by M J Sweeney
Thinking about that, I pulled out some of the elemental traps I had bought from Max. Fire, frost, and shock. These might come in handy too. We had just over twenty of them, so they’d be good for a few nasty surprises.
We exited for the day and reported back to Sacheen and his men. So far, no sightings. That evening, I looked over the newly looted gear, particularly the cleaver and staff, and one ring we had collected. Initially, my Identify didn’t work. It took three tries (on all items at once) before I could read each of the three item’s statistics:
/ Unholy Staff of Minions / Rare Hickory
[+5% Mana, Cure Undead +1, 5m Radius (1550 Mana)]
/ Ever-Sharp Cleaver of Carving / Rare Steel
[+10% Damage, +10 Skinning and Cooking]
/ Ring of Stealth / Rare Platinum
[+5% Fade Duration, +5% Fade Effectiveness, +5 Hide]
We decided to sell the staff to Max, and Elz would keep the ring and cleaver, as both were handy for him.
/ Cordaen Sequoia / Level 30 Warrior-Priest /
STR 25
INT 39
AGI 50
VIT 48
CHA 32
LCK 22
Health: 1440 (+50%)
Mana: 897 (+15%)
Stamina: 960
After more careful thinking, I stuck with my earlier plan, and didn’t allocate any new active or passive abilities—I wanted to upgrade the ones I already had, once I gained level 40. It was painful to wait, and I had to trust that this was the right decision—better a few useful abilities at level 3 and 4 (eventually) rather than a bunch of abilities at level 1 and 2.
Chapter 36
One week before the first day of Bourndas, we had visitors. And not the welcome kind. Sacheen first alerted us by throwing rocks into the open main corridor of the ruins—Elz and I had just finished killing the spirits on the upper level, and were toeing misplaced cursed loot back into place. When a small rock bounced off my head, I whirled around looking for more undead; and when it happened a second time, I whirled again, glaring at Elz… but he was chuckling and pointing back up the stairs.
We left with a quick march, and when I spotted Sacheen at the top of the stairs, and his worried expression, we both picked up the pace. After exiting, I commanded the large entrance doors shut, and we quickly ran back towards Sacheen’s northern camp. It was actually nestled well above the ruins, on the hill which overlooked them, and which the entrance butted into. The camp was hidden amongst a thick, forested section of oak trees—and not easy to climb up the hill to get to it. Up above, we had a great view, and little chance of discovery.
“They’re approaching from the northwest road; looks like they came from Geras.”
Elz and I shared a nod. It had seemed the most likely scenario when we’d discussed the different possibilities. Whatever team the brotherhood had sent, they had first done some jobs in Geras, and in order to be on time for Bourndas, shortly left after the Festival of Masks to come here. I was kind of bothered that someone in the brotherhood seemed to have figured out when the necromancer would arrive. Even though it seemed like that was a confirmation—how certain could I be?—it was annoying that someone else also knew. I’d hoped to keep that secret all to myself.
“Renniti says there’s about twenty of them, including some guards and camp women, and also plenty of mules and horses.”
“Camp women?” Elz asked.
“Whores, it looks like,” Sacheen bluntly replied. “Half-elves too, as pure-bloods don’t last too long at that sport, eh?” Despite that Sacheen was a pure-blood himself, he didn’t seem offended or bothered by the idea, though Sacheen definitely wasn’t a typical high elf. He said he preferred the company of the earth and trees to people—partly why the two of us got along. He was also blunt and plainspoken for an elf.
As our scouts had spied the enemy some distance away, it took them a further two days to get here. Meanwhile, Elz and I prepared and made our presence here relatively undetectable—or so we hoped. Even if the brotherhood discovered the presence of some of the scouts, the lads were under orders to claim they were hunters patrolling the area for game from one of the closest villages. Nothing was that close, in fact, but we didn’t think the rogues would bother checking.
