by Andrew Rowe
Okay, I can work with this. The area isn’t that big. Just need to try a few more things.
The voice kept “whispering” at me each time I walked through the area, but with no indication that it was hearing my replies. That was a shame, because some of my remarks were pretty amusing, and it was unfortunate that my foreboding observer wasn’t getting to enjoy them.
“Is it your job to just watch people and...be creepy at them? Or is this more of a hobby? Because if it’s a job, I could probably find you a better option. Not to be rude, but you clearly have a talent for growling at strangers, and I can think of some people who could use that.”
I consoled myself with the fact that this whole experience was probably even more repetitive for them than it was for me.
I opened up my pack, found parchment and a quill, and started working on a map. I counted paces in each direction. It took me an almost identical number of paces to get back to the glade regardless of whether or not I went left or right, and it felt like the same amount of time.
That made it likely that the glade was physically at the center of whatever effect I was in, and that the effect had something to do with my location, not the amount of time that was passing.
Once I’d done that, I started dragging a stick behind me to make a line in the dirt. If I’d planned better, I could have just paid attention to my boot trails, but I’d walked over the area so many times now that it wouldn’t work for this particular test.
I glanced behind me periodically, watching the line I was making.
I’d walked just about halfway through the total distance of the loop when I realized that the line behind me was gone, with the exception of the last few feet I’d just drawn.
I turned around, walking back the way I came...and there was the longer line again, leading a long way down the trail in front of me.
I felt a renewed wave of nausea hit me and paused to take a drink.
That was when I noticed a small cluster of rocks that I hadn’t placed.
Foregoing the drink, I walked over to the rocks and knelt down to inspect them.
I found runes carved into the one in the center.
There you are.
I didn’t know exactly what the runes did. Wasn’t my area of expertise, and honestly, I don’t even remember what they looked like. Sorry, Corin, I know you like adding to your rune collection.
I do remember the cathartic feeling when I smashed the rock, though. Mm. Breaking things.
There was a flash of light when I shattered the stone, then I was elsewhere.
My stomach briefly protested in response to the teleportation effect, but fortunately, there was nothing immediately dangerous to assault me during my recovery.
I took in my surroundings. Same forest, or one designed to look similar. Now I was on the border of a hillside, though, or maybe a mountainside. I couldn’t determine the scale due to the mist.
Either way, the stone outcropping near me had a conspicuous-looking cave with an obviously humanoid sized entrance.
I almost avoided it out of irritation. I didn’t like playing so directly into someone else’s hands, but I had a job to do. I’d been told that the goddess I was looking for had a thing for presenting challenges, but I wasn’t expecting anything quite this obvious...or something quite so soon after my arrival.
I’d hoped to end up in a nice town, with some time to plan and gather information.
Hope can be a source of strength, but when it fails to deliver what I want, I’ve found a good degree of stubbornness to be an appropriate substitute.
So, I walked into the cave.
The mist was even thicker inside. I could only see a few feet in front of me, and even that was hazy.
I could feel the moisture in the air, and that moisture made it easier to pick up the scents around me. Moss, feathers, a hint of death.
Good. Maybe there’s something I can fight in here.
My hand settled on the sword on my left hip out of instinct, but I didn’t draw it. There was no need to make things worse.
I was tempted to conjure a bit of flame to disperse the mist around me and provide some much-needed light, but the cost of maintaining it for a trek of indeterminate length was more of a risk than I was willing to take.
Instead, I walked back out of the cave for a minute or so, found a branch of about an arm’s length, broke off the little twigs protruding from the sides, and tried to light it with the flint and steel from my pack.
After about a minute of trying to get a spark to catch on the wood, I gave up and just ignited the top of the branch with sorcery. A chill ran down my spine as I felt the spell’s cost, but it wasn’t much of a burden. A mere flicker of fire wouldn’t drain my strength as much as maintaining a ball of flame would have.
The branch blazed brightly as I strode deep into the depths of daunting darkness.
Oh, come on. I’m not being that dramatic. A little bit of narrative flavor never hurt anyone. You could use a little more of it when you tell us the next part of your story, Corin.
Anyway, cave. Right.
With the makeshift torch, I could see a little bit further — just far enough to notice the trail of bones. I could also see that the cave went deep into the mountainside, expanding beyond the human-sized entrance into a vast cavern with an open area ahead and what looked like a couple different possible paths.
I ducked under a stalactite, reminded myself not to stand straight up, and knelt next to the first skull I could find.
Deer, I think. Looks about adult-sized.
I inspected some of the other large bones nearby, frowning as I took in the size of the gouges on the ribs. They’d been pushed inward, and I could see marks on several of them where something sharp had cut into the bone.
Crushed by claws, and big ones. Large enough to wrap around the entire torso of the deer, I think.
Either that, or five people with clubs and axes.
Going to go with claws.
I stood up, hit my head, and died.
Kidding, kidding. I didn’t die until much later.
Didn’t even hit my head. I’d been climbing through enough caves that I knew to exercise due caution. I remained in a crouch until the cave widened and the ceiling was high enough to stand back up without bashing my head.
