Primal Sorcerer

Singularity Online 4

Kyle Johnson

Copyright © 2021 Kyle Johnson

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Once more, this is dedicated to Keri, who graciously allows me to live in her kingdom.  

Prologue

Lily floated above the battle below, her eyes watchful as her summoned minions tore into a group of uruks, easily overrunning the orc-like creatures.  Lily didn’t like uruks – the damn things smelled awful, they only talked in stupid grunts and snorts that she couldn’t even reproduce, much less understand, and they were nearly as dumb as rocks – but she needed a test group for the new Spell she’d uncovered, and these would work just fine.  If the Spell worked, she might keep the damn things, but she’d be more likely to use them as guinea pigs, seeing how much her Summoner bonuses helped them, and testing the extent of their loyalty to her.  Basically, she wanted to fuck around with them and see how much she could get away with.

Lily was a Wizard, but not just any goddamn Wizard.  She was a Summoner, a caster who specialized in capturing and controlling creatures.  She didn’t need a party; her minions filled pretty much every possible role except healer, and that wouldn’t help her anyway, not since that asshole god Morx tricked her into becoming an undead.  Now, healing magic burned her like fire; fortunately, she had a kick-ass regeneration ability to make up for that.  All in all, she couldn’t be too pissed at Morx; after all, his plan to capture her and force her into servitude had failed and left her way more powerful than any dumbass mortal caster would be. 

Of course, as a Traveler she was already immortal, but now she wouldn’t age, was immune to most poisons and diseases, and had massively boosted Stat scores thanks to the World’s First Title “First Reborn” that she’d gotten for being the first player to have a racial Evolution.  She was a badass caster and a badass fighter, now – at least, she could be if she wanted to be.  She hadn’t decided if she’d learn more about fighting, just yet.

Lily was a Summoner, but she wasn’t just a vanilla Summoner, either.  For most Summoners, gaining a new creature was complicated as fuck.  They had to learn a specific Spell that would bind that single type of creature, then they had to find one of those creatures, fight it until it was weakened to less than 10% of its normal LP, or Life Points, and then use the Spell to bind it.  Doing so let them store that creature in some extradimensional space, and they could recast the Spell to call their summons forth over and over again, even if the damn thing got killed in combat.  That was useful, because those summons could level up in combat just like a player could, so they would get more powerful over time.  A typical Summoner would have a half-dozen or so creatures at their beck and call and would use those in every battle.

Lily had learned a lot of secrets about magic, though, that even most of those damn elves didn’t know.  She was a Dream Haunter, meaning she could sneak into other people’s dreams and do whatever the hell she wanted in them.  Very few people in this made-up world called Ka could resist her, much less fight back, and Lily had become something of an expert on torture over the years.  Her new favorite hobby was to locate the dreams of some powerful Wizard and torture the fuck out of them until they shared some sort of useful magic with her.  It was fun, kind of cathartic, and had given her a huge boost to her magical abilities.

All that meant that Lily wasn’t limited the way most asshole Summoners were.  She had a powerful Ability that let her use the same Spell to capture any type of creature, and she could use that Spell to summon as many or as few of them as she wanted at once.  The downside to that was that they didn’t level up, and if they were killed, that was it.  She lost them.  However, she could literally have hundreds or even thousands of summons in her arsenal and call all of them at once, unleashing a fucking horde of monsters on some unwitting prey.  That was probably why her Advanced Class had been called Hordemistress, she supposed, not that it fucking mattered.  All she cared about was that the Class gave all of her creatures bonuses based on her Charisma Stat – which was pretty damn high at 138 – and boosted her own spellcasting, so long as her Spells were supporting or buffing her minions. 

Of course, she didn’t have that many summons right now.  She’d blown almost all of them to power her Evolution, and that asshole lich Zoridos that had enslaved her didn’t let her get any new ones because they might be a threat to him.  Since she’d left Antas, she’d managed to grab a dozen or so creatures, but she wasn’t anywhere near where she’d been before her transformation.

She was hoping to make up for those losses starting right now.  With her Evolution had come the chance to take an Evolved Class called Soulmistress, and she had jumped at that chance.  It gave her bonuses to all kinds of summoning shit, which was great, but more importantly, it let her use her Spells to capture and bind thinking creatures like the damn uruks.  Even though the uruks were stupid as shit, they were still aware, and creatures like that were supposed to be immune to a Summoner’s Spells.  They weren’t immune to Lily’s Spells anymore, though, and judging from how the battle was going, it was about time to test her newest Abilities.

Lily’s summons backed away from the battered, almost dead uruks at her silent, mental command.  She floated over to them, her pale white skin radiant in the sunlight – she’d learned a Spell to protect her undead flesh from the sun almost the first damn thing, of course – and her glossy, black hair flowing in an eldritch current.  That part of the transformation had pissed her off, at first, because she’d liked being a natural blonde, but her disguise Spell still worked, so she could take her old form any time she really wanted.  Her black-taloned hands moved dexterously and swiftly through the motions of her capture Spell, the arcane syllables spilling effortlessly from her ebony tongue.  She had no fucking idea what the words meant – she doubted they meant anything; the damn AIs running the game had probably just made up something that sounded good – but her Enhanced memory recalled the phrases in perfect clarity. 

Ebon cords shot from her fingers, snaking out toward the twenty or so badly wounded uruks.  Each cord sought out a single creature, wrapping around them from their feet to their necks like a constricting snake.  The cord then hesitated a moment before plunging into its victim’s eye, burying itself in their brain.  Lily knew it was doing more than just controlling their mind, though; the binding linked to their very soul, imprisoning it, and making it hers to command.  The uruks shuddered as the magic twined throughout them, taking control of every muscle and nerve, sinking into each cell of their bodies until the subject belonged utterly to her, mind, body, and soul.

The uruks’ bleeding stilled as her regenerative aura began to affect them as it did all her summons.  She watched for several seconds as wounds closed, new vigor flowed into the monsters, and they were completely healed of their wounds.  She grinned evilly; thanks to her bonuses, these uruks were probably now the match of a level 9 Traveler, and unlike her unintelligent summons, they could level up and get stronger.  They weren’t super useful yet, but they could be.  She’d have to play with them and see how she could permanently empower them; there was supposed to be a sage in one of the human kingdoms who’d practiced forcing Evolutions on lesser creatures.  She’d have to see if she could find their dreams and torture some of that info out of them. 

In the meantime, she wanted to see how far her control over them extended.  “You,” she rasped, her voice throatier and deeper than it had been before her Evolution, “stab the asshole next to you.”  The uruks didn’t understand Elvish, of course – the language she spoke naturally in the game – but it didn’t matter.  All of her summons could inherently understand not just her spoken words but her unspoken intent.  Speaking was just a shortcut for giving orders, not an integral part of the command.  Obediently, the uruk turned and plunged its short spear into the thigh of the pig-creature next to it, which didn’t even flinch from the wound since its mistress had silently willed it not to do so.

“Nice,” she cackled – Lily was honest enough to admit that her laugh would never be called warm, throaty, or really anything other than a cackle – then turned to the wounded creature.  “I want you to die,” she commanded.  Instantly, the uruk’s eyes rolled back in its head and it dropped to the ground, lifeless and unbreathing.  “Even better!” she crowed.

This – this was going to be fun.  That asshole Sorcerer Aranos had his party, sure, and they’d saved his ass from her last time the two of them had met.  Maybe, her inner voice corrected.  You were as weak as he was.   Lily sighed; the inner voice was always right, and there was no point to arguing with it.  Maybe she’d have beaten the asshole, maybe not, but his party had made it a moot point.  She definitely couldn’t have taken all of them, not without her summons.  Because of that, she’d made a decision, and this was the start of that. 

Aranos could keep his damn party.  She was going to raise a fucking army.

Chapter 1

The two massive ogrins roared as they barreled past the main line of heavily armored dabruks and charged at Aranos’ party.  The eight-foot-tall creatures had leathery, gray skin, huge, horn-covered fists, and were so massively muscled that they seemed almost deformed as they lumbered clumsily forward.  Their charge totally disrupted the organized shield wall of the human-sized, orcish dabruks, knocking the smaller and weaker creatures heedlessly out of their way and even trampling a few of them underfoot.  With the shield wall in tatters, the lightly armored uruk archers and pink-skinned kerruk spellcasters in the back of the formation were dreadfully exposed, and Aranos took immediate advantage of that fact.

He reached down into the river of mana flowing through the core of his being and pulled out strands of air, earth, fire, and water energy.  As he drew them through the mana channels running down his arms, he wove the streams together, hurling them out into the distance where they exploded in a storm of wind, razorlike shards of ice, and flaming pellets of lava that punched through the thin, leather armor of the uruks.  The kerruks’ magical barrier held for a few seconds, but the conflicting elemental energies tore destructively at the invisible shield, and it collapsed soon after, exposing the physically weak creatures to Aranos’ Fire and Ice Spell.

The ogrins ignored the conflagration behind them, their focus fixated solely on Hector as they lurched forward.  The short, broad, impressively bearded Magebane’s targeted taunt Ability, which Hector swore was called “Get Over Here” even though Aranos highly doubted it, was meant to lure spellcasters out of the back ranks into close combat.  In this case, the tank had used it on the pair of ogrins, causing them to charge heedlessly at him, even if that meant going through their companions to do so.  It was a powerful Ability, but now the grizzled Warrior had two huge creatures descending on him, and only his round shield and relatively light chain mail to protect him. 

Had it been Saphielle facing the creatures, Aranos wouldn’t have been concerned – the Bright Avenger had been so strong that she probably outmuscled the ogrins, even if she didn’t outweigh them, and her Immovable Ability and Shield Mastery would have let her absorb their charge, no problem – but Hector was new to being a full-on tank.  He hadn’t developed his Heavy Armor Mastery, yet, and he wasn’t used to a larger kite shield.  Plus, his double-bitted axe, while a wicked weapon, simply wasn’t as good at holding back foes as Saphielle’s spear had been.

Of course, it didn’t matter; Saphielle was gone, and as a native of Ka – an NPC, in gamer parlance – when she died, she didn’t come back.  Wishing that Hector was more like her was futile, and Aranos had to keep stopping himself from trying to encourage the Magebane to change his playstyle to match hers.  Hector would come into his own, but he needed to do it his way, not Aranos’. 

Fortunately, Hector wasn’t alone in this combat, though.  Before the ogrins could overrun him, thorn-covered vines an inch thick and three feet long erupted from the stony surface of the High Road, whipping at the legs of the ogrins and lashing around their calves and knees.  The thorns pierced the ogrins’ tough hide and anchored the vines in place, halting the ogrins instantly as the creatures roared and struggled to break free of Rhys’ Thorny Prison Spell.  The Druid had taken an Advanced Class called Nature’s Furor that upgraded most of his nature-based Spells and Abilities, including his healing Spells.  It also let him bond an Animal Companion, the way Aranos had with the celestial wolf Silma, but that would have to wait until they were out of the Blightlands and back in land claimed by the Light.

The Magebane rushed forward as the ogrins stumbled and lurched, trying to rip themselves free of the clinging vines and tearing jagged wounds in their flesh in the process.  He closed with the nearer of the two and lashed out with his axe, cutting deep into its upraised arm, then slid a heavy hammerlike fist off his shield.  The Warrior was far more agile than Saphielle had been, and he relied more on his speed and Dodge Skill to avoid attacks than absorbing them with armor.  It was an effective technique but a risky one; if one of the ogrins’ blows landed, it would damage the Magebane badly, and Hector didn’t have an LP pool much higher than Aranos’, mostly because he was a much lower level than the magically oriented Sorcerer.

The line of dabruks reformed and began to advance, but before they could take more than a couple steps, a pair of figures suddenly blurred into view behind them and tore into the rear of their line.  No longer concerned with the slaughtered archers and spellcasters that would have covered the dabruks’ rear, Geltheriel and Silma lashed forward, ripping and tearing into the creatures’ less-armored backs.  Geltheriel’s Shadedancer Abilities let her ignore most non-Enchanted armor, as did Silma’s Piercing Bite, and the pair moved with preternatural swiftness, dodging attacks and felling several of the dabruks.  The hapless creatures turned to engage the attackers, but the pair quickly retreated and vanished, Geltheriel slipping into the shadows and Silma teleporting away from combat before they could be overrun.

Aranos raised his hand and fired a Composite Bullet at the ogrin Hector wasn’t battling.  His Expert-ranked Arcane Archery Skill helped guide his aim, and the elemental bullet punched into the monster’s right eye, burying itself in the creature’s skull and exploding.  The ogrin roared and clutched at the shattered socket and exposed bone, falling to the ground as the vines binding its legs tightened.  Aranos readied another bullet, but before he could, Silma appeared next to the fallen monster.  The silver-furred wolf stood almost as tall as the ogrins did, now, and her body was as long as a horse’s.  Her fangs glowed with light mana as she darted in, her flexible truesilver chain barding shedding the heavy blows of the wounded creature effortlessly as she ripped open its throat and retreated, leaving it to bleed out on the ground.

Hector dodged another massive fist and slashed with his axe once more, this time opening a deep wound along the ogrin’s abdomen.  The Warrior jumped back as loops and coils of intestine spilled out from the horrific wound, splattering down the ogrin’s legs where they were quickly entwined by the thorny vines.  Aranos winced at that; he could almost feel his stomach gurgling as he imagined the thorns piercing his intestines.  Fortunately, Singularity Online was just a game; if that had happened in real life, IRL, Aranos would have felt horrible about it.

Singularity was a game, though, so he shook off the queasy feeling and sent a mental command to Silma and Geltheriel to stay back from the dabruks, who were advancing once more toward Hector.  Aranos reached into his SP pool again, this time pulling up strands of fire and life mana that he wove into lightning.  Seven spheres the size of ping-pong balls erupted from his outstretched palms and arced over the trapped ogrins, spreading out into a hexagonal pattern in the midst of the dabruks.  A moment later, the globes exploded into crackling arcs of lightning that ripped and tore through the ranks of the dabruks.  The creatures’ heavy brigandine armor attracted the storm of electricity, and most of the monsters fell, twitching on the ground as the lightning mana inflicted a Paralyzed debuff for the next several seconds – which was several seconds too long in this battle.

Hector rushed past the fatally wounded and still trapped ogrins and set upon the downed dabruks, while Silma and Geltheriel appeared along the creatures’ flanks.  The three Warriors fell on the downed creatures methodically with sword, axe, and fangs, and the badly wounded dabruks had only started to recover when Geltheriel’s blade cut through the throat of the last one, ending its life in a spray of dark blood.

Aranos closed his eyes and reached out with his Lifesense Skill, feeling the departing souls of the slain monsters and connecting to a half-dozen of them.  He activated his Soulmending Skill, soothing the terrified and pain-shrouded souls by sacrificing his own SP and LP.  In return, he felt new energy flowing back along the connections as the souls calmed and departed on their journey to whatever awaited them beyond the borders of Ka.  As he felt the soul points rushing into the reservoir in his core, he pulled up his notifications, ignoring the ones about damage and focusing on the XP awards.

The XP gains for these things is really just a pittance, he grimaced as he realized that he’d gotten less than 100 XP total for the entire encounter.  He had to admit, though, that the low gains made sense; he could probably have taken the entire group by himself if he’d really wanted, and Geltheriel and Silma could likely have done the same by themselves, using hit-and-run tactics.  The game awarded XP based on more than just creature levels, which weren’t always a great measure of power; it also took into account how difficult the encounter was and how likely you were to be wounded or killed. 

Considering it that way, Aranos was kind of surprised he’d gotten any gains at all.  His Arcane Armor could resist thousands of LP damage, more than the entire group of urukkai could probably have dished out if he’d just let them attack him, and he could have simply flown above them using his Massless Flight Spell and rained death down on the creatures if he’d really wanted to.  They hadn’t presented even the remotest danger to him.  Why did I get any XP at all, as a matter of fact?

“As a reward for using Hector’s Heedless Taunt Ability to disrupt the dabruk’s shield wall,” Veronica, his AI guide in the game, answered his silent question, as she tended to do.  Veronica could read his thoughts, of course – that was literally the entire point of the game, to allow the AIs to perform complete neural mappings of human brains under every sort of condition – but she still caught him by surprise when she did that. 

Oh, so that’s what it’s really called? Aranos chuckled silently a moment later.  Only he could hear Veronica’s brisk, professional voice, despite the fact that it sounded perfectly audible to him, but if he responded out loud, he was pretty sure everyone would hear him, just fine.  I kind of like his name better, to be honest.

“It’s simple and to the point,” the AI acknowledged.  “It’s too vague to be an official name, though.  People wouldn’t know what they were selecting without reading the description.”

Anyone who selects an Ability without reading it through first deserves whatever they get, Aranos snorted silently. 

“True, but we try to make the names at least somewhat intuitive.  It saves on the whining in the long run – and you humans do seem to enjoy your whining.  No need to give you more reasons to do it, is there?”  Aranos grinned as the woman’s presence faded from his mind and began to collect the fallen weapons and armor from the dabruks.  They were all low quality, but he wasn’t interested in reselling them.  The rather shoddy blades and armor were a source of metal, and thanks to his High Mastery Ability, he could transmute the iron of the arms and armor into more valuable and useful materials.

“That was well-fought, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel spoke aloud as Aranos’ Silent Communion Spell ended with the cessation of combat, taking away the party’s ability to speak telepathically.  The new Spell was incredibly useful for coordinating battles, but it couldn’t be used outside of combat yet.  Aranos was working on that, though, and he had hopes for creating a permanent version of the Spell at some point.

