by Kyle Johnson
His fury was not spent, yet, though, for the true cause of all this misery still lay at his feet. The power of the storm smashed through his Crystal Prison and tore through the rabisu, who screamed and began to vanish. “No!” Aranos screamed, driving the storm into it, but before it could fade, a dim light surrounded it, binding it in place.
“Riluaneth!” the creature shrieked, thrashing to escape. “I will devour your soul!”
“And thus will we both perish,” the specter of the long-dead ruler of the city replied calmly as the raging storm ripped and shredded both of their immaterial forms. “I am willing to lose my place on the Wheel in order to end this, rabisu.”
The rabisu screamed in agony as the storm tore its wispy form to shreds, and suddenly it collapsed in a splatter of black ooze that quickly dried into powder.
When the creature at last fell, the final bit of Aranos’ energy faded, and the storm swirled into nothingness. He fell heavily to the floor with a thud, utterly exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open. He struggled to rise, but a pair of strong arms slipped under him and lifted him gently.
“Shh, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel said softly. “It is over. Sleep now, and I will watch over you.” Gratefully, he sank into the darkness of sleep.
Chapter 12
Aranos jerked awake, sucking in a deep breath as he sat up and looked around wildly. “What…where?” he stammered, his mind a whirl of random images. Geltheriel, fallen. Lythienne, corrupted. A city, betrayed. Tears suddenly welled up in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear them.
“Be at ease, Oathbinder,” a soft voice spoke from beside him, and he looked up to see Geltheriel, kneeling above him. “We are still in the Receiving Hall. I have secured the doors from the Tree and have kept watch, but the city seems to be cleansed of the undead.”
Aranos nodded. “Lythienne created them,” he explained, his voice flat and drained of emotion. “When she died, they were released.”
Geltheriel sat quietly next to him for a moment. “There is a tale here, Oathbinder,” she said at last. “A tale worthy of being told, but one that is tearing your heart. Perhaps if you share the burden, it will seem lighter between the two of us.”
Aranos said nothing for several long moments, his mind trying to organize his thoughts. Finally, he sighed. “Before the Feast,” he began, “this was a Kingdom, the Realm of Haerobel. Its High Sorcerer was a woman named Lythienne.
“Lythienne was a powerful spellcaster and trained many new Sorcerers in their Abilities, hundreds or even thousands of them. But, when the Feast arrived, she had to watch her students slaughtered in battle. See, that’s the role of a Sorcerer: not to die, but to fight against the Darkness. And, one by one, they fought and were killed.
“The thing is, Lythienne wasn’t really sad about her students dying. She was terrified that her knowledge was being lost. So, she created a super-powerful memory crystal and tried to copy all of her memories into it. Only, it didn’t work for some reason, and instead of copying her memories, it stole them from her and left her with very few.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “The student she gave the memories to followed her directions and took them away, to a safer Realm, which turned out to be Eredain. But, without her memories, Lythienne didn’t know that she was supposed to be protecting the city; she only wanted to protect herself. She didn’t have the knowledge anymore to cast the Spell she wanted, so she summoned something that did.”
“The rabisu,” Geltheriel breathed softly.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “It tricked her and told her she needed to drain the lives of everyone in the city to create a shield to keep out the Darkness. But she would also need servants and guards to protect her, so she captured the elves’ souls and turned them into the edimmu and gasha. She thought she was safe.”
“And in trying to stave off the Darkness,” the Keeper filled in, “she invited it in, instead.”
“Pretty much,” he sighed. “But she realized that what she had done was wrong; she just couldn’t undo it. She needed her memories for that. So, for hundreds of years, she’s had the edimmu scouring the city for her memory crystal, hoping to get those memories back. Of course, it wouldn’t have worked: those memories were in Eredain already, and even if she did find them, she was already too twisted to come back.”
“And is the Ekimmu’s crystal the one she sought?” Geltheriel asked. “It seems unlikely, if the crystal was taken from the city.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. “But, how would she know? She was desperate and, honestly, pretty insane.
“And how did she recover her memories?” the woman asked slowly. “I heard her say she had found them.”
“Because I had them,” he replied heavily. “That’s part of what the Traveler’s Trial was: a repository for Lythienne’s memories. When I defeated a Trial, I got part of her memories. That’s where I got my Tracking and Herbalism Skills: they were gifts from those memories.”
“So, these memories taught you how to be a Sorcerer,” Geltheriel supplied. “No wonder you grieve their loss.”
“It’s not that,” he said quietly. “The memories…they looked and acted like a real person. She was cranky…but she was kind. And a little sad that all she was, was a bunch of memories. But she helped me, and she sacrificed herself for me. Heck, without her gifts, I never would have rescued you.
“It’s more than that, though,” he admitted. “The elves…they weren’t that great to me. They blindfolded me and made me run through the forest. They wanted to kill me to prove I was a Traveler. The one that looked like you was the worst of all. I know better, now, but back then? Your elder was the only one who was decent to me, and that was only because he hoped that I’d help out the Stronghold. Lythienne, though, was kind to me just because she wanted to be, just to help me.”
