《Chosen of Death》 Prologue - The First Death It was another extremely boring day serving my glorious nation as I sat a hundred meters underground studying for my promotion test. The promotion board to rise to Major was coming up and with it, the opportunity to get out of this bunker and the ever present "little red button", famed in nuclear literature everywhere. My fellow missileer, Brady, was kicked back reading a novel in bunny slippers and a purple snuggie. Although things had been tense for a while on the world stage, neither of us expected anyone to actually provoke a nuclear war. Just like everybody else, my fears of world war three taking place had faded with the end of the cold war. This job was just one of many government sinecures left from a time when it might have been arguably necessary, but in my mind was now a convenient posting to polish my skills on my way up. I could even boast about the monumental responsibility sitting on "the button" implied. In fact, I had to do quite a lot of boasting in my promotion packet since this post didn''t offer me a single opportunity to actually lead anyone. I''d have to more or less ace the board and turn in an otherwise brilliantly glowing promotion packet to even have a prayer. The day was progressing according to plan and I was just about to break out my lunch box when the dim ambience was interrupted by the flare of red emergency lights and the wail of the emergency claxon. "What the %$%@" Brady cursed as he sat forward abruptly and put on his headset. I swept my paperwork off onto the floor and held my headset up to one ear while my other hand blindly groped for the code book and pulled it. "Echo, Charlie, Foxtrot, Quebec, Zulu," Brady called, repeating the message coming in through the headset. "I copy the same," I answered, checking my book. "Full Court Press." My mouth moved deciphering the code language before my brain caught up. A full court press indicated that other sites linked remotely to our own could not be manned, so we would be firing not just our ten nuclear missiles, but every missile we could reach with an electronic signal. Brady verified the code in his book, "I copy full court press. The basket is center." I nodded, not terribly surprised that in this surreal situation we were glassing the middle east. By the time these missiles were done, everything from the Gulf of Aden to the Black Sea would be so much radioactive wasteland and the lucky ones would be at ground zero, while the survivors died miserably of radiation poisoning and burns in the coming days and weeks. "Verification codes received," I continued and pulled out the keys entrusted to me and plugged them into the wall. Brady pulled his keys out, but just held them without plugging them in. The button, as it were, was actually a set of four keyed toggles so that it would take four hands to launch a nuke. This was one of the safeties to prevent one wacko from launching an unprovoked nuclear strike. "Brady," I said sternly. "This is our job. For all we know, if we fail to do this we could be leaving America open to something even worse. Nobody calls up a nuke on a whim." Brady nodded and plugged his keys in, but we waited, watching expectantly for the order to cease fire that would allow us to stand down. There was always a 30 second grace period so that someone at the top could change their mind after ordering the apocalypse. The seconds counted down on the obligatory waiting period. On the final second, I met Brady''s eyes and nodded and together we turned the keys. For a moment nothing happened, and then the floor began to shake as the ICBMs launched, headed on their way for the middle east. For a moment, I sat blankly in my seat and then I stood up and went to the door. It''s a commonly known fact that our 100 meter deep bunker was no protection from a retaliatory nuclear strike that would penetrate 200 meters into the ground. If I was about to die, I was going to go topside and see the missiles launched. If someone attacked us than I would be just as dead down here as up there. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.My decision made, I punched the emergency release on the door and raced up the stairs. As I pushed out the heavy bunker door, I was in time to see over a dozen nukes rising into the air and arcing east. For a handful of seconds, I marveled at the beautiful contrails in the midday sun. A brilliant flash burned my eyes as one of the nukes exploded not nearly far enough away. I didn''t hear anything except my own pained cries until the over pressure rolled over me and tossed my like a broken doll across the concrete parking lot. A moment later, the thermal bloom washed over me and I burned.
The torture of burning followed me into the darkness. No swift cessation or sweet release of death found me as I seemingly plunged into liquid darkness full of the intense agony of burning to death over and over and over. I screamed soundlessly while my throat burned and felt my eyes pop and leak down my cheeks. Then some unknowable time later, as my bones turned to molten searing cinders, it all started again, or continued. The story of third degree burns being painless didn''t seem to apply to me, as I could feel the terrible heat invasively ashing everything to the center of my being, and then, seemingly with pause or recovery, doing it again and again. The mind can adjust to almost anything, and eventually, the pain ceased to be all encompassing, just agonizingly ever present, and with that I learned about the pain of drowning in an endlessly black ocean. I had always disliked the empty depths of the ocean stretching down beneath my feet and now I was suffocating continuously without ever truly drowning, held on the cusp of misery without blacking out while a dark terror of the black space that surrounded me grew into an ever present horror on par with my indescribable suffering. My mind began to conjure shapes in the darkness and my incessant screaming, which never paused for breath, began to hear whispers in the dark. "...on''t do...is mind will break per..." "...as dignity and ho...isn''t evil, really." "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." The last words of a long and intense argument sank in fully and rebounded within my skull like a rhythm to the cacophony. I felt myself falling again, sinking into the depths and although I couldn''t scream anymore from the added terror, I tried. Chapter 1 - Undeath The agony of burning and drowning was over in an instant, but the memory of the pain and terror was enough to wipe out coherent thought for a small eternity. I reveled in the sensation of not burning to death and breathed in the darkness in hoarse shuddering gasps. Tears of relief trickled down my face and my mind was blank with the amazing comfort of breathing. After uncounted minutes, perhaps hours, reality took hold once again as my breathing calmed and I realized I felt cold. The sharp contrast was torturous and a hard flat surface froze against my back like laying on an ice cube. I groaned and writhed ineffectually. My entire body was sore and stiff in the aftermath of my emotional upheaval. Blinking my eyes seemed to do no good as a white after image of the explosion resisted fading way. I rolled onto my side and the motion overbalanced me. I fell onto a hard cold floor. The fall knocked the wind out of me, and I lay stunned as whispers of terror echoed the eternity of suffocating fire I still remembered vividly. I quickly controlled my breathing and banished the thought. Slowly, my senses began to acclimate and provide useful information. The floor was smooth and cold with a gritty layer of dirt or sand, almost like a dirty sheet of glass. My blindness wasn¡¯t because my vision was malfunctioning. The room was actually dark, even around the slowly fading spots in my eyes. The smell of must, age, and dirt greeted my nose. I began to wonder where the hell I was. Dust from my unceremonious landing tickled my nose and I coughed. I hacked up phlegm and felt my eyes water for several seconds until the fit passed. When it did, I felt mostly better, suspiciously so, even. I got to my hands and knees and leaned back against the block behind me, still feeling the cut of its chill, but not willing to test my legs yet. Like phantoms in daylight, the memories of hell began to fade away, the sensations too intense for my mind to retain in all their dreadful intensity. My eyes were rapidly adjusting to the tartarean darkness and dim shapes began to take form. The room wasn¡¯t terribly large, but appeared to be a place of worship. Some almost Grecian pillars held up the roof and a double row of pews stretch back to the far wall about ten deep. Assuming the stone block behind me was an altar stone, I¡¯d appeared in a shrine. More to the point, I wasn¡¯t alone. In the gloom, two figures were prostrated at the base of the two ceremonial steps of the dais I sat on, praying to the altar I sat against. The were both so motionless that for a moment I thought they were both statues with one oddly uncentered for a work of sculpture. After several minutes, one on the left shifted its weight that I realized my error. Immediately on the heels of that realization came a cascade of similar, but rapidly more alarming realizations. She must have been waiting there, motionless, throughout my awakening. For the first time, I tried to think back past hell, but my mind refused to trespass into the eternity of pain to think of anything prior. I obviously still retain knowledge, like language, but I couldn''t think of anything, even my name, from before that mind warping agony. A distant flicker of thought suggested that I was naked in front of a stranger. Although the thought was insignificantly off putting, it didn''t even register on my expanded scale of suffering. Still, after a minute of laziness, I rolled over and crawled to the back of the altar, safely out of eyeshot. The cold began to sink into my bones and changed from novel and comforting to mildly uncomfortable as I studied the statue. Behind the altar was a larger than life sized statue that could easily have stood in as the grim reaper, if only it had a scythe instead of simply a long straight pole, like those poles used to push a boat along a shallow canal. The seconds ticked passed and I began to wonder just what I was doing here, apparently not dead. My mind again recoiled from looking back into what I was simply calling hell and deep feeling of gratitude welled up within me that I was here, no matter where here was, instead of there. For a few minutes, my mind wrestled with trying to make a decision with literally no information past or future on where or who I was. Eventually, I found myself just staring up at the statue, mind blank, feeling the cold seep into my bones in a way that was both painful and comforting at the same time. It seemed to say, ¡®Here is the ground. You are on it. This is real.¡¯ ¡°Min Mandrhytnes,¡± I heard. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I literally jumped, gaining several inches and cracking my elbow painfully against the smooth stone altar. I abruptly remember that there was a woman over there. This was a church. Perhaps she was praying now? I waited patiently. I felt that it was impolite to interrupt a prary. Either she would get up and leave soon, or continue praying. Either way, I was pretty happy right where I was for the moment. Just a little longer, and then I¡¯ll think of tomorrow, or tonight, or something. ¡°Min Mandrhytnes¡± she said. I heard the rustling of cloth in the silence ¨C the sound of the woman standing and approaching. I considered running for a moment, but I realized her approach held no terror. In fact, I began to feel my curiosity stir. It was a strange senstation. I had felt nothing by fear and relief as far back I could remember and I embraced the emotion like a long lost friend. She apparently had something to say to someone over in this direction. Maybe it was customary to directly address the statue at the end of your worship? That seemed reasonable enough to my faded sentiments. A long wool blanket slid over the altar and fell on me. No, not a blanket, a full cape or mantle with a hood. It was appropriate gear for all your SCA or Renfair needs. It smelled lightly of jasmine and obviously belonged to the woman. I felt my stomach drop to the floor as I realized she must be addressing me. What¡¯s more, she was being exceptionally kind. I quickly pulled the cape around my shoulders. With a little effort the front would stay closed, and if I wanted, I could pull the hood up and hide my face in its deep cowl. With clothing, I suddenly felt the need to go out and meet the world, so I smoothly rose to my feet and peered over the altar. The woman, standing a moment ago, swiftly prostrated herself, which coincidentally hid her from sight. I walked around the altar and held the cape close to enjoy the borrowed warmth. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. My voice sounded weird to my mind, deeper and harsher than it should be. Seconds passed but I knew she had been waiting patiently all this time. Only I now understood that she had been waiting patiently for me. Apparently, it was up to me to take the lead. ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked. A visible shudder passed through the woman as I put the question to her. She spoke into the ground, muffled but intelligible. ¡°Bia Keres, Mandrhytnes min.¡± Bia? Was that a name? She acted like I was someone important though. I didn¡¯t understand ¡®Mandrhytnes min¡¯, but she showed me sincere respect. That brought up another good question. ¡°Who am I?¡± I asked rhetorically. She replied more forcefully than before, ¡°tu bist Ker¡¯Haros, Ceosan¡¯sylfum¡¯cwalu, anfalde Scinnlaecan.¡± The heck was that? Still, clearly she answered my question, so she must understand me, even if she her reply was indecipherable. I would hazard another question. ¡°I¡¯d like to rest. Do you know somewhere I can stay for the night?¡± The woman finally looked up and I was stunned by her beauty. Long lashes, brilliant blue eyes, and the finest of classical middle eastern features. Black hair framed her face under her hood. She rose to her feet in a whisper of cloth and I saw she was wearing a dark robe, but one tailored for freedom of movement and cinched at the waist with a belt. A long staff set witha crystal at the end flowed into her hand like an extension of her body. For a moment, I literally felt pierced through, and then I just felt sick. My heart should be beating. I should be feeling attraction, trepidation, embarrassment, fear, worry, and a host of other emotions, but they were all oddly muted and distant. Instead, what most stood out was that in the moment our eyes met, I felt and heard absolutely nothing in the pristine silence of the shrine. My blood didn¡¯t rush in my ears. My heart didn¡¯t beat. No hormones ran about distractingly. The pain where I banged my elbow and the cold soaking into my feet didn¡¯t distract me even a little. ¡°Min aefterhyrigest,¡± she said. For the first time, her voice was clear and directed toward me. Her voice was low for a woman ¨C an alto if she sang. She had the calm clear speech of one who acts with certainty, always. She motioned for me to follow as she led the way. Numbly, in more ways than one, I followed her toward the entrance to the shrine. I wasn¡¯t dead, but it seemed I also wasn¡¯t precisely alive, either. Chapter 2 - The Smell of Death The door of the shrine opened onto a deep stair rising steeply to the left from the entryway. I suppose I climbed about three stories, but there were was only one landing at the top and an otherwise steady rise of stair after stair until we stepped out of a nondescript wooden door into what could only qualify as a rather dingy, narrow alleyway. Far above, a narrow slice of nighttime sky offered a few paltry stars. I wasn¡¯t any kind of astronomer, but something felt off about their color. Bia led the way at a cautious pace and stopped at the entrance to the alleyway, checking both directions with unexpected paranoia. After a moment, she beckoned me to follow and we stepped out on a street straight out of the Arabian Nights. One and two story clay or brick buildings lined the streets, often with narrow alleyways like the one we just exited in between them. All in all, the buildings were in fairly decent shape, although some seemed to have been patched rather obviously. I didn¡¯t have too much time to observe as Bia picked up her pace. I suddenly felt something like a cold wind along with an instinctual urge to look into one of the many dead end alleys. I again felt the stirrings of curiosity and immediately bowed to its will. I tapped Bia, motioning for her to follow me. She wordlessly altered direction and trailed me two paces behind as I strode confidently into the alleyway at the behest of an extra sense. Intellectually, I knew that the darkness of a shadowy alleyway on a moonless night should be impenetrable to my normal eyesight. Still, as before in the shrine, I found that I could see clearly. I even saw color and detail, if only for a short distance. Within a few paces, I found what I was seeking. There, huddled at the base of the wall, I saw a beggar. His clothing hadn¡¯t been clean since before he wore it and his age could be anything from 50 to 90, but the old man was obviously in the throes of his last breaths on earth. As I watched, his breath rattled in and out laboriously. I remembered suddenly the image of my grandfather, a man I knew briefly, lying twisted in his hospital bed after the last pains of death stripped his soul from his body. It hadn¡¯t been pretty then and even now, years later, I felt only confused emotions. Bia was safely behind me, and this man was no longer seeing this world, so I knelt by his side, taking one of his gnarled and grimy hands in my own. Instantly, he grasped it, but his grip was weak. I could feel just how thin he was from illness and want. His rheumy eyes opened, staring blankly into the dark night. His other hand grasped mine as well and I sensed the depth of his emotion as he suddenly felt the touch of another in the darkest final hour of his life. It was only a few minutes as he lay, suffering the final pains of death, before his breath rattled out for the last time and his spirit left his mortal coil. I felt his soul drain out of his body and pool in my hand and a sweet grayish light stayed cradled in my palm as I stood. I seemed to have his soul? After a few seconds, the glow sank into my palm. I guess his soul was going to be kept the same place mine was, roughly. I was momentarily concerned about the state of my soul and the nature of life and death itself. However, I clearly knew of something between here and the immemorial past. I didn''t doubt the existence of a soul. My musings were interrupted by a small blue window which appeared semitransparently in front of my vision.
Soul Gained: Ham the Beggar
The enormity of what I¡¯d just witnessed and done shook my fragile stability. Numbly, I turned back to Bia and she led me again out into the street. I simply watched her heels as she led me through the empty streets as my mind began to rapidly spiral with thoughts of life, death, the afterlife, and the existence and nature of souls. Eventually, we entered some kind of building and she talked to a stranger in low tones before leading me by the hand into another room where there was a bed. ¡°Sleep,¡± she told me, indicating the bed. Just like that, I collapsed and slept like a stone.
Pleasant afternoon sunlight arced through the weeping willows scattered along the banks of a placid stream. The water flowed slow and deep and the far shore was about 20 feet away. The fishing pole in my hands hadn¡¯t seen a bite in quite some time and wouldn¡¯t for a while. If I¡¯d wanted to catch something, I would have baited the hook. Everything was perfect just the way it was ¨C napping in the late afternoon and feeling the cool breeze sift through the fading heat of the day. ¡­ ¡­. ¡­.. Wait, what was I doing here? I remembered this from when I was a young man decades ago, but I was a young man now. Since when did I ever fish? I didn''t even like fishing. The passivity of it offended my needed to be active and doing. I was struck with a sudden sensation of duality and distortion. The world seemed to warp as I shook my head and soon I found myself clothed in my normal clothes ¨C cargos and a tshirt. Next to me was a rather homely looking kid with milk jug ears sticking out on either side of his face and a dopey grin like some sort of easily distracted cow. His clothes were the traditional V-neck peasant shirt and laced breaches. I shook my head again, but he didn¡¯t go anywhere. Who the hell was this guy? ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Ham. How¡¯re ya doin?¡± He said in broad country accent. His style and mannerism marked him as a lazy character. Someone who didn¡¯t particularly want to hurry up with anything in life. He seemed to be incredibly content to just sit by the slow moving stream and listen to the buzz of insects. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m¡­¡± I trailed off. ¡°I don¡¯t seem to remember. Cardboard Deathsomthing?¡± Ham chuckled. ¡°You sound like you been up drinking too much, but it ain¡¯t the morning after. You can always just check yer status, right?¡± ¡°Status?¡± As I said it, a blue message appeared floating in the air.
STATUS
NameKer¡¯Haros
AlignmentNeutral
RaceUnknownLevel1
ClassThe Necromancer
TitleChosen of Death
Protection0Defense15
Health12Mana10
Strength18Dexterity15
Constitution--Intellect12
Wisdom12Charisma16
Reputation0Souls0
The newly Chosen of Death. He has yet to do anything truly significant and, so far, most of the world remains oblivious to his existence.