The tall, lean-muscled Shadedancer walked almost sinuously up to stand with the rest of the party in the black and gray lamellar armor that had been her reward for completing the first part of her Cleansing Quest.  “Having the Magebane taunt the ogrins into the dabruks’ line was clever.”  As she spoke, the woman brushed a strand of her honey-blonde hair out of her emerald green eyes and back over the pointed ears that all elves had in the game.

“I hadn’t thought about using it like that before,” Hector agreed with a laugh as he wiped down the edge of his axe.  “If I were faster or had a teleport Ability like Silma’s, I could taunt the biggest creature and drag it back and forth through the group.  That’s almost a cheat, doing it like that.”

“One might ask if a taunt Ability would continue to function if the user disappeared from the target’s view,” Rhys said nonchalantly, his long, lean face perfectly serious as he spoke.  “If not, would your teleport not leave those behind you – such as a vulnerable healer and Druid – open to attack from whatever you taunted?”

“Dammit, green-hair, that’s a good point, but now I can’t imagine making one of those ogrins stomp a bunch of uruks into paste,” Hector laughed.  “Thanks for ruining my fantasy!”

“If that is the extent of your fantasies, Magebane, I feel deep sorrow for the Shaman,” Geltheriel observed slyly.  “I shall have to question her as to whether your imagination is truly so limited.  I am sure she will be eager to share.”

“You feel free,” Hector laughed.  “Just don’t blame me if some of what you hear keeps you awake at nights, sister.  We’ve all got our peculiarities.”

“And some are far more peculiar than others,” Rhys agreed solemnly.  “However, so long as whatever Companion I eventually bond is safe, I find them to be none of my concern.”

Even Aranos laughed at that, although Silma looked askance at the bearded Warrior as if checking to see if Rhys might not have been joking.  “Okay, let’s check the tower and make sure we got all the defenders,” the Sorcerer spoke, bringing everyone back on track.  The creatures they’d just defeated had been the guardians of the High Road East Cendarta Waystation, the tower overlooking the High Road that Aranos and his party had slept in the night before they arrived in Antas.  Once they’d left the tower, the urukkai had moved back into it, although it had been much easier to take this time than the previous one.  The urukkai had spotted the party coming up the High Road – Hector’s Stealth Skill left quite a bit to be desired – and had formed up, ready for combat by the time the group arrived. 

Aranos’ Lifesense Skill didn’t sense anyone in the tower, but it only extended about 20’ in radius so it was possible that something still waited for them at the top of the waystation.  They moved forward cautiously, entering the tower and slipping up the stairs.  Silma ranged out in front, since even with her larger size, her Stealth Skill dwarfed everyone’s except Geltheriel’s, and the wolf’s senses were far better than the elf woman’s.

Several moments later, the fenrin’s voice echoed in Aranos’ mind.  I don’t sense any more of the creatures, Pack Leader.  I think this den is clear.

“Silma says we’re good,” Aranos sighed as they continued at a normal pace up the stairs to the top of the tower, where Aranos could reclaim it.  “It looks like what we fought was all the urukkai stationed here.”

“That’s strange,” Hector observed.  “This is the forward defensible position closest to Antas, which by now they have to know has been liberated.  Wouldn’t they put a huge defensive force here in case of an invasion?”

“It is possible that the urukkai are unaware of the demise of the qualintar of Antas,” Geltheriel countered.  “If that is the case, this would likely be the outpost they least aggressively defend, as the undead of Antas would not likely venture far from the city and would guard the High Road beyond this point quite effectively.”

“Unaware?” Hector asked quizzically.  “How would they be unaware when there was a global message about it?”

“One observes that those of the Shadow are not privy to the workings of the Light, any more than we of the Light know what occurs in the Realms of Darkness,” Rhys panned expressionlessly.  “Indeed, it would not be wise for the gods of Light to announce to the Shadow each event of great import within their borders.”

“The urukkai might not even realize that we’re out here at all,” Aranos added.  “When we came through here last time, we got attacked by a small army of urukkai, but they were killed or driven off by some giant creature that turned them all into dinner.  The survivors had fled by the time we killed it; they might think that it took us out after it finished with them.”

Hector grunted.  “Makes sense.  So, these things might not know that we’re retaking their tower?”

“It is certainly wiser to assume that they do, Magebane,” Geltheriel replied.  “Even should they not, they doubtlessly patrol to this point, and once my Oathbinder is complete with his work here, they will certainly be aware of our presence.  At best, we might remain undetected for a handful of hours, no more.”

Hector sighed.  “I was hoping we might just be able to slip on over to the next one undetected,” he admitted.  “But you’re right; they have to patrol this route, and we’ll run into one of their patrols at some point.  The best we can hope is to kill the entire patrol without letting any escape to buy us some more time.”

“At which point, they will send out larger patrols in this direction, assuming that something here destroyed the last,” Geltheriel shrugged.  “If we destroy that force, then the next will be larger.  Urukkai breed at a ridiculous rate, and there are always more dabruks, uruks, and bogez than a commander can use.”

“Those aren’t particularly dangerous, though,” Hector pointed out.  “We can kill dozens of them, no problem.”

“Indeed.  What of hundreds?  Thousands?  Tens of thousands?  The urukkai have had centuries to populate the citadel of Cendarta, and despite being some of the weakest creatures the Shadow may throw at us, they have held that stronghold against all others.  There may be a hundred thousand urukkai in the city, if not more, Magebane, and while not all of these will be of the Warrior caste and thus able to fight, perhaps half will be, as the urukkai are an aggressive and warlike people.  Would you face an army of fifty-thousand urukkai?”

“Hopefully, we won’t have to,” Aranos broke in.  “If this works the way I think it will, the urukkai will probably just leave this place alone from here on out and head north or west looking for entertainment.” 

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and envisioned the tower whole and pristine.  It was something he needed; he was hoping to restore the building’s functionality, but he couldn’t until repairs were effected.  If what he believed from studying in the Library of Antas was correct, this building would help secure his western borders, making sure the urukkai turned their attentions elsewhere.  After what he’d lost to claim Antas, he wasn’t about to give it up again, and he’d do whatever was needed to protect what he’d won.  This building was needed.

His need swelled in him, carrying a rising tide of mana from deep within the rivers of power flowing through him.  Golden energy burst from his outstretched hands, tinged with green and brown swirls that buried themselves in the tower.  Cracks sealed and repaired themselves as the aureate flames surged around the building, wrapping the tower in a slowly rising spiral of energy that burned away impurities and the lingering traces of Corruption that had leached into the stones themselves.

Power poured out of him in a glorious flood, but Aranos’ focus was on keeping that torrential flow contained and controlled.  Needed Reclamation was an Ascended Spell, a powerful work of sorcery that transcended the boundaries of normal spellcasting, but like all Ascended Spells, it was highly damaging to its caster.  Aranos had an idea that better control of the Spell would leave him less drained and vulnerable at the end of the casting, although he had nothing concrete on which to base that except some anecdotal evidence from his previous castings.  Even if he were wrong, though, the effort he was spending on controlling his mana flows would certainly benefit his Mana Mastery Skill, which had been stuck at Expert 1 for the past few days.

The golden fire raced up the tower, sheathing it in a brilliant aura that lit up the surrounding area and bathed the road nearby in its radiance.  The flames repaired damaged masonry, filled in chunks of missing stone, and regrew timbers where old ones had rotted away.  Collapsed wings of stone rose from the piles of rubble surrounding the sides of the tower, gluing themselves back together into one large and two smaller outbuildings.  Aranos felt the power drain from him as the restoring blaze reached the top of the tower, swirled around the peak, and finally dissipated into the air. 

He took a deep breath as weariness surged through his muscles and the Fatigued 2 debuff appeared in his status.  That would have given him penalties to Stamina regeneration if he had Stamina; he didn’t though, so the effects of the debuff were actually pretty minimal.  It made him feel worn out, but it didn’t actually hamper him in any functional way, which made it a vast improvement over the Exhausted debuff casting this Spell usually gave him and that left him unable to do anything but rest for an hour.  He wasn’t sure why the debuff was mitigated; it could have been from his efforts to contain and control his mana flows, but it also could have been because his Advanced Class of Sorcerer Ascendant reduced the side effects of casting Ascendant Spells.  In all likelihood, it was both; he guessed that his Class reduced the debuff from Exhausted to some level of Fatigued, while his controlled casting reduced that penalty to level 2.  The only way to know would be to practice casting it without control and see the difference, and he wasn’t interested in suffering a higher Fatigued debuff just to satisfy his curiosity.  Well, not that interested, anyway.

Aranos sat down on the now pristine floor of the waystation, staring out at the newly glassed-in window that overlooked the High Road as he waited to recover from the Spell.  Needed Reclamation was powerful, but it also dropped both his LP and his SP – his Spell Points – down to only 10% of their maximums.  Thanks to the benefits from his race change into a high arcane, he would recover quickly – less than thirty seconds for his LP, and about three minutes for his much higher SP – but during that time, he was pretty vulnerable. 

“Well, if they didn’t know we were here before, they’ll probably guess it now,” Hector grunted.  “We should probably assume a patrol will be here soon to see what the light show was.”

“It is likely that we will have at least an hour,” Geltheriel assured the man.  “Unless the patrol happened to be close – which is unlikely, since it is only late morning, and an intelligent commander would have a patrol’s route terminate at midday or sunset – they will need some time to reach us.  We should be alert, but it is doubtful we will suffer attack before my Oathbinder can place his warding Spell.”

Hector grunted.  “I assume you don’t mind if I pretend they’re going to be here in the next few minutes.  You know, just in case?”

“Probably the smartest thing to do,” Aranos agreed.  “I just need some time to recover.”  He looked at Silma.  “Think you can check to see if there’s a patrol anywhere nearby?”

Of course, I can, she replied dismissively.  I will return in an hour with news.   She slipped down the stairs, and by the time she exited the building, her stealthy form was hidden from Aranos’ sight.

“I’m still going to keep watch,” Hector persisted. 

“As will I,” Geltheriel nodded.  “I will remain above, where my bow is more useful, if you will guard below, Magebane.”  Hector inclined his head and disappeared down the stairs.  Geltheriel turned to look at Rhys.  “And you, Furor?  What will you do during this time?”

“I believe I will meditate and call for a Companion,” the Druid smiled.  “While I do not believe one will be found nearby, it is possible that some creature of the skies will hear my summons.  In any case, one observes that I will not know if I do not try.”

As the Druid sank down into a lotus position, Geltheriel glanced at Aranos, her eyes dubious.  Aranos didn’t blame her; just a few days ago, Rhys had betrayed the party and almost gotten them all killed.  Only Phil’s sudden transformation into a Paladin had saved the group, and while everyone knew that Rhys was being controlled and manipulated by Golloron, Geltheriel was naturally protective and suspicious. 

With a sigh, Aranos activated the ring on his finger and sent a thought silently to his Follower.  I’ll be fine.  My armor is still up; even if something happens, I can almost guarantee Rhys can’t get through that. 

Fine, Oathbinder.  However, if I return to find you bound in Rhys’ vines, I will mock you to no end.

Aranos grinned and closed his eyes.  He wasn’t going to meditate – while he didn’t think Rhys would attack him, that trust would have to be re-earned and would be some time in coming – but closing his eyes made it simpler for him to pull up his notifications:

You have Redeemed the location: High Road, East Cendarta Watchtower

This location is now a designated safe zone and will remain so until it is no longer Redeemed.  You may set this location as your spawn point.

Do you wish to make this location your spawn point (Yes/No)?

His status hadn’t changed much in the past three days, primarily because he’d been focusing on studying and rebuilding his newly claimed city while the rest of his party was out adventuring, killing undead and trying to get closer to his level.  They weren’t likely to – the undead remaining around the city were mostly several levels below the party, and until the humans in the group returned to the nearby human kingdom of Stoneleague to turn in their Quest to recover information lost when the Library of Antas fell, they wouldn’t get a big enough XP boost to really level up.  Still, all the party members except his Follower Geltheriel were new to their Advanced Classes, and they’d had some time to play around with them over the past few days and learn how to get the most use from them.  That was time well spent, as far as Aranos was concerned, as Hector had demonstrated today by using his Class’ new Ability.

Aranos, on the other hand, had spent most of that time on the page of his status that he was now pulling up: his City Management sheet.  He scrolled through it, looking at the list of both ruined and thus inoperable buildings and those that had been restored.  His first thought had been to rebuild the city’s Armory and Barracks, but Geltheriel had dissuaded him from both of those.  They would benefit the more combat-oriented members of the party, to be sure, but she reminded him that at some point, the humans would be returning to Stoneleague, and until they returned – assuming they did – any buildings he’d made for their benefit would be sitting unused. 

She was right; it made much more sense for Aranos to rebuild structures that would either help anyone in the city or would benefit him, personally.  It felt selfish, but he knew that he was going to be in Antas for a while – if, perhaps, not as long as his best friend and newly minted Paladin Phil thought he would be.  Aranos had repaired the city’s Well, restored the Hanging Gardens that would provide food for several thousand people eventually, and rebuilt the Arcanist’s Tower, which gave general boosts to all spellcasting Classes studying there and could be upgraded into something more specific later.

He’d also restored a ruined estate and claimed it for House Evenshade, his noble House, making Antas the headquarters and main home for his fledgling House.  He was planning to bring many of the Travelers who were in his House here at some point, but he had a lot of work to do before that could happen.  That was his next big project…and to make it happen, he had to finish this one.

He reached within himself and found his connection to the Tree-heart.  Through it, he could feel the life of the city pulsing within him, the Redeemed energy of the Heart yearning to fill him.  He knew that, if he wanted, he could draw on that power at any time and use it to boost his Spells, empower his Enchantments, or even strengthen his mind and body.  As a high arcane, he could freely shift energies around in his body, turning one type into another, and now that included the power of the Tree-heart.

That wasn’t his purpose at the moment, though.  So far, he hadn’t drawn more from the Heart than could be replenished in a day, because he didn’t really know how much energy he would need for his city, yet.  Instead, he shifted the flow of energy within him, not draining power from the Heart but channeling his own SP back into it. That was something he wasn’t sure other Heart-bonded could do; it didn’t show up in the Title’s descriptions, and it wasn’t an option on his City Screen.  He had a feeling it was a unique Ability that he had as a high arcane; he had total control over his body’s energies, and that meant he could do things with them that would be impossible for others.  Normally, a caster could tap their bonded Heart for mana, gaining 10 SP per point of energy, but Aranos could do the opposite, as well, recharging his Heart with his mana well.

This had been how he’d spent much of his last few nights; for 4 hours a night, he channeled SP into the Heart as quickly as he could regenerate it, giving the Heart a bit less than 3 energy points a second or ten-thousand or so per hour.  As soon as that energy went in, though, he channeled it back out – directly into expanding Antas’ Zone of Control, the area that fell under its influence and was warded by its defensive shields.  A single energy point could be used to push the city’s boundaries outward, annexing 100 square feet of area that didn’t have any hostile creatures within it.  That meant that each night, Aranos was adding another 30% or so to the city’s controlled area, and he’d been using that to create a corridor leading to the High Road – and to this Waystation.

He focused on his City screen and brought up the map of his territory.  The Waystation showed as a green blob touching the western edge of his lands, and when he concentrated on it, a simple notification appeared:

New Territory Available!
High Road Waystation, East Cendarta

Condition: Redeemed
Area: 113,289 square feet
Points Required: 1,020 (10% reduction due to Redeemed Condition)

Do you wish to add this territory (Yes/No)?

He selected ‘Yes’ and immediately began pouring over 10,000 SP into the channel connecting him to the Tree-heart.  The energy rushed from him and plunged into the Heart’s depths, replacing the power being drained from the Heart as quickly as it rushed out.

He opened his eyes and watched as a golden curtain swept through the room, leaving a pleasant tingle on his skin as it rushed to envelop the newly rebuilt tower.  In his city screen, the golden area denoting his Zone of Control slowly expanded outward, filling the circular green blob until the entire space was a gleaming, golden…

Aranos nearly smacked his forehead as he looked at the map and realized what he’d done.  He’d tried to maximize the efficiency of his efforts, so he’d added a long, narrow strip about 50’ wide that curved gently, following the High Road up to the Waystation, which was a large, circular shape at the terminus of that path.  Great.  A long, curved shaft with a big, bulbous tip at the end.  Meridian and Longfellow are never going to let me hear the end of this.  I just gave my city some junk.

Aranos sighed and waited for his SP to restore itself before casting his Elemental Ward Spell.  As he did, he activated his Spell Sculpting Skill, modifying the Ward so that it created a rectangular area that covered the width of the High Road but was thinner than the spherical Ward would have been.  It required a few thousand more SP to make it work, and Aranos winced at the cost, then shuddered as he crafted a Spell Anchor and dumped another ten thousand SP into it, which would make it last for a few days, even if it was activated.  Between the Spell and the city’s defensive wards, he figured it would take something like that army Geltheriel was talking about to retake the tower, especially since the Shadowborn creatures would be drastically weakened by the Redeemed ground the tower and its defenses stood on.

He opened his eyes as Silma’s voice rang in his head.  There are no patrols within an hour’s run, Pack Leader.  It seems the filthy ones are busy elsewhere for the moment.

He smiled at that bit of good fortune.  His city was shielded, his western flank was secure – reasonably so, at least – and he was finally ready to move forward with the next steps of his plans.

It was time to visit the lands of the humans.

