Chapter 31

After his failed attempt to contact Phil, Aranos spent the rest of the night in the Tower of Sorcery, training his Mana Mastery.  It went up another point, but as he’d suspected, his Mana Control didn’t budge.  He tried to work on his spirals, seeing if that would somehow help, but he was far too distracted by his thoughts of Phil and the party.  Had they encountered some of Lily’s forces on the Trade Road?  Was the woman’s army on the move right now?  That didn’t make sense, unless she’d either already Corrupted the city’s Heart – and he thought he’d get a notification if that happened – or if she’d given up on trying.  Or if she ran out of sacrifices and is heading to Stoneleague to get more.

He wasn’t particularly worried about that scenario.  Stoneleague had its own army and was well-defended; the woman wouldn’t be taking it any time soon.  Trying would just cost her a chunk of her army and make it easier for the combined human armies to retake Northmoor.  Of course, she managed to take Northmoor in the first place, he reminded himself, so it’s probably best not to underestimate her.

His Skill training in Diplomacy, Carving, Animal Handling, and Staff Mastery went swiftly and distracted him from his concerns.  He put extra focus on his Unarmed Combat Skill during his training, since his Staff Mastery and Two-Handed Weapons had both hit Adept level, and got two ranks in the Skill rather than one.  He also sank into his Spell training and crafting; none of his hanging Spells coalesced, including the augment he began adding to his Zone of Speed using the technique he’d observed Radomil demonstrate, but they each made some progress at least.

Once the others had awakened, he gathered his party members together in the Treehome.  “We’ll be returning to Stoneleague today,” he told them.  When he saw the look of discomfort on the elves’ faces, though, he hastened to explain.  “Only for a little bit,” he assured them.  “And we won’t be going into the city.”

“What is our plan, then, Oathbinder?” Geltheriel asked curiously.

“Remember those ruins where we found Glorferdir?” he asked.  “We’re going to head back there.  I’m thinking that I’ll try and expand the borders and make it a waystation on the road from Avendale to Stoneleague, for one, but I also want to build another portal arch there to link the Human Kingdoms to Antas.”

“You’ll be opening a breach in your defenses unless you can fortify that place,” Mutroda pointed out.  “Building that portal right in front of what’s effectively your palace was probably a mistake, Sorcerer.”

“It’s better defended than you think,” he assured the dwarf.  “The area around it is Redeemed, so any Shadowborn stepping through the arch is going to be in pain and severely weakened.  Plus, the oilairie grove I planted will kill them faster than a legion could.”

“Are those the glowing trees around the portal?” Avalyn asked.  “I didn’t recognize them.”

“I would be surprised beyond belief had you done so, child,” Rhys chuckled.  “Those are oilairie, and their light and pollen are both deadly to the Shadowborn.  I will spend some time tending them and encouraging their growth; when they are at maturity, I doubt even a Nightmare Beast would dare step through into the city.”

“That’s the hope,’ Aranos nodded, not mentioning how he also hoped the Redeemed ground and oilairie would hold out Morx’ influence.  “I’m planning to add a couple more trees at the waystation, and I’ll plant more outside the Traveler’s Trials in Eredain.”

“The Trials?” Geltheriel asked quizzically.

“That’s where I’m planning on building the Eredain portal,” he told her.  “I don’t want to build one on my estate – I’d have to get permission from the city’s Heart-bonded for that, and I think we all know that isn’t going to happen – and there aren’t many places close to the city I know well enough to portal to.”

“I’m going to an elf city?” Avalyn asked nervously.  “Will – will they let me in?”

“Considering the Liberator’s reputation in the city, I think they will gladly do so,” Rhys chuckled.  “Both you and the Juggernaut, I am certain.”

“I was wondering about that myself,” the dwarf nodded.  “I wouldn’t blame them for not letting me in, of course – the Skollheld wouldn’t let random elves inside based on anyone’s say-so, unless they’d proven their good intentions – but it would be disappointing not to see an elven city.  I’m kind of curious how they’re designed, to be honest.”

“Practically the opposite of the Skollheld,” Aranos chuckled.  “Everything’s built across the tops of trees out of nearly indestructible wood.”

The Priestess frowned.  “Doesn’t sound very practical,” she pointed out.  “I mean, I haven’t seen many trees, but it seems like a good storm would wreck the whole city, and an enemy could just burn the place down.”

“Once you have seen the trees of the elven forests, you will understand,” Geltheriel assured the woman.  “Our cities are secure, well-defended, and quite expansive, though not as much as a human city.”  The Shadedancer grimaced.  “Humans seem to spread out quite haphazardly and occupy every space that is available to them, whether they need it or not.”

“We can agree there, elf,” Mutroda barked a laugh.  “I’ve only visited a human city once, but it struck me the same way.”

“At least we can see the sky and get fresh air,” Avalyn muttered.  “Better than living in a tomb underground, or up in a tree like a bird.”

“Well said,” the dwarf laughed, clapping the girl gently on the shoulder.  “To each their own, right?”  She looked at Aranos.  “So, when are we heading back to Stoneleague?”

“Once Silma and Glorferdir return,” he replied.  “They’re on their way back now, in fact, so within the hour.”  He stopped as he recalled his efforts of the night before.  “Oh, before we go, I’ve got presents for you newcomers.”

“Presents?” Mutroda asked.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It means he has Enchanted items for you,” Geltheriel explained.

The dwarf looked troubled.  “That’s thoughtful of you, but I don’t have anything I can trade, Sorcerer,” she told him.  “Maybe once I’ve had a chance to accumulate some…” 

The woman broke off as Aranos withdrew the suit of armor, helm, and halberd he’d made for her.  “These are for you,” he told her.  “The armor boosts your survivability, defense, and the Immovability and Unstoppable Abilities I think you have.  The halberd will help you with damage – it seems like you do low damage for as strong as you are – and the helm will help if we face something with a Stunning Ability again.”

“This – what is this made of?” the woman gasped.  “Is this orkmal?  Hursilf?  Lifstahl?”  She touched the items almost reverently.  “The making of these is a secret of the Stone!  How?”

“The Forgehammer taught me,” he prevaricated, not wanting to explain how he’d worked out fashioning the metals himself.  “It doesn’t matter, though; they’re yours.”

“I can’t take them,” the woman shook her head.  “The debt I’d put myself in; I’d never be able to repay you, Sorcerer!”

“I made them so that you’d be a better tank,” he pointed out.  “You can repay me by using them for everyone’s benefit.”  Seeing her doubtful expression, he sighed.  “Look, all they cost me was some time and metal.  The mana that went into making them has already regenerated.” 

“Metal?” she repeated, nodding.  “Would you – would you be willing to trade them for an equal amount of metal?  Would it have to be the same type?”

“That would be helpful, actually,” he acknowledged.  “Any high-quality metal would do; that’s the thing I’ve usually got in shortest supply.”

“Then take my armor and weapon in return,” she said decisively, laying the weapon down on the long table at which they were sitting and touching her armor.  A moment later, the armor appeared on the table with a clatter, leaving the woman standing wearing only her padded gambeson and tunic.  “Is that acceptable?”

“Perfectly,” he nodded, reaching over to touch the armor and halberd, depositing them into his Storage Pack.  “These are already truesilver, so I won’t have to convert them when I reduce them to ingots.  That saves time and energy, really.”

“You have something for me, too?” Avalyn asked curiously.  “What is it?”

“These,” he replied, removing the rings, armband, and amulet from his pack and placing them before her.  She reached for them eagerly, but he held up a restraining hand.  “Before you get excited, these are just a loan.”

“A loan?” she repeated, her voice disappointed.  “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.  I’m giving you these to use until you learn how to make your own.”  The girl frowned, but he wasn’t finished.  “However, I can almost guarantee that you aren’t going to be able to make anything this powerful, at least not for a long while.  So, once you get your Advanced Class, we’ll judge if you’ve earned the right to keep them or not.”

“How do I do that?”

“By showing that you’re mature enough and responsible enough to handle the extra power they give you.  By losing the attitude and proving that you take all of this seriously.  What we’re doing is a life-and-death matter, Avalyn.  People have already died helping us, and more might as our Quest goes on.  We have enemies who would kill you in a heartbeat, some of them just because they can.”

“What we do strikes against the Darkness itself, child,” Geltheriel said softly.  “The Class you have taken up is not one where you can indulge yourself idly.  The Sorcerers were hunted down during the Feast and slaughtered, all save one, who was turned to the Darkness.  You are a target, now, and as you gain power, the danger you face simply for existing will grow.”

The elf woman shook her head.  “Do you wonder why I am so harsh with you?  It is not from dislike; it is because I have lived what you will face, and I have seen what you must become to withstand it.  Your life will be one where you must kill or be killed in turn, and you will face creatures that would drive others to madness and will haunt your darkest dreams.”

“How…how do you know that?” the girl asked softly.  “What if…”

“Because, as the Shadedancer said, we have lived it, child,” Rhys interrupted her.  “We have been your mentor’s companions for some time, and we have seen the Darkness hunting him.  It will hunt you, too, once you come into your power, and you must be strong to fight against it.”

“Everyone here just wants you to succeed, Avalyn,” Aranos added softly.  “That’s our only goal.  We want you to become powerful and a weapon against the Darkness.  You need to stop fighting us.”

“If you do not, child, you will die,” Geltheriel finished in a firm voice.  “The Darkness will come for you, and none will protect you, as you have not earned that protection.  The choice is yours: accept your instruction or die from its lack.”

The girl looked down, biting her lip, her face showing her anxiety.  “I didn’t know it would be like this,” she admitted.

“It doesn’t have to,” Mutroda spoke up.  “Pardon me, as I know this isn’t my place, but you can turn away from all this, girl.”

“What – what do you mean?” the young woman stammered.

“I mean, you haven’t picked an Advanced Class yet, so you still have a choice.  You can go back to Stoneleague, renounce your Class, and take up something like crafting or merchanting.  You won’t be able to take an adventuring Class, but any of those will put you in the same position anyway, where you’ll have to kill or be killed, as the elf said.  That’s what adventuring or soldiering is, when you get right down to it.  If you want, though, you can go live a nice, safe life and forget about all this.”

The girl’s face looked thoughtful, but after a moment, she shook her head. “No, I don’t want that,” she said firmly.  “I don’t want to be a merchant like my father.  I want to fight.  I’m just – I’m afraid.”

“We are all afraid,” Geltheriel replied, placing her hand on the girl’s.  “Those creatures the Furor spoke of?  He knows what he speaks, because they haunt our nightmares, as well.  We fear death, we fear failure, we fear to make the wrong choice and let the Darkness win.”

“There are three things that make a great Sorcerer, Avalyn,” Aranos told her.  “Just three.  You need imagination, to go beyond the normal limits of spellcasting.  You need passion, to throw yourself into what you do and master your Spells in a way Wizards can’t.  And you need courage, to face the Darkness despite your fears.  If you have those, you won’t just be powerful, you’ll be truly great.  Without them?”  He shook his head.  “You’ll never really master your abilities, and you’ll always be mediocre.

“If you take these items, you’re saying that you want to be great, that you want to be more than just a spellcaster.  You want to be a force to be reckoned with.  If that’s not what you want, leave these here, and you can stay in the city until you’re trained enough to go back to Stoneleague and make your own way.”

The girl hesitated only briefly before slowly reaching her hand out and taking the jewelry.  Her eyes widened.  “These – these are amazing,” she gasped.

“They’ll definitely be helpful,” Aranos nodded.  “The big things are that you can activate a Mage Shield that will block damage from incoming Spells or magical Abilities, and your armor is boosted pretty significantly.  Those will help you survive; none of the rest matters if you’re dead.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.  She looked up at him, and he saw unshed tears in her eyes.  “I mean it.  I’m really grateful.”

“Good,” he smiled at her.  “Now, let’s get moving, so you can see how much those little baubles help you.”

Glorferdir had leveled up once more from the hunting the pair of predators had done overnight, and he was now about the size of a small lion.  A ruff of coppery hair was starting to grow on the back of his neck; Aranos assumed that would turn into a full mane one day.  He’s becoming an acceptable hunter, pack leader, Silma told him, her approval radiating from her in waves.  Soon enough, he’ll be strong enough to hunt here on his own.

Glad to hear it, Aranos smiled.  I’m hoping that he’ll be able to hunt with Avalyn and maybe Neela at some point to help them all level up without us being in the way.  They’ll need a tank and a healer, but they shouldn’t have a problem with that once the rest of the Travelers from Eredain arrive.

He opened a portal back to the ruined village, noting as he did that there were signs of activity in and around the ruins.  It looked like several armored and a few unarmored humans had been exploring the village in the last day.  Hopefully to rebuild it, and not because we’ve been traveling into and out of here.  The tracks aren’t focused around where we usually portal from, though, so it’s not likely they’re looking for us specifically.

His Zone of Speed Spell made the trip to the ruined keep fast, although it wasn’t totally uneventful.  They had multiple encounters with the Shadowborn once they entered the Blightlands, but since it was daylight, the groups they found were relatively small and weak.  Aranos and the elves hung back as much as possible, letting Mutroda tank the creatures while Glorferdir, Avalyn, and Miwango did most of the fighting.  They didn’t get as much XP as they would have had the Juggernaut not participated – her Pull of the Stone was practically irresistible to the low-leveled amaroks, kondinyas, and anisi, meaning that the others weren’t in much danger of being attacked – but they were far safer, and both Glorferdir and Avalyn got a chance to get used to the upgrades their new Enchanted items gave them.

They reached the ruins an hour later, but the attacks from the Shadowborn fell off and stopped completely fifteen minutes before that.  Probably the oilairie pollen, Aranos reasoned.  Even if it wouldn’t kill anything at this distance, it probably makes the Shadowborn uncomfortable.   The keep remained untouched by the Shadowborn, who usually avoided Redeemed ground if at all possible, and the party was able to relax for a bit while Aranos and Rhys worked.  The oilairie trees they raised together were larger and lusher than the small saplings Aranos had grown by himself; the Druid’s magic was simply better at growing things than Aranos’ was, and the trees towered in a triangle above the party when the pair were finished with them.

Aranos decided to craft a simple portal arch at the keep, rather than something more advanced.  There were benefits to that, one being that with his Needed Reclamation Spell, the Uncommon ranked portal arch could be completely built without needing any materials.  The other benefit was that the portal could only be permanently opened from the Antas end; from the keep, the portal could only be activated for one person at a time, and Aranos would know right away if anyone attempted that and could shut the portal down at will. 

Building the arch and connecting it to the High Portal in Antas was only the work of a few minutes; while Aranos rested from the Ascended Spell, he let his mind wander through the newly built portal arch almost aimlessly.  As he’d expected, the arch’s Enchantments and runes were somewhat poorly done, wasting significant energy and producing an unstable portal.  He refined the Enchantments and runeforms as he had with the High Portal, not trying to create a permanent arch but attempting to minimize the amount of energy using it would require.  He also wove in an additional Enchantment that would allow him to lock the portal and only grant access to specific individuals.  When he was done, a notification had appeared, and he pulled it up a bit tiredly:

Structure Evolved!
Your Portal Arch has become an Evolved Portal Arch!

Evolved: Activating this arch requires 25 energy from the Tree-heart and will allow a single individual to pass.  This cost is increased by 25% if the portal is used again within 30 minutes, and the cost will continue to increase in this fashion each time the portal is opened within 30 minutes of its last closing.  This portal can be sealed, meaning that it will remain inert except for those its owner grants access.

That was a useful Evolution; now, the 5,000 energy in the Tree-heart would allow about twenty individuals to pass through the portal arch if they didn’t wait the requisite 30 minutes.  Assuming Silma, Glorferdir, and Miwango counted as people, the entire party, including the humans, could use this arch for a bit less than 400 energy.  That was doable, and Aranos immediately granted the party members except Avalyn access to it. 

The party waited for several minutes while Aranos’ SP regenerated fully.  Once his mana pool was full again, Aranos cast his Farsight Spell, targeting the Traveler’s Trials, the place where he’d first learned to be a Sorcerer, buried in the earth near Eredain.  The scene swum quickly into his sight; he saw the stone obelisk that served as a spawn point, the river of radiant lava bathing the room in an orange glow, and the sealed doorways that led to tests that were designed to weed out non-Travelers.  He cast his Portal Walk Spell, weaving the strands of Dimensional mana and piercing the space between those two points.  Less than a minute later, a glowing portal revealing the distant chamber hung before the party. 

Aranos was the last to step through the portal, and he felt a pang of nostalgia as he examined the room, soaking in the heat from the river of molten rock cutting the room in half and examining the thankfully sealed Arcane Door that stood on the other side.  The room had seemed so vast and dangerous to him when he’d first stepped inside, and he remembered his frustration as he struggled to overcome the trials hidden behind the sealed doors.  Now, I could beat all of them in a few minutes without even trying, he thought with amusement.  Or I could just fly over the lava and unseal the Arcane Door myself.  I wonder if it still leads to Haerobel, or if Morx has shut that passage down?

Thinking about the dark god broke Aranos out of his reverie, and he noticed that he wasn’t the only one lost in their thoughts.  Geltheriel had walked to the edge of the lava and peered at the closed door.  He walked over to her side and saw that her face was pensive, but not filled with the anger or fear that he’d been half-expecting.

“So much began with this one door, Oathbinder,” she said softly enough that he figured only he and maybe Silma could hear.  “It was here that our adventure together truly began, was it not?  My curiosity and your destiny led us both through that portal, and all that has occurred since has stemmed from something so simple.”

“How does being here make you feel?” he asked her cautiously. 

“I had thought that it would be painful, but I find that it is not.  Once, I regretted stepping through that door – but I am no longer certain that is the case.   Had I not, I would still be a Keeper, still striving for my Advanced Class, and still chafing at the restrictions being placed on us, unaware that we were being given as fodder to the Darkness.”

She turned and faced him with a smile.  “Instead, I have become a blade against that Darkness, one that I hope has wounded it deeply and given it reason to fear.  I have journeyed to lands I would have believed beyond my reach and seen wonders I would have scoffed at as stories from a children’s tale.  And most of all, I have found a purpose greater than myself – and a true friend in the bargain.”

Aranos smiled at her words.  “I’m glad you feel that way,” he told her.  “I don’t regret stepping through that door, either, not for one second.” 

“Excellent,” she replied, clapping him on the back.  “Now, before this becomes unbearably maudlin, let us do what we must – for I predict that Elder Golloron will not react kindly to what we do here.”

“I think you’re right,” he agreed.  He glanced at the others.  “Avalyn, I’d like you to stay with me.  Rhys, I know you’re anxious to get back to the House of the Sickle and introduce Miwango to everyone.  If you want to go ahead, we’ll catch up to you there later.”

“It is kind that you consider me so, Liberator,” the elf chuckled.  “Yet, I would feel more comfortable should we all travel together.  Considering what we know of the state of the Stronghold, I feel it would be wiser.”

Meaning that you’re worried about Golloron; not that I blame you after what he did to you.  “You’re right,” he agreed aloud.  “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll put a Shield Mind Spell on you before we enter the city, just to be safe.”

“What are you talking about?” Mutroda asked curiously.  “Is something wrong in the city?”

“Something is amiss in most of the cities of the Light, Juggernaut,” Geltheriel answered with a sigh.  “We have discovered that most, if not all of the leaders of these cities pay tribute to the Darkness in return for being left in peace.”

“Not the dwarves,” the dwarf snorted.  “We would never do something like that.”

“Are you certain?” Rhys asked gently.  “Then why do your soldiers and young ones journey into the Deeps with such frequency?”

“To train and grind XP, of course.”

“That could be done in the Skollheld, though,” Aranos pointed out.  “You could train everyone to the Adept level in armor and weapons Skills, while your veterans go out and capture creatures for the younger Warriors to battle against in safety.”  He shrugged.  “Or you could just set up kill rooms in the Deeps, places that funnel the creatures into a spot where fledgling soldiers could slaughter them for XP.”

“But this way, we weed out the weaker males before they have a chance to breed,” Mutroda countered.  “You know how rare dwarven females are; very few males get to produce offspring, and those are the ones who’ve survived the longest or achieved the highest Skills.  The others aren’t worthy for breeding, so they’re somewhat expendable…”  The woman broke off as she realized what she’d just said.

“Exactly,” Aranos nodded.  “Expendable.  Just like the soldiers King Hugin sent to Track the oroloke I killed, or the Keepers that Golloron sends to their deaths in the Blightlands.  Or the dwarves sent with Rardrobena to bring back the smarsolm eggs, knowing that only a couple of them were likely to survive.”

“That…that couldn’t be possible,” Mutroda shook her head.  “We wouldn’t send dwarves just to die for the Darkness…”

“And yet your culture teaches that these are expendable,” Rhys shrugged.  “Only those who the Darkness fails to take are worthy.  Others are sacrificed in the Deeps, and I assume there are similar consequences for non-Warriors when they are young.”

“Topside, or the deep farms,” the woman replied, her face troubled.  “Young males who don’t have much crafting potential are sent to work in the pastures and farms.  The mortality rate in those places is – not exactly attractive.  They face attacks from surface beasts and creatures of the Deeps, and as their guards are usually the younger Warriors…”

As the dwarf fell silent, Aranos nodded.  “You’re understanding.  It also explains why women are forced to be Priestesses or suffer exile; females are too rare to be risked that way, and if one of you is allowed to do it, more of you will want to, as well. 

