Chapter 24

Aranos found Avalyn deep in study when he returned to the Hall of the Unformed.  A couple of young, male Wizards were sitting near her, trying to engage her in conversation, but she was blatantly ignoring them, her eyes fastened to her books.  Aranos felt an urge to go over and shoo the boys away, but he figured that Avalyn had probably been handling herself in the College just fine without him so far, and he doubted the Wizards would let anyone cross any boundaries, especially in the middle of the common area. 

He headed over to the door he’d exited after his last visit with the dean and found a brown-haired woman in black robes with a single gold stripe on her arm standing beside the door.  As he approached, she gave him a clearly irritated look.  “Are you Oran?” she asked crisply.

“That’s me,” he nodded.  “I’m here to speak with Dean Janeczek.”

The woman gave him an obvious up-and-down appraisal and shook her head.  “I was asked to – escort you to his office,” she said distastefully.  “Please follow me.”

He followed the woman through the door silently into the small antechamber to the School of the Fathomless.  They stopped there, and she spent a minute casting an elaborate Spell.  The world lurched, and suddenly he found himself in a different location, his senses reeling.  Everything seemed to swim in his vision, and he sat down heavily as his balance wavered for several moments.  He swallowed hard to keep the contents of his stomach in place, barely managing it as the world slowly settled around him. 

“Are you okay?” the woman beside him asked almost perfunctorily.

“I’m fine,” he gasped as his vision finally stabilized.  “I don’t teleport well, but – it’s usually not this bad.”

“Ah, I see what’s happening,” Veronica’s voice suddenly spoke in his mind.  “I’ve been wondering about this, Jeff.  You know that you’re the only player that reacts this strongly to being teleported?  Some people have complained of dizziness, but no one else has been vomiting or falling down like you.”

Gee, lucky me, he thought sarcastically as he rose unsteadily to his feet.  What do you mean, you see what’s happening?

“I mean, thanks to all the practice you’ve given us recently in shifting your sensory input in a hurry, I actually figured out why you’re being affected this way.  It’s a matter of sensory priorities.”

That didn’t really explain much, he thought a bit waspishly, trying to keep his stomach down.  What does that mean?

“Humans are extremely sight-oriented,” she explained, “so when you’re moving through the game, we prioritize establishing your visual field over everything else.  Your brain corrects for small delays in sound, touch, smell, and so on, as we discussed before, but it tends to alter them all to match your visual input. 

“The problem is that your proprioception – your sense of body awareness, balance, etc. – is also fairly high priority, but since it isn’t usually linked to your sight, when there are big changes to sight, proprioception gets shunted down the priority ladder.  When you teleport, we’re altering your entire visual field at once, and we’ve been altering your auditory, tactile, olfactory, and other major senses to match what you’re seeing before we stabilize proprioception.”

That’s actually pretty interesting, he admitted.  But why only me?

“You’re the one most connected to the game, so the delay is hitting you harder than everyone else.  Your body awareness isn’t matching what your vision is telling you, and the result is motion sickness.”

I’m glad you figured it out, he thought gratefully.  Any chance you can fix it?

“Well, we can push proprioception up in the priority list, but it won’t be something we can just do.  The change will affect every transition you make in the game, not just teleporting.  It’ll require a big patch, so we’ll take care of it next time you’re all logged out, but until then, you’ll just have to endure, sorry.”

Again, lucky me, he sighed, but the sense of her presence had vanished.  What, she doesn’t want to listen to me whine?

“Are you recovered?” the Wizard asked brusquely.  “The dean is waiting for us, you know.”

“Give me a second,” he groaned, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.  He wondered if his brief dislocation had made this effect worse than it had been before, or if the effect was stronger because of the person casting the Spell.

“Fine,” she snapped, and he heard her muttering under her breath.  It didn’t take much to see why she was unhappy; she was probably the most junior Wizard available, and she certainly wouldn’t appreciate being told to go fetch him.  He remembered being low on the totem pole, too, and he’d hated having to go make coffee runs for the office or being the guy to run stuff up to the bigwigs that was too sensitive to be sent electronically. 

As his balance stabilized, he opened.  “Okay, I’m good.”

“Finally,” she muttered.  “This way.”  She led him down a long hallway to a gold-plated doorway, elaborately carved with runes and lacking any sort of handle.  She reached out and touched the door, and a moment later, it swung open, revealing a simple, austere room without other doors or windows that Aranos could see.  A man with curly, black hair sat behind a desk against the far wall, his eyes unfocused as he apparently stared at something only he could see.

The woman walked before the desk and cleared her throat.  “Director Alphenor?” she said in a carefully neutral voice.  “This is the Traveler Dean Janeczek asked to see.”

“So I see,” the man spoke in a deep, bass voice that belied his narrow chest.  “Tell me, Wizard Selina, how did you accomplish this task?”

The woman looked startled, and her eyes narrowed.  “I teleported down to the main floor and waited in the Hall of the Unformed for him for ten minutes,” she said flatly.  “Then I teleported the two of us back here and waited longer while he recovered his wits.”

“Interesting.  So, you took something on the order of twenty minutes to accomplish a job that might have taken five?”  The man shook his head.

The woman’s eyes narrowed.  “Five minutes?” she repeated in a voice tinged with rising anger.  “Director, I was told to watch for the Traveler and bring him here.  It’s not my fault that it took twenty minutes; most of that was waiting for him!”

“True,” the man nodded, still staring off into space.  “Traveler, can you see how she could have accomplished this task in five minutes?”

“No,” he shook his head.  “Even if she’d stayed in the tower, checked the front Hall with scrying magic every couple of minutes to see if anyone was there, and opened a portal for me instead of going to fetch me herself, she’d still have had to keep checking for that ten minutes.”

“Fair point.”  The man’s eyes focused, and he turned to face Wizard Selina, whose face was abashed.  “Still, what do I always tell you is the key to using Spatial magic, Wizard Selina?”

The woman’s gaze dropped to the floor.  “To find the solution that uses the least amount of time, SP, and effort, Director,” she mumbled. 

“You could have remained in your room, opened two coextensive portals, and never had to even greet the Traveler, had you put more thought into the exercise,” the man told her gently.  “Instead, you let your wounded pride convince you that you’d been given a task beneath your abilities rather than a test of how well you’ve learned your lessons.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the man held up a hand.  “There’s no need to say anything if you’ve learned from this.  Have you?”  She nodded.  “Then return to your studies and remember it for next time.”  She bowed her head, turned, and walked wordlessly out the door.

“So, you’re the Traveler Oran,” the man spoke easily, turning to face Aranos.  “Or, I suppose, that’s what you’re calling yourself, yes?”

“More or less,” Aranos shrugged.  “Is the dean in?”

“He is.  Hold on, and I’ll open a portal for you.”  The man made several passes with his hands, and suddenly a glowing portal swirled into being before Aranos, revealing the interior of Radomil’s office.  “He’s waiting for you.”

Radomil was sitting at his desk, a book open before him, scribbling notes on a piece of parchment.  “A moment, Traveler,” the brown-haired man spoke, his eyes never leaving his paper.  “Please, be seated.”

Aranos took a seat and waited for several minutes before Radomil laid down his quill.  “Thanks for being patient,” the dean smiled.  “I was making notes about things to research in your Library.  I want to be prepared, since I’ve only got the one day for right now.”

“Smart,” Aranos nodded.  “What are you planning to focus on?”

“The practice of magic before the Feast,” the man said, his eyes gleaming.  “So much of our knowledge was lost, and I’m hoping we can reclaim some of it.  Did you know there hasn’t been an Archmage since the Feast, for example?  Or that no one’s managed to master the Domain of Time?” 

“I don’t even know what an Archmage is,” Aranos admitted.

“It was once an Evolved Wizard Class, but the secrets of it were lost in the Feast.  All the Archmages of the time were killed, and no one was left to pass on that knowledge to a new generation.”

“That doesn’t really explain what one is,” Aranos pointed out.

“No one really knows,” Radomil shrugged with a grin.  “The little bit of information we have suggests that they were Wizards who could access more than one Domain without mastering any of them, though.”  The man shook his head, his face disbelieving.  “Everything we know says that’s impossible.  To unlock a Domain, you have to be totally committed to that single concept.  There’s just no room in a person for two.  At least, that’s the teaching, but if the stories are true, those teachings are wrong.”

Aranos smiled; the man’s eagerness was a bit infectious.  “I’m planning to head back to Antas tomorrow; at least, that’s my hope.  Will you be ready to travel then?”

“That should be plenty of time to get myself organized,” Radomil nodded.  “In the meantime, since you’re here, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Teleportation magic,” Aranos replied.  “I haven’t unlocked that, yet, and I was hoping you could demonstrate it for me and maybe walk me through it.  And are there any other combinations of mana you would suggest I look at?”

Radomil leaned back, thoughtfully.  “Spatial and Lightning mana are an effective combination,” he said.  “I’ll let you figure out what it does, but it can be very useful, especially against melee types.  Otherwise, from what you said, you’ve pretty much gotten all the Spatial and Primary combinations.”  He frowned.  “What Soul mana aspects have you unlocked?”

“Restorative and Necrotic only.  Well, and Astral.”

“Astral’s useful and fairly rare.  That’s something worth working on.”  Radomil seemed lost in thought.  “Soul mana is something of an intensifier, for lack of a better word.  Add it to Telekinetic mana, for example, and you get the Psionic Aspect, which allows you to do more than Telekinetic does.  Add it to Evocation Spells, and you’ve got the Invocation Aspect, which draws power from other worlds rather than summoning a creature; you can basically use otherworldly Abilities without the danger of being eaten if your summoned creature gets away from you.”

“Can it be combined with Elemental mana?” Aranos asked eagerly.  “I figured if Spatial mana combines with so much…”

“Not the case, I’m afraid,” Radomil laughed.  “Spatial mana can be combined in more ways than any other Enhanced aspect, and Mind mana can be combined in fewer ways than any other.  Soul is toward the low end of that scale.  As I said, it’s an intensifier; mix it with most Primary types, and you just get a stronger Spell, not a whole, new Aspect.  Spirit mana is one that combines with a lot of types, though, as Conjuration mana.  I know about that, but I can’t help you with it, since I don’t have Spirit mana unlocked, sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Aranos sighed.  “Just knowing that things can be done is a huge help, actually.”

“I can help you with Teleportation, though,” Radomil smiled.  “Let’s talk about how Teleportation differs from Dimensional Spells…”

It took Aranos about thirty minutes to master the intricate weave of Dimensional and Life mana that formed the Teleportation Aspect – as well as the construct of Dimensional and Death mana that made Forbiddance mana, which held out portals and teleporting Spells or Abilities.  He’d already learned most of the limits of Teleportation magic through his studies.  It tended to be inaccurate unless you were teleporting to a spot in sight range, one you knew well, or one that was clearly marked by anchoring runes, the way the teleport gates in elven cities worked.  He couldn’t teleport outside of a region or through most magical barriers the way Geltheriel could with her Shadow magic, and if he teleported into a solid object accidentally, he’d take a lot of damage.

Forbiddance Spells seemed to be fairly simple in concept.  The Forbiddance Aspect allowed him to seal an area, object, or person so that portals and teleporting wouldn’t function for them.  It was different from Warding mana, which prevented creatures from other worlds from entering or leaving an area, but like Warding mana, any caster or creature could overcome a Forbiddance Spell with an Opposed Check.  Still, Aranos planned to create a Forbiddance Spell as soon as possible and add it to the defensive protections around Antas.  While every city somewhat resisted Dimensional travel into and out of it, adding a specific ward to the city apparently made it much more secure.

Geltheriel was waiting patiently for him when he returned to the main lobby.  “Did you do everything you needed?” she asked as he returned.

“More or less,” he nodded.  “Thank you for being patient.”

“Not that I had a lot of choice,” she pointed out.  “Oh, your Wizard friend left here a while ago.  She seemed – determined to leave.”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he hedged, eyeing the people behind the counter.  He didn’t want Neela to get into any trouble, and he was sure that anything the students behind the counter overheard would be passed to their superiors almost immediately.

“Of course,” Geltheriel nodded, understanding instantly.  “Where are we going next?”

“Merchants’ Guild.  I want to see if they’re interested in that idea you were talking about before.”

“Oh, they’ll be interested, Oran,” she assured him.  “Let’s just go find out how interested they’ll be.”

The small lobby of the Guild was far less crowded and much quieter than it had been the last time Aranos and Geltheriel visited.  Instead of a horde of merchants all clamoring for attention and shouting out complaints, the room had a handful of plainly dressed men and women talking in low tones to one another.  Their faces still looked drawn, haggard, and worried, but there was no sense of building panic in the air this time.  The woman standing behind the counter was accompanied by a single guard who stood well back.  She was somewhat older than Aranos, probably a decade or so his senior, with chestnut hair, small eyes, and a large nose that dominated her face.  As Aranos walked to the counter, she looked up from the papers she was examining, her gaze dull and incurious.

“Welcome to the Merchants’ Guild,” she said in a dry monotone.  “How can the Guild serve you today?”  Her eyes seemed to almost focus past him rather than on him, and he wondered if she had difficulty seeing.  She wasn’t squinting, but she wasn’t really focusing, either.

“Um, yeah,” he replied, a bit nonplussed by her diffident reaction.  “My name’s Oran, and…”

“Oran?” one of the merchants behind him interrupted, and conversation suddenly died out.  “Oran, Master of Elements?  The one who ended the tigroon menace?”  Aranos turned to look at a short, slim young man with sandy brown hair and a round face.  “Is that you?”

“That’s me,” Aranos nodded.  “And this is my companion, Theria.”  He gestured to the woman beside him.

The merchant rushed up and seized Aranos’ hand in both of his, shaking it enthusiastically.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man gushed.  “You saved my business!  How can I ever repay you?”

“He’s been repaid, Merchant MacGregor,” the woman behind the counter said coolly.  “It was a Quest, and he was rewarded for completing it.”

“She’s right,” Aranos assured the man.  “Thanks, though – Merchant MacGregor?”

“Finn,” the man corrected.  “Finn MacGregor.”  He continued to shake Aranos’ hand.  “Even so, if there’s anything I can do…”

“You could let us talk to this woman, so we can complete our business here,” Geltheriel spoke a little archly, one eyebrow raised expressively.  “I’m sure you’re busy, as well.”

“Oh, right,” the man smiled sheepishly as he dropped Aranos hand at last.  “Sorry about that.  I’ve just never met an actual professional Adventurer before.  I guess I got a little excited.”

“No worries,” Aranos laughed a little uncomfortably.  “Theria’s right, though.  We really do have a lot to do today.”

“Of course,” the merchant nodded.  “I’ll let you get to it.  Just wanted to say thanks.  A lot of us owe you one for taking care of those monsters.”  He looked meaningfully at the woman behind the counter.  “A lot of us, Merchant Vesik.  Including you, I think.”

“Yes, yes, including me,” the woman sighed.  “So, Oran, now that the hero-worshipping is done, what are you actually here for?”

“We’re here…” he began, but Geltheriel cut him off.

“With a confidential proposal,” she said firmly.  “One that’s somewhat sensitive.  We wanted to give the Guild the right of first refusal, but it needs to be done in private.”

The merchant’s eyes narrowed.  “Very well,” she said after a moment.  “I’ll summon one of our agents to speak with you, if you’ll wait.  It’ll probably be a few minutes, though.  Is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” Aranos nodded.  “We can wait.”  The pair moved over to the wall, and Aranos surreptitiously touched the ring on his finger.  What was that all about? he asked Geltheriel silently.

The merchants in this room are all either very junior members of larger houses or the heads of very small, new houses, Oathbinder, she answered silently.  In Eredain, you can find similar sorts lounging about the House of Summer, the Merchanting House, hoping to pick up a bit of gossip or information they might find useful.

So, they just stand around and hope to hear gossip?  That seems like a waste of time.

It often is, Oathbinder, she agreed.  However, occasionally a small tidbit of valuable information will be let slip by an incautious messenger or clerk – and sometimes, those same can be bribed to reveal such information.  In those cases, a small House can use what they have gleaned to amass a quick fortune, while a junior merchant can prove to their seniors that they are worthy of inclusion in the higher reaches of the House.  For some, the wait is worth the hope of reward.

Aranos nodded his head; he supposed he could see that.  It was a common enough thing among gamers – noobs in a game would often linger in the forums, hoping to pick up tricks and tips from more experienced players, or even pretend to be veteran gamers in order to fool others into sharing some of their secrets.  He supposed it was a legitimate practice for merchants, too. 

So, if I’d talked about Antas aloud…

Then these lingering merchants would be either plying us with their wares, hoping that we would allow them to come to our city, or would be passing word to merchants larger than we would like of the opportunity.  We do not want things to spiral out of our control so quickly, I believe.

Aranos’ reply was interrupted as a familiar figure walked out of the back.  Master Merchant Warren was dressed in royal blue instead of pea green today, and his wispy, white hair wasn’t quite as disheveled as the last time Aranos had seen him.  The old man’s face, though, still had a disgruntled expression on it as he walked up to the counter and lifted a section of it, revealing a gate in the seemingly solid structure.

“Oran,” the old man spoke gruffly, inclining his head to the pair.  “It’s good to see you again.  Come with me.”  He opened the gate and waited for Aranos and Geltheriel to pass through before closing it and replacing the counter with an audible click.  “This way,” the man gestured, leading the two through the door and into a back area that was far more crowded and much busier than the front. 

“Welcome to the actual Merchants’ Guild,” Warren said shortly.  “That part out there is just for show; this is where the real work gets done.”  Aranos could tell at once that the man was speaking the truth.  Men and women dressed in various levels of finery rushed around, carrying scrolls or sheafs or paper.  Others stood in small groups, arguing quietly but furiously with one another.  He watched money change hands more times than he wanted to count, and every so often a group of people would walk over to a desk staffed by what Aranos guessed were clerks or functionaries, handing over stacks of papers.

“Here, a significant chunk of the wealth in the Human Kingdoms is made and lost daily,” Warren continued as he led the pair back through the organized chaos.

“It looks like quite a bit of speculation is going on,” Geltheriel observed.  “Someone must have gotten some pretty important information.”

The merchant looked at her, his eyes slightly impressed.  “You’re right,” he acknowledged.  “Good eyes.  Someone got a magical message from Northmoor that their northern guard tower fell to Shadowed creatures, and it leaked out somehow.  Now, some people are trying to divest themselves of whatever holdings they have in Northmoor, since there’s an old legend that the tower falling means the city will, too.  Other people are buying those holdings up for silvers on the gold; if the city doesn’t fall, they’ll be rich, but if it does, they’ll lose out in a big way.”

The man opened a door and led the pair into a small office.  He closed the door and touched a rune beside it; instantly, Aranos felt a whisper of mana slide through the room.  He cautiously reached out with his Sense Mana Skill; the room was surrounded by a wall of Sonic energy that he guessed would keep any sounds from exiting.

“This room is now secure against prying ears,” the old man said, walking over and sitting at a desk, gesturing to a pair of comfortable-looking chairs.  As Aranos and Geltheriel sat, the man continued.  “Let me first start by telling you that this is an unusual situation.  Normally, if someone who wasn’t a member in good standing of the Guild – or even if they were a junior member of the Guild – had a confidential offer for us, they’d have to fill out a request form, put as much information about the request as possible on it, submit it through the proper channels, and wait until someone read it and either decided to pass it on or that it wasn’t worth our time.  Sadly, it’s most often the latter.”  The man shrugged.

“Then thank you for meeting with us,” Aranos caught the hint.  “We appreciate your taking the time when things are so obviously busy around here.”

“After what you did for the Guild, the only decent thing to do is to hear you out.”  Warren chuckled.  “If word got out that you’d been turned away, we might have had an uprising on our hands, especially after this business in Northmoor.  We still don’t know what’s going on over there, except that both King Hugin and Queen Ysabelle have lost numerous patrols along the Trade Road, even some fairly large ones.  We’re going to need the Adventurers’ Guild to put more bodies on this, so we can’t afford to turn aside the Adventurer currently most in favor with our merchants.” 