Chapter 2

Aranos stood in front of the tall, crumbling tower that had once been the city of Antas’ Hall of High Enchantment, examining it critically.  The zone of necrotic energy the city’s former master, the qualintar named Zoridos, had held over the city for the last few centuries hadn’t exactly done the structures of Antas any favors.  While necrotic energy wouldn’t directly sap the strength from stone or metal, it apparently decayed and corroded wood pretty rapidly.  The Towers of Wizardry that still stood throughout the city had been raised by magic, but they were physical structures, as well.  As Aranos understood it from his readings about the city’s founding and history, the Towers had been built by a combination of stonework and carpentry and then empowered with mana to make them stronger and more resistant to wear, erosion, and damage.  By utilizing solid craftsmanship, the original builders minimized the amount of mana needed to empower the structure; it was a good lesson in how crafting was about skill as much as brute force, and one Aranos appreciated.

He scrolled through the list of structures he could theoretically build using his existing resources.  These included things like a Training Yard, a Merchant Square, a Crafting Hall, and a Stable, none of which he particularly had a use for, just yet.  He finally found what he was looking for and read through its description one, last time:

Hall of High Enchantment
Arcane Structure

This tower is dedicated to the lost art of High Enchantment, once practiced across human and elven lands but now all but forgotten since the Feast of Virnal.  It provides large bonuses to the potency and quality of items crafted within using High Enchantment and smaller bonuses to Enchanted or Runecrafted items. 

Note: This structure is artificially rare due to the associated Skill being lost to the Feast of Virnal.

Rarity: Artifact
Upkeep: 1 energy per structure level
Benefits: +5% per structure level to all bonuses for High Enchanted items crafted within.  +2% per structure level to all bonuses for Enchanted or Runecrafted items crafted within.  All items crafted within gain +1 max Enchantments and +1 max Runes.

Note: Because this structure already exists in your city and only needs to be restored, it will start at Level 3 rather than Level 1.

Requirements: 5,000 Stone (waived), 2,000 Lumber, 2,000 Ore (waived), 1,500 Glass (waived), 500 Crystal, 30,000 mana.

Do you wish to construct this building? (Yes/No)

Aranos winced at the crystal and mana requirements to create the tower; it would require almost all of his SP to create it and take a big bite out of the reserves of wood and crystal he’d accumulated by destroying buildings he didn’t see a need for, like the Diviner’s Observatory or the Artificer’s College.  He’d first checked to make sure the Library had copies of the blueprints to those buildings before destroying them, though, just in case he found a use for them later.  Fortunately, the building’s stone and metal requirements were met by the crumbling hulk that still stood before him; even so, this was the most expensive building he’d reclaimed in the city so far.

The mana requirement would have to be paid from his own pool, of course.  He could take 3000 energy points from the Tree-heart instead, but then he’d just have to replace those energy points with his SP, anyway.  It was six of one, half-dozen of another, really, and he didn’t see the point in putting off the mana cost when he could afford to pay it at once.  It wouldn’t be comfortable to give up that many SP in one burst, but it was at least within his abilities – if just barely.

Sighing, he selected ‘Yes’ and shuddered as mana was yanked from his body in a torrent, swirling around the tower and sinking into the white stone exterior.  The rush of energy would probably have been quite painful if not for his Fortitude Skill that nearly eliminated the effects of pain and mental attacks.  Instead, the power created an unpleasant sort of heat in his body, one that filled him with a strange rush of adrenaline as the secondary effects of his Skill kicked in and boosted his Physical Stats. 

He ignored the sensations and focused on controlling that flow, forcing his SP to run through the channels he’d built for that purpose.  The swirls of power roiled in his veins, flowing out of the core of energy within him, pouring forth as he watched the SP bar in his display sink slowly toward zero.  A minute later, the surge of energy slowed and finally stopped, leaving him with a whopping 1,940 SP remaining.  He smiled inwardly; there was a time not too long ago that he would have considered that a staggering amount of mana.  Now, it meant he was down to dregs and nearing Mana Depletion.

Aranos groaned as a wave of purely mental weariness rolled over him, but he forced himself to walk up the now-pristine steps to the Hall.  He and the other party members were going to be leaving in the morning to travel to Stoneleague, the nearest human kingdom, and he wanted to be as ready as possible.  While he was confident in his Spells and the abilities of his companions, he was less confident about their store of Enchanted items.   So far, he’d only replaced a few of the items he’d lost to his Fire of the Martyr Spell, and he really wanted to try some of the new High Enchantment techniques he’d read about in the Library. 

Plus, Aranos suspected that he at least might be somewhat less than welcome in Stoneleague; they all might, to be honest.  Aranos had discovered that the rulers of the various elven cities were all part of a web of betrayal to the people of the Light.  Golloron – and presumably, the other elf elders – was part of a deal with the Darkness to end the Feast of Virnal by giving the Darkness tribute in return for withdrawing from their lands.  Daily, the elves sent their warriors out to fight and die to the creatures of Shadow and forswore any attempt to retake any of their lost land – something that Aranos realized would have been simple for any Heart-bonded by using the city’s Tree-heart to expand their borders and push back the encroaching Blight.  If nothing else, realizing that this was possible would have clued him in to Golloron’s treachery against his own people. 

Technically, Aranos supposed, that wasn’t fair.  He hadn’t been in the game during the Feast, when the gods of Light were shut away from the world and Nightmare Beasts savaged the lands.  He could understand rulers being so desperate to save their people that they made deals with literal devils; he’d felt the temptation the gods of Darkness could present with their honeyed promises.  However, that had been centuries ago, and in that time, the elven rulers had never seriously attempted to fight back.  In fact, when Aranos had begun to reclaim lands from the Darkness, Golloron had sent Geltheriel and him to die or worse at the hands of Zoridos.  Golloron believed that he had a détente of sorts with the Darkness, thinking that somehow, he wasn’t simply another of the Shadow’s tools.

Aranos had broken this truce by first reclaiming the Fallen Realm of Haerobel from the Darkness, then purifying Eredain’s Tree-heart so that Golloron couldn’t use it to Corrupt the elves of Eredain any further, and finally by killing Zoridos and restoring Antas to the Light.  This last act had pushed Golloron over the edge, and now Aranos considered the two of them to be locked in a kind of silent war for the elves of Eredain, and perhaps beyond.  That war might very well spill over into the Human Kingdoms if whoever was in charge of Stoneleague was also a willing party to the elder’s secret.  If Aranos and his party were recognized – as they surely would be, eventually – they might find themselves with a large price on their heads.

He pulled open the arched, double doors to the Hall and stepped inside. The lowest level of the tower was mostly empty, a single entrance hall lit by gleaming crystals twenty feet overhead, with arched, open doorways to each side.  Peering through those doors revealed a series of antechambers that looked almost like waiting rooms; perhaps, once upon a time, the Hall had been busy enough that supplicants were forced to wait until space was available.  Aranos didn’t know, and honestly, it didn’t matter.

He walked around the room until he saw a sealed, stone doorway with a fairly simple runeform etched along its periphery.  Aranos deciphered it easily; it was one of the more basic sealing Runes, and unsealing it was a simple matter of tracing a reverse of the binding rune over top of the one inlaid in the stone; that disrupted the runeform for a few seconds, just long enough for him to pull open the door, revealing a set of stone stairs that curled upward to the next level.

The second level was nothing but Runecrafting stations, twenty of them in total, with basic tools that Aranos’ Appraise Skill told him were Standard quality and no more than Uncommon rarity.  He could use tools like these to craft his runes, of course, but he’d do better using his High Mastery Ability to forge a perfect athame out of deepsteel or truesilver, even if it would just be temporary.  So, this is where beginning Runecrafters work, he realized.  I wonder if the higher I go, the better quality everything is?

The stone door leading to the third level was sealed by an Enchantment, again a very basic and simple locking Enchantment that he easily diverted.  The door swung noiselessly open, and he ascended once more to the third level.  This floor was obviously designed for Enchanters to practice their craft; each room had a simple, unaspected mana crystal embedded in the ceiling that would allow an Enchanter to draw more SP than normal and replenish lost SP more quickly.  There were also tables and stands for holding equipment to be Enchanted, and everything was heavily reinforced; an Enchanter didn’t need any tools except their own minds and wills to perform their art, but when Enchantments went awry, they tended to do so explosively, unlike Runes, which just failed or melted the item in question.

The next door was sealed with an actual High Enchantment.  Aranos studied the linked Runes and Enchantments and quickly deduced that the door wasn’t just held shut; the Enchantment actually bonded the stone of the door to the granite walls, making them a single, solid piece.  No one’s breaking this thing down, he thought ruefully.  Even Saphielle would have had trouble…

Aranos swallowed as a sharp pang shot through his chest at the memory of the small, lithe Avenger.  Saphielle had sacrificed her life to allow Aranos to defeat Zoridos, and while he’d fulfilled his promise to her and finished the lich, the pain of her loss still ached in his chest.  He knew that she wasn’t real – she’d been nothing but a digital construct that the AIs had created and given a remarkable semblance of life – but in their time together, she’d seemed and felt real to him, and his heart ached as if she’d been a living, breathing person. 

He turned his thoughts away from that particular bent; nothing good would come from lingering on those memories, at least not when there were things to be done.  He reached out to the sealed door with his Sense Mana Skill and shifted the energy flows, temporarily breaking the connection between the runeform detailing how the door would extrude stone tendrils into the surrounding wall and the Enchantment that softened the wall, allowing the tendrils to sink deep into it.  Their power cut off, the fingers of stone holding the door shut shivered into dust, and the door swung free.

The fourth floor was the first area that Aranos could see was designed specifically for High Enchantments.  Anyone without the Skill wouldn’t have even been able to make it to this level, but those with that Skill would find the room exquisitely designed for their purposes.  Each room had multiple aspected mana crystals, allowing the crafter to draw only on the specific elemental mana they needed, and was stocked with Fine quality tools made of golden brown auril, a very hard metal that conducted mana well and would allow an Enchanter to channel power into their Runes as they worked.  Empty bookshelves lined the rooms where once tomes detailing various Runes and Enchantments had likely sat; Aranos would have to get copies of the works on High Enchantment from the Parmassae, the librarians of Antas, and keep them up here where he could refer to them at leisure while he worked.

For the moment, though, he crossed this space, ignoring the temptation he felt to stop and use the finely crafted tools and radiant crystals to craft just a single item.  So far, each floor had been better than the one below, and he was hoping that would continue.  He moved to the stone door sealing the stairs heading up and paused. 

The door was sealed with a High Enchantment, but it was a more complex and layered one.  Each runeform was composed of smaller, supporting runes that more clearly defined how they would function, and every Enchantment twisted in three dimensions, connecting not just with the runes but with other Enchantments in a nearly dizzying labyrinth of magic.  At first, his mind balked at the sheer complexity of the construction, but he forced himself to stop and analyze the Enchantment rationally.

Every runeform begins with an initiation rune, he reminded himself.  Focus on those, and the runes at least will become clear.  He let his eyes wander, picking out the various initiation points, places where energy went into a runeform before being channeled into useful work.  Once he had those down, he studied them, picking apart the runes and analyzing the sub-runes until he understood what each meant to do. 

Without the Enchantments, though, that knowledge is useless, he realized.  It’s like hearing every other word of a story.  You get the idea, but you’re missing out on a lot, and there are some things you’ll get wrong.  Unfortunately, an Enchantment this complex also probably had a thousand or more SP running through it, and if Aranos got it wrong, well – there was a decent chance he’d be looking at a respawn.

He stared at the Enchantments; individually, they all made sense to him.  This one had to do with channeling force, while that one was all about muffling sound.  However, reading them naively in the order they occurred in the Enchantment left him with a bunch of nonsense; how could an Enchantment open the wall, brace the door, stand still, and twist all at the same time? 

He felt frustration rising in him at the nonsensical nature of the patterns, and he forced himself to take a mental step backward.  He was focusing too much on the individual details of the Enchantments; there was a reason that the Spells in the door were woven in a weblike fashion, and while he’d read the theory in his books, he’d never seen it put into practice.  Actually seeing the spellforms was a different experience entirely. 

Instead of trying to parse out individual Enchantments, he let his mind relax and his thoughts drift. His eyes unfocused as he allowed the web of magic to float in his thoughts.  It was beautiful, in a way, with the elegance of a spiderweb.  This construction, though, radiated out through three dimensions, dipping in and out of the stone, rising and descending at seemingly random intervals…

His eyes widened as the pattern became clear in his mind, and everything he’d read suddenly seemed to click.  The Enchantments – their placement isn’t just about where they should be in the linear circuit with the runeforms, he realized.  How they’re set in the third dimension tells when they’re supposed to be activated, and what other Enchantments they modify!

Eagerly, he found the initiation point of the entire construct and read through it again, this time modifying each Enchantment based on those linked to it and the depth at which they were placed.  Wow, that’s a powerful Enchantment, he marveled as the pieces fell into place in his mind.  It’s not binding the door to the stone or the floor; it’s sealing it onto the fabric of space itself! No matter how much force was applied to the door, it would never move – well, he amended, unless the force applied pulverized the door, of course.  Even then, the dust and debris of the door would be held in place, immovable.  The door was quite literally bound to the world.

His mind swept through the construction, analyzing it and memorizing as much of it as possible.  Once he had it implanted in his mind as clearly as he could manage – aided by copious notes he took in his player journal and a couple of screenshots – he located the nexus point where the tendrils of mana met before branching out to seal the doorway against entry.  He shifted that flow, and instantly, the Enchantment faltered, just long enough for him to pull the door open and make his way to the fifth floor.

The next door, he realized, wasn’t going to be possible for him to open.  Just staring at it made his head spin; it had multiple layers of nested runes, some so small his Perception wasn’t sufficient to read them, and the Enchantments were entwined in a ridiculously complex series of layers that he could barely perceive, much less understand. 

Fortunately, the crafting stations on this floor were exquisite and easily sufficient for his needs.  Each room had multiple mana crystals, and each table in the room was bedecked with a sphere of blue-silver hauratite, a lead-like metal that had a massive capacity to store mana.  The tools were made of truesilver with auril inlays and tipped with what looked like diamond; that athame could easily carve the tiniest runes Aranos could manage into any metal softer than deepsteel, the hardest substance he’d found yet in this world.  The bookshelves were made of marble and had stone doors that would hopefully help protect any works within from the incidental damage of failed Enchantments, of which Aranos was certain there would be a few.  There was even a forge in one corner, currently cold and bereft of fuel, complete with hammers, tongs, chisels, and other smithing tools. 

He chose one of the rooms randomly, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him, just in case an explosion did end up happening.  He moved to the largest table and reached into his Storage Pack, pulling out a battered and badly rusted round shield he’d found in the shattered remnants of the city’s armory.  Zoridos probably hadn’t seen much use for the building, so he hadn’t bothered to maintain it, and most of the weapons and armor inside had turned to rust or been essentially unusable.  The shield had been one of a handful of items that was stored away in a small, subterranean storage chamber and had resisted the ravages of time fairly well, but in its current state, it was basically worthless.

He also withdrew a handful of rusted blades from the same storage chamber.  He laid the shield on a raised stand that had probably been designed for that purpose, then placed the blades on top of the piece of armor.  He closed his eyes and reached out with his High Mastery, his mind sifting through the corrupted and corroded metal mana of the items.  He drew the unsullied grains of metal down into the shield, pushing the impurities toward the surface.  It took several minutes and several hundred SP, and when he was done, he opened his eyes and looked at the results of his work.

At first glance, the shield looked worse than it had, if anything.  It resembled a shallow bowl, inside of which was a slurry of brown-orange corrosion that moved like mud.  He picked up the shield with a tiny tinge of revulsion – the leftover sludge reeked of rust and looked positively foul, but he’d seen and smelled a lot worse here in the game – and carried it over to the cold forge.  He tipped the bowl into the coal bin, letting the muck splatter into the darkness of the container; it wasn’t the best idea, but if he was going to use this forge, he’d be providing the heat himself, in all likelihood.  Besides, it was better than dumping it on the floor, which was the other obvious option.  Or, you could have used High Mastery to fashion a dump container from the stone walls and floor.  He sighed.  He could have done that, and he probably should have, but what was done was done.

He used a cloth to wipe the last of the muck off the now gleaming and pristine shield, then placed it back on its stand.  He stepped back and took out several sheets of paper, laying them on the table.  He spent ten minutes analyzing the shield’s structure and sketching out the Runes and Enchantments he wanted to place on it; this shield was going to help Hector be a more effective tank, but he wanted to accentuate the Magebane’s chosen fighting style and shore up any weak spots he might have.  The shield he’d made previously for the man was more of a generic thing, because he hadn’t imagined that Hector would become their primary tank anytime soon.

However, he was now, and that meant he needed better, more customized gear.  This shield was going to be something of an experiment, Aranos’ first attempt at adding layered Enchantments to his works.  If he failed, it wasn’t a big deal; Hector did have a shield, after all, and it worked just fine.  If he was successful, though, he hoped it was something he’d be able to do to everyone’s gear – and it would probably be a useful step on the path toward completing Geltheriel’s Cleansing Quest.

