Part 10: Chapter Eight: Dancing With the Queen

Chapter Eight: Dancing With the Queen



Roasted fish on sticks. Roasted fish gutted but not otherwise cleaned, eyes and scales intact. Their eyes bulge, their crisped gills flare. Someone had the fine idea of enchanting them to be guardian constructs. The Isle of Skye has not made a good first impression.



Then again, a spirit right off the boat isn't bad at all. Kiliac helps me destroy the hopping fish; we walk to the small hut side-by-side. "Colleen's the sorceress what lives on this island. She's fun. Strange fun, but hell, fun aughta be strange."



Kiliac tells me I should wait a minute before entering. I slide around back to keep from being noticed by the fish--grangach, if I remember my fishing lessons--and stumble on another spirit. A pleasant bounty here. I'm becoming stronger more through these spirits than through practice.

After a while the shouting and oath-swearing cease and I enter the little house.



The atmosphere pulls tight like the skin of a drum when Killiac enters behind me. I introduce myself to Colleen.

"I am the Sorceress of Loch Kilderey," she says. "With that staff, you must be from the monastery. So you can't be a friend of this greasy pirate." She shot him an icy glare. "He makes me boil every time I see him. He blames me for the rough water on the lake and says it was my fault the Water Jewel was stolen."

I am unsurprised. Increasingly fearful for the safety of the world, yes--but unsurprised.

"But the wretch who stole it is the one who riles the waves. They say she tossed the Water Jewel from the Stone Circle deep into the lake. I'm afraid my magic can't reach it."

I ask her about the thief. Colleen whispers the story. The thief is named Nepty, a minor spirit tamer who joined an expedition into Glencoe forest years ago; I wonder if that poor lost soul in Glencoe waited for them to return, only to be claimed by something from deeper in the hell of water. It seems Nepty, along with the rest of the explorers, were lost in that place for years. Somehow Nepty found the Water Jewel in the Stone Circle at the center of Jahannam, the core of its endless maze, and found her way back out. She attunes herself to the stone at the bottom of the lake.

"When you fight her," Colleen advised, "try to save your magic for healing. You will need it."

I talk with Kiliac, to Colleen's annoyance. "It seems like the lake is riled up because a priceless treasure was stolen from it. It's a fantastic gemstone filled with the power of the water." Kiliac huffs. "What a weak sorceress she is. How can we believe the thief got to the lake bottom? Only a powerful magician could break the barrier and go that deep." Of that I have no doubt. I daren't correct Kiliac's misconception. If he doesn't know the crystal is the Water Crystal, and that the world is perilously dangling on the edge of oblivion, then far be it from me to tell him the news.



With Colleen's permission, I test my might against her various sentries. Pixies are proficient in close-ranged magic, but stone and wind spells send them running. Mystically-bound Thunder Jells round out Colleen's panoply of created, befriended, and controlled guards.



I take another spirit from the dock. This place all but bleeds magic.



A stroll through the garden restores my magical energy. It's good to be free of the otherworldly energy I drew from the crystal caves of Jahannam. The spirits I took from that place still rest in my staff, but I have felt no stranger for taking them.



Believing I am able to wage a battle against Nepty, or at least hoping that I can, I take the path up the hill, swatting at a few sentries who still want to trade spells.



At the top of the hill is a teleportation array. These are complex constructs that link two places; this, according to Colleen, will lead to the bottom of the lake. I pluck the spirit nearby, cast a breathing spell, and step into the array.



The lake is deep and, of course, cold. The sun was at my back not a few moments ago, but I feel as if I've not been warm for years. I press through the lake, the cool currents tousling my hair.



And here she is, waiting for me. The cold and pressure she exerts is greater than the depths of the sea, and just as strong is her loneliness. She sees me before I can speak, regards me with hollow eyes. Her voice cracks when she speaks.



"I don't believe it!" Her voice is petulant and strained. "How could a trifling little human like you get through my barrier so easily?" She preens herself. Those fins aren't natural; they must be from her bond with the Water Jewel. A lump grows in my throat. She must be far along the path to binding with the Crystal.

