Gryph could not help but grin when Wick told the Steward his full name. Dinkwick Flintspanner did not seem to amuse the dour Steward as much as it had Gryph. Maybe I’m just an immature idiot?

  The Steward did not seem aggrieved by Ovyrm’s existence and Gryph noticed, unlike every other elf he’d seen to date, the shorter Steward bore the hint of a five o'clock shadow and his ears were more rounded than the other elves. He activated Analyze and learned that the man was a half elf.

  The Steward’s eyes snapped up and Gryph had the distinct impression that the man knew he’d been Analyzed. “It is considered uncouth to Analyze someone without permission,” the Steward said to him in a low voice. “I would strongly advise that you not take such liberties with the Regent.” The man whispered the last phrase again. “I strongly advise.”

  Gryph gave the man a nod that was part apology and part understanding and the Steward nodded back in apparent acceptance of the apology.

  The Steward turned back to the Regent. “They are who they claim to be My Lord.” He brought the book up to the Regent’s chair and placed it at his side. The Regent laid his hand on the book and looked at Ovyrm.

  “Adjudicator Ovyrm Nightslayer,” the Regent said. "You are of the Accursed, the Forsaken, the Fallen. We wiped your kind from the face of Korynn many thousands of years ago. Come forward and explain how you come to stand before me.”

  Ovyrm took a step towards the dais and every guard seemed to grow tense. Gryph hadn’t thought that was possible and feared that the rigid guardsmen would pull a muscle. Ovyrm bowed ever so slightly to the Regent. “My Lord, you are correct, I am not of this realm, I come from the Outer Realms. I am a descendent of the Lost Thousand.”

  Gasps of shock flowed through the chamber and even the stoic Regent seemed caught off guard. He leaned forward, pain battling serenity in his eyes. “Impossible,” the Regent whispered and then caught himself. Gryph did not understand what the Lost Thousand were, but the mention of them had caught even the Regent off guard.

  “Quite possible, My Lord,” Ovyrm stated. "The thousand El’Edryn children taken by the Dark Ascendancy suffered the same fate as all High Elves taken by the arboleth. They were tortured and corrupted, both mentally and physically. They became the Fallen, the last of my species, and the most powerful. I am a descendent of those poor souls.”

  Gasps of horror passed through the bystanders who had forgotten whatever tasks they’d been about to listen to the claims of this daemon of yore.

  “But, after millennia of forced servitude, one among us rose up and freed our people from the shackles of that oppression. This leader discovered she was immune to the mental conditioning the arboleth used to control us and over time she taught the rest of us to fight back. We became the xydai, the Free, and we are still out there today, on the front lines, fighting to hold the horrors of the arboleth and the illurryth at bay.”

  “I have heard no such tales, xydai,” The Regent said, the word xydai seeming to catch on his tongue in irritation.

  “Much has occurred in the Outer Realms since the Exodus, and due to the Accords none of this news would have reached you or any other being on Korynn.”

  “Explain these Accords,” The Regent said.

  “As you are no doubt aware My Lord, the Exodus was to be the final assault against the Dark Ascendancy, designed to push them from this Realm and hunt them wherever they fled. However, when your ancestors, and mine, pursued the abominations to the Outer Realms, they could not know what they would find. There are many peoples and creatures who call the planets, moons and even the empty spaces of the Outer Realms home. Some of these peoples are as noble as Your Lordship and some others are near as terrible as the arboleth themselves. The Alliance realized that they needed to protect this Realm from all the dangers that lay above us.”

  Ovyrm looked skyward and, despite themselves, many others in the room followed suit.

  “To that end they signed the Accords, a blood oath treaty designed to prevent anyone, or anything, from ever setting foot on Korynn again, on pain of death. They believed that this realm needed time to heal and develop, free of the old influences that had nearly destroyed it.”

  “Yet you are here,” the Regent said.

  “I am,” Ovyrm said. “Not only did I violate the Accords, the highest law of all the free peoples of the Outer Realms, but I also broke my vow as an adjudicator to uphold and defend the Accords.”

  “You realize that you have just admitted to a capital crime?”

  “I do Your Lordship, but I must point out that since you are not a signatory of the Accords and until this moment you were unaware of their existence, you have no authority to lay down any punishments listed in the Accords.”

  A gasp of surprise moved through the crowd and Gryph wondered if Ovyrm’s tactic was the wisest of courses.