That was bothering him a bit.  The Cleansing Quest had updated when he’d defeated Zoridos and liberated Antas, of course, but the second portion of it was terribly imprecise:

Cleansing Quest Updated: A Door Between Realms

Quest Objective: Discover the secrets of the Arcane Doors and restore them to full functionality.
Difficulty: S
Reward: +50,000 XP, New Title, Cleansed of all accumulated CP, ???
Failure Conditions: Fail to complete any objective within the time limit, Geltheriel dies

Second Objective: Discover the Hidden Secret of Portals

Objective: Learn how to build a permanent portal without chance of failure.
Objective: Journey to human lands to discover their lore of portal magic.
Objective: Discover how to build a permanent portal arch.
Difficulty: A
Reward: +25,000 XP, Title, ???
Failure Conditions: Fail to create a permanent portal within 30 days, Geltheriel dies
Failure Penalty: -25,000 XP

That didn’t give him a lot to work with, really.  The last part of the Quest had been very specific; he had to enter the Vault and read the works of Namestra.  He’d done that, and in so doing he’d learned a lot about the elven portion of the Arcane Doors, which mostly involved using High Enchanting on the doors and arches supporting them.  Dwarves had built the doors, and humans had done the actual magic to create the portals.  The elven work turned the doorways into anchors that stabilized the portals, but it didn’t create the portals themselves.  Aranos had learned a lot about those anchors, but he couldn’t make one; for one thing, the Enchantments used would only work on an archway built exactly as an Arcane Door was, and Aranos doubted he could find dwarves to teach him how to build an Arcane Door.  For another, he didn’t even fully understand the Enchantments; they were simply too complex for him.

Which was why he was here, now, trying something new.  He examined his designs critically, making minor alterations and nudging the connections between various points of the elaborate web he’d created.  It all looked good, but he knew that appearances could deceive where Enchanting was concerned.  After another few minutes, he took a deep breath; at this point, he was just putting off the inevitable.  There was nothing to do but try and see how well he really understood the concept of layered Enchantments.

His mind sank down into the shield, altering the grain, pulling the crystals into an alignment that was far stronger and yet less dense than the steel had been.  He layered a thin sheet of truesilver across the front of the shield; the rest he slowly altered into auril, which would hold and conduct the magical energies he was going to use far more effectively.  He created a node of soft hauratite in the center of the shield’s underside, a disc that would hold as much mana as a gem of similar size. 

He picked up the athame and began to trace out the runeforms he wanted in the hard, golden metal.  His senses guided his hand as he slowly and laboriously etched the runes into the underside of the shield, laying them out in what would seem like a random pattern but that was carefully designed to work around the shield’s natural binding points.

It took him over an hour just to etch the runes and sub-runes he wanted.  At last, he set down the athame and shook out his tired hand; while he hadn’t been in any danger of running out of Stamina, the game inflicted a small but cumulative Dexterity penalty on anyone performing delicate work like scribing, etching, or Goldsmithing.  He couldn’t see the penalty in his status, but he could feel it as a rising ache in his hand that had forced him to stop every so often and let the penalty subside.  Even a tiny mistake in his work here would probably be disastrous.

He then spent another thirty minutes weaving the Enchantments he wanted into the shield.  The sheet of metal wasn’t particularly thick, but his Sense Mana Skill let him perceive the individual grains of the shield’s crystal lattice, so he had no problem tracing his Spells through unique layers and linking them to the main structure.  This part was simpler than etching the runes, since he could do the entire thing just through an effort of will, but in some ways it was more mentally taxing, and it definitely took a larger outlay of SP.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and stepped back.  Everything was set; there were only three more steps to creating the Enchantment.  First, he linked the ends of his Enchantment webs into the initiation points of his Runes, then connected the termination runes of each runeform into the next group of Enchantments.  Second, he poured SP into the hauratite core of the shield, dumping 500 SP into the disc.  It could take more, but he was hesitant to add any extra; if this went wrong, the size of the catastrophe would be directly proportional to the amount of mana he put into it. 

Before he took the final step, Aranos checked to make sure his Arcane Armor was fully powered and placed his paper tracings into his storage.  If this worked, he’d want them to refer to later; if it didn’t, he’d want to use them to figure out what went wrong.  Taking a deep breath, he connected the pulsing core of mana to the runes he’d so carefully etched, allowing the energy to flow carefully into the construct…

Aranos was slammed into the wall as the shield exploded, the shockwave lifting him from his feet and tossing him like a rag doll.  Shards of flaming, molten metal sparked and clanged against his armor and speckled the walls, making the room look like some toddler had flung handfuls of metallic paint all over.  His ears rung from the sound of the explosion in the small room, and a quick glance at his status confirmed what he’d suspected:

Aranos, Lord Evenshade, Heart-Bonded of Antas
Age: 26
Race: High Arcane
Adv. Class: Sorcerer Ascendant ​ XP: 69,073/171,000
Level: 9
Class: Sorcerer ​ ​ XP: 106,502/120,000
Level: 15
Profession: Scholar ​ XP: 475/500
Abilities:

Str: 54 (94)           Dex: 57 (97)    ​

Agil: 58 (98)   ​ End: 54 (94)
Int: 146 (187)   Wis: 155 (196)​

P er:   59 (100)     Cha: 156 (197)

LP: 2,766 /2,766 ​ Regen: 202.4/s
SP: 31,940 /31,940     Regen: 202.4/s, 288.1/s meditating
Stamina: N/A

Soul Points: 74

Current Debuffs: Deafened (30s)

Yep, the explosion had deafened him, which explained the muffled ringing in his ears.  That was fortunately the only damage done to him; he suspected that he’d be suffering a Stunned debuff if it weren’t for his Fortitude Skill, and if he hadn’t had his Arcane Armor active, there was a decent chance that he’d be sitting in the respawn room right now, watching a replay of the explosion and trying to figure out what went wrong.

He climbed back to his feet, shaking his head.  I think I tried too much, too quickly, he said ruefully.  There’s no way to know what went wrong, there, because I was trying so many things at once.  I’ll need to start more slowly and work my way up to something as complex as the shield.

Sighing, he moved around the room, coaxing the chunks of metal off the walls and floor and into a single, heavy globe that he purified into high steel.  He placed the ball in his pack and took out something simpler: a basic, gold ring, unadorned and somewhat corroded by time and exposure.  He settled in as his mind flitted through the plain piece of jewelry; it was going to be a long night of experimenting, channeling power into the Tree-heart, and Skill training.

He walked out of the Hall of High Enchantment in considerably better spirits the next morning as he headed for the Treehome, the center of the city and the place that most of the party except for Hector and Meridian were staying.  He’d learned a fair bit about what he’d done wrong with the shield; not enough to be confident trying it again, but enough to know that he had a lot more to learn. 

First, he’d discovered that layering Enchantments in the highly conductive auril was a bad idea, at least at his proficiency level.  The metal allowed the tiny bits of excess mana that each Enchantment inevitably leaked to flow between nearby Enchantments, creating linkages and pathways he hadn’t intended to make.  He thought that if he could make more precise spellforms, he could minimize or even eliminate that leakage, but he had a feeling that sort of thing would be part of becoming a Master of High Enchanting. 

Second, he’d learned that layering different metals could be dangerous, especially with the kind of power flows he was employing.  Truesilver and auril had different properties, including thermal expansion and melting point, and when one expanded much faster than the other, it added lots of stress to the structure.  At the same time, auril was almost a superconductor, channeling energy so readily that it could be used to imprison spellcasters by radiating out their mana faster than they could draw it.  Truesilver was notoriously nonconductive, so power – and heat – had built up at the boundary of the two metals, causing the truesilver to expand quickly and shattering the softened, overheated auril. 

What he hadn’t figured out was why it had happened so quickly or so explosively.  He hadn’t put that much mana into the shield; he could see it slowly overheating and shattering, but not exploding instantaneously.  Somehow, the mana in the shield had grown exponentially, probably stealing energy from the mana-rich room, creating a runaway process that melted the auril and truesilver – two substances that were very resistant to melting – and caused them to explode from the sudden heat buildup.  To work that out, he’d need to replicate the individual bits of the full Enchantment, and he simply hadn’t had time to do that and to craft the other items he’d wanted to make.  That would have to be a slower, more gradual process, especially if he didn’t want to create another explosion.

The sun was just peeking over the eastern walls of the city when Aranos stepped through the front doors of the Treehome.  The others were gathered together in what had once been a formal dining room, at least judging from the long, ornate wooden table that had once filled the space but had turned into a cracked and crumbling ruin under the pressure of the necrotic energy filling the city.  Rhys had replaced it with a table he literally grew from four seeds; Aranos could sort of grow a tree, but the Druid’s Spells were far better at it and gave him a lot more control.  His party was seated around the table, and Aranos’ stomach rumbled at the sight of the simple rations they were eating for breakfast.

“Good morning,” Phil called as Aranos walked into the room.  The Paladin was a large man with an open, friendly face, bright blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed van Dyke beard and mustache.  He was also Jeff’s oldest friend IRL and perpetual gaming buddy.  “How did your Enchanting go?”

“Explosively,” Aranos replied, twisting his lips ruefully.   “Literally.  The shield I was trying to make blew up.”

“You don’t seem much the worse for wear,” Longfellow observed in his London accent, his smile radiant against his dark skin.  “Or did you give yourself some new holes that we just can’t see?  Come on, give us a proper look.”

“Sorry, I had my armor on at the time,” Aranos chuckled.  “No new orifices.  It did deafen me for a bit, though, if that helps.”

“Did you at least figure out why it happened?” Meridian asked in her Southern drawl, absently petting the white-plumaged sitchie resting quietly on her shoulder.  The tiny life creature that was Meridian’s Evolved spirit looked almost like a snowy owl, save that its face was a carbon copy of Meridian’s – right down to her crimson tresses – and that it had humanlike legs descending from its body.  Well, that and the fact that it glowed with a soft, golden light that most snowy owls Aranos had seen didn’t seem to possess.  “You know, just so we all know you won’t blow us up one night?”

“Not yet, but I won’t be trying again until I do,” he assured them with a grin.  “When I’m ready, though, I’ll make sure to do it right next to your tent, Meridian, so you can enjoy the full effects in case things go wrong.”

“Just make sure I’m not in it when you do, and I’ll be fine,” the woman laughed.  “Or, if I am inside, make sure Hector’s with me.  I can use him as a human shield.”

“Hey!” Hector protested, then stopped and got a thoughtful look.  “Actually, I’m cool with that.  That would be a seriously interesting ‘Latest Death’ replay.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Aranos sat down with the party, pulling out some of his rations and digging in.  He could survive indefinitely without food in any sort of forest or woodlands, but here in the city, he needed to eat and drink or start suffering debuffs.  Thanks to his efforts last night, Antas’ Zone of Control now reached out another 100’ in every direction, meaning it encompassed a bit of the surrounding forests, but those would take time to regrow from the Blight damage they’d suffered, and until the land had healed, he wouldn’t be able to call on its strength.

“So, we’re going to head out today?” McBane mumbled curiously, his very faint Irish accent almost undetectable around the mouthful of food he was chewing. 

“One wonders if Travelers do not learn that it is poor manners to speak with a mouth filled with food,” Rhys grinned at the black-armored Rogue.  “Not to mention the hazard of choking.  While it is certain you will return from such a death, Giantbane, it is equally certain your companions will mock you mercilessly for doing so.”

McBane swallowed his food as dramatically as possible.  “There, that better, Druid?  As I was saying, we’re leaving the city this morning, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Aranos acknowledged.  “That should get us to Stoneleague in, what, three days?”

“Two with the movement bonuses your Leadership Skill grants, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel corrected.  “We will also likely find it an easier trip than the one we made to this place, as we will be in a larger and more powerful group, and with the High Road to the west barricaded, the urukkai should not be able to easily receive reinforcements.”

“We might be able to clear the entire High Road back to Stoneleague,” Phil suggested, his voice eager.

“That is unlikely, Paladin, as the road still runs through a valley in the Eredrasse, the Horned Mountains that have not been retaken,” Geltheriel shook her head.  “Even should we destroy every beast upon the road, more will creep down from the peaks and infest the passage behind us.”

“We can take and Redeem the Waystations, though,” Aranos smiled.  “While that won’t make the road totally secure, it’ll certainly make it a lot safer to travel; safe enough, hopefully, that more people from the human kingdoms will want to come here.”

“That won’t be the issue,” Martina pointed out, grimacing, the expression mildly frightening on her ashen skinned face, the dark lips and deep, black eyes that had come with her Evolution into a Daywalker lending a startling aspect to her every expression.  “If nothing else, Travelers will be chomping at the bit to come here, and I’m sure the guilds would love to expand into a city that’s so close to the elves, especially one that’s mostly empty.”

“But his Heart-bondedness won’t want all of them coming here, will he?” Longfellow laughed.  “That brings up quite a question, too.  How will you decide who gets to come here and who doesn’t without making the powers-that-be all grouchy?”

“I’m working on it,” Aranos assured the Archer.  “I’ve got a Spell in development that should help boost my Sense Intent Skill.”

“Well, that does give me more confidence than, say, Phil telling me he’s working on it,” Longfellow grinned.  “I’d mention something about Meridian working on it, but I don’t want to offend her boy toy.”

“I’m tough to offend, brother,” Hector chuckled.  “Although the same can’t be said for Miss Short Stuff, and you don’t want to get on her bad side, or she’ll sic Sparky the bird-thing on you.  Trust me, you do not want to wake up with that thing standing on your chest some morning.”

“First of all, I don’t have a bad side,” Meridian corrected archly.  “All of my sides are equally amazing.  Second of all, Sparky was just playing.  She wasn’t trying to suck out your soul or anything.  At least, as far as you know.”  She leaned toward Longfellow with a grin.  “Although just for you, Shortfellow, I’d be happy to teach her that trick.”

“No, I’m good,” the man replied hastily, waving a hand.  “If I’m going to wake up and find some woman’s face hovering over mine, I’d deeply prefer that she not have wings and feathers and the like.  At least, not covering all the good bits.”

The High Roads that once connected the cities of Ka had long ago fallen to the Darkness, and traveling on them was a dangerous experience.  On the way from Eredain to Antas, Aranos’ party had mostly faced attacks from the urukkai, since the creatures seemed to be occupying the citadel of Cendarta that guarded the roads leading into former elven lands.  He’d found out that Phil’s party had encounters with the creatures, as well, and Aranos assumed that meant that either there was a second stronghold of the Shadowborn humanoids buried somewhere in the mountains, or the urukkai had been traveling past Antas relatively unmolested, likely trying to keep the humans from Stoneleague from using the roads.

Aranos decided his second thought was probably the correct one when the party didn’t encounter a single urukkai patrol the entire first day.  They were waylaid by plenty of Shadowborn monsters – from a flight of huge, ravenlike poukas to a pair of massive ursusz that resembled huge, black-furred bears – but none of the orc-like creatures.  His Tracking Skill, though, told him that this was something of a recent development; there were myriad trails of urukkai bands that his Master-ranked Skill showed him very clearly, and the most recent were only a few days old.

They traveled swiftly along the High Road, and during the battles Aranos hung back as much as possible, allowing the party members to claim the larger share of the XP.  Except for the three reptilian munjuins, whose inky black scales reflected magic, none of the creatures they faced would have given him much XP anyway, since they weren’t a significant threat to him.  The party members were strong enough on their own, now that they had their Advanced Classes, that they honestly didn’t need his help. 

They slashed and cut their way through assaults by 4’ tall, dinosaur-like lizards with iron-gray skin and wickedly sharp claws that his Beast Lore told him were called kondinyas.  They slaughtered a swarm of giant, brown arachnids he recognized as venomous anisi.  They even sprang an ambush from a pack of three 10’ long, grey and black striped tigerlike beasts called rafuin, although Aranos did use his Tracking Skill to tell his companions exactly where the big cats were; the felines had waited for Silma to pass before moving into position over the road, and Martina’s Tracking Skill wasn’t quite high enough to detect them, yet.

“How did you even know they were there?” the half-undead Duskstalker asked him a bit suspiciously as she unstrung her bow after that encounter.  “I know they never came out on the road, and their Stealth Skill was ridiculously high, so you couldn’t have spotted them; they even hid from Meridian’s Lifesense.”

“The Liberator has an absurdly high Tracking Skill, daywalker,” Rhys sighed.  “It has caused me no small amount of envy, I must admit, but he is capable of Tracking a bird’s flight through the air several days after its passage.”

Martina looked unconvinced, but Phil nodded his head.  “It’s true.  When we were coming to rescue you and Hector, he took one look at the escape tunnel and knew that you and Lily’s aswang had entered first, you’d gone back and left the aswang behind, and that you’d gone in after the undead came out to lay siege to our tower.  Didn’t even have to think about it.”

The former Ranger looked at him with an odd mixture of distrust and respect.  “So, why are Silma and I scouting ahead, then?  Why don’t you fly ahead and figure out all the ambushes in advance?”

“Because both of you are stealthier and faster than I am,” Aranos smiled.  “Plus, I don’t really need to be out in front to Track.  For example, I can tell you that a group of 32 urukkai passed this way four days ago; that they were a mixed group of fourteen uruks, sixteen dabruks, a kerruk, and an ogrin; and that they’re currently miles ahead of us, at least farther than we’ll travel today.”

“Do not show off, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel remonstrated.  “His Skill is Master-ranked, Duskstalker.  He can do things with it that seem impossible to you or me.  For instance, while I saw the passage of the urukkai, I do not know how he is aware of their precise location now.  And yet, I have never seen him wrong in his judgments of such things, so I have learned to accept them.”

Martina’s eyes narrowed once more.  “Master ranked?” she asked, her voice a bit dangerous.  “How did…never mind.  I don’t want to know; it would probably just piss me off.  To hell with how you got that rank; why aren’t you training me with it?  I’m only Student-ranked!  Do you know what kind of benefits I’d get for training under a Master Tracker?”

Aranos blinked in surprise.  Martina’s entire body was tensed; her jaw was set, and her eyes flashed dangerously.  He reminded himself that just a week ago, she’d thought of him as her enemy, and they were still learning to trust one another.  He could see how it might look to her like he was deliberately holding out on her.

“You know, you’re right, Martina.  I totally should have been training you, shouldn’t I?”  He frowned.  “I’m happy to do it; it just never occurred to me.  I’ve never been much of a teacher.”  He looked at Geltheriel.  “Why didn’t you ask me to train you?”