¡°What¡¯s this!?¡± I exclaimed. ¡°Are you seeing this?¡± ¡°Nah, only you can see it. ¡®Sides, the status screen is something that tends to vary a touch between folks. It represents your skills in a way you can unnerstand,¡± Ham explained. ¡°So, what does yours say,¡± I asked, curious. ¡°Mine mostly jus¡¯ sayz ¡®Ham¡¯ with some titles and whatnot. Nothin important. Nothin excitin,¡± Ham answered. I detected a hint of evasiveness in his answer, but I let it slide. ¡°Well, this says my name is Ker¡¯Haros,¡± I said, returning to the beginning of our conversation. ¡°Lords, ain¡¯t that a mouthful,¡± Ham chuckled. ¡°Yeah, it really is¡­¡± I agreed. I poked around my memory looking for a different name, but that line of questioning ran into abrupt red pain that quickly deterred me. I rubbed my temple as the glare of remembered agony faded. ¡°Oh well, not that important I suppose. After all, it¡¯s just you and me, right?¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Sure thing, hoss,¡± Ham agreed. A few seconds ticked by. ¡°So, where am I and what am I doing here?¡± I asked. I was amazed that the question only now occurred to me. ¡°This right here is the closest thing to heaven I can imagine,¡± Ham replied. He stretched luxuriously in the afternoon rays of the sun and lay back on the grassy bank. The fishing pole he propped up between a couple convenient rocks. ¡°And what I¡¯m doing is enjoying my afterlife to the best of my ability.¡± He grinned at me and his teeth were a bit crooked and gap toothed. I processed what he said slowly. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re dead and this is your heaven. What am I doing here?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Ham asked. I shook my head in the negative. ¡°Then I suppose it¡¯s cause I¡¯m sorta sharing space, as it were. I¡¯m just the ride along in the back of your noggin, afterall.¡± ¡°Oh, right¡­ what?¡± He chuckled at me, which kind of annoyed me, since I seemed to be being made fun of by the most bumpkinish of all country bumpkins. ¡°You can¡¯t put two and two together? Well, I spent a lot of years livin on dem streets after my back quit and I couldn¡¯t work no more. Been a beggar for more years than I care to remember.¡± My eyes widened as I finally started connecting the fluorescent blinking dots. ¡°Yep, I don¡¯t mind hanging out with ya, since you took the time to help me out of the world. That was a kind thing when I¡¯d thought I¡¯d never see another kindness in this world.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Should I say that world? Well, since I¡¯m sharing yer head, I ¡®spose I¡¯m still in it more or less, right?¡± I felt the sun getting in my eyes and no matter how I turned my head, it seemed like there was a brilliant glare. ¡°Um, yeah, I suppose so. Dang that¡¯s bright.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll talk summore later. It ain¡¯t like I¡¯m going anywhere. Seems like our time for this is about up, though.¡± I tried to respond but that glare was really distracting and I found myself blinking and struggling to get away from it instead.
I awoke to light shining in my eyes. The angle of the sun through a low window told me it was well into day. I struggled to remember where I was through all my mental travels. The bed I lay on was merely a cloth bag full of straw and my blanket had been the mantle Bia gave me at our meeting. Instead of my alarm clock, sounds of an open market drifted in from a small window next to the bed. The cracked adobe of the walls revealed wooden support poles and golden motes of floating dust hung permanently in the still air. A low wooden door just past the foot of the bed would lead out into the rest of the building. Compared to the roar of traffic and the white noise of air conditioning, it felt incredibly idyllic. I tried to trace the connection my mind had just drawn and immediately the looming terror of my stint in hell derailed the thought process. It seemed that I could only make these connections passively, but I couldn''t think too hard about it. The threat of remembered pain faded and I felt refreshed. After a few more moments, the various prickles of straw poking through the bed convinced me to rise, careful to watch my head in the slightly cramped room. A clay bowl and pitcher seemed to be the standard of morning hygiene, so I took a few moments to wash. I only just reached for the washcloth when I realized that something was severely amiss. I allowed myself an inward chuckled. Something new was severely amiss. It seemed that I¡¯d changed color. Something about that tickled my sense of humor since, after everything else, how could I look at changing color as even noteworthy? It took a distant third after hideously burning in hell and waking up again in a new world. I checked to make sure the door was closed and examined my body in the light of day. In the dark of night, I¡¯d somehow overlooked it, but now it was unmistakable. I had gotten a brand new body. First of all, the idea that Bia was relatively short and this room was cramped were misconceptions due in part to my own changed appearance. I stood easily six and a half feet tall. Bia was likely nearly six feet tall herself and the room was rather average in size. What¡¯s more, I had muscles like I had never even seen on anyone but a professional body builder. Every inch of my body seemed to be rock hard. My skin was pitch black, exactly the shade of the typical black plastic used on my old tv set, stereo, and game console. The precise memory threatened a spike of pain and I quickly moved my attention forward. For all my oddities, I would have looked like a rather normal, if large, human, but I ascertained that my ears were long and pointed, too. Finally, my forearms were wrapped in jagged nearly neon green colored tattoos, almost like geometric or celtic designs. The ones on my right arm even seemed to glow slightly, although the lighting made it hard to be certain. I looked at my faded reflection in the surface of the water and saw traces of a more familiar appearance that remained like remnants under my new face. I could see it in the cut of my jaw, the shape of my nose, and the angle of my eyes. My hair was a dark red, easily mistaken for brown in normal cases, but it showed bloody red in contrast to my skin. However, my eyes were a solid neon green, just as my tattoos. No one would be mistaking me for human. Judging by the old beggar, Ham, from last night, human was still a fairly common state of being. ¡°Ham?¡± I called softly. I felt a vague response in acknowledgement. It seemed like I¡¯d actually harvested his soul last night. What the was with that? I shook my head. There were too many things to worry about and too much to think about right now. Right now, the simple necessities of life would come first. No more thinking about the past and not too much thinking about the future. A familiar tune about the ''bear necessities'' made me chuckle as I washed my face and rinsed my mouth. I still felt hungry, so apparently that phrase did still apply in some capacity. I still remembered my status screen, though which had a dashed constitution score. That was a cardinal trait of undead, I knew, although I didn''t know specifically why I knew. I looked around for clothes, but all that was available was my cloak from last night. That hardly qualified as appropriate attire. Common sense said I should just wait for Bia to reappear, but for all I knew, she¡¯d realized her mistake in the light of day and left for good. That was a sobering thought. I put the cloak back on, proud of how it reached all the way down to my calves. It was black and with a flip of my wrists, I put the hood up and arranged it to shadow my face. I also found laces along the front of it for tying it up against inclement weather. I could provide myself with the basics of modesty, at least tenuously. Still, if anyone ran into me or if I had to run, I¡¯d be on display to the world. I opened the door into the hallway, and found Bia sitting cross legged. She smoothly rose to her feet, presenting me with a stack of clothing with her head bowed forward and her ever present staff held underneath. I stood stock still for a moment before I accepted the clothes, at which point to she sank back into a cross legged position, her staff across her lap. Maybe she meditated? I slowly shut the door. Geez, how long had that woman been waiting? It must be closer to noon than morning. Couldn¡¯t she have just knocked on the door and woken me up? It occurred to me that we were going to have a serious heart to heart discussion¡­ after I got dressed¡­ and learned the language. The clothes included a pair of black leather pants. A little too metal for my tastes, but I¡¯d take what I could get. There was underwear, thankfully, cause I can only imagine the chafing otherwise. Aside from that, there was a button up shirt and black leather vest. All in all, once I threw the full mantle back on, I felt like a cross between a biker, a cowboy, and a LARPer. What I didn¡¯t feel was naked, so it was definitely good. Time to challenge the day and see if I could figure out what the hell was going on. Wait, one thing at a time. I should try get some lunch. Chapter 3 - Out on the Town I bravely stepped outside my room. Bia smoothly rose to her feet and assumed a half bowing position, sort of like a martial arts bow, but with her hands holding her staff low in front of her.? I sidestepped to get some space. She didn¡¯t feel any need to move. I waited for a second or two before I remembered that I was waiting on the girl who had patiently spent better than half the morning waiting in the hallway to hand me a set of clothes. I was pretty sure she wasn¡¯t going to grow a demanding nature now. ¡°Follow me. Let¡¯s see if they serve lunch here,¡± I said. I mentally kicked myself. It seems like I couldn¡¯t even be bothered with a please or thank you, but I felt like it was too late to say anything now. She wordlessly fell into step a pace behind me and to the left. We entered the common room of the inn, and I had to admit, it didn¡¯t strike me as upscale. The floor was hardened earth, as well as two of the walls, and the other two walls were badly patched with mud or concrete of some kind. A handful of tables and a smoky fireplace rounded out the furnishings, but the most important part of the room had to be the long bar that ran from the end of the hallway where I stood to the front door. Several kegs of beverages, probably alcoholic, lined the wall behind the counter and a dozen hooks for holding room keys were all the professional accoutrements of the combination inn, restaurant, and bar. I was a little bit familiar with the way things were usually done in other cultures, so it didn¡¯t surprise me that there wasn¡¯t a menu. I noticed that there was a waitress, though, so I figured sitting down and waiting for service would work. I found a nearby table which, like all of the rest, had seen better days. Colorful profanities and some rather vulgar carvings decorated the surface. I wasn¡¯t sure what language it was, exactly, but I didn¡¯t have any trouble understanding it and I even knew that most of it was spelled wrong. That¡¯s nifty. Wait, I could read these? Sure, I understood it like it was my native language, but this wasn¡¯t even an alphabet I¡¯d seen prior to this moment. Was that because of Ham? I got the mental equivalent of a ghostly thumbs up. I needed to work on this soul communication stuff. Only talking during dreams was going to leave a lot to be desired. ¡°Excuse me, sir, can I get you something?¡± I looked up. It was the waitress. She was a cute black eyed black haired girl and probably only about 15. It¡¯s a shame that was a little too young for me. I mentally slapped myself and focused on the larger picture. She wasn¡¯t speaking English. Just as I¡¯d suspected, I could understand the language now. Time to give the new language a spin. ¡°Ah, I was here overnight. I believe that comes with a meal?¡± I hazarded. ¡°Of course, sir,¡± she replied. ¡°We have soup, bread, and ale on tap. What would you like, sir?¡± Ale? Blegh, I tried fake ale once. I doubt the real and alchoholic version was any better. ¡°I¡¯ll take soup and bread, but I¡¯d appreciate some clean water, rather than ale,¡± I answered. ¡°Yes, sir. Right away, sir.¡± She awkwardly curtsied, which I didn¡¯t think was standard fare for customers, and headed for the kitchen. I hadn''t heard sir so many times in a single conversation since I visited a basic training unit as an officer in the army. I suppose it had something to do with my new appearance. I was never this physically impressive before I died. I clenched my fist, experimentally and just felt powerful, in a way I never had before. I bet I could cause some serious damage, even with my bare hands. Bia had posted herself near at hand and stood watching me and I realized with a start that we could talk. I mean, she apparently understood me in the first place, but now I could understand her too. ¡°Bia?¡± ¡°Bia Keres, my Lord,¡± she corrected. I guess she valued the name for some reason. It was a name or a title Ham had never heard before, since I didn¡¯t get any other meaning out of the words. ¡°Bia Keres,¡± I said, thinking rapidly of my options. Part of me wanted to come clean with my ignorance, but I was tensely aware that I didn¡¯t want to try to survive in this world all by myself, for all that I maintained a confident exterior. I frowned as I noticed she was still standing. I motioned for her to sit. I had to do it twice more, each time more emphatically, before she finally leaned her staff against the wall and sat across from me. I considered my next words carefully. I didn¡¯t want to lie, so I started asking leading questions working from my suppositions. ¡°What preparations have you made for my coming?¡± I asked. Since it seemed pretty obvious she hadn¡¯t found me by accident, that seemed a really safe question. ¡°My Lord, I have a small amount of wealth and I am highly trained to aid you in your journey south. There is a weapon for you as well, but I have hidden it, lest it bring premature attention to you.¡± I nodded like that all made sense. I lowered my voice somewhat, despite the rowdy nature of the inn¡¯s common room. ¡°Are any enemies aware that I have arrived?¡± I was really hoping for a blank expression and something equivalent to ¡®what enemies?¡¯ as a response. I was disappointed. ¡°Aside from the six, there should be no others,¡± she answered. Obviously, she seemed to expect me to know who ¡®the six¡¯ were without being told, lovely. I¡¯d never had an enemy in my life, and now I had six and, given the way she used that almost like a title, they were probably pretty tough. ¡°And the six, how long until they¡¯re prepared to act against me?¡± I asked, again with the fading hope she¡¯d be giving me blank looks and saying, ¡®never¡¯. No such luck. ¡°They are aware of your arrival, but with luck they must still awaken before they can pursue you. You have time to gather your strength.¡± Great, she was seeing through my little charade. Still, that was important information. Whatever awakening meant, and it didn¡¯t seem to imply getting out of bed, I had until they got off their sorry butts to come hunt me down. I¡¯d better get my rear in gear. My food arrived while I was thinking, without me noticing. First, what were my skills? I felt a spiritual nudge from Ham and realized that if checking my innermost workings was as simple as saying status in this world, then skills were probably something I could display too. ¡°Skills¡± I said, acting on my hunch.
Soul Gatherer
The Necromancer is the master of the souls of the dead. With this ability, he can capture a soul and keep it. This allows him to use the creature''s memories and knowledge as though it were his own to the extent that the creature permits or cannot resist. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Passive and Active Mana Cost: 0
Death Sense
The Necromancer is the master of death. He instinctively knows when someone is about to die and the major cause of death. He can also sense the aura of death on places and objects that have seen much death or are haunted by spirits or the undead. Passive Mana Cost: 0
I suppose that explains how I got Ham. It certainly didn¡¯t elaborate much, though. Still, it looked like gathering power was synonymous with gathering souls, at least if I wanted to go any faster than very, very slow. I wasn¡¯t any kind of genius back home, just a guy with a good memory and lots of practice with codes and numbers. I wasn¡¯t keen on dying again. The mere thought brought me a glancing reference to the unmentionable pains of hell. I began to eat my meal to escape the thought, barely tasting the food except to note that it wasn¡¯t terrible. Now that I knew what it was, I began to pay attention to that strange tickle in the back of my head. As I did, I felt my gaze drawn to a place somewhere past the wall of the common room. A place so loaded with death, I was stunned I hadn¡¯t noticed it immediately. I must have been deliberately ignoring it. I finished eating while I tested the sensation. ¡°Bia Keres,¡± I said, catching her attention. ¡°Yes, my Lord?¡± "What''s over there?" I asked, pointing in the direction I sensed. She looked in the direction of my gesture and seemed to ponder her response for a moment before she replied. "That way leads along the main thoroughfare, the market, the arena, and lastly the Palace of Lords." I nodded in response. An arena could certainly generate an aura of death, not the way a battlefield would do it with thousands dying together, but trickle by trickle as the lives of the contestants bled out on the ground. "What do you know of the arena?" I asked. "The arena here has a mixed reputation," Bia answered frowning. "It is voluntary to enter and participate without any use of slaves or prisoners. Most of the battles are not against other humanoids, and the battles between humans are not usually to the death. However, persistent rumors claim that contestants never really have a chance and the arena champion is determined by political intrigue more than combat skills. I have not researched it properly enough to give you more information. Would you like me to do so, my Lord?" "No, that''s alright," I answered. "Can you tell me how long it''s been operating?" "The arena has been operating for nearly two centuries, my Lord," Bia answered. I frowned. "How long has the city been around?" "The city traces its roots back to before the cataclysm, my Lord. It has always been here." My frown intensified. "Yet, I sense older death in the Arena." Bia Keres remained silent in the face of my commentary. "Let''s go investigate it, Bia," I said. "Bia Keres, my Lord," she responded, yet she snagged her staff from where it rested and fell in behind me as I left the inn. A wall of noise, color, and smells assaulted me as I stepped outside. The sheer mass of people and the babble and stench momentarily disoriented me as I experienced, for the first time, the busy city street of a medieval fantasy city. At least, I had to assume as much, since the beings crowding along the street weren¡¯t all human. Thankfully, the inn¡¯s front door opened into a lowered landing a few stair steps down from the street and we were protected from the press of the crowd. Along the street in both directions there were shops, stalls, and carts lining the streets, picking up, dropping off, buying, and selling in a cacophony of yells, bartering, and animal noises. The occasional mounted figure moved through the foot traffic. I was gratified to see that the creatures they rode were very similar to horses and Ham¡¯s supporting knowledge flowed in to tell me that there weren¡¯t any significant differences between many animals in my home world and the ones that existed here, although I was no zoologist. With a deep breath, I plunged into the crowd with Bia following tightly behind. It was necessary, but I occasionally felt her bump against my arm with her shoulder or breast. It was a little distracting. Still, the pull of my goal was ever uppermost in my mind as we pushed through the throngs of people. Luckily, it seemed that most of them were moving in my direction. I noticed a young man and his girl chatting as they traveled the same way. The young man seemed to drip recent violent death. I concentrated to pick out the conversation of those around us. ¡°¡­blood! Haha!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Watching those poor fools who think they can win so easily get slaughtered just gets me in the mood, you know.¡± The girl tittered cutely at his unsympathetic statement and something very different went by in her face. ¡°Oh, I know,¡± she laughed. ¡°So, the first fight is this brawl with all the first participants just killing each other left and right. They have to do it with these really cruddy weapons, too, so it takes forever! I remember last time¡­¡± I quit listening as he began a graphic description of bloody violent inefficient death. I was appalled to learn that although death wasn''t mandated, most of the contestants would end up dead either from other contestants or monstrous foes. Apparently, undead, animals, and similar powerful but manageable creatures were very popular. ¡°Bia Keres, I¡¯ll need my weapon,¡± I said. "You mentioned you had one prepared if I was ready?" ¡°This way, my Lord,¡± she responded. She took the lead and I followed as she led me into the surrounding alleyways. I had thought that the streets were always this busy and that we were on a main street, but I soon found that all the streets headed into the center of town were similarly packed, mostly with arena-goers, while the several alleyways and cross streets were empty or lightly trafficked. Before long, Bia had led me into a painfully shady portion of town. The lingering taint of recent death seemed to have touched nearly every inch of this place and I wasn¡¯t too surprised when she led me to a ramshackle two story building on a curiously deserted street. I¡¯d sensed our destination several streets ago. How could I not? It was obviously haunted. Chapter 4 - A Haunted House The old house wasn¡¯t a mansion, thankfully, but it had a fence with a broken gate and a fairly spacious yard. The yard was overgrown with dead brown weeds and wilted flowers. The fence itself was wrought iron and rusted looking. Naturally, as I stepped closer, the broken gate managed to sway without the presence of wind and made a mournful squeal. I pushed through the gate, eliciting a more painful screech and looked back as I felt Bia¡¯s sudden absence. She stood beyond the fence with her staff planted. My pulse began to pound in my throat and I quietly cleared my throat. ¡°Is something wrong, Bia Keres?¡± I asked, carefully calling her by her preferred name. ¡°I will wait here, my Lord,¡± she responded quietly, eyes downcast. So, that must be it. This would be a test. I merely nodded to show that I understood and turned back to the building. I took another steadying breath and stepped up to the front door. For whatever reason, perhaps just whimsy, I clapped the bronze door knocker three times. To my surprise, I heard a faint but clear invitation, although the sound seemed to rise from the walls and whisper off the weathered wood in a way that proved it was no living voice. Part of me was thoroughly wishing I could run for my life and I felt the spike of adrenaline of a potentially dangerous situation, but for all that my mind remained more cool and analytical than I would ever have managed in my previous life. I could only assume it must be a perk of this new body. I pushed open the door, which groaned with the sincere feeling of true misery. As I stepped into the foyer of the home, I saw a staircase running up the leftmost wall along with doorways to other parts of the house in front to both sides. My eyes were drawn to the top of the staircase where I saw an ephemeral woman dressed in the kind of transparent nightgown saved for lovers and husbands. She rushed out through the closed door on the left of the second floor balcony and we locked eyes. Her face lit up with a sincere smile and I felt like a thief, standing in someone else¡¯s spotlight. ¡°..honey, your ho-¡° As she spoke, she darted forward, but her foot turned as she reached first step. With a forlorn cry, her body began a slow dive down the stairs. I forgot entirely that this was the remnant of someone already gone and instead felt the horror of watching tragic death in motion. I struggled to rush forward against a sudden miasma of dread that strove to lock me in place. Her body tumbled in slow motion, bouncing once in the middle of the staircase. My body refused to move any faster as I too seemingly swam through dark jellied haze, desperate to save here from the final fatal landing. Against the constraints of history and inevitability, I reached the base of the stair and she fell into my arms, like a beautiful broken angel. ¡°¡­home¡­¡± she whispered - or the walls did. Her eyes locked with mine and her hand touched my face. Helplessly, I let her kiss me as the last glow of life faded from her eyes. I felt the chill of death on my lips and cheek as my tattoos began to pulse. She smiled as she faded from sight.