“Even so, I’m sure births among your people are rare, and it seems that you’d treasure every citizen you’ve got in that case.  You’d do everything you could to keep them alive and help them grow stronger – kind of like we’re doing with Avalyn – and you’d only sacrifice one life if it saved several more.”

Mutroda swore.  “Dammit, that makes sense,” she admitted.  “We should be doing more to keep those males safe, just for practical reasons.  Do you really think the Priestess – my Broodmatron is paying those lives as tribute, though?”

“Golloron admitted that he was, and Ryder knew that King Hugin was doing the same.  I can’t imagine that the elves and humans were forced to, while the dwarves weren’t.”

“But our fortresses are stronger than human cities or elven treehouses,” the dwarf protested.

“You claimed that only a Nightmare Beast could penetrate your defenses,” Geltheriel said quietly.  “And yet, was that not what all our forebears faced during the Feast?  The Nightmare Beasts ravaged the lands, laying waste to all and creating the Blightlands, and then suddenly – they simply vanished, returning to the Blood Realm.  No reason was given, and no explanation is known.  Had they continued their depredations, they could have laid waste to your Skollheld, just as they could have to our Stronghold.  If you are not paying tribute – then why does your fortress still stand?”

Mutroda stood, her face frozen in stunned silence.

“I can’t say with certainty, but it sounds like your Broodmatron is doing the same thing as the other leaders, Mutroda,” Aranos said quietly.  “It’s a hard truth to hear, to be sure.  Before you judge, though, think about something Guildmaster Ryder in Stoneleague told me.  These leaders aren’t necessary evil people, they’re just in an evil situation.  They’re doing what they think they have to in order to survive.”

“Some of them, though, are less benign than others,” Rhys murmured. 

“True enough,” Geltheriel added.  “And I believe that at least one will pay sooner rather than later, should my Oathbinder have any say in the matter.”

“Here’s hoping,” Aranos nodded.  “In the meantime, though, let’s see if we can build a portal arch here, and maybe Redeem this place to keep it safe.”

“Do as you must, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel replied.  “We will wait above, and I will summon you should we require your assistance rapidly.”

The party walked out of the room, into the tunnel that led to the surface.  Only Avalyn remained behind, her face hesitant.  “Is – is what you said true?” she asked after a moment.

“About the leaders of the cities?  Yes.”

“About King Hugin.  Is he really sending people to die like that?  As tribute?”

Aranos sighed.  “He is, yeah.  I’m sorry, but Ryder of the Adventurers’ Guild confirmed it.”

A flash of anger crossed her face.  “That’s not right,” she said firmly.  “Nevin, one of the boys in the College with me, he had a brother in the army.  He was one of the ones who was sent to open the Trade Road to Avendale, and he got killed.  Nevin was devastated.  That shouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re right,” Aranos nodded.  “And we’re working to fix it, so it doesn’t have to keep happening.”

“Can I watch what you’re doing?” she asked tentatively.  “I mean, I know I can’t do it, but I want to learn as much as I can.”

“Feel free,” he told her.  “Nothing I’m doing should hurt you.”  He turned away from the girl, pulling his portal arch blueprint from his pack.  He reached down into himself, gathering power from the depths below his Enhanced rivers.  He needed this room to be safe from the Darkness, to be secure against Morx’ influence.  Golden fire surged through him and erupted into the room, washing through the stone and scouring it clean.  Power roared up the walls and wrapped around the Arcane Door – and rebounded.  He could feel Darkness behind the Door, lurking and lying in wait, and his fire wouldn’t touch it.  He drove it forward with his will, pushing the power toward the portal, but the Darkness lashed out, batting the energy away.  No matter how he strove against the barrier, it repulsed his efforts, until at last the fire sputtered out, leaving him reeling and drained and with a blinking, red notification.  It took a couple of seconds for his head to clear enough to pull it up:

Partial Spell Failure!
The object Arcane Door cannot be Redeemed through this Spell.
Debuff: Fatigue 3, duration 1 hour

The structure Portal Arch cannot be constructed within 100’ of an Arcane Door.
Debuff: Mana Backlash, duration 1 min (reduced to 2s due to Fortitude Skill)

Location Traveler’s Trials is now Redeemed!

Aranos read the notification twice, processing it.  He supposed it was too much to hope that he’d be able to simply Redeem an Arcane Door; if that were possible, his Quest would simply be travelling from city to city, Redeeming the Door in each one.  He hadn’t known that a Portal Arch couldn’t be built near an Arcane Door, though, and that was something he wanted to investigate.  He knew portal arches could be built near one another; there must have been something about the Doors that kept other portals from being opened near them.  If he could figure out what it was, it might give him some insight into exactly how the Arcane Doors worked.

There wasn’t time for that at the moment, though.  “Well, that sucks,” he sighed.

“What?” Avalyn asked.

“I can’t build a portal arch near an Arcane Door,” he replied, gesturing at the massive, rune-inscribed portal.  “I’m not sure why.  We’ll need to find another location.”

They left the cavern and made their way to the surface.  The moment Aranos stepped into the elven forest, he felt instantly refreshed as the land’s energy seeped into him.  It didn’t ease his Fatigued debuff, but it did make him feel a little less tired.  He breathed deeply, taking in the scents of the primeval woodlands.  “It’s nice to be back,” he sighed.

“It is indeed, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel agreed.  “Is the portal completed?”

“No,” he replied sourly.  “I can’t make a portal within a hundred feet of an Arcane Door for some reason.”  He looked around.  “I suppose I could raise one here, but – it just feels awfully exposed.  I’d prefer somewhere more defensible, or at least somewhere I can plant more oilairie trees.  There’s no way they’ll grow well in the shadow of this monster.”  He patted the bark of the massive wynorn matriarch that covered the entrance to the Trials, the trunk of which could have fit a small dwelling within it. 

“I may know a place, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel said slowly.  “It will take us but a short time to reach it.”

“Lead on, then,” he gestured toward the forest.

“I shall, but it is in the opposite direction,” she grinned.  “Come, this way.”

Their travel through the forest was slower than Aranos would have liked, mostly because both Avalyn and Mutroda struggled with the underbrush and uneven ground rather than Aranos’ Fatigued debuff.  “Cursed trees,” the dwarf growled as she pushed through a thicket, snapping branches as she moved.  “And cursed even smaller trees.  Give me a nice, open tunnel any day.”

“Remind me to teach you Survival when I get a chance,” Aranos chuckled.  “It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“Remind me to get an axe when I get a chance,” the dwarf countered.  “That’ll help, too.”

“Or fire,” Avalyn muttered.  “I can’t wait until I can use fire.”

“Fire is quite restorative to the forest,” Rhys told the girl.  “The trees might even appreciate having their roots freed of this underbrush.”

“Good for them.”

Geltheriel led them deeper into the forest, past the ancient trees, into a section of heavier growth.  This part of the forest was far removed from the southern Blight and felt more ancient, more primeval than the woodlands Aranos was used to traveling in.  He could sense the trees around them, their ponderous awareness buried deep in slumber and barely aware of the passing of the years, much less of the ephemeral mortals moving among them.  The life here was rich, unspoiled, and untainted, and his body reveled in the pure energy that flowed into him.

They broke through a thicketed wall of brambles and tightly woven leaves into a large clearing nearly a hundred feet across.  The ground here was almost perfectly flat and bereft of vegetation, studded with rounded, moss-covered boulders that looked almost like a giant had tossed a massive set of stone dice into the clearing and they’d become embedded in the soil.  The ground felt strangely lifeless beneath Aranos’ feet; not Blighted, but as if something in the earth were pushing out the living energy of the forest.

“This is Danastor,” Geltheriel told them all, her voice strangely hushed.  “Before the Feast, a great tower stood upon this spot, held by the Nurucundo, the Dead Guardians.”

“Undead?” Mutroda asked distastefully. 

“No, Juggernaut, the Nurucundo were living beings, but they were devoted to the defense of the Elven Realms to such an extent that they swore to die at the hands of its enemies.  They claimed that they were dead to the Elven Realms upon joining the order, and to that end, they lived apart from all others.”

She looked around the clearing.  “Danastor was utterly destroyed during the Feast.  It is said that the Nurucundo fought so fiercely that the Shadowborn could not overcome them, and in their rage the minions of Darkness tore the tower to pieces, leaving not one stone upon another.  Yet even so, they could not gain the victory, for the Nurucundo held long enough that the forces of Eredain sallied forth and slaughtered the Shadowborn still remaining.  Eredain still stands because these stalwart defenders gave their lives willingly to protect it.”

“Why aren’t there any plants or trees here?” Avalyn asked curiously.  “They’re growing everywhere else in this forest.”

“The tales say that the blood of ten-thousand Shadowborn fell in this place, and the trees will not return here.”  The Shadedancer shrugged.  “I do not know if such is true, but the House of the Sickle has attempted to aid the forest in reclaiming it many times, all without success.”

“It is true,” Rhys agreed.  “There is no Blight in this soil, but something here keeps the forest from reclaiming it – as if the clearing waits for the return of its stalwart defenders.” 

Aranos looked around the clearing with a sense of awe.  While he knew that the events they were describing never really happened, he could picture them in his mind.  He imagined the Shadowborn hurling themselves against the walls of Danastor, smashing it with brute force and dark magic.  He pictured the elves holding strong against the onslaught, refusing to yield even as their home was torn to pieces around them.  “This place shouldn’t be a ruin,” he declared, walking to the center of the clearing.  Power ignited in him, golden fire rising up in his chest as he envisioned the ancient building hale and whole once more.  “The Nurucundo deserved better than to have it left like this.  It should stand as a memorial of their sacrifice, not a sad remnant.”

He closed his eyes as power erupted from him, waves of aureate energy lashing out into the clearing and plunging into the earth below.  Stones burst from the ground, wrenched out of their deep beds by his Spell and hurled free of the earth.  They slammed together in the air, the roar of their passage causing the others to cringe and cover their ears.  Fire scoured the earth and moss from them, polishing their surfaces to a mirrorlike gleam.  Cracks sealed shut, and missing blocks swirled into existence, erasing the damage done by the Shadowborn’s assault.

He pulled out his blueprint for the Great Portal as the Spell soared in power, directing the golden fire into the paper and guiding it outward.  As the tower of Danastor rose above the party’s heads, an arch of marble twined in gold and silver and studded with gems erupted from the ground before it.  The ground shuddered and shook as the twin structures swelled into being, both gleaming with iridescent fire. 

Moments later, the power flowing out of him ceased, and he dropped to one knee, panting.  His Fatigued debuff had grown to level 5; he was still able to move around, thanks to his lack of Stamina, but his Physical Stats had taken a 25% hit, and he felt weak and tired.  Probably should have let one debuff fade before incurring another, he thought wryly.  Oh well, what’s done is done.

Geltheriel stepped into the clearing, her face reverent as she stared up at the tower that now reached to the heights of the tree canopy.  “Oathbinder,” she whispered softly.  “You have restored Danastor, thought lost forever to our people.  This – thank you.”

Aranos glanced up at the gleaming tower before them.  It looked to be about ten stories high and had obviously been built as a defensive fortification.  It was square in shape, incredibly smooth so that climbing it would be difficult, and was made of polished granite.  Its windows were high, narrow, and arched, and they bulged out of the building, allowing anyone within to launch ranged attacks at invaders near the walls.  The doorways hung open and empty, but he could easily fix that by forging metal doors – or someone could, he supposed.  It doesn’t always have to be me.

As he examined the building, a notification popped up in his vision, and he pulled it up curiously:

Structure Restored!

Your House has rebuilt the destroyed structure Tower of Danastor and Redeemed the land around it.  As this structure is currently unclaimed and is in elven lands, you can claim it for your House.

Do you wish to claim Danastor? (Yes/No)

“Geltheriel, I have the option to claim this place for our House,” he told her softly.  “Would that be a good idea?  Would it make the other Houses angry?”

Her eyes widened.  “Claim it at once, Oathbinder,” she urged him.  “This will surely be counted as a Great Work for our House and gain us substantial benefits and renown!”

He opened his mouth to ask what a Great Work was, but he stopped himself before he could.  Instead, he chose ‘Yes’, assuming that he’d probably find out more about Great Works when he did.  Fortunately, he wasn’t disappointed:

Great Work Completed!

Your House has created the Great Work: Tower of Danastor, a High Tier achievement!  The Elven Realms marvel at your accomplishment, and the members of your House are filled with pride and purpose!

Base Tier Benefits: House morale +15%.  Reputation with other Houses +20%.  Reputation with combat-oriented Houses +50%.

Mid-Tier Benefits: All combat-related Skills improve 15% faster.  All House members gain +10% to Attack, Defense, and damage when fighting in the name of your House.

High Tier Benefits: All House members are immune to fear and gain +30% Mental Resistance. 

Great Works

A Great Work is a crafted object, structure, or work of art that is unique in the land and holds great importance to everyone in the land as a whole.  To qualify as a Great Work, the object or art in question must have meaning for everyone in all nearby regions, be difficult to complete, and be an object of awe, fear, or reverence among the people. 

Great Works can be Base Tier, Mid-Tier, High Tier, or Legendary.  Base Tier works usually only appeal to members of a single region and provide basic benefits to the House that owns one.  Mid-Tier works usually appeal to more than one region and have minor historical or cultural significance and provide greater benefits to the House that owns one.  High Tier works affect an entire race and are deeply tied to that race’s history or culture.  These works can provide unique benefits to a House, often granting bonuses similar to a Perk or Title.  Legendary works impact all races of either the Light or Dark equally and are usually directly connected to great myths and legends.  Legendary works can provide incredible bonuses to the House that owns one but are extremely rare and almost impossibly difficult to create.

A Great Work gains bonuses of its Tier and all Tiers below it.

Hidden Quest Completed: A House’s Work is Finally Done
You have completed a Great Work for your House.

Objective: Create a Great Work of Base Tier or higher.
Difficulty: Variable
Reward: For High Tier Great Work: 9,000 XP; +3,000 reputation with Elven Realms, Noble Perk

Noble Perk Gained!
Perk: Artisan Founder

Benefits: All House members gain +15% to all crafting for the House, all House crafted items have a 5% chance to gain +1 level of Quality and Rarity.

Congratulations: You Have Leveled Up!
Sorcerer Ascendant Level: 14
Current XP: 255,736/276,000
Int +7, Wis +5, Cha +5, +5 Stat points

I am without peer!  Without sane peer, anyway…

Aranos stared at the notification, slightly stunned even as he reflexively dropped his Stat points into Wisdom, bringing it to within a single level’s reach of breaching the 200 barrier.  He wasn’t surprised that he’d gotten some XP for the Great Work; he was shocked at just how much he’d gotten, though.  “Geltheriel, that was a High Tier Great Work,” he told her, his voice reflecting his astonishment.

The woman nodded.  “Indeed, as it should be, Oathbinder.  The fall of Danastor is a tale told to all elven children, in every city, and its restoration will be celebrated across the Elven Realms.  The name of House Evenshade will be spoken of in song and raised in toasts in most homes.  If this is not a Great work, I do not know what is.”  She examined the building critically.  “There is still some work to be done, of course.  The doors must be repaired, and the Enchantments defending it restored, but that will certainly come in time.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” he agreed, shaking his head.  “Of course, if everyone in the Elven Realms knows we did this, Golloron certainly knows we’re here, now.  In any case, I need to activate the portal arch, and Rhys, will you help me plant more oilairie around this clearing?”

“It would be my pleasure, Liberator,” the Druid smiled at him.  “I must admit, I too am amazed to see fallen Danastor rebuilt, and should we now be able to grow trees within its bounds – well, I am certain the House of the Sickle will be most pleased to hear of this.”

It took them another hour to raise a ring of six oilairie around the edge of the clearing; apparently, Aranos’ Redemption had burned away whatever was keeping the plants from growing.  He could feel the forest’s energy slowly seeping back in beneath his feet, and he was sure that in a few days, plants would be sprouting from the now-fertile soil.  Aranos altered the Great Portal as he had the one back in Antas, not turning it into a High Portal but dropping the cost of activating it to only 25% of his Heart’s energy and extending its duration to two hours. 

He attuned the portal to the High Portal back in Antas, took a deep breath, and activated the High Portal.  The unwavering, gray sheet at the center of the archway cleared, revealing the square in Antas and Saphielle’s tree in all its glory.  Now, I just have to make sure it stays open for 24 hours, he thought grimly.  That should be easy enough; I just need to keep replenishing the Tree-heart with SP as it runs low.  It seems like mostly a matter of paying attention to the Heart’s status, to be honest.

He rested for a bit, regenerating his SP and allowing his Fatigued debuff to fade to level 2, where he barely noticed it.  At that rank, the debuff mostly affected Stamina regen, which wasn’t an issue for Aranos, so it was certainly manageable.  Rhys opened an arch in the thicket surrounding Aranos’ new Great Work.  As they left, Aranos hesitated, then placed his Elemental Ward around the clearing.  With his Spell bonuses, it would last the full 24 hours, and he could dismiss it when he returned here with whoever wanted to travel to Antas.  And this way, I’ll feel better about leaving the place unguarded, he reasoned.  Just in case this Quest is a bit more complicated than I thought.

The trip from Danastor to Eredain was reasonably short and uneventful.  Aranos kept his Zone of Speed Spell active but at a lower level than normal, channeling his excess SP regen back into the Tree-heart to partially offset the energy loss of keeping the portal open.  Avalyn walked beside Geltheriel, who kept pointing out various plants and describing their uses to the girl. 

“How do you know all this?” Avalyn asked at last.

“I am an Adept in Alchemy, child, and that Skill requires some knowledge of herbology.  My Skills in plant lore are pale indeed compared to your mentor’s, but they are sufficient for my needs.”

“Are you an Expert in Alchemy, too?” Avalyn asked Aranos, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“Herbalism,” he corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“Alchemy is the art of combining very simple herbal remedies with magical reagents to create potions and elixirs,” the Shadedancer explained.  “Herbalism deals with perfecting and refining those herbal remedies until their results resemble magic.  My Oathbinder is a Master Herbalist and can cure most poisons and heal even grievous wounds in moments with little more than a bandage and a paste he has formed of leaves, berries, and roots.”

“Master ranked?” Mutroda repeated.  “Impressive.  You keep a supply of those bandages on hand?”

“Yep,” Aranos nodded.  “I don’t use them much because Rhys’ Spells are faster and more useful in combat, but I’ve got bandages, tinctures, and antidotes – just in case.”

“Smart.  It’s always good to have a backup healer, just in case,” the dwarf approved. 

“As a Priestess, do you not have Spells of healing and restoration?” Rhys asked her curiously.

“Not that kind of Priestess, I’m afraid,” she shook her head.  “I’m what you topsiders would call a Wizard, specifically a Wizard focusing on Earth magic.”

“A Geomancer,” Avalyn supplied.  When she saw the others looking at her, she shrugged.  “Just because I couldn’t do the Spells didn’t mean I didn’t pay attention in the classes.  Geomancers are Wizards who specialize in Earth and Metal mana, primarily.”

“I can use Dust, too, although I prefer not to,” Mutroda grimaced.  “It’s not good for my armor, and casting Dust Spells drains my LP a bit.  I’m told it’s because using Void mana is against the will of the Stone, but I understand topsider Wizards have the same problem.”

“Sorcerers, too,” Aranos supplied.  “Void mana drains my LP, although not as much as it would normally thanks to some Titles I’ve got.”

“Could I learn Alchemy?” Avalyn asked Geltheriel.  She glanced at Aranos.  “Or Herbalism, I guess?”

“You can technically learn both,” Aranos shrugged.  “The hard part isn’t learning the Skills, it’s practicing them enough to be useful.  Speaking of which, how’s your Spell Channeling going?”

“I’m at Student 6,” she replied promptly.

“Good.  Where’s your Wisdom, now?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Then you can handle more Skill books,” he told her.  “When we get back to Antas, we can get you Enchanting and maybe a Weapon Mastery Skill.”

“You could simply instruct her in Archery, Liberator,” Rhys pointed out.  “As an Expert in the Skill, you could bring her to Student status quickly.”

“True,” he mused, rubbing his chin.  “And that would let you learn Runecrafting from a Skill book.  Once you have both of those, I can teach you High Enchanting.”

“Is there anything you aren’t good at?” the girl asked, her voice half annoyed, half wondering.

“Melee combat,” Geltheriel spoke up.  “He could never gain the sense of the sword, and when unarmed, he fights as if scarcely in control of his limbs.  He is barely acceptable with a staff, but I would not wish him to face a Warrior while wielding one.”

Avalyn grinned.  “That makes me feel better,” she admitted.  “I’m glad there’s something you’re not an Expert or Master in.  It makes you seem more – human, I guess.”

“Arcane,” Rhys corrected drily.  “He is not human, child, as his appearance should remind you.  His failings make him seem more arcane.”

Avalyn’s face twisted in a grimace.  “But that makes him sound better,” she protested.