“She was your friend,” the elf said quietly. “At a time when you had none, that would be a powerful bond. Now, I understand why you grieve…and I grieve with you.”
Aranos looked at her sharply, and she shrugged. “She was important to you,” she said simply. “Her loss has saddened you. When my friend grieves, I grieve for their loss, even if I do not share it.”
“Yeah, I guess we are friends,” he grinned after a moment.
“And more,” she reminded him. “We are Oathbound. However, even without the Vow I took, aleen, I would follow you and be your friend. I saw the Mistress upon you, threatening you. I saw how weak you were – I can see your SP bar, remember – and I saw you summoning your device to end her. Instead, you spent what you had to protect me, and by so doing, risked your life and your Quest.
“And then,” she continued, “when you had incapacitated the Mistress, you came for me and tried to save me, even though it may have meant abandoning your Quest.”
She reached out and ruffled his hair. “So yes, Aranos,” she told him with a smile. “We are friends…although, if you keep trying to see my breasts or touch my bottom, that may not remain so.”
He started to protest, but he saw the twinkle in her eye and chuckled instead. That turned into a giggle, which became a full laugh as the woman joined in. When the moment passed, Aranos felt refreshed, as if some of the weight of his Quest’s outcome had been lifted from him. Lythienne was right, though, he realized. Victory did not bring me joy.
“Now, you must check your notifications,” Geltheriel said, rising to her feet. “After which, you will wish to look through what I have scavenged from the edimmu’s collection and see what suits you, if anything. Then, we will proceed to Eredain.”
Aranos nodded and pulled up his notifications:
“Seriously?” he muttered in disbelief. “This freaking Quest isn’t over, yet?” Although that Class-related item might be nice…
And the level is nice, he grumbled silently, but look how close I am to Level 9! Why couldn’t there have been, like, 2 more gasha?
After a bit of thought, he decided to dump another point into Endurance and 2
into Wisdom. His SP were still running out during battles, primarily because he kept using Stamina-based Abilities that were highly mana-intensive, and the extra SP and regen didn’t hurt. I really need to look into grinding these Stats, though, he decided. Maybe once we get things in the Stronghold figured out.
Dismissing his notifications, he rose wearily to his feet. “How long was I out?” he asked Geltheriel.
“Perhaps 12 hours,” she responded from farther down the room. “It gave me time to sort through all of this and find the few items that were worth salvaging. As you were the one who struck the fatal blow, however, it is only fair that you choose first.”
She led him back to the center of the room, where a small pile of items had been gathered. Geltheriel had helpfully sorted the items into groups based on their type – weapons, armor, etc – and had also seemingly taken the time to clean them up, based on how free of dust, grime, and decay they were. Aranos counted 22 items in total, which was a lot compared to what he had, but not much compared to the massive piles of loot lining both walls.
“That’s all that survived, huh?” he grimaced, thinking of all the lost treasure and wealth in those piles.
“No, not all,” she replied. “I have collected the valuables already and placed them into a surviving container. Those, I presume, we will share equally. Other items survived but will be too difficult to carry back, have too little value to be worth the bother, or are not appropriate for either of us and thus are also packed away.”
“Huh,” he grunted, impressed with her efficiency. “And you did all that in 12 hours?”
“As thoroughly as was feasible,” she shrugged. “Do you wish to spend days here, sorting through this trash? Between this and what I have packed away, we are well compensated for our difficulties. I see no need to be greedy.”
Plus, she really wants to get back home, he realized as he nodded. She’s been really calm about the idea that something is walking around wearing her face, but I’ll bet she wants to kill it an awful lot. “Yeah, makes sense,” he agreed. “I’m eager to finish this stupid Quest off, too.”
He looked through the piles, immediately discarding the weapons and armor. He had his ironwood staff and Mana Armor, which would do him just fine, and he was certain Geltheriel could make better use of those types of equipment. He was intrigued by a set of rings but wasn’t sure what they were. He picked one up and handled it carefully, examining it closely. I wonder if it’s got an inscription you can only read by heating it up? he thought with a grin. To his surprise, a window suddenly popped up in his view:
“Hey, I finally Identified something!” he exclaimed, holding up the ring to Geltheriel. He checked his notifications and frowned. “Why didn’t I get an Identify Skill?”
“I have never heard of such a thing,” Geltheriel replied with an eye roll. “You must possess the Skill Arcane Lore or Enchantment, yes?”
“Arcane Lore, yeah,” he nodded. “It’s only at Novice 5, though, I…huh, it went up a level!”
Geltheriel sighed. “I forget all you do not know,” she said after a moment. “What I believe you are thinking of is the Skill Inspection, which is a basic Skill that allows you to sense the aura of other intelligent races you meet and does not function when used on monsters or items. To learn of those, you must possess an appropriate Lore or related Skill. In this case, your Arcane Lore Skill allows you to identify simple magical items.”
“I’ve got Natural Lore, too,” he supplied. “Up to Master 3. Does that mean…?”
“You will be able to identify almost any Nature-aspected creature, Spell, or object,” she grumbled. “It is something that most Keepers spend their entire lives developing, aleen, so treasure that Skill…and do not mention it to another elf, if possible. They may not appreciate the nature of the Sorcerer’s gift to you.”