Soul Gained: Samantha
Second Sight
You have learned to see the souls of the departed who linger in the mortal realm. They can interact with you and you with them. Passive Mana Cost: 0
¡°Dammit, not now,¡± I muttered, shaking my head to drive away the unwanted blue boxes. I saw that the girl¡¯s, Samantha¡¯s, soul was pooled in my hand like a puddle of silvery moonlight. As I watched, she faded away and the glow of the tattoos on my arm intensified.
You have gained an innocent soul.
¡°Like I didn¡¯t know that,¡± I muttered. I brushed away the blue window, this time with merely a thought. She was gone and many of the feelings of dread and horror lightened. I suppose only someone like me who could interact with the spirits in their realm could have rescued her from eternally repeating her death, although maybe burning the house down would do the trick. Actually, that still sounded like a pretty good idea, but unlike most horror movies, I still had a good reason to stay in here before I improved the real estate values in the neighborhood. I headed toward the center of the malaise overlaying the house, a mix of death, grief, and horror. The very air seemed hard to breath and hard to move through. Simply climbing the staircase had me breathing hard, which once again caused me to question the nature of my body. The door at the top of the stair dripped¡­ tears, not blood as I first suspected. I tasted one and it was distinctly salty. Still, they trickled down the door in distinct tear tracks, in no way similar to simple condensation. I touched the handle of the door and it was so cold it burned. I tightened my grip and cranked the reluctant knob around until I felt the latch stop, then I put my shoulder into the door and shoved the reluctant thing open.
You have taken 3 cold damage.
¡°Yes, and my hand is numb, little blue screen,¡± I growled.
Your right hand has been numbed due to cold and suffers -80% flexibility and strength.
I just grunted as I mentally flicked that window away as well. The room beyond was crying. Tears wept from the walls and dripped from the ceiling while the floor squelched under my footsteps, but the air was bone dry like the crisp frozen air of the north. In fact, my senses were telling me this room should be too cold for flowing water. In the center of the room, a desiccated corpse hung from the rafter overhead and tears still sprang from its eyes to drip down its sunken cheeks and drop from its chin. I wasn¡¯t surprised when I felt a wave of energy sweep over the room. The door behind me swung violently closed and locked itself, while a spirit rose from the bed, as though rising from sleep. It was the spirit of a young man, indistinct in its features, aside from the awful and permanent grief etched into its face and the steady tear drops that fell from its eyes. I watched as it walked across the room and began to pen a letter. ¡°I¡¯m sorry sorry..........¡± The word sorry continued to echo and repeat, bouncing around the room until it sounded like the massive roar of the ocean, though still distinct enough to hear the word repeat. The rest of his words barely managed to rise above the tide of apology. ¡°I should have caught you that night. I went out drinking with my friends, even though I knew you were waiting for me. I wanted to share my new happiness with everyone I knew. I thought we would be together forever. If I had been sober, I¡¯d have reached the bottom of the stair before you landed, my love. Since I¡¯ve killed you, I can¡¯t live anymore. Rather than this waking death, I will come to you.¡± The spirit put down it¡¯s quill and stepped over to the noose. He climbed onto the end table, although the end table lay fallen already. ¡°Stop,¡± I whispered. I realized my eyes were wet and part of me wanted a noose of my own right now. The spirit simply looked at me and smiled as he slipped the ready noose over his head. ¡°Sorry,¡± he mouthed, but the word was lost in the background regret. ¡°Stop!¡± I yelled more forcefully and managed to take another squelching step forward, but the spirit merely smiled as it kicked away the end table under its feet. I heard the audible snap as his neck broke from the sudden drop and the sound seemed to startle the babble into stillness. Part of me was grateful that he knew how to tie a noose correctly, instead of choking to death slowly. Tears ran down the spirits face and merged into the still weeping corpse as it faded away. I felt the energy of the room shift and the spirit rose again from its bed and walked over to the desk. I felt the first stirrings of terror as the cycle repeated anew. I screamed at him to stop. His neck snapped. He rose again from his bed. I begged him to stop. His neck snapped. I blocked his path. He simply stepped through me. His neck snapped. I tried the door.
You have taken 3 cold damage. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.Your left hand has been numbed due to cold and suffers -80% flexibility and strength.
Now both hands were too numb to grip the door knob, or I would have tried again anyway, despite my rapidly failing health. I refused to watch the tragedy play through repeatedly, but the voices regretting and apologizing seemed to burrow into my head and the scene played out in my mind¡¯s eye right up the final crack when his neck snapped. Almost any escape was starting to look good. I turned around and watched the spirit walk past to the desk, but my gaze was locked on the noose. Almost any escape¡­ ¡°STOP!¡± I screamed, but the vignette played out, unstoppable, like a broken record, only it was a broken life stuck going around and around, punishing himself for the death of his wife, forever. ¡°Make it stop,¡± I whimpered, shielding my eyes with my hands. The unnatural glow of my tattoos brought back some semblance of my control. There was one person who could make this stop. There was one person who could convince him of his innocence, and only one. ¡°Samantha,¡± I called, remembering the name from the blue window I¡¯d read in passing. I held my right arm up, palm forward. ¡°Samantha,¡± I called strongly, ¡°tell him to stop.¡± I felt the stirrings of that new soul, wherever it was I was keeping them. I called to it, inviting it forward. I showed it the scene playing out, again, before my eyes. ¡°Samantha,¡± I called so soft the words were lost even to my own ears as voices of regret banged around the room like the clatter of broken dreams. A white silhouette flowed out of my palm and stepped forward, taking shape as the woman I had caught at the staircase. She slid forward, above the tears, seemingly cushioned on the air itself and as the man kicked away the end table, she caught him in her arms and held him, safe. Both spirits faded to tendrils of liquid black and silver that flowed back into my palm and sank into me.
Soul Gained: Eric
You have saved the soul of a suicide from torment. +5 Reputation +1 Luck +1 Leadership
You have learned the skill ¡°Manifest¡±.
Manifest
As the necromancer you can request or command the souls of the dead you own to manifest in the mortal realm as semi-physical ghostly apparitions. While manifested, they can talk, act, and speak according to the abilities they have gained in life and death. Activated Mana Cost: 2 per second
A wave of windows assaulted me, as the tears slowed and stopped on the walls and the miasma of despair and sadness faded away from overpowering to simply unnatural. I sank down against the door breathing hard, like I¡¯d just finished a four minute mile. The tears soaking the carpet soaked me too, but I didn¡¯t care at the moment. Even the corpse, hanging in the center of the room was something I could forget. After a few minutes, I read the messages before I shoved myself back up to my feet. For the first time, I explored deeper into the room. On the desk, I found a sheet of parchment, bone dry, except for the still wet droplets of recent tears which blurred some of the words out. I knew the contents by heart, but I lived in hope of forgetting them. Also on the desk, I found a heavily rusted key. I picked that up, assuming it would be something I needed. This was all a test, after all. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything else in the room. I wasn¡¯t even sure if I¡¯d needed to come in here. As I thought that, I felt an immense wave of gratitude from Samantha and for the first time in what felt like eternity, a sincere smile spread across my face. In that case, I suppose I¡¯m glad I did. I updated the mental note to figure out how to communicate more easily with the souls I found without having to go to sleep first. I stepped back onto the landing and reached out with my senses, as I was becoming accustomed to doing. It seemed that without these two, the house was bleeding off excess emotional energy at a great rate, but in the cellar, I sensed a different kind of death energy. It felt¡­ foreign to this house. I had a feeling that¡¯s what I was here for. In short order, I navigated through the, now, merely creepy house. The cellar was in the dusty kitchen, accessed through a trap door. Sure enough, there was a large iron padlock with a key hole I could practically put my finger in. I inserted the key and put a little muscle into it to get it to click open. With some trepidation, I descended the ladder. The cellar, thankfully, was simply a small room with mostly empty shelves. Although it was dark, I was finding more and more that my eyes really didn¡¯t care. Heck, I was pretty sure they were glowing, so maybe I made my own light somehow? Dead center of the middle shelf balanced on a kind of sword stand was a sword. I stepped forward cautiously, wary of some kind of final trap or test, but nothing happened as I picked it up. It was a beautiful piece of work, although rather plain. I carried it out into the kitchen where the light of day filtering through the grimy windows allowed me to identify colors. The Scabbard was pitch black, possibly ebony, and polished to a reflective shine. The weapon itself would probably qualify as a short sword, although it had a bit of curve to it, like some eastern Asian weapons. The handle was wrapped in black cloth with a long green tassel, while the blade was a simple, single edged affair with an almost liquid looking surface that rippled with greenish light. There weren¡¯t any emotions attached to the weapon. It simply carried the weight of many many deaths. This was either an exceedingly old sword, or a very busy one. I had a suspicion that it was probably both, in order for the efficient simplicity of pure death to have sunk into its blade to such an extent. There was a baldric for my belt and I attached the sword to it, adjusting it to ride behind my back. The handle ended up extending from behind my back to the right, which was appropriate for a backhand draw. I¡¯d have to practice with it¡­ oh, and learn how to use a sword. Still, I felt more comfortable carrying it. In only a few steps, I was leaving the old house behind with mixed feelings, predominantly relief. I realized, idly, that a large portion of that feeling stemmed from Eric and Samantha. Bia Keres was waiting outside and I thought I saw some expression flit over her features before they returned to their regular impassivity. She rose smoothly to her feet and assumed a slightly bowed posture. I felt relief of an entirely different kind just seeing that she was still here. I glanced at the sky and did a rough calculation. An hour , two maybe? My chorus of native souls agreed that it was merely one o¡¯clock. It certainly felt longer. I flexed my hands, painfully. They were now suffering shooting and sparkling pains as they unthawed. Bia Keres stepped forward and took one of my hands, concentrating silently for several seconds. The crystal on her staffed pulsed dimly as the pain faded and I felt my strength and flexibility return.
You have been healed for 6 hit points. The numbness in your hands is gone.