“I did not choose the name, child.  I merely work with what is given me.”

As they approached the base of the city, the guards standing before it snapped to attention.  “Lord Evenshade!” one of them stammered in Elvish, his eyes widening.  “You – you have changed greatly, my Lord.”

“I’ve been changed, Vaeril,” Aranos laughed, quickly Inspecting the guard.  “There’s a difference.  It’s still me, though.”

“Indeed, Lord Evenshade.  May I ask who you bring to the Stronghold of Eredain?”  The guard gestured at Avalyn and Mutroda.

“This is Mutroda,” Aranos replied, nodding at the dwarf.  “She is a Priestess and Juggernaut, an indomitable Warrior among her people, and a member of my party.

“And this is Avalyn, my apprentice.  I found her in the human city of Stoneleague and have begun her Class training.  I would like both of them to be allowed into the city.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Vaeril bowed.  “I must warn you, though, that you take responsibility for their actions.  Should either run afoul of our laws, you will have to answer for their behavior.”

“I understand,” Aranos nodded.  “Thanks for the warning.”

“Of course, Lord Evenshade, and welcome back to Eredain.”

The guards parted, allowing the group to pass into the teleport chamber that led from the ground to the first level of the city.  Silma was forced to shift into the form of a regular wolf to fit into the chamber, but the space was easily large enough for the rest of the party to pack into once she changed.  Aranos tried closing his eyes as the runes on the floor and ceiling flared to life, but as he felt himself whisked upward into the heights of the city, his bile rose in his throat despite his best efforts.  He tried to hold it down, but it was too much for him, and he was forced to rush to the side of the chamber to be noisily and violently sick.

“Ah, yes, that is the other thing at which my Oathbinder is terrible,” Geltheriel chuckled, seemingly amused at his distress.  “He cannot teleport.  It is a flaw, and unfortunately, a rather unpleasant one at times.  It is best to simply ignore him – and stand upwind, of course.”

Chapter 32

It took Aranos a couple of minutes to get his stomach under control.  Oh, I seriously hope the AIs can patch this during the next logout, he groaned silently.  This sucks so hard!

Once he rose unsteadily to his feet, his stomach empty and slowly settling, he joined the others outside the teleport chamber.  “Sorry about that,” he said weakly to Avalyn and Mutroda.  “Not the best introduction to the city, I suppose.”

Neither of the women were paying attention to him; they were staring around at the tall, soaring, wooden buildings, the wide branch-roads, and the upper levels seeming to float above them.  “Amazing,” Avalyn breathed, her eyes wide.  “This is so beautiful!”

“It’s impressive,” Mutroda allowed.  “Bigger than I thought it would be.  And you say it’s all fireproof?”

“And immune to most forms of damage,” Geltheriel added.  “Just as with your fortresses, it would take something akin to a Nightmare Beast to destroy this city.”

“And the only way in is to teleport,” the dwarf nodded.  “Smart defensive strategy.  It would be hard to besiege a place like this from the ground.”

“That is the intent,” Geltheriel smiled.  “Although for centuries, the Shadowborn made the attempt almost nightly.  They swarmed in from the Blightlands to the south and hurled themselves against our defenses each night in a vain attempt to gain entrance to our Stronghold.”

“Past tense?” the dwarf asked.  “They don’t do it anymore?”

“The Liberator reinforced our borders so that such attempts usually fail far from the city,” Rhys chuckled.  “One has heard that the Keepers of the House of Twilight have rediscovered the concept of sleep, an idea that has eluded them for centuries.”

“Where shall we go, Oathbinder?” Geltheriel asked.  “To our estates, first?  Or do we have other plans that must be seen to?”

“Well, I’d like to take Avalyn to see Mistress Tialha in the Great Square and get her some better clothing,” Aranos said slowly, remembering the irascible old clothing merchant.  “I might see about getting another set for myself, since mine were destroyed.  I should probably go see Ilmadia and show her the new metals I’ve discovered, and I promised Faraine I’d meet with her…”

“Or you could simply inform your majordomo of these needs, and he will make the arrangements,” Geltheriel countered.  “He can determine which of those should come to you, and which you must go see yourself.”

“Good point,” Aranos nodded.  “Okay, we’ll head to our estate.”  He looked at Rhys.  “Are you going to the House of the Sickle?”

“That is my intent,” the Druid nodded.  “I thought I would bring Glorferdir and Miwango to meet my brethren.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Aranos smiled.  “Mutroda, would you mind accompanying him?”

“Not at all,” she shook her head.  “This about what you were telling me before?”

“It is,” Aranos nodded.  “Geltheriel, Silma, and I will be fine and can take care of Avalyn, but I’d feel better if Rhys had a strong arm at his side.”

“My pleasure,” she bowed.  “Okay, green-hair, show me this city of yours.  And tell me about this House of the Sickle.”

“The House of the Sickle is that of the city’s Druids,” the Furor explained with a smile, leading the dwarf and leonal off into the city.  “We are the caretakers…”

Aranos turned away as they moved into the flow of people, noting as he did that while he was getting some odd looks – which was fair considering his appearance – they were respectful or even admiring ones.  Gone were the suspicious, hostile gazes he and Geltheriel had once endured walking through the city.  He pulled up his reputation sheet quickly; his reputation with the citizens of Eredain was permanently set to the maximum of Beloved, and the base reputation for his House was at Friendly, thanks to his recent Great Work.  That meant that both he and Geltheriel should be treated not just with respect but with actual enthusiasm by the people of the city.

They walked through the Stronghold, chatting amiably but keeping a wary eye out as they passed.  Aranos was certain that Golloron had been busily working to undermine his reputation and that of his House, but if that were the case, he’d been doing it so subtly that Aranos couldn’t tell it was happening.  That made it worse; the Sorcerer was sure something terrible was in the works, but he had no idea what it was.  Waiting for the hammer to drop was, in all honesty, excruciating.

As he walked through the gates of his expansive estate, one that he’d more or less inherited from the Fallen House Exxidor, Aranos wasn’t remotely surprised to be met by the ever-officious Lorsan.  “My Lord,” the lanky elf bowed deeply to the Sorcerer.  “Welcome home.  Your absence has been prolonged; how long will you be remaining in the city?”

“Not all that long, Lorsan,” Aranos shrugged.  “I’ve got to see to Antas, after all.”

“Have you yet chosen an estate for House Evenshade in that city, my Lord?”

Aranos nodded.  “I’ve claimed a decently sized estate, yes.  I haven’t done anything with it yet, though.”

Lorsan sighed.  “My Lord, I wonder if I might accompany you upon your return.  I feel I would be of much more service to you there, especially as much of our House intends to travel there as soon as it is possible.”

“You absolutely can, and they can technically travel there now,” Aranos responded as the group walked toward the spacious manor house.  “I’ve got a portal set up outside the city, leading to Antas.  We can gather everyone today and send them across tomorrow morning.  Will that be enough time?”

“It should, my Lord, as the bulk of our House members are currently on this estate or in our nearby lands.”  The man hesitated.  “Speaking of which – I see that you have restored the tower of Danastor and completed a High Tier Great Work.”

“I did, and that’s where the portal’s set up.  Is that an issue?”

“An issue?” the elf asked incredulously.  “My Lord, this is an amazing accomplishment, one that even most High Houses never achieve!  I would ask how you managed it, save I am becoming used to your achieving the impossible on a regular basis.”

“Witnessing it occurring is both my greatest joy and deepest frustration, majordomo,” Geltheriel laughed.  “No sooner do I think that I am inured to further wonders than my Oathbinder creates another before my very eyes.  It is somewhat maddening, to be sure.”

“I am certain that is so, Elder Geltheriel,” the elf bowed to the woman.  “And yet, this creation has enormous value for our House, one which cannot be understated.”

“It did give some nice bonuses,” Aranos agreed as he opened the manor door and stepped inside. 

“They are much more than ‘nice’, my Lord.  This work offsets much of the crafting penalty under which we labor, meaning we will now produce significantly more in our farms.  We might even consider claiming or purchasing territory where we can construct mines, now that such suffer only a 10% penalty to their output.”

“Speaking of mines,” Aranos reached into his backpack, producing a sheaf of blueprints, “here are the Advanced blueprints I promised you, plus a few more that I managed to get.”

Lorsan leafed through the papers, his eyes widening as he did.  “My Lord, these are excellent!  The dwarven structures will produce significantly improved amounts of food, stone, and ore for the house, should we find a place to construct them, and the Dwarven Armory is a rather large upgrade from the Barracks we currently have.”

“How much of an upgrade?” Aranos asked curiously.

“It will give generous bonuses to the combat abilities of our Warriors, as well to their training, and it will house double the number of soldiers than we can currently manage.”

Aranos nodded.  “Okay, can you take a look at those and let me know which ones you think are most important?  We’ve got mountains near Antas, so we can claim some of the land around there for mining if we need more ore and stone, and we’ve got tunnels under the city for anything that has to be built underground.”

“I will do so at once, my Lord,” the man bowed.  As he did, Geltheriel cleared her throat meaningfully and stared at Aranos.

“Oh, right,” the Sorcerer recalled.  “Also, Lorsan, there are some people I need to meet with now that I’m back in the city.  I was hoping to get a new wardrobe for myself and my apprentice, here, and I’d like to see if Mistress Tialha can provide those for us.  I have some items to deliver to Lady Faraine of House Gilris as well as crafting samples for Elder Ilmadia of House Waeslar.  I understand that Ghilanna of House Luzeiros may want to send some of her House to Antas, as well.” 

He frowned as a thought occurred to him.  “I also need to speak to Lady Wynathra of the House of Blades,” he said slowly.  “Also – whoever’s in charge of House Miradan.  Those last two should actually be a priority, if you can manage it.”

“I will make what arrangements I can,” the majordomo bowed his head.  “Certainly, Mistress Tialha will be pleased to travel to your estate, and I imagine Lady Faraine would do the same.  It is likely that you will need to journey to see the others, however, as they are Houses far more established than ours.”

“Could you also let Elder Elenaril of House Meluiben know that Lord Evenshade has returned?” Geltheriel spoke slowly.  “It was her wish to dine with him upon his return.”

“I will see to it,” the man bowed his head.  “I have much to accomplish, but I believe that Elders Mathias and Gwinivere will be returning soon and will wish to speak with you.”

As the elf left, Avalyn made an unhappy noise.  “What was he saying?” she asked discontentedly.  “I couldn’t understand any of it.”

“You could learn the language, should you so desire,” Geltheriel shrugged.  “As it seems many of the People will be traveling to Antas, it is likely you will be hearing it spoken a great deal.  It would be useful.”

“We were talking about House Evenshade,” Aranos explained.  “I don’t know how much of it you’d be interested in, since it was about things like what structures to build, where we’ll build them, and in what order we should do it.”  Seeing the glazed look in the girl’s eyes, Aranos chuckled.  “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Sorry, it’s just that you sounded like my father for a moment,” she grimaced.  “He gets excited about that sort of thing, but I don’t.”

“Well, since you don’t have a Noble House to manage, it doesn’t matter, does it?” he laughed.  “Now, I want to show you the Meditation Suites.  They’re perfect for your Training.  After that, maybe I can start teaching you Archery out on the range if there’s time.”

“There likely will not be,” Geltheriel advised.  “I am certain that even now, your majordomo is filling your schedule as completely as possible, and you will have very little time of your own.”

Sadly, his Follower’s prediction was totally accurate.  Aranos got Avalyn set up in the Meditation Suite and showed her a room she could sleep in, but just as he began to settle in for his own training, a familiar voice boomed through his study.

“Lord Evenshade!  You have returned to your estates at last!” Mathias’ overly dramatic words and tone grated in Aranos’ ears, and the Sorcerer sighed.  He’s just having fun, he reminded himself.  Let him be who he wants to be.

“Elder Mathias,” he said, rising from the soft chair he’d just settled into as Mathias and Gwinivere walked into the room.  “Thanks for taking such good care of things while I was gone.  You and Elder Gwinivere, as well.”

“Our pleasure, Lord Evenshade,” the man bowed deeply.  “Although I must say, Lorsan – I mean, your majordomo did most of the true work.  The man’s – the man is a treasure, and you would do well to cherish him.”  Aranos nearly winced at the man’s obvious attempts to emulate elven formality but managed to contain it.  After all, it’s not like you normally even bother.  At least, he’s trying.

“It’s true,” Gwinivere nodded.  “Lorsan mostly just asked us for approval on things or to choose between a couple of options.  We mainly focused on assigning and completing the Quests other Houses have been giving us.”

“How’s that been going?” Aranos asked.  “We haven’t had more problems with impossible Quests, have we?”

“No, my Lord,” Mathias shook his head.  “We decided that we would accept Quests in auction fashion, rather than first-come, first-served.  Now, when other Houses wish our services, they offer their Quests and increase the rewards until no others are willing to match them.  We have stopped accepting simple fetch Quests or anything that has a difficulty below C, as these are simply not a valid use of our time.”

“Those are good ideas,” Aranos agreed.  “I want the other Houses to think of us as a premium service, after all, not as a quick way to run an errand.”

“Those were Lorsan’s suggestions,” Gwinivere admitted wryly.  “We thought they were good, too.”

“What about the urukkai you saw?” Aranos asked quietly.  “Have there been any more Quests attached to them?”

“Not a one,” Gwinivere said, her face troubled.  “That surprised me.  I would have sworn that Wynathra would have been issuing Quests like crazy for intel or even put bounties on the urukkai.”

“I can but assume that Lady Wynathra is using her own scouts,” Mathias shrugged.  “Now that they are aware of what they face, perhaps there is no need for our services.”

Aranos grimaced.  “Faraine of House Gilris hadn’t even heard about the urukkai,” he shook his head.  “If there might be an army marching this way, I would think Wynathra would have an obligation to tell the Patriarchs and Matriarchs about it, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d say so,” Gwinivere nodded.  “Unless she’s being kept from doing that, that is.”  She looked at Aranos meaningfully, and he sighed. 

“That’s a possibility,” he admitted.  “Golloron might be forcing her to stay quiet.  I don’t see how that would benefit him, though.”  He straightened.  “I’m supposed to meet with her later today.  I have to tell her in person that Saphielle died, and I can talk to her about this then, I suppose.”

“Saphielle died?” Mathias asked, dropping his formality for a moment.  “I – I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.  What happened?”

“She sacrificed herself so that I could free Antas,” Aranos said shortly, feeling dull pain spiking in his chest briefly.

“It sucks to lose a party member like that,” Mathias nodded.  “Anything we can do?  You need another tank?”

“No, but thanks,” Aranos smiled, looking for a way to change the subject.  You brought it up, he reminded himself.  “Anything else interesting happening in the city?”

“As a matter of fact,” Gwinivere frowned.  “Golloron’s been mysteriously absent lately.  No one’s seen him or heard from him in a while.  We even got offered a Quest to check on him – not that we took it, of course.”

“Absent?” Aranos frowned.  “That’s strange.  Is he in another city?”

“In truth, no one seems to know,” Mathias shrugged.  “However, rumors fly across everyone’s lips in the Stronghold.  Some say he is locked in with the Tree-heart, capitalizing on your Redemption of it.  Others say he was summoned to the capital to answer to the king and queen for almost allowing the city to fall.  And some say that he has gone into exile as penance for not preventing Keryth’s betrayal.”

“None of which make any sense,” Aranos pointed out.  “No, I’m sure he’s here in the city – or at least, nearby.  I wonder what he’s up to?”

“You could ask to meet with him,” Gwinivere pointed out.  “As a Patriarch, I think that’s your right.”

“I could, but I’d like to gather more info, first.  I’m meeting with some of the Matriarchs and Elders today, and I can see if they know anything before I go off half-cocked and demand to meet with him.”

“Smart,” Gwinivere agreed.

“On another topic, how go the plans to transport our people to Antas?” Mathias spoke up.  “Some of our members chafe to explore new lands, as the area around Eredain has become – tamer.”

“I’ve got a portal set up outside the city,” he told them with a grin.  “Pass the word to anyone who wants to go that I’ll unseal it in the morning, and they can travel then.  Are you two going?”

“We are Elders of Eredain,” Mathias shook his head.  “We will remain here and fulfill our duties to the House.”

“We’ve gotten a lot of reputation in the Stronghold, thanks to the Quests we’ve completed,” Gwinivere added.  “That means we get offered better Quests and higher rewards.  We’ve talked about it, and none of us are ready to give that up until we start running out of Quests nearby.”

“While you’re here, keep an eye out for valuable territory near or in the Blightlands,” Aranos advised them.  “Anything that looks like it would provide ore or stone – or crystal.  We’ve got the blueprints for a really advanced mine, and if you find a place like that, I can Redeem it and we can mine it.”

Mathias suddenly blinked, his eyes unfocused.  “Hey, that just gave us a Quest,” he said in amazement.

“A Quest?” Aranos repeated.  “Seriously?”

“Yeah.  ‘Enemy Mine’.  It says we get a thousand XP and House rep for every ore, stone, or crystal location we find.  You didn’t do it on purpose?”

“I didn’t know I could do it,” Aranos shook his head.  “I figured only natives could offer Quests.”

“We changed that a bit,” Veronica’s voice spoke in his head.  “Not every player can give out Quests, but any player that’s head of a noble house, merchant family, or similar organization can.  We’ve had a few of you taking over different groups or founding their own guilds, and we thought it would be a good way for you to motivate your people.  We still decide the rewards, though; we guessed that if we left it up to you, you’d be giving ridiculous XP rewards for simple fetch Quests.  The reward is tied to how valuable and important completing it is to you.”

You’re probably right, Aranos thought silently.  And thanks; that’s really useful.  “I guess as head of the House, I can offer Quests,” he told them.  Seeing them perk up instantly, he grinned.  “I don’t get to pick rewards, though, so I can’t offer you 20,000 XP to deliver a letter, sorry.”

“Damn,” Gwinivere muttered.  “Still, you should think of a bunch of things the House needs and give those Quests to Lorsan to hand out – or just offer them to anyone in the House.”

“Good call.”  He pulled up his House screen and turned to the active Quests list; there was a new option there to create a House Quest.  He quickly selected it and added Quests for locations with ore, stone, or crystal.  While he was there, he also put out a Quest for blueprints for Uncommon or rarer buildings.

“Another Quest?” Mathias blinked.  “This one does not have quite the same rewards as the last, though.”

“Only for Uncommon or Rare buildings,” Gwinivere pointed out.  “It’s better for Exotic or rarer ones.”  She grimaced.  “’House of Blue’, though?  That’s an awful name.”

“I didn’t pick it,” Aranos chuckled.  “I just tell the AIs what I want, and they do all the rest.”

“That seems simple,” Mathias nodded.  “Well, we should go and inform the others of the imminent departure tomorrow – and perhaps begin looking into this Quest.  My Lord?”

“Have fun, and good luck,” Aranos waved to the pair.

“Oh, we always have fun,” Gwinivere smiled at him.  “But I think you stole all the luck, to be honest.”

Mistress Tialha was as stubborn and irascible as always when she arrived to measure Aranos and Avalyn for clothing.  “Of course, this would be easier if Lord Evenshade had not managed to destroy all my works at once,” the woman groused as she moved around him.  “Your size has changed, as well, as have your proportions.  I will have to custom make this; it will take three days, but I guarantee it will be worth it.”

“Would having exotic hides to work with make things easier?” Aranos asked.  “Like drake hide?”

“I am a weaver, not a worker of leather,” she snapped.  “Bring me rare cloth or exotic plants with which to make it, and I will happily fashion something of them for you.  Until then, though, please remain still so that I may work.”

Avalyn had been distinctly uncomfortable when the old woman asked her to remove her robes, and Aranos discreetly left the room at that point.  When he stepped out, he found Lorsan waiting for him.

“You have a visitor, my Lord,” the majordomo bowed his head.

“I do?” Aranos replied, puzzled.  “Who?”

“Elder Ilmadia of House Waeslar.  It seems I was incorrect in my surmise that you would need to visit her.”

“Oh, good.  Where is she?”

“She awaits you in your study.  I informed her you were being fitted for clothing, and she wished to wait upon your pleasure.”  The elf gave him a meaningful look that Aranos understood at once.

“Please tell her that I’ll be right there,” he assured the man.  “I have some gifts for her, and I need to go grab them from my room.”

“Very good, my Lord.  I will let her know at once.”

Ilmadia was an older elf, with hair that had gone silver-white and pale, nearly translucent skin.  She was dressed in a simple robe of pale lavender that set off her deep violet eyes.  “Lord Evenshade,” the woman rose smoothly to her feet as he entered, her movements showing no hint of her advancing age.  “Welcome back to Eredain.  I take it your travels were fruitful?”

“Very, Elder Ilmadia,” he bowed in return.  “And I must thank you for your gifts to me.  They were far more helpful than I am certain even you would have imagined.”

“Please, spare me the formality, Lord Evenshade,” the woman waved her hand dismissively.  “I understand that you are not truly of the People – indeed, it seems that you have now become another race, entirely.  Arcane?”

“High arcane, yes.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “Most impressive.  In any case, speak to me as you would.  I am far too old to take offense that another’s customs differ from mine.”

