by Daniel Heck
Horse manure!
“Back off!” you growl, your cheeks flushing.
Helmina halts as well and retreats a couple steps but keeps her eyes locked on you. A tense pause ensues.
“And if I don’t?” she asks.
Without a word, you draw your dagger.
She laughs even as she raises her hands in supplication and says, “Ha! ‘Cause that’ll solve everything!”
You continue glaring at her, blade pointed and at the ready.
After another moment, her grin disappears. She glances to her side, as you see fear start to tinge her brow.
“All right, all right. Guess we’re done here.”
Helmina hastily resumes her eastward journey, looking over her shoulder multiple times as she plods.
Cruel old hag!
Trying not to jump to conclusions about the being’s intentions, yet watching the silhouette carefully for any sudden moves, you stay sitting on your stump and wait silently.
The man approaches slowly, to the edge of the firelight, some of which seems to go right through it. Many moments of silence pass, during which you’d swear at least a few embers flying from the fire should have caught the man’s robe aflame.
Then, he says in even tones, “Thomerion shall prevail.”
You blink, as fear bubbles up in your chest. You summon patience, your natural curiosity overriding anything negative.
After all, you remind yourself, if he were to try anything funny, we could easily outnumber him.
“Do you think you can stop the god of destruction?”
You stand, but still say nothing.
Do I dare answer?
“For ten years his servants have toiled,” the man continues. “Nay, dozens. Hundreds. Yet his alienation at the hands of the creators shall not stand the test of time. It shall be driven into each and every one of your graves, to be remembered as readily as your pathetic lives will be forgotten.”
You feel his gaze boring into your very soul.
He raises a hand, and slowly closes it into a fist.
“Interfere, and you will see no end to his wrath.”
“But…”
You only get the one word out before the man turns and runs off the path, into the depths of the woods.
Concerned for your well-being as well as those of your friends, not to mention that time seems to already be running out for Ambrosinia as a whole, you wake the others. Despite their groggy protests, you urge them to make do and move forward with what energy they have.
Thomerion’s possessed will not wait, and does not care whether it is night or day.
You stop walking, smile sadistically at Helmina and say, “So good to see you too.”
She raspberries and waves off the sarcasm. “Oh, don’t give me that crap. So, you’re headed back to the capital, eh? Gonna desecrate another innocent member of the clergy while yer at it?”
“Look, wench,” you hiss, “I’m on an important mission here, so if you don’t mind…”
“I very much do mind,” she interrupts, “why else do you think I spilled the beans about you two?”
“Did you have to go directly to the bishop? If I weren’t the decent person you pretended to be for so long, I’d…”
“You’d what? Put me in my place? Lock me up? You no longer have that authority. Remember?”
“Quit interrupting me!” you shout.
Helmina crosses her arms but says nothing more. A tense pause ensues.
“Just admit it, Helmina,” you seethe, approaching to within a foot of her repulsive face, “You were jealous.”
Her jaw nearly hits the ground. With exaggerated defiance she replies, “By the gods, no. Just because he was handsome, and kind, and brave…. And, all the things you’d want in a fully human male, if you’re into those sorts of people… I…”
She tells a different story, but her eyes, nearly bursting with tears, tell you all the truth you wanted to know. She stares at you and starts to shake, until you can’t help but finally soften your demeanor a bit.
Helmina takes your hands in hers. “You were so lucky to know him,” she continues, “And I… I didn’t know how to express what I felt, so I…”
“Became a bully?” you accuse, raising an eyebrow.
She nods slowly.
“I understand what jealousy is like,” you admit, “as I used to protect Bartleby from the attentions of anyone we’d come across. He was mine. And maybe that was a bit possessive of me, you know. But, that doesn’t justify…”
“I know.”
Helmina starts to cry. Pity rises within you. You pull her toward you, let her rest her head on your chest and pat her shoulder.
She looks up at you. “How can I make it up to you?”
You think for a moment, then smile and look her in the eye. You speak with as much calm and centeredness as you can muster.
“Helmina, if you really mean to make it up to me, when you get a chance, head back to Whitetail and make a donation to the church of the sun. I don’t care how much, and it doesn’t even need to be money. You can offer time and energy if you like. But the greatest thing you could do right now is to show that you are capable of giving.”
She nods, wipes her eyes, and smiles back. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”
“My sincere thanks.”
“Can… we ever be friends again?”
This takes you aback. A long pause ensues.
“That,” you reply, “may take more time.”
Helmina nods soberly, turns and plods toward the capital. You watch her, letting her jaunt a considerable space ahead as the bittersweet moment slowly fades, then resume your journey.