¡°Thank you, Bia,¡± I murmured. Part of me was shocked, but the more logical portion calmly noted that in a world with magic swords and deadly haunts, why wouldn¡¯t there be magic capable of healing. I felt her hands, roughened with calluses, but gentle and warm. ¡°I am Bia Keres,¡± she answered, but softened the subtle correction with a nearly imperceptible smile at the corner of her mouth. She withdrew her hand from mine but the warmth on my palm lingered for a moment. I flexed my fingers and half drew my sword, since I¡¯d heard that¡¯s what you did to check that a weapon would draw smoothly. It did draw smoothly, coming easily to hand. It wouldn¡¯t be a long draw to have it in my hand, since the blade was less than three feet long. ¡°Then we¡¯re ready,¡± I stated with more confidence than I felt. I cast out my senses and identified the arena once again and the old death hidden beneath it, then I led the way back through the narrow streets. Chapter 5 - The Arena The throngs of people had thinned only marginally as I rejoined the flow. There was a sense of urgency to their movement now and I unconsciously sped up as well, taking ground devouring strides that easily outdistanced everyone else. I was surprised how much faster I could walk with longer legs. As I progressed deeper into the city, I struggled to make sense of the bizarre architecture of the buildings. Many of them seemed to be built from the remains of previous buildings made from some other material. It confused me as to why they would go to the trouble of rebuilding three quarters of a wall. It didn¡¯t seem like it would be structurally sound, either. Perhaps, the original material was better than what was in use today? Or maybe it was prohibitively hard to get rid of the preexisting ruins? I left those musings behind as I entered a massive circular plaza. In the center of the plaza was a giant coliseum, very similar to the traditional roman model. It seemed to be at least 500 feet from the walls of the coliseum to the perimeter of the plaza in every direction, although I couldn¡¯t see the far side. Shops selling food, goods, weapons, slaves, exotic imports, beasts, and other things I didn¡¯t recognize ringed the edge of the open paved space. The street I was exiting had less traffic than several of the others, but the square itself was packed with people of all descriptions, with a massive crowd that gained density as it pushed towards the actual entrance to the arena. I forced myself to slow down and think for a moment. I snagged a chair in the seating area of an open air diner and gestured for Bia to join me. She reluctantly did so after I made the gesture again with extra emphasis. Now seated, I opened my senses wide and focused on the arena. Sure enough, the arena was the source of all the death, or more accurately, someplace beneath the arena, likely 100 feet or more underground. From this range, I was able to clearly separate the little deaths of the arena stage from the ancient mass of death underneath it. 200 years of dying gladiators had indeed made the arena a location relatively strong in death energy and probably populated by a small nation of restless spirits, but the power I sensed from beneath it made the gladiator ring look like a dim spark in front of a massive bonfire. Underneath the arena, there was a place of true power. I felt drawn to it and my rational mind didn''t object. I needed to gain power if I was going to be a challenge ''the Six'' whoever they were. Hell, I didn''t want to be a challenge. I wanted to be a steel plated hammer utterly crushed them. I nodded as I refocused my attention. I pushed the ever present sense of death to the back of my mind with difficulty. I could see that the lines were still going strong. I suppose I must have spaced out for about 10 minutes. I glanced at Bia and she met my eyes as I rose and moved toward the arena again. As I crossed the great plaza, I looked at the slow moving crowd. It looked like there was space for five people abreast to enter the arena by paying at evenly spaced booths. They had been shuffling inside for a while now. My mind boggled at the sheer numbers that must already be packed inside. There had to be thousands at least, maybe tens of thousands. They should be mostly spectators who wished to watch the blood sport. Waiting in line there would simply waste my time, so I proceeded to push forward through the crowd to a chorus of angry mutters. Thankfully, my rather impressive physique saved me from anything worse than curses and rude hand gestures. I did a double take as I spotted a line to the side of the main arena entryway. It was occupied by ghosts. This teller had a window built into the wall of the coliseum, rather than a standalone booth and he looked bored. I gritted my teeth and squeezed past the ghosts, giving an awkward apology for cutting in line now and then. They let me pass with nothing more than disgruntled looks and thankfully I didn¡¯t have to walk through any of them. ¡°What are you after, stranger?¡± the clerk in the window asked. He had watched me approach with evident amusement, since I seemed to be dancing around thin air from his point of view. ¡°I want to participate in the arena battle,¡± I answered. I was surprised at how calm and collected I sounded. I know I felt nervous and frazzled, but I wouldn¡¯t have known it from my voice. ¡°I want to participate, as well,¡± stated an equally calm feminine voice. I nearly jumped. I had completely forgotten that Bia¡¯Keres was still following me. ¡°Wait yer turn,¡± the clerk muttered. ¡°Do you know anything about the arena, stranger?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a place where people come to kill and die for the amusement of the masses,¡± I answered in my best deadpan. ¡°Sure, sure, but the important thing for blokes like you is the pay and the perks,¡± the clerk answered. I silently cringed at his grammar. ¡°You get paid gold every fight. The more you win, the more you get paid. If you survive the first fight, you will be given space in the rooms under the arena. If you die, all of your wealth and belongings will devolve to the coliseum. The arena is not responsible for any wounds you take and will not make allowances if you are maimed, blinded, or otherwise crippled.¡± I nodded. The clerk pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to me along with a quill and ink. ¡°Just make your mark there,¡± he said. I surprised and annoyed him by proceeding to scan the contract. ¡°No need to do that,¡± he encouraged. ¡°I already told you all the important bits.¡± I ignored his sales pressure and kept reading. Most of it was as he had said, along with specific payouts for fights won. A couple of the important bits he¡¯d failed to mention was that this was a contract for ten fights, in addition to a qualifying round which I wouldn¡¯t be paid for. You only got paid at the end of the ten fights and breach of contract also forfeited all payments. On top of that, it specifically mentioned that this was a solo contract. Bia Keres was with me and I didn¡¯t feel like going up against her, not to mention I wasn''t here to complete the ten fights. I wanted to figure out what was under the arena. I also noted that enemies could surrender and then it was up to the other fighter and the will of the crowd whether they were left alive or put to death. Fun times. I¡¯d try and be popular then for as long as I stayed. Also, not losing would be good. ¡°I want a contract for a pair,¡± I said, indicating Bia who stood at my elbow. He seemed relieved I only had that one complaint and swiftly provided me with another contract. This contract was actually for a group, I found, and allowed up to four party members. The pay was four times as great, as well, which meant that me and Bia, if we won, would be pulling down double the payout. I wasn¡¯t opposed to that at all, although part of me was wondering just how cocky I could afford to be. In any case, after a brief perusal during which I tuned out the clerk¡¯s prodding to hurry up, I signed the contract as Ker¡¯Haros and passed it to Bia, who signed it Bia Keres. ¡°Alright, finally,¡± the clerk complained as he tied the rolled up the contract with a red ribbon and tucked it into a cubbyhole inside his office. A door opened next to his office. ¡°Take the hallway straight down the main corridor and follow it as it curves until you reach door number four. Go inside and wait. The qualification round should be starting in just a few minutes. If you aren¡¯t in the room when it starts, you¡¯ll have to wait until next month.¡± I simply nodded and passed through the door with Bia on my heels. Door number four had a large archaic IV on the door, or rather, the equivalent for this world¡¯s languages. The door itself was thick and reinforced with metal bands. It seemed like they didn¡¯t want this just flying open all willy nilly, I mused. I pushed into the room beyond and found a space a little larger than a walk in closet with stone benches built into the wall along either side. Another even more impressive door crafted from a single slab of stone marked the entrance into the arena, no more than twenty paces away on the opposite wall. I could hear the dim roar of the crowd beyond. The room was packed with people that looked desperate and frightened. Of the nearly twenty people in the room, more than a dozen of them wore rags or cheap clothing and boasted nothing more than clubs or quarterstaffs for weapons. Many of them had the pinched expressions and glassy eyes of extended hunger. I looked at them and I suddenly understood how the arena made a majority of its money. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the majority of these pitiful wretches either couldn¡¯t or didn¡¯t read their contracts before they signed it. Many of them were undoubtedly hoping to merely survive this bout and collect some extravagant payout, at least relative to their extreme poverty. I doubt any of them realized that they needed to not only survive but conquer in the next ten matches if they hoped to see any sign of that pay check. I remembered a film I saw once and a mournful voice echoed in my memory, ¡®Dead man walking.¡¯ I didn¡¯t know what, if anything, I could do to help those desperate souls, so I took a look at the individuals in the room who looked more prepared. There was a dwarf, or at least, I assumed the being inside that heavy metal armor was a dwarf. He barely topped four feet and his armor was an almost rust color, not from misuse, but from some kind of varnish or staining process. His weapons seemed to be a shield and mace. Another was a duo of a rather severe looking ugly man and a humanoid cat. The man apparently had some sort of monstrous lineage given his giant under bite and the yellowish tinge of his skin. He wore an eye patch with a deeply etched scar that ran across that eyebrow from above the patch and through his cheekbone below. The humanoid cat was white, although not entirely clean and came complete with claws and a cat muzzle, but had the stature of man and probably stood over 5'' tall. A collar and its leash lead back to the man, and the creature crouched at the man¡¯s feet, rather than using the stone bench. The last man looked like a simple archer with a sturdy longbow and supple leather armor. The four of them probably had an inkling of what they had signed up for, at least. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Scarpatch the Underbite noticed me looking at him and snarled in an unfriendly manner. I shrugged and went to find a seat. The aisle down the center of the room was just wide enough that I didn¡¯t have to step over anyone¡¯s feet, that is until I reached one-eye and his cat. He was sprawled across the aisle in a pose that couldn¡¯t possibly have been that comfortable, given the nature of stone benches. I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, ¡°We¡¯ll have plenty of time for this later,¡± I commented obliquely. I looked pointedly at his outstretched legs that blocked the aisle. ¡°Why should I move for you?¡± he growled. ¡°You¡¯ll need your legs unbroken for the upcoming fight,¡± I replied. If this fellow wanted to make a power play in this of all places, I was perfectly willing make our positions clear. He snarled and moved to stand, aggressively. As soon his legs moved out of my way, I slid past. ¡°Much appreciated,¡± I said genially. One-eye, robbed of the moment, seemed about to pursue the matter, but the voice of the announcer suddenly captured our attention speaking from beyond the door. ¡°Ladies, gentlemen, citizens, and serfs, welcome to the monthly qualification rounds! The contestants await in the four holding areas. Today, we will see who has the mettle and skill to become warriors! Welcome, ye who would be warriors!¡± The stone door slid into the floor under the influence of hidden machinery. I stepped forward at the head of the group of hesitant desperate men , aside from the few exceptions. As I stepped onto the arena floor was I was stunned at the sheer immensity of it. The others began to spread out around me, as I stopped to take it all in. The arena floor was surrounded by a thirty foot stone wall, and above that stretched an amber dome of force that I readily acknowledged as the most impressive example of magic I had so far seen in this fantasy world. The dome arched over the whole of the arena floor, but was transparent enough to give a nearly unobstructed view of the spectators in the even more massive stands. The arena floor was hundreds of feet across, but the stands were just as large and encircled the whole the arena floor except for what had to be box seating for the upper class and nobility at one end of the slightly oval stadium. Three other doors just like mine had also released their prisoners and more than 60 participants stood in four groups evenly spaced around the arena. I felt a sudden spike of death energy roll outward from the center of the arena. ¡°We salute ye who are about die. If you die, die well!¡± shouted the announcer. His voice reverberated, but the echo was lost as the audience rose to their feet and cheered so loudly that it even seemed to drown out my thoughts. A tremor ran through the ground as a large section of the arena floor near the center folded down like massive doors and a platform rose quickly into sight packed with humanoid figures. I felt a sudden chill waft towards me and I strained my eyes to look closer. At the same time, large doors at either end of the arena rattled open. The aura of death I was feeling suddenly made sense. It wasn¡¯t the impending death of dozens of these pitiful contestants I was sensing. Our opponents, fully a hundred of them, if not more, were the undead. As though acting on the same signal, the undead broke into rapid sprints, spreading from the center and both large entrances, even as all the exits in the arena once again began to close. A wave of skeletal undead rushed towards our group, and my time to think and analyze ended. The skeletons rushing towards us moved at a dead sprint. Their bones often still had tags of leftover flesh and skin attached to them and they were naked. For a weapon, they had the fleshless claws of their fingers or simple clubs. I charged the leading skeletons and felt Bia following tightly on my left. The sounds of combat began to break out all over the arena as the first skeletons reached their prey. I dodged a clumsy swing from a skeleton and smashed my fist into its skull. A flash of green light erupted off my fist and the skeleton was briefly a skeleton shaped dust mote before it scattered. I jerked to a halt and ducked to my right as two skeletons replaced that one. The skeleton¡¯s club swung past me and I grabbed the arm to throw it, but Bia¡¯s staff licked forward like a snake and shattered its rib cage. It fell apart, so I used the arm to smash the other skeleton, driving the improvised weapon diagonally through its body. I was surrounded now. The skeleton horde had swept past me while we fought. I felt Bia slot in behind me, guarding my back and I proceeded to wreck what was in front of me. Four skeletons came at me from every available side. I grabbed an incoming club and pulled the owner into my fist where it disintegrated. I blocked an attack from the right with the club and took a painful hit on the shoulder from the left. There simply wasn¡¯t space to dodge. I shoved the blocked skeleton away and delivered a backhand at the same time as I swung a haymaker at another skeleton. The mindless undead weren¡¯t smart enough to dodge and two more of them disintegrated. I heard Bia delivering a nearly continuous round of crushing blows at my back. I assumed she was facing just as many opponents. Fresh skeletons replaced ones I had destroyed and for several minutes, it was just the sound of my fists and the roar of the crowd as I demolished skeleton after skeleton and picked up a collection of bruises. No blue boxes popped up to tell me how much damage I was taking, but I knew the damage was adding up. A bisected skeleton from Bia¡¯s fight dug it¡¯s claws painfully into my calf, causing me to glance down long enough to stomp on its skull. One of the endless stream of skeletons took the opportunity to clock me in the face with its club so hard I saw stars and flashing lights.
Your status is critical. You are at 1 hit point.
I shook my head as I quickly destroyed the skeleton and two more with several rapid punches. I shifted to face the oncoming skeletons and relaxed as I realized there were no more attacking us. I looked out across the arena and saw that, as I predicted, close to 90% of the contestants had been smashed and ripped apart by the skeleton horde. A core of about eight fighters still stood, most of them clustered together or driven to the wall. Only Bia and I stood further into the arena and the piles of scattered bones that surrounded us attested to the fact that we probably killed twice what most of the others had, even if my kills were largely lost in the dust of the sandy arena floor. The crowd grew quiet as the announcer began to speak. ¡°Congratulations! Contestants, you are true warriors! Welcome to the Arena! Fight well! Die well!¡± The stone door to room number four slid open once again and I limped dizzily toward it as the crowd roared so loudly, I thought I¡¯d lose my hearing. Once inside, I wasn¡¯t surprised to see one eye and his cat along with short and armored. I was a little sad to see no sign of the archer. I suppose the skeletons were a poor matchup for someone with a bow. I simply dropped onto a bench as the stone door rapidly closed once again, locking out the bulk of the crowd noise. A wave of blue boxes assaulted me and I gave them each a cursory inspection before willing them away.
You are victorious! You have successfully defeated 24 Least Skeletons. You have gained 1200 experience.
Brawling
This is a brutal and unsophisticated combat style that focuses on striking with the fists to deal maximum damage. Improvised weapons may be used to block, entrap, or strike enemies. Mastery Basic +1 to hit and damage Passive
You have gained the title ¡°Gladiator¡± As you win battles, you will be recognized as a successful gladiator. When you performed a particularly impressive kill, your fame as a gladiator will increase faster. Reputation +5
The inner door opened and a plainly dressed man stepped in. ¡°If you would like to follow me, quarters have been arranged. Otherwise, check with the clerk before you leave to find out when your next fight will be,¡± he said. I wearily climbed to my feet and followed him through the underworks beneath the arena to our quarters. I ignored the hallways we walked through and only the fact that there was a bed registered when he introduced me to my room. I collapsed onto it and surrendered myself to sweet dreams. Chapter 6 - Soul Space for Rent The sun shone brightly on an open meadow. Although the ground seemed flat around me, it seemed to arc upward in every direction and sun shone directly down from above. Effectively, there was no place that could surprise me and no place that wasn¡¯t flat. A profusion of flowers in every color waved gently in a warm breeze. I wasn¡¯t very surprised to find myself again in a dream space and that rapid realization brought everything into focus much faster.
Dream Walker
You have visited the dreams of others and understand some of the intuitive rules of operating in another¡¯s internal reality. You are able to adapt more quickly to the dreamscapes of others and have more autonomy while you¡¯re there. Passive
The blue box popped up, letting me know that I was actually getting a skill from visiting my collection of souls. I waved it away and began a amble through the meadow, stopping frequently to smell a flower or raise my face to the glorious sun. Not long after I started walking, I wasn¡¯t surprised to come upon a large blanket, spread in the middle of the flowers, like a lovers bower. Samantha and Eric lay on the blanket cuddling and occasionally giggling as they whispered the sort of things lovers are wont to say. A picnic basket nearby promised lunch if they ever tired of their current activity, but from the looks of things, that would take a while. While I waited for the two of them to notice me, I took a good look at them. Death was finally being good to them, I saw. Each had happy smiles on their faces, although Eric¡¯s face showed the permanent marks of extreme sadness and despair and Samantha seemed to be permanently pale. Eric was a brown haired man with nearly black irises. His features were sharp and serious, although he showed a look of unaccustomed happiness now. He wore casual clothing consisting of a dark vest and a long white tunic. He had the musculature of a white collar worker, slim and intellectual looking, and his hands were uncalloused, smooth, and intertwined with Samantha¡¯s. Samantha seemed a creature of golden light in these surroundings. Her blond hair shone in the sunlight and her green eyes dance with laughter. She were a light peasant dress. She had a willowy figure and she wasn¡¯t particularly big in any dimension, altogether giving off the feeling of a small fragile creature. Yet, her entire being broadcast joy like the warmth of a fire, as though she herself could generate happiness and share it with those around her. It was no wonder Eric was happy with her and had fallen into such despair without her. After several minutes, I realized that these two weren¡¯t ever likely to notice me on their own, so I started clearing my throat, gradually getting louder. ¡°Ahem¡­ AHEM¡­ AHEM!¡± Samantha finally looked up and her entire body seemed to flush red, starting from the bridge of her nose and working its way down to her bare toes. Eric seemed entranced by the sight and I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°Sorry to interrupt, but I can¡¯t pop in just any old time, so I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to interrupt while I have the chance,¡± I said. Eric looked up at me and achieved a business-like demeanor, despite lying on a blanket cuddling with his wife. I have to say, I was impressed. I smiled and tried for a professional bearing as well. ¡°I don¡¯t think I ever formally introduced myself. I am called Ker¡¯Haros. I believe you are Eric and Samantha.¡± Samantha rose to her feet and pulled Eric up with her, although he was obviously reluctant. She gave me a dazzling smile and stepped to the edge of the blanket to curtsied. Eric followed her lead and bowed. I gave them a slight bow myself, which I hoped would suffice. Bowing wasn¡¯t common in my last life, but I¡¯d done them after some kind of performances, I vaguely recalled. ¡°Ker¡¯Haros, thank you so much,¡± Samantha said. ¡°Truly, we owe you everything,¡± Eric agreed. I waved it away uncomfortably, quickly changing the subject. ¡°So this is where you¡¯ve chosen to spend your afterlife?¡± I asked. ¡°It was Samantha¡¯s idea,¡± Eric explained. ¡°This is the meadow I took her to when I first began to court her.¡± I suspected it wasn¡¯t identical to the meadow, since no earthly realm was quite this uniquely good, but I let that slide. Obviously, the concept of wearing rose colored glasses applied much more strongly in the dream realm. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad that you¡¯re finally happy and together. If there is anything I can do for you, I sleep every night,¡± I replied. ¡°Oh no, Sir, if there is anything we can do for you, we would gladly be of service!¡± Samantha countered. I frowned, but I couldn¡¯t turn away offered aid. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you can do for me, but, Samantha, you have already saved my life once. You shouldn¡¯t feel obligated to do any more.¡± They both opened their mouths to speak, but held up my hand to forestall them. ¡°But, if you want to help, I am very new to this world, and I have found that I can access the memories and skills the souls I carry. If you are willing to give me that access, that could help me immensely.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± they both replied, again with a bow and curtsy, respectively. I nodded. ¡°I appreciate it. Aside from that, I don¡¯t know what will come up, but enjoy this safe haven while it lasts. I am not eternal, so neither is this place, so someday you should be free to move on to your eternal reward. These words seemed to concern Eric as he suddenly grew serious. ¡°Then we shall enjoy this time while it lasts,¡± he answered. I nodded and smiled. ¡°Come, let¡¯s sit and we can get to know each other better. For instance, where are you from?¡± We all sat and proceeded to converse about many things, especially their lives leading up to their marriage, though we carefully avoided speaking of their deaths.