“Umm, okay,” he replied, a little concerned. Another sign that maybe hanging with the elves isn’t the thing for me, he realized quietly. If I’ve got to hide all of my Abilities or have them get mad at me, I’ll be ridiculously uncomfortable there.
“In any case,” he continued, “I’ll see what I can make of these items and decide, okay?”
He moved through the jewelry quickly enough, since there were only three more rings and an amulet. All of the items were of Common rarity, which he assumed meant they weren’t very valuable or potent. Probably why the rabisu didn’t drain them, he realized. They were too low level for it to bother with. Two of the rings gave minor Stat boosts – one to Agil, one to End – and he gave both of those to Geltheriel, figuring the front-line warrior would get better use from them. The third ring increased SP regen by 0.5/s, so he kept it and the Wisdom ring. The amulet was different, but he wasn’t sure if he could use it or not:
His Empowerment, Entangling Web, and Hailstorm Spells were all Novice ranked, but he had a feeling this thing was designed to hold Wizard Spells; he didn’t want to play with it if he wasn’t sure it would work. He didn’t need to fail his quest because an amulet exploded in his face, after all!
The cloth items were all faded, dusty, and in need of repair to be fully functional. Still, among the functional items there was a cloak that increased Stealth by 5% and a pair of worn boots that apparently reduced Stamina loss when walking or running. Since he wasn’t sure if the boots would even work for him, he offered them to Geltheriel, who politely declined them. Apparently, her existing armor gave her a similar benefit.
He only found one more interesting item, the one he figured was the Class-related item promised in his Quest reward:
As he examined the gauntlet, his Arcane Lore Skill kicked in and gave him a bit more information than it had with the other items, and he found himself growing excited.
“What is that?” Geltheriel asked with a frown, stepping up next to him and touching the gauntlet. It was made of dark, oiled leather and had flexible bands of some whitish-grey metal running along the top and underside, meeting in the middle of the palm in a quarter-sized, circular piece that looked like it could hold something mounted into it.
“It’s a dueling gauntlet,” he explained, handing it to her. “I guess that, back before the Feast, Sorcerers used them for competitions or to settle arguments bloodlessly. You can fit a specific type of gem called a focusing gem into it and project a beam of mana out of your hand. They had some elaborate set of rules that my Lore Skill isn’t high enough to tell me, but the contest was supposed to be about using the minimum amount of energy in the most creative way possible, not blasting someone with a bunch of power.”
“That is interesting,” she hedged, “but I believe that ‘blasting someone’, as you say, would be more useful. I am also assuming the gems required were unique and not any crystal would serve, correct?”
“Yeah, they were enchanted and cut just for this,” he agreed. “And you can blast things with it, it’s just that apparently you could do more. If I find a focus gem, though, I’ll probably just blast stuff with it.” He retrieved the item and strapped it to his wrist; even if he couldn’t use it, yet, it looked pretty cool. Plus, he reasoned, if the AI’s presented me with the gauntlet, they’ll probably have the gems show up somewhere, too. I’ll have to sort through the ‘valuables’ Geltheriel found just in case and keep my eye on any loot drops.
He watched as Geltheriel took a tarnished, beaten-looking shield and a short sword in a rotted sheath. The remainder if the items they tied up into a bundle using a tattered rug that dangled from one of the walls, whatever image it once held long since faded and lost. Geltheriel hefted the roll onto her shoulder with a slight grunt and gestured toward where Lythienne’s throne once sat.
“While you slept,” she told him, “I located what I believe to be the exit. It appears to be a second arcane door, yet it is locked and would not open at my command.”
“Well, if it’s part of the Traveler’s Trial,” he guessed, “it might only open for someone who’s done all the Trials.”
“I presumed such,” s
he nodded. “Not that I would have left you, but if I had been able to open the door, it would have been simpler to carry you to Eredain and allow the healers there to attend you.”
That would be quite the return, wouldn’t it? he thought silently, keeping his face composed as he did. The mighty Traveler, returning in a princess carry with a woman that looks exactly like one of their Keepers. Yeah, that would not have gone well at all.
Geltheriel interrupted his musings after a moment. “I have but one more question,” she said slowly. “The first Traveler. She completed the Trials, yes? So, how did she not get Lythienne’s memories in the first place? Do you think they returned to the Trials when she perished?”
“I don’t know for sure,” he hedged. “But do you know what Class she was?”
“A Summoner,” the woman supplied helpfully. “A Wizard who specializes in summoning creatures to do their bidding. It seemed she wanted mastery of other beings, one way or another.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it, then,” he shrugged. “The memories were left to train a new Sorcerer. She wasn’t one, so the memory orbs just let her advance to the next step of the Trials instead of giving her the memories. They were probably keyed to a Sorcerer.
“Now that I’ve used them, though,” he said softly, “they’re probably just a part of the Trials without any memories. I’m pretty sure that part of them is gone.”
“Well, they are unnecessary now,” the Keeper pointed out. “There is a First Sorcerer, now, is there not? Others can seek training from you, instead.”