Write down the keyword FRIEND.
Do people really change?
Figuring that it’s possible some adventurer put these here to help others coming through the area, you gingerly grip the wheel and spin again. It starts to slow down almost immediately…
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes
of the current time, then follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 1, 2, 8 or 9.
That digit is 0, 3 or 7.
That digit is 4 or 6.
That digit is 5.
You return to the main chamber, where you re-evaluate your options.
I enter the ascending passage after all.
I examine the door.
I test the key in the door.
Figuring that it’s possible some adventurer put these here to help others coming through the area, you gingerly grip the wheel and spin again. It starts to slow down almost immediately…
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 1, 2, 3, or 9.
That digit is 4, 5, or 6.
That digit is 7 or 8.
That digit is 0.
You watch at rapt attention as the wheel slows. You arch an eyebrow as the section on which the key sat before stops in front of you once again. The entire wheel glows red briefly.
Hrm…. It seems like it shut down.
You grip the wheel by the edge one more time to test the theory. Indeed, when you try to move it, the wheel won’t budge.
Indeed.
That’s all she wrote…
Figuring that at least the intriguing scroll and the boots you acquired might go hand-in-hand, you summon even more courage and spin the wheel again, with fervor.
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 1, 2, or 3.
That digit is 4 or 5.
That digit is 6 or 7.
That digit is 0, 8 or 9.
Figuring that the better prepared you are with special items, the more likely you will be able to handle what
lies beyond the door, you summon even more courage and spin the wheel again, with fervor.
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 7, 8 or 9.
That digit is 5 or 6.
That digit is 3 or 4.
That digit is 0, 1 or 2.
As you scratch your head and feel panic rising at the inconvenient timing of Fedwick’s lapse in memory, you decide to take a stab in the dark, and instruct the dwarf to chant the exorcism prayer four times and only four times.
Fedwick shrugs, accepting your decision. He clears his throat and coughs twice before taking a deep breath. In long bass tones, he recites in an ancient dwarven dialect:
“Bonshan ere du Voltra kahn…
Bonshan ere du Voltra kahn!
Bonshan ere du Voltra kahn!!
BONSHAN ERE DU VOLTRA KAHN!”
Watching and listening to the spectacle, it seemed to you that the dwarf just getting going, starting to move his hands and gather mystical energy around them, when he abruptly stopped. You think to direct him to tack on another repetition or even more, but by now a semblance of fear crosses even his eyes, let alone your own. Bartleby’s body has started to glow with an eerie purple aura, as if the spirit within fights its newfound bounds.
Soon thereafter, there, the glow calms, and the body returns to its barely controlled, motionless state.
“How much longer will the paralysis hold?” Celestine asks.
You ignore this and focus on a bigger problem. “Nothing seemed to happen, Fedwick. You need to try again… this time with…”
Just then, Bartleby’s body jerks and sways; its eyes open as Thomerion regains control. You have missed your window of opportunity. The three of you turn and run for your lives, only to be blasted in the back of the head by a triplicate ray of energy, never to traverse or enjoy Ambrosinia again.
Don’t let evil win! Go back to the previous choice, or start again from the beginning.
Almost disbelieving your own persistence, you spin the wheel yet another time. The odds by now are greatest that it will land on an empty space, and yet as the wheel slows, here comes the scroll, practically begging you to pick it up and read it…
The scroll ends facing you. It and the section of wheel it sits upon glow blue briefly. You snatch the parchment from its place and dance a few steps, as your excitement at having cleared the wheel pours out of every sinew.
Now, the entire wheel glows red.
Not that it needs to tell me to leave it alone…
You undo the string around the scroll and examine it. It contains only one word.
Write down the keyword SCROLL, if you haven’t already.
Return to the main chamber.
You watch as the wheel slows. You cross your arms and grumble as the section on which the key sat before lands in front of you once again. The entire wheel glows red briefly. You grip the wheel by the edge one more time. When you try to move it, the wheel won’t budge.
No more. Shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth…
You return to the main chamber, where you ponder, I’ve at least seen everything there is to see by now… It’s time to try unlocking this door.
You approach and carefully insert the key into the keyhole. You take a deep breath. Standing as far out of the way as you can, just in case, you turn the key.
Without your needing to pull on the handle, the door swings open by a few inches, propelled by its own weight and a strange breeze coming from the other side.
Phew!
But what lies beyond?
Your head spins, and you feel like you ought to someday spend time with the local high-rollers, such is your luck. You remind yourself, though, that you would need to get out of here alive first.