When they did arrive they set up camp by my old tree—the large oak—and didn’t bother searching further. They pitched a few canvas tents, corralled the mules and horses further to the south, and got to work. We had done our best, under Sacheen’s supervision, to clear the area of our presence—tracks, leftover weapons, supplies that I’d previously stored at the fisherman’s hut. We’d actually smashed a couple of walls there to make the place look less solid and lived in, and to deter the brotherhood from camping there.
Fortunately, they didn’t bother searching much beyond the immediate area around the ruins. Once they set up camp near the tree they seemed determined to stay put. The guards simply guarded—there were only three of them, and each had different overlapping watches. As for the three female cooks… Sacheen was right, each of those appeared to be half-elves. Two of them were quite young, I might add. They seemed to double as cooks, cleaners, and bed-mates for the brotherhood. None seemed too badly treated at least, from what I could tell from this distance. It would have been nice to rescue them—if they even wanted rescuing—but we couldn’t afford that right now. Both Elz and Sacheen seemed indifferent to the suffering of these women. I found the burden of guilt on this lay with me, which was… not great. When did I start developing this kind of conscience?
Basically there were about sixteen rogues—or adventurers, rather, as a few appeared to be warriors—plus a female half-elf with bright red hair: the half-elf Lilac, Hagard’s first sidekick. Most of the rest were human; a couple were half-elves. There also appeared to be one healer, in scruffy leather armour, the only full elf. Lastly, fortune of fortunes, was a familiar looking weasel-faced dwarf.
We’d been peering at the camp and the activity through Sacheen’s long-eye—an old-fashioned, yet effective pirate’s telescope, that folded up neatly, much like the oh-shit. When I first saw Sacheen using it, I had been jealous—I now wanted one for myself, and sadly Max had already left, so I couldn’t order it until later. So now we all took turns.
“What’s that?” Sacheen was murmuring as he peered through the device. “A prisoner?”
From this distance, I couldn’t see much with my bare eyes, so I waited patiently until Sacheen handed it to me. Nothing worse than grabbing someone else’s gear while they were using it… or not asking for permission. I was also trying to lead by example, so Elz could see that patience was one way to get what you wanted, and less hassle later. As it was, he was bouncing on his toes, trying to reach for the spyglass before his turn.
“Looks like a he,” I said as I looked. “And an elf?” Sacheen murmured his assent. “Tied up hands and feet. Seems odd, no?”
I relented and gave Elz the spyglass. “Yes,” he said, as he found the range. “It’s ’nelf… looks… wait…” I could see his Adam’s apple gulping. “Fuckers!” He promptly dropped the spyglass and began scrambling madly down the side of the hill.
“Elz, wait!” I made to go after him, but Sacheen restrained me, grabbing one arm. “Let him go. If he gets caught, better one than two…”
I looked at him, then looked after Elz, who shortly disappeared out of view. “Shit!” I fumed a moment, but relented and took a deep breath.
Renniti was looking at us; he and the other scouts had been lounging around, so he motioned as if to go after Elz, but I slowly shook my head. Sacheen was right. Better to wait and see what happened.
Sacheen calmly handed me the spyglass, which he had picked up. “Let’s watch from here.”
The rogues split into two groups. The first group was mostly made up of the younger-looking fellows—a group of eight, which shortly began fighting the risen skeletons. It looked like they were just going to farm items and level up, much as Elz and I had been doin
g. The others, including Ingriss, Lilac, the guards, and the camp women, stayed at the camp and didn’t do so much. One guard briefly checked on the prisoner, who was sitting propped up against the base of the tree. At one point, I could see Elz skulking along the outer perimeter of the ruins, and then he disappeared from view, fading from sight once he got closer to their camp.
Then nothing much happened for a while. Sacheen and I waited for over an hour, swapping the spyglass, but little changed. The group fighting the risen had the healer with them, as they didn’t have to retreat at all, their wounds miraculously repairing.
Eventually I heard rustling from the trees behind us, and Elz appeared out of the foliage. Deciding it was best not to reprimand him for running off, I just raised both hands.
“Is…” he paused, gulping, and looked close to tears. He held his hands stiffly by his sides, but his fingers were twitching uncontrollably again. “Boss, it’s Jayvar, my grandpa…”
His adopted grandfather. “Shit!” I swore. “Damn…” I looked at Sacheen, who shook his head sympathetically.
