by J. J. Pavlov
"The empire named me Psycophantas. Where you came from, I'm called Bryaledi." Al-Majnun's voice echoes through the halls from all sides. "I don't like the title those gave me. The Perverter of Order - it sounds like I'm an anarchist or even a villain."
"Then, what are you?" I play his game to stall for time, so that I can sort my thoughts. Bryaledi is one of the fourteen gods, and the month when we were cast through the transportation circle is named after him - Bryaleditid. That could have been a tremendous coincidence, or everything was going according to his plans to get me here. But for what?
"I prefer the term visionary." Bowing with an exaggerated gesture, he replies to my unfriendly tone with the exact opposite. All I knew about this god was that he's a symbol of hedonistic pursuits, which the empire views as undesirable. Now I see that he's also a trickster with the power to influence minds.
"I think psychopath describes it pretty well." It's perfect that his name in the Empire of Terminus sounds quite similar, so I use that to rile him up.
"It takes one to know one, doesn't it?" A voice next to my ear whispers, and I spin around to find nothing.
Suddenly, I notice that I'm alone. The hall is completely empty, and the furniture has disappeared. Hestia, whom I was holding only moments ago, is gone as well. In fact, this place isn't even the same as the one we were in just now. Octagonal pillars are holding a ceiling that disappears into the darkness above, the floor tiles are checkered black and white, and the room extends into infinity in every direction as far as I can see.
How did he do that without me noticing? Have I fallen under his hypnosis?
"Indeed, it's all in your head." Al-Majnun's voice announces. "Looks pretty empty here, doesn't it?"
"Ha-ha." I fake a laugh. "Let me out."
"What are you saying? How can anybody ever leave the confines of their own mind?" Suddenly, the jester appears out of thin air a few steps away from me and tilts his head while speaking in a tone that suggests I just made a dumb request.
"You know the saying 'out of sight, out of mind,' right?" It's a rhetorical question because I've heard it often enough. If this is inside my mind, I should have full control over anything that happens here. After all, I'm conscious and aware of it. "I'll just have to kick you out."
"How about you? Do you know the saying 'being out of one's mind'?" My opposite asks in an equally rhetorical tone. He snaps his gloved fingers, and my surroundings begin to twist and collapse. The floor tiles scatter and fall into the blank nothingness that opens below, and the pillars as in a kaleidoscopic image until they fold out of sight.
I grow Hestia's wings and beat them to stay in place, but when everything around me disappears, I don't even know whether I'm rising or falling. Any sense of direction is gone in an instant, then the feelings in my body vanish, and finally, only my consciousness is floating in the twilight of my mind. Flickering like a candle in the wind, it grows dimmer as I can no longer describe my surroundings with words. It no longer exists, and soon, neither will I.
Is this... death?
Chapter 62 - Challenge The Depths
Kamii has been commuting to and from the guild hall for the past moon and a half. Rolan and the others would let her join them whenever they scoured the shallow parts of the Lost Tombs, but have as of yet not made any deeper delves.
Daica has eventually come around to the revelation that Mahkotoh is the daughter of Demon Queen Pelomyx. Since then, she has worked tirelessly to utilize her network in search of the missing demon princess. At this point, word has already begun spreading to their dark elf brethren on the continent of Enorath, where the Empire of Terminus, the Fatas Triarchy, the Mineva Republic, and the Khurut Sultanate are located.
They're using a sketch created by Senka, who has a prodigious talent for it. Copied by a newspaper printing firm employing earth mages, it's now traveling across the world and hopefully helping people identify Mahkotoh to guide her back to Kongenssoevn.
With her little sister busying herself like that, Kamii felt restless about the feeling that she was the only one not doing anything worthwhile with her time. They were never taking risks in the Lost Tombs and only earned negligible rewards in return.
She had plenty of opportunities to show them her quick thinking and perceptive mind, so when yesterday Rolan finally told her that they would be trying out a hidden path Sigurd discovered, she had to suppress the urge to rejoice openly and loudly. It meant they trusted her with their backs now.
Today would be dedicated to making preparations for this foray into the unknown darkness. The little dark elf was grouped with Gram to procure provisions, supplies and climbing gear, while the others each got their own tasks to fulfill. Basically, they're giving her the easiest job once again, as they know the big man will carry everything on his own.
But she decided to show what she's truly capable of, not only as a dark elf but also as a cursed being. The strength in her body - and especially the crab arm - is far greater than she has ever let on, and she now pulls the overloaded small cart they rented for this occasion.
"You were hiding this all along, huh?" Gram scratches the top of his bald head when he sees her effortlessly drag it behind herself as if it were empty. The pavement isn't very smooth, which only makes it harder, but she hasn't once slowed down since the beginning of the day, and not a hint of sweat can be seen on her face even under the glaring midday sun.
"I had to." Kamii replies curtly, her expression making it clear that she started doing this when she was still a slave. If they had found out about her physical gifts, she would have been treated quite differently - and not any better.
"There have been many shocking revelations since last summer, but this one is quite welcome." Smiling wryly, the big man shrugs.