  “You have an agile legal mind adjudicator, and you are of course correct that I have no authority to enforce these Accords of yours. However, as you likely know, we …” The Regent opened his hands to encompass all of those around him. “… are the last defenders of the Alliance, and we take all oaths sworn to defend this Realm, even those not sworn to us personally, as blood oaths. And that is a crime I do have the legal authority to punish. By your own admission you have proven your guilt.”

  “I have,” Ovyrm stated, never taking his yellow eyes from the Regent.

  “Would you care to explain why?”

  “I came to Korynn in search of my old master, a man as much father as a teacher. A man driven mad by his desire to protect this world, and those that lay beyond it. In an ancient tome he found the locations of the lost Prime Godheads. He came to believe that by finding and bonding with one of the divine artifacts he could protect the Realms.”

  The Regent’s face seemed to turn pale at the mention of the divine artifact, and more murmurs of shock flowed through the room. Wick cast a nervous glance at Gryph.

  “The Pantheon has claimed all the lost Godhead’s,” Myrthendir said stepping forward. “I have seen these new gods of the Pantheon myself. They came by their rule though conquest. Conquest given them, in part, by the beings known as players.” Myrthendir lowered his gaze to Gryph. “There are no more Godheads unaccounted for.” He returned his gaze to Ovyrm.

  “I do not know the truth of that My Lord,” Ovyrm began. “What I do know is that my master was already a powerful adjudicator, perhaps the most powerful the Order had ever produced, before his mind turned to his dark obsession. If the rumor was even a possibility, I owed it to him, and to the people whose lives my vow was intended to protect, to do all in my power to see that he did not fall further into darkness.”

  Myrthendir grew quiet, and the Regent turned his gaze inward, deep in thought.

  “He speaks the truth my lord,” the elf woman said.

  The Regent turned to her with a look that lay somewher
e between concern and inquiry.

  “Are you sure?” the Regent said.

  “The xydai speaks true,” she said. Then the odd elven woman eased her way past Myrthendir and slowly descended the stairs of the dais towards Ovyrm and Gryph.

  “Daughter, my ward?” The Regent said, his voice a mix of curiosity and alarm. “I beg you, stay next to me where it is safe.”

  “I will be fine, father. This is the man I have foreseen.” She walked past Ovyrm and came to Gryph. She held up her hands wide as if seeking permission.

  Gryph did not know what to make of this gesture, but her warm smile somehow eased his concern, and before he realized it he had lowered his head to her. Her small hands cradled his head, and she closed her eyes.

  “A player this man may be, but he is of the Realms and has lived many lives both here and in a faraway place outside all the Realms. I can feel the wisps of his soul, who he once was, and what he may become. He is now a man of infinite potential.”

  Shit, Gryph thought. Can she feel the Godhead?

  “But he was many people before. Among many others he was once the Thalmiir king who lost his mind.”

  “You are saying that in a past life he was the last Stone King?” Lassendir said, his voice quavering.

  The Stone King? Can it be? Gryph remembered the odd, uncontrolled visions he’d experienced while in the Soul Reverie. That was real?

  “Yes, and he is a harbinger of both dark and light times.” She opened her violet eyes and stared deep into Gryph’s. “He brings with him the key to an ancient secret. His arrival harkens a time of doom or a time of renewal. Our fates are now entwined. He …” She paused and her eyes filled with terror. “The Dwellers in the Dark have come. Their time is at hand.”

  Gryph felt the hands at his temples waver and then the woman collapsed. Gryph caught her before she could fall to the floor.

  “Sillendriel,” yelled Barrendiel, the Captain of the Rangers, and he rushed to her, pushing Gryph aside as he cradled her head. Both the Regent and Myrthendir also rushed to her side, the Regent casting aside his formality to check on his adopted daughter. The Prince Regent kept a respectful distance. Gryph could see she was still breathing. The captain realized the same and leapt to his feet, a flash of steel announcing the sharp dagger at Gryph’s throat.

  “What have you done to her?” Barrendiel said, and Gryph could see the fear animating the man’s anger.

  “Sheath your weapon captain,” the Regent barked in a voice that could not be ignored. “He did nothing to your sister. It is her own accursed ability that she is a victim of.”

  Barrendiel scowled for a moment, but then pulled the blade from Gryph’s throat, drew it along his own hand, drawing a thin line of blood, wiped it clean on his cloak and returned to its housing. Barrendiel backed away never taking his eyes from Gryph. The other guards had their spears lowered at Wick, Tifala and Ovyrm, ensuring they stayed put. One of his rangers handed him a strip of cloth that he wrapped around his hand.