“What… how?” I asked.
Elz shrugged and kicked at a rock. “They probably figger Elz steal the loot, and so I’m a liable…” he stumbled over the word.
“A liability… and a risk.”
He nodded curtly, gesturing wildly in his frustration and helplessness.
“They must know you ran off, and they know you want to kill the necromancer. This is insurance. Fuck.”
“I don’t like this game now…” At first I thought he was implying the world itself, but then I realised he was remembering our wordplay from some days ago. And the game of fighting the brotherhood.
“It’s not all bad…” Sacheen was saying.
“What?” I looked at him incredulously.
“They have a prisoner. But we have the knowledge. They’re not harming him right now, and we know right where he is. Now you just gotta figure how to get him out, and… complete your other tasks.” Sacheen smiled grimly. “Difficult, maybe, but not impossible.”
I really liked this guy. He was a realist, and thought in very practical terms. “Break it down…” I said, and rubbed my face in thought, trying to ease a growing headache. “Yeah. Two groups, divide and conquer… Elz?”
Elz was back near the edge of our cover, looking through the spyglass.
“Not good,” he was murmuring, “Grzbloks yentik kazzika. Fr kangangaz ez tudo mar!” I think that was more dizzini he was muttering—goblin. “Couldn’t get close enough, plus too many… not good!”
“Elz! Listen, it’s not all bad. We’ll get Jayvar out, I promise.”
One thing I was grateful for was that it was Jayvar and not his daughter or one of the younger girls. The old elf could probably handle it, even a bit of physical abuse, but the young ones? Not a nice thought.
Once Elz’s attention was fully back with me, I slapped his shoulder lightly. “Focus. We can do this… let’s make some cool rescue plans, eh?”
He nodded, the fire slowly coming back into his eyes.
The first group of eight rogues stayed above ground, farming items and basically levelling up that whole afternoon. Elz, Sacheen, and I shared multiple looks of frustration while we discussed a few alternate strategies. If they kept this up, we’d be stuck up here for weeks, bored out of our minds. I was also getting tired of the unwashed stink. And not just my own. A bunch of men camping and unable to wash properly became very unpleasant very quickly. Not to mention all my clothes needed washing and repairing. At least my new armour was holding up well so far.
The second group, who seemed to consist of the stronger fighters, included Ingriss, Lilac, a big guy with chain mail and a broadsword—a warrior type—as well as a few more rogues I didn’t recognise. They mostly just sat around relaxing or entering one of the tents with the camp followers. Lilac appeared to be the only female adventurer; the rest were male. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head, watching the men take a woman whenever they wanted.
The beginning of Bourndas was rapidly approaching, and Elz’s twitchy anxiety was rubbing off on all of us. After three days of this, they seemed to be preparing to venture inside. Now it was show time. Or guile time.
Both Sacheen and Elz had fairly good fade ability, as did Sacheen’s brother Renniti. Sacheen was level 34 and Elz was now level 38, and I was sitting on a respectable level 33. Most of the rest of our scouts were between level 20 and 30, so they had been taking turns spying on the main group.
Elz, with his identify ability, assured me most of the first group of rogues were similar—between levels 20 and 30, and the rest were mostly around level 40, including Ingriss. It was nice to finally have a bit of a handle on that fucker.
As it was, considering they had the numbers on us, plus the levels and some unpredictable elements—what abilities did their mage and healer have?—I thought we had little chance for a head-on confrontation. No suicidal frontal attacks. Besides, that would have put Jayvar at an unacceptable level of risk. We had the element of surprise in our favour; we knew the ground very well, plus we had opportunity for divide and conquer.
The larger group of rogues had a talk with their leaders, and what appeared to be a long argument—I really wished I could be close enough to hear that conversation. Instead, I just waited.
Eventually, Elz reported back from his spying: the first group was going to enter shortly, and without Ingriss’s help. He’d basically said if they couldn’t survive the first level, given that the undead up top were so easy for them, then they didn’t deserve to be in the brotherhood. Perhaps it was a rough sort of training—do or die—but not the best method of teaching in my mind. Besides, I knew that guy was a vindictive asshole.