“Thanks,” he sighed with a grin.  “Seriously, though, the samples and the book you gave me were incredibly helpful.  Without them, I never would have learned how to make these.”  He pulled out a handful of small ingots from his pack and set them before her.  “These are my way of saying thank you, Elder Ilmadia, and hopefully will replace some of what you gave to me.”

The woman picked up the first ingot slowly and carefully, examining it in her hands.  “Hardness similar to truesilver,” she muttered.  “Lightweight, with a green luster.”  She looked at him.  “This is coiraisene, Traveler.  Living steel.”  She glanced at the other ingots.  “Which would make these simarene, calitemene, nayasene…”  Her eyes grew wide as she picked up the slim, cloudmetal and gemsteel ingots.

“Fanastaine?” she said a bit breathlessly.  “Mirauta?  Cloudmetal and gemsteel?  How – Traveler, these are great secrets of the dwarves!  They will not even sell these to those of us on the surface.  How did you acquire them?”

“I forged them,” he shrugged.  “And before you ask, I’m sorry, I promised not to tell anyone else how to do it.”

“That is disappointing, but of no great consequence,” she waved at him, her eyes still fastened to the ingots she held.  “Traveler – this is a gift beyond price, at least to one such as I.  I have samples of some of these, but not of calitemene, fanastaine, and mirauta.  I believe I will be spending the next decade or so puzzling out the secrets of these metals and learning their properties.”  Her eyes glowed.  “I will have new insights to add to my works, something that has not happened for many years!”

“Well, I’m glad I could help you the way you helped me,” he smiled at her.  Her enthusiasm was infectious, and it was hard not to be caught up in it.

“No, this is much more than I gave you,” she shook her head.  “I am indebted to you once more, Lord Evenshade, and I will consider how best to repay that debt.”  He opened his mouth to protest, but she tutted at him, and he fell silent.  “There is no point arguing.  I have decided, and so will it be.  I will speak with you once I have decided an appropriate reward.”

His next visitor, sadly, was one he was much less enthused to greet.  “Lord Evenshade, this is Patriarch Ruvyn, head of House Miradan.”

Aranos concealed a wince.  This is Saphielle’s father, he realized, seeing tiny resemblances in his chin and eyes.  “Welcome to my home, Lord Miradan,” Aranos bowed deeply.  “You honor me with your presence.”

“The honor is all mine, Lord Evenshade,” the man bowed in return.  His hair was a deeper blue than Saphielle’s, his body slighter and less solid.  His hands were long-fingered and soft, and his green eyes didn’t have the hardness and jaded expression his daughter’s once had.  “I have heard a great deal about your exploits, and I am humbled to meet you.”

“My Lord, would you like to escort Lord Miradan to your study?” Lorsan asked politely. 

Good point.  Can’t just stand here in the front hall, and what I have to tell him needs some privacy.

Aranos led the shorter man through the manor into his study, offering him a seat.  “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked the elf.  “Something to eat?”

“No, Lord Evenshade, I am content,” the man smiled.  “And while I would spend time with you, I am certain that you have called me here for a purpose – and I fear I know what that purpose is.”

Well, no beating around the bush, he thought with a tired sigh.  Of all the things he had to do today, this was the one he’d been dreading the most.  “Lord Miradan, as you know, your daughter Saphielle chose to join me in my travels.”

“Indeed, we were quite proud of her choice,” the man nodded.  “She always wished to battle the Darkness directly, and we are glad that she has been given the opportunity to do so at your side.”

Aranos swallowed hard before he spoke.  “As you may know, we went to the city of Antas to reclaim the lost Library there.  We fought our way into the city, and found it was being held by a qualintar, one far more powerful than most.”

“A fearsome creature, I have heard,” the man nodded. 

“Very.”  Aranos took a deep breath.  “Your daughter had chosen the Bright Avenger Advanced Class.  She swore to be the shield for all of us, so that we could be the sword to bring down the Darkness.  When she and I faced the qualintar, she was that shield – and she gave her life so that we could free the city.”

The man’s head dropped at Aranos’ words, and the Sorcerer saw tears dripping from his eyes.  “I’m sorry, Lord Miradan,” Aranos said, his voice rough with emotion.  “I did everything I could to save her…”

The man held up a hand, and Aranos feel silent.  Ruvyn took a deep, shuddering breath.  “We have known for some time that this day would come, Lord Evenshade,” he said softly.  “When our daughter chose to join the House of Blades, we feigned excitement and joy for her, but inside, our hearts quailed with dread, for this is the outcome we always feared.”

Aranos opened his mouth to speak, but the man again motioned him to silence.  “I tell you this so that you will understand; we knew that one day, we would be hearing these words.  We believed we would hear that she fell in defense of the city to some random Shadowborn who cleared the walls, simply another casualty of our attempts to hold the Darkness at bay.”

The man raised his tear-stained face and looked directly at Aranos.  “Instead, I have learned that she gave her life to advance the cause of the Light.  You destroyed the creature?”

“I did,” Aranos nodded.  “And your daughter’s memory gave me the will to do it.”

“Then she died as she would have chosen.”  The man rose to his feet, his face sorrowful.  “Part of me is infuriated with you, Lord Evenshade,” he admitted.  “Your Quest has taken my daughter from me.  Yet, part of me rejoices that her sacrifice had such meaning and power.  I hope that it is remembered.”

Aranos rose as well.  “It is, Lord Miradan,” he said firmly, pulling up strands of Dimensional and Light magic as he spoke.  “A monument to her stands before the Treehome in Antas, one that will remind everyone of her sacrifice, forever.  She will not be forgotten.”

He’d expected resistance to his Farsight Spell as it tried to penetrate the wards surrounding the city, but to his surprise, the window formed almost effortlessly in the air.  Saphielle’s tree stood proudly before the Treehome, its cream and emerald trunk and crimson leaves with bright, blue veins shedding a multihued radiance that could be seen even in the sunlight.

“This – you raised this to my daughter?” the man gasped.  “What sort of tree is this?”

“My Druid companion and I raised it together,” Aranos clarified.  “Your daughter is buried beneath it.  And as far as we can tell, it’s unique to this world and doesn’t have a name.  I just call it Saphielle’s tree.”

The man stared at the tree, tears streaming anew from his eyes.  “That – thank you my Lord, for letting me see this,” he said softly.  “I wonder – would it be possible for Lady Miradan and I to visit it sometime?  It would be well to say goodbye to our child.”

“Anytime,” he nodded, letting the window close.  “Talk to my people here, and they’ll get me a message.  I’ll come and portal you over myself.”

“Thank you,” the man sniffed, wiping his face.  He looked shrewdly at the Sorcerer.  “I noted that the tree seemed to be a mingling of my daughter and you, Lord Evenshade.  She cared for you?”

Aranos nodded.  “And I cared for her.”

The man stared at his face, then nodded as if finding something.  “Yes, I can see the pain in your eyes.  You grieve for her loss, even as I do.  That – I can ask for nothing more than that.  Knowing that you would not have spent her life cheaply, and that her death had meaning – these are more than we could ever have hoped.”

The man walked toward the door.  “It will be some time before we will reach out to you, Lord Evenshade.  This loss is difficult, and more difficult for us than it might otherwise have been.  You may not understand that…”

“Saphielle told me about her sister.”

“I see,” the man’s face flashed with new pain.  “Then she must have cared for you deeply, to share that hurt with you.  At least you will understand that for a time, we will ask that you and yours leave us in peace.”

“Of course,” Aranos nodded.  “And again, I’m sorry…”

“I can tell that you are, Lord Evenshade, and that means something.  However…”  The man shook his head.  “I must go.  May the rest of your day be more joyous than this encounter.”

Fortunately, that was the low point of Aranos’ meetings.  A bit later, Faraine also came to visit him and brought along a dozen or so elves with her.  “These are the members of House Gilris that wish to travel to Antas with you, Lord Evenshade,” she told him when he walked outside to greet her.  “I make known to you Master Sionia of House Gilris, she who will be leading the newest branch of the House as an Elder.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lord,” Sionia bowed to him.  The elf woman looked to be older than Faraine but was still short for an elf – Aranos wondered if it was a family trait.  Her hair was an almost fluorescent orange and cut short, falling just below her ears, and her face was rounder and more almond-shaped than most elves.

“The pleasure is mine, Elder Sionia,” he bowed in return forcing the formality from his mouth.  “I look forward to many happy dealings with you and your House.”  He looked at Faraine.  “And in that regard, I have some items I have crafted for you to sell.  Would you join me in the manor so I can show you?”

“Indeed, I would be delighted,” the woman smiled.

“Good.”  He looked at Lorsan.

“I will see to the accommodations for our guests from House Gilris, my Lord,” the elf bowed.  “If you could upgrade one of the Guest Houses, it would be suitable.”

“Of course,” Aranos nodded, opening his House screen and upgrading one of the Guest Houses to Improved Housing.  “Done.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Master Sionia, I would have you join us,” Faraine interjected.  “You will need to see the sorts of crafts Lord Evenshade can supply.”

As Aranos led the two women into the manor, he glanced at Faraine.  “I have the goods I forged set up on a table in the dining room,” he told her.  “I made some weapons and armor, but also some rings, amulets, and other trinkets.  I was unsure what would sell the best.”

“I am certain we will be able to sell it all for you, Lord Evenshade,” the woman said dismissively.

“I hope so.”  He opened the door to the dining room.  “Now, I know that I promised faymetal, and I do have some such, but not all of it is of that material.  I hope that is acceptable.”

“That is understandable, Lord Evenshade,” Faraine smiled, although he saw her face flash with disappointment.  “Certainly, no one could expect…”  She broke off as she looked at the wares he’d placed carefully on the table, and her face reflected her stunned amazement. 

“My – my lord Evenshade,” she breathed a moment later, reaching out to touch a brightsilver shield.  “What – what is all this?”

“Well, Lady Faraine, you had to wait longer than I anticipated,” he smiled at her.  “In the meantime, however, I learned to forge other and more valuable types of metal, and I crafted some items of each type so you could see what sold the best.”

The woman moved down the table, her fingers lingering on different items.  “My Lord, these are far more valuable than I imagined,” she told him.  “And the Enchantments – I do not recognize this method.  How did you place these?”

“Dwarven Enchanting,” he smiled at her.

“Is it possible – could you…?”

“I can teach you how to do it, yes,” he assured her.  “Assuming you have a smithing Skill of some sort.  I am Expert ranked in it.”  His face twisted.  “I promised not to share the secret of making the dwarven metals, though, sorry.”

“You are…sorry?” she repeated, her face creasing with a smile.  “Lord Evenshade, I am tempted to kiss you right now, and you are sorry?”  She turned to Sionia.  “While you will still be House Elder, Master Sionia, you will understand that I will be joining you in Antas, yes?”

“I fully understand, my Lady,” the elf bowed, concealing a smile.  “These secrets are too valuable to pass up.”

“Indeed.  Lord Evenshade, understand that with this knowledge, House Gilris could become one of the – no, the preeminent Enchanting house in the Elven Realms.  If we could combine dwarven and elven Enchanting techniques, we could name our price for our items, and we could focus purely on specialty and custom orders, no longer mass-producing basic Enchantments.  Your instruction may be the greatest boon we have had since – since the founding of the House!  Name your price, and I will meet it.”

“I still want to exchange knowledge with you,” Aranos shook his head.  “I would learn of other Enchantments I could create and how to make my existing ones better.  I will teach you, you will teach me, and we will gain together.”

“It will be so,” Faraine declared.  “And let it be known in the Realms that from this time forth, House Gilris and House Evenshade are inextricably linked; your enemies are our enemies, and our friends are your friends.  So say I.  Do you agree?”

A notification popped up, and Aranos hastily looked through it:

Alliance Offered!

Faraine of House Gilris wishes to offer you an alliance between House Gilris and House Evenshade.

Benefits: Relations between your Houses is locked at Beloved so long as the Alliance lasts.  As House Gilris is a High House, your House’s reputation increases +1 rank.  Should any House become an enemy of or attack your House, House Gilris will defend you.

Penalties: You lose one rank of reputation with any House inimical to House Gilris.  Should any House attack or become an enemy of House Gilris, you are required to act in their defense.

Do you wish to form an alliance? (Yes/No)

Aranos considered it briefly before agreeing.  He was a bit wary of becoming entangled in elven politics, but Faraine had been a good friend to his House so far, and he needed all the allies he could get.  “I agree,” he declared.

“Then it is decided.”  She turned to Sionia.  “This will change our plans.  Please return to the estate with me, Master Sionia.”

“Of course, my Lady,” the woman replied.

Faraine turned back to Aranos.  “When will your portal be ready for transit, Lord Evenshade?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Then Master Sionia and I will return at that time.  Master Sionia, please gather these most excellent items so that we may begin the process of selling them.”

After Faraine left, Lorsan joined Aranos once more.  “I see that we have joined with House Gilris in an alliance, my Lord,” the man noted.

“Yes, I thought it was a good idea.  What do you think?”

“House Gilris has few enemies, my Lord, and those that dislike the House already are ill-disposed to us for the support we give them,” Lorsan shrugged.  “It gives us an influential trading and crafting partner and gives House Gilris significant martial support.  All in all, a fair trade.”

“Martial support?” Aranos asked.

“Yes, my Lord.  House Gilris is a High House, but they are devoted to crafting and have mostly avoided confrontations.  With our support, they may take a more active stance, and others will be hesitant to oppose them.”

“Lorsan, we have, what, fifty people under arms in our House?” Aranos chuckled.  “I don’t think we’re much of a threat.”

“Because you underestimate the danger Travelers present, my Lord,” the elf replied quietly.  “It is well-known that many of the Travelers in the Elven Realms have joined House Evenshade, and as we extend our reach to other cities, I am certain even more will do so.  Although our numbers are yet small, Travelers are seen as extraordinarily powerful and dangerous thanks to your ability to return from death.”  The elf shrugged.  “It is essentially impossible to utterly destroy this House, and should any House declare war on us, eventually, the Travelers would reduce even the greatest to ashes.  All know this, and it gives us more power and influence than we might normally have.”

Aranos frowned; he hadn’t thought of that.  It would be pretty much impossible to obliterate his House, and he and the other Travelers would come back again and again to destroy any attackers.  “That’s a good point,” he admitted.  “I’m glad you approve.”

“Indeed, my Lord, but that is not the reason I sought you out.  You have received a reply to your request for a meeting with Lady Wynathra.  She bids you visit her at the House of Blades and requests all due haste.”

Aranos frowned; that didn’t sound good.  “Very well, please let her know I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied.

“Of course, my Lord.”

He found Geltheriel on the Archery range with Avalyn, teaching the girl with a training bow.  He watched for a few minutes; Geltheriel wasn’t Expert-ranked in Archery, as far as he knew, but as an Adept, she could teach the girl the basics.  Avalyn would be a Novice, but she’d at least have Archery and Bow Mastery Trained, which was a huge advantage.  He watched until the Shadedancer noticed him and halted the training. 

“That is a good start, child,” the elf said approvingly.  “You learn quickly.  Continue to practice while I speak with your teacher.”

“My hand’s getting sore,” Avalyn muttered.

“Then you are doing it correctly,” the woman said shortly.  “You must train your muscles and body, not merely gain a rank of a Skill.  Having an Expert-ranked Skill is worth little if your Stats do not match your potential.”  She looked directly at Aranos as she spoke, and he rolled his eyes.  Yeah, yeah, make fun, but I’m the one with the Expert Skill.

Geltheriel walked over to stand beside him, her face concerned.  “You look troubled, Oathbinder.  Has the day not gone well?”

“No, it’s been fine,” he shook his head, then grimaced.  “At least, mostly.  I met with Saphielle’s father today.”

Geltheriel’s eyes tightened briefly, but she simply nodded.  “Normally, it would be surprising for Lord Miradan to venture to see the head of such a young House, but in this case, I can see why he would do so.  How did he respond to the news?”

“About the way you’d expect,” Aranos sighed.  “I did show him Saphielle’s tree, and he asked if he and his wife could visit it sometime.”

“Not his wife, Oathbinder.  Lady Miradan is simply the mother of the fallen Avenger; there is no permanent bond between them, as such a thing is very rare among elves.”

Aranos frowned.  “Really?  I was sure that Saphielle said – no, I guess she just talked about her parents.  I assumed they were married, since they’re in the same House.”

“Often, such relationships are between House members, as it is easier on the children to be raised in a single House rather than two.  However, her parents have not been partners in that way for many years, soon after the birth of the Avenger and her sister.”

“Huh,” Aranos considered her words.  “I didn’t know that.  Is that common?”

“Very.  Elves are long-lived, and commitments rarely last more than a handful of years, long enough to produce children and not much longer.  Once the children are born, the parents’ focus is upon their progeny, not one another, and it is natural for them to drift apart.  My own mother and father parted ways when I was young, although they are still quite close.”

“So, your sister?”

“We share a mother, not a father, yes.  It does not matter; generally, siblings are considered related if they share the same mother, as it is the only way to be truly certain they share the same blood.”

That makes sense, he allowed.  I mean, everyone knows who the mother of a child is.  They can’t be 100% sure of the father. 

“Is that why you are troubled, Oathbinder?”

“No,” he shook his head.  “At least, only partially.  I received a summons to meet with Lady Wynathra.”

“That was to be expected, as you requested to speak with her.”

“But she told me to meet as soon as possible,” he added.  “It sounds urgent.  Combine that with the urukkai Mathias found on the High Road…”

Geltheriel frowned.  “Indeed, it does sound as if there is trouble,” she agreed.  “Oathbinder, we must go as quickly as possible.”

“We?”

“Of course, we.  The Stronghold is no longer secure for us.  Perhaps you should recall the Furor and Juggernaut and summon your Companion.  If the Lady of the House of Blades is concerned, then perhaps we should all be.”

The House of Blades was the home of the guards of Eredain, and as such, it resembled a fortification as much as it did anything.  It was wide, solid, and lacked windows near the ground.  Its crenellated roof bristled with siege weaponry, and a squad of four guards stood before the thick doors.  Aranos tensed involuntarily as the party neared the sentries; the first time he’d been here, they’d basically arrested him.  This time, though, they saluted respectfully. 

“Lord Evenshade,” one of the guards inclined his head.  “Welcome.  You are expected, although not with such an entourage.”

“My party,” he shrugged.  “I assume they can enter?”

“Of course, my Lord.  You will vouch for their behavior?”

“I will.”

“Then enter and be welcome.  I have been informed that the Lady Wynathra awaits your pleasure at your first convenience.”

In other words, he translated, get to her as fast as possible.

“Do you mind having someone escort us?  I was only there once, and it wasn’t under the best of circumstances.”

“I will guide you, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel assured him.  “I have visited Lady Wynathra on occasion and know the way.”

They left most of the party in the entry hall, and only Aranos, Geltheriel, and Silma in her wolf form made their way past the lines of elves waiting to speak to the guards and into the rear area.  They got a few curious glances as they walked through the halls, but apparently word had been passed that they were coming – that, or his reputation was sufficient to deter suspicion.  Either way, no one attempted to stop them, and they made their way to Wynathra’s office without incident.  They were ushered in immediately, and Aranos noticed that there was a new officer sitting in the entry to Wynathra’s inner chamber.  Madris, the former Captain, had been killed during the Shadowborn incursion that accompanied Keryth’s attempt to enslave the city, as Aranos recalled, and as far as the Sorcerer was concerned, the city was well rid of the man.

“Lord Evenshade,” the man sitting behind the desk rose to his feet from as he spoke, his sandy blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail and his expression very serious.  “Lady Wynathra is waiting for you.”  The man walked over to what looked like a blank wall and touched it.  A hidden door clicked open, and the man stepped aside.  “This way, if you please.”

Aranos walked through the doorway, breathing a silent sigh of relief.  Some part of him had worried that Golloron was planning to have him arrested, but if that were the case, they wouldn’t be letting him into Wynathra’s office.  The head of the guards of Eredain sat behind her desk, her focus on a paper in her hand, her other hand swiping absently at her short, lavender hair.  Aranos cleared his throat, and the woman looked up at once, her dark blue eyes showing a moment of startlement followed by instant recognition. 

“Lord Evenshade,” the woman breathed, her face showing visible relief.  “Welcome back to Eredain, and my thanks for responding so swiftly.”

“It sounded urgent, Lady Wynathra,” he smiled at her.  “However, before we speak, I have something I have to tell you.”

The woman’s eyes played across his face, and her shoulders slumped.  “The Lieutenant?”

“She – she died,” he swallowed as another dull pain flashed across his heart.

“In battle?” the woman asked simply.

“Yes.  The qualintar that held Antas – she died helping me defeat him.”

“Then she died in service to the Light, and the Light’s blessings will fall upon her,” the woman sighed.  Perhaps seeing the look of surprise and outrage on Aranos’ face, the woman shook her head.  “Lord Evenshade, I deal with the death of those who serve me daily.”  She reached to her desk and grabbed a thick sheaf of papers.  “These are the death notices I must sign for this week.  They will be sent to the families of the slain and must serve as comfort, for it is all I have time to give.”  She sighed again.  “I will prepare another for Lord and Lady Miradan.”