"It must be to see me," she said, amused with herself. Pride, the sin of the earth. I tell her she must refuse the Water Jewlel. I tell her the thing is damned, that by binding with it she was ensuring herself a seat in Jahannam. She freezes. I stayed there only an hour; she has been there for decades. I cannot let someone suffer as I had; it would be cruel, horrible. I will not send her to the hole she climbed out of. I must not kill her.

"I possess the Water Jewel," Nepty said, "and it will make me Queen of the world." The satisfaction drained from her voice, replaced with a cold-iron determination. "Humans will throw themselves at my feet and beg for mercy." Her gaze was no longer contemptuous. It was empty as a burned-out field. "Oh yes. You will, too."



In fast and easy hip-swaying strides, she closes the distance between us; I pelt her with bolts of fire; underwater, they manifest as a broiling wave that streaks towards her. She nimbly dodges the spells, too sleight and agile to pin down with more than one bolt. She draws close and spins like a ballerina on the stage, conjuring a storm of debris around her.



Preying on water's weakness against fire is fruitless here; she is too sleight, too fast to efficiently wear down with fire. Instead I turn to the strongest wind cutter spell, for even Nepty cannot dance between every blade of wind. Her sympathy with the Water Crystal diminishes their effect; it is all for the better, as I do not aim to kill. At a distance, she trades bolts of force for my wind cutters; each slams home as hard as a sledgehammer.



I neglect Colleen's warning and focus on offense. Nepty strides across the battlefield as if it were a ballroom, but each passing moment my wind cutters dice closer to her flesh. Nepty is a strong fighter--but I am her equal, from what I can see. Am I growing in power that much, that I can now stand spell-to-spell with a woman who crawled out of hell with the Water Jewel?

I raise another wind spell, and before I can finish its invocation Nepty punishes me with a force bubble. Disoriented, the spell flies from my staff undiminished. I regain my composure in time to see.



The wind cutters slash through the water. Nepty spins, twists, and with swanlike elegance, meets a wind cutter spiraling the other direction. Her throat slits open in a cloud of blood.

No--

She falls to her knees in slowed motion, as if in a dream, hands moving to her throat--I run, the distance between us seeming to stretch for miles, and I clutch my arms around her, hold tight, cast my strongest healing spell again and again and... and I have used up too much of my stored energy in the fight. I have lessened the wound, staunched the flow of blood some, but it is still open, still pouring blood like red smoke, I can't regain energy fast enough to cast spells strong enough to save her. I can only delay the inevitable.

She hugs me.

She holds me tight, keeping my head above the flow of blood, and her eyes meet mine. She's crying. My magic has kept her conscious for her last fleeting seconds of life and she knows just what I've done to her, just where I've sent her to. So much blood is on her hands, so much blood pouring, pouring into the lake, I can hear the distant echo of my footsteps in the hell of water and wonder how long she had to live with the only sound being her own lonely tread in that damned place.

I pray for her. What excuse does she have? She has damned many, killed others. It does not matter that she was desperate, fleeing an endless nightmare she had finally found the end of, fleeing from perfect impotence into what must've felt like ultimate power. But I see the terror in her eyes, the remorse, and I see a human being who does not want to die. I pray.

It is not long until she is still.


I cradle the Water Jewel in bloodied hands and all I can think of is Nepty.

I carried the Water Jewel to the array; when I am again on dry land, I add it to my pack, alongside the other two precious stones. They thrum, slightly, in tune, the Water Crystal shining brightest. What have I become?



The sentries give me a wide berth on the way back. I tell Colleen I've defeated Nepty. "What's that you say?" she says, "Broke through the barrier and recovered the Water Jewel? You're no average magician." Something's odd about her tone... "I think I can entrust the Jewel to you for safekeeping. Don't lose it. I have guarded the Water Jewel for generations in hopes of one day handing it over to a great magician." She takes my hand. "I think you are the one. Take it now--" she leaned in "--and get this pirate out of my sight."

