A World Called Memory

by M J Sweeney

  / Explore the Ruins of Eragdas Alfar /

  / Part One (of Three) Completed /

  Now, surely that was no coincidence. I had only completed one of the three stages at Eragdas. One. Two more to go! The high priestess had told me that the cycle of the moons was important. As Maor was considered at its lowest ebb in the fifth month, it was beginning to wax more consistently by the end of each year, and in particular in the new year, by mid-spring—the second month, right now. And at the beginning of the fourth month, it would take another jump, and be at its full power. This meant the undead there were changed or changing, right now. Better, stronger, faster. I was out of time, I had to leave for the ruins now!

  In retrospect, what I did next was more than a little stupid, but my enthusiasm got the better of me. I grabbed my pack and Bag of Holding, and stuffed everything I thought I would need into it. Next I left a note for Ascard on Georg’s desk, and marched out of the College at midnight. After collecting my horse and saddling her, I walked her towards the east gate. Then, the inevitable happened.

  I felt my side suddenly pierced and was overcome with fire and agony. Looking down, I could see a feathered shaft embedded though my left side, slowly disintegrating in fire. My insides burned too. My horse was also squealing in pain, rearing up and pulling free from my grip. The sound was muffled somehow, like someone had thrown a blanket over my head. I was having trouble staying upright, but I shouldered my pack a little more securely and held my spear in front and fairly close, in the cross-guard position.

  It was no surprise when Weasel-Face appeared a few metres in front of me. He was holding a crossbow, another quarrel nocked. I could see that the tip of the bolt was glowing red, pulsing slightly in the dim light. Now that was ominous—probably fucking magical fire. Asshole.

  “Now, fancy that,” he observed. “I’ve been staking out your little College for some time now, despite the fact that the boss has all of us out on missions outside of Geras these days. I had my pick of three locations, and had to turn down a sizeable stake, but instead here I am… I took it as a point of pride to keep my tabs on you.”

  I groaned, but quietly activated both of my heals in rapid order. I kept groaning a little to mask the fact that I was healing. With just over half my health, if I could keep him talking long enough, that would soon change.

  “Why? What did I ever do to you?” I complained, allowing my voice to rise in pitch.

  “Why? It’s simple. I don’t like you. I don’t like elves, and I don’t like that asshole Big Nose. I can’t get to him, so I’m getting to you. Simple maths.”

  “Simple maths? Simple stupidity, I would say. What happens when I tell Big Nose?”

  His face started to colour. “Fuck you, elf. You’ll just keep dying… and this time, your luck will probably run out, and you’ll be permanently dead.”

  He glared at me, clearly mad and vengeful. What kind of person killed another over some stupid quest? At least, I assumed that’s what this was about.

  “Can’t say I’m gonna cry about that,” he growled out, his evil little weasel-eyes squinting at me.

  I shrugged painfully. “I’m luckier than you think. Plus, my god loves me and you can’t stop me from coming back.” I said this with false bravado. Who knew, maybe it was true.

  “Then you’ll keep dying.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Now, now, sneaky elf, trying to heal. Can’t have that.” He shot me again. I tried to dodge, but he was too close. The impact was brutal, the quarrel burning inside me. The fire damage was killing me. Shit. Then the guttersnipe disappeared. My health was back under half again, and dropping from internal damage.

  Listening intently, I tried to hear where he was, moving and shuffling in short circles. Feeling a presence to the side, I thrust in that direction. I heard a muffled cry and grunt, but he didn’t appear. With quick, shuffling steps, I turned some more, trying to make it hard for him to find a vulnerable spot. As I didn’t have a clear target, I couldn’t directly Charge at him.

  Searing with agony, hot and cold at the same time as his weapons pierced my back, my health plummeted… and I died.

  Chapter 29

  I came to through the haze of darkness, and in much pain. It was still night-time outside, and once more the birds and Tree showed their displeasure. Sadly, my elbow leaves had not warned me of the attack in advance—or maybe I’d been so distracted, I didn’t even notice when they did. They were wilted once again, and so was I.

