by C. M. Carney
“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 somewhere 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.
“I have no idea who or what that is.”
Murmurs of doubt flowed through the crowd. Lassendir held his gaze and Gryph felt as he had every time the Colonel had stared into his eyes when he was a boy, a boy who had just lied, a boy who was very aware that he could not pass any lie by his father. It’s a good thing I am not lying now, Gryph thought.
“Then explain how you came by these items and why you brought them here?” Lassendir said, barely reigning in his anger.
Gryph took a deep breath and told the Regent the tale of the Barrow, his battle with the arboleth, the quest he was given to harvest the eggs, even his death at Ovyrm’s hands.
“You died?” Lassendir said and glanced sideways at Myrthendir. “So, what they say about players is true. You are immortal?”
“I do not know My Lord. I know that I died, and that I returned, but I do not know if it will always be so, or if there is a limit to that ability. I am new to the Realms and there is much I do not understand. That is, in part, why I took the eggs. I had no knowledge of the pain the vile creatures they contain had brought to this world, and the quest I received suggested that they could craft powerful defenses.”
“Or bring about great destruction,” Lassendir countered.
“They also mentioned that,” Gryph said reluctantly. More murmurs, these distinctly angrier filed the chamber, but the Steward raised his hand and the room grew silent.
“And the seal?”
“It was part of the reward for cleansing the Barrow and killing its master,” Gryph said.
More rumblings.
“The Barrow is far from here,” Myrthendir said.
“And your tale does not explain how you found your way into this valley. It is shrouded by powerful and ancient magics. There is no way in or out that we do not have guarded,” Barrendiel said.
“We came through a portal, an ancient archway of stone. It brought us to the woods beyond the Serpentine. Not long after we were attacked by those corrupted beasts,” Gryph said.
“Impossible,” Barrendiel said.
“My cousin speaks true,” Myrthendir said and gazed at his father. “The ancient portal gateways have long lain dormant, and the Icons used to power and access them were long ago lost.”
Lassendir looked from Gryph to his companions and every one of them stared back, letting the Regent see the truthfulness of the claim. “You have many explanations and excuses player, and I sense you bring a great change,” the Regent said, his hand stroking the cover of the book. “But I sense no deceit in you.”
“Uncle?” Barrendiel said, anger bubbling into him. “You cannot take this man at his word.” The ranger took a step onto the lowest step of the dais and Lassendir’s eyes snapped to his nephew’s and the powerful warrior stopped and lowered his head.
Lassendir returned his gaze to Gryph. “You, and your companions, have proven the truthfulness of your words, so I am inclined to spare you, all of you.” He looked at Wick and Ovyrm “From the punishment the old laws demand.”
Wick visibly relaxed and Ovyrm bowed his head in thanks, but Gryph suspected that the other shoe was about to drop. The glance that Tifala gave to Wick confirmed that she too was worried.
One ranger carried a large form wrapped in a tarp up the steps and placed it between the Regent and Gryph. He peeled back the layers of oiled cloth to reveal one of the corrupted wolves the rangers had slain with their massive volley of arrows.
“But there is the matter of this corruption,” Lassendir said and stood, walking towards the wolf corpse. “Somehow the corruption infected the Blighted Ruins just as you appeared. Can you explain that?”
Gryph exchanged looks with his companions and saw the deep worry bubbling just underneath Wick’s calm exterior. Gryph turned his gaze back to the Regent. “I cannot.”
“It is the work of this demon sorcerer,” Barrendiel said, pointing at Wick.
"Quit blaming everything on me," Wick whined.
Lassendir crouched down, hovering a hand over the corrupted wolf. Gasps and warning of "My Lord” rippled through the tower as the ancient elf touched the dead creature’s fur. He grimaced as if in pain as he ran his hand along the length of the beast, and Gryph saw a pulsating light the color of magma flow through the body.
“This is no chthonic corruption,” Lassendir said. “It is the taint of chaos.”
Gasps filled the room. Gryph saw the shock on both Tifala and Ovyrm’s face. It shocked even the ever-stalwart Steward. “Are you sure my Lord?”
“I am,” the Regent said and for a moment Gryph could see the burden of innumerable centuries weigh the elf down.
“But, that is impossible,” the Steward said, the shock and fear in the stalwart man’s voice digging into Gryph’s soul.
“Apparently not,” Lassendir said and stood. He swayed and Myrthendir rushed forward to give his father support. “Somehow the Princes of Chaos have punctured the veil between their realm and ours. We must find the source of the corruption and seal the breach.”
Lassendir eyed Gryph. “You will give us access to your bag and hand over the Seal of the Dwarven King and the arboleth eggs.”
The Regent’s intensity and Sillendriel’s warning flashed through Gryph's mind again. He took a deep breath and gulped down a bit of rising bile. How do I know the elf woman speaks true? Gryph thought, and though he had no evidence to back up her beliefs, he somehow knew she spoke the truth. He stood tall and placed his hands behind his bac
k.
“I am sorry, but I cannot do as you ask.”
Lassendir’s lips turned to a frown.
“Have you lost your mind?” Wick said, shock filling his voice. “They’ll kill us all and take the bag.”
Gryph looked into Wick’s eyes. What he said next was not meant for the gnome who had become his friend, but for the man who held all their lives in his hands. “Perhaps, but I am a player and my bag is soul bound. Nobody can open it without my permission. If I am killed I will respawn, far from here, and the bag will respawn with me.”
“You bastard,” Wick growled and launched himself at Gryph. Ovyrm grabbed the gnome by the arm arresting his attack. The xydai’s eyes were hard as steel as they fell on Gryph and he knew the warrior monk agreed with Wick’s sentiments.
Barrendiel walked up to Gryph and spoke to his Regent. “My Regent, Uncle, you have the power to compel this man to give us the seal. Take it by force and let us open the ancient Thalmiir city.”
“You cannot be serious?” Myrthendir asked, a tremor of shock tainting the Prince Regent’s visage.
Barrendiel turned on his cousin. “I have never been more serious. We all know the legends. The Thalmiir left fantastic weapons locked away in Dar Thoriim, and now this stranger shows up with the key to the ancient gates just as the taint of chaos returns to the Realms. It cannot be a coincidence. We need the ancient weapons to defeat the corruption. It is as simple as that.”
“You cannot know what you say, young ranger,” Lassendir said, hunched and almost in pain as the Steward helped him ease back down into his chair. “The Thalmiir did not seal their ancient city to hoard their wealth, but to protect all the Realms from a terrifying power they lost control of.”
“Pah,” Barrendiel spat. “Old wives tales designed to scare children. We must use the seal to protect not only ourselves, but all the Realms. No threat hidden in the Thalmiir city could be more ruinous than an invasion from the realms of chaos.”