by M J Sweeney
“Oh shit!” I said, “Here it comes.”
“Cordaen! What have you done?”
“Me? You did it too!” I exclaimed. We furiously attacked the first three risen before more came, but as the last of the three fell, the whole area began teeming with rapidly forming undead, crying things like “Mine!” or “Where are my slippers?” or “You stole my sword!” We rushed out of the small dining room, but there were now a number of them before us, up to the entrance, and all of them turned to glare at us balefully, random weapons in hand.
“Damn it! Marcus, get behind me. I’m gonna sprint and shoulder-charge to the end; you run fast after me while they’re scattered.” I activated Breath of Life.
“Fuck!”
I took that as acceptance. “One, two, go!” I almost made it to the end, but there were too many piled up. But I just kept running, using my weight to run over or push past. I took a number of hits—a couple of bad ones to my back and chest—but kept going up the stairs. Marcus caught up, huffing behind me, so I put on another burst of speed. Glancing behind me, I saw a whole pack of undead chasing along behind us. We kept going, and Marcus started laughing and wheezing, hunched over as he ran.
“Fucking crazy elf! I can’t breathe…”
I was laughing too hard to give a proper reply. What a rush. Once we got to the roadway, the animated spirits turned and quickly ran or floated back.
We caught our breath and healed.
“C’mon,” I said, getting to my feet again and gesturing him up.
“What? You’re not going back, are you?”
“Sure am. You too.”
“You’re mad. You can’t be serious.” He looked at me incredulously.
“If they stay animated, we’ve got a nice tight doorway where we can pin them down—and where they can’t get out from. Only one or two can attack us at a time.”
“Mad.” But he got to his feet with a groan and strode beside me.
My blood was up. When I wanted to go forward, from now on, I didn’t want anything holding me back. Even if I had to drag people like Marcus along with me, kicking and screaming. Well, maybe not so bad as that, I think he was into it too, just that he needed a bit of prompting.
They did indeed stay animated. The doorway looked like it had started to close on its own. We crept up to the entrance, and while Marcus pushed the door back into its recess, all it took were a few stones from me and the whole mob started to pile up the stairs, howling madly. Two by two, we whittled them down. I lost count after forty. Marcus levelled to 15, and I gained level 16. Any items they dropped we simply threw back inside, which caused only more howling, but nothing more sinister. Eventually, there were no more.
We took a short break back by the tree, while I made some tea.
“Can I ask you something?” I nodded at Marcus while I stirred the pot.
“Sure, go ahead.” He looked on, sitting on a rock, his muscular arms hanging loosely by his side, his helm, hammer, and shield laid down beside him.
“You seemed a bit bothered when I offered the shack to the elf family.”
“Ah… yeah. I’m not one for… regular company. Not normally. Civilians, you know?”
“Right, I heard that the first time. I was wondering if you were military in your… previous life?”
“No, no I wasn’t. I just… let me just say it wasn’t from lack of trying. I was an army brat you see, grew up military with a sergeant-major father, but when it came to my turn… when I was eighteen, I had a bad motorbike accident and totally fucked my knee.” He patted his leg. “After that, I had no chance. So now, when the chance came to enter this world and start again, I grabbed it. I could join the military with this new, improved body. Plus, spells and magic are really cool.”
“Right. Aras makes perfect sense then, hey?” The god of war was definitely the boss of all things military.
“Yes, exactly. You get it, no?” I nodded. “How about you?” he asked.
“I was a bouncer…” I said slowly.
“A bouncer? Like guarding doors and stuff?”
“Kind of… there was a bit more to it than just that. The club I worked saw quite a bit of action, so although it did involve a lot of waiting around, I had to handle all sorts of violence and bad behaviour… I don’t like talking of it much. I was happy to leave all that behind.” He was looking at me curiously as I hesitated. He looked interested, and kind of jealous, maybe. I wasn’t sure why.
“Just that I like this a whole lot better.” I gestured around me at the world. “No more being sidelined by some law or liability. No more taking the back seat.”
But he nodded acceptance. “That I can understand for sure.”
“Fancy another run through?” I asked innocently.
“I knew you were going to say that, madman.” But he grinned and followed me in.
I was pondering if I wasn’t getting a little addicted. To charging in and forging forward. I shook myself from those kind of negative musings, and paid attention to the here and now. That’s what it was really about after all.
The curved corridor and smaller Quadrinity door to the next level was only single file, but the entrance to the large banquet hall had a short corridor where we both could stand and fight comfortably. We repeated the manoeuvre, though I had to run into the room once or twice to get items and run back out before the cascade occurred. Eventually, the whole place was swarming with embodied spirits running from the kitchens and the rooms beyond. I kept track of the cooldown, as it was slow going deanimating them all. But so many meant steady experience, so we kept at it. My main concern was that I didn’t want the mini-bosses to respawn while this mess was going on; we’d not survive if the rogues and cook and major-domo mobbed us too.
Not five seconds after that thought, I heard the running of feet, as someone or something brushed past me. Suddenly, I could see the cook and major-domo charging my way, howling with their terror attack. Disengaging abruptly from the spirit I was fighting, I shoved Marcus back, and legged it as fast as I could up the stairs.