  The next thing I saw, as my night-eyes adjusted, was all my gear strewn about me, all over the earthen floor of Tree. Pots, clothing, food, backpack, equipment… What the—? I started packing it up, thinking I was forgetting something, and then it hit me. My Bag of Holding was gone. Fucking asshat stole it!

  I got so mad then, I was in danger of hurting myself and Tree. I exited Tree’s heart-space and kicked at the earth, swearing and fuming and carrying on. None of it was coherent. Eventually, my thoughts of Tree calmed me down. She too was wilted, and had lost a couple more branches, her trunk looking more than a bit torn up… fucking terrible. If I kept going at this rate, I wasn’t sure if I would die before Tree. This was unacceptable.

  As I was still injured and more than a bit wobbly on my legs, shortly after my tantrum I crept back inside her trunk… and once the worst of the pain subsided, I slept. I spent the next two days waking, eating, and sleeping and waking, eating, and sleeping. It was hard to avoid thinking about Weasel Face, when I kept inventing wild and varied scenarios of revenge in my head. But what was I to do?

  I decided I would not go back to Geras for a while, but I really wanted to kill that dwarf.

  / You Have Died and Been Reborn / Respawn Point Found

  / 15% Experience lost from Level and all Skills /

  [Loss of level 22, now level 21, 94%]

  / Impairment Status /

  [Perforated Bowel (cauterised, repaired), Punctured lung (repaired 95%), -5% Health Reserved]

  / Divine Favour (skill) / 30 (43)

  Regain one point per day

  / Respawn chance permanently reduced from 87% to 74% /

  / Luck permanently reduced by 4 points /

  Status Update

  / Brotherhood of Shadow, Guild of Rogues / Disliked

  [Kill-on-sight orders removed]

  / Thrice Mugged by the same person / Isserad’s Luck

  / Isserad’s Chance / Do you wish to activate a challenge of luck against

  + Male Gold Dwarf +? / Accept Y / N

  The first notice hurt. It was shitty all around to get bumped back down to level 21, but at least I was at 94% and only had a short way to go until level 22 again. Divine Favour, my Respawn Chance and Luck had also all taken a hit. Again. I wasn’t sure what the last notification meant—Isserad’s Chance—but blinked on yes. Anything to get the upper hand.

  That prompted me to look up more details about bind points, or home.

  An adventurer can have only one respawn point, called “HOME.” A respawn point must be a place you frequent for rest, sleep, and relaxation. Some races and some classes have limited respawn point options (Wood Elves, Pixies, Dark-Elves, Dark Dwarfs, Priests, Monks), some races and classes have increased respawn point options (Humans—city-folk, Goblins, Burrow Dwarfs, Rogues). Protect your respawn point at all costs; tell no one of its location!

  Thinking about that, I started conceiving of ways to better protect my tree. There was also the possibility of replanting somewhere else, though it incurred some temporary losses… After packing my supplies into my only remaining back-pack, I belatedly found another folded note in my roll-up coin pouch.

  Meet me in Ell’Escow in five days time. Ten days max. Elz.

  Now, that was a surprise. And definitely odd. I wanted to kill that little shit-head thief too. Was this a trap, or something else? I had no way of knowing… but it certainly might be worth investigating. After mulling it over, eventually I decided to go to Ell’Escow—partly because it wasn’t so far away, but a
lso because I had friends there. Should anything go awry, I hoped I’d be safe enough. If possible, I’d head to the Eragdas ruins after that. I wondered if my horse was all right, or if Weasel-Face had stolen that too.

  Lugging my now heavy pack and weapons, I set out. Many of the rivers were still flooding from winter-melt, and so few travellers were about. I ate all my dried food, and made good time. It took me three days on foot.

  Arrival in Little Hill was effortless; I made no attempt at subterfuge, such as a disguise or trying stealth mode (I wasn’t that proficient anyway), and simply strode into town. I did try to take note if anything seemed odd or out of place—suspicious characters lurking about, that kind of thing. Other than a few houses looking like they’d had a fresh coat of paint, nothing looked much changed. It was a nice time of year, the weather starting to warm up, and spring flowers everywhere, adorning most of the houses, adding to the colour and sense of homely sweetness. This completely juxtaposed my mood, which I found irritating… and then realised I was being moody and petulant and tried to shake it off.