"You have seen nothing yet." The little dark elf looks at Gram with her usual expressionless face, and he blinks in surprise. Scratching his chin nervously, he files that statement away under uncomfortable at best and terrifying at worst.
"I feel like I don't know you anymore." He hangs his shoulders in resignation, hoping she won't respond to that. When she remains quiet and continues to walk, he's relieved.
They make their way back to the guild after clearing everything on the shopping list. The cart is pulled toward the stables in the back of the building, where a rope lift allows them to bring everything up to their second-floor rooms.
Once they finish their work, they head back down into the gathering hall, where they meet up with the other members who have also completed their tasks for the day. For now, those are Hreidunn, Sigurd, and Vigdis, who sit on the corner couches chatting.
"We're done." Gram plops down on the big sofa chair, and Kamii takes the seat next to the water mage. Although the little dark elf doesn't show her emotions much, the two of them seem to get along well. The two look close in apparent age, but everybody suspects that Kamii is actually almost as old as Hreidunn.
"Did you already bring everything upstairs?" The ranger eyes the two in wonder, especially since the big man doesn't look the least tired.
"Kamii is full of surprises. It's as if she's trying to emulate the missy when she was still with us." Replying with a laugh, Gram waves over the waitress to order himself a large jug of beer. Sigurd shoots him a wide-eyed glare, either for mentioning Chloe or for starting to drink again, but the latter doesn't get the message. "What?"
"You shouldn't drink." Ignoring the big man's insensitive reminder of Mahkotoh's absence, the dark elf explains the other point of criticism in the bard's gaze.
"Oh, come on. I'll be fine by tomorrow." Pouting, the big man crosses his arms in defiance, earning a chuckle from Vigdis.
"It's alright. He can hold his liquor better than anyone here." Rolan's voice announces his arrival, and everybody turns around. He's with Leif, back from their errand together. "We got them."
With this, they're all set for the long expedition into the unknown depths.
The next morning, they left the guild
hall early, each carrying a large backpack filled with supplies that should last them about a fortnight. For the first time, Kamii's luggage weighs the same as everybody else's since Gram, who usually takes her share, needs to carry the heavier equipment this time.
Stocking up on the free torches at the entrance beyond the Delvers' Delight, the tavern located the deepest in the Lost Tombs and run by the hardiest couple in all of Kongenssoevn, they began their descent into the darkness.
At first, they still met the occasional group or lone thrill-seeker, but their path eventually took them far away from where anybody else usually treads. Sigurd had discovered a hidden trap door in the ceiling of what had always looked like a dead end, so they would see where that led them.
Rolan had to stand atop Gram's shoulders and try various methods to pry the square slab of stone open. Eventually, he chiseled away at the corners, and it nearly hit his head while swinging downward. The cloud of dust coming down on him turned his entire outfit gray, then the big man sneezed, and the two of them collapsed into a pile of limbs.
When the dust settled, Leif held his staff up to illuminate what lay beyond the opening with a small flame. Just as Sigurd had predicted, there was a ladder chiseled into the stone, leading up into the darkness. It was barely wide enough for Gram's shield to fit vertically, so it would take them some time to climb it.
Luckily, the bard had the brilliant idea to have Hreidunn scout ahead first and see if there was a place to attach a pulley at the top. This way, they would at least be able to hoist all the luggage up instead of carrying it on their backs while climbing. It turned out to be the right call, as the magical lamp on her collar showed those who stayed behind that it was a long way up.
When everybody arrived at the top of the stone ladder, the bard announced that they were in an uncharted section of the Lost Tombs. From here, their delve for unknown riches could begin in earnest.
On the fourth day in the catacombs, Sigurd notices a shuffling sound coming from the corner ahead of them and lifts a hand to stop the whole procession. They all know what this signifies, but the location is what alarms them. Hreidunn gives the bard a questioning glance, but he shakes his head in incomprehension.
The little dark elf is the only person who can see well in the dark. She looks ahead of them, outside the cone of light from their lamp crystals. A single figure just rounded the corner and is now approaching them slowly, but the others can't see him yet.
It's a man wearing chainmail, holding a sword in the right hand while the left one is barely hanging onto the rest of the body by a little muscle and skin. A broken shield is still strapped to his useless forearm, dangling with every scuffling step. His skin is pale, his movements are sluggish, and the gash in his left flank goes nearly all the way to the spine. Whatever cut him treated his armor as if it didn't exist in the first place.
It's an undead adventurer, one who died a few days ago at most. Kamii remembers when Mahkotoh brought her along on the request of the annual cemetery cleansing in Hovsgaerden. Back then, she used a single light magic spell that spread across a large area and purified all the undead instantly. They don't have anybody capable of doing that among them, so it won't be as easy here.
"There it is!" Hreidunn says while nocking an arrow and aiming into the darkness ahead. She's the second best in night vision after the little dark elf, though it's only at the limits of what is humanly possible.
"Wait, let it get a little closer." Rolan orders in a quiet tone. If there are others, they may get alarmed by one of them falling. For now, this man is the only one in the entire corridor ahead of them, but there may be more around the corner.
"He must have died a day or two ago." Commenting in a whisper, Gram holds onto his shield's handles with so much force that his knuckles turn white. His fear of the undead would be considered entirely rational if he weren't a combat veteran - one who has faced such enemies countless times. Even now, he can't overcome it completely.