Bia Keres followed her master back to his room after what felt like a very long day. She too was injured and fatigued, but nowhere near as desperately as her lord. Once the servant showed them into the room, Lord Ker¡¯Haros collapsed immediately onto the bed. She wished to heal him, but she had little strength to give at the moment. It would be wiser to wait until the morrow when both of them would be refreshed. She sank down into a meditative pose with her staff across her knees, having long since become accustomed to trancing instead of sleeping, after the manner of the elves. She replayed the events of the day through her mind and marveled at the power of her master. It had been her task to place the sword in that haunted house some weeks ago to hide its aura from those that would covet it. She had felt the immense power that the trapped souls there exuded. Placing the sword had been simple, but placing the key had been a terrible trial. First, climbing the staircase required her to pass fairly through the wife as she fell to her death, and the impact had rattled her soul. Yet, the room of the suicide had very nearly been the end of her, despite her many years of training and harsh discipline. Only the teachings she had learned warned her to prevent the door from shutting. It was all she could do to quickly enter, throw the key across the room, and exit again before she was entrapped with the spirit¡¯s sorrow. Yet, her master had shown no such difficulties. Like her, he had been chilled by the spirit¡¯s otherworldly energy, but unlike her, he was in the house for nearly two hours before he returned and when he did, the energy of the building seemed to exit with him like water flowing from a pierced sack. He carried both their souls with him, she presumed, yet seemed none the worse for the wear, nor had he gained the darkness rumored to follow the necromancers of legend. She had been more surprised when he had immediately set off for the arena, even after what must have been a brutal trial. He was serious about gaining greater power before he face his enemies, and she was grateful that he seemed to lack any of the arrogance many of the myths attributed to the downfall of his predecessors. That boded well for the future, but his willingness to place his life on the line fighting as a gladiator concerned her. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. She allowed herself to drop into deep meditation, replaying the battle in her mind and watching the movements of her lord in her mind¡¯s eye in a way she hadn¡¯t had the leisure to do while they were fighting. His style was sharp and brutal, but she was more surprised to note that not once did he draw his sword. Such restraint seemed unnecessary to her, but it was true that when he chose to use that weapon he would likely draw the attention of any that could sense such things. She had questioned his willingness to put his powers on display for a crowd, but she had to admit that the arena offered a clear and rapid way to gain battle experience. She watched him as he seemed to react to his opponents with split second decision making skills, yet his obvious thought process behind his actions slowed him down, she decided. When there was time, she should spar with him and try to impart some technique. Despite his obviously lacking martial skill, he obliterated every skeleton that came within his reach with steady efficiency and blasts of power like none she had ever seen before. That would be the power of the necromancer, and she was amazed to watch it in action in battle, just as she had been amazed when he had absorbed the soul of that old beggar before he could even speak her language. If not for her magic that let her comprehend any speech, she knew she wouldn¡¯t have been able to understand him when he first arrived, yet he resolved that problem quickly and efficiently just as each subsequent step he had taken had rapidly increased his personal power and clearly moved forward. She was beginning to wonder if she was really necessary for his eventual success, despite the disparity between their skills. She winced as she noticed the circumstances of that ringing blow to his head that had seemed so out of character. It seemed that one of her half destroyed foes had distracted him at a crucial moment. She silently reprimanded herself for causing harm to her master, even indirectly, and vowed to be less restrained in future battles. If she had struck the skeletons with excessive force as he had, no wounded enemies would have slipped past her, just as none of his had survived to trouble her. Her mind slowly blanked as she entered a fully resting state. He would likely rise early on the morrow, and she wanted to be prepared to serve him to her utmost. She was ashamed that she had so far done so little for him, so she would strive to serve him better.
Spoiler: STATUS [/tr]
STATUS
NameKer¡¯Haros
AlignmentNeutral
RaceUnknownLevel2
ClassThe Necromancer
TitleChosen of Death
Protection0Defense15
Health24Mana20
Strength18Dexterity15
Constitution--Intellect12
Wisdom12Charisma16
Leadership1Luck1
Reputation10Souls3
The newly Chosen of Death. He has yet to do anything truly significant and, so far, most of the world remains oblivious to his existence. He is recognized as a beginner gladiator with some potential. Many remember his impressive debut in the qualification round.
SKILLS
Death Sense
The Necromancer is the master of the dead. He instinctively knows when someone is about to die and the major cause of death. He can also sense the aura of death on places and objects that have seen much death or are haunted by spirits or the undead. Constant Mana Cost: 0
Dream Walker
You have visited the dreams of others and understand some of the intuitive rules of operating in another¡¯s internal reality. You are able to adapt more quickly to the dreamscapes of others and have more autonomy while you¡¯re there. Passive
Manifest
As the necromancer you can request or command the souls of the dead you own to manifest in the mortal realm as semi-physical ghostly apparitions. While manifested, they can talk, act, and speak according to the abilities they have gained in life and death. Activated Mana Cost: 10 per round (six seconds)
Second Sight
You have learned to see the souls of the departed who linger in the mortal realm. They can interact with you and you with them. Constant Mana Cost: 0
Soul Gatherer
The Necromancer is the master of the souls of the dead. With this ability, he can capture a soul and keep it. This allows him to use the creatures memories and knowledge as though it were his own. Activated Mana Cost: 0
SOULS
Ham
A simple laborer and beggar. He has an intimate knowledge of the seedier side of Ak¡¯Har. He is basically literate and a native speaker of the common language of the area.
Samantha
A young wife. She has a unique charm and knowledge of several handicrafts such as needlework, knitting, and many housekeeping related tasks appropriate for the day. She speaks the language at a high level and is basically literate. She is an innocent soul.
Eric
A young husband. He has knowledge off business practices and is highly literate in math and writing. He knows much of the business sector. He knows specialized business practices and terms. He is the soul of a suicide.
WEAPON SKILLS
Brawling
This is a brutal and unsophisticated combat style that focuses on striking with the fists to deal maximum damage. Improvised weapons may be used to block, entrap, or strike enemies. Mastery Basic +1 to hit and damage Passive
Chapter 7 - Round 1
You gained a level. Your maximum and current hit points will increase by 12. Your maximum and current mana will increase by 10.
I felt it when dawn happened and it woke me from my slumber. A blue window greeted me, so I read it and dismissed it as I stretched in the darkened room. A series of cracks greeted the action as my body complained of the hard bed. There was no light in the room, but once again, that mattered little. I was surprised to see Bia seated and meditating on the floor of the room. Had she been there all night? I stood up next to her, simply because the room was small, but she rapidly stood up as well. With an audible crack, her head smacked into my chin and I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood even as I forcibly fell back on the hard bed. ¡°Oh, my Lord,¡± Bia said. She took a step toward me blindly and tripped over my legs and the side of the bed. She fell on my chest, so that I was looking down at the top of her head. I could feel her chest pressing softly into mine. It only lasted a moment, however, before she scrambled backwards and prostrated herself on floor at my feet. ¡°I am sorry, my Lord,¡± Bia said, speaking into the floor. I couldn¡¯t see the flush of her embarrassment in full color without real light, but the grayscale I had showed that even the back of her neck was a darker color of shame. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Bia,¡± I said. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, my Lord,¡± she corrected automatically and then shrank even further into her prostrated pose, as though she wanted to climb through the floor. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I reiterated. ¡°It was an accident. There¡¯s nothing to apologize for.¡± I took advantage of the darkness to verify that my tongue was indeed bleeding, but it wasn¡¯t serious, just a nick. Bia hadn¡¯t moved from her spot on the floor. I sighed and thought maybe giving her a task would break her out of it. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, please make a light.¡± She picked up her staff from where it lay on the floor and I thought for a moment she was going to make a light with her face in the floor, but she did rise to her feet, pointedly looking at the ground and rising to a half bow. She mumbled a couple words and her staff glowed with clear bluish light. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. I carefully stood again and did a couple stretches, eliciting another round of cracks from straightening joints. I thought of trying to deal with Bia¡¯s excessive reverence for me, but she wouldn¡¯t even meet my gaze. Now probably wasn¡¯t the time, I decided. A cursory glance around the room showed a low stone shelf that served as a bed, a roughly 5X5 foot floor space, and several small shelves cut into the walls which held various knickknacks and an empty lamp. Even the cheap inn we had stayed in last night was less humble than this place. I can only assume that no one ever really stays in these rooms or the people who run the arena are massive cheapskates. ¡°Come, let¡¯s get some breakfast,¡± I said. Once again, I led the way as we ventured out into the city. The main corridor of the underworks was essentially just that one large curving path that ran the perimeter of the arena floor. It was built under the stadium seating, with storage rooms and those four arena anterooms built along the inner ring and a profusion of tiny quarters and offices, as well as some few branching hallways, built along the outside of the oval. I had no trouble finding my way out, despite having been pretty out of it when we were escorted to our room. I''ll chalk that up to sharing my senses with three other people. It was early morning, barely after dawn, as we exited into the main arena entryway. A bored looking night watchman let us out past the turnstiles into the central plaza. It seemed even bigger without the crowds and noise of yesterday. Still, there were some people out and about. I led the way over to a small open air caf¨¦ and then looked helplessly at the menus as I realized I was still broke. It stuck in my throat, but I eventually spoke to the downcast Bia¡¯Keres. ¡°Bia, would you buy us some breakfast. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to owe you again until I make some money.¡± ¡°It is yours, my Lord,¡± Bia¡¯Keres said with a frown. She walked away to order breakfast and I couldn¡¯t help but feel that I¡¯d offended her even further. I sighed and realized that now we were both downcast. What a lovely vicious cycle this was. ¡°Is this chair taken?¡± I glanced up and saw a rather pretty girl looking at me with somewhat predatory eyes. I didn¡¯t immediately say no, so she seated herself across from me and leaned over into my personal space. ¡°I saw you in the arena yesterday,¡± she cooed. ¡°You were amazing. I was already leaning back in my chair as much as I could without seeming to be leaning further from her. Thankfully, around that time I heard the sound of something breaking. I looked over to see that Bia had managed to drop our order, whatever it was. ¡°Excuse me, that was my breakfast,¡± I said, standing quickly. I stepped over to Bia who was burning crimson for the second time today. At this rate, she might permanently change her skin color. I was disconcerted to realize the girl had followed me over from the table and also took a knee next to us to help pick up the mess while Bia stared pointedly at the ground even as she cleaned up as well. ¡°They just can¡¯t hire decent waitresses at these little places,¡± the girl stage whispered in a voice that we could all easily hear. Bia froze in place, before she once again continued picking up shards of crockery and ruined food. I turned and met the girl¡¯s eyes. At first she eagerly leaned in to hear what I had to say, but something she saw caused her to turn slowly pale. ¡°Go. Away.¡± I ordered her. The girl stood up as though being drawn to her feet by a cord attached to her head, then turned and stumbled away. After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder and fled, barely even slowing down when she tripped and bloodied her knee on the uneven street. A blue box popped up to reward my little performance - with miserable timing as usual.
You have learned the skill ¡°Death¡¯s Mandate¡±
Death¡¯s Mandate
Death ultimately exercises its will on all living creatures. You have learned to give orders that weaker creature¡¯s cannot ignore. Only works on creatures of lower level or weak will. Activated Mana Cost: 5
I shook my head, banishing the windows, then turned back to finish cleaning up the mess. The actual waitress stood a few steps away, no longer willing to approach the two of us. ¡°Bia,¡± I said. Her hands stumbled at my voice, but she remained silent. I decided to stick with the tack I¡¯d been taking and give her something to break her out of her misery. ¡°Let¡¯s let the waitress take care of this. Can you get some more food, please?¡± ¡°Yes, my Lord,¡± she said quietly. We stood together and separated as I returned to our table and she went in to order again. Thankfully, my little exchange with my amorous fan hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed and no one else seemed willing to approach me. I wasn¡¯t thrilled with the looks of suspicion and fear, but at the moment it was better than friendliness and lust. Bia came back with breakfast after a few minutes and for a while, we ate in silence. It wasn¡¯t long before I grew tired of it however, as it wasn¡¯t the companionable silence I was used to us sharing. Usually, I just felt comfortable having Bia near me, like a safety net or a warm blanket. Now I felt like I was being followed by a death row inmate just waiting for me to execute their sentence. ¡°Bia-¡° ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, my Lord.¡± ¡°Why do you do that!¡± I snarled, losing patience with the whole thing. She shrank down in her seat and stared fixedly at her plate, but responded clearly. ¡°I am Bia¡¯Keres, my Lord. I am yours.¡± What the hell do I say to that? I sat back in my seat. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, let¡¯s just forget everything that happened this morning. None of it was important and I¡¯ve even learned from it. Instead, why don¡¯t you suggest what we should do today to help me grow in power.¡± Bia thought this over for a moment, then closed her eyes and made an obvious effort to wipe away the events of the morning. ¡°Yes, my Lord, I believe some sparring would help you improve your fighting style.¡± I smiled, ¡°That sounds good. I know they have a training room back at the arena.¡± She nodded and though she didn¡¯t smile, the tense atmosphere of the morning was mostly gone. It seemed she was just as happy to forget it all, as well. We finished breakfast in a leisurely manner and returned to the arena. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. As we passed the guard at the gate, he called out to me, ¡°Oi, you that fella blasted the skelingtons with green magic yesterday?¡± he asked. I nodded and waited for him to get to his point. ¡°Seems like you gots a match firs¡¯ thing this morning,¡± he informed me. ¡°Best ¡®urry or you¡¯ll be forfeit.¡± I glanced at Bia and frowned, ¡°So much for our plans. You¡¯d think they would have told us about this last night.¡± Her expression turned more serious as well. We wended our way through the early morning arena-goers and got the number for the anteroom. It was number II this time, not that it was any different when we arrived there, save for the fact that it was empty. It was just us this time, against whatever or whoever the arena had chosen to throw at us. I noted, gratefully, that I had healed completely overnight. Had I been human, I know I would still be stiff and hurting. The doors slid open, but the roar of the crowd was decidedly kitten-like. I glanced up at the stands and there didn¡¯t seem to be even a tenth of the people we saw at the qualification round, which I hadn¡¯t even made any money from, in point of fact. The guys running this arena sure knew what they were doing. Nearly 100% of the fighters who went through this place must do it for nothing but room and board. Then the miserable fools would graciously bequeath their winnings and all their belongings to the arena when they died someplace between fights one and ten. I reminded myself that my goal was to find the source of power under the arena, not become the arena champion, then proceeded to kick myself as I realized I could have gone looking for it this morning instead of that miserable excuse for a relaxing breakfast. My thoughts were interrupted by the announcer starting his roll, revving up the crowd even though there weren¡¯t many in attendance. ¡°Entering from door number two, newly minted in the arena, Ker¡¯Haros and Bia¡¯Keres! And entering from door number four, Anger and Myrkai!¡± Across the arena, I saw Scarpatch the Underbite, as I¡¯d already dubbed him, and his enslaved cat. I frowned as me and Bia slowly approached the enemy. No one appeared to have any ranged attack capabilities in this fight, or if Bia did she wasn¡¯t sharing just yet. As such, the four of us approached the center of the arena at our leisure until we stood merely 50 feet apart. Anger, as he seemed to call himself, grinned and hefted a short heavy axe. ¡°I¡¯ve been lookin¡¯ forward to this,¡± he snarled. His cat, Myrkai, readied itself, holding itself crouched, but with its hands off the ground with claws extended. I frowned at the odd duo, noting that the cat still wore that ridiculous collar and the 5¡¯ leash was attached to Anger¡¯s belt. ¡°You take Anger,¡± I suggested to Bia and again mentally kicked myself for so casually ordering her about. The two of us circled to the outside of the duo as we approached until I could see Bia past Myrkai and Anger. Then we attacked. I didn¡¯t want to get into a grapple with the cat, since he had more natural weapons than I did, but thankfully, the leash kept the creature on the defensive. With my longer arms, I reached in and began to take jabs at the cat¡¯s head and body without any luck. In fact, all I got for my efforts were some nasty slashes along my arms. The anthropomorphic cat looked a lot like the ones from Skyrim, a video game I spent a lot of time on in my previous life. Their bodies were essentially bipedal, although he seemed to be capable of sprinting on all fours, and the head had a muzzle like a real cat and a very dangerous set of teeth. In fact, more than a few of my attacks I had to pull short as he seemed more than willing to simply bite my hand off if it got close enough. Across the way, I saw Bia effortlessly parrying every strike Anger made, and I once again wondered not just if she was more powerful than me, but exactly how far past me she really was. After a couple of minutes of this pointless exchange, my arms were dripping with my own blood and Anger was huffing with fatigue. Part of me wanted to suggest switching opponents, but just one solid connection from that ax and I knew I¡¯d wish I was only bleeding a little. Finally, I tired of the back and forth. It was time for something drastic. I feinted to the side and then tackled the white cat man full the chest, smashing the top of my head into his attempt at biting me. I felt his claws slash across my back painfully, but I put an elbow into his throat and began slamming short brutal punch into his lower ribs. Meanwhile, the leash jerked my tackle in close to Anger and nearly pulled him down on top of us. I didn¡¯t have time to pay attention to the other fight, and just had to trust Bia to keep him busy or I¡¯d end up with an axe in my spine. Myrkai reacted to my actions first by slashing my back up till it was bleeding freely, and when that didn¡¯t work, he flipped the grapple and wrapped that leash around my neck. All he had to do to snap my neck would be drop back with his weight, so before he did that, I drew my sword and slashed through it. Myrkai froze as the leash separated with a crackle of electricity, like a fallen power cable. I took the opportunity to smash the hilt of my sword brutally into his head a few times, sending him off to dreamland for the time being. I sheathed my blade immediately after. When I pulled myself out of the grapple, I was just in time to see Anger staring at the broken lead like it was a poisonous snake. It completely broke his attention from the fight with Bia, and she seemed almost disgusted as clocked him in the head with a well metered strike and sent him to sleep as well. As I climbed to my feet, I instantly felt woozy and light headed. Just how badly was I hurt by all this scratching, anyway? ¡°Status¡± I mumbled.
TITLE
NameKer¡¯Haros
AlignmentNeutral
RaceUnknownLevel2
ClassThe Necromancer
TitleChosen of Death
Protection0Defense15
Health3/24Mana15/20
Strength18Dexterity15
Constitution--Intellect12
Wisdom12Charisma16
Leadership1Luck1
Reputation10Souls3
The newly Chosen of Death. He has yet to do anything truly significant and, so far, most of the world remains oblivious to his existence. He is recognized as a beginner gladiator with some potential. Many remember his impressive debut in the qualification round.
¡°Oh,¡± I commented. Bia frowned as she stepped around our fallen foes. Meanwhile, the announcer started up his spiel. ¡°There you have it, folks, an exciting, but one sided battle. Ker¡¯Haros and Bia¡¯Keres easily triumph over Anger and Myrkai, although our black skinned friend seems a little scratched up!¡± The crowd weakly laughed at the attempted joke, but I was just interested in making it to the door out of the arena without passing out. That would certainly be embarrassing, after all.
Your status is critical. You are at 1 hit point.