  When I entered Max’s store, the front bell did its usual tinkle and Max popped out from behind his counter.

  “Gaggle-deedee…” He stopped and looked me up and down. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Not the nicest greeting, so I tried to smile genuinely back. “Hi, Max. How are you?”

  “Can’t complain, can’t complain,” he replied. He folded his arms over his small chest. This day he was wearing a black and white pin-stripe suit, and despite his green skin, he looked quite stylish. His expression settled into something approximating neutrality, so I took that as a good sign.

  “Umm… look, Max, I need your help.”

  He blinked up at me a moment and then nodded curtly.

  “Have you seen a human teenager about town, or in your shop lately? Pale, skinny, black hair—oh, and burn scars on one side of his body and neck.”

  Max blinked in surprise, and nodded again. “Actually, I have.”

  “Oh, great.” I rubbed my hands together. Good luck! “Is there anything you know about him, anything you can tell me?”

  “I don’t know the kid. We don’t actually get too many humans in these parts. So he did kind of stand out. Came into the shop a couple of days ago, wanted to look at my climbing gear. He looked shifty, so I kept on him like a flea on a dog’s back. Third wife warned me when his fingers started twitching, looking at my magic rings…”

  “Third wife?” I couldn’t help asking.

  Max smirked a little evilly at me, tapping his long nose secretively. “Yes. Special early warning alarm.”

  I had no idea what that meant, so I left the comment alone.

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  He frowned in thought and slowly shook his head. “Not really. Kid has a weird voice? Oh, and I think he said he was staying up at the clothiers, Menisme…”

  Bingo! “Great, Max. I owe you one!”

  He laughed. “Really?”

  Thinking back to our previous fight over a debt, I gulped a moment. “Now, don’t be hasty…” I held up one hand, and he laughed again.

  “Go on with you, get out, if you’re not going to buy anything.” But he said it kindly enough, waving me out the door.

  I left in a bit of a hurry, ignoring Alhain, who spotted me from his forge, and marched up the road past the small markets.

  I fairly charged into Menisme’s shop and ran right into the skinny streak of misery coming out. I had my spear in one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other. He had a wicked looking dagger out in a flash, both of us menacing the other. Menisme, the kind little old elf lady, was up the back, her mouth open in an O of surprise.

  Elz was trying to pop his arm out of my grip, but I held fast. He was also trying to turn his head to look at Menisme. Realising I was being a bit stupid—what was I going to do, kill him in public?—I slid the spear in my grip and put the haft on the floor, then let his wrist go.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  He looked back at Menisme once, and she nodded, so he turned to me and nodded also.

  “Yes... Elz will.”

  He had a voice that somehow reminded me of a crow—scratchy and raw, like bloody murder. It was not a voice to inspire trust. Nevertheless, I decided to take his words at face value.

  Menisme motioned us to come through her shop, and took us out into a small garden courtyard that adjoined her main house. She had a couple of wooden benches here, so Elz and I sat on one each, not too close.

  “After all that excitement, I think a cup of tea is in order, eh?” she said to the air, as we were both looking intently at eachother in combined nervousness and determination. The kid had fierce little gimlet eyes, let me tell you. Elz nodded vaguely in her direction.

  Elz was wearing what looked to be much the same outfit as I’d seen before—ratty looking boots and trousers, but now also a rough woollen shirt, ripped at the elbows. He had a couple of long knives attached to a belt at his waist, both with jagged, hooked teeth along one edge.

  “So tell me, what’s this about?” I asked, trying to reserve judgment.

  “Elz…” He paused and rubbed at his face. “It’s complicated.”

  I blinked a moment. “Start at the beginning?”