"This is far enough." Kamii suddenly says and points ahead of them. "Take it."
Surprised by the sudden order, Hreidunn does as she's told and shoots the undead man through the skull. Now that the first move has been made, Rolan visibly suppresses the urge to complain and draws his sword to swiftly decapitate the staggered enemy. He props up the falling body, but the helmeted head performs an arc through the air away from him. Gram tries to catch it but fumbles the package in a mixture of fear and disgust.
Everybody holds their breaths, as they can't reach it in time. The loud thud from the helmet on the stone floor will, without a doubt, alert all the undead in their surroundings. But Kamii's crab pincer comes in and just barely snatches it before it hits the ground.
"Nice save." Leif whispers with a sigh, and all the built-up tension leaves his body. Vigdis leans on her staff, fearing that her legs might give out if she doesn't.
Quietly putting down the severed head, Kamii once again wonders why Rolan isn't using the ancient enchanted blade called Roshanee, which he found among the fake treasures of the lich king. Instead, he wields a regular one he bought later; there must be a reason for going out of his way to get a new weapon just to avoid using it. So far, she still hasn't glimpsed it, even after repeatedly hearing that it possesses incredible power.
"That wound is from a blade trap. Let me go ahead from now on." Sigurd examines the headless corpse and warns the party in a hushed voice. He then signals for Gram to follow closely behind him. If an enemy appears, he'll be able to retreat behind the safety of the big man's shield quickly that way.
With this, the formation shifts to Hreidunn taking the rear guard alongside Rolan, while Leif, Vigdis, and Kamii are in the safe center. The latter has repeatedly expressed her wish to fight at the front but was denied that request each time. The bard told her that she's in charge of protecting the two mages, and even though she knows that he's treating her like a child by giving her a mission that only sounds important, she accepted it. Anything can happen in a labyrinth filled with invisible trap doors and moving walls.
"Why was he here? I thought this was uncharted territory." The leader asks from the back.
"Maybe he fell through a hidden trap door, or we did loop back around into a familiar place. But there are no other footprints in the dust here, so at least it is not a path frequently taken." Replying in a speculative tone, Sigurd explains without turning around. He's paying close attention to the ground and the walls while advancing slowly.
"Then we may yet find undiscovered treasures here." Hreidunn breathes a sigh of relief. The little dark elf learned soon after working with the ranger that she seems obsessed with making money. Even after securing plenty of riches to last them through several summers, she still wishes to find more. That mentality is what dark elves consider the main driving force behind all human evil.
But as the older sister of one of the very few money-oriented dark elves in existence, Kamii can't judge Hreidunn. Although in Daica's case, it doesn't derive from a twisted personality but was born out of necessity. Living off the bounty of the land is difficult when one is treated as a curiosity to be kidnapped at best and a monster to be killed at worst. They know from experience that slave traders have far more leeway in the countryside than they do in big cities - and such cities are the only places where they can remain relatively safe.
"A group of twelve entered the dungeon seventeen days ago and never returned." Gram suddenly says, and the little dark elf snaps back to reality. "So that's what happened to them."
Finally, she notices the unmistakable stench of death that surrounds them. It must have been there for a while, but she was too deep in thought to smell it.
Seven undead humans in sets of patchwork armor are standing around in the corridor with their backs toward them. Unmoving corpses, each dismembered in one way or another, lie on the ground and bring up the number to eleven. Adding the one that came toward them earlier, it matches the description of the missing group.
"See those sl
its in the walls and the ground? Those are blade traps." Sigurd points there with the lamp in his hand and illuminates the openings for all to see.
The movement of the light causes the undead to notice their presence, and they turn around. Each one of them has a fatal wound that stems from a blade that seems to ignore even the plate mail one of them is wearing. As if driven by a silent command, they begin to walk sluggishly, lifting their various weapons or bare hands toward the
group of living.
"That's some terrifying force." Leif mutters anxiously while clutching his staff in preparation for the inevitable confrontation. He's referring to the traps that were capable of cutting through solid steel.
"Let them come to us." Sigurd prepares his crossbow and kneels.
"We don't want to walk into whatever did that to them, right?" With a nervous laugh, Gram places his shield on the ground and provides cover for the bard.
Just as he says that, a female undead steps on a pressure plate that activates one of the traps. A spinning sawblade emerges from one of the slits in the wall and cleanly separates her torso from her legs. It completely ignored the chainmail shirt she's wearing.
"I think we shouldn't walk through here." Hreidunn suggests after seeing the blade trap in action.
"I agree." The leader nods in assent and is about to order a general retreat down the path they came from when Sigurd interrupts him.
"Believe me when I say that I can navigate us through there." He employs an almost pleading tone. "Where there are traps, riches await."
"Are you sure?" The ranger, who had already motioned to backtrack stops and turns to ask. Of course, she wouldn't ignore talk about treasures.
"Oh, no. Come on, auntie." Vigdis shakes her head and sighs in resignation.
"What?" Hreidunn scratches her cheek in embarrassment. "You know you want it too."