He leaned back, folding his hands across his chest.  “So, Oran, what’s this proposal you’ve got?”

Aranos took a deep breath, shifting points from his Physical Stats into his Charisma to boost the Stat over 200 temporarily.  He had a feeling he’d need it for what was about to come. 

“I’m going to take a big risk with what I’m about to tell you, Warren,” he said slowly.  “Or, I guess, what I’m going to tell you and show you, to be fair.  First of all, my name’s not really Oran – and I’m not really human.  Don’t freak out…” 

He let the Illusory Cloak slide off him, revealing his alien features, gemlike skin, and brilliant, red hair.  To his credit, Warren didn’t jump back or draw a weapon – Aranos hadn’t seen one on the man, but he assumed he had a knife or something hidden somewhere – but his eyes widened until Aranos could see the whites all around the pupils, and his face drained of color.

“Who – no, what are you?” the man asked softly. 

“My name’s Aranos,” the Sorcerer answered.  “Aranos, Lord Evenshade, the Grand Liberator and Heart-bonded of Antas.”

“Antas?” the man repeated.  He seemed to regain his composure.  “Wait, Aranos the Liberator?  I heard you were an elf – which you’re obviously not.”

“I was an elf.  Well, I was an aleen,” Aranos corrected.  “Half elf, half fay…”

“I’m aware of what an aleen is,” the man snapped as it looked like he recovered his wits.  “It’s obvious that you Evolved and favored your fay heritage.  So, what are you now?”

“High arcane,” Aranos shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that I’ve got a newly Liberated city – and no merchants in it.  I’ve got contacts with the elves, and I’ve recently gained reputation with the dwarves – a relationship I’m planning on growing ASAP.  Antas used to be the hub where all three nations interacted, and I’d like to make it that again.”

Warren was shaking his head.  “That was because of the High Roads,” he pointed out.  “Antas is cut off from all those realms, now.  No caravan would risk taking the High Roads, and there’s no Trade Road to Antas because there isn’t a need for it.  One could be built, but it would be a long process…”

“I’m working on setting up a portal system,” Aranos cut the man off.  “I can already create portals from Antas to Stoneleague, and I can probably open a connection between my city and the nearest elven one, Eredain.  If I can do that, then people can travel between the cities without needing to use the High Roads.”

“If,” the merchant pointed out, his eyes narrow.  “That’s quite an if, though.  And what do you have to trade?  Antas was renowned for its knowledge – are you planning to sell information?”

“I might end up selling passes to the Library,” he admitted.  “But I’m hoping to get human, elven, and dwarven merchants all in one city and let you all trade with one another.”

“While you tax every transaction,” Warren nodded, his eyes going speculative.  “Still, that’s a big ‘if’.  What are you looking for from us?  Funding?  Venture capital?”

“No, I’m fine on money,” Aranos laughed.  “I need bodies.”  Seeing the man’s alarmed face, he hastily clarified.  “Not corpses or sacrifices or anything.  I need people living in my city.  I need people to rebuild, to inhabit it.  I need farmers to work the land, lumberjacks to harvest the forests as they regrow, miners to look for ore veins beneath it and in the nearby mountains.  I need crafters to make what people need.  In other words, I need to fill a city.  To do that, I need merchants, because without merchants, people won’t be able to sell whatever they find or produce or buy what we can’t make yet.”

“You want the Guild to establish a branch in Antas?” the old man asked.

“Maybe eventually,” Aranos hedged.  “For right now, I’m looking for a merchant who’d we willing to relocate to Antas.  Someone who’s small enough that the opportunity will matter to them but established enough to have their own supply networks and contacts.  Someone who deals in lots of different items, especially ones that are human-specific, and who won’t mind working with other races.”

“And in return, what are you offering the Guild?  A share of every transaction ourselves?”

Aranos laughed.  “No, I’d offer you a finder’s fee,” he told the man.  “You locate the right merchant, and I pay you based on how well you’ve met my criteria.”

“That’s both imprecise and not very advantageous for the Guild,” Warren protested.  “We’d be losing a merchant – and all the income they bring in – and getting a noncommittal lump payment?”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Aranos countered.  “Whoever you send will still be a member of the Guild and will still have to pay Guild dues – which I presume is a minimum amount, plus a percentage of profits – and you’ll probably work out a side arrangement with them for an extra percentage in return for giving me their name.  You’ll get money from me, money from them, and probably more money in the long run because as they prosper, so do you.  If things work out and Antas becomes the trading center I’m hoping, you’ll want to open a branch of the Guild there, and having good relations with the city’s ruler will help that.  Plus, this way you’ll make the most money by choosing someone who’ll succeed in Antas, which encourages you to make a good choice for me.”

The merchant stared at Aranos for several moments before shaking his head and sighing.  “You have an absurdly high Charisma, don’t you?” he complained.  “That all seems – very reasonable, and I don’t think it should.  I should be demanding an upfront payment just to start looking, telling you how hard it will be to find a merchant like you’re seeking, and convincing you that it’ll be best for everyone if you allow us to take a percentage of the profits rather than a lump sum.

“The thing is,” the man grimaced, “I have a bad feeling about Northmoor.  I think that soon enough, we’re going to be cut off from the Eastern Kingdoms and be fully reliant on Avendale for trade – which will mean that the Merchants’ Guild there will bleed us dry.  We need to open another trade route, and unless the dwarves come out of hiding, west is the only real option.”

Before Aranos could reply, the man held up a hand.  “I can think of several smaller merchants that would perfectly suit your needs,” he told Aranos.  “I won’t bother, though, unless you can set up the portal relay you’re talking about.  Bring me a specific proposal with details of payment and show me proof of your relay, and I’ll get you a merchant who’ll be perfect for you – and maybe even more than one, depending on your relay and the presence of the elves and dwarves that you’re talking about.  That’s the best I can do.”

“That is more than fair, Master Merchant,” Geltheriel spoke before Aranos could reply, rising to her feet.  Aranos hesitated a moment in surprise before hurriedly following suit, as did Warren a moment later.  “We shall formulate a contract proposal and have it delivered for your inspection within two days.  Is that acceptable?”

“It is,” Warren nodded.  “Don’t forget to put your disguises back on before you leave, though.  Things are nervous around here right now; I don’t need some kind of panic making things worse.”

“You understand, of course, that this deal is contingent upon our remaining in disguise in the city,” Geltheriel said smoothly.  “If our identities were to be widely known, it would be impossible for us to function in this city, much less finalize a trade agreement – one that will certainly be far more valuable than the information of our true nature, I’m certain, both to the Guild and to you, through your share of the finder’s fee.”

The merchant laughed.  “You know how a merchant thinks, lady elf,” he bowed sardonically.  “Don’t worry; I understand.  I’ll have to pass your identities on to those higher than me in the Guild, just to justify the deal I’m offering you, but they’ll also see that your friendship is far more beneficial than leveraging this sort of information could ever be.”  He smirked.  “And that having the enmity of the person who conquered a city that even armies failed to take will generate no profit whatsoever.  Your secret is safe.”

Aranos recast his Cloak, and the disguised pair followed the Master Merchant back to the front of the Guild.  Aranos noted more than one set of eyes following them as they walked and hoped those gazes were just speculative; technically, he wouldn’t know if someone penetrated his disguise, so if one of the merchants had a high enough Perception to spot the real Aranos…  He shook off that thought.  There was nothing he could do about it if that were the case, so there wasn’t any point to worrying about it.  

As the old merchant lifted the counter and opened the gate for them, he looked Aranos squarely in the eye.  “There’s no need to hurry on those documents,” he told the Sorcerer in a friendly tone.  “Once you’re done with what you were telling me, you can get the papers to me.  Until then, good luck – and I look forward to working with you.”

The old man vanished amidst a fury of whispers.  “What was that?” a voice spoke.  Aranos glanced over to see Finn staring, his face astonished.  “Was – was Master Merchant Warren being… friendly with you?”

Aranos chuckled.  “He liked my proposal,” he shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter.  The Master Merchant’s never friendly!”

“Maybe he’s just good at hiding it,” Geltheriel suggested lightly before taking Aranos’ arm affectionately. “Come on, Oran, we should head to the Black Blade, next.”

As they stepped out into the Square, Aranos gave the woman a sideways glance.  What’s with the sudden affection? he asked her silently.  And why lie about where we’re going?

Because we were being watched very carefully, Oathbinder, she said simply.  I believe the woman behind the counter is more perceptive than she is appearing to be, and her interest in us was growing.  As we are playing the part of lovers in this city, I thought it best to keep up that charade.  And as for my deception, it can do no harm for the woman to think we are traveling somewhere we are not.  Do not forget that the thieves may still seek us, and if so, they will likely have offered a reward for information by this point.

Aranos grimaced.  He hadn’t forgotten, exactly, but he hadn’t really been thinking about it.  Good point, he sighed silently.  After we’re done here, maybe we should just head back out right away.  I think I’ve only got two more places to visit in the city.  I was thinking about heading to Eredain next, but we could also travel to the Dwarven Realm of Skollheld Heill…although I don’t know if they’d let you in there, to be honest.

As I am your Follower, it is likely they will, she said matter-of-factly.  In fact, had we not been maintaining the image of lovers in this city, I would have revealed our connection at the College, and they would almost certainly have allowed me to join you.

Really? he asked curiously.  Why would they do that?

An Oathbound Follower is considered to be a part of their Oathbinder, she explained.  If they trust you to enter, they must trust me, as I cannot help but act in your best interests and wishes.  That is part of my Oath, and that means that I am no more dangerous than a blade you carry at your side. 

Meaning, he realized, that she was only dangerous to his enemies.  Any place that welcomed him but not her might be a bit suspect.  That’s actually a huge relief, he told her silently.  I feel better whenever you’re around, to be honest.

That is perhaps one of the nicer things you have said to me, Oathbinder, and if you continue in that vein, I will surely blush.  However, we should do what we must and leave this city as quickly as possible.  When you are being hunted, remaining in your hunter’s territory is usually a bad idea.  Unless, of course, you wish to lure them into a trap of your making.  Are we prepared to do such?

No, he shook his head.  Let’s do what we have to and go.

Chapter 25

Portia’s shop had a handful of customers in it when Aranos arrived, and the counter was being manned by a young man the Sorcerer didn’t recognize.  “…Madigar family wishes to enter into an exclusive arrangement with you,” a rather pompous sounding man with graying hair and dressed in a fine doublet and hose was saying, standing before the counter and literally looking down his nose at the clerk.  “Have your Master come out at once.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s busy right now,” the clerk bowed his head apologetically.  “I can let her know that you were here…”

“You said that yesterday, and yet she never appeared at our trading house as I requested,” the older man cut the clerk off.  “The Madigar family is powerful, with many contacts.  If your Master doesn’t deal with us, then she may find her life in Stoneleague far more – difficult than it need be.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Aranos observed, walking over to the counter, his voice flat.  “Is that a threat?”

“I don’t know who you are,” the man snorted dismissively, “but the Madigars do not make threats.  They simply observe the realities of any given situation.  Now, kindly find somewhere else to be, as I’m in the middle of important…”

The man’s voice cut off as Aranos wrapped him in Void Paralysis.  “You really need to stop talking,” the Sorcerer said calmly.  He looked over at the clerk.  “Can you please tell Portia that Oran is here?  I’d like her opinion on how to deal with this insufferable man.”

“Oran?” the clerk repeated, bowing his head.  “Y-yes sir!  I’ll get her right away!”  The man disappeared into the back, and Aranos turned back to face the trapped man, whose face was a mixture of terror and fury.

“That’s who I am, by the way,” he smiled at the obnoxious man.  “Oran, Master of Elements.”  The man’s eyes went wider, and Aranos chuckled.  “Yep.  That one, the guy who cleared the southern Trade Road for the Merchants’ Guild.  I’m also part-owner of this shop, and your attitude is simply unacceptable.”

“Oran,” Portia’s voice rang cheerily through the shop as she exited her workshop, wiping her hands on a brown-stained cloth.  “I was hoping to see…”  She froze, and her eyes narrowed as she saw the trapped man.  “What’s this asshole doing back?” she growled.  “And what the hell’s wrong with him?”

“He was being rude, so I stopped him before he could say anything he’d really regret,” Aranos supplied with a chuckle.  He turned to the man.  “I’m going to let you go, now, but if you start talking down to everyone again, I’ll keep you in that Spell and have you delivered to this – what was the family’s name?”

“Madigar,” Geltheriel supplied helpfully.

“Right, this Madigar family trussed up like a turkey.”  He cancelled the Spell, and the man near fell as he was released.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Aranos raised a hand, and his lips clamped shut.  “Good.  Now, what’s going on, here?”

“This idiot claims to represent the Madigar family,” Portia growled.  “They’re a fairly large merchant family in the city – not the biggest, but big enough.  He came in here yesterday morning demanding we close the shop and that I go visit his family.  I was busy, so he insisted I stop by later.  Said the Madigars wanted to fund my shop in return for being able to exclusively buy and resell my wares.  Obviously, I wasn’t interested, so I sent them a note to that end.”

“It wasn’t a request,” the older man said crisply.  “The Madigars have graciously offered to fund you, and to buy your goods…”

“For 10% above cost?” Portia scoffed.  “No thanks.”  She turned to Aranos.  “This is what the Madigars are known for.  They force smaller crafters to accept their funding, and the crafters become little more than servants to the merchants.  Anyone who disagrees tends to find their shop burned down or their goods mysteriously stolen.”

“Accidents sometimes happen…”  The man’s voice fell silent as Aranos slapped another Void Paralysis on him. 

“I get it,” he nodded at the leatherworker.  He turned to the officious man.  “You’re going to take a message to the Madigars.  You’re going to tell them that Portia here already has an exclusive arrangement with a House – which is true – and that I’m her partner.  If they do anything to try and make her life miserable, I’ll respond in kind, and I’ll start with the highest-ranking members of their family first. 

“That’s the stick,” he continued.  “Here’s the carrot.  If, on the other hand, they want to meet with us in good faith and work out a deal where they can make bulk purchases at a slight discount, we’ll be happy to do so under the arbitration of Master Merchant Warren, who’s something of a friend of mine.  So, they can choose between a fair deal, no deal, or losing several prominent family members.  Got that?”

He released the man, who opened his mouth again but froze when Geltheriel’s sword touched his throat.  “We can simply hire a messenger to tell the Madigars our decision,” she reminded the man softly.  “Insult anyone here, and your head will be part of the message.”

The man swallowed, inclined his head – very carefully – then turned and walked out of the shop.  Aranos watched until he disappeared in the crowd and shook his head. 

“We should talk,” Portia grunted, beckoning to Aranos to follow her into the back.  She glanced at the young clerk.  “Nice work, Collin.  You were very polite.”

“Thank you, Master Portia,” the man bowed his head before returning his focus to the remaining customers.

Aranos followed the woman into the back room, breathing shallowly as they passed through a leather curtain and the stench of the leatherworking tables hit his nostrils.  His face must have reflected his discomfort, since Portia snorted.  “Yeah, it does stink back here.  I don’t even notice it anymore, though.”  She sighed and shook her head.  “Those Madigars are going to be a problem, Oran.  I don’t know if threatening them was the best way to go.”

“Well, I was hoping that giving them the offer of making a deal would convince them that it wasn’t worth the trouble to harass you,” he frowned.

“They aren’t interested in a deal.  They want to own me and this business, and they won’t accept anything less.  Now, they might think I’m a real threat…”

Aranos sighed.  “Then we have to make you a real threat,” he said firmly.  “Can you tell me where their estates are?”

“High Quarter,” she shrugged.  “I wouldn’t know beyond that.  You could hire a guide to take you, but I’m sure the place is guarded – and probably warded with Spells.  The Madigars have a lot of money, and that can buy a lot of protection.”

“They won’t do anything right away,” Geltheriel shook her head.  “They’ll watch for signs of this mysterious House backing you, first.  Oran might have been lying, but he might not, and if a powerful House got to you first, they’d be going to war over a shop that isn’t worth the lost resources.”

“That’s true,” Portia mused.  “Might give me a few days before I have to deal with them, if nothing else.”  She shook her head.  “Or give you a few days to deal with them, I suppose.  Although, I’m going to need more Rare and Exotic hides if they’re going to believe that I’ve got a big merchant house backing me.”

“How about some tigroon furs?” he asked, pulling out the six hides.  “I’ve also got a bunch more amarok, kondilaya, anisi, and even another ursusz hide for you.” 

“I’ll take it all,” she grinned.  “That dragonelle hide you gave me is what started this.  A rep from one of the big families showed up and bought the first cuirass I’d made from it, paid 3 gold links for the thing.  I guess word got out that I’ve got rare hides for armor and items, because business has been steady since then.”

“Good,” Aranos laughed.  “I’ll have to keep bringing you more hides, then.”

“Do that.  And Oran?  Watch your back.  Word on the street is the Madigars have some – unsavory connections.”

“I watch his back,” Geltheriel assured the woman.  “And I guarantee no one will get to him while I’m around.”

“Well, I can help you a bit, there,” Portia smiled, opening a cabinet and pulling out a wrapped bundle.  She offered it to Aranos.  “This is for you,” she told him.  “As a way of saying thanks for taking a chance on me.”

“You don’t need to give me anything,” Aranos demurred.  “You’ll pay me back by keeping up the good work.”

“But I want you to have this,” she insisted.  “There are two reasons.  First, you don’t have anything like it, and you could use it.  Second, if you wear it, people might ask about it – and you can tell them you got it here.”

Aranos sighed.  “Okay, okay.  Let’s see what we’ve got, here.”  He unwrapped the soft cloth and unfolded a large, voluminous cloak covered with black, matte scales.  “What is this?” he asked, peering at it closely.  Instantly, his Appraise Skill kicked in:

Appraisal Successful!

(Success automatic as this was a gift)
You have discovered: Oroloke Cloak

This cloak is fashioned of oroloke scales and lined with ursusz fur.  It’s been treated to make it soft and enameled to keep the glimmering scales from revealing the wearer in Stealth.

Rarity: Exceptional
Quality: Masterwork
Benefits: Stealth +25%, Cold Resistance +25%, Magic Resistance +25%, Defense +100

Aranos whistled.  “Holy heck, Portia,” he murmured.  “This is amazing work.”

“It’s one of the best things I’ve ever made,” she agreed.  “And if you can get it Enchanted, it’ll be even better.  I seriously recommend you do that.”

“You should be selling this,” he told her.  “It’s gotta be worth a small fortune…”

“It is, but we’ll both make more if you’re out there, showing off my work,” she cut him off.  “So, put it on, and go show off to people so they come here.”

Aranos slung the cloak around his shoulders.  He expected it to be stiflingly hot, but it breathed reasonably well, and it moved easily with him.  I could Enchant the heck out of this thing, he realized.  And I could add an Enchanted brooch to hold it shut, as well.  This is amazing work!

“It looks good on you,” Portia told him, shoving him toward the door.  “Now go on, the two of you go show it off to people.  I’m serious; go to the Adventurers’ Guild and tell everyone how great it is.”

“I’ll do just that,” he assured her, walking out of the back room.  “And thank you!”

“You’ll thank me by bringing us more hides and more business!” she called.

Geltheriel chuckled as they left the leather shop.  “I like her,” the elf murmured, a grin on her face.

“I thought you might,” Aranos sighed. 

“You’ve got plenty of people who look up to you in admiration and even wonder.  You need people like her who’ll put you in your place and tell you when you’ve made a mistake.”

“Isn’t that what I have you for?” Aranos asked sarcastically.

“Well, yes, but now you have two of us.  One can never have too much humility, Oran.  At least, you can’t.”

They made their way to the Adventurers’ Guild, but when they stepped inside, Aranos was shocked at how crowded the building was.  Usually, there were a dozen or so players there during the day; it looked like there were three times that number in the bar area, and most of them looked really, really pissed.  He saw Marie moving among the players, trying desperately to keep order.  Everyone seemed to be crowded around a single spot, and Marie was pulling players away from that spot, her face showing her frustration.