It was fortunate that I was close to the ground for a while, because that made it easier to notice the spine crawlers.
What are spine crawlers, you ask? Why, they’re like centipedes, only three feet long, about eight inches thick and, as I learned, swift to anger.
Their gray skin blended near perfectly with the stone floor — it was the glint from the light reflecting on their carapaces that gave them away.
By that point, it was almost too late. I was only inches from a nest, and one was slithering toward my feet.
I backpedaled because, well...no one wants to get eaten by giant poisonous worms. That took me into the other monster nest.
Vines wrapped around my legs as the winged beasts descended from the ceiling. They looked like bats, but with wings that were more birdlike, if bird feathers were metallic and razor-edged.
Also, given how rapidly the vines were moving from the cave floor to encircle me, one or both of the monster types could use nature sorcery.
Well, I’m surrounded by monsters. That was quick.
I smirked.
Time to get started.
I tugged on the vines. Animated or not, they were vines, and not particularly strong. I snapped one just in time to see one of the razor bats — no idea if that’s what they’re typically called, just going to go with that name — flapping its wings in my direction.
Which, predictably, sent a wave of razor-sharp feathers in my direction.
The feathers weren’t actually metal, so I couldn’t turn them aside with metal sorcery. I resisted the instinct to draw my blade and hurled myself out of the way, narrowly avoiding the quills.
The few lingering vines wrapped around
me weren’t sufficient to hold me in place, but the ones I snapped were quickly replaced by more. And now I was on the ground with razor bats above me, and a spine crawler, well, crawling closer.
I flared my aura, surrounding my body in a silvery blur. Vines disintegrated. Inches of stone beneath me vanished, not even dust left in my aura’s wake.
I rolled in the opposite direction of where the vines had been, my right hand burning from the power I’d just used. I didn’t even have time to regret it before I was pushing myself to the side, failing to avoid another barrage of feathers entirely. A quill glanced along my back, drawing a trail of blood.
I rolled, grabbing the quill with two fingers and hurling it right back at the bat.
It missed. I’m a good shot, but it was a feather, not a throwing knife.
I threw the knife from my belt next. I hit the bat that time, and it fell.
The spine crawlers were on top of it in seconds, biting with venom-laced fangs. I scurried backward, retrieving my fallen torch, and watched as another spine crawler dislodged its jaw and sprayed acid on the still-wriggling razor bat.
A good portion of the bat melted away before it ceased struggling entirely.
A smaller portion of my knife melted along with it.
And I liked that knife.
Rather than extract revenge for the vicious daggercide that had just been committed, I took the more cautious course of pushing myself to my feet and inching away from the scene. The spine crawlers didn’t seem to notice me at all now that they had easier prey, but I didn’t want to risk aggravating them further with any sudden movements.
Burning through those vines with my aura had been...unwise. Overusing it was dangerous in a different way from conjuring too much fire. It wouldn’t harm me.
Not physically, at least.
Practicing any type of sorcery generates essence — what you’d call mana where you’re from — of that type in the body. That essence changes you; subtly with some types of mana, more overtly with others.
I could use three fairly common types of sorcery: flame, stone, and metal. I wasn’t really sure what the first one did to my body, but stone and metal essence both worked to reinforce skin, muscles, and bone. I’d practiced metal sorcery daily since childhood, and that had made my body both stronger and more resilient than any ordinary human.
I’d disintegrated the vines using another, lesser known type of sorcery. I’d practiced it unknowingly for years by using the sword sheathed at my side, and during that process, it had bled into my essence.
Now I was generating some of that type of essence myself all the time, even without the sword.
That wasn’t a good thing.
The aura that was around me at all times?
It breaks things.
Anything I’m in contact with for long enough wears down. Food, clothes, armor, weapons — it all breaks. I’m not talking about just accelerating the normal passage of time, either. That’d be ruin sorcery, which is related, but less dangerous.
My aura is gradually cutting through everything around me — erasing pieces of everything it touches. This is not convenient.
For example, if I wear items that generate protective sorcery, like a shield sigil?
My aura breaks the barrier down in minutes, rendering the item worthless. Even the magical object itself will gradually break down, unless the item is shielded well enough to prevent the aura from cutting through it. Very few defensive spells are that resilient.
I had precisely three things on me that were powerful enough to survive long-term exposure to my aura without harm. My sword, the scabbard designed to hold it, and a weird mask I really shouldn’t have held onto.
My aura was already too strong for me to suppress it entirely at any given time. It was cutting away at my backpack, my boots, everything around me, just very slowly. I probably had about two or three weeks to get to a town before my equipment fell apart.
Any time I used that type of sorcery, I’d make the problem worse. Permanently, unless I also improved my degree of control over the aura, and that was easier said than done. Drawing the sword involved the same type of risk; a portion of that destructive magic would leak into me any time it wasn’t sheathed.
If I didn’t find a solution, I’d eventually get to the point where I couldn’t touch non-magical objects at all.