“I am Adept in the Tracking Skill already.  While further training would provide some benefit, it would not be a productive use of our time.”

Aranos nodded; he’d found the same thing to be true of his Skill books.  He could train a Skill to Adept level quickly enough, but after that he got more benefit from using it than from further training.  He looked back at Martina.  “Let me think about how I can do this, and we’ll start tomorrow,” he promised her.  “You and I will go ahead of the others and spend the day Tracking; we’ll see if we can’t get you to the Adept ranks before the next logout.  Deal?”

The woman’s body relaxed as she let go of the tension that had been flooding her.  “Yeah, okay,” she replied.  “Thanks.  I – I’m sorry.  That probably sounded like I was accusing you.  I just thought that maybe you were keeping that Skill to yourself, you know, so that it would be your thing – which I guess kind of is accusing you of putting yourself before the party, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged.  “We’re still getting to know each other.  Just so everyone knows, I’ve got an Expert ranking or higher in a bunch of forest-related stuff like Survival and Natural Lore, plus Herbalism and Archery.  Just in case anyone wants any training.”  He glanced at Longfellow.

“I’m good, mate,” the man waved off.  “Like the lady said, I’m Adept ranked already.  I would like to know how a Sorcerer gets that kind of Skill in Archery, though, if you’re ever of a mind to share.”

“Happy to, when we’re not all standing around in the middle of hostile territory, surrounded by dead cats,” Aranos laughed. 

“I might take ya’ll up on Herbalism,” Meridian spoke up.  “I mean, you’ve already taught me that weird Instinctive Meditation Skill and boosted my Mana Control and Manipulation pretty high, but that seems like something that would go well with the whole healer bit.”

“And if you don’t mind, I’d like Archery and some of that Survival training,” Martina added.  “I mean, once we’re back in human lands where there’s a forest around to teach it, that is.”

“Not a problem,” he nodded.  “Although I’ve got stuff to do in the city, too, so we might have to prioritize at some point.  Let’s start with Tracking tomorrow and see how that goes, okay?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.  I don’t want to monopolize your time or anything.”  Martina’s ashen bronze face flushed slightly.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he grinned back at her.  “But you’re in my party, and I’ll try to make time to work with you around the other stuff I have to do.”

“Okay.  And, uh, thanks,” she added as Hector nudged her with his elbow.  “I really appreciate it.”

“You bet.  Now, let’s Harvest these rafuins; I’ll bet the hides are useful for making stealthy stuff and will bring a decent price in Stoneleague.”

Chapter 3

They pushed on through the day, leaving the barren, Blighted forest of Antas behind.  The road beside the High Road began to rise on either side, as low hills covered with sparse scrub grass, stark tree trunks with blackened leaves, and gray, unhealthy soil rose out of the earth.  The hills grew steadily higher as they moved to the southeast, but the High Road itself descended down into a lower area that resembled a long, barren valley.  The hills swelled above them, bare rock showing here and there in places as the stone uplifted out of the soil.  As the hours passed, the hills grew taller, covered with striated bands of gray stone, the tops taking on a more jagged appearance until the party passed through the shadows of twin mountain ranges, one to their northeast and the other to the southwest, hemming in the High Road on both sides.

Aranos quickly realized that the monsters assaulting them were descending from these mountains, creeping along the ridges and following barely visible paths that led up to the boundaries of the High Road.  He added another set of rafuin hides to his collection, along with the scales and talons from the packs of kondinyas they defeated, more anisi fangs and spinnerets, and even the hides of a troop of shaggy, apelike saskitches.  Skinning those last made Aranos a bit uncomfortable; the creatures were far too similar to actual gorillas, and cutting the skin off them just felt – wrong.  He knew that the hides were useful for creating cold-weather gear, though, so he took them anyway.  He’d have to sell them; he intended to save some of the others to work on his Leatherworking Skill, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to craft with the saskitch hides.

They reached the East Antas Waystation in early afternoon and found it infested only with more of the annoying kondinyas.  The saurian monsters were prodigious jumpers and could leap from the upper windows onto the party without difficulty, plus they spat a debilitating poison that burned the skin and could cause a Blinded debuff if it got in someone’s eyes.  They didn’t have the best aim, but when thirty of the creatures were leaping at the party and spraying gobs of poison all at once, they didn’t really need great aim to be effective. 

Aranos stepped in for that battle.  The kondinyas were fast but fragile and light, and a quick casting of his Gravity Well Spell sucked half of them into the air, slamming them against the side of the tower thirty feet above the road.  The intense gravity crushed the creatures into one another, fracturing their delicate bones, and in their confusion and pain they attacked their own kind ferociously.  When the Spell ended a minute later, only a rain of crushed, bleeding corpses splattered to the ground.

The rest of the party had no problems with the remaining fifteen or so saurian.  Hector and Phil tanked the creatures, Hector relying on his taunts to keep their focus while Phil used his Spells for the same effect.  Longfellow and Martina hung back and fired crossbow bolts and arrows respectively into the leaping, snapping beasts, while McBane and Geltheriel darted in and out, slashing at their flanks.  Silma hung back to protect Rhys and Meridian; the kondinyas kept leaping past the tanks and attacking the less armored casters, but the massive fenrin made short work of those that cleared the front line. 

After crushing that first wave of attackers, the party made their way into the tower, where they found another forty or so of the creatures scattered about.  In the smaller, enclosed spaces, the kondinyas were less dangerous, since they could no longer leap over the frontline fighters, and Hector and Phil’s shields did an admirable job of blocking their poisonous spittle.  At the same time, in the tight hallways, both Longfellow and Martina were hampered since they couldn’t freely fire at the tiny creatures past the tanks.  Geltheriel and Silma, who could both teleport behind the creatures, ended up doing most of the damage, at least until they stepped onto the top floor’s central area. 

A dozen of the creatures had set an ambush for them, but alerted by the stealthy Silma, the party was ready for the assault.  Phil and Hector rushed into the room, using their taunts to draw the monsters out of hiding, while the others fanned out to the sides and unleashed death upon the saurian.  The creatures fell speedily, hampered by the low ceilings and the rubble cluttering the stone floors, and in only a couple of minutes, the last kondinya fell to McBane’s dual short swords.

When the final creature dropped, Aranos closed his eyes and reached out to the tower, casting his Needed Reclamation Spell.  The wave of golden fire surged out of him, churning through the Waystation and repairing the damage done by centuries of neglect and Blight.  Cracks in the masonry refilled, the dry fountain in the lowest level started pouring sweet, clear water, and the gaping windows were filled with thick panes of clear glass.  Energy rushed out of him, draining him down to only 10% of his SP and LP, but when the Spell completed, he got a surprising notification:

You have Redeemed the location: High Road Waystation, East Antas

This location is now a designated safe zone and will remain so until it is no longer Redeemed.  You may set this location as your spawn point.

As this location is a defensive fortification attached to your city, it will receive the benefits of your city’s defensive bonuses.

Do you wish to make this location your spawn point (Yes/No)?

Aranos quickly selected ‘Yes’, as did the other Travelers, since none of them wanted to respawn back in Antas and try to make the trip here solo.  That, though, wasn’t a surprise, since simply clearing a Waystation was enough to be able to set it as a spawn point.  What was interesting was that the Waystation was now, as far as he could tell, considered to be a part of his city, and he hadn’t had to do anything to claim it, unlike the previous one.  That meant that anything wanting to come retake this tower would have to not only deal with the weakening effect that Redeemed ground had on creatures of Darkness, it would also have to get through his city’s wards.

Even more importantly, though, if this was now part of his city – could he expand the area around the tower, as well?  If he could spread Antas’ influence to block the High Road, then he wouldn’t even need to worry about monsters slipping past them from the surrounding mountain ranges and assaulting the city in his absence.  He wasn’t really worried about that – unless an invading force could take the Tree-heart, they wouldn’t gain control of the city – but he didn’t want to have to rush back to the city and clear out invaders if he didn’t have to.

That would have to wait for later, though.  The party set up their camp, using the central area on the top floor.  Not everyone had been happy with that, to his surprise. 

“You know, there are all these rooms around here, with wooden doors that you just repaired and nice, thick stone walls,” Hector pointed to one of the rooms leading off the central area.  “And there’s even more of them on the level below.  We could – I mean, some of us could really use a bit of privacy, just for the night, you know.”

“Yes, Hector, we all know what you mean,” Martina rolled her eyes.  “You get absolutely zero points for subtlety, there.  Meridian’s loud; we all know.” 

The auburn-haired woman blushed but grinned widely.  “I do get a little enthusiastic sometimes,” she admitted.  “I think it’s a holdover from my cheer days in school.” She glanced at Geltheriel.  “You know men, right honey?  They always need encouragement if you want them to do anything right, and the louder, the better.”

“Indeed?” the blonde elf replied calmly, one eyebrow raised.  “I have generally relied upon more subtle techniques to encourage the behaviors I desire, but perhaps I will take your advice.”  She turned to look at Aranos.  “Oathbinder!” she said loudly, cupping her hands to her mouth as she spoke.  “It would make me exceedingly happy if you explained to the hairy one why being in a sound resistant room when we could be attacked at any time is a poor idea!  I have faith that you can convince him!”

“Bloody hell, now that’s a burn,” Longfellow laughed at Hector’s embarrassed face.  “You might want to ask your lady friend to heal that up tonight, Hector.  That one’s going to scar.”

“You heard the lady,” Aranos chuckled.  “Besides, Hector, I’m going to put a ward around the building tonight, and this area will be clear, but the rooms and floor below won’t.”

“Oh, yeah, I hadn’t even thought of that,” McBane laughed.  “You don’t want to find out we’re being attacked when a giant, stone spike shoots out of the floor and stabs you in whatever happens to be exposed right about then, do you?”

“Ugh,” Hector grunted.  “Fine, fine.  We’ll bunk in here, but I don’t want any complaining in the morning about the noise.”

“It’s not the noise that bothers us, my friend,” Phil grinned.  “It’s Meridian’s constant corrections.  If she has to tell you you’re doing it wrong one more time, I might be tempted to come in and show you myself, just so we don’t have to listen to it anymore!”

Meridian’s blush went even pinker, but she gave Phil an arch look.  “Don’t tease me like that, Phil,” she murmured in a deliberately sultry voice.  “Two big, strong Warriors in one, little tent?  I do believe that’s the start of about fourteen different fantasies of mine!”

“One wonders how many are required for the fifteenth, then,” Rhys said wryly.  “Will we need to pick up a third Warrior for you to feel fulfilled?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Meridian laughed before affecting a thoughtful look.  “Although, to be honest, one more couldn’t hurt…”

The others spent the rest of the afternoon using Aranos’ training crystals to boost their Physical Stats.  They were welcome to them; since his transformation into a High Arcane, Aranos had gotten almost no use out of them.  If he trained for an hour with all three crystals at the level 4 setting each day, he could boost his Physical Stats by 2 points per week, and he could only do that to get his Stats up to 100.  He couldn’t boost his Mental Stats at all anymore; those would only go up by leveling or developing new Skills.  Even so, he was planning to use the crystals later tonight; today was one of the days where his Physical Stats jumped by a point after three days of zero gains. 

Aranos went into his tent and closed his eyes, willing himself to descend into his mindscape.  He felt his consciousness sinking deep into himself, down into the center of his being.  He opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of a wildflower filled clearing, surrounded by towering evergreens that waved gently in a nonexistent breeze.  The scent of pine filled the air, and a pool of shimmering, prismatic colors dominated the center of the clearing.  The natural beauty of the setting, though, was strangely marred by a heavy bookshelf of dark wood, a weapon stand holding a wooden bokken and a short bo staff, a human-shaped striking dummy, and a large, overstuffed leather chair. 

Aranos had created this mindscape, and at one time, being here had given him a deep sense of inner peace.  Now, though, he’d seen through the façade of the image into the deeper reality beneath it and knew that the mindscape was nothing more than an elaborate user interface, a way for the game to assist him in Spell creation, Skill training, and maintaining his mana flows.  The serene scene now had a flat, hollow feeling to it, as if it were just a projection rather than an actual place, and he could set it aside and drop deeper into the river of mana beneath it at any time.

For the moment, though, this interface was all he really needed.  Aranos hadn’t just been spending his meditation time channeling power into his Tree-heart; that took very little effort, in all honesty. It did take all of his SP regen, but he still had a pretty large natural pool of mana to use for other things.  At the moment, one of those other things was trickling power into the hanging Spells he had in creation, so he sat down in the chair he’d created specifically for this purpose, leaned back, closed his eyes, and called up the image of his messaging Spell.

He’d had this Spell in creation since almost the beginning of his time in Ka, and he’d modified it heavily since then.  His original concept was to create a physical orb based around a memory stone, one that would hold a pattern of mind mana, fly to a specific person using air energy, and deliver that message telepathically.  While there wasn’t anything wrong with that idea, he’d developed a lot more mana types since then and realized that having the message orb be a physical object that traveled overland not only wasn’t efficient, it wasn’t practical.  Anyone could intercept the orb en route and, if they knew what they were doing, steal the message, destroy the orb, or even alter it so that the message wasn’t what was intended. 

That was why he’d gone back and changed much of the Spell.  He’d been playing around with his Enhanced aspects the last few days, combining them with different Primary mana types to see which, if any, would mesh, and he’d hit upon a combination of mind, light, and life mana that created exactly what he’d been looking for:

Evolved Aspect Discovered!
Aspect: Illusionary
Illusionary mana is an Evolved mana type consisting of mind, light, and life mana.  It can be used to create images that will fool even magical senses.

Associated Stat: Int

Requirements: Int 75+, Mind, Light, and Life mana aspects unlocked, Mana Manipulation Expert+.

Using Illusionary Mana: Illusionary mana can be used to create any sensory input, even those that are magical in origin.  An illusory image can look, sound, feel, and smell perfectly real, within limits, and can even appear normal to unusual senses such as Mana Sense, Lifesense, or Night Vision.  However, a caster can only accurately reproduce sensory inputs that they are capable of perceiving.  A caster without visual organs, for example, cannot create believable visible images, while a caster without Tremorsense can’t reproduce the specific type of vibrations accurately enough to fool this sense. 

Damage: You can only use Illusionary SP equal to double your Int Stat per hour without harm.  Exceeding this limit drains your Int: you lose 1 point of Int for every 1% of your max SP of additional illusionary mana you use.  This damage heals at a rate of 10% per hour of rest or meditation.

Illusionary Mana and Multiple Targets: Illusionary mana can be crafted in two ways.  First, it can be designed to only affect a single target; in this case, the target is the only one to perceive the Spell in any way.  It can also be used to create a standing illusion that anyone can see; in this case, anyone viewing it is allowed to make an Opposed Check, as below, the moment they first perceive the Spell.

Opposable Aspect: Any Spell crafted with illusionary mana can be opposed by any creature that perceives it.  A creature can recognize the illusory nature of such a Spell or Spell effect with a Perception check, if the creature is using physical senses, or a Wisdom check if utilizing magical ones.  This check is typically the creature’s [Relevant Stat + relevant Skill level (if any) + creature level] versus the caster’s [Int + Mana Manipulation level + Spell level +10].  If the creature succeeds on this check, they can see through the illusory parts of the Spell and realize that it is not real; however, the Spell still functions against other creatures normally.  Of course, the successful creature can communicate their discovery to others, and this gives them another attempt to oppose the Spell.  A caster with the illusionary aspect unlocked receives a +20 bonus to this check.

Aranos had now created an invisible globe of illusionary mana that would record any image, sound, or whatever the caster intended and would display that to the recipient, using mind magic to determine if the recipient is the correct one or not.  The Spell would then open a portal to that spot using dimensional magic, zip through, and deliver the message to the subject, targeting them so that they would be the only ones to get the message.  He was pretty far along on it, but it wasn’t really his highest priority at the moment. 

After all, he could communicate with the Travelers in his party through player chat, now that they were in the same region together, he and Silma could speak anywhere at any time, and the rings he’d fashioned for Geltheriel and him linked them telepathically over pretty much any distance.  Only Rhys was currently excluded from his communications network, and that was deliberate; the Druid had been under Golloron’s influence for days, if not weeks, and while Aranos thought he’d severed that connection, he wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that he could keep the ancient and powerful elf from reestablishing it, at least not permanently.  He was training Rhys in Fortitude daily along with the rest of the party, but it would be some time before Aranos felt confident establishing a mental link to the Druid.

The only reason he was working on the Spell now, in fact, was because he was struggling with the part of the Spell that created the portal; to be honest, that was something he was having difficulty with in most of his spatial Spells – and it was a big reason why he wanted to visit Stoneleague.  He could create a portal, no problem, but targeting it was a different matter.  Unless his target had an anchor – a sort of magical homing beacon the Spell could use to locate them – the portal opened could be off by a few feet or several miles.  It was relatively random, so sometimes a portal would open right in front of the target, while the very next casting, it would open a kingdom away. 

The issue was that dimensional magic was inherently unstable, and the less clearly Aranos knew the intended location of the portal – and the farther away it was – the less likely it was that the Spell would function correctly.  He knew that there had to be a way to target portals, though, and he was hoping to learn more about that in Stoneleague.

He spent some time trickling a couple thousand SP into his mental image of the Spell, concentrating on opening the portal, trying to link it to a sense of the actual individual being targeted.  The portal wouldn’t connect that way, though; it was linked only to the spatial location of the target, and since Aranos could never be sure where that was, the portal would always open in a random location.  He kept trying for ten long minutes before finally giving up in frustration; there was something he was missing, and until he worked out or learned what it was, he’d never be able to craft stable, targeted portals.