“I spoke to Lord Ruvyn already,” Aranos said quietly as he realized the tremendous burden the woman was under.

“Then you have my thanks, for they deserve to hear it from other than a piece of parchment.” 

He stared at her for a moment.  “That’s not a normal amount of deaths, is it?” he asked quietly.

“No, it is not, Lord Evenshade,” she slumped back into her chair.  “It is many times the number I would usually write, for my people are serving a duty for which they are ill-suited.”

“What duty is that?”

“My Warriors are guards, my Lord.  They are excellent at defending our walls, keeping order, and dispensing justice.”  She smacked her hand on her desk.  “They are not soldiers, however, and they are being forced to serve as such.”

“Why?” he asked.  “The urukkai that my people told me about?”

“In part, yes.  When your Travelers brought back that information, it should have been sufficient to call the army in, or at least to bring in a brigade to chase the urukkai back to Cendarta.”

“The Elder did not call them?” Geltheriel asked quietly.

“I – I am unsure,’ Wynathra admitted with a grimace.  “I sent my report to the Elder, with the request that he summon the army, as only he has the authority to do so.”  She shook her head.  “I received no reply, neither affirmation nor denial.  My own scouts and those of Captain Dorn’ar’el of the House of Twilight report that the urukkai move to occupy the waystations along the High Road; should they hold those in force, they could move swiftly to our borders and strike before our forces could be summoned.”

She rubbed her eyes tiredly.  “In desperation, Dorn’ar’el and I have been combining our limited forces, attempting to waylay what patrols we can on the High Road and deny those waystations to the urukkai.  The casualties have been – excessive, for neither my guards nor his Keepers are trained for this sort of warfare.”

“We can retake the waystations,” Aranos told her softly.  “My people and I.”

“And then the urukkai will move to reoccupy them,” she sighed.  “That is the battle we have been facing.  And these are merely skirmishes.  Should the urukkai put an army in the field…”  She shuddered.

“No, I can take them and make sure the urukkai can’t have them,” he told her.  “I can Redeem them; the urukkai would avoid them after that.  I can also make them outposts of Antas, so they’d be warded against the Shadowborn.”

The woman’s face looked hopeful for the first time.  “Is that true?  It would not hold off an urukkai army, but if they could not use the waystations to resupply, they would suffer losses along the High Roads and would be much weakened when they arrived at our doorstep.  If that were so, then my people and the Captain’s may be enough to hold them out.”

“Hasn’t anyone heard anything from Golloron?” Aranos asked neutrally, ignoring the notification that started blinking in his vision.

“Not that I am aware, and I have made every effort to speak to him, Lord Evenshade.  Perhaps you will have more success; you are the Savior of Eredain and the Hero of Antas.  Surely, he could not turn you away!”

“I can try,” Aranos shrugged, putting aside his misgivings.  Whatever his feelings for Golloron, if the Elder was shirking his duties and the city was suffering, he had to try and speak to him.  “I can’t promise anything more than that, though.”

“The attempt is all I can request,” she sighed.  “And it is why I asked you here.  I will send a message to the Captain of the Keepers and inform him of your return, and of your assistance in this matter.  Know that we are both grateful for your intervention.”

“I’m happy to help,” he smiled.  “In fact, I’ll go now.”

“You have my thanks, Lord Evenshade,” she smiled with genuine relief, rising to her feet.  “More than you may know.”

As the party exited the House of Blades, Aranos’ mind was churning.  The notification, as he’d suspected, was an offered Quest to Redeem the Eredain waystations, one he accepted then immediately dismissed; Golloron’s absence was a greater concern.  While Aranos knew the Elder was somewhat cavalier about how he treated his people, he couldn’t imagine that the elf wouldn’t simply abandon them.  And yet, it seemed that was exactly what had happened.

“That is consistent with what I learned from Grandmaster Kylantha,” Rhys said when they detailed their conversation.  “There was great joy in the House of the Sickle at Miwango’s presence – and Glorferdir’s, of course, although for different reasons.  The rewards for bringing back the knowledge of Awakenings was sufficient to restore my lost level, but my greater joy was the hope of bringing this news to the rest of the Elven Realms.  The Grandmaster told me that was not possible at the moment, for our Elder – who might pass such knowledge – had vanished and could not be found.  It is most puzzling, and the House of the Sickle is deeply concerned.”

What was Golloron doing?  Why was he ignoring his city this way?  What could be more important to him than his people?  Despite everything, Aranos still believed that Golloron had his people’s best interests at heart, even if just for selfish reasons.  He didn’t want his people conquered by the urukkai or swallowed by the Darkness.  So, why wasn’t he acting?

Because he wants to be their savior, the thought flashed in his mind with sudden clarity.  I’ll bet that’s why he didn’t stop Keryth, too.  He figured Keryth would beat me, and he’d swoop in and save everyone.  Now, maybe he’s letting the urukkai get close enough that he can save the city at the last minute.

That was a dangerous strategy, if true.  Golloron could probably handle a few urukkai, or even a few hundred – Aranos could, if he really had to and wasn’t worried about conserving his SP – but an entire army?  That was beyond Aranos’ abilities, and he guessed it would be more than the Elder could handle, as well.  If the army came, and Golloron couldn’t stop them, then the elf could lose everything, including his own city.

As they passed through the city into the Great Square, Aranos became aware of a strange muttering passing through the crowd of elves around them.  He focused his thoughts and listened, shifting his Charisma into Perception until the sounds became clear.

“Lord Evenshade,” he heard someone mutter.

“He has returned,” another spoke

The muttering swelled, growing louder as word of his presence rippled through the growing crowd.  Aranos tensed; he’d faced the elves’ hostility before, when he and Geltheriel had returned from Haerobel, and while he no longer feared it, he didn’t want to hurt anyone.  He gathered mana, summoning a Spatial Web and holding it ready just in case, but before he could cast anything, a cry erupted from the massed elves.

“The Savior of Eredain!” someone shouted gleefully.  “He is returned!”

“The Hero of Antas!” another screamed, their voice joyful.

“He has returned!”  “He will protect us!”

Shouts of joy and cheers roared from the crowd, rolling over Aranos and freezing him in shock. 

“They know you, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel spoke quietly.  “They know, and they are grateful.”

“Have you come to restore our Elder?” someone shouted.

“I’m going to see if I can meet with him now,” Aranos called out.  “I’ll do my best to find out what’s wrong.”

“The Elder has abandoned us!” someone else shouted.

“The Savior can be our Elder!”

“The Savior of Eredain!”  The call was picked up across the square, the echoes rising to the highest levels of the city.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the city, followed by a series of deafening crashes, and the chants fell into terrified silence.

Golloron, Elder of Eredain, Grandmaster Mindbender, and holder of the Domain of Destruction, was frustrated.

He had known that the Traveler was back, of course.  The notice that the Sorcerer had restored Danastor to its former glory was plastered in the eyes of every elf in the Elven Realms, and it had disturbed Golloron from his meditations once more.  He’d been alerted that someone wished to erect a Great Portal near Eredain, as well; he’d been tempted to refuse its construction, but that was short-sighted.  The portal would be useful for trade and travel, and it was a convenient way for Golloron to strike at the Traveler’s distant city should the need arise.  His ever-weakening bond with the Tree-heart had warned him that another Heart-bonded was in his city, and he’d even seen the notice that House Evenshade had allied with that fool of an Enchanter Faraine.

House Evenshade.  Those words were bitter in his mouth.  Giving the Traveler a noble House had been a mistake.  Golloron had expected the fledgling House to be swarmed over and brought down in a week by larger, more predatory Houses, but he’d underestimated everyone’s fear and awe of Travelers.  Those he’d spoken to and subtly urged to work against the Traveler would not be pushed into open warfare, except for a few fools from House Luzeiros, and they had botched the job badly.  Instead, the Traveler found a way to grow his House and attracted more followers every day.  His Travelers grew stronger at an unbelievable rate, and already even Elder Houses were speaking of making overtures to this young, unknown, unremarkable House.  It was absurd!

Except that was not absurd; it was actually quite logical.  The Traveler was the Savior of Eredain, the Hero of Antas.  He was beloved across the city – Golloron’s city! – and people whispered of his imminent return.  Rumors of the urukkai gathering had spread, and the citizens were living in fear once more.  This time, though, they weren’t turning to Golloron for salvation; they were looking for the Traveler!

The ebb in the energy his people provided the Heart hadn’t made the task of regaining mastery of his Domain any simpler, and in truth, Golloron felt he was losing that battle.  His hard-won control was fading, not growing, and he no longer felt safe showing his face in public.  The indestructible treated oilairie wood wouldn’t survive exposure to his Domain; buildings would crumble, defenses would collapse, and eventually his Domain would consume the city.  Even worse, each day, Golloron found that concept a bit less disturbing as his Domain worked to control his thoughts. 

It was utterly, completely, and totally unfair.  He, Golloron, had labored to keep this city safe for a century and longer.  He had sacrificed his own people for the greater good, reached into their hearts and minds and guided them on the path they needed to walk.  He was their bulwark against the Darkness – him, not some upstart Traveler!  What did the Sorcerer know of struggle, of balancing the least of evils, of allowing the few to perish for the good of the many?  This urukkai army gathered because the Traveler had Liberated and Redeemed Antas; the Darkness no longer wanted that city, as its touch would be deadly to the Shadowborn, so the urukkai would march to claim a price in blood, elven blood.

And yet, with all that, Golloron was slowly failing.  His Heart-bond was so weakened by the effects of his Domain that he barely felt it at all.  His mind slowly filled with thoughts of destruction and death, and the aura of his power crept a bit larger each day.  Eventually, his Bond would break, and he would lose control completely, becoming a menace to all in the Light.  When that day came, he would flee, and his good name would be forever ruined…

So, when the chants of “Savior of Eredain” rose into his ears, Golloron could take no more.  The gates holding back his power slammed open, and the rush of Destruction tore into his carefully crafted wards, shredding them in an explosion of energy and debris.  The oilairie wood surrounding him was reduced to a cloud of splinters that suited him at a deep level, bringing a mad grin to his face.  He rose from the cloud of dust and ash and floated above the ground, no longer restraining his power. 

The Traveler will pay.

His Bond fluttered tremulously in his grasp, but it was strong enough that he could tell where the crowd had gathered: the Great Square.  He swooped down toward the throng, not bothering to use the passages designed for this purpose; when a barrier stood in his way, his power lashed out and obliterated it, heedless of who or what might suffer in the process.  That was the force of Destruction, and it cared nothing for petty mortal concerns such as life and death. 

He floated above the crowd, realizing idly that much of his city was gathered below, staring at him with terrified eyes.  He didn’t care; he only had eyes for one person.

“Traveler!” he roared, his voice thrumming with the power of Destruction.  “Come to me, and meet your doom!”

Chapter 33

Screams rose around the Great Square as elves pushed and jostled one another in their frantic attempts to flee the enraged Elder.  Golloron glowed with power; Aranos didn’t even need to use his Mana Sight to see the waves of energy radiating off him.  The elf floated high above the square, his silver hair lifted from his shoulders by an invisible breeze, his eyes glowing with a strange, gray light, and sparks of energy crackling along his outstretched arms.  An eerie, twisted grin spread across his face, and his expression was one of pure madness. 

“Golloron, what are you doing?” Aranos shouted, summoning his Mage Shield to hang before him and gesturing for the party to spread out.  Mutroda took position before him, her buckler upraised and her halberd set, while Geltheriel and Silma, who flashed into her true form, fanned out to the sides to flank the clearly enraged Elder. 

“Destroying you!” the elf roared, hurling a blast of silver fire toward the Sorcerer.  Aranos braced to take it on his Mage Shield, but to his surprise, Mutroda stepped forward and slashed with her shield, batting the fiery missile up and into the air, where it struck a building with a roar of fire and destruction.  The impact knocked the dwarf back several steps, but she shook her shield arm and resumed her position grimly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Aranos demanded, his mind reeling.  He knew that Golloron hated him, but the idea that the Elder would attack him so openly had never occurred to him.

“You are what is wrong, Traveler!” the elf cackled, unleashing a sheet of lightning at the Sorcerer.  Aranos hurled a cone of Ash at the incoming arcs of electricity, and the two opposing energies met in an explosion of power that made him shield his eyes momentarily.  When the radiance faded, though, both Ash and Lightning had vanished.  That took a lot more SP than it should have, Aranos realized grimly.  This isn’t going to be easy.

“You dare come to my city – mine! – and usurp my position?” the Elder continued, seemingly uncaring that Aranos had negated his attack.  “’Savior of Eredain’?  I was preserving this Stronghold for a century before you arrived, and I will continue to guard it long after you are gone!”

“Preserve it?” Aranos demanded, feeling a flash of anger rising within him.  “You call what you’ve been doing guarding your people?  You’ve been feeding them to the Darkness as tribute!”  A murmur ran through the crowd, mostly disbelieving, but Aranos heard some speculative comments, as well.  That was good; if he was ever going to defeat Golloron, he needed to discredit him, first. 

“To save the lives of the many!” the elf roared, hurling more fiery missiles at the Sorcerer.  Once again, Mutroda stepped forward and batted some away, but this time the impact knocked her sprawling, and Aranos felt the remainder slam into his Mage Shield with terrific force.  His Shield shuddered and shivered beneath the onslaught – but it held, at least for the moment.  A few more of those, and it won’t, though, he realized grimly.

Outcries and protests rang through the square at Golloron’s words, and Aranos heard elven voices raised in anger and anguish.  “Silence!” the Elder roared, sending a wave of fire rolling over the heads of the gathered people, silencing them instantly.  “You know nothing of what I’ve sacrificed to hold back the Darkness!  You think we hold this city through force of arms?  Through bravery, and devotion to the Light?  Bah!”  The elves looked frightened now; this wasn’t their beloved Elder before them, but a figure of awe and power that could obliterate them if he chose.  And as crazy as he seems to be right now, I wouldn’t put it past him, Aranos thought grimly. 

“The Darkness defeated the Light!” Golloron screamed, his voice rolling over the city.  “You may not wish to hear this, but it is true!  The Nightmare Beasts roamed our land, obliterating our cities and destroying our armies, and what aid did the Light give us?  None!  We were doomed, all the races of the Light…and so, we made a choice.  A choice to survive.”

He looked back at Aranos with undisguised hatred.  “And that choice kept us alive for centuries, Traveler.  Centuries of peace, in return for what?  A few hundred lives spent each year, a paltry number of sacrifices of blood and death so that the Darkness would be satiated and leave us in peace.  What are those to the existence of the entire Elven Realms?”

“You could have fought back!” Aranos shouted in reply.  “The way I did!  The Darkness can be beaten; it can be driven back.  The Light can be reclaimed!”

“You think you have achieved victories, Sorcerer?” Golloron laughed, the sound high-pitched and maniacal.  “You have but hastened all our deaths!  Even now, the urukkai gather on the High Roads, preparing to march on Eredain.  The southern forests are no longer Blighted, but they are infested with powerful beasts we had not seen in long years, those who were held back by my sacrifices.”

“And we’ll fight the urukkai, and kill those beasts,” Aranos declared.  “We’ll turn them back, retake the High Roads, and reclaim Cendarta!”

“And then, what will the Darkness send?” Golloron screamed.  “There are vast legions of Shadowborn in the Blood Realms, armies millions strong, and should you prove successful?  They will march!  They will come to our shores and raze our cities, exterminate or enslave our people!  You bring doom upon us all!”

“You’re selling your people into slavery already!” Aranos retorted hotly.  “They lived in fear and terror, day after day, knowing that every night could be their last!  They huddled in their homes, fearing the night and the Darkness.  You clung to what you had, losing a little every day, but never retaking anything – and your people are tired of it!”

Aranos cast his Flight Spell and rose into the air to face Golloron.  “Do you know why your own people call me savior, Golloron?  Because they had lost all hope in the Light, and I gave it back to them!  I showed that the Darkness can be defeated; I proved that what was lost can be reclaimed.”  He shook his head angrily.  “Your people finally sleep soundly at night, and you want to take that away from them?  To return them to that life of terror and fear?”

“No!” a voice shouted from the crowd below.  “No, I won’t go back to that!”

“No more death!” another screamed.

“The Savior speaks the truth!  Golloron wants to enslave us!”

Aranos stared at the Elder as the shouts and screams rose angrily from the crowd.  “Do you hear them, Golloron?” he asked, just loud enough for the elf to hear him over the throng.  “Those are your people, and they want more than that life of fear you offered.”  He floated slightly closer to the silent Elder.  “It’s not too late, though.  You want your city back?  You want to be their savior again?  Then don’t fight me – help me!  Use the Heart’s energy to reclaim the Blightlands.  Stand with me against the urukkai.  Be the person you want these people to think you are, don’t just twist their minds to fool them into believing it!”

Golloron’s face grew suddenly sad, and for a moment, the gray fire dimmed in his eyes.  “I once thought as you, Traveler,” he admitted.  “When I was young, I believed I could change the world and make the Light triumphant.  And then, I learned this harsh truth: the Light is no more.  It is vanished from our world, and if the gods still exist, they no longer care.”

The harshness returned to his face, and his eyes blazed once more.  “My way is the only way, Traveler,” he snarled.  “And you stand in my way!  All that oppose me must be destroyed!” 

The bolt of fire that roared out of Golloron’s hands shattered Aranos’ Mage Shield and slammed into his armor, sending him flying across the square.  His Arcane Armor held, and he halted his headlong tumble with a thought, but he felt a touch of fear; the Elder was enormously powerful.  How can I beat him? he thought desperately. 

Immediately, he knew the answer: he couldn’t.  At least, he couldn’t beat the elf alone.  He needed his party’s help, and they were trapped on the ground.  This aerial battle robbed Aranos of one of his strengths, his companions.  So, we need to take this down to the ground.

He accelerated toward Golloron like a rocket, raising his hands and firing twin Maelstrom Blasts.  Each was laced with opposing Aspects, lava mixed with ice and radiant mingled with ooze.  The conflicting energies smashed into an invisible barrier surrounding the Mindbender, eating into his shield in a roiling snarl of negating energies, but the field of force seemed unaffected. 

“You think that trick will work against me?” the Elder laughed, shaking his head.  “I witnessed you use this on Keryth, Traveler.  I have come prepared to deal with you.”

“I thought you might,” Aranos grinned as he zoomed around the elf, raining death on his seemingly impenetrable barrier.  “Thing is, I’m not really worried about your shield.”  As he spoke, his invisible mana tendril found the threads of Golloron’s flight Spell.  It was finely crafted, but Aranos had noticed a weakness in the Elder’s spellcraft when he restored Rhys.  The man had great power and incredible skill, but he had a tendency to leave his Spells not quite finished.  His probing mind found a tiny flaw in the arcane construction, pried it out, and yanked the mana out of it – and Golloron let out a surprised cry as he tumbled to the ground with a crash.

“You think to bring me low so easily?” Golloron screamed, his eyes focused on the airborne Sorcerer.  “I can restore my Spell with a thought…”

The elf broke off with a cry of pain as a shadowy blade slipped through his barrier and slashed across his back, leaving a faint line of blood, followed by two more grazing blows in quick succession as Geltheriel materialized behind him.  Tendrils of fire smashed into her, but she leaped back into the shadows and vanished, reappearing several feet away looking slightly scorched.  Golloron turned to face the woman, but a rumbling cry tore his attention toward the charging Mutroda.  The Elder’s barrier shivered as the woman struck it, then shattered beneath the power of her Unstoppable Ability.  Golloron dodged swiftly, allowing the woman to rush past, and leveled his hand, power blazing in his fist, but Aranos unleashed a Kinetic Barrage on his unshielded form that smashed into his invisible armor with a terrific explosion, sending the elf flying backward.  As he flipped to his feet, Silma struck him from behind, her glowing teeth worrying at his armor fruitlessly.   Golloron lashed out with a rope of lightning, and Silma yelped in pain and vanished, teleporting out of range.  Her muscles twitched and shivered as she reappeared with a scorch mark on her side, but she recovered herself quickly.

“Enough of this!” Golloron roared, and a wave of fire burst from him, hurling everyone but Mutroda back and tumbling them to the ground.  He held up his hand, and two glowing gems appeared in his open palm.  “You are not the only one with allies, Traveler!”  He hurled the gems to the ground, and they shattered in a flash of light.  Instantly, two creatures of nightmare stood before the elf, looking at the party with eager expressions.  One, Aranos recognized as a rakshasa from the night he’d first returned to Eredain, but the other he was forced to Inspect:

Furauro
Unwounded

The rakshasa looked like a ten-foot-tall, humanoid tiger with black fur, wreathed in flames.  The furauro was shaped roughly like a large, hairless wolf covered in blood-red skin, save it had six legs rather than four, its head was broader and flatter with a wider muzzle, and it had a long, scaly tail with a sharp point at the end.  The rakshasa leaped at Geltheriel, its flames stretching out and trying to engulf the Shadedancer, while the furauro charged Silma, snapping with blood-dripping jaws and lashing out with its tail.