Or people.
I didn’t exactly care for the idea of never being able to embrace my friends or family again.
The old man who had sent me to this place?
He was a famous scholar of sorcerous theory, and one of the few people who might’ve been able to help me.
But there was always a price.
And with that in mind, I continued into the cave. My back still ached from the brush with the razor bat’s quill. I waited until I was several minutes in before pausing, putting down the torch, and digging bandages and ointment out of my bag. The wound was relatively shallow, but not shallow enough that I could ignore it entirely. I applied the ointment and bound the wound, then continued on.
Hopefully there’d be something a little bigger to fight deeper inside, if I was lucky.
“Turn back.” The voice boomed, and it sounded like it was coming from directly in front of me.
I saw the pair of glowing motes of light — presumably eyes — in the distant mist a moment later.
I waved my off-hand. “Oh, you must be the creepy fog voice! I was hoping I’d eventually get to meet you.”
The twin lights blinked.
I walked closer, passing the torch to my off-hand. I wanted my sword arm ready, but I didn’t move it close to the hilt. I didn’t want to appear threatening.
“Leave. This is your final warning.”
I ducked under another low portion of the ceiling as I approached. The cavern walls encroached around me until I could barely fit down the tunnel, then widened again into a massive, almost circular chamber. The mist was the thickest I’d seen so far. I could feel the moisture on my skin, taste it with every breath.
I could vaguely make out the outline of a humanoid figure ahead of me. That was a bit of a comfort, since I wasn’t sure I should expect anything close to human. Plenty of monsters could produce a human-sounding voice.
“I’m sorry to intrude. I don’t mean to be rude.” I grinned, pausing now that I was close enough to get a good look at who I was talking to. I could see the outline of hair, almost floor-length. Slender arms and legs...did those hands end in claws?
Yeah, those were definitely claws.
Nice.
The figure must have been wearing white. They blended in with the mist so thoroughly that I couldn’t make out any other details. I guessed they were probably about ten feet away now, which was about the farthest I could see in the haze.
“Then you should have left when you had a chance.” They raised a clawed hand. “Prepare yourself.”
As much as I wanted to fight, I couldn’t jump right into it. I’d finally found someone I could talk to, and I needed information.
I raised a hand. “Wait a moment, please. I was teleported to this forest, and I’m lost. I’m supposed to be gathering information about the area. I’ve been told there’s a goddess called Selys, I believe? Are you her?”
The figure tilted its head to the side. “...Are you mocking me? Is that a serious question?”
“Completely serious.”
The person...creature...thing exhaled heavily enough that I felt it. The air pushed me back a step. I steadied myself, bracing for an attack, but realized they had just sighed.
Humanoid or not, this thing really knew how to breathe. “I am not the goddess, but I do serve her. I am the guardian of the Shrine of the Dawnbringer, one of the Six Sacred Swords.”
I nodded. I was finally making some progress here. “Okay, great. If you’re in her employ, could you direct me to where I can find her?”
“If thou dost seek the goddess, thou must climb the Soaring Spires. For the goddess
resides in the skies above, and only atop the spires might one glimpse upon her greatness. But, be forewarned, ere false hope be thine — centuries live and die between the successes of heroes who seek to reach the spire’s summit.”
Yeah, they actually used ‘thou’. Apparently they had penchants for both growling and theatrics. Maybe if I was lucky I’d get a prophecy at some point, too.
“That’s great, thank you for that. So, there are a few of these spires?”
“Six are the spires, as six are the sacred swords.”
“Huh. Sounds like that’s not a coincidence, then?”
The figure lowered their head, as if in prayer. “Atop each spire lays one of the god beasts, ferocious guardians that await those who would dare to seek an audience with the goddess. None would stand a chance against these beasts, save for the sacred swords — one blade forged to survive the power of each beast.”
Ooh, god beasts sound like they’d be fun to fight. And I do love collecting magic swords.
I was starting to get more excited. Maybe the sage hadn’t sent me to such a bad location after all. “Got it. That makes sense. And you’re the guardian of one of the swords?”
“So I am. Since time immemorial, my people have served here.”
I frowned at that. “And you’re okay with that? Servitude?”
“My task is a sacred calling, given by the goddess herself. Thy banter and jesting are what bore me. Either flee from my sight or challenge me properly. Those are your choices.”
I frowned. This was not going where I wanted it to. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound insulting. Okay, challenging.” I cracked my neck. “What are the terms? Could we have a match to the first successful hit of any kind, for instance?”
“We would fight until one of us could fight no longer. I would not be gentle. Face me and you should expect to lose your life.”
I winced. I loved fighting, but I was strictly against killing people without a good reason. “Could I convince you to alter the terms to a middle ground? First blood, perhaps?”
“The terms are set down by tradition. They cannot be altered.”
I nodded sadly. “I expected as much. And the sword is right past you?”
“It is not far. I am not the last of the challenges, but I am the greatest. It lays in the grove of three virtues, untouched in the two decades since it was last claimed.”