Kiliac requests to see the Jewel. I offer him a brief glimpse, barely revealing it from my pack--just in case he is stricken with a need to take it. "Har... so that's the Water Jewel is it? I bet that could fetch a fancy price. A pirate would love to get his hands on it, but..." He rolls his eyes. "The sorceress would get angry with me." He smirks. "Yeah, it would be a real fun to tease the sorceress. Well maybe I might just take it--" I back up a step "--just to see her face turn red," he finishes, hastily.



Colleen opens the door in the back of her house. Inside is an array similar to Epona's. I take the spirit near the door--they must sprout here like cobwebs--then step onto the stone circle.



I am returned to Epona, the sole inhabitant--that I met, at least--of the hell of water. I thank her for saving me. "You've obtained the Water Jewel, I see. The truth is that gem is not all it seems."

What else could it be?

"Shut inside it is the power of the Eltale Book." She says the same is true of the other sacred gems--each carries a fragment of the Eltale Book's power within them. "That means if you are not worthy, overwhelming forces will be released. But, if you use your strength correctly, you can triumph over all."

Solvaring, Zelse, Nepty. Solvaring had plans for the Earth Orb, but what? Zelse wanted to be god of a selfish new world. Nepty wanted to blast away her helplessness. All tried to bond with the crystals--the legends detailing how to bond with each are disturbingly well-known--and something stopped each of them. Me. I've not performed the binding rituals for the gems, never will. The boost from simply having them is enough, more than enough. I dared not take their power before, nor do I plan on using them at all beyond the passive benefits of owning three. Will that carry me through?

"It is now up to you, Master Brian." Master... "You were the spirits' chosen one from the time you picked up the Crystal. I would not have wished such a thing upon someone so young." I balk. Chosen? By the Water Jewel? For what? Epona says nothing on the subject. "Now you can return to town from the Stone Circle. Be careful as you go."

I ask her what she meant by "chosen." She says it is difficult to explain, but that destiny would show me as I grew closer to the end of my journey.



The Stone Circle stands outside of Epona's shack in the Crystal Valley. Epona says the gate shall send me back to Larapool. I say farewell to Jahannam and step through the circle.

When the light returns to my vision I stand at the gates of Larapool. Its beauty has been forever tainted for me. I briefly stop by the inn to see if Shannon is there. She isn't. She must have gone on--to where? Was she still at Normoon? Going on without her felt... incomplete.

I'm certain she'll show up soon, though. She is nothing if not timely.



I take my place on the boat out of Larapool and to Limelin. The ride is uneventful, aside from the crew's boisterous mood.



When the boat docks at Limelin, I spy something moving over in the corner of the cabin. I move to investigate. A spirit! It seems to have just strayed itself on the boat ride. I draw it before leaving.



The late afternoon sun greets me as I step off the docks. Limelin Castle is to the east, and quite the walk. I leave immediately, hoping to reach Limelin by nightfall.



East Limelin's fields are infested with Cryshells and Fishmen. Cryshells are enormous tortoises that vent freezing wind through their shells; they are named for the ghostly moan of the wind as it escapes the face-like patterns of their shell. Fishmen are tall humanoids, "apes of the sea," wielding coral spears as foci for blasts of water. The tenacity of the Cryshell is more irritating than the plodding persistance of Fishmen.

Among these fiends I come across the occasional Scare Crow. They are far from their habitat in Cull Hazard--how did they get here? Migration? Some sort of accident?



Night falls fast, and much of my trek is through the dark. Strangely, the number of monsters drops off--usually more monsters stir at night than in the day. The reason why soon makes itself apparent.



Limelin is haunted by Wyverns. They are as massive and powerful as ever--but I have grown much since last I saw them. I believe I'll claim a Wyvern's hide at last.



My power has grown immensely. The Wyvern falls before my spells and the ever-growing charge in my staff with little effort. Experience, persistence in seeing out spirits, and a little assistance from the three elemental gems I carry help, of course.



The night wears on, as does my march. In the early morning I see the distant outline of Limelin castle, beautifully stark against the near-dawn sky.



In little time I'm at the door, ready to see the city that lies behind it.