So, why not give myself as much help as possible?
You fervently spin the wheel yet again. Knowing you’d be happy if it landed on an empty space, nevertheless the boots come around and around… the gears creak and… finally…
The boots face you when the wheel stops. They and the section of wheel they sit upon glow blue briefly. You pick up the boots with confidence and shimmy for a moment, as your excitement at having cleared the wheel floods your soul.
Now, the entire wheel glows red.
It must have locked, now that I have everything that looks useful.
You step toward a large stone, remove your own footwear and try on the boots. By some miracle, they’re a perfect fit. You feel a magical energy flow from them into your legs and feet, granting extra agility and speed.
My goodness!
Return to the main chamber.
Despite your inner voice urging you to leave good enough alone, you spin the wheel one more time. In the few seconds it takes to start slowing down, the inner voice morphs into a sinking feeling of dread, as the section with the skull creaks closer and closer. Your feet urge you to move… so that maybe it doesn’t point at you when it…
The wheel stops. Panic floods you. You unwittingly gaze straight into the eyes of the humanoid skull, which flash with red flame. It rises from the column. Its jaw flapping wildly, it cackles and charges at you, straight through the air. You dive to the side, but it is too fast. You feel a burning sensation as the skull crushes your chest, then dissolves into the rest of your body, melting muscle and bone alike until even your greedy memory floats among all that is left of you: a revolting pool of elven blood and entrails.
Cruel fate has taken your life! Go back to the beginning of the cavern, or start again entirely.
You feel a slight dizziness all over again, yet still stand frozen as the turning plate slows… and slows some more…
The wheel stops with the section holding the scroll facing you. The tattered roll of parchment glows blue for a moment, then just sits there. You reach forward and gingerly attempt to raise it. Its magical bond has broken; nothing holds it down. You undo the string tying the scroll, then examine it.
Oddly, it contains only one word.
That’s got to be enough, you chide yourself. Or does it?
Write down the keyword SCROLL, if you haven’t already.
What do you do?
I spin the wheel yet again.
I leave the chamber.
The next morn, you meet your courier at the designated location. He graciously bows his head and lays his monstrous body as low as possible to help you mount.
Your excitement builds even more, making the flight seem extra-long, as if torturing you with anticipation. Soon enough, the sight of an unmapped island greets you from within the ocean expanse.
At first, you see little detail. The closer you approach, however, the more the landscape comes into focus, and what you see is the last thing you would have expected.
“Vanadu,” you say to the dragon, “Something’s wrong…”
The island indeed teems rife with plant life, but the vast majority has been badly burned. Trees stand leafless, and vines that once must have curled majestically toward the heavens now lay charred in multiple sections across the brown ground. Even a handful of rock formations with runes purposefully carved as shrines to the dragon’s gods have been reduced to piles of random rubble.
“Let’s be careful,” you instruct, “especially with where we land. Over there.” You point to a relatively untouched section of beach, and Vanadu complies as a discomfited frown twists his brow. Yet, he says nothing.
You dismount with haste, then scan the area. Light shines some distance into a large cave ahead. Beyond a skittering mouse or two, no signs of life present themselves.
You struggle to keep your head from swimming with the shock. “What… happened here?” you whisper.
As you scan the area further, a partial answer comes to light: Upon a raised slab of stone in the very middle of the cavern, an image has been scrawled in maroon blood, one with which you have become all too familiar
. The skull, surrounded by a macabre ring of forest green and pierced at an odd angle by a dagger, seems to stare into the core of your soul.
Thomerion…
A long, wailing groan of high pitch but powerful resonance meets your ears. You think it came from deeper in the cave.
Fear bubbles up in your chest. But a sense of duty, even if leftover from your days as mayoress of Sungaze, compels you to investigate, and overrules the dread.
If this truly is a secret isle, no one else knows about this destruction yet… and someone should definitely tell them.
“Hello?” you call into the cavern. “Is someone there?”
A gurgly, reptilian voice replies, “Help… me…”
You enter the cavern. Vanadu follows. Within, treasure hoards lay in various piles across intricate swaths of stone. Many of the coins have been mutilated, their edges and faces melted into disfigured, eerie shapes. Light pours in from a natural opening in the ceiling.
You think you see a purple claw extending from within a corner shadow. The creature attached to it groans a second time.
There, under shelter of a granite arch, lay a clearly wounded and very small dragon. Its disheveled scales point in various directions within large patches of its hide, and its wings are pierced in several places. One eye has been scorched to the point where it closes upon itself in a desperately protective attempt to fend off further damage.