  “I… no, too long. Elz… I need help.” He looked down at his toes a moment. It seemed he didn’t like saying that. It also sounded like he’d been told to say it—like he was rehearsing lines, trying to be polite.

  “Look, mate, I find this real odd. First you say not a word to me when we meet. Or to Marcus, for that matter. Then you watch as I’m killed. Then you steal from Ligan and his crew. Now you’re asking for help. It’s not ideal, not from where I’m standing. And now you can’t even spit it out.”

  He looked up at me sullenly. “You’re sitting.”

  “It’s an expression.” I folded my arms over my chest, not budging an inch.

  “Not going to work,” he muttered, “Yentik na fezzika.” He made to get up, but then Menisme was there pushing him back down.

  “Elz. You promised. No running off.” She just stood there until he’d subsided. He could probably knock her over with one little push, but obviously he didn’t dare. At least there was one person here he would defer to. “The tea is heating, so I’ll get that for you shortly. Then this old lady is going go back to the shop and finish some work. You two are not to leave until everything is said and done. Understood?” She glared at the both of us. “And this goes for you too…” She poked me in the shoulder with one bony finger. “You hear Elz out, and wait till he’s finished before you jump to any conclusions.”

  I nodded meekly, as did Elz. I almost grinned, until I remembered what he’d done. I’d hear him out; didn’t mean I’d help. She shuffled off to get the tea and returned with it, placing it on a small stone table to the side. I sat there, silently waiting. Eventually I just drank some tea, while Elz looked down at his boots.

  “All right, so tell me, why should I trust you?” I relented and spoke first.

  “I nicked their lockbox,” he quickly replied.

  “What? The dwarf’s stash?”

  “Wha? No… kind of. The brotherhood’s lockbox.” He looked up at me as if expecting me to get it.

  “What?” I still didn’t understand.

  Elz tried again. “Ingriss was coming—”

  “Who?”

  “The one you call Weasel-Face.” Now he was frowning at me like I was stupid.

  “Oh, right. Ingriss.” So that was his name. “And?”

  “He was coming back to Argngung.” I had no idea what that was but didn’t interrupt this time. “So I didn’t have much time to decide. I also overheard two brotherhood bosses talking, and they said… Actually, first they promised me to help clear the elf ruins. So I showed them… But a while later I heard them saying big boss told them to keep Elz away. They’re planning to make a deal with the necromancer. So I stole their lockbox and threw away
the key. Now Elz is here, looking for help.”

  Shit. Now that was crap news for me. Really crap. But I had to ask, “The necromancer?”

  “Yes. Old elf. Face like a goat’s ass.” He made a face himself, imitating someone with serious constipation.

  “You’ve seen him… it, before?”

  “Yes. Twice.”

  Damn, this kid was a goldmine of information—if I could make sense of it somehow. “And where is the creature now?”

  Elz shrugged. “Maor? Don’t rightly know. On holiday?” Shit. “I thought you knew?”

  “About the necromancer?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded abruptly.

  “Only in theory. Never seen the creature, though it’s nice to have it confirmed by you.”

  “Oh. I wondered. And you got its name wrong,” he said, back to frowning again.

  “What?”

  “It’s not Exxator…”

  “Oh, I made that up.” My head was spinning, so I massaged my sore temples.

  “Its name is Elabrille Achanor,” he offered.

  “It’s male? Or was?”

  He nodded and shrugged disinterestedly.

  “Sounds like a girl’s name.”

  “It’s an elf,” he said, as if that explained it.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let me get this straight. If I understand correctly, you basically went to this thieves guild, the brotherhood, to get their help to what? Kill this necromancer? Talk to it?”

  “Kill it, for sure. Forever dead, never to return. Dead, deceased, destroyed…”

  “Okay, okay, I get the point… you really want it dead.” Something was stirring in my mind, a memory. “But why is that so important…?”

  “Elz’s family business,” he said, and then clamped his mouth shut in a tight line.

  “You mean Jayvar and his daughter and grandchildren?”

  He looked at his boots a moment, hunching over a little, then took a deep breath. “No, not… other family. Don’t want to talk about it.”