Aranos had no time to come to his party’s aid as Golloron unleashed a massive wave of ice that crashed toward him.  His hand shot out and bathed the ice in Thermal mana, carving a hole through the center and reducing it to steam, then fired three Kinetic Bullets at the elf that shattered against his newly restored barrier.  “Mutroda, help Geltheriel!” he shouted.

“No chance, Sorcerer,” the dwarf growled as she batted away another fiery blast.  “We all know this is the real battle; you beat him, and those things won’t matter.”

He ground his teeth in frustration and summoned a Mage Shield to absorb a dozen arcs of black, ropy Void mana the Elder sent his way.  He fired another pair of Kinetic Bullets, this time carefully targeting them at the same spot on Golloron’s shield and using his Multishot Ability to clone each Bullet into five.  At the same time, he summoned a Gravity Well behind the elf.  Golloron cursed as he was pulled from his feet, distracting him for an instant before he lashed out and disjoined Aranos’ Spell – and in that instant of distraction, Aranos’ Bullets crashed into the elf’s barrier, chewing into it and finally punching through to strike the elf’s armor…and slip through, piercing his flesh as Aranos’ Shattering Magic Ability kicked in. 

Golloron swore as blood spurted from his wounded shoulder and hurled twin waves of fire and ice at Aranos, crushing his Mage Shield.  Mutroda managed to endure the blast of fire, but the ice smashed into her and sent her flying backwards.  Aranos responded with twin blasts of arctic and thermal mana, snuffing the fire and flashing the ice into steam, then hurled a Kinetic Barrage from his chest directly at the Elder.  The elf flew back but quickly righted himself, lashing at Aranos with a whip of black flames.  The Sorcerer’s hastily raised Mage Shield diverted the first strike, and Mutroda lunged forward to parry the second and third.

Golloron looked at the dwarf with a smile.  “Come, Priestess,” he purred at her.  “This is not your battle.  Put down your weapons and return to your caves.  There is no need for you to die for this topsider.”

Mutroda staggered as if visibly struck, and Aranos shifted his Mana Sight to see the waves of Mind and Nature mana pouring from the Elder and battering the thin protection of the helm he’d given her.  “No,” she gasped, taking a step back. “I won’t…won’t give up!”

Aranos reached out with a Spell of his own, trying to wrap her thoughts in a shield of Mind mana.  It was like trying to build a dam in the middle of a raging river; the torrent of power rushing at the woman threatened to shatter his construct even as he built it.  He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, driving the Spell with his will.  Golloron’s power bore down on him, but he shoved it away, straining as if trying to lift a mountain.  Suddenly, he felt the flood of energy shift; the crush of power receded, for only an instant before slamming down on him once more.  In that instant, though, he pushed forward, driving the torrent back.  Again, Golloron’s will rebounded from his own, and again he shoved against it, inexorably reclaiming Mutroda’s thoughts from the Mindbender.  The Elder’s power surged powerfully, but he held against it, and as it ebbed, he slammed his Spell into place. 

Mutroda immediately straightened as Golloron’s will battered futilely against the barrier Aranos had erected.  The Elder’s face darkened with anger, and Aranos felt his efforts redouble.  “Drop your weapons and flee, dwarf!” he roared.

“No, you stupid elf!” she shouted back, hefting her shield and halberd.  “You want the Sorcerer?  You’re going through me!”

Golloron staggered and shook his head as his Spell backfired, but he seemed to shrug off the debuff effortlessly.  “No, I think I’ll just take his will myself,” the elf purred.  “You’ll serve me well, Traveler.” 

The Elder’s eyes met Aranos, and the Sorcerer had just enough time to slam his Mental Shroud around his thoughts before the Elder’s will bore into him.  Aranos shuddered; the elf’s power was an avalanche, slowly burying him, crushing his mind from every direction.  He pushed hard with his will, but the inexorable pressure bore down on him, battering aside his attempts to resist it. 

No! a tiny voice within him shouted as the elf’s will tried to grasp his own.  Rage blazed within him – Golloron was trying to control him!  To master him!  The rage exploded into a conflagration of golden energy.  Aranos would not be mastered; he would not be tamed!  He hadn’t surrendered to Lythienne, to Morx, even to the Darkness itself; he wouldn’t be beaten by this elf! 

Power exploded in his mind, shattering Golloron’s Spell and hurling the torn remnants of the construct almost contemptuously back at the elf.  Golloron screamed and clutched his head in both hands, falling to one knee.  Aranos raised his hand, and a torrent of mingled energies slammed into the Elder, knocking him backward and ripping into his flesh.  Aranos’ Maelstrom Blast hadn’t been well aimed, but it ate at Golloron’s unwounded shoulder and crawled up to his face, blistering his left cheek.

The Elder roared in pain and stumbled backwards; a moment later, he screamed again as Geltheriel’s shadowy blade erupted from the shoulder Aranos had just wounded.  The blade cut upward with a spray of blood and gore, and the elf’s left arm fell limply to his side as the tendons were severed.  Aranos glanced at where the Shadedancer had been battling the rakshasa; the creature’s flames were dying now, and nothing was left but a crumpled pile of tattered flesh. 

Golloron lifted his good hand toward the Shadedancer, but at that moment a howl echoed across the square, followed by a pulse of blue-white light that slammed into Golloron, piercing his shield and dropping him to his knees.  A moment later, Silma flickered into view, her fur streaked with blood, favoring one foreleg, but her head held low and a growl rumbling in her throat.

“Impossible!” Golloron shouted, staring at the torn remains of the furauro.  “These creatures – you do not have the power…”

“You underestimate us all, Elder,” Rhys spoke, his voice barely audible over the screams and sobs of the gathered elves.  “We are more than we once were.”

“You cannot divide us,” Geltheriel added, her gleaming, white blade held ready.  Much of her hair had been scorched off, and burns covered the right side of her body, blackening her armor, but her expression was grim and implacable as death.  “We stand with my Oathbinder, even unto death if needed.  If you face one of us, you face us all.”

“So be it!” Golloron screamed, and a wave of gray power exploded from him, slamming into the party.  The dwarf stumbled and fell, her armor suddenly cracked and corroded, and Geltheriel was flung backward, her already damaged armor peeling off in strips.  Silma vanished but reappeared an instant later, staggering as patches of her fur fell from her hide like rain; only Rhys was far enough back to remain untouched by the dreadful power the Elder had unleashed.

Aranos’ Mage Shield buckled and shattered as the energy touched it, and his Arcane Armor shuddered into fragments.  Aranos stopped, stunned, and tried to renew his armor; the moment he cast the Spell, however, a torrent of gray power ripped it apart almost effortlessly.  He raised his hand and fired a Kinetic Bullet, but the projectile unraveled and shattered moments after leaving his hand.

Golloron rose slowly to his feet, the feral grin once more plastered to his face.  His hair was half burnt-off, one shoulder bled freely, while the other was a scorched mass of raw flesh that matched that side of his face, but he didn’t seem to be aware of his injuries.  “I must say, Traveler, that was the most difficult battle I’ve fought in two centuries.  You’ve become powerful – but not powerful enough.”  As he spoke, the elf flicked another series of fiery meteors at Aranos, who tried vainly to raise a barrier of any kind.  His Mage Shield flickered and died; the Earth Wall he summoned crumbled to dust.  He dodged to the side, allowing the first few meteors to streak past him and explode somewhere behind him, but the last three slammed into his body.

Aranos gritted his teeth as the fiery missiles erupted, scorching his flesh and hurling him backward to roll helplessly across the ground.  Adrenaline spiked in his body, boosting his Physical Stats as his Fortitude Skill numbed the pain of the explosion, but his LP dropped by 30% from that single attack. 

He looked up and saw Geltheriel spring at the elf, her white blade ringing against his armor, but her shadowy blade dissolved into black mists the moment it appeared.  Golloron gestured almost impatiently at the woman, and a wave of force slammed into her chest, sending her flying across the square.  She crumpled to the ground, moving only weakly, and Aranos watched helplessly as Rhys hurried over to the fallen woman, power glowing in his hands.

Silma charged the Wizard, but a cage of glowing, ebon energy appeared around her, trapping her in place.  Her form flickered as she tried to teleport out of the elf’s Spell, but she was held fast.  Snarling, she began to worry at the cage with her glowing fangs, but Aranos knew she wouldn’t escape in time to join this fight.

He tensed as he saw that the elf was unleashing even more of the fiery missiles, and he struggled to his feet, preparing to dodge.  Before he could move, Mutroda sprang into the path of the missiles.  Her shield took the first three before it cracked and burst into shards; the remaining projectiles slammed into her armor, cracking it and knocking her back a step.  The dwarf roared in pain, but she held her ground.  “I told you, elf, you want him, you’re going through me!”

“Impressive armor,” Golloron smiled, his face now glowing with the gray light that emanated him.  “Not many materials can last that long under the touch of Destruction – not even my city.”  He swept his hands around, and Aranos noticed that all around the Elder, the hardened oilairie wood had cracked and crumbled into sawdust.

“A Domain,” he gasped, trying to hurl a ball of Gravity at the elf to knock him off his feet.  The Spell simply shivered and dissolved harmlessly in the air, never even getting close to the elf.  “You’ve got a Domain.”

“Perceptive of you.  Yes, I am the master of Destruction – one of the most powerful Domains, and one of the most dangerous.  Destruction is the antithesis of magic, Traveler.  It shatters all substances, unwinds all Spells, and severs all bindings.  Given time, I could unmake all of Ka – or even the Darkness itself!”

“Then why haven’t you?” Mutroda growled.  “Seems like a worthy goal.”

“Because he’s afraid of his Domain,” Aranos said with sudden understanding.  “If it shatters all things, won’t it destroy your city?  Undo the wards surrounding it?  You say it severs all bonds – what about your Bond to the Tree-heart, Golloron?”

“Yes, Traveler, my domain is – unhealthy for my Bond,” the elf admitted, flicking a lash of lightning at the pair before him.  Aranos tried to dodge, but the lightning found him, burning into his body, trying to make his muscles seize up.  He pushed the feeling away, forcing himself to remain erect.  LP below 50%.  This isn’t going to end well.

Mutroda had dropped to the ground but struggled back to her feet and placed herself between the two spellcasters once more.  Golloron shook his head.  “Do you have no sense of self-preservation, dwarf?” he asked.  “There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Do what you have to, elf, but I’ll do what I can to take you with me,” She growled.  “This I swear by the Stone.”

The Stone, Aranos suddenly thought, a brief spike of hope flashing through him.  I wonder…   Hurriedly, he sent a silent message to Rhys and received an affirmative reply; it wouldn’t be easy to make this work, but it might be possible, if Golloron’s Domain needed his active will to function.  Cautiously, Aranos sent a questing tendril of mana out.  He felt the inimical energies of Destruction surround the tendril, nibbling away at it, but it wasn’t the indomitable force he’d feared.  He suppressed a grin as he stretched the probe out, finding what he sought, and began to build.

Golloron ignored the dwarf, his focus entirely on Aranos.  “Fortunately, Traveler, there is a solution to my dilemma.  Once I’ve killed you, though – perhaps for the last time, who knows? – I’ll be able to regain control of my Domain, reestablish my Bond.   With it, I can take the memories of all this from my people and return them to what they were before.  I can take their memories of you, Traveler; you will be the Savior of Eredain no longer.”

The elf lifted his hand, and Aranos paled as he saw the massive upswelling of power gathering in the man’s palm.  I’m not ready, he thought desperately.  If I can’t dodge this – then there’s no chance!  He tensed himself, ready to spring, and the massive gout of power exploded from the elf’s hand, rushing toward him.  Mutroda moved, trying to intercept it, but before she could, an armored figure leaped before her.

“House Evenshade!” Mathias the Lancer shouted as the elder’s Spell slammed into his upraised shield, hurling him backward.  The shield shivered and cracked beneath the force of the blow, but the Warrior rolled to his feet, his spear at the ready.  “Defend our Patriarch!”

Shouts and cries erupted around the Square as Travelers swarmed forward, arrows and Spells flashing toward Golloron.  The Elder seemed taken aback and stood silently, letting the assaults batter ineffectively at his barrier, but then the crazed smile returned to his face.  “Yes, Travelers, come die with your leader,” he said mockingly.  “It will be a pleasure to destroy you!”

Silver fire erupted from the elf, but before it could reach the players, a wall of thorns erupted from the ground around the Elder, absorbing the fire before cracking and crumbling to dust beneath the force of his Domain.  “Hold, Elder of Eredain,” a voice crackled across the Square, and the crowd parted as a group of robed figures pushed forward.  Aranos recognized the ancient, wizened face of Grandmaster Kylantha, the head of the House of the Sickle, at their forefront.  “Lord Evenshade is under the protection of the House of the Sickle, and we will not let you harm him!”

“So be it,” Golloron snarled.  “All who stand in my path will be destroyed…”

“Then you must slay us, as well, Elder,” a deep, mellow voice spoke, and Dorn’ar’el, Captain of the Keepers, strode into the Square, with a hundred Warriors at his back.  The man was tall, muscular, and had silver hair streaked with black.  His face was grim but determined as he spoke.  “We stand with House Evenshade, and we will allow no harm to come to them.”

“Nor will we, Elder,” Wyanthra’s voice echoed, as she led a company of armored guards to stand before the enraged elf.  “The House of Blades heard of your treachery, and we charge you with treason against the Light.  Stand down, and you will be judged fairly.”

“You, judge me?” Golloron roared with laughter.  “You fools, I could kill all of you, but I will have no need.  How many times have I reached into your thoughts through the Tree-heart?  How many times have I erased memories inconvenient to me, or guided you in the correct path?  So long as I am the Heart-bonded of Eredain…”

“Then maybe it’s time you weren’t anymore,” Aranos said, walking forward to face the elf.  “Maybe it’s time Eredain had a new Bonded Elder.”

“You think you can sever my Bond, Sorcerer?” the elf laughed.  “Perhaps because you tore the Heart of Antas from Zoridos’ grasp?  The qualintar was a fool; I am not.  You will not be able…”

“No, not me,” Aranos shook his head.  “I think it’s time that Eredain decided for itself.  Rhys, now!”

Golloron’s eyes went wide, and he spun to see the green-haired Druid standing over the hidden covering to the Tree-heart.  The Heart Guardians stood impassively aside, their eyes burning into the Elder with mingled fury and contempt, shielding the Druid from their Elder’s wrath.  Rhys reached down into the living wood of the Great Square, and Golloron screamed with rage.

“Druid, no!” he shouted, but it was too late.

Aranos felt a surge of power ripple out of Rhys and pass along the link he’d been carefully and painstakingly building while Golloron raved and ranted.  He’d had to be cautious; if the Elder sensed what he was doing, he would have been able to use his Domain to shatter the link effortlessly.  Fortunately, Golloron had been too caught up in his vengeance against Aranos to notice – and fortunately, the people of Eredain had come to the Sorcerer’s defense.

A sigh seemed to pass through the Stronghold, and Golloron shrieked and clutched his skull, dropping to his knees as a sense of presence descended over the gathered crowd.  Golloron of House Famaris, a deep, fathomless voice rang in everyone’s minds, bringing the entire Stronghold to instant silence.  I am Eredain.

“No – that is not possible!” the Elder shouted in disbelief.  “How could this be?”

Rhys of House Namalis has Awakened me, the voice spoke.  Aided by Aranos, Lord Evenshade.  I am aware, Golloron – and I know how you have used my powers for your own gain.

“No!” the elf protested, staring at the Heart hidden behind the grim guards and the tired-looking Rhys.  “All I did, I did for the people of Eredain!  I protected them, guarded them…”

You used them, Golloron.  Used them as if they were sheep, to garner power, nothing more.  You allowed them to live in fear, to give their lives to the Darkness, so that they would turn to you for salvation – and in so doing, grant more power to me for your use.  All was done for your own aggrandizement, nothing more.

“And what if it was?” Golloron cackled madly.  “A Heart cannot sever its Bond, only choose with whom it will Bond.  I will use you, Eredain, as I have always used you, and none can stop me!”

No, you will not, the voice said implacably.  Aranos felt a sudden shift, as power swelled in the air.  Energy gathered around Golloron, pressing on him – and suddenly, Aranos felt a snap, as if something stronger than steel shattered, and a pulse of energy that rolled out over the city.  The gathered elves shivered as the energy struck them, their eyes going blank and unseeing, and many of them collapsed where they stood, weeping, while others howled in rage.  Aranos stared at the elves blankly; he didn’t understand what was happening. 

I have restored them, Aranos of Evenshade, the voice spoke in his mind .   At least, as best I could.  They know, now, how they were used, and the ill treatment Golloron of Famaris inflicted upon many of them.

“Noooo!” Golloron howled, as the aura of power surrounding him faded considerably.  “No, you cannot!  Eredain, you are mine!”

“No, fallen Elder,” Wynathra said quietly, fury burning in her eyes.  The woman stood tall, but her face was pale and drawn, and she swayed slightly where she stood.  “We are not yours to play with, and we never have been.”

“You have forgotten the first rule of leadership,” Dorn’ar’el spoke in a voice tinged with sorrow.  “He who leads must himself follow.  Otherwise, the path of guidance turns to tyranny.”

“I have done as I must!” Golloron insisted.

“You have done as you wished,” Kylantha corrected in a voice like iron.  “You have chosen the path that provided for you, even at the cost of your own people’s lives.  That ends today.”

“No!” Golloron snarled, gathering power to his hands and spinning to face Aranos.  “Traveler, you have brought this upon me!  You will pay…”

Aranos wove his armor back around him, freed now of the influence of Golloron’s Domain, but he didn’t attack the former Elder.  “I think you’re wrong, Golloron,” he said quietly.  “I think it’s you who’s going to pay, and I think it’s the people of Eredain who are going to demand their due.”

Golloron opened his mouth to speak, but before he did, Aranos felt a sudden pulse in his mind; his Elemental Ward had been activated.  He frowned, then winced as a spike of pain flashed through his skull.  Whatever had activated the Ward had also just torn through it effortlessly, and the Spell backlash rebounded against the barrier of his Fortification Skill.  A roar of pure rage and hate echoed throughout the city, seeming to shake the very foundations of the Stronghold, and Aranos could see a visible wave of fear spread across the gathered crowd. 

Golloron’s face was pale.  “What – this cannot be!” he stammered, staring at Aranos with sudden fear in his eyes, his face instantly bereft of its madness.  “Traveler – the portal you created.  You did not…please tell me you did not leave it active!”

Aranos blinked in surprise; he’d almost forgotten about his portal in all the confusion.  “I – yes, I did.  I have a Quest to keep it open for 24 hours – part of your Cleansing Quest, in fact, Golloron.”  Another roar shook the city, and Golloron’s face creased with terror – and resignation.  “Why?” Aranos asked.  “Golloron, what’s happening?”

“We must make all haste to the northern and western walls!” the former Elder shouted.  “Lady of the Blades, Captain of the Keepers, we will need every arm we can find, at once!”  No one moved to obey, and a look of anger flashed across the elf’s face.  “Do you not understand?  That is the call of a Nightmare Beast!  Our city is doomed, and the best we can do is to die in its defense!”

Chapter 34

Aranos gathered his party and followed Golloron, racing across the city toward the northern walls.  His thoughts spun chaotically; was there really a Nightmare Beast outside the walls?  Had it been summoned through his open portal?  Radomil had cautioned him not to leave a portal open for too long, but he’d dismissed that warning; had he known that the open portal might summon something like this, he certainly would have taken it more seriously!

Elves rushed around him, shouting and screaming in terror.  Wynathra had summoned some of her guards to evacuate the city as much as possible, instructing them to move everyone into the forest to the south of Eredain, away from the likely path of the Nightmare Beast.  She and Dorn’ar’el were still back at the Great Square, gathering their forces and issuing instructions.  What troops they’d had followed Golloron and Aranos to the walls, along with the Druids from the House of the Sickle and other fighters, Wizards, and healers they’d picked up as they ran.  Aranos briefly glimpsed the now-familiar face of Lord Miradan in the gathering throng as well as the tiny figure of Faraine, surrounded by a few of her House members that Aranos guessed must be Wizards.

Mathias had gathered the other Travelers, and they moved in a mass toward the wall, all looking strangely eager.  To his surprise and sudden dread, Avalyn had joined that group and ran beside Gwinivere, although she looked like she was starting to flag.  She isn’t ready for something like this, he thought grimly.  She should be joining the evacuation!   From the determined look on her face, though, Aranos could tell she wouldn’t go willingly; he would have to do his best to protect her once the battle was joined.

They reached the walls faster than Aranos would have imagined, and when he looked out into the forest, the Sorcerer’s heart quailed, and a cry of despair rose from the gathered elves.  A huge form was moving through the trees, large enough that its top crested the treeline.  It crushed the mighty boles around it, clearing a path of destruction as it moved and revealing itself to the gathered defenders.  Aranos almost wished it had stayed hidden in the trees.