“Everyone, calm down!” Marie shouted, her voice barely heard over the din.  “How are any of you going to…”

The entire bar fell silent as a massive bang filled the air, causing several players to clutch their ears.  The noise was painfully loud, and a few players stuck their fingers in their ears, wiggling them around, probably at least partially deafened by the sound.

Aranos stepped forward his hand still raised.  “What the heck’s going on here?” he demanded.  “Marie, do you need some help?”

“Only all that I can get,” the woman muttered.  Geltheriel strode forward and joined the woman, bodily pulling players out of the dogpile and hurling them behind her.  Unlike Marie, though, Geltheriel obviously had no concern for any damage she might cause to the players – or to the furnishings, Aranos realized with a wince as one particularly light person sailed through the air and crashed into and completely through a table.

The players were now pushing to get forward, and Aranos could see that this was about to turn ugly.  He raised his hand and released another thunderclap of sound, using his High Mastery Ability to gather ambient Sonic mana and force it into a single, sharp burst.  The players winced once more, and Aranos cast a Spatial Web, catching most of them in it and pinning them in place.

“Enough!” a voice roared, and the players who hadn’t been caught in Aranos’ Web flinched as Guildmaster Ryder strode into the room.  “What’s the meaning of this?  Marie, what’s going on?”

“These Travelers all just respawned here, Guildmaster,” the woman said irritably.  “Without weapons.  They said they were from Northmoor and were executed by some sort of demon.”

“Demon?” Ryder muttered.  “Okay, we can get to that in a minute.  Why are they all acting like animals?”

“Because they are animals!” a voice snapped from behind Marie and Geltheriel.  Aranos watched as a woman with a large nose and black hair held in an unkempt bun rose unsteadily to her feet.  “See if I ever do any of you a favor again!”

“Care to explain, Marie?” Ryder sighed.

“This woman – I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Marie said apologetically to the woman, who Aranos could now see was wearing heavy, elaborate armor with lots of levers, dials, and strange seams on it.

“Of course not.  When would you have had a chance?  I’m Arabella,” the woman said.

Aranos grinned.  “Any chance your last name is Miller?” he asked the woman.

“Why yes, it is, and thanks for getting the reference,” the woman smiled back at Aranos.  “And I have a lovely caterpillar.  Want to see?”

Aranos laughed.  “I’m good.  What’s going on?  I’m Oran, by the way.”

“Well, Oran, when we spawned back into the game this morning,” Arabella told him, “we all had a notification to see Queen Ysabelle.  We went, because if we didn’t, we’d get a Title called ‘Traitor of Northmoor’.”

Marie winced.  “That’s a nasty Title,” she told the woman.  “You’d be marked ‘kill on sight’ to every soldier and guard of the city and take a three-thousand-point penalty to reputation with any Human Kingdom friendly to Northmoor.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, but it sounded bad, so we went,” Arabella shrugged.  “I realized something was off when we were on our way, though.  The city was too quiet, for one thing, and the palace’s warding runes were all down.  So, I hid while everyone else marched into the palace.”

“Like we had a choice!” someone shouted.

“Obviously, you did, because I made that choice,” Arabella snapped back.  “Do you want to tell this?  Then shut up and let me!”  Aranos grinned; he was taking a liking to the woman. 

“Anyway,” Arabella continued, “I hid and followed as the guards pretty much arrested everyone, confiscated their weapons, and herded them into the throne room.  I used my spider drones…”

“You’re an Artificer?” Ryder asked curiously.

“Yep.  Level 9, in fact.  Anyway, I sent my drones to spy on the throne room.  I couldn’t hear anything, but I saw the Queen being held captive by this vampire woman.  She – the vampire, I mean – took everyone down this hidden staircase in the throne room and into a big room with a crystal.  It was glowing blue, I think.”

“It was green!” someone shouted.

“Okay, green, then,” Arabella shrugged.  “My drones don’t see colors that well.  In any case, the vampire had bitten the Queen and drained her, and she kept killing us play…I mean Travelers and letting the blood spill all over the crystal.  The blood was staining the crystal around the bottom – probably red, although I couldn’t tell.”

Ryder’s face had gone pale as the woman spoke, and Aranos felt a thrill of anxiety pass through him.  “That’s the city’s Heart, isn’t it Ryder?”

“It sounds like it,” the Guildmaster nodded his head.  “Any idea what this means?”

“Maybe,” Aranos hedged.  “Arabella, could you describe this vampire woman?  What did she look like?”

“She had black hair, really wavy, and long, black talons instead of fingernails.  Lots of veins showing in her skin, what little wasn’t covered by leather, that is.  She had big, fiery wings sticking out of her back, and a crown on her head.”

“It could be,” Geltheriel whispered softly, her eyes blazing.  “Oath…Oran, it could be.”

“It might,” he acknowledged.  “Anything else you can remember?”

“She swore a lot,” someone shouted.  “And I mean a lot, like every sentence or two.”

“She was evil,” another person said, their voice faint.  “I mean, she thought it was funny when she killed people.  She was literally rubbing the blood all over herself, like it was lotion.  She laughed when we struggled or tried to escape.”

Lily, Aranos thought grimly, sharing a look with Geltheriel.  The woman’s eyes blazed with fury, and her hand was clenched on her sword.

“Okay, we’ll need to report this,” the Guildmaster said at last.  He turned to the trapped players.  “None of that explains why you were all acting this way, though!” the man bellowed.

“She’s got our weapons!” a burly man in heavy armor complained, his limbs motionless.  “We were just trying to get them back!”

Ryder turned to Arabella, who nodded.  “I took a minute to grab everyone’s weapons and put them in my Storage Pack,” she confirmed.  She looked at the others.  “I thought they’d be grateful that I did, not that they’d tackle me and try to snatch the pack off my back, the ingrates!”

“Let me get this straight,” Ryder said, his voice deceptively soft.  “This woman recognized a trap when none of the rest of you did, braved it to get valuable intel, and was kind enough to bring your weapons back to you – and you all attacked her? ”  The man’s voice was a shout by the time he’d finished, and his anger was a palpable presence in the room.  Aranos felt it pushing on him, but it seemed the players were utterly overwhelmed by it.  Those that weren’t trapped in Aranos’ Web were literally hurled to the floor by the force of the Guildmaster’s displeasure, and Aranos saw more than one person with blood pouring from their ears or nose – probably those with lower Endurance, he reasoned.

“Release them, Oran,” the Guildmaster ordered, and Aranos silently complied.  “Now, listen here!  You have exactly three seconds to apologize to this woman – and mean a real apology – or I will slaughter the lot of you, right here and now, again and again until you learn some common courtesy!  AM I CLEAR?”   The man’s voice had become a roar, generating a wind that tumbled the players around the room.  Aranos felt it press against him but channeled the air past with his High Mastery; Geltheriel and Marie swayed but stayed upright.  Everyone else was tossed about like rag dolls.

Aranos stared at the man, stunned.  He hadn’t realized that the Guildmaster was powerful enough that just his anger could hurl people around like that – although he supposed he should have.  You probably don’t get to run something like an Adventurers’ Guild without being able to handle yourself, he thought with a silent grin.  Still, he made a mental note to stay on Ryder’s good side.

The players picked themselves up, muttering apologies, their eyes wide and fearful.  “Good,” Ryder grunted.  “Now, sit down, and Marie will help reunite you with your weapons.”  He glanced at the woman.  “Don’t take anything from them,” he said flatly.  “Kill the first one who acts up.  They’ll come back, and maybe it’ll be with better manners.”

“Happily, Guildmaster,” Marie purred, eyeing the players almost lovingly.  “Who wants to go first?”

Fortunately, no one said a word.

“With me, Oran,” Ryder grunted.  “Your lady friend, too.  We need to talk.”  Aranos followed the man as he led the pair past the lines of adventurers waiting for Quests and back into his office.  When they entered, he shut the door and touched a spot on it; Aranos felt a familiar pressure fill the room as a wave of mana rolled out. 

“There,” the Guildmaster said.  “We can talk privately.”  He sat down behind his desk and gestured for Aranos and Geltheriel to do the same.  Aranos complied, but Geltheriel remained standing.  Ryder looked at her curiously, and she shrugged.

“It’s my job to keep him safe,” she said.  “Even if I have no chance against you, I won’t be caught sitting down – and I’ll make you work for it.”

“An admirable attitude,” the man said approvingly.  “Fine, then.  Stand, elf.  See if I care.”

Aranos stared at the man as he realized what Ryder had just said, while the Guildmaster merely chuckled and shook his head.  “I tried to tell you that first day,” the Guildmaster said.  “Do you remember my name?”

“Ryder,” Aranos said slowly.

“ Eagle-eye Ryder,” the man corrected.  “My Perception is over 300, my friend.  I saw through your little disguise on the first day.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Aranos asked quietly.

“Not my business,” the man shrugged.  “If the Grand Liberator wants to slum it here in my Guild, who am I to judge?  Besides, you were doing good work.”

“Why were you surprised at my level, then?” Aranos pressed.  “If you knew who I was…”

“I didn’t know who you were, then.  I knew what you were, and that you were hiding it.  It seemed like a good call; high arcanes aren’t exactly common anymore, and having one in the city would generate a lot of attention – some of it probably unfriendly.”  He shifted in his chair.  “After you killed that dragonelle so quickly, though, I knew something was up, so I did some digging.  That’s where I was that next morning when Marie thought I was Hung Over.  It took half the day to find out that a high arcane had returned to Ka, and that he was the most infamous Traveler in the Realms of Light.” 

“Sorry for deceiving you,” Aranos said.  “My name is a bit too well known, and I’ve got some enemies – including some pretty high-up people.  Some of the rulers of the Realms of Light…”

“Pay tribute to the Darkness,” Ryder nodded.  Aranos’ shock must have shown on his face, as the man grinned.  “What?  You thought you were the first one to figure it out?  No, boy, I’ve known that for decades.”

“And you’re okay with it?” Aranos asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t say that.  In fact, I’ve fought tooth and nail against it.  One reason we face more attacks than all the nearby cities combined is that I refuse to bow to the Darkness, and neither does my Guild.  The King can send his guards out to die – all too often, sadly – but my adventurers work to keep them safe.  Our Quests are real ones that benefit the Light, not made-up ones designed to send people to their dooms.”  He shook his head.  “That’s why I never let any of my people take the dragonelle or tigroon Quests.  They were meant to be failed.  People were supposed to go out and die trying to complete them.” 

“I imagine the King was unhappy when the Quests were finished successfully, then,” Geltheriel observed.

“Scared to all get-out is more like it,” the Guildmaster laughed.  “Hugin isn’t an evil man; he’s in an evil situation.  He was glad that you completed the Quests and that no one else died, but he was worried about what that might bring down on the city.” 

He’s not an evil man, he’s in an evil situation, Aranos repeated silently.  That’s an insightful assessment. 

The man seemed to shake himself.  “That’s neither here nor there,” he waved his hand dismissively.  “You two know more about what’s going on in Northmoor, and I want to hear about it.”  He caught their surprised faces and snorted.  “Let me repeat.  Three hundred Perception.  Not much gets past me.  Spill.”

Aranos took a deep breath.  “I’m pretty sure that the woman in Northmoor is a Traveler named Lily,” he explained.  “She was one of the first Travelers in Ka, and she’s a powerful Summoner.”  Aranos’ lips twisted.  “She’s a lot more powerful, now, and I don’t think she’s just a Summoner anymore.  See, Lily embraced Corruption.  The other Travelers were right; she’s evil.  She thinks torture is fun and murder is therapeutic.  And in Antas, she finally Evolved into a new form.”

“We call that a Devolution,” Ryder corrected, leaning back in his chair.  “So, she went dark.  What did she become?”

“An undead.  Some sort of vampire, from the sound of it,” Aranos grimaced.  “She didn’t mean to go that route, because Antas was being controlled by a powerful undead creature called a qualintar…”

“That’s the Elvish word,” Ryder cut in.  “We call them Deathlords.  Powerful things – I’m guessing this one took control of her?”

“And the city of Antas,” Aranos agreed.  “So, when I killed it and Liberated the city, it freed Lily.  She fled, but she swore all sorts of vengeance on me.”

“Sounds like the two of you have a longer history than you’re letting on,” Ryder observed.  He waved his hand as if chasing away a fly.  “Makes no matter.  The point is, you know what she’s doing over there, don’t you?”

“She’s Corrupting the Heart,” Aranos nodded.  “It’s how Zoridos – the qualintar that controlled Antas – how he took over the city.  She must have learned how to do it from him.”

Ryder frowned.  “How many people does she need to complete it?”

Aranos shrugged helplessly.  “I have no idea,” he admitted.  “Could be a hundred.  Could be a thousand.  Antas had tens of thousands of souls trapped in the Tree-heart, but Zoridos wasn’t very good at magic, so he might have overdone it.  Lily is much better.”  He grimaced.  “She’s probably as good as me, in fact,” he admitted.

Ryder smacked a hand on the table.  “We’ll have to march on Northmoor, then,” he said decisively.  “I’ll send a message to the King; he won’t be able to ignore this.  I’ll chat with Brunhild down in Avendale – she’s Guildmaster there – and have her talk with High Lord Svend, the ruler there.  We’ll have two armies marching on Northmoor, and this Lily will be caught between them.”

“We should go face her, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel said fervently.  “We could reach her long before any armies could…”

“That’s a bad idea,” Ryder shook his head.  “Didn’t you hear what that Arabella said?  Lily’s got Queen Ysabelle under thrall somehow – I have no idea how, because the Queen’s a powerful Wizard – and she’s got the guards working for her.  How she did that, I don’t know, but we have to assume she’s got the whole city under her control.  If you two go there, by yourselves, you’ll probably be swarmed over in no time.”

Aranos’ eyes widened.  “Phil,” he murmured.  Seeing Ryder’s curious look, he explained.  “The rest of my party took the Quest to investigate the disappearances on the Trade Road.  I’m sure Lily was the cause of those – and they’re going to run right into her.”

Ryder grimaced.  “If you can get a message out to them, I’d warn them to turn back,” he said grimly.  “Otherwise – well, I guess they’ll be back here soon enough, anyway.”

Aranos sighed.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, rubbing his temples.  “In the meantime – I think you’re right.  Just the two of us going to face Lily isn’t smart, not if she has an army.”  He could feel the dissatisfaction radiating from Geltheriel, but he shook his head.  “No, there’s no point rushing off and getting killed, Geltheriel,” he said firmly in Elvish.  “That doesn’t mean we can’t be part of taking her down, though.”

“Agreed,” Ryder said in the same language, again surprising them both.  “I’m older than I look,” he shrugged.  “In any case, when the armies get close to Northmoor, there’ll be fighting, and your Lily will either come out to fight, or she’ll send out her forces and hide.  Either way, that’s when you two should strike.  You know her; you know what she’s capable of, and I’m betting you’ve beaten her before.”

“Many times,” Geltheriel said grimly. 

“Then you can do it again,” the Guildmaster finished, rising to his feet.  “Now go; I’m sure you have things to do, and I know that I do.  Make your plans; we’ll be moving down the High Roads, and once we get started, Northmoor will only be two days travel.  Then, you’ll have your chance to take care of this Lily.”

Phil slammed his shield into the onrushing ogrin, driving his SP into the bulwark as the massive creature tried to push him back.  The ogrin was larger and probably stronger than Phil, but the Paladin was empowered by his SP and only slid back an inch or so before halting the massive brute.  His blade flickered out, holy light coursing along the edge and cutting deep into the ogrin’s chest.  The monster roared, but Phil lashed out with his shield again, knocking the beast back and finishing it with a thrust to its eye. 

Beside him, Hector roared savagely, goading the kerruks at the rear of the formation to rush forward and join the melee.  None of them made it to the front lines; clear of their shimmering magical barrier, they quickly fell prey to the bolts and arrows Martina and Longfellow rained upon them.  “Here come the dabruks!” Martina shouted, her hand blurring as she loosed arrow after arrow.  “Shield wall!”

Hector grunted and thrust his round shield forward.  Jeff – Aranos, Phil corrected quickly – had done something to Phil that closed off his mana channels, preventing him from ever using his SP, but the Sorcerer had also routed that SP into Hector’s Stamina pool.  A side effect of that was that Hector could now perform feats that were nearly magical using nothing but Stamina – such as his Shield Wall Ability.  The tank’s shield suddenly began to pulse with a strange energy, one that rippled out before the party.  It looked like nothing more than a heat disturbance in the air, but when the charging dabruks smashed into it, they bounced off and crashed to the earth. 

Phil once again charged his blade and stepped forward as Hector’s barrier faded.  As a Spellsword, he could cast a limited number of Spells with his admittedly small SP pool, most of them dealing with combat.  As a Paladin, though, Phil didn’t cast Spells; he simply willed his mana into the effect he wanted, and it happened.  He had a lot fewer Spells than he’d had as a Spellsword, but the effects were far more powerful.  His Holy Blade, for example, allowed him to add a modifier based on his Wisdom to his damage, and armor and magical shielding was only 50% effective at blocking it.  Best of all, the damage was increased against the Shadowborn so long as Phil was following his Paladin tenets – as he was now.

Duty drove him, and it was his duty to carve through these attackers and find out what had happened to those lost patrols.  He’d accepted this Quest; now, he had to see it through, no matter how difficult it might be.

And it had been difficult.  Ever since they’d logged back in, the party had faced a nearly nonstop battle against the urukkai.  At their levels, uruks, dabruks, and kerruks weren’t particularly dangerous, but when they crashed against the party non-stop – well, if Meridian hadn’t been there to heal them all, they’d have gone back to respawn a long time ago. 

But they’d persevered, and Phil wasn’t about to quit now.  His blade sang and flashed as he led the party forward, using his Energizing Presence Ability to banish their exhaustion, fears, and pain.  It was the first Ability he’d unlocked from his Class, the one that had kept the party fighting against Zoridos because they had to; Aranos was counting on them.  So long as they were following their duty, Phil could banish their small pains and cares.

An arrow zipped past him, slamming into the last of the ogrins and piercing its eye.  The creature bellowed, and Phil and Hector both charged it at once, their weapons flashing as they cut it down.  The huge monster’s fists flailed about, sliding off Hector’s shield and bouncing off Phil’s empowered one.  The tanks held it while Martina and Longfellow brought it down, until finally, it crashed to the earth, a crossbow bolt buried in its throat.

Phil lowered his shield and dropped his Presence to conserve SP.  “Well, that was fun,” he grinned at Hector.

“You have a strange idea of fun, brother,” the shorter man chuckled.  “But then, so do I.  That was pretty fun.”

“If you two are done stroking each other’s…egos,” Martina called out, “we should probably figure out what we’re going to do.”

“What do you mean, ‘what we’re going to do’?” Longfellow asked, walking over to the fallen creatures and reclaiming as many of his bolts as were salvageable.  “We’re going to keep kicking monster arse, is what we’re going to do!”

Martina shook her head.  “We’ve faced three attacks an hour all day long,” she told them.  “While we’ve been handling them, they’re getting harder – and we’re not getting enough downtime to fully recover after each battle.”

“We’ve done okay,” Hector shrugged.  “My Stamina will be topped up in a few minutes.  Your mana, Phil?”

“Ten minutes to full,” the Paladin said heavily.  “I won’t be back before the next wave hits us.”

“Me neither,” Meridian agreed.  “I’m not complaining, but ya’ll might want to try getting hurt just a bit less, you know?”

“I never thought about that,” Hector said, stroking his chin.  “That’s not a bad idea, honey.  See, I knew you were more than just a pretty face!”

“Yes, there’s definitely more to admire than just that,” Longfellow agreed.  “There’s also her lovely – healing abilities,” he finished hastily as the woman grabbed the hammer at her belt.  “What else would I be talking about?”