“Go, go, go!” I was yelling, Marcus soon lumbering behind me.
Fortunately, the animated spirits were a little clumsy, and not really used to their bodies, so were all getting in each other’s way.
The strangest thing was I was sure I could hear evil sniggering in front of me as I ran, and the flash of pale skin. Once outside the ruins, the remainder of the risen all returned down the stairs, and the upper level slowly closed again. Although I wasn’t afraid of two of the immortal spirits, it was the two rogues we would have trouble with. If I couldn’t see them, it was a sure bet they were about to backstab.
“What the hell?” Marcus complained when we got back to the main camp under the tree. I looked about and couldn’t see any signs of whatever had caused that. Someone or something else had been in there with us, making me feel a bit suspicious.
“Gods, talk about speak of the devil…” I trailed off.
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked, scratching tiredly at the stubble on his face.
“I’d just been thinking I was being a bit gung-ho, and loving charging forward a bit too much. Need to be more careful…”
He nodded. “Gung-ho? Well, maybe. I think too cautious is also a problem. You’ve been showing me that for sure also.”
“Hmm, maybe you’re right. It’s hard to know where the balance is.”
Lacking anything better to do, we crept back to the ruins, but found no sign. Mutually shrugging, Marcus and I simply continued to deanimate the remainder, and for good measure we killed the cook, major-domo, and the two rogues. Bonus experience plus a few coins was always nice. This time, both of the rogues had magic daggers.
Entry added
/ Quest of the Elven Quadrinity / Part One (of Four)
/ Explore all levels of the Ruins of Eragdas Alfar and clear them out at least once / Part One (of Three) Completed
I got a lot of bonus experience for that, and went from just
over level 16 to well over level 17 in one go. Marcus was a little jealous, as for some reason I couldn’t share that quest with him. I also wasn’t sure what the updated quest entry actually meant.
***
“You came back!” Juisse squealed and hugged my legs.
I stood there bemused for a moment, uncertain what I should do.
Her mother came and gave me a kind smile, and detached the girl from my legs. “She’s been talking of you both all day, worried you wouldn’t return.”
“Oh.” I knelt down. “We are back now, Juisse, safe and sound, as you can see.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“A little. Yes, at times. But we hurt them more.”
She smiled. “Good. The bad guys should never win,” she proclaimed.
I laughed. “Indeed, a fine sentiment.” She scampered off to play with her sisters, who were gathering reeds and other lakeside plants.
The next morning, before the family left, Juisse ran up and gave me a hug, holding out a little green leaf. It was a four-leafed clover. “I was going to keep it,” she said, “But I wanted to give it to you.”
I thanked her and pinned it to my armour, next to my holy symbol. She was sweet. Elz was gazing at us and scowling and looking decidedly unhappy. I gave him a suspicious frown, so he simply hunched his shoulders and slunk off. He’d still said not a word to either of us.
Chapter 17
With the family gone, Marcus and I farmed the risen for a few more days, and both gained another level. But as that kind of thing was ultimately boring, despite the fact that we had amassed quite a bit of loot, we decided to call it quits. There was nothing more particularly productive to do here. At my prompting, Marcus also promised not to disclose the location to anyone unless he asked me first.
We camped back at the hut for one more night, then gratefully left the area early the next morning. We had buried a whole stack of weapons at the back of the hut, wrapped in the tarpaulin. I hoped to return once I figured out a bit more of what was going on here—and maybe discovered the whereabouts of the suspected overlord of the place.
The better quality short swords and daggers (from the immortal rogues) we put into my bag of holding, but as it still weighed something despite the magic weight reducing properties, I packed the bag onto the mule. We would go back to the capital together and get the magic items identified, sell them, and divide up the proceeds. I also needed to get a lot of my gear repaired. My armour in particular needed some work; its effectiveness had been reduced from over two months in the wilderness.
Marcus said he would introduce me to the High Bishop of his church in Geras Anandiel—the High Priest was actually a player from Earth—who lived in the human city of Bann-Arden to the north-west. The Bishop should be able to introduce me to an elven scholar who could help translate the old alfar runes I had transcribed onto his cloak. The list of what we had collected was as follows:
Magic:
2 magic short swords (unidentified)
3 magic daggers (unidentified)
1 leather armour doublet (unidentified)
1 reinforced silk slippers (unidentified)
Mundane:
346 olde elven silver pieces
19 olde elven gold pieces
29 rings (all purloined from the major-domo and rogues)
2 golden candlesticks
1 full deck of divine cards
71 olde elven short swords
71 olde elven daggers
37 assorted jars of alchemical purpose
(The last were all carefully bundled inside my Bag of Holding to avoid breakage)
I was happy enough with the amount of loot, though a little disappointed in my quest. What kind of dungeon has no dungeon boss at the end of it? There was something I was missing there, though I guessed if it was easy, someone else would have figured it out. Something I had to solve… the question was how? I had a few vague leads, so I’d just have to follow them up. The other desire strong in me was to find a church or group linked to Anthul, the god of solitude, harmony, and song. I’d been feeling the pull, and was happy to follow that guidance.