Crap, I guess that bleeding wasn¡¯t just for show. I stumbled through the door into the anteroom just as my vision turned swiftly black around the edges and I started to pass out. There was a pretty blue window right as I was losing consciousness.
You have 0 hp and are bleeding out. Without medical attention you will die.
Maybe you should have mentioned the bleeding a little earlier. That was my last thought to myself as the darkness claimed me. Chapter 8 - A One Sided Spar Green light washed over me from my own glowing form. All around me, the souls of the dead journeyed with apathy or grim determination toward a place on the horizon that looked like a metropolis made of green light and wire models. I went to take a step forward with the throng, but my body wouldn¡¯t move. Pain, nausea, weakness, and dry mouth. I blearily opened my eyes to see Bia leaning over me. For a moment, I thought I saw a look of sympathy and caring flit across her features before her usual impassivity reasserted itself¡­ and a blue window, perfect.
You are victorious! Your team has successfully defeated Anger and Myrkai. You have gained 500 experience.
¡°You¡¯re awake, my Lord, good,¡± Bia said. She continued to pour healing magic into me and I felt better by the moment. Under her slightly luminous hands, my wounds visibly closed. I noticed it wasn¡¯t instantaneous and I could see it taking a toll on Bia as well. Maybe it was more of a health transfer with a beneficial exchange rate? ¡°Thank you, Bia¡¯Keres,¡± I said when she finished. I could still feel the remnants of my wounds, but I climbed to my feet anyway. We were still in the anteroom of the arena it seemed. ¡°Anything exciting happen while I was gone?¡± I asked. ¡°No, my Lord, it¡¯s only been a few minutes.¡± I nodded. ¡°I suppose we should get to that sparring, then,¡± I said. I figured in between bouts, I could try to pinpoint the aura of death that was my true reason for joining the arena. The two of us wandered through the corridors for a nearly an hour trying to track down a training hall. During that time, I found that the source of death energy was below and towards one end of the arena, although it was too diffuse to truly be centered there, I could safely call that ground zero or something similar. I tried communicating with several of the spirits wandering the halls, but they proved shy and cautious, retreating rapidly from me when I impinged upon their reality. I suppose that''s not unreasonable behavior for a ghost that died a violent death after getting locked into a giant deadly con game. Hopefully, my plans don''t lead me in their footsteps. We eventually located a training room on a lower floor, accessed from a staircase in a secondary hallway. The training hall was simply a space a bit smaller than a gymnasium lined with racks of wooden weapons and slightly padded to lessen the damage from falls. The walls were simple stone, like everything else in the Arena and several oil lanterns were hung throughout the room to make evenly spaced and unbiased lighting; however, none of them were lit and it was apparent that this room hadn¡¯t been used recently. The only light came from Bia¡¯s staff, which she conjured as soon as we entered the room. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like there¡¯s any oil Bia,¡± I commented, after pulling down one of the lanterns. ¡°I guess they don¡¯t really encourage the arena contestants to use this place.¡± ¡°I can create light, my lord, or I can use magic to see for myself. I don¡¯t think you have any difficulty seeing in the dark, my Lord?¡± I noticed that she didn¡¯t immediately correct my misuse of her name, but noticing I reminded myself to use her full name in the future. I nodded, ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± I affirmed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just upgrade your own vision and we¡¯ll get started. This evening we¡¯ll by some oil when we¡¯re out getting dinner.¡± ¡°Very well, my Lord. Shall we begin?¡± Bia asked. ¡°Sure.¡± We each took up positions opposite each other and I dropped into what I thought of as my fighting stance. Bia focused her magic to enhance her vision and her conjured light faded, plunging the room into grey scale. ¡°Are you prepared, my Lord?¡± she asked. I nodded. An instant later I was laying on my back looking at the ceiling struggling to breath and I hurt in places I hadn¡¯t even realized I was being hit. I close my eyes and played back the last half a second. As soon as I nodded, Bia poked me in the solar plexus, then hooked the staff under my arm and somehow exerted enough leverage to twirl me around like a rag doll and dump me on my head on the floor of the training hall, at which point my body had undergone a minor seizure while I gasped and trembled. Thankfully, I wasn¡¯t as susceptible to things like being violently ill, because getting slammed right there normally would have had me tossing my lunch, too. I crawled back to my feet while I ran through the possible responses. It was time to eat a humble sandwich and admit I new absolutely nothing about fighting. *Cough* ¡°Bia, per-¡° ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, my Lord,¡± she corrected. I suppose given the disparity in combat ability, I ought to be calling her whatever the hell she wanted. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, perhaps we could start with something a little more basic,¡± I asked. ¡°As you say, my Lord.¡±
Bia¡¯Keres watched as he took up his ¡®stance¡¯. Normally, she would ridicule such a person, but as her Lord was a blooded warrior and possessed of unfathomable power, she would strive for more decorum. She put him on the ground, instead of making commentary. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, perhaps we could start with something a little more basic,¡± he commanded. ¡°As you say, my Lord,¡± Bia¡¯Keres answered. For the next several hours, I strove to teach him the basics of how to stand, how to fall, how to parry, how to counter attack, how to maintain distance, and how to fight, in general. At first, she thought that he was deliberately holding back, and indeed, he never manifested any of his power during the sparring session. Still, she couldn¡¯t help a growing feeling of disgust which translated into making his falls a little harder and punctuating his errors a little more forcefully with the butt of her staff, which lead to having to heal his bruises and bleeding more and more often. It was only after the second hour elapsed that she was certain this wasn¡¯t some ploy to measure her abilities. He really was simply this pathetic at fighting. It took the next four hours for her to realize that he wasn¡¯t likely to improve any time in the near future, either. Her latest deliberately telegraphed swing caught him in the arm and shoulder and flipped his body end for end before he crashed into the ground. He was lying on the ground gasping like a landed fish once again when the first hint of blasphemy tracked across her mind. How can this be Ker¡¯Haros, the Chosen of Death, the one true Necromancer? He was pathetic. He had the fighting ability of a one legged peasant and the reaction speed of a slug. ¡°Get up,¡± she ordered impatiently, then immediately felt disturbed that she had dared to give an order to her master. He immediately struggled to his feet and assumed a much better looking stance than the nonsense he attempted when they first started. However, his ready obedience threw Bia¡¯Keres into even greater emotional conflict. How could a being supposedly possessed of such deific powers so readily obey? He should be proud, imperious, and infallible, not this¡­ this¡­ In her distraction, his full force right hook smashed into her face and literally lifted her off the ground and blew her through the air a half dozen feet before she tumbled to a stop. Only deeply ingrained reflexes caused her to catch the ground with one hand, allowing her to slide to a stop in a crouch. Her vision was suddenly fuzzy and blackness rippled around the edges of her enhanced sight. She shook her head and took up the guard position while she forced her magic and her vision to settle down enough to see her opponent. Ker¡¯Haros hadn¡¯t moved, still partially posed from throwing the punch in the first place. ¡°Let¡¯s break for dinner,¡± he commanded. Was that concern on his face? How could the Lord of Death be concerned for a mere mortal servant? She pushed her confusion down and struggled to once again adopt an appropriate fa?ade of impassiveness. ¡°As you wish, my Lord,¡± she replied. She was grateful just to look away from him. The rush of contradictions every time she looked at him - torn between loathing, disappointment, worship, and her unbreakable oaths - had her wanting to lash out at him and force the issue one way or the other.
I stood up again, pushing past my body¡¯s crying need for oxygen and the pain in almost every inch of my body from being repeatedly pummeled. Bia¡¯s impression of ¡°something a little more basic¡± seemed to mostly consist of telling me what I had done wrong and what she was about to do to me if I didn¡¯t fix it. Following those nuggets of gnomic wisdom, I inevitably had done to me the things she threatened for not getting it right. As of my last count, initiated so that I could try to keep my mind off my growing physical misery, she had put me on the ground 736 times, healed me 21 times, and I¡¯d managed to hit her exactly zero times. The healing seemed to make me functional once again, but after each time, I felt a little less fit. There was something going on there that departed from the fantasy cure all magic I had mostly expected once I saw it. I readied myself, again and watched as Bia swung into a powerful spinning horizontal smash. Sure, I saw it coming, but my mind went blank as I realized how much it was going to hurt. I did manage to crouch and get my arm up to block, otherwise I was pretty sure that hit would have taken out more than a couple of my ribs. I did a full revolution and a half before I smacked into the floor, which was just soft enough that it didn¡¯t cause any permanent damage. With a strangled groan, I rolled over and tried to regain my bearings and the air in my lungs. Initially, I thought that Bia was pulling her blows, but more and more, it felt like I was getting full powered smashes and several times prior to now I had wondered what would have happened to me without my impromptu blocks. Her expression was still controlled every time I looked, but her hits told me she was upset with me. ¡°Get up,¡± she ordered. I immediately responded to the crack of command in her voice, but part of me noted that this was certainly a departure from the norm. She hadn¡¯t once been forward enough to even suggest I do something, much less give me an order. I got back to my ready position and Bia seemed set as well, so I struck out with a strong right, aiming for a point just past her head. I wasn¡¯t expecting to hit anything, since Bia routinely took these kinds of swings and used them to toss me around. Just as my fist slammed into her full force, I truly realized that although her eyes were open and looking at me, she wasn¡¯t paying an ounce of attention. I was horrified as I slammed the gorgeous woman so hard she flew backwards. That seemed to wake her up as one hand shot out and dabbed the ground, pushing her spin around to land her on her feet. The pure venom in her eyes as her gaze met mine made me wonder if I would survive her next attack. Thankfully, she didn¡¯t instantly attack and I used that window of opportunity the best way I knew how. ¡°Let¡¯s break for dinner,¡± I suggested. Her stance relaxed and she straightened up fully. ¡°As you wish, my Lord,¡± she answered. Once again, her gaze turned downward. I sighed. I just wasn¡¯t getting this girl. First she¡¯s an unstoppable warrior maiden, trouncing everything in her path, then she¡¯s submissive. It¡¯s like there was some little monkey with his hand on her emotion switches and he was hitting buttons just for the fun of it. ¡°Is there someplace to clean up, first?¡± I asked. ¡°There is a bath nearby,¡± she answered. I gestured for her to lead the way. After grabbing a change of clothes for us both, she took us out of the arena. I idly dodged the ghosts in the corridor on our way out. There were always a couple roaming around here, so I mostly paid them no mind. Now I again remembered that I was supposed to be searching for a way to find the death energy, and I hadn''t had any time to concentrate on it during the sparring match. Well, there was time tomorrow and the sparring was useful. There were once again throngs of people filling the plaza around the arena. Although, I stank of sweat and exertion, there were plenty of people running around who weren¡¯t any cleaner. There were day laborers and merchants and performers all interspersed with the crowd who wouldn¡¯t bath today or possibly tomorrow or the next day, either. We pushed through the crowd onto a street name Molo, an old word for water. Sure enough, we didn¡¯t go even a block before we came a large public bath. The building was dedicated to some goddess of waters and there was a priestess receiving entry fees and handing out towels. The building itself was nearly Romanesque with arches and columns in white stone throughout the building. Bia led the way and paid for both of us. The problem came when we arrived at the bath itself. It seemed that it was a mixed bath, and bath wasn¡¯t a euphemism. There were old men, old women, whole families with their children, and couples all naked and bathing in a pool larger than an Olympic swimming pool. The water was nearly green with minerals and seemed to flow from one end of the bath to the other, so things like soap, hair, lost clothing, and toddlers all tended to accumulate at the bottom end of the pool. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Bia lead the way directly to the edge of pool and shed her robes. Time seemed to slow down for me as she took off her belt and unclasped a large broach at her shoulder. Just like that, her clothing slid off her body and puddled at her feet and for a few glorious seconds I was looking at the backside of a truly gorgeous and athletic woman. Bia promptly dropped into the water, concealing the divine sight beneath the verdigris waters. ¡°Oh, I forgot to buy soap,¡± she observed and moved to get back out. ¡°Ah, no problem. I¡¯ll get it,¡± I said. She seemed confused by my lack of composure, but simply dug out a coin from her belt pouch, showing a tantalizing expanse of bosom in the process. Part of me wanted to see her traipsing through the crowd with nothing but a towel on, but it felt like such a thing would cheapen the religious experience I had just had. ¡°Here, this should be enough for two bars and then some, my Lord,¡± she informed me. I nodded and tracked down the soap seller, a little girl in priestess robes once again. Was this place a convent on the side, I wondered? She gave me my soap efficiently, only I ended up with three bars of soap and no change. Ah well, I¡¯m sure we¡¯d use it up eventually, right? I returned to the bath and steeled myself. I rapidly divested myself of my clothing, again leaving a pile of my belongings within easy reach as Bia¡¯Keres had done, then slipped into the water and hid in its green depths. The soreness in my body immediately began to leach away in the warm water of the bath and I felt like even my bones were relaxing into jelly as I floated. The water was about 5¡¯ deep here. It became shallower and hotter toward the top of the pool and deeper and cooler at the bottom of the pool, although there were frequent shelves and sitting pools around the edges of the bath. The water was so high in mineral content that it was almost hard to sink. After a few minutes of blissful soaking, I decided I¡¯d better get a move on, as I saw Bia already soaping everything and washing. I grabbed my own bar of soap and proceeded to wash as well, careful to keep a generous distance beyond arms length from Bia¡¯s position and my entire body carefully turned away from her. I focused on washing and I was done in record time, but a glance at Bia showed her half asleep in the water meditating or something. I almost didn¡¯t dare look in the first place and I looked away again immediately since she didn¡¯t always stay completely submerged and certain parts of her were more buoyant than others. Instead, I tried to distract myself from the gorgeous naked woman who had already proven herself capable of breaking all my bones. What lovely architecture they have here? I suppose this must be a natural spring? Is that a naked hairy fat man or a naked hairy fat woman? Nope, that¡¯s it. Time to go. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Bia¡¯Keres,¡± I said. I suited action to words and climbed out. I dressed faster than I ever had in my life and secretly vowed to visit this place at 3 am or just get used to cleaning myself with a basin of water and a washcloth. I steadfastly watched the crowd of people entering and leaving. It was probably 10 minutes before I realized that Bia was back to her old ways. I turned around and found her dressed and sitting in a meditative pose, for all the world looking like she was prepared to wait until hell froze over before she so much as had an impatient thought. ¡°Come,¡± I said peremptorily. She rose smoothly to her feet and I led the way out of the bath house and/or temple. The cool air of the street was a relief, as well as escaping from the hordes of nude or soon to be nude bathers. I hadn¡¯t gone 20 yards down the street before I was intercepted, however. A brilliantly white catman wearing a black leather harness and loincloth pushed through the crowd abruptly and took a knee before me. ¡°I, Myrkai of Ka¡¯Azar, swear fealty to Ker¡¯Haros of Ak¡¯Har. Life for life, blood for blood, until my debt of honor is paid, and may the powers strike me down if I am foresworn,¡± the catman said, clearly and loudly. I peripherally noticed that a lot of people were paying attention to this. I also got a flood of relevant information from Ham, Eric, and Samantha. First off, Ak¡¯Har was this city, which I hadn¡¯t bothered to even question prior to now, what with crazy warrior women and unscheduled arena fights. As for this ¨C this was a formal declaration of fealty done in a formal place which was legally binding. If I accepted, Myrkai would become my liegeman and I would be responsible for his upkeep, much like a noble and his knight or a movie star and his bodyguard. If I refused, it would be the gravest insult to Myrkai¡¯s honor and he would become a laughingstock. Typically, these kinds of formal declarations were done in a controlled environment with prepared witnesses, not by surprise in the middle of a busy street. Although it took several seconds to filter the information, I realized one very glaring flaw to this whole scenario. I was currently depending on Bia¡¯Keres for my daily upkeep. On the other hand, she kept telling me that what¡¯s hers is mine and what¡¯s mine is mine. Time to bite the bullet and test the truth of that before we drew more of a crowd. ¡°I accept, Myrkai of Kazar. Rise and follow me.¡± After my simple order, he fell in behind me next to Bia¡¯Keres. It wasn¡¯t lost on me that he was to slightly my left and she was slightly to my right. The order indicated tacit acceptance that she was a more senior servant and deserving of being my right hand. Great, now I was holding court. I felt a collective murmur of amusement from my peanut gallery of souls.
Myrkai of Kazar has become your vassel! You have gained +1 Leadership!