It was as if a demented sculptor had taken every horrific creature they could imagine and carved each of them into a titanic chunk of living obsidian.  The Nightmare Beast moved on multiple legs, some long and arachnoid, others double-bent like a wolf’s, and the rest scaled and taloned like a reptile’s.  Three tails sprouted from its back, one furred and sporting a bladed end, one curled up like a scorpion’s, and one heavy and massive like a lizard’s.  Its body was a mishmash of scales, metallic plates, molten lava, and gleaming, black stone and looked impossibly wide.  Myriad arms sprouted all over its trunk, some tentacled and covered in wicked-looking hooks, some massive but humanlike with grasping, taloned hands, and others articulated and ending in chitinous pincers.  Two heads sprouted from its shoulders; one head resembled a demonic gorilla with crimson fur and curling, black ram’s horns, while the other had a long, sinuous neck and a gaping, serpent’s head covered in glossy, black scales at the end.

Only one thing gave Aranos any hope at all that the monster could be beaten; its flesh looked blistered and scorched, its chitin and scales blackened, and it favored one leg as it moved.  The oilairie trees and my Redeemed ground, he realized.  They burned it, and it isn’t healing the damage.

Aranos had no idea how the creature even moved, much less moved so effortlessly as it crashed through the forest toward the city.  “So, that’s a Nightmare Beast?” he asked softly.

“Indeed, Traveler, and your folly has called it upon us, dooming us all,” Golloron murmured in reply, his voice trembling in what Aranos guessed was mingled anger and fear, and Aranos felt his own anger spike in return.

“You gave Geltheriel that Quest, Golloron,” he reminded the elf.  “You did it specifically hoping to kill her and enslave me to Zoridos.  The Quest demanded that I keep a portal open for a full day…”

“And you chose to do so without knowing the consequences!” the elf snapped.

“Just as you did when assigning me this Quest, Mindbender,” Geltheriel interjected.  Golloron’s eyes widened in anger, but Aranos could see the pain in his gaze as the truth hit him. 

You were both wrong, Aranos told himself silently.  Now fix the problem instead of the blame.

“I am certain there will be time for recriminations later,” Rhys spoke up, unknowingly echoing Aranos’ thoughts.  “One might wonder how we are supposed to face a creature such as this.”

“The elf’s right,” Mutroda growled.  “How do we fight this thing?”

“We do not,” Golloron scoffed.  “Such a creature is nearly impossible to defeat.”

“Anything can be killed,” Mutroda shook her head.

“Indeed, dwarf, that is true,” Golloron sneered at the woman.  “During the Feast, but a single Nightmare Beast was slain, and that cost the combined armies of humans, elves, and your kind over a third of their numbers.  That victory taught that these Beasts can only be avoided, not defeated.”

“No,” Aranos shook his head.  “There has to be a way.  Look at it; the protections I put around the portal already wounded it.  We just have to find its weakness and exploit it.”

“It is impossible…”

“I’m really sick of hearing that word,” Aranos cut the elf off.  “It was impossible to free Haerobel, or to restore Silma, or to defeat Zoridos.  It was impossible to face Morx in the dreamscape and live, or to Awaken a Heart and free Eredain from your grip.  And here we are, with all those things done.  None of them were impossible; they were just really, really difficult.” 

He pointed at the approaching Beast.  “Beating this thing will be incredibly hard, but it will be possible.  We’ll all have to work together, and the price might be high, but we can do this!”  A cheer rose from the assembled elves, and Golloron stared at the Sorcerer speculatively.

“Very well, then Traveler,” the Mindbender nodded.  “Yet, as you said, you and I must work together, and we must hold nothing back.  Even then, we will likely only buy time for my – our people to flee.”

“Maybe,” Aranos nodded.  “But as my father always says, if you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re probably right.”

Golloron’s face twisted.  “A rather pithy observation.”

“It’s true, though.”  Aranos turned to the elves.  “We’ve achieved what we have because we stopped fighting just to hold and started trying to win!” he shouted.  “We have to do the same thing, here.  We can’t just try to hold that thing back.  We have to try and kill it!  There’s no other way to save Eredain!”

“Lead us, Savior of Eredain,” an armored elf bowed.  “Command, and we shall follow.”  As the man spoke, a notification appeared in Aranos’ vision:

Command Offered!
You have been offered command of the Eredain defensive force.

Number of Units: 812
Max Number of Units: 3,240 [(Cha + Battlesense Skill + Leadership Skill) x 10]

Benefits: All troops will gain your Battlesense and Leadership Bonuses (+155% Attack and Defense, +76% Movement, +12 to all Opposed Checks), enemies suffer -76% to their Attack and Defense against your forces only.

Do you accept this command? (Yes/No)

Aranos selected ‘Yes’, and at once, a new tab popped into his view detailing his command.  He could see the units under his control, including their LP, SP, and Stamina bars, and the general Attack and Defense of each.

“Okay, the first thing we need to do is get down there,” he told the others.

“You would have us abandon our defenses?” Golloron scoffed.  “Foolishness!”

“Can that thing be killed with arrows, Golloron?” Aranos countered.  “Will the city’s wards hold it out?  Will our elevation and walls protect us from it?”

The elf frowned but shook his head.  “No, to all three,” he admitted.

“Then staying here is just slowing down how long it takes it to kill us,” Aranos declared.  “I can open a portal to get us down to the ground, but it won’t last long, so we have to move quickly.  Golloron, can you help?”

“I would assist you, but without the Heart’s power, I have no Dimensional mana,” Golloron shook his head. 

“Okay, then everyone, get ready to move as soon as the portal opens.”

He wove the strands of mana into a larger disc this time, opening a gate ten feet across and seven high in the air that led to the ground at the base of the city.  While his troops marched through, he played with his army screen, finding that he could assign commanders and organize individual units into squads beneath those commanders.  He also had the option to spend his SP to grant individual units buffs and to communicate with the commanders through the screen; that would have to wait until the troops were organized, though.  When the last of the defenders passed through, Aranos joined them on the ground and closed the portal behind him.

He cast his Flight Spell, floating above the elves so that everyone could clearly see him.  “Okay, I’ve organized everyone by their specialties,” he commanded.  “Geltheriel, you’re in charge of our Archers.  Everyone who fights with a ranged attack, go stand with her.  Mutroda is in command of the heavy infantry.  Mathias, you’ve got the light infantry and skirmishers.  Rhys, you’re in charge of our healers.”  He hesitated.  “Golloron, I put you in command of our magical support.  You get half the Druids and all of our Wizards, but that’s not much.  Can we get more?”

“I have sent a message to the House of Stars, but I do not know if any will arrive in time,” the former Elder shook his head.  “I have also requested that the House of the Moon send a message to the King and Queen to send the armies of the elves, but – I am doubtful that they will even bother.  They will simply accept that Eredain is lost and reinforce the borders of the nearest cities.”

“Then we’ll have to work with what we’ve got and prove them wrong.”  He looked at the troops.  “This is going to be messy and bloody,” he admitted.  “If we all work together, though, we can save our city and send this thing back to wherever it came from!  Listen to your commanders, stay strong, and remember: we’re Eredain’s only hope.  If we fail, so does the city – so we won’t fail!”

The elves began to move into their units, while Aranos floated about the area before the city, preparing it as best he could.  If he had time, he would have Redeemed the ground, but that would have left him debuffed and short on SP when the Beast arrived.  Instead, he planted several oilairie trees near the base of the city, and Rhys and his Druids raised them to maturity in mere moments.  He laid lines of Warding mana across the ground, in the hope that these would slow down or damage the creature, and he filled the area with his Illuminating Mists; Night Vision wasn’t all that accurate for combat, and he knew that sometimes, Light mana hurt creatures of Darkness.

Back in his Army tab, he examined the buff options for his troops:

Arcane Armor 1 – Improve melee and ranged defense of a squad by [(Leadership + Battlesense)/4]%.  Cost – 250 SP

Arcane Barrier 1 – Create an immobile shield around one squad that reduces incoming damage from any source by [(Leadership + Battlesense)/3]%.  Cost – 300 SP

Energy Weapons 1 – Add a single type of energy damage to a squad’s melee or ranged attacks, doing [(Leadership + Battlesense)/10] extra damage of that type.  Cost – 150 SP

Enhanced Speed 1 – Boost the movement and attack speed of a single squad by [(Leadership + Battlesense)/4]%.  Cost – 200 SP

Improved Stat 1 – Increase a single Stat for a squad by [(Leadership + Battlesense)/20].  Cost – 300 SP

Reinforce Arms 1 – Improve the base Attack and Defense provided by a squad’s metal weapons and armor by [(Leadership + Battlesense)/3]%.  Cost – 150 SP

Each buff had additional levels, and the bonuses seemed to improve by 50% with each extra rank.  Unfortunately, they also cost double the SP per rank, making them quickly become prohibitively expensive.  It seems like these buffs are based on my Spells, he thought as he analyzed the options.  Does that mean that a non-spellcaster would get buffs based on their Abilities, instead?”

“Correct,” Veronica confirmed in his mind.  “And their buffs would use Stamina instead of SP.”

That’s a lot of SP or Stamina lost, right before a battle, he pointed out.

“That was the intent.  We’ve noticed that generals aren’t usually in the front ranks with their troops in these battles, after all.  If the general is suffering a Fatigued or Mana Depletion penalty from buffing their forces, they’ll stay back and command those forces instead of getting in the thick of things.”

Well, I’m going to do both thanks to my ridiculous SP and regen rates, he thought with a silent grin, so I guess your evil plan failed.   The AIs voice remained silent at that, and Aranos turned his focus back to his troops.

He quickly dropped about ten thousand SP to give his archers and skirmishers the Ability to do Light damage with each hit and strengthened the armor and weapons of his heavy infantry.  He boosted his skirmishers’ movement speed and placed an arcane barrier around his healers and magical support.  He only added the first two levels of each buff at first, dropping his SP significantly, then waited for it to regenerate so he could tack on the third.  Didn’t think about that, did you, Veronica? he thought with a silent smirk.

“Actually, we did.  Check your SP.”

Aranos watched his SP bar; to his great discontent, it wasn’t rising, despite his massive regen rate.  It seemed to be stuck at the lowered level.  Oh, that’s just wrong, he thought a bit irritably.

“It seems perfectly fair to me,” she replied, her voice filled with satisfaction.  “You have to choose, Jeff.  The more you buff your troops, the better they’ll do in battle; but the less you’ll be able to actively participate.”

Aranos sighed; that was a hard choice.  At the second rank, he was giving his troops bonuses of eighteen to twenty-four percent to their Defense and Speed, plus an additional 7 points of damage.  These were all then improved further by his Leadership and Battlesense bonuses.  If he added another rank, he’d only have about 20,000 SP to use himself in the battle ahead, but his troops would have an effective additional bonus of up to 55% and do almost twenty extra points of damage.  Sighing, he added the third rank of buffs, the highest he could afford; hopefully, this would let more of his troops survive the combat ahead.  Sometimes you suck, Veronica.

“I take that as a compliment.”

He felt the monster’s approach through the ground and called out his orders.  His troops formed up across the battlefield and settled in; Aranos could feel the fear and tension running through them, but they all held their positions.  Hope and terror mingled on their faces; the Nightmare Beast was a creature of legend, something they all knew of but had never expected to see.  They were used as a metaphor for an impossible challenge.  Everyone knew that they were invincible, and the sight of one spelled doom for armies a thousand times larger than what faced this creature.  Even so, he knew they hoped he could find a way to achieve the impossible once again.  So do I, he admitted silently.

The monster burst into the open with an ear-shattering roar, showering the troops with chunks of torn wood and massive branches.  For a moment, Aranos quailed; he’d underestimated the thing’s size.  The creature stood hundreds of feet tall; its body occupied the entire clearing before the city.  He had to crane his neck to see its twin heads, towering above the defenders and probably able to peer effortlessly over the walls of the city and within.  Every step shook the ground and tore gouges in the earth, and its arms swept about almost chaotically, crashing into trees and sweeping through heavy trunks like paper.  Holy shit, he thought silently.  What the hell are we supposed to do against that thing?

“Charge!” Mutroda’s voice suddenly echoed across the clearing, breaking the defenders from the spell of terror they’d fallen under.  Instantly, the heavy infantry rushed forward, surrounding the creature’s legs, chopping at them rhythmically like trying to fell a tree.  Rather than organize his troops into a single line that the mammoth Beast could easily sweep aside or step over, Aranos had formed them into small, mobile groups.  These had better flexibility and maneuverability – and if it turned out the beast had some sort of area attack, hopefully only one squad might be obliterated at a time. 

The flurry of attacks bounced ineffectively off the creature’s skin, since he hadn’t added extra damage to the infantry’s weapons.  That wasn’t the point, though; these troops weren’t meant to hurt the Beast.  They were meant to hold its attention, and they served that function well.  The creature roared as its two heads looked down at the tiny figures surrounding it, and it lashed out with its feet, trying to crush or trample the elves.  Despite its overall swiftness, though, compared to the tiny defenders, its movements were ponderous and slow, and they were able to scuttle out of the way, using their shields to push off the massive appendages safely. 

The creature roared again as Geltheriel shouted, “Loose!” and a volley of glowing arrows sank into its skin.  The Light Enhancement he’d given the weapons allowed them to bypass its armor and punch into its flesh, but they looked like tiny splinters lodged in its hide.  Another volley followed almost immediately, and thanks to the massive size of the creature, not a single shot missed, but Aranos wasn’t sure the beast even noticed the dozens of tiny pinpricks in its flesh. 

A moment later, he realized that it did, as its serpent head swung toward the archers, gaping wide.  Geltheriel shouted “Scatter!” as a burst of foul liquid erupted from its maw, blasting into the spot where the ranged attackers had just been standing.  The grass and trees in that area wilted and crumbled to ash, along with a pair of archers unable to escape the blast.  “Reform!” Geltheriel shouted once more.

“Charge!” Mathias screamed, and a horde of lightly armored figures swarmed about the creature’s legs, hacking and chopping.  Their softly glowing weapons opened thin gashes on its legs that dripped smoking, black blood.  “Retreat!” Mathias shouted just in time, as two of the Beast’s hands pointed toward the attackers and unleashed a torrent of fire on the ground where they’d just stood.

“Now!”  This cry came from Golloron and was followed by a hail of fire, ice, and lightning that peppered the Beast’s side.  It roared its anger and hurled a huge ball of ebony flames at the casters, one that exploded against Aranos’ barrier and then washed harmlessly against another that the former Elder had apparently raised.

This is too disorganized, Aranos thought as he floated above the battle.  We can’t attack haphazardly like this.  He pulled up his Army screen activated his communications channels.  “Hold,” he ordered.  “Geltheriel, fire for effect only.  Don’t draw its attention, yet.  Try to find a weak spot.  Mathias, wait until I order the next charge; Mutroda, the moment the skirmishers withdraw, get that thing’s attention, fast!  Golloron, target existing wounds as best you can.”

He watched as the tanks reengaged, chopping mightily but vainly at the creature.  Arrows peppered its hide, but these were carefully targeted, seeking out weaknesses rather than trying to overwhelm the monster with huge volleys.  Even so, its attention started to turn toward the ranged attackers, which was when Aranos ordered the skirmishers to charge.  The light infantry slashed into the Beast’s legs and then retreated quickly, allowing the tanks to rush back in and regain the monster’s attention.  

Aranos thought he had a measure of the Nightmare Beast’s base tactics, now.  It fought responsively, not proactively; it probably considered the elves to be a nuisance and wanted to get into the city, so it only attacked them when it had to.  When its assailants presented no danger to it, like the tanks, it responded with simple melee attacks.  When they hurt it in close or with magic, it lashed out with Spells.  When it was damaged at range, it hurled ranged Abilities back at its foes.  So long as he could keep the things’ attention focused on the tanks – and Golloron could maintain his secondary barrier – the defenders had a chance.

After several minutes, though, he realized the flaw in his plan: Stamina and SP.  His tanks were started to flag and were having more trouble dodging the creature’s attacks; he’d lost three of them to the Beast already, and several more looked as if they were about to drop.  His archers were doing okay, but his skirmishers were retreating more slowly with every attack, and a handful of them lay lifeless on the ground, victims of the reflexive magical attacks the Beast sent crashing into them after every assault.  His healers weren’t providing much help; those who were struck by any of the Beast’s attacks invariably died instantly, without giving the Druids a chance to intervene, and unlike true Priests, the Druids couldn’t heal Fatigue.  Aranos had already shifted them into combat roles instead, but he didn’t know if it was going to make much difference.

Nightmare Beast
Unwounded

Minutes had passed, and they hadn’t been able to drop the Beast’s LP by 10%.  Aranos quailed – maybe the creature really was unbeatable – but he shook off that thought.  There has to be a way, he thought grimly.  The AIs gave me this Quest, and they don’t give Quests that are impossible.  Hard, but not impossible.  He frowned as he realized that there was only one possibility; he was going to have to join the battle himself, using his reduced SP to distract and occupy the creature.  Theoretically, he and Silma were the most maneuverable creatures on the battlefield, and he was the most flexible.  If he could give his people time to recover, they could still win this – but he would have to be smart and careful. 

He soared into the air, racing up to the Nightmare Beast’s eye level.  “Hey ugly!” he shouted, his voice probably barely registering to the huge creature.  “Pick on someone your own size!”  He winced at the inane comment, but he raised his hand and fired a single lance of Light mana directly into the massive pupil of one of the creature’s gorilla eyes.  The beast screamed – it had felt that, for sure! – and turned that head toward Aranos.  The Sorcerer soared high as a gout of flame erupted from its mouth, the blast wider than Aranos was tall.  It passed below him, and he fired another Light Blast into its other eye.  I doubt I can blind it; its retinas are probably too large.  I’ll bet I can make it see spots, though!

He swooped lower and heard Silma’s shouted warning just in time.  He darted back, allowing a massive tentacle swipe to pass under him, then raced low again as an arc of lightning lit up the space he’d been floating.  Got to keep moving and stay aware, he told himself.  Remember, you’re not trying to kill it yourself; you’re the distraction.

He swooped and arced around the creature, staying just ahead of its attacks, giving his troops a chance to recover their Stamina and SP.  He monitored his own mana carefully, using his Mage Shield sparingly after the lightning breath the creature’s serpent head unleashed shattered that Shield in an instant.  He relied on speed and quick, probing attacks, using his Expert Archery Skill to hit vulnerable areas and his Adept Dodge Skill to avoid Spells and attacks.  Once his troops were recovered sufficiently, he resumed their attacks on the Beast, this time keeping part of his forces in reserve to rotate in as individual squads flagged.

It began as a single misstep.  A Keeper wearing medium armor, a bit heavier than the standard light armor of the skirmishers, stumbled during the squad’s retreat.  That stumble caused others to lose their momentum, and soon the orderly retreat was a tangled, sprawling mess.  The tanks struggled to reengage, but without a full withdrawal of the light infantry, their access to the creature was limited.  Elves screamed as magic slammed into the skirmishers’ midst, and Aranos saw twenty or so of his troops’ LP bars flash to zero in an instant – and the light troops still hadn’t managed to withdraw.

Geltheriel ordered a full volley, hoping to distract the creature, but it simply answered with a blast of ebony fluid that scattered the archers and reduced five of them to dripping liquid.  Golloron and Rhys sent desperate magical volleys, while Aranos fired blast after blast into its eyes, but magic still rained down on the skirmishers, whose numbers dwindled by the second.  Spells began to strike the nearby tanks, and the troops’ heavy armor and shielding offered them no protection from the awesome magic the Beast wielded.

His assault was falling apart, and Aranos wasn’t sure there was anything he could do. 

The Nightmare Beast roared as Geltheriel increased the size of her volleys, and it took a step away from the wall and toward the ranged attackers.  That single step closed its distance with them, and magic began to fall among the archers.  Elves screamed as their flesh was roasted, frozen, or sloughed off in waves; the squads were scattered, trying to flee from the creature’s deadly attacks.  Aranos swooped over them, shouting and barking commands, and he finally managed to get them back into a sense of order, but the damage was done; he’d lost almost half his ranged troops.

The tanks rushed forward, finally freed of the tangle of skirmishers, but they were met with a hail of magic.  The Beast was no longer trying to get into the city; the elves were its target, and it was intent on slaughtering them.  Magical assaults flew from Golloron and Rhys’ Druids, splattering harmlessly against the Nightmare Beast and drawing dual breath weapons of fire and ice in return.  Golloron’s barrier shattered, and more elves shrieked as the waves of flame and frigid crystal destroyed their flesh.

Aranos swooped forward, reaching down into himself, gathering his deeper power.  He didn’t know if his Ascended Spells would kill this thing, but if anything could, it would be them.  This time, though, Golloron was faster. 

The former Elder flashed into the Beast’s view with a rush of wind, the deadly power of Destruction radiating from him in all directions.  “Everyone, withdraw!” Aranos shouted as he saw the force of the elf’s Domain.  “Don’t get too close!” 

Golloron’s face was once again creased with a crazed snarl as he fired a blast of gray energy at the towering Beast.  The creature howled, and Aranos’ heart leapt; a huge chunk of its flesh shivered to ash at the touch of the Mindbender’s Domain, and it flinched away from his dreadful power.  Another blast roared out of the elf, tearing free one of the monster’s arms.  The Beast rained Spells and Abilities upon the elder, but these vanished as they touched his Domain.  Aranos felt a thrill of hope; they might be able to win this after all.