“Okay, okay,” Martina laughed.  “I’m serious, people.  At this rate, Phil and Meridian will start running low on SP in another hour or two.  I’m doing what I can to try to let them conserve it…”

“And you’re doing a good job,” Phil spoke up sincerely.  It was true; it was as if the Martina of old who snapped at every setback and got rattled under pressure had vanished.  The woman had made competent plans, carried her share of the load, and tried to maximize everyone’s resources.  Phil had to admit that she turned out to be a decent Party Leader.  Not as good as Jeff, but better than most of the people Phil had worked with.

“Thanks, and I’ll give you the copper I promised you for saying that later,” she grinned at him.  “The thing is, if either of them fall, we’re looking at a possible wipe.  I need ideas.”

“We could leave the Trade Road,” Longfellow offered.  “Travel beside it through the forests.  The buggers seem to mostly be guarding the Road.”

“It’ll slow us way down,” Hector pointed out.  “You and Martina are the only ones who can move through the forests easily.  The rest of us will have our movement rate cut in half.”

“We could turn back,” Meridian shrugged.  “Go get Aranos and the others and try again.”

“That’s probably the smart move,” Martina admitted. 

“It probably is,” Phil agreed.  “Thing is – I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Martina asked.  “Why not?”

“Paladin thing,” he shrugged.  “My duty is to keep going forward.  I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Hector made a disgusted sound.  “See, this is why I never play a pally,” he told the others.  “Sure, they’ve got all those cool abilities and stuff, but all that righteous nobility?  They can keep it.” 

“You guys can go back,” Phil told them.  “I’ll meet you back in Stoneleague when I respawn.  It’s fine.”

“No,” Martina said quietly.  “No one gets left behind.  If you have to go, Phil, then we’re with you.  Right, guys?”  The others murmured their agreement, and Hector responded with a loud, “Oo-ah!”

“You sure?” Phil asked.

“Yep,” Martina said firmly.  “You didn’t leave me, Phil.  I’m not leaving you.”  She glanced at the others. “There’s one possibility,” she said slowly.  “We could take the High Road.”

“The High Road?” Meridian repeated.  “Honey, if the Trade Road’s this bad, what will the High Road be like?  We’d just be committing suicide!”

“Maybe,” Martina agreed.  “But it’ll be a faster death than this thousand-cuts thing we’re doing now.  Plus…I don’t think it will be.”

“What do you mean?” Hector asked.

“Well, when Hector and I took the High Road to Antas, we faced these urukkai there, right?”

“Yeah, so did we,” Phil agreed.

“But when we came back this way, we hardly saw any of them,” Martina continued.  “I heard Aranos muttering about it, wondering where the urukkai had gone.  At first, I thought he was just begging for trouble…”

“He does tend to do that,” Phil laughed.

“But now I think he was right.  I don’t think we saw any urukkai on the High Road – because they’re all here, on the Trade Road, cutting off Northmoor and Stoneleague.  I’ll bet the High Road is wide open right now…or, at least, as open as it ever gets.”

“She makes sense,” Longfellow observed.  “I mean, if all these bloody urukkai are here, they had to come from somewhere, right?”

“Unless the game just spawned them here,” Hector pointed out. 

“Nah, mate, I don’t think it works like that.  Everything here happens organically.  I’ll bet these urukkai mate and give birth to tiny, little, disgusting baby urukkai just the way normal people do.  You know, except with disgusting baby humans instead.”

“If that’s true, then more of them here should mean less of them somewhere else,” Meridian spoke up.  “Heck, the lady’s got my vote.  I say we head for the High Roads.” 

“One way’s as good as another,” Hector shrugged.  “I’m just a grunt.  Point me the way, and I’ll march.”

“Phil?” Martina asked the Paladin, her voice strangely vulnerable.  “What do you think?”

She really wants my opinion, he realized.  But she’s worried that I’ll disagree with her and convince everyone she’s wrong.  Something happened to her – something rattled her confidence.  The easiest thing to do would be to just say yes.  The best thing to do, though…is my duty.

“I’m not convinced,” he admitted.  “Let’s face it, the logic is shaky.  For all we know, there could be a thousand of the urukkai around here, and we’re only seeing a fraction of them.”  Martina’s face was stricken, but Phil continued.

“Still, I wasn’t convinced when Aranos told us to attack Zoridos,” he told her.  “I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he was our leader.”  He looked her right in the eye.  “You’re our leader.  I gave you my opinion, but whatever you decide, I’ll back your play, 100%.”

“And what if I’m wrong?” she asked in a soft voice.  “What if you’re right, and the High Road’s even worse?”

“Then we learned something.  That’s how we learn, right?  We try, we make mistakes, and we do better the next time.  If you’re wrong?”  He shrugged.  “We respawn, gather the others, and try a different way.  No big deal.”  He grinned at her.  “So, what’s it going to be, fearless leader?”

She bit her lip, but she flashed him a grateful look.  “Let’s head for the High Road,” she decided.  “One way or the other, it’ll get us back home faster.” 

As they walked off the Trade Road, heading north, Hector clapped his hand on Phil’s shoulder.  “And that, my brother,” he said softly, “is how you become a good XO.  Well done.”

Chapter 26

The mountain wind bit at the party as they trudged along a barely visible path that wound up the side of the granite peak and into the snowpack above.  Aranos, Avalyn, and the elves wrapped themselves in their cloaks and moved swiftly despite the ice and wind.  Fortunately, Aranos thought grimly, it’s just cold.  It’s not actually snowing.  You know, yet.

He’d been torn between visiting the dwarves and returning to Eredain, but he’d decided to head to Skollheld Heill for two reasons.  First, he was hoping to get a blueprint for some sort of advanced dwarven smithy, and if that happened, it made more sense to come here first, then head back to Eredain and give Lorsan all the blueprints at once. 

The second reason was that he was hoping to figure out how to make a portal arch, not just open a regular portal.  An arch would allow anyone to use it – and, if he could figure out how, it was something that might be able to be opened permanently.  If he could learn how to build one from the dwarves, he could create a system that would link Eredain, the Skollheld, and Stoneleague all to Antas.  His city really could be the center of the Realms of Light again. 

He’d informed Silma of his decision, and he and Geltheriel met the others outside the city, where opening a portal was easier.  “I admit to being unsure why I must join you, Liberator,” the Druid had told him with just a touch of complaint.  “One might point out that the dwarves will likely not allow me to join you in their mountain holds.”

“One might, but one might also point out that if Geltheriel and I travel to a whole new region without you and Silma, it’ll dissolve the party,” Aranos pointed out.  “And that will be the end of the Ascendants.  We’ll lose our party Perks and reputation.”

“I had not considered that,” Rhys admitted with a frown.  “I would not wish that to happen.  I will be happy to join you, Liberator.”  He glanced at Miwango, who was now almost a foot long, having eaten well that day on Silma and Glorferdir’s scraps.  “And perhaps, if what the Priestess told you of their culture is true, my Bond with Miwango will gain me entry, as well.”

“Worth a shot,” Aranos grinned.  “If not, you can hunt the forests of the Skollheld as well as you can the ones here, right?”

“True.  Forgive my doubt, Liberator.  Lead, and I will follow.”

The glyphstone Rardrobena had given Aranos acted as an excellent portal anchor.  Unfortunately, it seemed that the mountain the Skollheld’s entrance was located on was warded heavily against Dimensional magic, so the closest they could get was a valley at the base of the peak.  That was fine; Aranos could easily see the tracks left by the passing dwarves and could tell that most of them were spread all throughout the mountain – and down below it some distance, as well.  He’d led Geltheriel up the slope eagerly, assuming that the entrance to the dwarven halls would be somewhere close to the base. 

That hope was dashed after an hour of climbing – and a brief chat with the elves.  “I do not claim to know much of such things, Oathbinder,” the woman had shrugged.

“Nor I,” Rhys agreed. 

“Well, if it was me,” Avalyn spoke up hesitantly, “I’d probably start near the top and dig my way down, rather than starting in the middle and trying to dig up and down at the same time.  That makes sense, right?”

“It does,” Aranos smiled at the young woman, huddled in her cloak and struggling to haul her bag up the mountain.  She’d been unhappy but hadn’t complained when he came and got her from the College or when he’d told her they were going to see the dwarves, but he could tell that she wanted to protest the hike they were undertaking.  Whenever she did, though, she glanced at Geltheriel, bit her lip, and remained silent.

They continued their trek up the mountain in relative quiet after that.  Silma and Glorferdir ranged ahead, their coats protecting them from the chill wind.  Miwango seemed to be enjoying the breeze despite his reptilian nature, climbing atop Rhys’ head and stretching his slender neck up to expose himself to the cold.  Although, I guess it’s not really a lizard, is it?  It’s some cousin to dragons, and for all I know, it’s warm blooded.  Maybe this is refreshing to the little guy.

The path wound around the mountain, ending at last in front of what looked like a sheer wall of ice-covered stone.  Aranos’ Perception showed him the tiny, almost imperceptible lines in the rock that told him there was a door here.  He raised a fist and pounded on the stone.  “Hello?” he shouted.  “Hey in there!  Is this Skollheld Heill?”

The stone stood, unmoving, as stones tended to do.

Aranos’ mouth twisted.  There was probably no point to pounding on the stone.  It felt solid; that meant no one behind it could probably hear a thing outside.  At the same time, he was certain the dwarves would post a watch on their front door, so it was likely that they knew he was here – and were ignoring him.

Aranos felt his irritation rise, but he tamped it down.  There was no point in getting angry.  He just needed to figure out a way to get their attention.  He was certain he could bring the door down – it was just stone, which was solidified Earth mana, and unless it was several feet thick, he could move it with his High Mastery Ability.  That probably wasn’t the best idea, though; it would be the same, more or less, as someone trying to get his attention by kicking down the gates of Antas.  He’d give them attention, all right, but probably not the kind they wanted.

“Oathbinder, I would like to point out that while we stand here, the wind grows colder, and by nightfall, it will be well below freezing,” Geltheriel pointed out, clutching her cloak around her.  “If we cannot gain entry, perhaps we should return to the valley below and try once more in the morning.”

“What she said,” Avalyn muttered sourly.

“I’m working on it,” he grunted.  “It’s not like I can just say ‘friend’ and have it open.”  He paused, half-hoping that would work, then sighed.  Gandalf I ain’t, he thought silently.  Well, Rardrobena did give me that glyphstone and said it would gain me access.  Maybe I have to show it to whoever’s watching.

He pulled out the octagonal stone and held it up overhead.  “Rardrobena gave me this,” he called out.  “I’m just looking to talk!” 

The stone remained as stonelike as ever.

As Aranos lowered the glyphstone, though, he felt a flash of brief warmth run through it.  Curious, he raised it back up and once again felt a flash of heat warm the stone.  Maybe it’s literally supposed to grant me entry, he thought, lowering the stone slowly until he felt it heat once more, then freezing it in place.  He lowered it several inches, and the warmth vanished.  He raised it back up, and the stone heated once more.

Grinning, he moved the stone slowly toward the door; as he did, though, the heat faded again.  He frowned.  I was sure that was it.  He brought it away from the door, and it slowly warmed back up.  He moved it closer, and the heat dissipated quickly.

Okay, stop and think about this, he told himself as he felt his aggravation rising.  This is a puzzle.  I have to figure out where on the door the glyphstone goes.  I know that it warms at a certain height, and I’m assuming that means I’m at the right height…   He nearly swore at his own stupidity.  But am I at the right place horizontally?

He moved the stone to the left, and instantly, the heat disappeared once more.  He moved it back to the right, and the heat returned, growing more intense this time.  When the heat began to fade, he moved it back to the left, until he was certain he had the stone centered horizontally.  He played with it a bit, moving it around until it was as hot as possible, then slowly moved it inward.  As he did, he had to keep adjusting it, as the closer he got, the harder it was to keep it on target.  Finally, the glyphstone touched the rock, radiating heat into the chill air.

The rock seemed particularly unimpressed. 

Aranos resisted an urge to scream and hurl the glyphstone down the mountain; that certainly wouldn’t do any good.  Instead, he forced himself to remain calm, allowing his thoughts to relax and consider the problem. 

I’m pretty sure I’m in the right spot, he thought silently.  I mean, it’s the only hot spot I found on the door – not that I was looking very hard.  I suppose there could be others, but if there were, how would I know which one to use?  I’m pretty sure Rardrobena would have told me about something like that.  So, right spot…what am I doing wrong?

He had no idea.  He’d moved it in all three dimensions.  He’d pushed it, pulled it, lifted it, lowered it, twisted it…

Actually, I haven’t done that, he realized. I haven’t tried turning it.  You know, the way I would any other doorknob.  It couldn’t be something as simple as that, could it?

Apparently, it could.  He turned the stone gently to the right and heard a loud click.  He stepped back, and as he did, the stone sunk into the mountainside, lowering itself down like an inward-facing drawbridge.  The resulting archway was large enough for them to pass through two at a time, but no more than that.

“Well done, Liberator,” Rhys told him softly.  “Now, do we wait for the dwarves to come to us, or do we go to them?”

“Neither, human,” a gravelly voice growled from the darkness.  “You stay there and don’t move while explaining to us how you found our back door, much less opened it.”

A breeze blew past the cave mouth and swirled into Aranos’ nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, picking up the scent of four dwarves nearby – and a vast number deeper in the tunnel.  “We Tracked your footsteps up the mountain to here,” he called out, lifting up the glyphstone.  “And I opened it with this.”

One of the dwarves snorted.  “A human Tracked dwarves through the mountains?” he scoffed.  “Lies!  And you stole a glyphstone?  Human, you’re going to pay for that in blood and pain!”

Aranos sighed.  “Look, if this is anything like my last encounter with your people, then I know you’re just blustering to give the Priestess behind you a chance to decide what to do.  Can we maybe skip the threats and let me talk with her?”

“You seem to know a bit of our ways, human,” the first voice spoke in a growl.  “Did you interrogate the one you stole that from?  Torture her?”

“Actually, Rardrobena gave it to me in exchange for providing her with oroloke – I mean, smarsolm eggs,” he shrugged.  “I learned a bit about your people from that encounter.”

“Wait – smarsolm eggs?” a third voice spoke up, this one far less confrontational.  “That was you?  Everyone, step back.  Let me speak with the human.”  Aranos heard some grumbling, but a moment later a short, broad woman with flame-red hair and full plate armor stepped out of the cave and into view.

“Every Priestess of the Stone heard Rardrobena’s tale, human,” the woman said, her hands on her hips and her feet spread wide.  “You did quite the service for our Skollheld.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he smiled.  “The name I’m using right now is Oran, Master of Elements.”

“Rulgribera Heill, Priestess of the Coldstone,” the woman inclined her head.  “And these others?”

“This is my Oathbound Follower,” Aranos gestured at Geltheriel.  “She’s currently using the name ‘Theria’.  The wolf is my Soulbound Companion, while the young leonal is named Glorferdir.  And this is my companion and party member – and the recipient of the one smarsolm egg I kept.  He’s calling himself Reece.”

“You gave a smarsolm egg to this one?” one of the male voices growled.  “Why would you waste an egg like that?”

“Because,” Rhys said without rancor, holding out his arm, “I could Bond with the young one.”  As he spoke, Miwango appeared from behind his back and crawled up the Druid’s arm to rest in his head, eyeing the cave mouth for a moment.  The turaloke opened its mouth in a hiss of warning before settling onto Rhys’ palm.

“A solmriddar?” the Priestess asked, her face impressed.  “Good for you, human.  Not many can Bond with something as fierce and powerful as a smarsolm…and unless I miss my guess, there’s something special about that one.” 

The woman eyed the group and grimaced.  “I can’t invite you into the Skollheld,” she said regretfully.  “Only a Priestess of the Deepstone can do that.  I can let you come in out of the cold, though, and take you somewhere you can wait for a Priestess to meet with you.”

“These are strangers, Rulgribera!” one of the male voices protested.  “You can’t bring them inside!  Clan law…”

“I know clan law far better than you do, Adrarlug, so shut your hole,” Rulgriberal snapped in a frosty tone, turning to face the cave mouth.  “This one did a service for the clan, and that entitles him to a hearing.  The other bound a smarsolm, and that means he might be a solmriddar; no solmriddar can be barred from entering any Skollheld.”

“Humans can’t be solmriddars,” Adrarlug protested.

“There’s no law that says that,” the Priestess countered.  “The law just says that anyone who bonds with a smarsolm is a solmriddar.”

“Because no one’s ever heard of a human Bonding with one,” the man pressed.

“And that’s why I’m inviting them in to wait for a Priestess of the Deepstone to judge if they deserve entry,” the woman agreed.  “Or are you suggesting that you should pass judgment instead of a Priestess, Adrarlug?”

Aranos heard the man gulp audibly.  “N-no, Priestess,” he stammered.  “I’m just trying to keep us all safe.”

“Yes, I know.”  The woman turned back to face the party.  “Follow me, but be warned: you’re guests here.  We expect you to be respectful and on your best behavior.”

“Of course, Priestess,” Aranos bowed his head.  “After you.”

“Of course, after me,” she snorted as she led the group into the cave.  “How else would you know where you’re going?”  She glanced back at the group.  “Do humans have Night Vision?”

“We all do,” Aranos assured her.

“Um,” Avalyn spoke up softly.  “Uh, I don’t, sorry.”

“Damn,” the dwarf frowned.  “It’s dark down here until you get into the Skollheld, and torches are a bad idea.  They make the air bad.”

“I can take care of it,” Aranos assured the woman, casting his Illuminating Mists Spell, lighting up the nearby passageway without blinding anyone.  “Will that work?”

The Priestess stood, blinking in the sudden glow.  “That was a fast Spell, Wizard,” she admitted a moment later.  “Do me a favor, warn me before you do anything like that again, okay?  My nerves aren’t that great, and I almost responded badly.”

“No problem,” Aranos nodded.

“Good.  Now, this way.”

They walked past three, scowling male dwarves, all armed with spears of various sizes and designs.  Probably a more useful weapon in tunnels like this than a sword or axe, Aranos realized.  Those three with those spears could pretty effectively block this doorway.  The men glared at him as he walked past, but Aranos shrugged it off.  So far, he hadn’t met a male dwarf that hadn’t seemed like they wanted to kill him.  He wondered if that was just normal for their species, or if it was a cultural thing – or if it was just a pose they affected around outsiders.

The door to the outside slid shut behind them silently, without the grating of stone on stone that Aranos was expecting.  The only light came from Aranos’ Spell, which bathed the tunnel walls in a dim, pale glow.  The tunnel they were in was obviously artificial.  The floor was perfectly flat but had an odd pattern of ridges and raised cross-hatching that probably improved traction.  The walls were far enough apart for four of them to walk side-by-side in, and the ceiling was a foot or so over Aranos’ head, low enough that he could reach up and touch it if he wanted.  Every surface except the floor was polished to an incredibly smooth finish that would probably act like a mirror if Aranos’ Spell produced a brighter light.  It was an amazing level of workmanship – but then, Aranos figured that underground-dwelling dwarves would probably be good at digging.

“You don’t have many Warriors guarding this entrance,” Geltheriel observed as they walked.  “Are you that confident that no one can find it, or do you have many hidden defenders within easy shouting distance?”

The Priestess glanced over at the elf woman with obvious respect.  “Both,” she admitted.  “Not many can Track a dwarf in the mountains, and the beasts that live topside aren’t smart enough to get through the door.  Plus…”  The woman reached out and touched a nearby wall as they passed, and Aranos noticed the fine lines outlining a well-hidden door.  “There’s a door here that leads to a guardroom with twenty more men ready to rush to defend the entrance if needed.”

“How do they hear an alarm, though?” Aranos asked curiously.  “I mean, that door was really tightly fit, and I assume it’s solid stone.  I wouldn’t think they could hear anything through that, even if someone was shouting.”

“We rely on the Stone,” the Priestess shrugged.  “Shouting down here is a bad idea; the echoes can linger for hours, and it makes it hard to hear anything at all.”