Oh joy, another cute little blue window. Funny, I wonder why I didn¡¯t get one of those for Bia? I pushed the thought and the window away and started walking again. I turned onto a side street as soon as I had the opportunity. The press of people was lighter here, thankfully. I stopped at the first diner I spotted and claimed a table. My two vassals, I thought sarcastically, just stood there having some sort of contest of decorum. ¡°Sit down, both of you,¡± I growled. They pulled out chairs and I could only sigh as they claimed seats with Bia to my right and Myrkai to my left. Bia even seated herself slightly ahead of Myrkai. This was going to be a major source of culture shock for me, I could tell already. If this kind of one-upmanship and etiquette was so ingrained as to be instinctual it would be a headache and if it wasn¡¯t and they were deliberately staking their claims to my imaginary nobility, it could be even worse. ¡°Okay, Myrkai, explain,¡± I ordered. I didn¡¯t particularly like being called out in the middle of the street like that. I was actually trying to stay under the radar, despite the whole gladiator thing. Gathering followers in the middle of the street was counter to staying inconspicuous. ¡°My Lord,¡± Myrkai began, ¡°I need not tell you that I am of the Bast who live far to the East. I was born into the Shadowed, a caste for those that are lithe and quick warriors and scouts. I trained throughout my youth in anticipation of joining one of the many warriors societies of our people. However, this,¡± he gestured, displaying his brilliant white fur and pinkish eyes, ¡°brought me scorn and refusal on every hand. There is a law among the Bast that those with no place cannot remain. When I reached my 18th year without succeeding in joining a warrior society of the Shadowed, I was exiled.¡± I had a feeling there was a lot of misery and sadness bound up in that final sentence. Myrkai did not lose his composure, but he paused, sorting his thoughts. ¡°Soon after I left the lands of the Bast, I fell into slavery. Traveling alone, I was captured and sold. I changed hands several times, but I proved to make a poor slave.¡± Myrkai smiled as he said this. It was obviously a point of pride for him, I thought. ¡°I changed hands several times¡± he continued, ¡°until Anger bought me at a discount. Unable to trust me past the end of a leash, even with the magical control device, he vowed to make some money off of me if it killed him. He dragged me here to fight in the arena, as you saw. With the destruction of the control device, my status became that of a run away slave, but Q E D, an arena slave is one fit for combat. That we won the qualifying rounds indicates that I might be dangerous. Combat slaves have certain special laws attached, which would be bad for Anger. I don¡¯t expect he¡¯ll involve the law. It would cost him more than I¡¯m worth. On the other hand, Anger, or nearly anyone else, could simply recapture me and no one would say a word in opposition.¡± ¡°So you sought me out,¡± I said, tracing the path of his logic. Eric¡¯s knowledge of the legal system nicely filled in the blanks here. Anger would be looking at fines far in excess of Myrkai¡¯s value if he notified the authorities. By the same token, now that Myrkai had sworn fealty to me, public law essentially resorted to trial by combat. I suspected that either I or Bia could quite easily trounce Anger a second time, if necessary. For all intents and purposes, it was a scenario of finders keepers, although I wasn¡¯t required to make Myrkai my slave. ¡°Yes, if Anger-¡° ¡°I¡¯m familiar with the relevant laws, but that doesn¡¯t answer all my questions,¡± I interrupted. Myrkai grew solemn under my steady gaze. ¡°My Lord, you have bested me in combat. You freed me from slavery. You have proven yourself to be a man of surprising knowledge. What¡¯s more, you already have a vassal. For my part, you are worthy of my allegiance.¡± ¡°There are other oaths you could have sworn less binding and equally suited to your cause,¡± I pressed. ¡°I did not swear fealty for my cause,¡± he hissed, literally. ¡°Life for life, blood for blood, until my debt of honor is paid, until death or beyond, for you have saved me from a worse fate,¡± he swore once again. I didn¡¯t quite agree with him, but Myrkai was adamant. ¡°Very well,¡± I yielded, ¡°Myrkai, this is Bia¡¯Keres. She looks after me.¡± Myrkai looked askance at me as I introduced Bia. Such informality was atypical for the culture here. I mentally shrugged. They could like it or lump it, but I wasn¡¯t likely to ever grow laces straight enough to suit them. The two of them remained awkwardly silent throughout dinner, then it was time to return to the arena and take care of some other matters. As we walked back to the entrance of the arena, I couldn¡¯t spot the clerk and the shutters were closed on the window where I had originally signed up as an arena combatant. I looked around and saw the guard from the other day and walked over to talk to him. ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± I said, respectfully. ¡°Clyde,¡± he answered. ¡°Uh, Clyde, then,¡± I stuttered, ¡°do you know where the clerk has gone? I wanted to discuss some details of my contract.¡± ¡°Oi, tha¡¯s Ric an¡¯ ¡®e gots reglar hours. ¡®e goes ¡®ome ever¡¯ day afore dinner,¡± Clyde replied. I resorted to Ham to helpfully sort out Clyde''s thick accent. Apparently, Ric was already gone to supper. ¡°Naturally,¡± I muttered. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to catch up with him in the morning.¡± ¡°Oi, so ya will,¡± Clyde answered. ¡°¡¯e¡¯ll be around fer yer fight.¡± I blinked. ¡°We have another fight tomorrow?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t tell ya?¡± Clyde asked rhetorically. ¡°I saw Lem ¡®ead over wit¡¯ the notice hours ago.¡± I grimaced. ¡°We only just got back from town. It¡¯s probably waiting for us.¡± Clyde grinned broadly, displaying snaggleteeth. ¡°Oi, I don¡¯t work den, so I¡¯ll be watchin¡¯.¡± I forced a smile. ¡°Won¡¯t that be nice. Well, thank you for everything. We¡¯ve got an early day in the morning, so we¡¯ll be turning in.¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Clyde replied, as we turned away. Myrkai had his own room, at least until someone showed up to kick him out of it. Hopefully, we¡¯d be able to remedy that tomorrow, since I intended to add him to the combat team. We returned to our quarters, and I laid down on the bed while Bia¡¯Keres sank into her typical meditative pose. Tomorrow promised to be another long day. Chapter 9 - Round 2 The following morning dawned and I felt it as sharply as the heat from a fire. It woke me, and I lay on the thin bed in the arena quarters thinking. While I slept, I again visited with Ham, Eric, and Samantha, but I spent much of the time simply snoozing on the bank of Ham¡¯s river. There was no need for me to disturb their afterlives right now. I was beginning to get a hang of how their knowledge was accessed. Essentially, all I had to do was form a question, and if the knowledge was something one of those willing souls knew, I would find that I knew the answer even before I finished formulating the question. It had happened several times yesterday without me even noticing, like understanding the history of Molo street and grasping the importance of Myrkai¡¯s oath. I couldn¡¯t tell exactly which of the souls in my care provided information, although I could guess, but if I really cared, I could always ask them at night. Bia and I performed our morning ablutions without incident and soon we stood before the clerk¡¯s window at the arena entrance with Myrkai. The entrance to the arena was busy as usual and the clerk had a full line, even if he didn¡¯t know it, full of the ghosts of arena contestants of years past. Even my own companions watched with bemused expressions as I worked my way through the ghostly crowd. They seemed to feel nothing as they walked through the bodies of the incorporeal dead. ¡° Excuse me, Ric. I need to add a person to our team,¡± I said as I reached the clerk¡¯s window. ¡°I¡¯m afraid no alterations of your contract are allowed,¡± Ric answered with the confidence of frequent repetition. ¡°Ah, but no alteration of the contract is necessary,¡± I said, smilingly. ¡°See, according to our group contract, there should be four people on our team and we just haven¡¯t registered the other two.¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± Ric replied glibly. ¡°Let me see that¡­¡± He reached over the wall of cubbyholes and started looking for my contract, but I didn¡¯t give him time to double check it. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m adding Myrkai as the third member of our team,¡± I continued. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if we find a fourth member. In the mean time, we have to get to our next match,¡± I said. The three of us turned away while he was still looking. ¡°Hey, come back here! That isn¡¯t how this works!¡± Ric shouted, but we were already far enough way to pretend that we hadn¡¯t heard him as we dived into the arena underworks. The halls of the arena muffled the crowd noise, as usual, and fewer of the ghosts wandered the halls for some reason. I spotted one of the attendants on his way to an arena anteroom and found out from him that we would be in anteroom IV facing off against another party. That sounded interesting, but I was a little nervous about actually killing someone. Skeletons and monsters I was fine with, and I hadn''t had time to anticipate the fight with Anger and Myrkai. We had even managed to take them down without killing them. I wasn¡¯t keen to break that trend if I could help it. The three of us entered anteroom IV, and I found myself sitting across from Bia¡¯Keres and Myrkai in silence, waiting for the attendant to send us out to the fight. Bia seemed impassive as usual, but I found that she wouldn¡¯t meet my eyes. Myrkai, by contrast, seemed to be lost in thought. ¡°Penny for your thoughts?¡± I asked Myrkai. They both looked at me strangely and I realized the old saying didn¡¯t translate well. Then Myrkai simply held out his hand. ¡°Hm, I don¡¯t actually have a penny,¡± I admitted, only to see the corners of Myrkai¡¯s mouth turn up. Was he just messing with me? ¡°No need, my Lord. I am meditating on the upcoming battle, renewing the forms of Kaisukren,¡± Myrkai told me. ¡°What¡¯s Kaisukren?¡± I asked. ¡°Kaisukren is a martial art of the Bast people which focuses on combined false and true claw attacks,¡± Myrkai answered. ¡°The name itself is translated as ¡®Cat catches mouse¡¯. It is a martial form that emphasizes speed and efficiency suitable for rapidly finishing encounters.¡± ¡°What do you mean by true and false claws¡± I asked, ¡°and why do it in your head?¡± ¡°These are my true claws,¡± Myrkai said as he unsheathed his own cat claws. They were over two inches long, serrated, and sharply hooked. ¡°False claws are any kind of weapon a Bast holds. This room is too small for many of the forms I will be using in the arena,¡± Myrkai replied, ¡°but I can show you some, if you like.¡± ¡°Yes, I would like to see it.¡± With that, Myrkai stood and occupied the center aisle of the anteroom where he proceeded to perform a series of katas. His movements were sharp and precise and I could easily imagine his claws going through enemies. Myrkai still didn¡¯t have a weapon, so he was emphasizing the use of his claws, rather than weapons. There were many cat like movements which seemed to emphasize his body¡¯s natural fighting tendencies, such as a move where his claws would bat across rapidly in that way only cats have when striking their prey. Unfortunately, the display was interrupted after only a few minutes. ¡°Your match is about to begin,¡± the attendant informed us. ¡°Please enter the arena.¡± As he spoke the door opened and the three of us walked out into the arena. The stands were not as empty as the last time I fought and the buzz of crowd noise swamped the small sounds of our footsteps as we walked out across the sandy floor toward the center of the arena. Door II, opposite our own, had also opened up and we could see a full team of four approaching across the sand. ¡°Please give a hearty welcome to Ker¡¯Haros, Bia¡¯Keres, and Myrkai! Today they¡¯ll be facing off against their leading competitors, Bagwil, Trip, Hamish, and Lolt! Both teams have won their initial matches and for the first time, we get to see whether these teams are champions in the making or food for worms! We salute ye who are about to die! If you die, die well!¡± We were still beyond the distance of an effective charge when the opposing team started firing bolts and arrows at us. It seemed the entire opposing team was equipped with a ranged weapon as well as their primary melee weapon. Three of them had crossbows, but one seemed to be primarily a bowman. We did the only thing we could. We charged. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Bia placed herself in front of me, effortlessly outdistancing my fastest sprint. Her staff struck out to block an incoming arrow. Meanwhile, Myrkai dropped to all fours and kicked off with speed I could barely credit even as I watched. He crossed the distance separating us almost as fast as the speeding missiles. His target was obviously the bowman, but one of the other warriors managed to tackle him in a desperate interception. The enemy crossbowman fired off another pair of bolts and Bia only blocked one, taking the other bolt in the thigh. She stumbled, but managed to keep limping forward, although she was going a lot slower. I saw the bowman fired a shot from nearly point blank range, but Myrkai cleanly intercepted the arrow with the body of his enemy as the two continued to grapple. Her cry of pain centered me in a way that I hadn¡¯t been in any other battles as the intellectual understanding that people were going to try and kill us suddenly became extremely real, visceral, and immediate. I sprinted past Bia, heading for the nearest enemy and I saw them dropping their crossbows and switching to their melee weapons. My focus narrowed down to the one enemy I would face. My opponent was the dwarf from the first day, I saw - still encased in heavy armor. He smoothly drew an axe and unslung his shield as he let his crossbow drop to the ground. I prepared a flying punch, but was forced to pull up short as he took a well timed swipe with his axe. The blade cut through my shirt and left a shallow bleeding gash across my chest. Another couple inches and I¡¯d have been watching my heart beat through my open ribs. ¡°Fool,¡± the dwarf commented as he shield bashed me. The move threw me on the ground and the dwarf stepped forward and chopped downward. My incredibly brief life flashed before my eyes, only to see the axe knocked into the dirt by Bia¡¯s staff. The other enemy flew past in my peripheral vision, taking Bia out of the equation once again, but the brief respite gave me the opening I needed. I grabbed onto the haft of the ax and punch the dwarf in the helmet, which mainly just hurt my hand. The dwarf¡¯s armor dented slightly under a flash of green power, but he simply stepped forward and bashed me in the face with his shield, this time breaking my nose.
You are dazed and unable to act.
I shook the window away. I couldn¡¯t be dazed right now, or I was going to die.
Your dazed status has been cancelled as the Chosen of Death.
The ringing in my ears faded to background noise and my vision sharpened. Time seemed to elongate as I watched the dwarf preparing to split my head like a melon. I noted that his shield was out of position because of his heavy swing. I needed to get through his armor and stop him now, or his ax would go through my skull. My hand flared brilliantly green as I reached for his heart. It passed directly through his armor and I felt something gauzy and ephemeral. I grabbed it and ripped, pulling my fist and a web of grayish light straight out of his body. For a moment, it resisted before I felt it tear and the whole tattered mess ripped out of his body and contracted into my fist. The dwarf¡¯s body crumpled limply onto the ground next to me.
Soul Rend
The Necromancer can freely interact with souls in a physical manner. He can use it to capture souls he can overpower, both living and dead. Activated Mana Cost: Equal to target¡¯s remaining soul points
Soul Gained: Bagwil
Time snapped back into normal motion and I felt my head ringing while lights danced across my vision. For a split second, I lay stunned, still trying to comprehend the window before I willed it away and sat up. The dwarf was dead, obviously. Myrkai had dealt with his first opponent and was now chasing the bowman across the arena. The bowman was in headlong flight and doing well to stay ahead of Myrkai by sharply turning every time Myrkai attempted a rush. Bia¡¯keres didn¡¯t seem to be doing so well. Her opponent was a human using a spear and he seemed to be baiting her. She struck out wildly as I watched and the spearman carefully guided the blow past before countering. The strike missed, but the blood flowing from Bia¡¯keres body spoke of previous successes. ¡°Bia¡¯keres,¡± I had to shout, just to be heard over the crowd. ¡°Break his spear.¡± At the sound of my voice, her movements instantly changed. She feinted a powerful strike, drawing the spearman into a pointless attack, then struck downward powerfully with her staff, snapping the spear in two. Her next strike smashed through her opponent¡¯s chest with a crunching sound that was audible even above the crowd noise. Blood sprayed from the spearman¡¯s mouth and he died on the spot. ¡°And there you have it! Ker¡¯Haros, Bia¡¯Keres, and Myrkai win the match without losing a single team member, while only Lolt remains from the opposing team. We congratulate you!¡± The crowd gave a deafening roar. Myrkai stalked back across the arena while the bowman knelt sobbing in the sand. The other three enemies were dead, two of them obviously so and the dwarf almost without a mark on him. The three of us returned to the anteroom and the noise of the crowd was mercifully silenced as the heavy door closed. Chapter 10 - Visiting Hell
You are victorious! Your team has successfully defeated Bagwil, Trip, Hamish, and Lolt. You have gained 1350 experience.
The little blue window popped up as I stepped into the arena anteroom. A wave of dizziness struck as I crossed the threshold. I abruptly sat on one of the benches while I waited for the persistent ringing in my skull to subside. I willed the window away, but more replaced it just as quickly.
Your popularity in the arena has grown. +5 Reputation
Your actions have granted you the Subtle trait. With effort, you can use your magical abilities without telltale lights, noises, or other obvious signs. Using this trait increases the difficulty of any magic used by 10%.
Oddly enough, the windows were legible, even while the rest of the world was doing its best impression of the jitterbug, so I took the time to read them before I physically pushed each one away, freeing myself from further mental effort. Am I feeling this way because I got bashed in the face one too many times or is there some other reason? I thought to myself. ¡°Status,¡± I said. [/tr]
STATUS
NameKer¡¯Haros
AlignmentNeutral
RaceUnknownLevel3
Experience Gained2050Experience Needed2000
ClassThe Necromancer
TitlesChosen of Death, Gladiator
Health8/24Mana0/20
Soul10
Strength18Dexterity15
Constitution--Intellect12
Wisdom12Charisma16
Leadership2Luck1
Reputation15Souls4
The newly Chosen of Death. He has yet to do anything truly significant and, so far, most of the world remains oblivious to his existence. He is recognized as a beginner gladiator with some potential. Many remember his impressive debut in the qualification round and his latest match has people wondering what exotic magic he uses.
That might be it, I thought to myself as I looked at my mana points. It looked like there were some detrimental effects to being completely out of mana.
You are suffering from Mana Drain. Vision and reaction time are negatively impacted. All skill checks take a -5 penalty.
Why is that all these windows only pop up after I figure out more or less what¡¯s going on? I wondered. ¡°Bia¡¯keres, how do you feel when you exhaust your magical powers?¡± I asked. ¡°I typically fall unconscious once my magical powers are completely exhausted,¡± she replied. ¡°I see. I think I¡¯m suffering from that.¡± ¡°In that case, you must rest. Sleep and meditation are the best cure,¡± Bia¡¯keres answered. I nodded and used the wall to help myself to my feet. ¡°I¡¯ll head back to the room then,¡± I said. Myrkai stepped forward to take my arm. After a moment, Bia took my other and we proceeded back through the halls, although I don¡¯t remember much of the trip. As soon as we reached the room, I let myself pass out on the bed.