This suited me fine. As it was, we had to rush down the hill, me and Elz, keeping well away from the view of those down below. Fortunately, they were taking their time, and preparing such things as weapons, armour, packs, lanterns and other equipment. The approach through the side of the ruins was completely out of view of Ingriss’s camp—between the trees and the ruin walls, we were well out of sight and out of mind. Sacheen and his scouts stayed to watch Ingriss’s group, and were also planning an extra sortie, depending what happened next with Elz and I. For now, they were to do very little, and simply try to warn us if Ingriss tried to enter the dungeon behind us.
I had not faded by using my new cloak, as it only had five charges. Better for emergencies only, though I wasn’t sure if this qualified yet. Elz had warned me that I should at least use one charge in order to get used to the fade, as he claimed the first experience could be disorienting. Sacheen had confirmed this, but I resisted. To myself I had to admit I was a bit scared to even try it.
Nevertheless, there we were, sneaking in after a bunch of rogues. Elz was slightly ahead of me when he faded. We’d experimented with some aspects of this a few days ago, and despite his earlier reservations, Elz had discovered that the cursed (and presently invisible) spirits did not bother him in the fade. The rogues, however, were all visible as they entered—clearly they knew of the negative ramifications of fading in proximity to such creatures.
Making use of this advantage, I took a deep breath and activated my cloak. I held the edges of the soft silk about me, and aligned with its essence, allowing the spell to take effect. It took little effort, as I felt my physical-self merging with the space that lies in between all matter. Like an amorphous cloud of non-being, my body was now not quite here, and not quite there.
Instantly I started to feel feverish. My nerve endings tingled and throbbed painfully, wanting to reject whatever the hell I was doing. I persisted and took one careful step after the other down into the ruins. I could see Elz’s shadow form ahead of me. I wasn’t sure if that was usual.
And then I could see the undead spirits.
Now they appeared fully clothed. In this dimension—this flat, jagged, two-dimensional space—everything appeared to be in muted, sepia tones. The spirits were a
ll elves: male, female, young and old, casually going about their daily tasks, dressed in their regular day-to-day wear, oblivious to us. There seemed to be many of them, much more than could actually live in the ruins. I wondered if they’d actually had a village above ground originally. If so, there was no sign of it now.
Gradually, the feeling of fever-sickness passed. The party ahead of us was taking it slow, checking the initial rooms, and carefully gauging for traps and hidden areas. They had their healer towards the back, and one main fighter in chain mail towards the front, with each of the rogues taking turns to scout ahead and test their skills.
We waited until they’d explored both the dining room and circular garden rooms, and then we got ready. Like me, one rogue had a couple of thin canes he was using to test the walls and floor, and when the scything trap came down, barely missing his nose, he shrieked and jumped back as one cane snapped in two. The others all laughed, but then got busy checking the area in finer detail. Shame he wasn’t cleaved in two, I thought, bloodthirsty and vengeful as I was. They found the pressure plate, and one rogue was picked to stand on that. The rest moved on down the corridor.
As I was waiting back by the entrance with no light, they became hazy the further they went from me, the light from their lanterns flickering ominously. Elz stayed with the main group. I allowed my first fade to disperse—it had only been draining a small portion of my mana, as I had stood still for most of it. The mundane-looking spirits disappeared from view as I gratefully returned to reality. I was careful not to scratch my itchy face and spoil the surprise. As the group got closer to the junction at the very end, I had to wait a bit more until they talked about what they were doing. Their voices were quiet and muffled, I couldn’t make out the conversation.
When I heard the full set of seven blade traps going off and another couple of exclamations, I almost laughed out loud, but abruptly stopped myself. There was one rogue not far from me, still standing on a pressure plate. He was peering and leaning forward too, trying to make out what was going on with the others. So far he hadn’t been looking around much, and certainly not back to me up on the stairs. It was unlikely he could see me properly anyway.