“So, you have magical communications set up,” Aranos translated.  “That’s smart.”

“We dwarves are nothing if not practical,” Rulgriberal chuckled.  “Not much in the Skollheld is done for vanity or the sake of art.  Why craft an elaborate, fancy suit of armor when we can craft three plain ones that are just as effective in the same amount of time?”

“Wouldn’t the fancier armor be able to hold more Enchantments?” Aranos asked curiously.

“Topsider Enchantments, maybe,” the dwarf said dismissively.  “Dwarven Enchantments are built right into our creations and don’t have those limitations.”

“I’d like to learn more about those,” Aranos said, trying to conceal his excitement.  “I’m pretty good with Enchanting and Runecrafting, but what you’re talking about sounds more like Faysmithing than regular Enchanting.”

“I don’t know what that is, but you’d have to speak to the Priestess of the Deepstone about that.  Speaking of which…”  She stopped and touched the wall, and a portion of it sank into the ground the way the stone blocking the entrance had.  Beyond it, Aranos’ Spell revealed a large, open space, with stone benches and even a flat, stone bed that looked like it was joined seamlessly to the floor.

“You can wait here,” she said.  “Sorry it’s not more comfortable, but we haven’t had guests in – well, not in my lifetime, I don’t think.  Not much point to keeping up cushions and blankets and such when there’s no one to use them, is there?”

“Not really, no,” Aranos laughed.  “It’s fine; any idea of how long it might be, though?”

“No clue,” she shrugged.  “As I said, this hasn’t happened before.  Might mean that the Priestesses will be anxious to see you and go quickly; might mean that they want to make sure you know your place and let you sit here for a while.  I could see it going either way.”

Aranos’ face twisted.  “Can you give us any advice for dealing with the Priestesses?” he asked.  “Anything I should do or shouldn’t do?  I don’t want to offend anybody.”

“That’s more an issue when dealing with males,” the woman said dismissively.  “We Priestesses are more pragmatic and less – aggressive, I suppose you could say.  We value honesty, practicality, and fairness above everything else.”  Her face twisted.  “At least, in theory.  In reality, well, things can be different.”  She ushered them inside and touched the doorframe.  “Good luck!” she said as the heavy door slid back into place.

“One might think that we’d just been trapped in here,” Rhys observed.  “That is, if one was a more suspicious sort.”

Aranos reached out to the door with his High Mastery Ability and found that it was simple if well-fashioned stone.  “I can get us out with no problem,” he shook his head.  “It’ll take about a minute to do it quietly, or ten seconds if I just want to blast through with Dust.  We’re fine.”

“Good,” Avalyn said a bit nervously, looking around at the walls.  “This place feels too small, and too tight.  I mean, what if we run out of air, or they leave us here for long enough for the Thirst debuff to set in?”

“There is air moving in the room, child,” Geltheriel pointed out.  “And a small spring of what looks like fresh water in the back.  Were they covered, the benches and bed would likely be comfortable.”  She shook her head.  “This strikes me as a guest room, a place where visitors could stay for an extended time that was not in the main fortress, rather than a prison cell.”

“Well, nothing to do but wait,” Aranos shrugged, sinking down onto the floor.  “I’m going to work on my Spells; I really want to get that messaging Spell finished, and maybe see about unlocking Invocation mana.  I’m hoping that will unlock Evocation without my needing to accidentally summon anything.  Avalyn, you might want to do the same.  You won’t feel so nervous while you’re Meditating.”

“O-okay,” the woman swallowed, sitting on the hard bed and closing her eyes.  A moment later, Aranos could feel energy radiating from her as she began to work on her Spells.  I wonder if I radiate the same way?

Rhys made a startled sound as Miwango suddenly leaped from his arm and rushed over to the smooth walls, sniffing at them.  Yummy, the little creature sent out to the others.  I’m hungry.

“He smells metal,” the Druid explained.  “He wants to eat it.  Do you think our hosts would be upset if their excellent walls were somewhat gnawed upon?”

“He can’t eat very much,” Aranos pointed out.  “And I can fix the damage after, don’t worry.  I’d let him go to town.”

“While I am unsure what a town has to do with it, I believe I understand the context,” Rhys chuckled.  “Very well, Miwango, feel free to indulge yourself.”  The small room was suddenly filled with a sound of grating stone as the little oroloke began to dig at the walls with its teeth.

“We have some stores of metal in the form of captured weapons and armor,” Geltheriel told Rhys.  “I doubt any would mind if you fed these to the little one.”

Rhys shook his head.  “He will not eat it,” he told the woman.  “Finished steel is currently too hard for him, and he prefers iron ore over wrought or cast iron.  There is something about the taste of finished metal that he does not like.”  Rhys shrugged.  “All infants are picky in their feeding habits.”

“So I am given to understand,” Geltheriel nodded.  “Fortunately, my firsthand knowledge of such is so limited as to be nonexistent.  I hope for it to remain so in the foreseeable future.”

Aranos tuned the others out and closed his eyes, activating his mana training regimen as he did in case they were waiting for a full hour.  Once the flow of mana and energy was set, he called up the vision for his messaging Spell.  He played through the Spell in his mind; the message formed into a sphere of Illusion mana about the size of a marble wrapped in Air mana so it could float and move.  A window opened in space, showing him his target, and a tiny portal formed in front of the message orb.  It swept through the portal, appearing directly in front of the intended recipient, then unfolded into a sort of holographic display of Aranos speaking the message. 

Aranos frowned.  It was a solid Spell, but it had a few flaws.  First, it would take quite a while to cast; both scrying and opening a portal were slow processes.  Second, it relied on the person to pay attention to the message.  If they weren’t watching and listening, they’d miss it.  Third, it was an Illusion Spell, so anyone with a high enough Perception would see through it and thus ignore it. 

I could use Mind mana, but then anyone with Mental Resistance might be able to ignore the message, he pondered silently. Do I really need the image, though?  In fact, do I need the portal at all?  With my new Remote Casting Ability, couldn’t I just cast a Spell that used Illusion mana to make the sound of my voice appear to anyone I wanted?  Or even just adapt my Mindlink Spell to work outside of a region through my Remote Casting?  That would be two-way communication, and the biggest speed limitation would be opening the scrying window…

He sighed as he realized that was a much better way to get the same effect.  He’d been working on his messaging Spell since almost the beginning of the game, and part of him really wanted to finish it.  But you haven’t, he reminded himself, probably because you started making it back when you had no idea what you were doing.  Now that you do – maybe it’s time to abandon an idea that isn’t working for one that’s simpler and probably faster.

He groaned and dropped the messaging vision.  It would still be there, waiting for him, but if he left it alone for long enough, it would decay and eventually fade.  That was a bit saddening, but he shook off the thought.  Growth could be painful, but it was necessary.  He had to move forward, not cling to the past, especially not when doing it wasn’t working.

He froze as that thought settled into his mind.  That’s right.  You do need to move forward.  You can’t hold onto the past – especially when doing that is hurting the people around you.  That was why his Charisma was drawing women to him and making Geltheriel so uncomfortable.  He was clinging to the past, hoping somehow to recapture what he’d so briefly experienced with Saphielle.

That won’t happen, though, he realized.  She’s gone, and there isn’t anyone else like her.  You’re just wishing for something that can never be, because part of you is clinging to what was.

He cleared his mind, then did something he hadn’t let himself do since Saphielle’s funeral.  He let himself remember.  He allowed all the images of her to flow through his mind, let himself feel them all at once.  The pain was intense, like a knife in his heart, as he remembered Saphielle – and grieved for his loss.  He held the pain to him, allowed it to build until it was nearly intolerable…and then let it go. 

The images still hung in his mind, but rather than pain, all he felt was a sense of loss and grief.  He’d always shoved those aside, but now he embraced those feelings, letting them rage through him.  He heard Geltheriel’s indrawn breath; Rhys let out a brief sob as Aranos’ Charisma touched them both, filling them with his pain and sorrow. 

The wave of emotion slowly receded as Aranos simply let himself feel.  He felt a sort of pressure ease in his chest, as if he were suddenly able to take a deep breath for the first time.  He liquid streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto his hands, resting folded in his lap, but he made no move to wipe the tears away.  For the first time, he accepted his loss.  She isn’t coming back, he said firmly.  And you won’t find anyone like her.  That’s okay, though.  It hurts, but it’s going to be okay.

Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath.  His head pounded, his chest ached, and his eyes felt swollen, but he felt – clean.  There had been a pressure building up inside him, and it had been leaking out, affecting everyone around him.  Now, that pressure was gone, and he felt nothing but a dull ache that he knew would fade in time. 

He opened his eyes and saw Geltheriel crouched before him.  Her face was as tearstained as he guessed his was, and he saw mingled pain and understanding in her eyes.  Without a word, he reached out to her, and she embraced him warmly.  They held each other that way, silently acknowledging their shared pain and loss, for some time.  Aranos didn’t need to tell her what had happened; she knew.  She didn’t need to tell him she understood; he knew. 

As he released her, he saw a pair of notifications pop up in his view, but he ignored them.  “Thanks, Geltheriel,” he said softly.

“I am your friend, Aranos,” she whispered back, using his name for one of the few times he could remember.  “I am always here for you.”

“I know,” he nodded.  “And I’m here for you, too.”

“You always have been, since the moment we met,” she smiled.  “It is the one truth on which I can rest assured, Oathbinder.”  She rose to her feet and wiped her face.

“However, I am unsure how any of this helps you to develop your Spells,” she chided him with a smile.  “Surely, you are not creating a Spell to invoke helpless sobbing in your foes?”

“If so, it seemed frighteningly effective,” Rhys spoke up, also wiping his eyes.  “The power of your emotions, Liberator – it can be overwhelming.”

“Sorry about that,” Aranos grimaced.  “I just – I realized what I needed to do to get my Charisma under control.”  He glanced at Geltheriel.  “Did it work?”

“It did,” she smiled gently.  “That call has vanished.  It is – far more comfortable.”

“Then it was worth it,” he sighed with relief.  “You’re right, though; I have a couple Spells to work on.  I won’t be Meditating, so I’ll hear if you call my name.”

“If not, I am sure I can rouse you with a swift and well-placed kick,” Geltheriel grinned at him.

“I’m wearing my armor, so feel free to break your foot trying to get my attention,” he snorted.  “Now, let me get this done.”

Adapting his Mindlink Spell to work on a target within sight range rather than by touch wasn’t really difficult at all.  He just had to imagine lashing out with a tendril of Mind mana, connecting it like a tether to his target and establishing a link between them and him.  The hard part was making it as mana-efficient as possible; using it remotely was going to crank the cost way up, and every SP he could save now would be 100 SP saved later.  He refined the mana tether to use the minimum amount of energy possible and halved the duration; with his bonuses, the previous version lasted for over a day, and he doubted he needed anywhere near that much time. 

When the Spell vision finally shivered into place, he hesitantly called up strands of Vital and Spirit mana, holding them in place without mingling them.  Okay, so first, before I play with this, I need to forge a couple of Warding circles.  Then, I need to cast Shield Mind on myself just to be safe; Invocation is supposed to channel extraplanar energy to you, not a thing, but if it goes wrong, I need to be able to resist any sort of mental manipulation.  Finally…I need to make sure there’s a shield around me and the Warding circles, just in case. 

It took him fifteen minutes to build his shields and two Warding circles, one around himself and one around a simple chunk of stone he’d pulled out of the floor, leaving a divot behind.  He knew from his efforts upgrading Meridian’s familiar spirit that he needed a focus if he wanted to call a specific type of spirit – in that case, since Meridian’s familiar had been a life sprite, he’d used a hunk of quartz imbued with Life magic – and he guessed that the same would be likely when dealing with Evocation and Invocation magic.  Hopefully, if he used simple, abundantly rare stone, he wouldn’t draw much power or accidentally call anything dangerous. 

He began to weave strands of Vital and Soul mana together, forming them into a spiraling lattice that wound toward the chunk of stone, almost like a drill-shaped cone ready to bore into the rock.  He very gradually added Spirit mana – and watched as the mana slipped right through the weave and flashed into the air.  He tried again, tightening the strands a bit, but to no avail; the Spirit energy simply flashed through his construct, totally unimpeded.

He sighed.  It was always like this working with Spirit mana.  The Spirit aspect was the hardest one to control; it resisted all attempts to order or bind it.  It would follow a weave of some other type of mana, usually, but in this case…

He examined his construct more closely, trickling Spirit energy into it.  Huh.  I totally built this thing the wrong way .  In fact, the Spirit mana was following the construct he’d created.  At least, it was doing that until the strands curved around the outside of the construct, at which point the Spirit mana – didn’t seem to be able to make the turn.

He released the weave he’d made and tried something that was similar to the crystalline lattices he made when crafting faymetal.  He braided the strands of Soul and Vital mana and wound them in a series of inward-turning spirals, like a tower of twisted cones nestled within one another.  It took him a while to get the construct correct, but finally he watched as the flow of Spirit mana sank down into the stone, pulling the Vital mana with it – and allowing the Soul mana to lash backward, linking him to the stone.  He felt a flow of energy seep into him, filling him with a sense of heaviness and power, but he quickly cut that off and released the construct.  The moment he did, the odd feeling of heaviness seeped out of him at once, and he sighed in relief, pulling up his waiting notifications:

Stat Boost!
Through a Special Action, you have gained the following Stat increases:

Int +2
Wis +2
Cha +2

Perk Gained!
Perk: Enhanced Charisma
You have gained a deeper understanding of your Charisma and how it affects the world around you.

Effects: All level-dependent Charisma bonuses increased by +1 (retroactive).  Effective new Charisma: 218 (263)

Congratulations!
You have increased your Cha Stat to more than 200 points!  By surpassing this threshold, you have advanced this Stat to a new level and gain a bonus based on your playstyle:

Charisma-based Skills: Any Skill with an Ability, opposed check, or bonus based on your Charisma Stat treats your Charisma as 75% higher

Empowering Charisma: Choose one Stat.  This Stat will permanently be increased by 25% of your Charisma Stat (25%).  This doesn’t lower your Charisma, and as your Charisma Stat increases, this bonus will increase, as well.

Spell Upgraded!
Enhanced Mindlink^
Rank: Novice 7
Communicate telepathically with a friendly creature.

Effect: Choose one creature that is sentient and friendly to you in sight range.  You establish a mental link that allows you both to communicate telepathically across any distance for as long as the Spell lasts or until you choose to end it.  Communication is two-way and deliberate; neither party will hear any thoughts or feelings from the other unless they are directed at the linked partner.  Creatures may be limited in their ability to communicate by their Intelligence; a creature with low Intelligence might only be able to communicate the simplest emotions or concepts. 

Duration: 1 minute

Channeled Spell: This Spell may be Channeled in order to extend it past its duration, paying the normal SP costs as detailed in your Mana Mastery Skill.

Cost: 11 mind SP

Can you hear me?  Let me think a little louder…

Enhanced Aspect Discovered!
Aspect: Evocation
Evocation is an Enhanced Aspect that combines Nature (Vital) and Spirit mana.  It is used primarily to call extraplanar entities to this world.

Associated Stats: Str/End, Per

Requirements: Str or End 50+, Per 50+, Nature (Vital) and Spirit Aspects unlocked, Mana Manipulation Expert+.

Using Evocation Mana: Evocation Spells create a direct link between you and a creature from another plane.  To target a specific being, you must be familiar with the being, have interacted with them in a significant way, or possess a Master-ranked or higher Lore Skill that would give you knowledge of this being and know their name and attributes.  Otherwise, a random creature is called based on the focus used in the Spell (see below). 

Damage: You can only use Evocation SP equal to the sum of the higher of your Str or End Stats plus your Per Stat per hour without harm.  Exceeding this limit drains your Stats: you lose 1 point from the highest of these three Stats for every 1% of your max SP of additional Evocation mana you use.  This damage heals at a rate of 10% per hour of rest or meditation.

Evocation vs. Summoning: Unlike a Summoning Spell, a Spell of Evocation only calls a creature to the caster.  The caster has no control over the being (although other Spells may grant the caster such control).  If not restrained, the evoked being will react according to its nature.  Creatures called by Evocation Spells are generally more intelligent than Summoned creatures, however, and can usually be reasoned or bargained with.

Evocation Foci: To call a being from a specific realm or with a specific aspect, the caster must use a focus that is strongly connected to this realm or aspect.  The rarer and more valuable the focus, the more powerful a creature is evoked.  Generally, the evoked creature has a rarity one rank higher than that of the focus, so an Uncommon focus will call a Rare creature, and an Exceptionally rare focus will call a Legendary creature.  Note that the more powerful a creature is called, the more likely it will be to escape from any restraints placed upon it, and the harder it will be to return it to its home plane.

Vital Evocation: Because you use more potent Vital mana in your Evocations, they are Enhanced in power.  You receive a +20 bonus to any Opposed Check made against the called creature and call a creature of rarity two ranks higher than your focus: a Common focus will call a Rare creature, for example. 

+500 XP

Evolved Aspect Discovered!
Aspect: Invocation
Invocation mana is an Evolved mana type consisting of Nature (Vital), Spirit, and Soul mana.  Through it, you can channel power from another plane to empower yourself.

Associated Stats: Str/End, Per

Requirements: Str or End 75+, Per 75+, Nature (Vital), Spirit, and Soul Aspects unlocked, Mana Manipulation Expert+.

Using Invocation Mana: An invocation creates a connection between you and some extraplanar creature, with the same restrictions as Evocation mana for targeting a specific creature.  Rather than bringing the being to you, though, an invocation allows you to draw power directly from that creature and empower yourself with it.  This may grant extra Stats, Resistances, or Abilities depending on the nature of the creature called. 

Damage: You can only use Invocation SP equal to the sum of the higher of your Str and End plus your Per every hour without harm.  Exceeding this limit drains these Stats: you lose 1 point from the highest of these Stats for every 1% of your max SP of additional Invocation mana you use.  This damage heals at a rate of 10% per hour of rest or meditation.

Invocation Hazards: Drawing power from another plane is inherently dangerous.  While you may gain powerful bonuses from the invoked energy, you may also gain weaknesses or vulnerabilities from the creature.  The creature being affected is weakened by your drain, and it may seek vengeance on the one who dared to weaken it.  In addition, there is always a chance that using an Invocation Spell will force a minor Evolution on you that is in character with the energy being drained.  There is also an extremely tiny chance that any given Invocation effect will become permanent, whether a bonus or a weakness.

Vital Invocations: Because you use more powerful Vital mana in your Invocations, these are more potent than normal.  Any bonuses you receive are increased by 25%, while any penalties are reduced by 25%, and the chances of experiencing an Evolution or having an effect become permanent are reduced to 25% of normal.

+500 XP

Quest Updated: What, More Aspects?

Objective Completed: All Enhanced Aspects discovered.
Difficulty: B
Reward: +500 XP per aspect discovered
Special Reward: New Perk – Omnicaster

Perk Gained: Omnicaster
You are proficient in many forms of magic, giving you a casting bonus based on the number of Aspects unlocked.

Effects: Your Spell Power is increased by 3% per Primary or Composite Aspect you have unlocked and 6% per Enhanced or Evolved Aspect you have unlocked (current bonus +208%).  Your Spells that utilize multiple Aspects reduce Resistances by 10% per Aspect used and give you a +10 bonus to any Opposed Checks per Aspect used.

He blinked, reading through the notifications once more.  Okay, so dealing with my Charisma problem gave me a Perk and some Stat bonuses – especially to Charisma.  It finally went over 200, and now I can use it to boost another Stat by 25%?  That’s fifty points, right there for one Stat!  Plus, I found all the Enhanced Aspects and got a nice boost to my Spell Power.  Sweet!