He moved through his other hanging Spells, adding no more than a few thousand SP to each of them, just enough to keep them fresh in his mind and to nudge their design forward slightly.  There was the mass communication Spell that would allow him to mentally communicate with any creature in range for as long as the Spell lasted; the Telekinetic Aura that would allow him to mentally control every object and creature around him; the Warp Field that bombarded an area with bursts of high or low gravity, explosions of force energy, and opened random portals to send enemies all around the battlefield.  The portals for that last one, at least, were more stable and controlled, since they were designed to send their targets from a location in his sight to another location in his sight, and he didn’t care where exactly that location would be.  They still occasionally opened to a random location, though, once depositing an enemy a thousand feet or so up in the air – directly above the mental image of Aranos.

He lingered on the last Spell; this was the one he really wanted to work on and the reason he wasn’t channeling mana into the Tree-heart right now.  Thanks to his new mastery of illusionary mana, he was working on a spell that would disguise his form.  He knew that Lily had something similar, although to be honest, hers was better: she could actually physically transform into a specific individual, making her a carbon copy of them.  He wasn’t sure, but he guessed that her Spell didn’t even radiate magic to be sensed, since once the transition was complete, no magic was needed to maintain that form.  It simply was Lily’s body, at least until she shifted back to her normal one.  There were ways to detect her through that – her scent didn’t change completely, for example, so he could still Track her that way – but those ways were esoteric and somewhat unreliable.

To replicate that effect, Aranos had to specifically create the inputs for the senses he wanted to fool.  Crafting visual and auditory illusions was simple, and he’d already completed that part of his Spell.  Creating a specific scent that wasn’t his was harder but doable, so long as he knew what the creature he was duplicating smelled like, and he’d mostly completed that.  Touch was similarly difficult, but it was the other senses – Tracking, Mana Sight, Night Vision, Lifesense, and telepathy – that were giving him trouble.  Tracking was especially hard, since he could only disguise his trail to a certain extent, and even then it wouldn’t last long after he passed. 

He focused on the image in his mind, calling up the most perfectly formed generic human shape he could imagine.  The image was of a man of average height, with medium brown hair that was cut just below his ears.  His face was plain and unremarkable, and his brown eyes held no particular depths to them.  His voice was flat and monotonous, and he smelled like a combination of all the male humans in his party mixed with leather, iron, and a faint odor of soap.  All of these were perfectly clear in his mind, but now he had to project far more difficult images, ones that would fool more magical or exotic senses.

Mana Sight was the most difficult of these, since he had to make sure that he was projecting a generic mix of mana types – but no illusionary mana whatsoever, and nothing in any great potency.  He’d spent some time analyzing McBane with his Mana Sight, since the Giantbane was the only member of the party without access to his SP and so only radiated the base energies that a generic human would.  Martina also had no access to her SP, but she had a faint aura of necrotic energy thanks to her daywalker race change, and while Hector had no access to his SP, Aranos had also forcibly sealed the mana channels in the man, giving him significant resistance to outside magic but also meaning that he barely radiated mana at all.  That meant that Aranos was basically copying McBane’s mana signature, but hopefully that would be enough to fool anyone scanning him with magical senses.

He pictured the trail he would leave as he passed, imagining the heavier footsteps of the more solid human imprinted in the soil and the slightly shorter stride the smaller man would leave behind.  He adjusted the outline of the foot to be wider, with shorter toes, and he added the imprint of hobnails in the sole of his imagined boots, since that seemed to be what held the humans’ boots together instead of the adhesive resins elves preferred. 

He held the image as clearly as he could – he still needed to add Night Vision and Lifesense to it, but he would work on those later – and began to add more SP to it, trickling it in as quickly as it regenerated.  He could have simply poured power into it, but he was already pretty far along with the Spell and didn’t see the need to dump energy into it just yet.  He had a feeling that just by channeling his regen into it, he could finish it before they reached the city, and that was all that mattered.

The others joined him as the sun sank below the horizon, and one by one, they each retired to their tents, leaving the Sorcerer to stand watch.  Aranos only needed 4 hours of meditation a day in place of sleep, so it made sense that he stand watch overnight rather than disrupting everyone else’s sleep.  To his surprise, though, Martina joined him for the first part of his shift, looking quietly pensive.

“Mind if I sit with you?” she asked quietly, her entire body screaming discomfort and uncertainty.

“Not at all,” he smiled.  “I’m going to train with the crystals later; I was just going to see if I can expand the zone around the tower to encompass the entire road. You’re welcome to hang out with me if you’d like.”

“Well…I was kind of hoping to chat,” she said awkwardly.  “I mean, if you’re too busy, though…”

“Give me a few minutes just to make sure I can do this,” he shrugged.  “I’ve been feeding the Tree-heart my extra SP for days, now, so I think I can do it and talk at the same time, but I don’t know if I can start the process without concentration.”

“Oh.  Yeah, okay, sure.”

He closed his eyes and located the pulsing beat of the Tree-heart’s energy deep within his being.  He reached out through it, touching the wards he’d woven into the city’s defensive barrier, checking to make sure they were intact and in good condition.  He’d fashioned a thin mesh of life mana that surrounded the city; anything living or undead that crossed it would tear it irreparably and announce its presence.  If Zoridos had put something like that around the Tree-heart, he might have beaten Aranos, but Zoridos simply didn’t have the skill to craft such a weaving.  The qualintar had tons of power – far more than Aranos did, even bonded to the Heart, since Zoridos was feeding off the trapped souls of tens of thousands of Antas’ former inhabitants – but almost no skill to speak of. 

Fortunately, the mesh was untouched; nothing had slipped his wards and entered the city; at least, nothing alive or once-living had.  He supposed a horde of constructs could have smashed through the barrier and entered and he probably wouldn’t know, but as of yet, he hadn’t worked out the mana needed to animate things.  He was certain it was a combination of Enhanced and Primary mana types, but discovering it wasn’t as simple as tossing them together and seeing what happened.  Each aspect had to be added in the right proportions and woven together in a fashion that would remain stable but not separate; without seeing some sort of example, he was basically trying random patterns to see what might stick, and most of his attempts – almost all, in fact – ended in failure.

He refocused his thoughts and touched the Tree-heart, calling up his City Screen as he did.  The map of his city appeared in his mind, complete with the accidentally added genitalia stretching to the west – he’d have to either fix that at some point or steer into the skid and add testicles just to be as juvenile as possible – then concentrated on expanding his territory, focusing on the area around the tower.  To his relief, he received a confirmation notification asking how many energy points he wanted to put into expansion.  He selected a gradual rate of 3 per second, started funneling SP into the Heart to replace what was being lost, and opened his eyes with relief.

“Thanks for being patient,” he smiled at the still-uncomfortable looking Martina.  “It’s working; after a few hours, the Waystation should be in the middle of a protected area a bit less than a half-mile in diameter.”

“That’s good,” she said without conviction.  “I mean, yeah, it’s a good thing.  It’s nice to sleep somewhere that’s actually safe.”

“How did you keep from being attacked on the way here?” he asked curiously; he’d never really spoken to the woman about her time traveling with Lily, and it occurred to him that might be an oversight.  Martina knew more about Lily’s capabilities than Aranos did in some ways, but she also knew Lily’s limitations.  Really, you haven’t been spending enough time with this woman at all, he remonstrated himself silently.  You know almost nothing about her, you never thought about training her, and you never talked to her about Lily.  Gotta get your head in the game, dude!

“Liam – Lily, I mean, hid us magically.  He – she…”  The woman sighed with frustration.  “I don’t even know what to call her, Aranos.  I keep thinking of her as ‘Liam’, and that’s what comes out naturally, but really she was Lily the whole time.”

Aranos chuckled.  “I suggest saying whatever works best for you.  I’m not going to correct you, and I’ll get what you’re saying.  As long as I understand what you’re telling me, how you’re saying it isn’t very important, is it?”

“Yeah.  Okay, that makes sense – and it makes things easier.  So, Liam hid us with his magic every night.  Hector and I still took turns standing watch, even though Liam insisted we didn’t have to, but everything we saw just kind of ignored us and kept going.”

Aranos nodded.  “Useful Spell,” he admitted.  “That gives me one more thing to work on, I guess.  As if I didn’t have a thousand things in my head already.”  He looked at her curiously.  “Why didn’t you sleep in the Waystations?”

“They were inhabited, and Liam insisted that they weren’t worth fighting over.  Of course, we didn’t know they would work as spawn points until we’d passed most of them up.  We only took this one, and that was because it turned out we got to it a few hours after Phil’s group had stayed inside, so it hadn’t had time to be fully reinhabited with creatures.   We didn’t stay there; we just took it and set it as a spawn point, then moved out to catch Phil’s group.”

Aranos nodded.  “So, what did you want to chat about?” he asked.  Seeing her hesitant look, he laughed.  “Martina, I can tell that something’s bothering you.  The best thing to do is just spit it out.  I’ll do my best to not be offended, okay?”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m not very good at diplomacy,” she admitted.  “Honestly, I just never saw the point in it.  I’ve always felt like people who get upset over hearing the truth kind of do it to themselves, you know?  But I’ve also never really worked in a group like this for very long, and – well, I’m kind of enjoying it.  I don’t want to ruffle feathers.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think it’s necessary, at least not with us.  I mean, no one ever got upset over Saphielle, and she was the most brutally honest person I’ve ever met.”  He blinked and swallowed at the brief pang but pushed on.  “So long as you’re not being deliberately insulting, I’m not going to care, and I don’t think anyone else will, either.”

“Alright.  Well, the thing is…,” she hesitated, then seemed to plunge forward.   “I don’t think going to Stoneleague is a good idea, at least not for all of us.”

“Oh?  Why not?” he asked neutrally. 

“A few reasons.  First of all, I don’t think the elves, or you, or – or I are going to be welcome.  Stoneleague is a human city, and I don’t remember any other races being there.”

“Were people talking badly about the other races?” Aranos frowned.  “I mean, I know the elves consider humans to be a ‘lesser race’, but usually, humans are portrayed as more tolerant than other races.”

Martina scoffed.  “Humans aren’t tolerant,” she said with some heat.  “They’re narrow-minded, insular, and like to keep to their own kind…”  She seemed to regain her composure that had been slipping.  “But yeah, the NPCs in the city made a lot of jokes about nonhumans.  You know, ‘a dwarf, an elf, and a necromancer walk into a bar…’.  They think elves are snobbish and vain, I guess.”

“They kind of are,” Aranos laughed.  “I mean, ‘lesser races’ and all, right?  I was an aleen – an elf/fay hybrid – and I had to deal with some of that from them.  They tend to think humans are uncultured and barbaric, so – I guess the humans are right.  Do you think they’d keep the elves out, though?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.  “They might not let you into the city, though, what with the green skin and fiery red hair.  And…they almost certainly wouldn’t be happy with someone who was half-undead.”

Ah, there’s the issue.  You’re worried that you won’t be able to get back in.   “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m working on an illusion Spell for myself to make me look human,” he assured her.  “I think I can adapt it to be able to cast it on you and the elves, as well.  If we’re all just plain, vanilla humans, they shouldn’t have any problems.”

A look of relief crossed her face and quickly vanished.  “Okay, that does make me feel better.  The thing is, though, if you’re right about King Hugin, you might have the entire city after you if you’re discovered – and we all have the whole ‘Liberator of Antas’ Title.  Even if they don’t know right away who you are, it won’t be hard to figure out once they realize who ‘Irric Brightblade, High Paladin’ and Meridian – I don’t know her character’s last name, but ‘Meridian the Liberator of Antas’ are, will it?”

She ran her hands through her hair.  “What I mean is, why are we doing this?  I get why Phil and his group want to go back – they have their Quest to turn in – but what about the rest of us?  There’s no good reason for us to go back to Stoneleague, and a few good reasons not to.”

Aranos sat calmly, his face carefully neutral as the woman spoke.  “Listen, Martina, if you don’t want to go into the city, you don’t have to,” he finally said.  “You and Hector are probably able to adventure around here safely by yourselves if you want.  I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you to do something you don’t want to do.

“However, I do have a good reason to go to Stoneleague: Geltheriel.  See, I met her because Lily had kidnapped her and imprisoned her in the ruins of Haerobel, another fallen elven city.  As Travelers, you and I don’t get Corruption Points just for being in Blighted Lands, but Geltheriel and Rhys do.  She’d been imprisoned long enough that her Corruption exceeds half of her Endurance, so she can only get rid of it with a Cleansing Quest – which we’re on right now.

“The first objective was to get into the Vault of Antas and discover some lost works by an ancient, elven Artificer from before the Feast.  We did that, and now the second step is to go into human lands and learn more about portals.  So, I kind of have to go – but you don’t, and if you want to take a break from the party while we’re in the city, there’ll be no hard feelings.  You and Hector can rejoin us when we leave Stoneleague.”

Martina bit her lip, looking concerned.  “I – I don’t know if Hector would go with me,” she admitted.  “I mean, he and Meridian…”

“He would,” Aranos shook his head.  “Hector’s all about loyalty, you know that.  Heck, he followed you to Antas just to keep you safe.  He’s not going to turn his back on you now.”  He looked directly at the distraught woman.  “The thing is, none of us will turn our backs on you, Martina.  I’d like you to stay in the party; you’re a good companion, you’ve got valuable Skills, and I’d like to think that we’re becoming friends.  At the same time, I get it if you don’t want to risk pissing off the city; it’s not your Quest, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  Hector is all about loyalty, isn’t he?”  She sighed and looked away.  “Can I think about it?  I mean, I’m not going to split while we’re on the High Roads, of course, but can I talk to Hector and let you know before we get to Stoneleague?”

“We’ll probably be there around nightfall tomorrow,” he pointed out.  “You might want to go talk to him soon.”

Martina grimaced.  “I’m pretty sure by now he and Meridian are – otherwise occupied.  If I popped my head in there now, he’d probably get the wrong idea.”

“Or Meridian would,” Aranos laughed.  “She seems pretty – open to new things.”

“Oh, she’s not.  She just talks that way because stuff like that embarrasses her and laughing about it is a good way to deflect.”  She glanced at Aranos.  “We’ve talked.  She’s actually really sweet.  I’m kind of glad she and Hector are getting along.  He deserves someone nice, and she deserves someone honest.”

Aranos felt a silent knot of tension release inside him.  “That’s something of a relief,” he admitted.  “I was worried that the whole Hector/Meridian thing would cause issues.  I mean, the two of you have adventured together for so long…”

Martina cut him off with a snort of laughter.  “It’s not even close to like that between us.  Hector is like my big brother.”  She looked at him.  “It’s kind of like you and Geltheriel, I think.  You look at her the way you would an older sister, don’t you?”

“More or less.”

“Same for Hector and me.  He’s never looked at me that way, and I’ve never thought about him like that.” She shrugged.  “It keeps things simple, if nothing else.  It’s good to have someone you can just count on and not worry about drama messing it up.”  She rose to her feet and brushed off her black leather pants.

“I’ll say this, Aranos,” she added quietly.  “I think you mean it when you say that you’d look out for me.  I know we had a rough start, but I think I can count on you, too.  I just don’t know if I’m ready to bank everything on ‘think’.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged.  “You’ve got until tomorrow afternoon to decide; after that, we’ll be getting close enough to the city’s walls that you might be spotted leaving the group.”

“I’ll let you know,” she smiled.  “Good night.”

Aranos watched the woman walk back into the room where the others were sleeping, inwardly shaking his head.  Martina had some serious trust issues, for sure, and while he hoped she’d stay, he understood her concerns.  He had his own, to be honest: as she’d said, it was possible his presence in Stoneleague would create some pretty significant problems or bring down the wrath of the city’s ruler, who he assumed was the King Hugin she’d mentioned. 

He also assumed that meant that there might be some reward for the person who told said lord that he was in the city and where he was staying. 

He didn’t want to think badly about anyone in his party, but of all the people who he thought might betray him, Martina and Rhys were at the top of the list.  The woman had come to Antas specifically to steal Aranos’ Quest, even knowing that meant she might have to fight against him and her former party member Phil.  While he wanted to think that part of her was in the past, he knew that, realistically, people didn’t often change like that.  Right now, it was to Martina’s benefit to go along and be a good party member.  If that stopped being the case…

Aranos sighed and sent quick telepathic messages to Geltheriel and Silma, as well as a private player message to Phil.  Martina needed watching.  It wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but Aranos couldn’t afford to be nice.

He had a Cleansing Quest to complete, and if Martina tried to betray them, well then…

He’d deal with her.

Chapter 4

The gates of Stoneleague stood open before the cobbled road that wound down from the High Road and descended to the city.  The walls were high, proud, and strong, made of granite that had probably been hewn from the nearby mountains and standing 40’ tall in the center of a mile-long clearing.  Even from this distance, Aranos could see the figures walking the tops of the wall and the spiderlike ballistae and catapults manning the battlements.  The party had doubtless been spotted the moment they left the forested area north of the city, but no alarms had been raised so far, and no flurry of activity seemed to be happening at the wall.

Aranos absently reached up and touched his short, red hair, which now covered only his rounded, human ears.  He’d completed his Illusory Cloak Spell earlier that day; since he wasn’t participating in the combats, he had no trouble channeling his SP regen into the Spell while using his Massless Flight to float along a few inches above the ground:

Spell Created: Enhanced Illusory Cloak^
Rank: Novice 1
Change the outward appearance of a single creature.