Chapter 18
Due to our extra baggage and my pace afoot, it was fairly slow going. It took us eleven days to get to Geras Anandiel. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the first thing I noticed was a cluster of massive redwood and giant willow trees at the city’s centre. Some were at least twice the normal size. Then I noticed that the outer perimeter of Geras was completely open, without any typical buttressed stone walls for protection. Other than the ruins I had seen, it seemed elves really didn’t like enclosed spaces. As I didn’t either, I thought it grand.
Many of the well-to-do high elves lived up in the trees, particularly the high court. It was considered crass by some for their feet to touch the earth. Many did not deign to wear shoes and scorned those that did.
Marcus told me many other details that I knew I’d forget, but it surely was a glorious sight to first see those clusters of majestic redwoods and giant willows piercing the very heavens, and tiny beings seen from the distance walking their branches like ants at a picnic.
I’d never seen a giant willow before, but these had housing above and below, though the leaves were always everywhere. The granddaddy willow in the middle of the city had a span of almost two hundred metres, and height almost double that. His branches and leaves covered over like a great green shaggy head, with shadows and mystery in its depth, granting privacy to all those within.
The city itself seemed to undulate over a series of hills, some parks and buildings hidden away, some built directly into the sides of the hill, and other areas fully open to the sky. It seemed a beautiful and complicated place. The buildings themselves were often joined together, kind of like terraces, with related families often owning the large, layered structures and sharing space.
There were no queues to get into the city, even though there were a lot of people moving to and from. Everyone seemed to be just doing as they pleased, but in a controlled, polite sort of way. Marcus pointed at one of the squads, explaining they were always in groups of twelve. They patrolled the (mostly) wide streets of Geras and scouted the nearby forest around the city.
He explained a little about them, pointing out that the squads, called “Unity,” typically consisted of at least three archers, three swordsmen (dual-wielding swords), and three casters of some kind—priests or battle-mages. At least one or two of the swordsmen always had advanced rogue skills also, or were rogues first and dual-wielding swordsman second, however you looked at it. They were all around level 60 and were super-vigilant with all goings on in Geras. They combined as patrol, guardsmen, policemen, tax-enforcers, investigators, and census officials.
We approached from the east side of the city, up one of the main paved roads, amidst farmers with pigs and herders with their sheep, merchants with goods, and adventurers on horses. Twice we were passed by beautiful-looking carriages pulled by teams of four horses, with gilded trimming and blinds drawn.
It was chaos after the quiet of the forest. I found it exciting and a little nerve wracking. So many people! A group of “Unity” calmly marched up to us, and an elf in rendered chainmail leaves—dyed various shades of green—stepped forward and approached me.
The leader (I assumed it was the leader) had a severe expression, but also seemed a little disinterested, though that may have been a high elf thing.
“Name, sir?”
I blinked.
“Uh, Cordaen,” I replied, looking at Marcus in confusion. He motioned at me palm-down, gesturing it’s okay, take it easy.
The group behind the patrol leader stopped, and the archers spread out a little and looked around at everyone, eyes suspicious. One of the battle-mages had a clipboard out and stood directly behind the swordsman.
“Uh Cordaen, purpose of visit?”
“Uh, it’s just Cordaen, Cordaen of-the-Forest.” I could see the mage writing that down. “And… tourism, I g
uess.”
“One moment sir, while we take your particulars.” He looked me up and down a moment and started reciting, “Race: wood elf, male; age: young adult; long grey hair, brown eyes, brown skin. Height approximately one seventy-five centi, weight approximately eighty-five kay-gee. No other distinguishing features.” As the patrol leader spoke, the mage wrote.
Wow, that was quick, I thought.
“Guild affiliations?” he asked.
“Uh, none. Oh, I should say Priest of Anthul,” I blurted out without thinking. Damn. I didn’t even know if it was true. Marcus was looking at me strangely. Previously, I had told him I was looking for a deity but was as yet unaligned.
The patrol leader’s expression seemed to soften slightly with that statement, and he nodded. “Good. On your way, citizen.”
Then, just like that, they jogged off. “What the—?” I muttered and turned to Marcus. “What was that?”
“Census. They record everyone coming in to the city. Don’t ask me how they do it. The prevalent theory is that the gods tag us somehow, and anyone on the census has a little green flag, and anyone not on the census has a little red flag. And so any mage with a powerful identify can check us out.” He shrugged. “No biggie.”
We continued on into the city, Marcus leading the horse and mule, as it was illegal to ride in the city unless you were a member of the Knights’ Templar—the Elf-King Emenne Urh’Anandiel’s elite guard. Marcus told me all about that as we came to his church. He had offered me lodgings there for a fee, but he said it would be cheaper than staying in a tavern or hotel. The latter were very expensive; adventurers were known to bankrupt themselves here trying to afford a more affluent lifestyle and rise in the rungs of any of the race, class, guild, or political ladders.
The church of Aras seemed a combination of barracks and hospice, a series of single-story wooden buildings set in a square. We stabled the horses in one area and walked to the other end.