He considered which of his Stats to bump up.  He was tempted to use it on one of his Physical Stats or Perception – just to balance himself a bit more – but the fact was, he could still train those Stats.  Slowly, sure, but he could, and eventually, he’d get them over 100 naturally.  It had to be his Int or Wis; nothing else made sense.  Boosting Wis would give him more SP – more than the forty thousand or so he already had – and pumping up Int would increase his Spell Power, which was already at something near two thousand percent.    So, what did he need more – Spells that did more damage, or more SP to use in Spells?

He was about to choose Wisdom when he recalled what Headmaster Mandla had told him about why the Mages’ College focused on Mana Manipulation over Mana Control.  With his huge boost to Spell Power, he could literally cast Spells at a quarter of their full strength, using a quarter of the normal SP, and still do five times normal damage.  If he boosted his Wisdom, he’d get another thousand SP or so; if he boosted his Intelligence, his Spell Power would go up by 250%, pushing it over two thousand percent.  Int was a better deal, if he just used it correctly.  Taking a deep breath, he chose Int, pushing it to 220 and bringing up a final notification:

Congratulations!
You have increased your Int Stat to more than 200 points!  By surpassing this threshold, you have advanced this Stat to a new level and gain a bonus based on your playstyle:

Spell Power: Your Spell Power is increased by 7.5% per point of Int over 10.

Skill XP: Earned Skill XP is increased by 2% per point of Int over 10.

Shattering Magic: If one of your Spells overcomes a creature’s Magic Resistance, you ignore that creature’s Magic Resistance with all other Spells for five minutes.  If you break or penetrate a magical shield or barrier with a Spell, all of your Spells ignore magical shielding and barriers from the same source for five minutes.

Okay, he was wrong.  With the boost to his Int, his Spells were now nearly thirty times stronger than normal, meaning he could cast a Spell at one-quarter power and still have it be a bit over six times more potent than it was supposed to be.  Yeah, boosting Int was a good call.  Although, I wonder what the Wisdom threshold bonus would have been.   He shook his head; he’d get there soon enough.  Five more levels, and his Wis would naturally be over 200, and he’d find out the bonus then.

He opened his eyes and gathered strands of Divination mana, preparing to cast his Farsight Spell on Phil.  He needed to let the Paladin know what was happening in Northmoor; Phil would probably still want to investigate, but he’d at least be aware of what he might be getting into.  The power gathered, swirled around – and immediately fizzled, causing a red notification to flash in his view:

Spell Failure!
You are currently in an area warded against Divining magic.
Opposed Check failed!  Debuff: Mana Backlash, 30 s (reduced to 0 s by Fortitude Skill)

Well, that stinks, he sighed.  I won’t be able to message him until we’re out of this Skollheld, it looks like.  That should be fine; he won’t be close to the city for a few days yet, so I’ve got plenty of time.

He finished his mana practice, bringing his Mana Control to Expert 10 and his Mana Mastery to Expert 6.  He had a feeling that was as high as his training would take Mana Control; usually, you had to demonstrate some sort of deep and unique understanding of a Skill to reach the Master rank in it.  Since his Mana Control seemed to be all about his energy spirals and the river of power they floated in, he’d have to spend some time working on those when he got a chance.  Maybe if he came up with some even more efficient and unique pattern for his energy, one that would channel much effectively, that would be enough to push him over into the next rank. 

While he waited, he went ahead and worked on two of his other hanging Spells.  He used his new understanding of Teleportation mana to alter the vision he held of his Spatial area Spell; rather than opening random portals, the Spell would now randomly teleport enemies somewhere within the field.  The distance and direction were random; they could be shunted a foot to their left or twenty feet into the air.  He could have chosen to control those teleports – in fact, he could have made it so he controlled every effect in the field, including the kinetic blasts and gravity wells – but that would have massively increased the cost of the Spell and taken most of his concentration.  By making everything random and ceding some control over the effects, the Spell would be cheaper and probably more effective in the long run.  After all, the point of the Spell was to create chaos and confusion in his foes, not to kill them outright.

His other hanging Spell was his zone of telekinesis.  His original idea was to flood an area with Telekinetic mana, connect to every object and creature within, and manipulate them with his will.  It occurred to him, though, that this initial concept was somewhat wasteful; he’d be maintaining an aura of Telekinetic mana, most of which wasn’t being actively used, and he’d have to keep refreshing that Aura to connect to new creatures or objects he encountered while he was moving.  Plus, he knew from experience with his Forge Mana Spell that moving objects became exponentially more difficult as you added new items to your control.  What am I trying to do with this Spell? he asked himself, forcing himself to look at the Spell critically.  Is it designed to hold a bunch of enemies?  I’ve got my Spatial Web for that, and it can do damage if I want it to, as well.  Do I want to fling a bunch of rocks or whatever at people?  I could just use an Earth Barrage to do the same thing, and again, it’d probably do more damage.  So, how can Telekinetic mana be useful?

It seemed obvious to him; Telekinetic mana gave him a vastly extended hand to perform gross manipulations.  He could lift a portcullis, or pull a distant lever, or grab someone who was running away and bring them back to him.  He could stop a charging ogrin with a thought and throw it into its allies’ ranks.  Basically, though, you only need to manipulate one object at a time for any of those – so why waste energy on the field?

Almost regretfully, he went back to the beginning of his vision and altered it significantly.  Rather than creating an aura of Telekinetic mana, he imagined himself stretching out a single tendril of mana to a large rock and lifting it in the air.  He replayed the vision again, this time capturing a leaping tigroon in midair, and then again, stopping an arrow’s flight. 

He made progress on both Spells, but neither had crystallized when the door to their room opened at last and a quartet of male dwarves marched inside, their armor gleaming dully but oddly soundless as they moved.  One of them, a bit taller than the others and sporting a short beard and mustache, leveled his halberd at Geltheriel, the nearest of the party to the door.

“Step back against the far wall,” the man growled in Human.  “Now!”

“Why?” Aranos asked before Geltheriel could reply, rising to his feet and moving to her side.  The woman’s hand was near her sword but not touching it, but her body language and expression showed that she was close to drawing it.  “Aren’t we supposed to be guests here?”

“You’re whatever we say you are,” the dwarf snapped.  “Now move back, or I’ll…”

The man’s voice was cut off as Aranos summoned an Earth Wall, using his Spell Sculpting Skill to wrap it around the dwarves in a neat semicircle that blocked them from sight and sound.  He felt the heavy impact of some blunt object against the wall, but he channeled more energy into it and sealed up the crack and divot the blow had left.  He held the wall for several, long seconds, then dropped it, revealing the now-angry Warriors.

“Let’s try that again,” Aranos smiled at the bearded dwarf, his voice cool.  “We’re guests here, so if you’d like us to do something, you can ask.  Nicely.”

“Listen to me, human,” the dwarf began to roar, but his voice cut off as another wall appeared, this one formed of glowing lava instead of stone.  Aranos held it up for several more seconds, then lowered it, noticing that the dwarves had all stepped a couple paces back and that the lead dwarf’s beard seemed to be smoking slightly. 

“The next barrier’s going to be lightning, which won’t be great for you guys encased in all that metal,” Aranos said flatly.  “I’m really tired of the hostility and the posturing.  If you want something, ask.  Otherwise, send someone here who knows how to speak politely, like a Priestess.”

Aranos heard a female voice speaking in the guttural, almost growling Dwarven tongue.  The men protested in the same language, and the woman sighed.  “Human, please step back against the far wall.  My escort won’t let me enter the room unless you’re far enough back to make them feel comfortable.”

Aranos frowned but nodded.  “Fine, since you asked, we’ll be happy to move.”  He gestured for everyone to move backward, using his newly upgraded Mindlink Spell to wake Avalyn, who came to her feet groggily and moved almost halfheartedly to stand away from the door.  Geltheriel waited until Aranos had stepped to the opposite side of the room before taking a position about halfway across the room, and Silma moved to flank the elf. 

“I said across the room!” the bearded dwarf barked.

“Just as you have care for your charge, so do I have a duty to protect mine,” Geltheriel replied coolly, her tone like iron.  “You have entered this place aggressively, prepared for battle, and I must assume you have hostile intent.  You will not get the chance to harm my Oathbinder, dwarf, and you will taste my blade if you try.”

The man stared at her a moment, then grunted in acknowledgement.  “Well said,” he admitted.  “Fine.  You hold your side, we’ll hold our side.  But make a move toward the Priestess, human, and you’ll be spitted on my halberd.”

“You are welcome to try,” Geltheriel grinned.  “You will fail.”

The dwarf grinned back at her in return, the first genuine expression of pleasure Aranos had seen on a male dwarf’s face.  “You’ve got the right spirit, human,” the man proclaimed.  He turned and spoke to the woman in Dwarven, and the four Warriors fanned out in a line facing Geltheriel and Silma.  The Shadedancer and fenrin stood before them silently, and Aranos could sense the tension in the room as the Warriors stared at one another.

“Greetings, one who calls himself Oran,” the female voice spoke as its owner entered the room.  The Priestess was tall for a dwarf, only about a foot shorter than Aranos, and had white-blonde hair and golden eyes.  “My name is Bokeda Heill, Priestess of the Deepstone and Guardian of the gates of the Skollheld.”

“Nice to meet you, Priestess Bokeda,” Aranos bowed his head slightly.  “I’m hoping to gain entry to the Skollheld for me, my Oathbound Follower, our animal companions, and my party member, who Bonded the smarsolm egg I kept.”

“So I understand,” the woman nodded.  “First, however, there are some questions I must ask you and some things I must clarify.”

“Ask away,” Aranos shrugged.

“Thank you.”  The woman stared at him very directly, and he reached out with his Sense Mana Skill.  He could feel the tendrils of Mind mana filling the room, but they weren’t directly touching anyone.  Probably a lie detecting Spell, he reasoned.  I really do need to create one of those – although my Sense Intent Skill and Scent Ability together work reasonably well as is, so it’s not much of a priority.

“It’s my understanding that you Tracked the smarsolm you killed from the human lands all the way to our Skollheld.  Is that true?”

“It is.”

The woman frowned.  “And you claim that you then Tracked our patrols to our side entrance, as well, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You must have an incredibly high Tracking Skill, human, but you are obviously a Wizard.  How did you get such a high rank of Tracking?”

“As a Quest reward, of sorts,” he shrugged.  “It wasn’t, really, but it’s very personal, and I’d rather not discuss it.  It was a reward, though, and I got it as part of my Class Training Quest.”

The woman frowned.  “You’re speaking the truth,” she said slowly.  “That’s good.  Now, I also understand that you prefer not to be known by your true name, but that you gave it to Priestess Rardrobena.  Is that right?”

“Yes and yes,” he smiled.  “I’m assuming you told you who I really am.”

“She didn’t tell me, as I’m not her direct superior,” Bokeda corrected.  “I don’t know your true identity, I’m afraid, as the Priestess of the Heartstone thought it unnecessary for me to know.  Yet, I’m the one who has to decide if you’re safe to enter the Skollheld, and I can’t do that without knowing your name.  Will you share it with me?”

It was Aranos’ turn to frown, now.  “I don’t think I should,” he said slowly.  “I think that if your Heartstone Priestess wanted you to know, she’d have told you.  If she didn’t, then it’s not my place to go against what she says, is it?  Sorry.”

Bokeda grinned.  “Couldn’t blame me for trying.  Dwarves hate an unsatisfied curiosity.”  She shrugged.  “Oh, well.  Back to the questions.  Do you harbor any ill-will toward the dwarven people, toward any dwarf within Skollheld Heill, or to the Skollheld itself?”

“No, to all three.”

“Glad to hear it.  Do you intend to steal dwarven crafts or secrets of our crafting?”

“No, but I’m hoping to trade for knowledge.  Is that okay?”

Bokeda shrugged.  “That’s up to the Priestess of the Heartstone, not me.  Last question: have you shared or do you intend to share the location of this Skollheld with any others?”

“I’ve told people I met Rardrobena’s party in the mountains near here,” he admitted.  “I didn’t know exactly where you were, though, and I won’t tell anyone about it if you don’t want me to.”

“Excellent.”  The Priestess turned to face Rhys.  “Now, human, I’m told that you’ve Bonded with a smarsolm and wish to apply for solmriddar status.  Is that correct?”

“I simply request entry with my companions,” Rhys corrected gently.  “I ask for no special treatment or privileges.”

“But if I let you in, you’ll get them,” the Priestess countered.  “I can only allow you entry as a solmriddar, and that gives you nearly free rein within our Skollheld.  You could establish a household, here, or claim a habitation for yourself.  You could demand first breeding rights, and none would gainsay you.  You’re asking for quite a lot.”

“I have no intent to go anywhere I am not wanted,” Rhys assured her.  “I have other responsibilities far from this place, so I would not start a household here or claim a habitation.  And I am certainly not looking for any sort of – breeding privileges.  I intend no offense, but I am considered very young for that sort of thing among my people.”

The woman chuckled.  “You may not intend to do any of those things, but you could .  So, I have to ask you the same questions I asked your friend, here.” 

“Then I will answer.  I harbor no animosity toward your people or any individual in this Skollheld.  I do not wish to steal your secrets or crafts, although I would be amenable to speaking with those who care for your smarsolms, as they likely have more experience than I do.  I have told none about this place, nor will I do so unless you wish it.”

“Fair enough,” the woman smiled.  “Then as Priestess of the Deepstone and Guardian of the Gate, I officially welcome you all to Skollheld Heill.”

Chapter 27

The dwarf led them out of the room, trailed by the disgruntled males.  “Before we enter the rear gates,” she spoke over her shoulder, “there are a few things you should know. 

“First, you’re the first outsiders to enter our Skollheld since the Feast, and you’re only entering because the Priestess of the Heartstone insisted.  Keep in mind that most dwarves have never seen humans before, so you’ll likely get a lot of stares, and maybe even some unfriendly treatment.”  She shrugged.  “We don’t have fond memories of humans, here

“Second, keep your weapons sheathed at all times, unless the Skollheld is under attack and you’re joining the defense.  A bared weapon in the Skollheld means you’re looking for a fight, and there will be plenty of males who’ll oblige you, in the arena or on the streets.

“Third, treat every Priestess with respect.  Disrespecting a Priestess will bring the anger of every dwarf in hearing range, and they won’t likely show any restraint.  Is that all understood?”

“It is,” Aranos nodded. 

“Good.  Then follow me.”  She glanced at the Warrior and growled something in their guttural language.  Immediately, one of the men turned and hurried out of the room.  “Skondror is going to alert the guards that we’re coming.  The gates can take a while to open,” she told the others. 

They traveled through the tunnel, which gradually widened as they passed.  It turned frequently, although always to the right, and Aranos was certain they were moving downhill in a broad spiral.  At first, only two of them could walk side-by-side, but after the eighth turn or so, the tunnel was wide enough for Aranos, both elves, and Silma to stride along it, if a bit more closely pressed than they usually were when walking. 

The tunnel opened into a large cavern, thirty feet across and twenty feet high.  The cavern’s walls were just as smooth and perfectly polished as the tunnel, although Aranos didn’t know if the whole place had been dug out or if it was a natural cavern the dwarves had taken advantage of.  The ceiling was free of stalactites or signs of dripping water, but he supposed the dwarves could have sealed it to prevent it from eroding.

The only real feature in the cave was the massive, gleaming wall that seemed to bisect the cavern.  The wall was smooth, flat, and featureless, glowing with the dull, purplish sheen of deepsteel.  The middle section of the barrier hovered a foot or so above the floor and had sharp spikes jutting out of it.  As Aranos stared at it, the floating section moved, slowly lifting up from the floor, mere inches every second.  He glanced up and saw that the rising barrier was sinking into the ceiling, probably into a channel carved in the stone for that exact purpose.

“It will be a minute or so,” Bokeda told them, speaking a bit loudly to be heard over the rumbling sound the moving section of wall was making.  “As I said, it opens slowly.”

“I can understand why,” Rhys chuckled.  “That must weigh several tons.  I assume moving it is difficult.”

“Closer to a hundred tons,” the Priestess corrected.  “The gate is solid stone sheathed in dupstahl, or what you humans call deepsteel.  A thousand svinariese could pound on it for a century and never dent it.”

“Svinariese?” Aranos repeated.

“Huge creatures like giant, walking pigs,” she replied.

“We call those ogrins,” Geltheriel supplied.

“That’s right.  In any case, the gate goes into sockets in the stone of the floor and ceiling, both of which are also sheathed in dupstahl, and it’s socketed into the walls on either side.  Nothing short of a Nightmare Beast is getting through it.”

“Impressive,” Aranos agreed.  “Must have been hard to build.”

“It took two generations and a ton of engineering, but that’s why dwarven fortresses are the most secure places on Ka.”

Once the gate was high enough for them to walk under, the party followed Bokeda underneath and into the dwarven city.  Aranos had expected to see a massive, underground metropolis, one with elaborate buildings carved into the living stone, but the space beyond the gate was just an extension of the cavern with myriad tunnels leading away from it, some several feet above the floor and accessible only through stairs carved into the stone.  A sense of energy washed over him, and he realized that the Skollheld was a Mana-rich zone.  Sadly, the boost to SP was only 25%, not enough for him to take advantage of it, but the fact that the whole place seemed to be awash in mana was impressive.

“You’ve probably gotten the notification that the city has a high concentration of mana,” Bokeda spoke as she led them into one of the tunnels, this one sloping down deeper into the mountain. 

“Yeah.  Is that why you chose this place to build your Skollheld?”

Bokeda laughed softly.  “No, the zone exists because we built here.  You’ll soon learn that nothing dwarves do is wasted effort.  The structure of our Skollheld is designed to attract and pool mana, and there are collectors deep in the stone that we can tap for our crafts and buildings.”

“You use mana in all your crafting?” Aranos asked.  “So, everything you make is Enchanted?”

“Yes and no.  Everything made by dwarves has been refined and Enhanced by mana, but we don’t use Dwarven Enchanting on everything.  Most of what we make only has minor, inherent bonuses, not true Enchantments.”

“This is why items of dwarven make have always been prized among our people,” Geltheriel said softly, touching her sword.  “My own blade was crafted by the dwarves for my family, ages ago.  It has lost much of its Enchantment, but it can still cleave better than any other blade I have found.”

“You should ask the Priestess of the Heartstone if our smiths can look at it,” Bokeda told the woman.  “We might be able to restore it, even partially.  If we can’t, we can probably at least repair it.  If it’s old, I’m sure it’s picked up some defects.”

“That – that would be most appreciated,” the elf whispered, touching the hilt of her blade once more.  “To have our family blade restored would be an amazing gift.”

Bokeda snorted.  “A gift?  No, it would be a trade.  Gifts are for those of the Skollheld; everything made here is shared equally.  If outsiders want our services, though, they trade for them.”

“I would be willing to discuss it,” Geltheriel agreed.  “Should your Priestess give permission, that is.”  She glanced at Aranos.  Oathbinder, if there is any way to restore my blade, I beg of you…

“None of that, if you don’t mind,” Bokeda spoke up, breaking into their silent conversation.  Aranos looked at her curiously, and she shook her head.  “Stone-speech.  It’s obvious that you can use the Powers of the Stone to communicate just as we can, but until you’ve met with the Priestess of the Heartstone, I’ll ask you not to use those abilities, just to be safe.”

“I can agree to that, but are you saying that all dwarves can communicate telepathically?” he asked dubiously.

“Nothing like that, no.  I meant ‘we’ the Priestesses.  Many of our Priestesses are given powers over the thoughts and minds of others, so that they can communicate, detect falsehoods, cool tempers, or instill fear in our enemies.  I, myself, have such powers thanks to the Stone, which is how I could tell what you were doing.”

Aranos nodded.  “Rardrobena had similar abilities, I remember.  Does every Priestess have access to an Enhanced Aspect?  Those are rare and difficult to unlock in the surface world.”

“Priestesses are granted power by the Stone through prayer, dedication, and rituals, not through study and lore as topsider Wizards.  Some have power over fire, others over the earth around us.  Some can heal, others can wield the forces of death.  We never know what abilities the Stone will grant or what limits it will impose on those abilities.”