Effect: You change the outward appearance of any friendly creature to resemble a different creature of the same type.  The Cloak can mimic a specific individual, if that individual is known to the caster, or the caster can tailor the image in any way they choose, so long as the new form is roughly the same size and shape as the target’s true body.  The target looks, sounds, and feels like their illusory counterpart to all who view, hear, or touch them.

Opposable Spell: Anyone examining the cloaked individual closely or with suspicion can make an Opposed Check to see through it: their [Per + Sense Intent Skill + Class level] versus the caster’s [Int + Mana Mastery Skill + Spell Level +10].  If the viewer is using a specific Skill such as Night Vision, that Skill level is used instead of Sense Intent; if the viewer is using a Spell or magical sense, Per is replaced with Wis.  Success means that single individual sees through the disguise, but all others see the cloak normally.

Enhanced: This Spell also functions against attempts to perceive the target with Scent, telepathy or mindreading, Night Vision, Mana Sight or detection, Lifesense, and Tracking Skills, Spells, or Abilities.  The Tracking protection lasts for one hour, after which the target’s normal tracks become apparent once more.

Cost: 85 Illusionary SP

+150 XP

What you see may not be true…

Aranos had considered keeping his original form.  After all, he had a Favored reputation in human lands, and with his Grand Liberator Title active, he got an extra 75% bonus to all Charisma-based interactions.  Those factors, combined with his high Charisma Stat, should allow him to move freely in the city…however, that would mean proclaiming his presence to any and all, and Martina had been right.  He could be painting a giant target on the entire party.

Now, he looked a lot like what he did IRL.  His hair was flame-red and fell to his ears; his face was broader and squarer than it had been but still narrow for a human’s, he was a couple inches shorter than he stood as an arcane, and he was dressed in green and brown leather armor, carrying a simple, wooden staff banded with metal. 

Geltheriel and Rhys had also been made to look human.  The Shadedancer’s hair was still honey-blonde, but she had a rounder face, ears without points, wider shoulders and hips, and looked less graceful as she walked, since Aranos had been emulating Martina’s stride in his mental image.  Rhys’ hair was flaxen and hung only to his shoulders instead of down his back, his jaw was square and lightly stubbled, and his features were heavier and more pronounced.  He was also a couple inches shorter than his normal height, was dressed in chainmail, and walked with a heavy gait that was a cross between Phil’s and Hector’s. 

Martina looked like her human, un-Evolved self.  Aranos had never seen her like that, though, so he’d had to dig through Hector’s memories to find her image – with the Warrior’s permission, of course.  Her skin no longer had a grayish sheen to it, her lips were pink instead of dark gray, and her eyes were brown rather than black.  Otherwise, she looked the same as she normally did, since Aranos had only had to make minor alterations to hide her racial change.

Silma had undergone the largest alteration.  There was no way to disguise the huge celestial wolf as any sort of normal wolf or dog; the size difference was simply too great for the Spell to overcome.  He’d had no choice but to shift her appearance to that of a silver-white horse, which she had not been happy about. 

Horses are prey, pack leader, the fenrin fumed.  I am not prey!

Of course you’re not, he soothed her silently.  Anyone who thinks you are is in for a massive shock.  He sent her a mental sigh.  I’m sorry, Silma.  If I don’t change your appearance, then there’s no point in changing mine, since anyone who recognizes what you are will realize who I am almost instantly.  If you want to stay with us, you have to look like a horse; it’s the only animal they’ll allow in the city that’s your size.  Otherwise, you’ll have to stay out here.  It’s up to you.

She’d brooded and pouted, but she’d ultimately accepted his logic.  She’d almost had a second fit when Aranos suggested that she carry their packs, but he’d pointed out that since that’s all horses were good for – he carefully did not mention riding – if they were leading a horse and it wasn’t carrying anything, it would look suspicious.  She’d relented with vague promises to get even with anyone who laughed or made a comment.

Wisely, no one did.

There was very little traffic on the road leading to the city, so they were able to talk freely enough as they approached.  “One notices that this would make excellent farmland,” Rhys said, looking around at the clearing about them.  “I presume there is a reason it is not being utilized as such.”

“You and Geltheriel really need to not talk in the city,” Martina said a bit nervously.  “Humans don’t talk that formally.”

“The reason these aren’t farms,” Meridian broke in, giving Martina a reproachful look, “is that creatures come down from the mountains and out of the forest pretty regularly, and they sweep through here all the time.  All the farms are on the other side of the city, where the monsters don’t go as often.  And I’m sure they’ll be just fine, Martina.”

“Martina’s got a point, Meridian,” Phil said softly.  “The way the elves talk is going to give them away.  At the very least, it’ll bring us attention we don’t want.”

Geltheriel sighed.  “Understand, Irric, that it’s not that elves can’t speak the way humans do,” she said, startling everyone, especially Aranos.  “It’d be stupid to think that our mouths couldn’t make those words.  We just consider it to be…rude.”  Her mouth twisted as she spoke, as if she’d eaten something sour.

“To an elf, using a contraction indicates that we don’t care about the person we’re talking to,” Rhys added, also looking a bit uncomfortable.  “And we only use first names with people we’re exceptionally close to, like family members or lovers.”

“Yeah, I suppose thinking that you couldn’t use contractions was kind of dumb,” the Paladin laughed.  “If you don’t mind, though, I really do prefer Phil.”

“And I prefer calling you ‘Paladin’, but I can’t,” Geltheriel grinned.  “I guess we’ll both have to be unhappy, won’t we?”

The massive gates loomed before them, and Aranos saw that the guards were stopping everyone, speaking to them briefly, and occasionally looking through packs and bags.  Even more often, though, the passersby placed something in the guards’ hands, and the guards waved them through without bothering to look inside the packs.

Bribes, Aranos chuckled silently.  I guess if we don’t want our bags searched, we have to pay for that privilege.  Not that there’s anything in there that I don’t want seen, but…well, except maybe the bag of ore samples from Ilmadia.  Or some of the hides from creatures from elven lands, or the loot from Antas…yep.  Better tell Phil to bribe them.  

He sent a quick message to the Paladin and got a quick reminder back that, as a Paladin, Phil really wasn’t supposed to be passing bribes.  Aranos sighed and moved closer to the front of the group; he’d have to do it himself.

They reached the front of the short line and stopped before the bored-looking guards.  “Names and Classes?” the closest guard asked lazily, not even looking at the party.  Despite their seeming nonchalance, though, Aranos wasn’t fooled.  The guard’s armor and weapons were pristine, and he moved with the ease of someone long practiced at being under arms.  The other guards were being almost aggressively inattentive, but Aranos’ Sense Intent told him that their every sense was trained on those passing through the gate.  This was a city that faced the creatures of Darkness regularly, and the gate guards weren’t there for show.

“Irric Brightblade, Spellsword,” Phil said, naming each of the others by their Base Classes rather than their Advanced ones, including “Oran, Wizard”, “Theria, Ranger”, and “Reece, Cleric”, since Aranos’, Geltheriel’s, and Rhys’ names and Base Classes would have revealed their non-human identities. 

“You’ve got a few more than you left with a couple weeks’ back,” the guard noted astutely.

“Good eye,” Phil congratulated the man.  “We picked up Oran’s group in the High Forest.  We thought the extra damage and healing would help us in Antas.”  The man grimaced.  “We were wrong.”

“Really?” the guard asked.  “We saw the announcement from the gods that Antas had been Liberated, though.”

“By that Aranos guy, not us,” Phil chuckled.  “We spent the whole time outside the city, fighting undead while he went in and killed whatever was in charge.  He was nice enough to let us get what we needed from the Library, though, so we’ve got a Quest to turn in.”

“I’ll just need to check your packs, and you can be on your way,” the guard nodded.  “As you know, we have to confiscate a tenth of all treasure as a tax.”

“Of course,” McBane spoke up quickly, stepping up to stand beside Phil.  “Before you do, though, is there a particular tavern you could recommend to us?  We’ve been on the High Road for a while, and I am dying for some good ale.  Maybe somewhere that you all like to drink?”

“I’d recommend the Thirsty Griffon,” the guard replied, scratching his chin.  “It’s one of the better taverns.  Of course, it’s a bit pricey for simple gate guards…”

“Really?” McBane asked with mock disbelief.  “That’s ridiculous; you keep us all safe, but you can’t afford an ale?  Here, take this in exchange for the recommendation, and join us there tonight, okay?”  Aranos reached out and pressed a single silver link into the man’s hand, probably about the equivalent of half a week’s pay for the soldier.  “That should cover everyone on duty, right?”

“Maybe,” the soldier’s face twisted.  “The Griffon’s pretty expensive…”

“My mistake,” McBane smiled, handing over a second link.  “There, is that good?”

“My thanks,” smiled the guard, stepping back from them.  “Your packs look fine.  Enjoy your stay in Stoneleague, Travelers.”

As they moved past, Geltheriel shook her head.  “That was absurd, Oathbinder,” she muttered to him quietly.  “We could be bringing anything into the city!  We could be assassins…”

“The city’s warded against the Shadowborn, Theria,” Longfellow shook his head.  “That’s why Martina’s been so worried, isn’t it?  She was afraid that the wards would react to her.  Might have been uncomfortable, even fatal, and since every human city has similar wards, she’d have been locked out of the Human Kingdoms entirely.  Look at how relieved she looks.”

Aranos glanced at the Duskstalker and had to agree with Longfellow’s assessment; Martina did look pretty relieved now that they were inside the city.  Kind of wish she’d just said that, though, Aranos thought silently.  At the very least, we could have been prepared for things going wrong.

Stoneleague was vastly different from the elven cities Aranos had become used to and more closely resembled what he considered a typical medieval town.  Elven cities were built throughout the crowns of trees; their streets were wide branches, and their buildings were almost universally crafted from oilarie wood, which was strong, light, and almost impervious to fire and cutting once treated with a type of resin.  The cities were multi-level, three dimensional affairs, and larger buildings were built vertically, not horizontally, since space was at something of a premium.

Stoneleague was built mainly of stone, which Aranos supposed made sense considering how close the mountains were.  The streets were cobbled, the more prominent buildings were fashioned of blocks of stone of varying colors and textures, and the city was surrounded by the massive stone wall.  Smaller, wooden buildings filled the spaces between the larger, stone ones, packed tightly together and leaving only narrow alleys between the wider boulevards. 

There were also far more people in Stoneleague than there’d been in Eredain.  The elven city was a stronghold, supposedly designed to hold the Darkness at bay.  Aranos supposed that Stoneleague, the last city before the Blightlands, was probably the same, but it was much more populated.  Hundreds of people milled around in the square before them, which looked to be a market square with small booths and stands scattered throughout, the merchants probably buying from and selling to the people entering and leaving the city.  There were humans of every description, with every skin tone, hair color, and dress that Aranos could imagine.  He saw mounted cavalry in full plate armor, small urchins running through the crowds, probably stealing whatever they thought they could get away with, and women in fairly scanty clothing sidling up to wealthier looking men. 

It was honestly a bit of sensory overload.  Not only was Aranos overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the city, his Scent Ability was working overtime.  His nose was overcome with a miasma that was a mixture of the constant pall of smoke that seemed to hang everywhere, the stench of bodies that had gone too long without washing, the odors of food and spices, and the scent of horses and cattle.  He had to fight the urge to sneeze and tried to breathe through his mouth as much as possible to allow his enhanced senses to grow accustomed to the city’s stimuli.

He could tell he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed.  Geltheriel and Rhys had to fight to keep from gawking, and he could sense his Follower’s tacit disapproval.  Elven cities were generally more open, and being in the trees meant they had a constant breeze flowing through them that carried away some of the more overpowering smells.  Even though she lacked his Scent Ability, the elf had a significantly higher Perception than he did, and he guessed that the city was just as overwhelming for her.

Rhys simply looked uncomfortable, which Aranos supposed was fair.  The Druid was used to more natural elven dwellings, and the roughly hewn human city was certainly outside of his comfort zone.  There were very few trees or bushes left standing in the city, and the hewn stone beneath their feet felt dead and lifeless to Aranos; he figured it was probably worse for the Druid. 

Silma was equally taken aback, mostly due to the overpowering smells of Stoneleague.  Her nose was more sensitive even than Aranos’, and however strong the odors were for him, they had to be much worse for her.  The constant buzz of noise as the humans talked, shouted, and worked probably hurt her ears, too, since they were lying flat against her head.  She stayed close to Aranos, as if seeking comfort in his proximity, and he reached out aimlessly to pet her neck, sending her reassuring thoughts.

“This is the Upper Gate Market,” Phil told them quietly as they entered the large square.  “It’s the smallest of the three market squares in the city, and generally the cheapest.  The vendors here tend to cater to adventurers coming and going through the Upper Gates into the High Forest or Blightlands, so there are lots of things like adventuring equipment, food, and buyers for various hides and small knick-knacks.

“There’s another small market near the Lower Gate, which leads toward the rest of the Human Kingdoms, and that’s where the farmers, hunters, and foresters sell their goods.  The biggest market is the Guild Square, though, several blocks southeast of here.  The major Guildhouses are set off that square, along with a few banks and the craftsmen that are good enough or rich enough to have their own shops.  If we want to buy or sell anything, we’ll find the best selection there, but we might not get the best prices.”

“We should find a place to stay,” Aranos said a bit tersely, trying not to breathe too deeply.  “I don’t think we need to stay at that Griffon place, though.  If it’s that expensive, staying there will attract attention and cost coins we don’t need to spend.  We need someplace safe but low-key.”

“I know a place,” McBane offered.  “The Black Blade, four blocks south of the Guild Square.”

“I know that inn,” Martina frowned.  “At least, I know of it.  The owner’s got a…less than savory reputation.”

“It was well earned,” McBane chuckled.  “Old Malcolm is a retired thief who decided to steal money from people the old-fashioned way, by overcharging them for watered ale, cheap food, and bad entertainment.  He was my Class trainer, though, so we can trust him, at least so long as we don’t piss off the Thieves’ Guild.”

“Is there a Guild for everything in this city?” Rhys murmured.  “Even the criminals have one; next, you’ll be telling me there’s a Guild for Assassins and one for Beggars.”

“The beggars are part of the Thieves’ Guild; at least, the approved ones are, and they keep the unapproved ones from becoming too numerous,” McBane corrected.  “There is an Assassins’ Guild, though.  It helps to regulate the murders in the city and to make sure that no one critical to the city’s functioning gets killed off.”

“I find it fascinating that you regulate murders,” the Druid chuckled.  “Are they taxed, as well?”

“Of course,” McBane laughed.  “The Guild pays a portion of its profits to the crown in return for being left alone by the guards.  It’s a win for everyone; the Guild doesn’t allow anyone to be killed that the king wouldn’t like dying, and the king makes some money while getting rid of undesirables.”

“That’s…actually very practical,” Geltheriel shook her head.  “What of the bribe we paid?  Is that taxed, too?”

“It goes into a general fund to supplement the guards’ pay,” McBane explained.  “The gate guards face more risk than the patrols or palace guards do because they’re the ones who deal with any creatures that attack the city, but they all get paid the same way.  The bribes are a way to compensate those guards for the extra risk without the king spending the money.  The only people who pay it are those who can afford it; anyone paying the bribe must be bringing something valuable into the city, or they’d just pay the regular tax on goods.”

Aranos laughed.  “Theria’s right; that is pretty practical.  How did you learn about all this?”

“It’s part of the Class training for a Rogue,” the man shrugged.  “We have to learn how the city works so we know how to function outside of the rules.  You have to know which targets are safe to rob and which ones are off-limits, what kind of actions the guards will ignore and which ones will get you chased, and who can be bribed and who can’t.  Trying to bribe a palace guard, for example, is a mandatory death sentence; King Hugin doesn’t mess around with his safety or that of his family.”

“It sounds very – complicated,” Rhys sighed. 

“It is,” McBane agreed.  “That’s part of the fun, though.  Aren’t there Thieves’ Guilds in the Elven Realms?”

“There aren’t any Guilds in elven lands at all,” Rhys corrected.  “Everything is organized by Houses, and no, there are no Rogue Houses.”

“That’s not – technically true,” Geltheriel said slowly.  “There is the House of Dusk.”

Rhys scoffed.  “That’s a legend, Shade – Theria,” he quickly caught himself.  “A hidden House of thieves and assassins?  It’s a story to keep the other Houses in line.”

Geltheriel shook her head.  “No, Reece, it’s not.  As a K – I mean, in my former position, I’ve encountered them.  Only twice, but that was enough.”  She looked at the humans.  “In elven lands, there are two types of Houses: familial and Class Houses.  Oran, for example, is Patriarch of his family House…”

“Of course he is,” Martina sighed.

“And a member of the House of Stars, for elven Wizards.  I was a member of the House of Twilight, similar to a human Rangers’ Guild, while Reece is a member of the House of the Sickle, but we also have family Houses we belong to.

“There is a hidden House, though, the House of Dusk, whose members never openly admit their allegiance.  They’re rogues and assassins, and it’s said they report only to their House Elders and the King and Queen themselves; even city Elders can’t command them.  I’ve seen their handiwork twice, as they left their House symbol as a message, but we never discovered who committed those murders.  As far as I know, no one in the Houses of Twilight or Blades has ever apprehended someone from the House of Dusk.  Of course, that might be because we don’t try very hard.”

Aranos was only half listening to most of this; his focus was on their surroundings.  No one was really close enough to hear them talking, but he saw several people watching them closely as they passed.  “Maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere less public,” he observed after he watched a man in a plain, brown cloak follow the group with his eyes before turning and disappearing into the crowd.  “McBane, how far to this Black Blade place?”