And then, the serpent mouth opened, and a foul, black blast of what looked like pure Corruption burst forth, piercing the boundary of Golloron’s Domain.  The elf fired a wave of Destruction, intercepting the torrent of black energy, but the gout of Corruption didn’t dissolve beneath Golloron’s power.  It was held at bay for an instant, but Aranos could see that it was pushing closer to him.  The gray light surrounding Golloron began to fail, and the elf looked almost helplessly over his shoulder at Aranos.

“Remember me thus, Sorcerer!” the man called plaintively.  A moment later, the wave of foul power broke through Golloron’s shield and enveloped the elf.  When it passed, nothing was left.

Golloron was gone.

A cry went up from the gathered troops, but Aranos saw none of it.  The torrent of black energy was still gathering in the Nightmare Beast’s mouth, and its gaze was being drawn to the ground.  Its eyes focused on a single target, ignoring the elves hacking at its legs or raining arrows into its eyes.

Upon Geltheriel.

“NOOO!” Aranos screamed, golden fire igniting within him as the power burst out of the creature’s maw and tore toward the defenseless elf.  Suddenly, he stood before the elf, wreathed in golden flame, facing the onrushing energy.  He didn’t know how he’d done it; he wasn’t fast enough, and he hadn’t cast a Spell.  He’d needed to be there, and there he was.  Golden and silver fire erupted from his outstretched hands, smashing into the wave of Corruption, burning it into wisps of harmless vapor.  Rage poured through him – it dared!  The Darkness dared to try and take Geltheriel from him!  It would PAY!

As the energy rushed through him, though, Aranos knew it wouldn’t be enough.  The dread force bearing down on him was titanic; his fire wouldn’t last forever, and when it failed, he would die…and so would everyone else on the battlefield.  Rhys and his bonded Minwago would be destroyed; Avalyn would perish before she ever got a chance to live; Mutroda would never return to the Stone.

Geltheriel would die.

Desperately, he reached deeper within himself, trying to pull more of that torrent of power.  His mind dove into the energy, burned and frozen by it, tossed about by that oceanic power like a cork in the sea.  He rode those currents, plumbing their depths, flowing with them into the deepest part of his soul and beyond.  There, in the depths, he understood. 

These were the powers at the heart of the world, and twin energies warred within him.  The golden fire of Redemption roared and surged, demanding to be released.  With it, he could heal what was hurt, restore what was lost, and renew that which had faded.  It was the power of life, of light, and of growth, the energy he tapped when he reclaimed Silma or Redeemed Antas.

Beside it, the silver blaze of War leapt and curled, screaming for battle.  It was the power of life and death, of conquest and defense, of aggression and resolve.  With it, he could reclaim what had been taken, drive out those who invaded his land, and bring the Light back to ascendancy.

Choose, he felt more than heard the voice deep within him.

Why? he responded to that unknown voice, confused.

You cannot embody us both, another voice roared in his thoughts. 

You must choose one, the first voice agreed.

Choose or perish, the second voice declared.

No, he replied adamantly.  You’re wrong.  I don’t have to choose.  I am both of you; and I will have you both.  I will reclaim and restore; I will heal and destroy; I will renew and conquer.  I will bring War in the name of Redemption.

It is forbidden! the first voice shrieked.

It is impossible! the second cried.

I DON’T CARE! he roared in response, and he felt the twin powers quail before his wrath.  I’m tired of hearing that!  I WILL DO IT!  

The twin energies surged within him, and he guided them into himself, mingling their essences and pouring them into the river of his mana.  That current, once seemingly vast and deep in his mind, was swept aside, buried in the ocean of his power.  As he watched, though, he realized that was wrong; the river wasn’t gone.  It flowed through the fires of War and Redemption, now, mingling with them, becoming one.  They were his essence, and his essence was changed; they were changed to match it.

Pain lanced through him as the fire met the spirals of his mana.  The careful structures he’d created shivered and trembled, trying to channel an ocean of power through a channel meant for a stream.  The agony redoubled as the power rebounded, losing its momentum.  If it continued, he knew that the power would return to the depths once more, and when it did, he would die.

And so would Geltheriel.

Fear gripped his heart at what he had to do.  He’d worked so hard and built his structures so carefully, but now they limited him.  What would happen if he no longer had them?  Would he still be able to cast Spells?  To be a Sorcerer?  Or would his mana become unaspected once more, his Spells lost forever?

He had to choose.  He could stay with what was safe – and lose his companions.  Lose Geltheriel.  Or he could risk everything, save everyone, and possibly lose what had made him special.

It wasn’t even a choice.  He reached out…and with a touch, he shattered his spirals.

Power roared through his body, flooding the channels he’d built.  Golden and silver fire raced down into the pools of energy that powered his Stats, filling and overfilling them.  His mouth opened in a scream of agony as fire filled his veins and scoured his mind, but only tendrils of flame emerged in the place of sound.  Everything was fire; the world was flame.

He was flame.

He was War, the power of conquest, and he would not be defeated by a Beast.

He was Redemption, the power of the Light, and he would not surrender to the Darkness.

His eyes snapped open; the world was changed.  He could feel everything around him; his Lifesense Skill seemed to have been magnified a hundredfold, and he could sense every soul and speck of life around him.  He could feel the souls of the fallen, lingering nearby, and he comforted them instinctively, granting them release almost effortlessly.  Corruption lingered in the ground, and he burned it away with a thought, Redeeming the space around them.

The presence of the Nightmare Beast loomed like a shadow of utter blackness in his thoughts, and War rose within him.  His jet of fire had guttered and nearly died, but he renewed it with an effort of will, pushing back the fount of Corruption.  The Beast poured Spells down on him, but they shattered against the shield of War and burned in the fires of Redemption.  He rose into the air, his fire driving back the Darkness.  He imagined fire and lightning smashing into the Beast from all sides, and War obliged; arcs of electricity as thick as trees ripped into its hide, while globes of white-hot fire seared its flesh.

The Beast roared in pain but redoubled its attack on him.  A second gout of Corruption poured from its other head, driving back Aranos’ fire.  The Sorcerer gritted his teeth and drove his will at the creature, halting the advance of Darkness; the two forces swayed in midair, flame and blackness writhing against one another, locked in a perfect balance.

A tiny, prismatic dart shot out and slammed into the reptilian eye of the serpent’s head.  It was an inconsequential thing, a mote of power compared to the oceans of energy being unleashed, but it brought an instant response.  For a moment, the serpent head shifted, lashing its fount of Corruption at its offender, and in that moment, Aranos’ fire prevailed.  The torrent of gold and silver flame ripped through the weakened wave of Corruption and plunged into the apelike skull of the creature.  The Nightmare Beast screamed as fire erupted from its eyes and ears, running down its body like liquid and searing its flesh. 

The serpent head whirled back too late; Aranos shifted his aim and caught the creature on the side of its skull.  His fire raced into it, scorching its flesh and obliterating the Darkness within it.  He pressed his attack, pouring waves of fire into the creature, burning it as utterly as possible.  This monster wasn’t simply filled with Darkness; it was Darkness incarnate, a construct of evil power given hideous life.  Any speck of it that survived would Corrupt whoever touched it and spread Blight throughout the forest.  Even without a head, the Beast screamed as his fire poured into it, shredding the Darkness within and returning that energy to the Light.

Far in the distance, a voice raged at what he was doing.  Aranos had never listened closely to it; it was a voice of lies and deception, full of false promises and hidden chains.  This time, though, its words caught his ears.

“Too far, Sorcerer!” the voice raged, its sound filled with death and pain.  “Too far!  There will be war!”

You want war? he screamed back at it, his rage powering his thoughts.   I’ll give you war!  I AM WAR, IN THE NAME OF THE LIGHT, AND I WILL PREVAIL!

The voice fell silent as the last shreds of the Nightmare Beast collapsed into vapor, swept away by his rising power.  He let the fire die out, but as he did, he knew he wasn’t done.  He could still feel Corruption nearby, and Redemption shouted for it to be obliterated.  He looked at Geltheriel.  Can you get them back into the city? he thought quietly.  There’s one more thing that has to be done.

Then we do it together, Oathbinder, she said firmly, grabbing her sword hilt.  Lead, and I will follow, until the end of days.

He stared at her for a moment, seeing the awe and the iron determination behind her eyes.  Okay.  Together, then.  I might need it, after all.  He turned to Rhys, but the Druid held up a hand.

I will see to it, Liberator, the Druid assured him.  I will also gather the bodies of the fallen – including your foolish apprentice.

“Avalyn?” he said aloud, startled, his eyes searching the clearing.  “What…”  He broke off as he understood where that final dart had come from.

“Fool girl tossed one last Spell,” Mutroda walked over, carrying the lifeless corpse of the young woman.  “The thing killed her for it.”

“And that last Spell distracted it enough to let me win,” Aranos sighed, although oddly, he felt no pain at her loss.  After all, in war, things die .  Avalyn’s face was strangely peaceful in death, bereft of the hostility and rancor she’d harbored in life.  “She saved us all, in a way.”

“And so will she be remembered,” Rhys agreed.  “I will see to her, Liberator…”  The elf broke off and stared in amazement as Avalyn’s body suddenly faded and vanished from Mutroda’s arms.

“What in the Stone?” the dwarf growled, holding up her now empty hands and glaring at them accusingly.  “What sort of magic is this?”  She looked at Aranos dumbly.  “Was she some sort of illusion?”

“No, Juggernaut,” Geltheriel said softly, shaking her head.  “The Furor and I have seen this before – several times.”  She glanced at Aranos.  “Do you understand, Oathbinder?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his mind stunned.  “Avalyn – she’s a Traveler, Mutroda.”

“Oh, I see,” the dwarf shook her head, lowering her hands.  “That makes sense.”

“You look quite dumbfounded, Liberator,” Rhys said softly.  “I would think this news would overjoy you; the child yet lives, after all.”

“It – it…”  It shouldn’t be possible, he thought in amazement.  She’s too young for the Beta Test, it would be illegal.  And how did she enter so late?  She’d only been in the game for a few days when I met her…

“It startled me,” he finally finished.  “We don’t usually send people so young into other worlds, and I wasn’t expecting any new Travelers at this point.”  He shook his head; that would be something else to look into once he’d logged out again.  “It doesn’t matter; I’ll talk to her about it later.  For now, we have to go finish this.”

“I’m coming with you,” Mutroda growled. 

As am I, pack leader, Silma added, loping up to stand beside him.

“Fine,” he sighed.  “Rhys, you’re in charge here.  We’re going to go make sure nothing else comes out of that portal.”  He flexed his will, and his party members rose into the air with shouts of dismay as the power of War wrapped around them.  They were his weapons, and he would need them.  “Sorry, it’s the fastest way,” he told them simply.  “I don’t know if even Silma could keep up with me right now.”

They raced northward at the speed of his thought, carried on the winds of War.  He didn’t cast a Spell; he simply willed himself to be where he was needed, and War carried him to battle.  As he passed, Redemption flowed beneath him, scouring the Darkness and Corruption the Beast’s passage had left in its wake.  He couldn’t regrow the trees – that was a power beyond him, still – but he could make sure that new things could grow there once more.  Left unchecked, the Darkness the Nightmare Beast had imprinted in the soil would spread into the forests and begin a new round of Blight; now, at least, the woodlands would survive.

They stopped before the glowing portal, and Aranos looked around with dismay.  Danastor had been heavily damaged by the Beast’s arrival, and three of the oilairie trees were uprooted and tossed around the clearing.  He would need Rhys’ help to heal those, and he could use Redemption to restore the damaged tower, but for now, his attention was demanded elsewhere.

The portal before him pulsed with Darkness.  Gone was the smooth sheet of gray nothingness or the pristine sight of Saphielle’s tree; the portal was filled with shadows, now, Corrupted by the Beast’s arrival.  “This is what we have to fix,” he said grimly, pointing at the arch.  “Somehow, I think Morx Corrupted the link to this thing and let the Nightmare Beast through.”

“Morx?” Mutroda repeated.  “The God of Nightmares?  What’s he got to do with anything?”

“I’ve met him, and he’s not exactly a fan of mine,” Aranos said shortly.  “He’s the one who Corrupted the Arcane Doors; I have a feeling he can do the same thing to a portal arch if it’s left open long enough.”

“Can you repair it?” Geltheriel asked.

Aranos reached out to the portal; Redemption showed him the strands of Corruption binding the gate, turning it to a place that Aranos’ mind recoiled from considering.  Beyond that portal was true Darkness, the realms of blood and madness, and stepping into it would spell the doom of any Lightborn.  “Yeah, I can fix it,” he nodded.  “It hasn’t been Corrupted long enough for it to become permanent.  I think.  It might take some time, though.” 

“Then we shall guard the passage while you do as you must,” the elf said, drawing her sword. 

“Nothing’s getting through,” Mutroda agreed, hefting her halberd.  Her armor was still cracked and pitted, but that was a task within Aranos’ power; War reached out and strengthened her defenses, making them harder and stronger than before.  She glanced down at her now-gleaming armor, then looked at him with surprise.  “Thanks,” she nodded.

“My pleasure,” he smiled.  “I can’t replace your shield the same way, sorry.  I can repair arms and armor, not create it.”

“It just means I’ll hit harder with my halberd,” she chuckled, grabbing the haft with both hands.  “Not a problem.”

The three Warriors set themselves before the portal, and Aranos reached out to it with the fires of Redemption.  Golden flame erupted at the base of the portal arch and began slowly licking up the edges, scouring the Corruption from the stone.  The moment his fire touched it, though, a swarm of dark, slim humanoids burst through the portal and charged forward.  The creatures were utterly hairless, with large, pale, pupilless eyes and small, flat ears that were barely visible on their ebon skin.  They had no noses but several slits that looked like gills in the side of their necks.   Their mouths were wider than normal, and when one snarled, Aranos could see sharp canine teeth.  They were dressed in solid, gleaming black armor and held cruel-looking weapons with hooks and curved points that looked designed to make opponents suffer.

“Bodakkai!” Geltheriel shouted, parrying a slash from one of the beasts and plunging her sword into its throat, directly into one of the slits in its neck.  “The Darkbringer’s chosen people!”  The bodakkai fell, gurgling and clutching its throat, and the elf leaped back, parrying a thrust from a serrated-edged spear.

“They bleed as easily as any other,” Mutroda chuckled, jamming her halberd through a bodakkai’s armor and into its chest.  The creature collapsed, but another stepped into its place, swinging a heavy, hook-studded mace.  The dwarf parried the blow easily and thrust, catching the bodakkai in the eye socket.

“It is said their numbers are endless in the Blood Realms,” Geltheriel said a bit desperately.  “Oathbinder, you must close this gateway as quickly as possible!  These cannot be unleashed here!”

War rose up within Aranos, but he tamped it down and focused on his task. The inimical energies of Corruption were pouring into the arch even as he worked to Redeem it; someone or something was trying to counter what he did.  He drove the golden fire forth with his will, pushing it higher up the arch, and a flood of Darkness pulsed out in return, trying to undo his work.  No, he thought grimly, holding against the scrabbling talons of black energy trying to seize control of the portal.  This is mine, and I claim it!

War rose up once more, and this time Aranos let it ascend.  It added its silver fire to the energy rising up the arch, ripping and tearing at the power flowing out of it.  The archway shuddered beneath War’s touch, and suddenly the flood of bodakkai ceased.  Instead, a massive creature stepped from the portal, roaring its fury.  The creature stood eight feet tall, with skin like obsidian and blazing red eyes.  It was hideously muscled, with long arms and clawed fingers and feet.  Its head resembled a dog’s but was scaled instead of furry, and it had two rows of gaping teeth when it opened its muzzle to roar.  It was nude and very obviously male, and as it spotted the two women standing before it, it rushed forward almost eagerly.  Aranos almost reflexively Inspected it:

Huonwe
Unwounded

Mutroda stood before the huonwe, catching its charge on the spike of her halberd and setting her feet.  She grunted as the impact shuddered against her, and her blade slid a scant pair of inches into its flesh before halting.  “This isn’t the most pleasant view,” she observed, pushing back against the creature without effect.  “Kind of wish it was a bit shorter right now.”

“You could also wish to be taller,” Geltheriel pointed out as she slashed at the creature, her blade slicing into its scales and her shadow blade cutting deeply into its shoulder.  The monster lashed out with a claw, but the elf slipped under the blow and struck again, opening more wounds on it.

“Why would I want to be taller?” the dwarf scoffed, yanking her halberd free.  “I’m the perfect size to do this!”  The huonwe rushed forward again but recoiled, howling as the axe blade of Mutroda’s halberd snapped up between its legs and buried itself in the beast’s exposed crotch.  “That’ll teach the damn thing to cover up next time.”  A moment later, Silma rushed into the wounded monster, knocking it down and burying her fangs in its throat.  It lashed at her with its long arms, but she vanished, leaving behind a horrible wound in its neck.  Geltheriel leaped forward, plunged her sword into the gaping injury, and the hounwe thrashed once and fell still.

More of the bodakkai swarmed forth from the portal, but Aranos was barely paying attention.  His flames were rising more swiftly, now, searing the Darkness from the portal arch.  When they met in the middle, he would be able to reclaim the entire portal; whoever was opposing him must have known that, as the energy coursing from the portal suddenly redoubled in power.  Aranos grunted with the effort of holding back those energies and drove his will even harder, and his flames began to rise once more.  He felt a shriek of rage emanate from the arch, and a moment before his twin fires reached the top, he suddenly blinked and found himself standing on a featureless, endless plain of gray dust that extended in all directions. 

“Welcome to my realm, or at least, a part of it,” a voice hissed, and Aranos turned to see Morx standing before him.  This version of Morx felt solider, more real than the one he’d encountered in the dreamscape, as if more of the god were present within it.

“Indeed, you see me as I truly am, Sorcerer,” the god rasped, the voice echoing from all around Aranos rather than coming from its smooth, featureless face.  “I have come to give you one, final offer.”

“No deal,” Aranos shook his head.  “I don’t even want to hear it.”

“But you will hear it,” the god snapped, its voice filled with the sounds of cracking bone and gurgling blood.  “You will hear me, and you will obey, or you will die here, Sorcerer!”

“Then kill me,” Aranos said flatly, gathering his power.  Redemption rose within him, pushing back the cloud of dust, and War raged about him, demanding the god’s blood.  “Or try.  I don’t care.”

“And if I kill you, your work will be undone,” the god rasped.  “My minions will pour forth into Eredain, and the city will be put to the sword, even as I showed you so long ago.”  The featureless plain suddenly morphed into a scene of destruction, as the black-armored bodakkai, massive huonwe, and other things for which Aranos had no name raged in the shattered Stronghold of Eredain, pillaging, looting, and raping wantonly.  “This will be the sight you return to, unless you hear me,” the god declared.

“I don’t believe you,” Aranos shook his head.  “If you could do this, you would have, long ago.”

“I did not, and you know why, Traveler.  You discovered the arrangements we made with the remnants of the Light.  Why should we indulge in one brief bounty, when we can instead feed slowly for generations?”

The scene shifted, and Eredain was peaceful once more.  The elves were gathered around him, chanting his name and weeping in joy.  “This can be true, also,” the god whispered.  “All you have to do is Bond with the Heart of Eredain and continue as Golloron did.  Pay tribute to the Darkness, and all will live in peace under your rule.”

“No,” Aranos shook his head.  “I won’t.  I’m not Bonding with Eredain; I’ve got my own city.  And I won’t pay tribute to you.  In fact, I’m going to take repayment for all those lost souls out of your minions, instead.”  His power swelled within him.  “I am War in the name of Light, Morx, and I will rain my fury down on the Darkness until you beg for mercy – and you’ll find I’m short on that.”

“THEN YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE, TRAVELER!” the god screeched its fury, and the nightmare landscape became filled with horrific creatures.  “YOU WILL BATTLE HERE UNTIL THE END OF TIME, KNOWING AS YOU DO THAT EVERYTHING YOU LOVE ON KA IS BEING DESTROYED – AND YOU ARE POWERLESS TO STOP IT!”

The creatures began to charge forward, but as they did, Aranos felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.  A spark of recognition raced through him, and he grinned as he felt the hand clutch him firmly.  “I don’t think so, Morx,” he laughed, gathering his power.  War and Redemption rose within him, and the dark god stepped back as the twin fires swirled about him.  “I’m going back right now, in fact, but you’ll see me again.  At least, in your nightmares.” 

A jet of flame, mingled gold and silver, washed out and arced toward Morx.  The god raised a hand, and an ebony barrier rose before it, but Aranos drove the power forth.  He needed to get through that barrier; he demanded it. The power redoubled, burning his flesh as it passed, but it punched through the barrier and washed over the god’s hand.  Morx shrieked as the energy crawled up its arm, blackening the flesh there and searing its fingers into curled claws. 

“My hand!” Morx screamed, clutching its arm and bathing it in a pall of darkness.  “Sorcerer!  You will pay for this effrontery!  If only you knew what…”

As the hand around Aranos’ shoulder suddenly yanked him backward, the nightmare landscape vanished, and the god’s words were cut off. 

Huh, Aranos said as the forest around Danastor swirled back into view.  I wonder what he thinks I should have known?