  “Once a ranger draws his weapon, it must taste blood,” Myrthendir whispered to Gryph as the other elf stood. “You are lucky my father intervened.”

  Several elves rushed to Sillendriel’s side, and the Regent allowed them to help her to her feet. Her eyes seemed glazed, clouded over by some terrible vision she could not explain.

  She grabbed Gryph’s hand in a fierce grip and her mouth dropped. She looked down at Gryph’s soul bound satchel in alarm, reaching a tentative hand out to caress its leather surface.

  Strong hands pulled her away from Gryph and the Regent took her into his arms. She looked up at the Regent, eyes pleading. “Please, you must believe me, this man from a realm beyond the Realms is the key to all our survival. You must help him.”

  “Hush now my child. Rest,” The Regent said.

  Sillendriel’s eyes came to Gryph's and then he heard her, no felt her, in his mind. I know what you carry, the seal and the eggs. You must keep them safe. You must let no one acquire them, or I fear doom and destruction will claim us all. If anyone opens the city death will follow. Promise me you will keep them safe.

  You have been offered the Quest Sillendriel’s Plea

  Sillendriel the ward and adopted daughter of the Regent Lassendir has asked you to protect the Seal of the Dwarven King and the arboleth eggs. The Dwellers in the Dark have long haunted the dark recesses of Sylvan Aenor and the seal and the eggs could allow them to bring about a second Dark Ascendency.

  Difficulty: Incredible Reward: Increased Reputation with Sillendriel and safety of the Realms.

  XP: 20,000

  Do you Accept this Quest? Yes or No?

  Gryph didn’t know what to make of her plea. Her mind was more present than Ovyrm’s and the others had been when he’d heard their thoughts. It was times like these that he missed Lex. He still didn’t understand all the ‘rules’ of the Realms and while he understood the word Incredible, he didn’t quite know what to make of the sliding scale of difficulty regarding quests. This was also the first quest that had mentioned Reputation, just another thing that he didn’t understand about the Realms.

  Her intensity, the power of her need, seeped into Gryph, and he found that he believed her. Is this a trick, some part of her ability? Gryph saw her intense eyes staring at him and he finally nodded and accepted the quest. He felt a surge of warmth move through his body and knew in the back of his mind that the quest had somehow melded with his soul. Where the hell are you Lex?

  Then Sillendriel lapsed into unconsciousness and Gryph saw a moment of pain cross the Regent’s face, before his role as leader took over once again. The Regent stood and stared at Gryph and his eyes were deep pools of suspicion. Never taking his eyes from Gryph he held his hand out. “Bring me the player's bag.”

  Barrendiel handed Gryph’s soul bound satchel to the Regent. The regal elf closed his eyes as if sending his will into the bag. “A soul bound bag,” the Regent muttered low and then looked up at Gryph. “A rare item indeed. What is it you are trying to hide?” He closed his eyes once more and concentrated.

  “The Journal of Jebbis,” the Regent said aloud with little interest.

  Wick’s eyes snapped up to Gryph’s at the mention of his dead cousin’s journal and his eyes seemed to beg the truth from Gryph. Gryph’s expression was one of regret. Wick’s first actions upon meeting Gryph had nearly led to the player’s death, and this had been before Gryph had known he could respawn. In his anger he had decided not to give the journal to Wick, and then later the heat of battle had forced the journal from his mind. Seeing the pain in his small friend’s eyes, Gryph knew the gnome saw his withholding as a betrayal.

  “The Seal of the Dwarven King,” Lassendir said and gasps flowed through those assembled.

  “Who are you?” Barrendiel said, advancing on Gryph, hand on his dagger once more. Myrthendir placed a hand on the irate captain’s forearm to stop the man from drawing his weapon again.

  Lassendir’s eyes widened and his head snapped up at Gryph. The elder elf stood and crossed the distance between them quicker than Gryph would have thought possible and then the Regent’s own blade lay against Gryph’s throat.

  “Not one, but two arboleth eggs,” the Regent hissed.

  Gasps of shock rose to squeals of horror at the mention of the eggs. Gryph’s eyes followed those gasps and discovered that several of them had come from his own friends. Dammit, the prompts warned you how dangerous those things were, Gryph thought.

  “Are you the Dweller in the Dark?” the Regent demanded.

  8

  All eyes, and a dozen spears, were pointed at Gryph. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to say next. He knew his life rested on a razor’s edge and his answers could well determine which way he fell. In the end he decided the simple truth was the best path.