Next: The tomb that dreamed of blood.



Chapter Eight Point Five: The Greater Good

My Lady, Most Merciful and Kind,

The news from Dondoran is... mixed. They are providing their support, but we have discovered Beigis is either in the midst of a grand plan or suicidally insane.

Initial contact was pleasant. I announced myself as a foreign dignitary, provided the signet ring to prove it, and gained an audience with the king and princess. Scottfort asked me why I was there and I told him it was in the interest of combining our arms against a common foe. He inquired if the Wyverns were too numerous for us to contain and preemptively volunteered his army's services; he is still bitter over the loss of his wife. I told him his offer was appreciated, but the Wyverns were the least of our problems. I intimated that Beigis was our problem; Scottfort took the hint and led me to a secret chamber behind his throne.

I have held audience in more dismal locations, but a glorified basement is not much of an improvement over its inferiors; its brightest light was a stray spirit flickering off to the side. He asked what Brannoch had done to draw our ire, and I corrected him: it is not Brannoch that is the problem, but the man on its throne. His own people were the first to suffer beneath him, and all the rest of Celtland would follow in time. He grasped the concept and asked why we couldn't just send an assassin. I told him a variation on the truth, the bulk of the truth being about Beigis's defenses, particularly the issue of the Rose Knights and Guilty. I offered him your good word on the subject and the dowry we have prepared for their participation. In truth, while I am certain he was nearly ours by then, it was the assassin that sealed his hand.

Scottfort said he wished to think more on the subject in less confined space, and so we returned to the throne room. A servant approached us, a woman, and the closer she drew the stronger my amulet of the killer's breath burned against my breast. Before I could warn the king, Flora (as she told me later) saw a glint of steel up the servant's sleeves and grasped her sword's hilt; the "servant," sensing what was to happen, drew her own weapons, a pair of stiletto daggers, and met Flora in combat.

Briefly.

Flora quickly injured the assassin's right hand, forcing the assassin to drop the weapon, parried aside the remaining blade, and grappled the woman. She

--And here, his pen pauses, and he shudders, his memory of the event clear as the first print off of a woodcut--

bit out the woman's left eye. Flora, though smaller than the assassin, quickly wrestled her injured and screaming foe to the ground, and forced her to confess her employer. The would-be assassin swiftly named Brannoch as her patron, and swore she would tell everything she knew if it meant being allowed to live. Flora asked me what we knew of Brannoch, and I told her the truth: nearly everything, and far more than an assassin would know. That said, Flora

--And here, he wipes sweat form his brow and begs his absent queen for strength--

ate the woman's other eye, then portions of her face, then simply bit out her throat, chewing and spitting out the tough flesh of the assassin's neck. Scottfort applauded his daughter's bravery. "If your words hadn't convinced me," he said, "then surely this stupid wretch would have." He helped his daughter to her feet. She licked at the blood covering her mouth and spat it out. She told me later that flesh was tainted by fear, not spiced, and the best meat came from those who happily give themselves up. He ordered the assassin's body disposed of, and told me that Dondoran's army was ready to back our efforts.

Why did Beigis try to assassinate Scottfort, and in such a poor fashion? We've received no intelligence on such a plot. I took a lock of hair from the assassin to see what we can draw from it, but her death is so recent and traumatic it is overwhelming many of her memories. The more your eye is blinded the greater a stain it is on your blameless reputation as the orchestrator of Limelin. We offer our deepest apologies for our failings, and swear we shall not be taken by surprise again. I know better than to fear an assassin's blade at your throat or poison at your lips, my Lady, but I worry for us. We are only so many, and Beigis is a wilier bastard than we thought.

I fear him nearly as much as I fear our new allies.

You have seen the water becalmed, of course. I am certain that Brian has slain Nepty and taken the Water Jewel; if he is intent on saving all four of the gems, he should be approaching Limelin soon. Guide him wisely, my Queen, as you guide me.

Tomorrow I shall try my hand at swaying Melrode Monastery. I go in Your name.

Yours always,
Leonardo Twice-Forged