“That’s right; Rardrobena said she couldn’t control the thoughts of others, just influence them,” Aranos recalled. 

“A common bound of the Stone, yes.  I can’t go into details, I’m afraid; the secrets of the Stone aren’t for topsiders to know.  All that matters is that the Stone gives us great power, but it also chooses how we can use that power, usually for the betterment of the Skollheld.”

As they walked, the tunnel passed through several large caverns, lit by glowing spheres of quartz hung high overhead.  Most of these had buildings carved into the rock walls, with tunnels piercing the stone in all directions, and they spotted dozens of dwarves traveling along the tunnels, entering and exiting buildings, or chatting in their grumbling language.  Almost every dwarf, though was male; Bokeda was the only female, and all the men seemed to give her a wide berth and gazes of respect as she passed.

Must be a matriarchal society, he decided.  Rardrobena said that most men can’t be head of a household and that there were no Priests, only Priestesses.  The men must do the grunt work, so you only see them out and about. 

An hour later, they passed into a cavern that was larger than any other one they’d seen so far.  Bokeda had taken them through so many passages and galleries that Aranos was thoroughly lost; his map showed more or less where they’d passed, but the compass rose had vanished, and the passages were such a tangle that he couldn’t tell where they actually intersected and where they crossed over or under one another.  “This place is a maze,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Bokeda laughed.  “Mazes aren’t much of a challenge for dwarves,” she told him.  “At least, not thanks to our Labyrinth Sense.  We can’t get lost, and we have a rough sense of where any passage leads or whether it dead-ends.  Once we’ve gone somewhere, we can always find our way there and back again.”

“A useful Ability,” Geltheriel observed.  “Especially below ground, where there is no sun and no stars to judge direction.”

“North is that way,” the Priestess pointed at an angle to their left.  “Again, Labyrinth Sense.  Dwarves can feel which way north is at any time.”

“Very useful, indeed,” the elf woman smiled.

Aranos was only half-listening to the conversation; his attention was focused on the massive building that practically filled the cavern in front of them.  Every structure they’d passed so far was plain, unassuming, and functional, without adornment or decoration.  The architecture tended to be blocky and favored arched doorways and windows.  This building, though, was shaped to look like a huge, multifaceted gem, almost like one of the 20-sided dice old-school tabletop gamers used to play their retro games.  Each facet was inscribed with elaborate runes that glowed a different color, but the whole combined harmoniously rather than discordantly, bathing the cavern in a pale, white glow.

“This is the Altar of the Stone,” the Priestess proclaimed as they approached.

“A grand and impressive structure, especially compared to the utilitarian ones we have seen so far,” Rhys observed.  “Is this, then, the abode of the Priestesses of the Stone?”

“Oh no,” Bokeda laughed.  “We all live with our households, of course.  At least, we do once we’re of age to claim a household and breed with our males.  Younger Priestesses and acolytes live here, though.”

“One Priestess holds a house with multiple males?” Rhys asked.

“Of course,” the Priestess frowned.  “How else?  Do humans do it differently?”

Geltheriel glanced at Aranos, who cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably.  “Usually, a man and woman live together and raise a family,” he told the dwarf.  “Sometimes, they stay together for life; other times, they stay together for a while and separate so they can each find another partner.”

The dwarven males grumbled softly at Aranos’ words, and the Priestess shook her head.  “One male to every female?  That seems unfair.  What of all the lesser males, then?  That must be frustrating for them.”

“Umm…well, sure, some guys have trouble, but most people find somebody, at least for a while,” Aranos stammered.  As he spoke, a thought crystallized in his mind.  “Wait – are there a lot more dwarven men than women, Bokeda?”

“Nine out of ten births produce males,” she said matter-of-factly.  She looked at him curiously.  “Isn’t it like that for humans?”

That makes so much more sense, he realized.  “No, not at all.  It’s pretty close to a one-to-one ratio, in fact.  I think it’s the same with elves, too.” 

“While the ratios among elves are similar, they rarely form long-term bonds as humans do,” Geltheriel supplied.  “Relationships tend to last only so long as each is happy and often end after a short number of years.”

“That sounds too complicated,” Bokeda said dismissively as she led them through the vast double doors into the Altar of the Stone. Aranos noted that the male dwarves remained outside and didn’t join them as they entered.  Maybe it’s forbidden – but it’s more likely that they just don’t think it’s necessary at this point, he thought.

“Dwarves keep it simple,” the dwarf continued.  “A Priestess can claim a household when she’s old enough to breed, and she chooses from among unattached males based on her affinity with the Stone.  The males of her household can attempt to breed with her in order of their rank in the household, and whichever male was successful raises the offspring, if they’re male as well.”

“How does one assign such rank?” Rhys asked mildly.  “Does the woman decide, or is there some more objective method?”

“It’s all objective, of course,” Bokeda flashed the man a suspicious look.  “Generally, rank is based on the male’s Class, level, Stats, and importance to the Skollheld.  The idea is that more powerful, skilled, and successful mates tend to give us similarly gifted offspring.  It’s why solmriddars can always make a breeding claim, even if they aren’t in a household; the ability to Bond with a smarsolm seems to be passed down from mate to offspring, and no Skollheld ever has enough solmriddars.  Don’t get any ideas, though; since you probably can’t successfully mate with a Priestess, that rule likely won’t apply to you.”

“A burden I shall have to bear,” Rhys smiled.  “And yet, despite your assertions, one who was not a dwarf might think that all this ranking and organizing is far more complicated than a simple matter of choice between two who find one another appealing.”

“It sounds quite practical to me,” Geltheriel smiled.  “One woman with her choice of many mates?  It seems like a rather appealing concept.”

“If you say so,” Aranos grinned at her.  “I’m sure you’d have no problem gathering a harem like that if you wanted.”

Geltheriel sighed.  “Alas, as the Furor said, I am considered young for such a thing as yet.  However, once the time has come, it might be something to consider.”

Although the exterior of the temple was ornate and extravagant, the inside of the building was far more utilitarian.  The halls were lit by glowing stones set into the ceiling overhead, which was once again close enough that Aranos could touch it if he wanted.  The floors were covered with soft furs to muffle their steps, and the passage was pierced with intersecting tunnels at regular intervals.  Again, Bokeda led them through a maze of corridors, but Aranos’s map suggested that they were moving toward the very center of the building.

The Priestess stopped before a pair of gleaming, truesilver, double doors and knocked in a strange pattern.  A moment later, the doors opened and revealed a younger woman with dark brown hair and an exceptionally round face.  “Priestess Bokeda, bringing the guests the Priestess of the Heartstone wanted,” their escort intoned.  “Is she ready for them?”

“She is,” the younger woman nodded.  She glanced at the party.  “You can come in, but behave yourselves and be polite.  The Priestess of the Heartstone has very little patience for fools.”

“Then she is a wise woman,” Rhys murmured quietly.

“That she is.  Now come on in.”

The room they entered was larger than any they’d passed so far and was dominated by a sphere of multicolored stone three feet in diameter in the center of the hemispherical space.  The roof stretched twenty feet overhead at the highest point, but the polished stone of the walls and ceiling gleamed with the prismatic pulses of light gently emanating from the stone.  As Aranos neared it, he felt the power radiating from it and recognized that energy; it was identical to the power that connected him to Antas’ Tree-heart.

An older, dwarven woman with graying, black hair and skin that looked the grayish color of stone stood in front of the orb, her blue eyes piercingly bright.  She was the first dwarf Aranos had seen who wasn’t dressed in some sort of armor but instead wore a thick robe made of some sort of white fur and held a metallic staff.  Aranos could sense the presence and power rolling off the woman even from that distance, but he could feel something more; there was a strange connection between them, a sense of kinship, as if he knew her but couldn’t quite recognize her.

The woman turned to face the walls.  “It’s all right, he’s who he says he is.  You can leave us.”  Aranos blinked as fifteen Warriors in heavy armor and carrying wicked-looking weapons suddenly faded into view, then turned and marched through a pair of hidden doors he hadn’t noticed.  He hadn’t sensed them at all, either through his Tracking Skill or his Scent Ability, which meant that the Spell or Ability they’d been using was extremely powerful.  Even Silma laid her ears flat and growled, startled by the dwarves’ sudden appearance.

“Forgive me if I upset your Companion,” the woman spoke.  “However, it’s obvious that you’re hiding under some sort of glamor, and until I could see you with my own eyes, I couldn’t be sure you were who you claimed to be.  Now that I have, though, I can sense that you’re Heart-bonded, as I am Stone-bound.” 

“She’ll be fine; she was just startled by how well they were hidden,” Aranos smiled.  It’s okay, girl, he sent to the fenrin.  I didn’t spot them, either.

That hardly makes me feel better, pack leader, the wolf replied.  If you couldn’t sense them, how do we know there aren’t more of them still hiding here?

Aranos repressed a frown; that was a good point, and it was one he had to consider.

“Please, step forward,” the old woman smiled, beckoning them.  “Welcome to the true heart of Skollheld Heill, the Altar of the Stone.”

Aranos walked forward until he was ten feet of so from the woman and bowed his head.  “Thank for the gracious welcome,” he said politely.  He glanced at the walls.  “Can we speak without being overheard?”

“No, but nothing you say here will be known by any outside of my household,” the woman told him candidly.  “You’ll understand that they refuse to truly leave me alone with you.”

Aranos hesitated.  “Bokeda said the same thing,” he said slowly.  “I thought the Priestesses are in charge, not the men.”

“No one is truly in charge in dwarven society,” the woman laughed.  “We each have our bailiwicks.  I make all decisions when it comes to the will of the Stone, as I am the highest-ranking Priestess in this Skollheld.  And yet, it wouldn’t make sense for me to command those who work the forge, since they know they craft better than I do, or for me to instruct those who are tasked with my safety.  Elgruth, the head of my guard, knows how to protect me far better than I can protect myself, so I defer to him in such matters.”

Again, very practical, Aranos realized.  “In that case, let me truly introduce myself.”  He reached out mentally and unbound all their disguises, revealing their true natures, then restored his Titles as he spoke.  “My name’s Aranos, Lord Evenshade, Heart-bonded of Antas and the Grand Liberator.”

“Yes, I sensed your true self the moment you stepped within my Domain,” she smiled at him.  “And, as you may know, all Heart-bonded can recognize one another on sight.  Still, I’m glad you trusted me enough to be honest.  Why have you come to my Skollheld, Lord Evenshade?”

“I was hoping to speak with you about an exchange of favors,” Aranos smiled back.  “Specifically, a trade of knowledge.”

“The Skollheld is already in your debt, as you know,” the woman shrugged.  “Is that how you wish us to repay it?  Through dwarven knowledge?  You could ask for weapons, or armor, or dwarven-forged goods, all of which would bring you power and wealth in the world above.”

“But I need knowledge more than I need weapons and armor,” Aranos countered.  “I can already make weapons and armor.  There are things you know how to create that I don’t, though, and I was hoping to learn that.”

“What sorts of things?” she asked.

“Portal arches,” he told her.  “I want to learn how to build portal arches – and to repair an Arcane Door.”

“I can’t help you with the door,” she said sadly.  “While it’s true that dwarves built them long ago, the knowledge of how we crafted them is long lost.”  She sighed.  “Portal arches, though, are a simple matter.  I have blueprints for such and would be happy to give you one, as we rarely use them.”

“I noticed that the Skollheld is warded against Divining Spells,” Aranos noted.  “I assume it blocks Dimensional ones, too.  Would that block the portal arches?”

“Not if I allowed them through,” she shook her head.  “It’s more that any such portal is a weakness in our defense, a way for others to enter the Skollheld.  Portal arches are two-way, as you may know, and they can be opened from either end.  Even a sealed portal can be forced open with enough raw power or skill.”

The woman glanced at the orb behind her.  “We are servants of the Stone, and in return, the Stone serves us equally.  It empowers us and grants us the Abilities that allow us to survive, but in exchange, we have to use those Abilities to grow the Skollheld and protect the Stone.”

“I admire your dedication,” Aranos nodded.  “I was hoping, though, to use portals to connect the Skollheld to my city, so your people could sell their crafts or trade for what you needed.”

“We can discuss that,” the woman smiled.  “I wouldn’t be averse to a portal arch placed in the valley below the mountain, where any who traveled through it to this Skollheld were kept aboveground.  I could grant that and the blueprints to the portal arch as recompense for your gift of the smarsolm eggs.”

Aranos chuckled.  “No, because you’ll profit from that as much as I will.  We can make that a separate matter.  In addition to the blueprint for the portal arch, I’d like a blueprint for an Uncommon or Rare smithy building.”

The woman frowned.  “That – is more problematic, I’m afraid.  First, our forges only work in mana-rich environments like the Skollheld.  Second, unless your people are skilled in dwarven techniques, it won’t help you much.  And third…our forges are a secret of the Stone.  I can’t just give you those secrets – not unless there was a dwarven presence to monitor its usage.”

Aranos remained silent for a moment, staring at the woman.  “What you’re saying, is that you’d trade the secrets of a dwarven forge for my allowing some of your clan to come live in Antas,” he said slowly.  That seems reasonable, but – it’s too reasonable.  I’d let them do that anyway, just to have more people.  Why would she be offering me a forge blueprint in return for…   He chuckled as it became clear in his mind.

“Ok, you almost had me there, I admit,” he told her, shaking his head.  “You must have quite the Charisma.”

“Had you?”

“Yep.  I almost agreed.”  He smiled at her.  “The thing is, if I let you send your people to my city, it only makes sense for you to give me the plans for your forges.  After all, your people can’t build them without my say-so anyway, and I’d probably only allow it in return for the blueprints.  No, Priestess, I think you’ll give me those blueprints once we make the arrangements for your people to come to Antas anyway.”

She grimaced.  “True,” she said, her mouth twisting.  She seemed to hesitate.  “There is a building that might aid your city, though.  One you would not find elsewhere and that would give you large bonuses to any crafting done therein – and it is not one that I would offer normally.  A Dwarven Masterforge.”

Aranos gazed at the woman curiously.  “What is it, and why wouldn’t you be willing to share it normally?”

“A Dwarven Masterforge is the culmination of dwarven engineering and crafting skill,” she declared.  “With one in your city, any crafting done within your walls is improved, and crafting done within the Masterforge is always higher quality – and has a chance to Evolve into something more than it was.  As to why I would not share it…”  She hesitated.

“There can be but one Masterforge per city, as it must be linked to the city’s Heart to function.  Were I to grant you this…Antas would become a separate Skollheld, one under your command.  Any dwarves there would no longer be members of Skollheld Heill, they would become part of Skollheld Antas.”

“Then why even suggest it?” Aranos asked, taken aback.  “I mean, you can’t just want to give up your citizens, and it didn’t look like there were that many people here.”

The woman sighed.  “Perhaps you’ve noticed – and if not, Bokeda will have certainly told you, as she rarely stops to think before speaking – among our people, the birth of females is a rare thing.  Every female is born to the Stone, being gifted the Priestess of Stone Class at birth, and most are content with that life of service.  Some, however – some are less happy and wish to be other than they are.  They wish to learn the art of the Warrior, or the hunt, or the forge.”

“I take it that’s a problem?” Aranos asked.

“It is indeed, Lord Evenshade, for here in the Stone, they simply can’t be those things.  The Stone grants them power for service, but the Stone also makes them fertile.  If they turn away from the Stone, they can no longer produce offspring, and as few as our females are, a female that can’t breed – is a drain on our resources and is usually exiled so that the males of her household aren’t wasted on her.”

The woman took a breath.  “One of my own offspring is such a female,” she admitted.  “She’s convinced the males of her Household and the legions to teach her the blade, and she’s taken an Advanced Class that is usually reserved for males, the Dwarven Juggernaut.  She’s very close to turning from the Stone, and that will mean her exile.

“However, in Skollheld Antas, you can treat such things as you wish,” the woman smiled sadly.  “It’s my understanding that the Hearts of the surface cities are not so – involved with their people as the Stone is with the dwarves.  Perhaps, freed of the Stone, she and the other wayward Priestesses would be fertile once more – the Stone is aware, though its awareness is something beyond my understanding, and it is possible, even likely that the infertility is a debuff given by the Stone.  Even if that isn’t true, though, your city can become a haven for those like my offspring, who seek more than the Stone will give them.”

Aranos stood in thought, considering.  “So, in return for allowing your daughter, the other Priestesses, and their households to live in Antas, you’ll give me the plans for this Masterforge,” he said slowly.  “That seems acceptable.  That still leaves you owing me from the smarsolm eggs, though, since the portal arch blueprint is insignificant to you.”

“True,” the woman frowned.  “What more would you ask?”

“I want to learn dwarven smithing,” he said firmly, holding up a hand and forging two balls, one of deepsteel and one of truesilver.  “I want to learn more about the metals you use; I understand that the deepsteel and truesilver that are so rare above are as common as high steel down here, and I want to see what kind of metals you forge that are better than those.”

The woman gazed at him, then bowed her head.  “Very well, Lord Evenshade.  We have an arrangement.  In return for allowing those who would leave to join your city, I will give you the blueprints for a Masterforge.  In exchange for the eggs you’ve already given us – all of which were Bonded, by the way – I’ll give you the blueprints for a portal arch and allow you to train with the Forgehammer – the master of our smithies – until you’ve become Adept at Dwarven Smithing.  Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he told her.

“Good.  I will have you escorted to the Foundry and make my wishes known.”  She smiled at the man.  “However, you might soon regret what you’ve asked for.”

Lily purred as the next batch of her enslaved minions was marched into the Heart Chamber and stood silently before the huge, glowing crystal.  She slaughtered them mercilessly, tearing out their throats, ripping off their limbs, and plunging her talons into their chests to yank out their still-beating hearts.  They screamed and wailed as they died – she’d taken their wills but not their ability to feel pain – but the line of scarlet staining the pulsing, green crystal only inched a tiny fraction upward. 

To be honest, she barely noticed.  There was too much blood, too much death, too much pain.  First those fucking Travelers, who tried to fight her at least, even if not one of them had enough power to fuck up her hair, much less hurt her.  Then, the peasants in her army, and now the merchants.  What the fuck did she need to buy, after all?  She already owned all their stuff, and whatever she didn’t have, she’d take. 

So much blood had spilled that it pooled on the floor, inches of it, and it sloshed and splashed when she moved around in it.  It filled the air as a fine mist, the scent of it sank into her nostrils and coated her tongue.  All that blood, all that life, all that fucking pain – it was a goddamn flood in the room, and she gloried in it. 

She’d taken her clothes and armor off a long time ago.  She told herself that it was so they wouldn’t get stained, but the voice in her head knew better.  It’s because you want to feel it all over you.   As always, the voice was right; she was bathing in the shit, now, and if some asshole that wasn’t her slave came down and saw her right then, they’d probably think she was making a damn porno.  Blood porn, she laughed aloud.  I’d watch the fuck out of that.  Literally.

She’d been so aroused that she’d brought that asshole General Highcliff down here and used him to take care of the problem.  Unlike the other slaves, he still had his mind – well, sort of.  He’d gone way the fuck off the deep end, falling from the Light all the way into the worst Darkness, and now he was even more obsessed with thoughts of killing than she was.  He’d been into the blood too, though, and she’d managed to satisfy herself despite how tiny his cock was.  Even better, that bitch Ysabelle had to watch, because until Lily turned the fucking Heart, Ysabelle had to stay alive but weakened. 

She’d learned that from Zoridos.  If she killed the Queen, the Bond would snap, and the best she could do after that was to control the city through force, the way that insane witch Lythienne had done.  That old woman had killed the king first and all the people second; she’d drained the Heart to almost nothing, but she’d never been able to Bond with it.  Hearts couldn’t sever a Bond, but they could choose who to form a new Bond with, and this one sure as hell wouldn’t choose Lily.