“We’re about halfway there.  We’ll skirt the Guild Square for now – it’s too easy to get distracted there – so it’ll take a bit longer.  Stoneleague’s streets tend to wander a bit once you’re off the main thoroughfares.”

“Lead the way,” Aranos smiled at the Rogue.  “And I hope the owner of the place still considers you a friend.”

The Black Blade was a large building with a first story made of stone and a wooden upper story.  Poorly played music drifted out of the doors, which weren’t quite fitted correctly, as if they’d been knocked loose from the hinges and not repaired well, as did the smells of overcooked food, sour ale, and stale bodies, at least to Aranos’ nose.  A sign depicting a black-painted dagger hanging point-down was the only decoration marking the place.

They left Silma standing next to a hitching post that had a single, swaybacked mare that was decidedly unhappy about Silma’s presence tied to it, then stepped into the smoky, close main room of the tavern.  Aranos’ eyes immediately watered, and he had to blink several times to stop them from stinging as they adjusted to the dimmer light within the open room.  The common room was a simple expanse with scarred, battered tables and benches instead of chairs.  The floor had a layer of sawdust strewn on it that undoubtedly soaked up spilled ale and other, less savory liquids, and the huge fireplace at the other end of the room was filled with a roaring blaze whose smoke was only partially carried away by the stone chimney.

“Grab a table or two,” McBane said quietly.  “I’ll go talk with Malcolm and arrange rooms for us.  It’ll be cheaper if we double up.”  He glanced at Meridian.  “Although if you and Hector are bunking together, that leaves Theria out.”

“I can share a room with Oran,” the woman said easily.  “It won’t be the first time the two of us have had to share sleeping arrangements.”

“Really, now?” Longfellow asked archly.  “Do tell!”

“We were trapped in the ruins of a fallen city, and we had to stand watch over one another or risk being killed in our sleep,” Aranos replied drily.  “Super exciting, right?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped, no,” the Archer admitted.  “Where’s the drama?  The hidden passion that neither of you dared express, suddenly erupting in a whirlwind of romance?  You’re quite disappointing me, Oran.”

“Sweetie, you’re plenty of drama for all of us,” Meridian said sweetly.  “And you’ve been reading too many romance novels, I think.”

“What?” the Archer gasped, his hand pressed against his chest.  “How dare you?  There’s no such thing as too many!”

“While I’m not sure what a ‘romance novel’ is, if they’re what causes you to think such things, Longfellow, then you’ve read far too many,” Geltheriel countered with a grin.  “Don’t push your own, lurid fantasies onto poor Oran.  I’m certain he has enough of his own.”

“Okay, so four rooms,” McBane interrupted before Aranos could defend himself.  “That should be doable.  I’ll be right back.”  The Rogue walked toward the bar, carefully avoiding passing near any occupied tables and staying well back from the female server passing through the room.  I don’t know if he’s just being cautious, or if he’s really worried that they’ll try to steal from him, Aranos thought grimly.  Either way, that’s probably not a great sign.

It was still late afternoon, so most of the tables were empty, and Hector picked one up and carried it over to stand beside the table nearest it, while Phil hefted the sturdy, wooden benches, one in each hand, and set them down on the floor.  The party gathered around the two tables, which despite their shabby exterior seemed fairly solid to Aranos; they were sturdy and well-made but looked to have seen some pretty hard use.

“McBane, you mangy son of a whore!” the bartender shouted as the Rogue walked over toward the bar.  The speaker was a short man, only an inch or two taller than Meridian, with gray hair and a short, coarse, white beard but no mustache.  He had a slight but noticeable paunch, but Aranos noted that his shoulders and arms were well muscled, and his hands moved deftly and nimbly as he wiped down the bar with swift, efficient strokes.  “I never thought I’d see your face in my humble establishment again!”

Aranos felt a moment of concern, but McBane just laughed.  “Malcolm, you rancid goat turd, I never thought I’d be back.  My friends over there wanted to see the worst-run tavern in all of Stoneleague, though, so where else could I take them?”

The two men grasped forearms, and Aranos noticed McBane’s left hand twitch in an odd manner.  Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, but his voice was as boisterous as ever.  “Worst-run?  Bah!  That’d be the Speckled Jester, down by the Lower Gate.  Farah there deals with farmers and peddlers, so she doesn’t care if her food and ale kills them, so long as they make it out the gate before they die.  My customers may be the city’s refuse, but at least they keep coming back!”

Aranos heard several chuckles from the nearby tables, and he relaxed a bit.  Apparently, this was normal behavior for Malcolm, judging from the general lack of reaction among the patrons.  Aranos examined the big man carefully, his high Perception and admittedly low Sense Intent Skill trying to get a read on the man, but he couldn’t pick up any hints of the bartender’s thoughts in his body language.  It didn’t feel like the proprietor had any hostile intentions, but Aranos couldn’t be certain.

“So, beyond our being a stop on your tour, what can I do for you?” Malcolm asked easily, still wiping at the bar, although his eyes never left McBane’s.

“We need rooms for the party, if you’ve got them,” the Giantbane shrugged.  “Four of them, if you can.”

“For how long?”

“Maybe three days?  Might be less, might be more, though.”

“Four rooms will cost three silver a day,” Malcolm shrugged.  “Half upfront.”

“Three silver?” McBane repeated incredulously.  “That’s ridiculous!  Two silver would be too much.  I’d pay three copper links a night, and no more.”

“Then you can find another place to sleep, I guess,” Malcolm shrugged, although Aranos noticed his fingers twitching again as he spoke, and he saw McBane’s face getting redder.

Aranos sighed and rose from his bench.  “I’ll be right back,” he murmured.  He wove through the tables toward the pair, who were now arguing loudly.  At first, Aranos had thought that Malcolm was simply haggling to get the highest price possible, but the man was holding firm at three silvers a night.  As Aranos understood it, a copper link – half of a silver – was enough for a decent room at an inn, so four rooms should have cost two silvers at the most, and that was at a nicer place than this. That Malcolm was demanding such a high price suggested that this might be a game issue, and if it was, Aranos had a feeling he could solve it. 

Taking a deep breath, he channeled half of his SP, pouring it into the glowing pool that represented his Charisma, temporarily boosting the Stat to over 200 just as he reached the bar.  He laid a hand on McBane’s arm, halting the Rogue in mid-tirade, and gave Malcolm a smile.

“Hi there,” he told the smaller, gray-haired man.  “You’re Malcolm, right?”

“That’s me,” the man replied, looking a bit suspiciously at Aranos, although the red flush that had been rising in his face and cheeks as he spoke to McBane started to ease as he looked at Aranos.  “And who might you be?”

“I’m Oran,” Aranos replied, turning to McBane.  “McBane, can you flag down the server and maybe get everyone some drinks?  We’re all pretty thirsty.”  The Rogue looked startled for a moment and seemed as if he’d protest but nodded and walked away from the bar.

“Sorry about that,” Aranos chuckled at Malcolm.  “McBane’s a good guy, but he hasn’t learned how to deal with people very well.  He thinks if he can’t win with reason, he should try volume.”

Malcolm snorted at that, and Aranos could sense a subtle tension leaving his body.  “I’ve noticed that, myself.  I think I might have stopped his training a mite early.  Maybe if I’d smacked him around a bit more, he’d learn proper manners.”

“Well, if we end up staying here, you might get the chance,” Aranos grinned.  “Speaking of which, we really would appreciate the rooms.  McBane said that this was the best place for us to stay – you know, all things considered.”

“It might be, but those considerations aren’t cheap,” Malcolm shrugged.  “I can guarantee that you can stay here in perfect safety from certain guilds who might see you as marks, but that kind of protection has a price.”

“Of course it does,” Aranos nodded, raising a hand in front of his chest, palm up, where it was hidden from the rest of the patrons.  “However, there are all kinds of guilds, Malcolm, and some of them provide their own forms of protection, if you take my meaning.”  As he spoke, Aranos pulled streams of all four elemental mana types, gathering them into a churning ball of fire, wind, stone, and water that spun lazily above his hand. 

Malcolm’s eyes went wide, and he took an involuntary step back before his gaze turned suspicious.  “Wait – so why wouldn’t you stay at the College?  Why here?”

“See the blonde with the long braid?” Aranos smirked.  “There’s your answer, my friend.  The College isn’t fond of guests, especially certain kinds of them.  They’re very stodgy like that.”  Aranos was gambling at that point; in his experience, magical academies tended to be very rigid and usually taught that anything other than study was an unnecessary distraction for students.  The House of Stars hadn’t been like that to him, but then, he’d never been a student there.  It did seem like it was fairly strict with the actual students; as a Traveler and someone with an Expert ranking in Mana Control, though, Aranos had never had to experience that.

It looked, though, like his guess was on the mark, from how Malcolm visibly relaxed.  “I’ve heard that about them,” the man acknowledged.  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone from the College has rented a room for a night and only used it for a couple hours.”

“Well, what you’ve heard is true, my friend.  In any case, though, I can offer you things other than money to make it worth our time, here.  For example, I can almost guarantee that there won’t be any fights breaking out in the room while I’m around.  Everyone will stay nice and calm, which will be better for your furniture, if nothing else.”

Malcolm grunted.  “True.  Tell you what, we’ll make it two and a half silvers a night.”

“One,” Aranos countered.  “Remember, you’re not just protecting us, Malcolm.  We’re protecting you, too.  A man with your background has to have made enemies, but how many of them would be willing to cross the College?  Or risk dealing with someone with my talents?”

“More than you might think,” the man guffawed.  He looked carefully at Aranos.  “Two silvers a night, Wizard.  That’s my final offer.”

“One and a half, and that includes meals and stabling for our horse,” Aranos smiled.  “You don’t even need to feed her, just give her a place to stay.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Oran, but it’s a deal,” Malcolm sighed.  “That’s four silvers and a copper link for the three nights, meals and stabling included.  Drinks are still extra, though.”

“Of course,” Aranos laughed, handing over two silvers and a copper link.  “Here’s the half upfront, as agreed.  My thanks, Malcolm.”

“You can thank me by not letting anyone else see what you just showed me, and by keeping this place calm.  That’s worth a silver a day in broken ceramic, right there.”

Aranos made his way back to the party and sat down.  “Four and a half for the three days, and it includes meals,” he grinned. 

“How did you do that?” McBane asked suspiciously.  “Was that a Spell?”

“High Charisma,” Aranos shook his head.  “Mine’s over 100, and I boosted it over 200 before I chatted with Malcolm.  That cranks my Bargaining Skill up pretty high.  I probably could have gotten him down to 1 silver a night, but it didn’t seem worth it.”

“But Malcolm knows me,” McBane argued.  “He was my Class trainer…”

“Do you have reputation with him?” Aranos interrupted.  McBane frowned, then shook his head, and Aranos shrugged.  “There you go.  Remember, McBane, in the – in this world, your Charisma and Reputation heavily influence people’s interactions with you.  Malcolm didn’t know me, but thanks to my Charisma, he was more willing to listen to and believe what I was saying.”

“Oran is correct,” Rhys said quietly.  “The gods influence us in many ways, some subtler than others, and Charisma is one of the subtlest.  The words of those with high Charisma simply sound more pleasing and believable, and being near them gives one a feeling of comfort and harmony.  That is why – Oran, here, is so easy to follow.  His Charisma affects you, even if you do not realize it.”

McBane frowned.  “That doesn’t work with pl…with Travelers, though,” he pointed out. 

“Perhaps it does, perhaps not, but as Malcolm isn’t a Traveler, it doesn’t matter much, does it?” Geltheriel pointed out.  “The fact is, we never know for certain when someone’s Charisma is affecting us – although we may occasionally suspect it – but it affects us all the same.  Oran can convince people of things you can’t, McBane, simply because of his Charisma.  He – and anyone else with high Charisma – should probably be in charge of all of our negotiations and dealings in this city, if it’s possible.”

“Mine’s almost fifty,” Meridian spoke up.  “I don’t know any way to train it, but I should look into it while we’re in town.  I bet I could get it up to a hundred in a couple weeks if I tried.”

“I think it’d be worth it,” Aranos nodded.  “My Charisma’s helped me a lot so far. Not only did it save us some money, here, but it also gave me a bit of reputation with Malcolm.  The more I talk to him, the higher that’ll probably get, until he’d let me stay here for free if I asked…and wouldn’t tell anyone else anything about us.”

The conversation stopped as the waitress came back to the table.  She was a pretty young woman that looked to be in her late teens, with light brown hair and a lightly freckled face.  “Here you are,” the woman said in a cheery voice.  “Five ales, two waters, and one red wine.  That’s seven coppers.” 

“Here you are, dear,” Longfellow handed the woman a silver disc with a smile.  “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” she said with a perfunctory smile as she moved around.  “Who got what?”

“What did you order for me?” Aranos asked.

“An ale,” the man shrugged.  “The wine is for Meridian, and Theria and Reece just wanted water.”

The woman set the mug down in front of Aranos, and he gave her a small smile.  “Thank you,” he told her.  “When you get a chance, can you let us know what’s available for dinner?”

“Of course,” the woman replied, giving him a genuine, open grin.  “Tonight, we’ve got lamb chops and pork stew.”

“Which would you order?” Aranos asked. 

“Well…I shouldn’t say this, but the pork’s a bit old.  I’d have the chops, personally.”

“That’s what I’ll have, then,” Aranos nodded.  “Does that come with anything else?”

“Vegetables and a small loaf of bread,” she told him brightly.

“Sounds great.”.

The woman took their orders, then returned a few minutes later with the food.  “Is there anything else you need?” she asked Aranos, deftly pocketing the extra copper from Longfellow without even looking at the Archer.  “Anything at all?”

“I’m sure we’ll need another round of drinks, soon,” the Sorcerer replied, slipping her a copper of his own.  “You should buy one for yourself, too.”

“I just might do that,” she laughed warmly, her face turning slightly pink as she spoke.  “Maybe I’ll come back and drink it with you, later.  If you’re new to the city, you’ll need someone to tell you about the latest news, right?”

“We just might,” he agreed.  “Thank you.”

“No, thank you ,” she smiled as she moved away from the table. 

Aranos turned to see the others staring at him, some in amusement, others in confusion.  “Did you see that?” Longfellow mock protested.  “I gave that woman four coins – four of them – and she didn’t give me the time of day.  This bloke gives her one, and she’s ready to come sit in his lap and spill her secrets.  Totally unfair!”

“The power of Charisma,” Geltheriel shrugged.  “Although I think that poor girl’s in for a surprise when she knocks on Oran’s door tonight and I open it.”  She glanced over at Aranos.  “And no, I’m not sleeping in the hall, Oran.”

“I would never ask you to,” he protested.  “Besides, I think you’re overstating things.  She’s being a bit nicer to me, but that’s all…”  They stopped as the woman returned and began setting plates down, starting with Aranos and finishing with Longfellow, even though that meant skipping the Archer and coming back to him.   At the end, the woman also set an extra ale in front of Aranos.

“Compliments of the house,” she said brightly.  “To celebrate the first time I’ve seen anyone outbargain old Malcolm.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back at her.

“Is there anything else I can get you?  Anything at all?”  As she spoke, she leaned over him, and he was suddenly aware that in her absence, the woman had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse.

“Not – not at the moment, no,” he replied, glad that his illusion hid the startled blush that he could feel rising in his face.

“Maybe later, then,” she smiled at him and moved off.

“Yeah, she’s knocking at your door tonight, honey,” Meridian chuckled.  “Sorry, Theria.  Maybe you can bunk with Phil and Rhys for the night.”

“Or maybe the young woman will realize the merits of a chaste friendship,” Geltheriel grinned at Aranos.  “At least, after I’ve spoken with her, I’m sure she’ll see things that way.”

Phil laughed, then cleared his throat.  “Okay, so let’s make some plans while we’re here,” he said quietly.

“Wait a second,” Aranos interrupted, reaching out with his High Mastery Ability and grabbing the air around them.  He wove the strands of air mana into a loose pattern of linked vortices, nothing as solid as his air shield, but just enough to create a half-globe of wind a fraction of an inch thick around them.  Instantly, the room grew quiet as the sounds from beyond their globe were muffled.  “Okay, that should do it.  It’ll be harder for anyone to hear us, now.”

“Handy,” McBane nodded.

“I hope so,” Aranos agreed.  “So Phil, you, Meridian, Longfellow, and McBane all need to go to the temple tomorrow to turn in your Quest, right?”

“Yep,” the Paladin nodded.  “Although it’s a church, not a temple, at least here in Stoneleague.”

“Got it.  I need to make contact with the Mages’ College and see if I can get access to their libraries.”

“I think Neela could help with that, couldn’t she?” Hector asked, glancing at Phil.  “She’s still at the College, right?”

“She was when we left the city,” Martina broke in.  “I tried to convince her to join Hector and I on the trip to Antas, but she didn’t want to.  She’s apparently pretty into the College.”

“I can send her a message,” Hector shrugged.  “I’ll bet she can send you to the right person, if nothing else.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Aranos said gratefully.  “What will you guys be doing?”

“I’d like to hit the Adventurers’ Guild,” Martina spoke up.  “I’ll bet there are some Quests there that we could handle, now that we’ve got our Advanced Classes.”  She looked at Geltheriel.  “You and Reece are welcome to join us, if you want.  We could certainly use you both.”

Geltheriel glanced at Aranos, who nodded fractionally.  “I don’t have anything better to do,” the Shadedancer replied.  “What about you, Reece?”

“If Oran will be busy, then certainly, I’ll join you,” the Druid shrugged.  “It could be interesting to be part of a party that isn’t trying to free entire realms and defeat legendary creatures.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Aranos grinned, raising his second mug of ale.  “Which means it’ll probably all fall apart first thing in the morning.”