Even after her little romp with the general, though, Lily was still having trouble controlling herself.  She needed blood and death to take this city, so for once, she wasn’t killing every damn thing in sight for no fucking reason, like she tended to do.  It was what she had to do, and she was loving it, so there was no part of her telling her to hold back.  She wanted to dive into the next fucker she killed, tear them apart from the inside out, hear their screams while she was inside their chest.  She wanted to rip them into small pieces, eat their flesh, drink the blood while it was still hot…

She forced herself to stop and took several deep, panting breaths.  Okay, so this part I didn’t quite plan, she admitted to herself.  It was the fault of the stupid AIs; they’d cheated and changed the rules on her.  The game wouldn’t let you spawn into a place that was dangerous or hostile, but the Adventurers’ Guild – and really, the city itself – wasn’t either of those.  She’d fucking made sure of that.  She’d pulled everything dangerous in her army away from the gates and the Guildhouse; when the players spawned, they’d have a chance to escape from the city, or to fortify the Guild and fight back against her.  They weren’t trapped, or spawn-camped, or any of that shit.  She’d even had her monsters take their weapons and toss them on the ground inside the Guild, so they couldn’t even say they were unarmed and helpless.

And yet, when the assholes came back – they hadn’t come back in the city.  That had been part of her plan.  She would capture their asses again and again, slaughter them over and over, until the Heart became hers.  Some would escape each time, she was sure; the quick ones, the smart ones, and the fucking lucky ones would get away from her.  That was fine.  If they escaped, then that meant they deserved to live.  They’d earned their lives.

Besides, the Trade Road was filled with her troops, so they wouldn’t make it very fucking far, anyway.

That’s probably why they didn’t respawn here, the quiet voice told her.  You never gave them a real chance to get away.

Dammit, the voice was right.  She’d screwed up; she should have made it so they could have snuck west to Stoneleague or east to Ostcrossing if they really worked at it.  Fuck.  

Well, it was too late to worry about it, now.  By this point, the damn players would have respawned wherever they were going to, probably in one of the nearby cities.  They’d have told the people who mattered what had happened here, and eventually, someone smart would hear about it.  Someone in the know would put the pieces together and know that she was trying to take the city and Corrupt the Heart.  Someone like that asshole Aranos – he could already be on the way.

She shivered with anticipation at battling him again.  He was strong, and fighting him had made her feel alive.  Almost every time she’d died in the game in the past two weeks had been at his hands.  When she’d met him, Spell to Spell, in that fucking temple in Antas – while they’d battled, she’d forgotten about all the other shit, all about how much she hated this game, this new life, this fucking world. 

He won’t come alone, the voice told her.  He’ll bring an army or two.  They’ll know you have one by now.

That was right.  They’d bring armies.  Thousands of people, maybe tens of thousands, all of them fighting just outside her city.  She could get Ysabelle to raise the city’s defenses against them; she wouldn’t need that many troops to hold their asses out.  Even if they got in, all that death, all that blood – if that didn’t turn the Heart, she didn’t know what would.  It would be death and suffering on a massive scale, enough blood to fill this room and let her swim in it…

The heat rose in her body, settling between her legs and along her breasts, and she ran her fingers along her skin with a moan.  She looked over at Highcliff, still naked, crouched against the wall where she’d thrown him when she was finished, staring at her with hate-filled eyes. 

“Get over here,” she growled at him.  “And get that little thing up.  This time, I’m on top.”

As she tossed the naked, erect general into the pool of blood and straddled him, she moaned gutturally.  “And after, we’re going to plan how to use those armies to take my city.”

Fifteen minutes after meeting the Forgehammer, Aranos understood why the Priestess had warned him.  Olizzour Heil was a giant of a dwarf, well over five feet tall and probably just as wide, solidly muscled with skin that seemed perpetually blackened by the fires at which he worked.  His smithy was a large and elaborate affair, with multiple stations set up for forging, casting, quenching, and polishing various types of metals, and multiple smiths labored within, all adding the stench of their sweat and burned flesh to the overwhelming scent of hot metal, burning oil, and ash. 

The forge Aranos stood before radiated heat in a visible wave.  Nothing was fueling the flames as far as he could see; they were pure Radiant mana, and the temperature next the to blazing forge was almost unbearably hot.  Aranos constantly channeled a slight breeze as he labored next to the dwarf, sweating and panting as the man roared and screamed in Dwarven at the smiths hammering away around him.  They responded in kind, none of them ever missing a beat, no matter how vicious the Forgehammer’s tone, and Aranos was momentarily glad he couldn’t understand their language.

An hour into the session, though, Aranos had forgotten his discomfort as he watched the man work in fascination.  “You see, you green-skinned bastard,” Olizzour roared at him over the clanging of the hammer on the glowing metal, “everything’s mana!  Everything from the metal, to the fire, to the anvil, to my hammer!  It’s nothing but mana, and I’m adding it with every, damn strike!” 

The dwarf was right; Aranos’ Mana Sight showed him bands of mana flowing through the hammer into the glowing truesilver armor with every blow.  What he couldn’t tell was how the blows were forcing the mana into patterns in the blade, beating the strands of energy into the elegant, looping swirls of Enchantments.  Normally, Aranos found the magical anchor points of an item and used those to hold his Enchantments, making them more potent and longer-lasting.  Somehow, the smith was hammering the anchor points directly into the metal, locking his Enchantments in place even more perfectly.  Aranos could feel how the blade’s crystalline structure followed the pattern on the Enchantment; the energy here would last for decades, if not centuries before dissipating.

“How do you know where to anchor the Enchantment?” he yelled at the man.  “And how are you altering the grain like that without weakening the metal?”

“That’s the secret, isn’t it?” the smith laughed loudly.  “Practice, boy!  Practice – and failing more times than I can count!”  The man placed the partially finished breastplate back in the forge to reheat and turned to Aranos.  “Now, you tall bastard, look in that bin over there, and find a couple of old, shattered blades.  You say that you’ve got experience as a smith?  Turn those back into ingots, forge something for me, and see if you can pound some mana into it!  Go on, now!”

It took Aranos a few tries to get the hang of the incredibly hot dwarven forge, and even longer to get the right rhythm to hammer the heated truesilver.  The metal was harder than high steel and less conductive to heat, so it took a while to soften if enough to forge weld the broken pieces of metal into an ingot.  He was tempted to use his High Mastery Ability to aid the process, but he was worried that Olizzour would sense what he was doing and make him start all over again.

Once he had the ingot forged to the smith’s satisfaction, he reheated it and began hammering it out.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to make with the metal, at first, so he simply began striking it, getting a better feel for how it responded to his blows, the force needed to bend it, and how it retained its heat.  As he did, he let his mind drift; assuming he got to keep whatever he made, here, what would be useful?  He didn’t really have a decent sword, but then, he didn’t really have the Skill to use a decent sword, either.  He didn’t need a shield, or a breastplate…

“No, no, no, you idiot!” Olizzour roared, disrupting his thoughts and the rhythm of his strikes.  “Weren’t you paying attention?  Let the mana flow into every strike!  Every blow matters; nothing is wasted.  That’s the dwarven way!  Turn that back into an ingot and start again, and this time, do it right!”

Aranos quickly reformed the ingot and let it heat, pondering while he did.  He had a staff, and while he could forge a staff out of metal, it would be very heavy, and probably a bit awkward in combat.  He could technically forge a bow out of metal, but wood was a better material for that, and he had exotic woods in his pack that were pigeonholed for that once his Carving Skill was high enough.  The fact was, he couldn’t really think of anything he needed…

Then don’t make something for you, he chided himself.  Make something for someone else.  Make something for Rhys, or Avalyn, or Geltheriel.

Geltheriel’s armor was already better than anything he could forge, as was her sword.  About the only thing she could use was a helmet; hers was old, and he’d never really updated it.  A helmet it is, then, he thought decisively, pulling out the glowing ingot and readying his hammer. 

Before striking, Aranos imagined what Enchantments he wanted to give the armor.  Of course, it needed to improve her Defense; that went without saying.  Wearing a helm would probably hurt Geltheriel’s Perception a bit, so he’d want to boost that, too.  The biggest danger to the agile Shadedancer, though, wasn’t teeth, or claws, or blades.  It was magic; she couldn’t Dodge a lightning bolt or a blast of Lily’s shadow magic.  She needed protection against magic, and that meant that she needed faymetal.

He reached out to the ingot with his senses, feeling the crystalline pattern of the metal, then hefted his hammer.  He pulled up strands of Spirit mana and let them flow through the hammer as he struck, driving the energy into the metal.  His blows were awkward at first, twisting the grain of the metal and distorting the pattern he was trying to forge.  As he gained confidence, though, he could see the pattern forming in his mind.  It’s not really that different from Faysmithing, he realized as he worked.  The only difference is that I’m using the hammer to shape the crystals instead of my High Mastery Ability.

Time seemed to pass without notice as he worked.  When the metal cooled, he reheated it; when he made a mistake, he corrected it.  He shaped the metal without thought, channeling mana into it in slow, delicate strands rather than a single, massive flow.  He used the hammer to guide the crystals into anchor points, binding the Enchantments in place, and layered strands of Vital and Metal mana around those anchors, hammering them into the patterns to boost the wearer’s Perception and Defense. 

Finally, he was finished, and he placed the completed project in the quench trough, allowing it to slowly cool and harden.  He pulled out the finished helm, reheated it slightly, and allowed it to cool on the anvil.  He stepped back, pleased with his work, and turned to see Olizzour watching him.  “Not bad,” the smith called out, staring at the helmet, the metal blackened.  It would need cleaning, polishing, and lining before it could be used, but it was a decent piece.  “What the hell kind of mana were you putting in there?  That felt like something from the Stone!”

“Spirit, for the most part,” Aranos grinned.  “Vital and Metal, at the end.  And yeah, Spirit and Vital are Enhanced aspects.”

“Do it again,” the smith commanded, tossing the Sorcerer an ingot of truesilver.  “I want a spearhead that’ll do Lightning damage and punch through armor.  Can you handle it?”

“I can try,” the Sorcerer shrugged, hefting the hammer and grabbing the ingot.

Time passed in a blur as Aranos labored at the forge.  His spearhead had turned out fine, as had the axe blade that inflicted fire damage.  The shield that would improve Strength hadn’t gone quite as well, and he’d been forced to turn that back into an ingot and try again, and the breastplate that boosted Agility was a total failure at first and had to be redone twice before he got it right. 

On his final piece of work, he’d been given two ingots and told to forge a warhammer, the best that he possibly could.  Most of the other smiths had stopped work by now, regaining their Stamina, but Aranos labored on, his massive SP pool allowing him to work incessantly despite his aching muscles and tired fingers.  The hammer was going well; he’d decided he wanted to emulate Mjolnir, the legendary hammer of the Norse god Thor.  He laced the handle with Vital mana, working the grains to guide it into a pattern that would enhance Strength.  He threaded strands of Lightning and Sonic energy into the head, binding them into a pattern that would cause thunder and a shock of lightning on every hit, and he filled the rest of the head with Kinetic mana, which would increase the force of each blow and knock enemies backward.  His eyes concentrated entirely on the weapon as he worked, his full focus on binding the Enhanced energies into the metal, wrapping them into the truesilver so thoroughly that they wouldn’t bleed out later. 

When he finished, he quenched the hammer and set it down.  It was excellently done, at least by his standards, with a long, sturdy handle that added leverage to each blow.  The blunt surface was only an inch or so in diameter – anything larger would simply diffuse the impact, after all – and it had a heavy spike on the back.  It would still need to be polished and wrapped, but it was a solid weapon. 

At least, so he thought until Olizzour stepped over and snatched up the weapon, staring at it intently.  “Polish this,” he demanded, handing the weapon to one of the resting smiths.  The dwarf grumbled, but the Forgehammer dealt him a swift kick in the ribs that sent him moving. 

“Is everything okay?” Aranos asked nervously.  “I thought it was pretty good…”

“Shut up, flame head,” the smith snapped.  “Just stand still.  I want to see this.”

Aranos waited silently while the dwarf swiftly polished the hammer.  When the smith turned, Aranos could tell from his face that something was wrong; the man’s eyes were wide, and an expression of disbelief was plastered across his features.  The dwarf walked over to Olizzour and held up the hammer, his hand trembling slightly as he did so, and the big dwarf snatched it from his hands, holding it up directly in front of Aranos’ face.

“What is this?” the man demanded.  “How did you do this?”

Aranos stared at the hammer, nonplussed by the smith’s apparent fury.  He turned his gaze to focus on the hammer and immediately saw what the smith was talking about; somehow, he’d changed the metal from truesilver to – something else, he supposed.  The haft of the hammer shone with a wavy, lime-green tint that seemed to float just below the metal’s surface.  The metal of the hammer’s head was gray rather than the silver-white of truesilver, but it gleamed and sparkled like chrome.  

“Do what?” Aranos stammered.  “What – what did I do?”

“You forged lifstahl and orkmal, you emerald asshole!” the man roared.  “Those are secrets of the Stone!  How did you know how to do it?”

“I didn’t,” Aranos admitted, shaking his head.  “I was adding mana, just like you said.  I added Vital mana to the handle to boost Strength and Kinetic mana to the head to increase the power of each blow.  I didn’t mean to make…what did you call it?”

“You didn’t mean to?” the dwarf shouted, spinning to the rest of the smiths.  “You hear that, lads?  He didn’t mean to copy one of our secrets!  It just…happened!”  A couple of the dwarves laughed weakly, but the rest sat in stunned silence.

Aranos’ eyes narrowed as his anger flared.  “Yeah, it just happened,” he agreed.  “I was doing what you told me, Forgehammer; I was beating mana into the metal with every hit.  I didn’t know this would happen; if you didn’t want me to use Enhanced mana, you should have said that!”

The dwarf spun, his fist lashing out and striking Aranos directly in the chest.  The Sorcerer flew backward, crashing into the wall of the smithy, several hundred of his LP gone in a single blow.  “What the hell?” he shouted, scrambling to his feet and rubbing his chest.  “What’s wrong with you?”  He raised his hand, summoning his mana, but as he did, the other dwarves rose to their feet. 

“No magic, boy,” one of the dwarves grumbled.  “Fight like a dwarf, or walk away.”

Aranos stared at the smiths, considering.  He could probably take them all with his Spells, he reasoned.  A Spatial Web would tie them up, and some Kinetic Bullets or a Barrage would finish them off.  That would probably ruin his chances to establish ties with the dwarves, of course, but he’d been assaulted; he couldn’t just not fight back.

Before he cast the Spell, though, he remembered how Geltheriel had spoken to the guards in the guest room; she’d challenged them, her blade against theirs, and they’d responded with respect.  Women do magic in dwarven culture, Aranos realized.  Men fight.  If I want their respect, that’s what I have to do…but there’s nothing that says I have to do it their way.

“Fine, you want to fight, Olizzour?” he spat, calling up his Great Empowerment Spell and channeling energy to his Strength and Agility. At the same time, he dropped his Charisma to ten, splitting the rest between the same two Stats, boosting them to over 300 each.  “Let’s do this!”

The dwarf moved quickly, and a moment ago, the fist he sent flying out would have caught Aranos on the side of the head.  In his heightened state, though, the Sorcerer easily dodged the blow and slipped to the side, his Dodge Skill boosted to preternatural heights.  He didn’t want to strike just yet; he wasn’t sure about his Strength, and while he wanted to win this, he didn’t want to kill the Forgehammer.

“Quick little bastard,” the dwarf snarled.  “Well, so am I!”  He lunged forward, his left fist snapping out in a quick jab.  Aranos slapped it away and responded with a light but awkward kick to the man’s chest, knocking the dwarf back several steps.  It was a bit sloppy, and Aranos nearly fell as he struggled to regain his balance – unarmed combat wasn’t exactly the Sorcerer’s thing – but thanks to his now-huge Strength, it was effective.  The dwarf roared and charged at Aranos, his arms spread to grab the Sorcerer in a hug, but Aranos slipped past the man, allowing him to crash into the wall that he’d been trying to pin Aranos against.

The two men danced about for two minutes, Aranos mostly dodging blows and responding with light, sloppy punches and kicks that did little damage, while the smith drove his fists toward the slighter man with apparent fury.  Aranos stayed silent; the dwarf roared and swore the entire time.  Finally, though, Aranos had enough; as the smith lashed out with a fist, the Sorcerer blocked it and slammed his other fist directly into the man’s stomach.  The blow lifted the dwarf off his feet and doubled him over in sudden pain.  As he came down, Aranos brought up a knee and smashed it into his chest.  Olizzour flew backward, tumbling in the air and slamming into one of his forges with a scream of pain and the smell of burning meat. 

The man tried to rise groggily to his feet, but Aranos moved to his side in a blur, kicking him back down and placing his foot lightly on the man’s throat.  “All I have to do is step, and this Skollheld loses its Forgehammer,” he said quietly.

“Then why not do it, boy?” the smith gasped, clutching at Aranos’ foot.

“Because I’m here to learn, not kill,” the Sorcerer snapped.  “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead right now.  You’re alive because you still have things to teach me.  After that?  Well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

To Aranos’ surprise, the man stopped struggling and grinned up at the arcane.  “I guess we will, you green bastard,” he laughed.  “Now let me up and tell me how you managed to make that damn hammer.”

Aranos stepped back, held out a hand, and hauled the Forgehammer to his feet almost effortlessly.  The dwarf rubbed his chest, where a dark, purple bruise was forming.  “You fight like a spastic lizard, boy,” the man complained, “but you hit like a falling boulder.  How the hell did you get that strong?  You weren’t hitting the metal like that!”

“I didn’t need to be that strong then,” Aranos grinned. 

“You did,” the smith contradicted.  “You’d have more control and create finer grains if you could hit harder.  You need to treat the metal the way you just treated me; hit it softly enough so it doesn’t break, but hard enough that it knows to respect you.” 

“I’ll remember that,” Aranos nodded.  “So, what sort of metal did I accidentally make, here?”

“Lifstahl and orkmal,” the smith repeated, hefting the hammer once more.  “In Human, that would be living steel and brightsilver.  Only dwarven masters can forge it by binding the powers of the Stone into the metal.  To create lifstahl, we meld the essence of the living rock into our work, and to forge orkmal, we add the energy of the deep earth to the metal.”

One of the dwarves grumbled something in Dwarven that sounded like a complaint, but Olizzour cut him off by flinging an ingot of metal at him.  “Shut it, you worthless lump of slag,” the Forgehammer shouted.  “He’s already made the shit, so I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t know!”

He turned back to Aranos.  “As I said, these metals are usually secrets of the dwarven race, like how to coat something in deepsteel.  However, since you figured it out by yourself and handled yourself like a true dwarf would, we won’t kill you over it.”

“You mean you won’t try,” Aranos grinned at the dwarf.

“Oh, we’d succeed,” the dwarf chuckled.  “We cheat a lot, after all.  However, in return for not killing you and for continuing to teach you, I’ll ask for your oath: you won’t teach anyone else not of the Stone how to do this.  Fair?”

“Fair,” the Sorcerer nodded.  “However, I also want you to take a look at my Follower’s sword before we leave.  She says it’s of dwarven make, but that it’s lost a lot of its Enchantment.  I was hoping you could repair it, or at least tell us what it is.”

“Consider it done,” the dwarf agreed.  “Now, get your green ass back to the forge.  Next, we’re going to make himstahl, or cloudsteel in Human.”  Another chorus of protests arose that Olizzour silenced just as brutally.  “I said shut it!” he roared.  “He gave his oath, and he bested me, so while he’s here, he’s a damn dwarf as far as I’m concerned!  If any of you don’t like it, feel free to challenge his ass!”  The dissents faded away, replaced by occasional looks of discontent.

“Himstahl,” the dwarf repeated, pulling out what looked like a dark grey, irregular chunk of metal.  “Forged from the hearts of fallen stars, it’s stronger than even deepsteel and not as heavy – and much, much harder to work with, so you’ll need all those muscles to pound this, greenskin…”

Aranos picked up his hammer, focusing on the smith’s words.  This is going to be a long, long day, he thought tiredly.  I really hope it’ll be worth it.