Bia¡¯keres hesitated to touch her master and it wasn¡¯t until Myrkai shamed her by lending him aid that she too took his arm. Touching him seemed to scatter her thoughts like a warm wind blows the fuzzy head off a dandelion. As she carried him down the hallway, she realized for the first time that her master was warm, alive, like any other mortal. He said he was suffering from magic exhaustion. She knew he didn¡¯t practice the same kinds of magic she did, but most disciplines that brought forth magic from within led to complete unconsciousness, not this stupor. Other types of casters, like sorcerers, simply never ran out of power. She had believed he would be like them, but he was nothing like she had expected. Her arm, wrapped around his back, couldn''t felt the throb of his heart, yet he was warm and obviously showed the normal signs of exertion. His body gradually cooled as they walked, until it reached a point where it was cool to the touch, but not cold like the stone hallways. Suddenly, they were at the room, and Myrkai was setting him down on the hard bed. She let him go only because the weight was too much to bear from this awkward angle. As she separated from him, it felt like some strange haze over her thinking lifted away and she took two steps to distance herself from him. ¡°I will go check the schedule for our next fight,¡± Myrkai said, glancing from me to the master and back. ¡°Will you be alright?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Bia answered. ¡°I will watch over him while he recovers his strength.¡± Myrkai simply nodded with that inscrutable cat face and retreated from the room. Darkness fell over them as he left and she could hear her master breathing. She reviewed the battle in her mind. Her master had taken the most troublesome foe for himself and she had thought that was good. She engaged the spear wielder, planning to stay close and safeguard her master. Then the armored dwarf had knocked Ker¡¯haros to the ground. Her parry had been desperate, but despair was all she felt as the spearman drove her away from the battle. She began to swing wildly, trying to finish the battle soon enough to rescue her master again, but the spearman was baiting her, letter her wear herself out. Her recollections of that time were hazy and scattered and she realized she had truly failed to think. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Of course, all that changed a moment later when her master¡¯s clear and decisive voice cut through the panic. She followed his command instantly and it brought the immediate conclusion to her battle. Once again, her master¡¯s power had increased, but this time even she had been too occupied to see it. Was that deliberate? She was forced to wonder if he had ever been in any true danger. Was he truly so weak he was threatened by a common thug in the arena or was he so powerful he could flawlessly tempt death to maintain that appearance? Yet, clearly he suffered from exhaustion now ¨C a clear sign of weakness ¨C and his warmth¡­ Bia¡¯keres rose to her feet as her agitation defeated her meditative trance. The small room was just long enough to pace, but as she returned, her eyes fell on his glowing forearm in the darkness. She focused herself and stopped the runaway pattern of thoughts. She sank back into a cross legged position and began to rebuild her fragile meditation. Regardless of anything else, he was her master. His power or lack of power were not her concern, she told herself. Her only task was to serve him better, and clearly she had room for improvement. Losing her head in battle was unacceptable. She settled down to do battle with the emotions that threatened to destroy her peace and calm entirely.
I entered the dream state as I slept, but it wasn¡¯t the boundless and safe meadow or the lazy riverside. The deafening ring of metal on metal and searing heat assaulted me. My sweat dried on my skin before it could register as wet. The dim red glow of fire reflected dimly off soot blackened steel, like the hold of a ship or the belly of an iron castle. The banging paused and I heard the clank of chains before it began again. Cautiously, I navigated a floor crowded with slagged pieces of metal and castoff scrap around a central pile of metal scrap. As I rounded the mound of jagged scrap, I looked into a scene lit by a roaring furnace. Even more intense heat threatened to dry my eyeballs in my sockets and suck the moisture right out of my lungs. In the fiery glow of the forge, a gnarled and scorched dwarf stood by the side of an oversized anvil that sat directly on the floor and rose past his waist. Thick black chains ran from each limb and connected to the anvil and his hands were manacled to the haft of a cumbersome square hammer with a heavy metal head nearly a foot square. As I watched, a lump of metal spat out of the forge onto the anvil and the dwarf began to furiously hammer it, beating it back even as it seemed to crawl toward him with malevolent life. Soon, it was reduced to a jagged lump of metal and the dwarf swept it off the anvil. It flew in my direction and as it did, the dwarf¡¯s eyes found me. ¡°Ha! Come to gloat have ye!¡± he roared. He stomped and brandished his hammer, but the chains confined his movement so much that only the rattle of his bonds threatened me with their noise. ¡°Why are you here?¡± I asked. ¡°The other spirits chose beautiful relaxing places to exist.¡± ¡°Ye put me here, ye monster,¡± snarled Bagwil. He slammed his hammer onto the anvil for emphasis. ¡°Chained me here away from my eternal reward!¡± ¡°This is just¡­ temporary,¡± I argued weakly. ¡°Let me go!¡± Bagwil yelled. ¡°Let me go NOW!¡± A lump of semi-molten metal leapt from forge and struck him in the chest and he howled as he beat it off onto the anvil and smashed the self-willed lump into dead scrap. I retreated in the face of his agony and tripped backwards over the jagged hunks of metal littering the floor. As I fell, I longed for the boundless meadow. Like the passage of a hand before my eyes, I found myself lying on my back staring into the blue blue sky. Nearby I heard amorous giggling. ¡°Eric, stop. We have a guest,¡± Samantha giggled. ¡°He doesn¡¯t count,¡± Eric answered, eliciting further giggling. I kept my eyes on the sky, letting the peaceful ambience wash away the rage and heat of the forge that Bagwil had made. Was that the consequence of taking an unwilling soul? He suffered so much for his hatred and rage. I had to figure out how to release him. For all my pretenses, I couldn¡¯t really be such an abhorrent creature that bound the unwilling souls of the dead. Worse yet, what would it take to force an enemy so consumed with hate to grant me its skills and knowledge? I shuddered to think of it, yet I suspected that these idyllic realms created by the souls could be altered by the owner of the real estate. I could probably make them into anything I wanted since this all existed somewhere within my control. I began to ponder the task of releasing a soul with an urgency my willing souls hadn¡¯t inspired. If I simply released the soul into the material world, I feared it would simply become a ghost, trapped in its last actions. I would need to perform those experiments in the waking world, in any case. Manipulating my powers was mostly beyond me in this pure realm of the mind. There was something I could do here, though. I willed myself back to the forge, and in the blink of the eye I found myself watching Bagwil fight the forge. With steady concentration, I willed the forge to burn less hotly. I swept the castoff metal and slag out of the floor and refined the hammer in Bagwil¡¯s hands down to the shape of a true crafting hammer. The anvil, too, reduced in size until it stood at a comfortable height. The molten metal that jumped from the forge now landed directly atop the anvil instead of attacking the dwarf. Try as I might, however, the chains that galled Bagwil¡¯s hands and feet could not be removed. I reasoned that they must be the dream representation of his unwilling capture, symbolic of real magical forces beyond the dream state. ¡°Bagwil,¡± I said, ¡°If you are a craftsman, craft me a weapon on this anvil. Once you have created a worthy weapon, you will be freed.¡± I wasn¡¯t certain where the idea came from, but the idea seemed right. Afterall, Bagwil had created his prison, so to speak, so he would need to be willing to leave it when the time came. Bagwil glared at me from under a soot darkened brow. ¡°Very well. I will make you a weapon as my wergild and when I have finished I shall go on to the lands of my people.¡± I nodded solemnly to acknowledge our pact. With a blink, I slipped into dreamless slumber, but I would soon awaken. Chapter 11 - Till Death
You gained a level. Your maximum and current hit points will increase by 12. Your maximum and current mana will increase by 10.
I woke to the darkened room and a little blue window, but I was becoming accustomed to it now. Bia sat cross legged on the floor as she always did, apparently deep in meditation. I waved away the window and propped myself up on my elbow. I took a few moments to just relax and sort thoughts. She was still as beautiful as the first time I saw her, but I guess that was only two days ago? Or was it three. I regretted that her eyes weren¡¯t open, though. Ah well, she¡¯d probably crush my rib cage if I mentioned any silly notions like romantic interest. It was a mystery to me why she continued to hang around in the first place. Thoughts still unsorted, I decided I¡¯d better get on with the day. ¡°Bia,¡± I called. She stirred and rose to her feet with her staff. In a moment, a soft light suffused the tip of her staff and lit the room. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, my Lord,¡± she replied. ¡°My apologies,¡± I answered. ¡°Do you know what time it is?¡± ¡°It should be around the time of the evening meal,¡± Bia answered. I nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go get something to eat, then,¡± I suggested. ¡°As you command, my Lord,¡± Bia responded. I suppressed a sigh at her formality. Every once in a while, it seemed like she would almost relax into treating me like a real person, only to return to this stiff formality the moment I turned my back. ¡°Have you seen Myrkai?¡± ¡°No, my Lord. He left hours ago and has yet to return.¡± We stepped out into the corridor and headed for the exit, only to see the white cat himself. ¡°My Lord,¡± Myrkai greeted me. He handed me and Bia cloth wrapped bundles which smelled of food. ¡°I brought meat pies, since we won¡¯t have time for more.¡± ¡°Are we short on time,¡± I asked. I unwrapped the bundle and realized I was absolutely famished. The meat pie had a flaky crust with just the right blend of crispy and chewy filled with a smoky sauce and shredded meat. It was so delicious, I almost missed what Myrkai had to tell me. ¡°Did you just say we have another fight?¡± ¡°Yes, my Lord. We are scheduled for the supper special presentation,¡± Myrkai answered. I frowned. ¡°I think that¡¯s in breach of our contract. The maximum number of fights they can require is one a day.¡± ¡°No doubt you are correct, my Lord,¡± Myrkai replied, ¡°but if my experiences have shown me anything it is that contracts are valueless unless enforced. We can assume we would be defaulting if we fail to show up.¡± My frown deepened. If the management was willing to go to these lengths to work against me, I must have pissed someone off. They probably didn¡¯t like me adding Myrkai to my group or perhaps they just didn¡¯t like my odds. After all, if I won ten matches they would actually have to pay me, and it would be a king¡¯s ransom. ¡°Perhaps we should forfeit,¡± Bia suggested. ¡°I¡¯d really like to get paid for my efforts,¡± I countered. ¡°Let¡¯s go win this fight before we throw in the towel.¡± Bia crinkled her eyes in a cute look of confusion, but it was Myrkai who revealed his ignorance. ¡°What towel, my Lord?¡± ¡°Ah, it¡¯s an expression which means to give up or to admit defeat,¡± I answered. ¡°This should only be our third official fight, but so far I haven¡¯t seen any serious contestants that could deal with Bia, much less all three of us. I¡¯m curious to see what they are throwing at us this time around.¡± Bia straightened slightly at the implied praise, although she kept her expression carefully neutral. Myrkai simply nodded at my assessment. With that decision and the demolishment of our meat pies, we headed to anteroom III to await our match. Anteroom III, like the others, had two stone benches built into the walls along either side, but I noticed some odd stonework on the floor which brought me back to some of the architecture I observed in town, especially on my first day. Many of the buildings had seemed incomplete or built over the tops of ruins made from a different material. As I considered, a dizzying wealth of information from my souls presented itself and I had to brush it away for now. Apparently there was a great deal of history to the city of Akhar that I should think about when I had the time. The door to the arena slid open and we stepped out to the sound of the announcer. ¡°Welcome to Ker¡¯Haros, Bia¡¯Keres, and Myrkai for tonight¡¯s special arena match! They¡¯ll be our guests of honor for tonights Monster Mayhem encounter! Also, tonight, the master of ceremonies himself, Lord Meydan!¡± I looked up toward the box seating at the long end of the arena and saw a man waving to the crowd. I couldn¡¯t see him clearly from here and the amber shade of the barrier above the arena tinted the view oddly. There were other nobles present, as well, which was a departure from the norm. I had almost concluded that arena fights were solely an opiate of the masses to distract them from poverty and societal ills, but now it seemed that some events were considered proper events for the gentry to frequent. Specifically, if this Lord Meydan was the master of ceremonies of the arena, doesn¡¯t that mean he has something to do with making me fight four times in three days? ¡°Lord Hauser is presiding over the event this evening and his best conjurors will be summoning a creature from the elemental plane of water to challenge our worthy contestants. For those about to do battle, we salute you! If you die, die well!¡± I was distracted from the announcers words as the sound of bass chanting seemed to rumble through the walls. A pattern of runes and sigils lit up on the walls of the arena in every direction and the memories of my souls unnecessarily informed me that this was one big ass summoning circle built right into the stone of the arena, and we were in it. Rays of light thickened and took on the consistency of water and that water flowed from the runes like horizontal rain to meet in the middle of the arena where it rapidly grew into a large ball of water. With a cracking noise, the mass of water crystallized and took shape, smashing into the ground with force that rattled the spectators in their seats. Before us crouch a creature like none I had ever before envisioned. The shape was roughly that of a giant crab, but standing over four meters off the ground with at least half a meter of separation between its belly and the sandy arena floor. It sported ten crab-like legs, each tipped with a point edged and shaped like as a scythe. A pair of massive grasping claws snapped at the air, each one easily capable of cutting a horse in two, much less a man. It had no noticeable gaps in its shell. Only, maybe, the joints where its armored and segmented legs joined the main carapace could be called weak points. It had no eyes or feelers, or any of the other sensing apparatus of crustacean kind, yet the way it shifted its body to face us left no doubt in my mind that it new we were here. I felt my mind click and sidestep and my emotions fell away, leaving only a clear rapid analytical response.
Your fear status has been cancelled as the Chosen of Death.
¡°Bia, engage the right claw. Myrkai, engage the left,¡± I ordered rapidly. ¡°Yes, my Lord,¡± they responded in unison and the pair leapt forward, running in step to attack their targets. I heard the announcer¡¯s voice roll over the top of our conversation. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°There you have it! The deadly Crystarix summoned from the alien planes of elemental water. Immune to most normal weapons and possessed of immense strength, how can our contestants possibly deal with such a creature?¡± ¡°Good question, mister announcer,¡± I mumbled under my breath. I started running even as I said it, though. Despite their skills, I didn¡¯t expect either Bia or Myrkai to deal with the creature by themselves. Ahead of me, Myrkai accelerates over the last dozen feet and launch himself full onto the monster¡¯s claw, finding purchase with his claws to simply stay on it. The creature attempted to scrape him off on the ground and then seemed intent on snapping him in half with its spare claw when Bia arrive and used her staff point on to smack it right in the joint behind the oversized claw. I was gratified as it showed a pain response and drew its claw back, leaving the front of the body exposed. I performed a flying leap and slashed downward with my sword. The blade of the weapon sank into the creature to the hilt and my weight forced the creature down to the ground. For a split second, I thought that was it, but its free claw came across and smashed into me, throwing me onto the ground to the accompaniment of bright flashing lights in my head. I smashed into the ground hard and left my sword behind, stuck in its shell. Come on, pull it together, I told myself. This was no time to be napping.
Your dazed status has been cancelled as the Chosen of Death.
The flashing lights cleared out, although there were still fuzzy black edges to my vision, and my arms and legs started doing what I told them to instead of mindlessly flailing about. I was just in time to watch one of those giant scythe like legs shearing down at me. I rolled right and Bia cleared my body in a flying tackle that knocked the leg off target. It still sheared through my rib cage about three inches from missing me completely and slashed along my back almost to my spine as I rolled. I found myself lying directly under the belly of the monster. I could see through the transparent shell where veins filled with ice water and crystalline shapes seemed to fulfill the life functions of the alien creature. The wound in my side burned like fire and froze like winter, while blood was pumping out of me like water out of a canteen.
Your frozen and chilled statuses have been cancelled as the Chosen of Death.
You have taken a severe wound for 18 points of damage. You are immune to death by massive damage. You are bleeding severely at the rate of 5 hit points per round.
My body felt hard and stiff, and it crackled as I forced it to move at full speed. In fact, I was moving as fast as I ever had as the monster above me shifted to stab at me with its other legs. For a few moments, it was all frantic rolling and dodging while I heard Bia shrieking and going to town on the leftmost legs, pummeling them with her staff for all she was worth. Myrkai seemed to be occupying the front claws by himself, but that was only a guess. I hardly had time to consider it. The Crystarix lifted its body up and I rose to a knee before I realized this was the precursor of a smash attack. There wasn¡¯t time to dodge. I looked forward and happened to lock eyes with Bia. Without time for words, she threw her staff to me and as the creature¡¯s body began to fall, I planted it upright into the ground and ducked. The staff gouged into the body and for a split second, I thought it would hold. With an ear splitting crack, the staff didn¡¯t just break, it shattered like a glass pillar. The shards of staff disintegrated as the staff released a blast of energy far beyond my expectations. My body flew backwards from the blast while I watched the Crystarix arch up into the sky like a several ton ice sculpture launched from a magical snow machine. I smacked into the wall of the arena which had been over a 100 feet away.
You have taken impact damage for 8 hit points and are dying.
You are -1 hit points and bleeding out. Override dying status?
¡°Yes,¡± I said instantly, and just like blinking I was fully conscious again in time to see the Crystarix impact the barrier of the arena. It had come through the destruction of Bia¡¯s staff almost unscathed, but when it contacted the amber barrier, its body simply disintegrated into so much ice water which sprayed out across the arena.
You are victorious! Your team has successfully defeated a crystarix. You have gained 1500 experience.
Your fame as a gladiator has grown! +10 Reputation
Your status is critical. You are at -4 hit point and bleeding out.
I wrapped my hand around my side and tried to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, that seemed to be doing the trick, so I held it while a dull shroud covered my vision, casting everything into the grey scale. Bia was limping toward me without much hope and Myrkai took her arm to help her walk. The entire front of her body was soaked in blood and her robe was torn from shoulder to waist. So that¡¯s what they have to throw at us, I mused silently. Supernatural creatures summoned from other planes by a cabal of wizards. I should have known better. A quite *shik* sound as my sword stuck point down into the ground six inches to my left couldn¡¯t make me jump. I was feeling too dull for more than gratitude that it hadn¡¯t simply speared my head. Bia reached me and went to close my eyes. I caught her wrist with my free hand. ¡°I¡¯m bleeding,¡± I said. ¡°Can you fix that?¡± ¡°Y-yes, my Lord,¡± Bia choked. A tear trickled down her cheek as she worked her healing magic.
You are stable at 1 hit point. For surviving after reaching the point of death, you have gained a point of Luck.
A little blue window informed me. Then Bia passed out across me. Does this make us blood brothers, er, siblings? I wondered as our wounds smeared across one another. ¡°Fool,¡± Myrkai muttered as he took the rest of her weight and scooped her into a princess carry. ¡°But I supppose she had little choice. Can you walk now, my Lord?¡± I coughed up some blood. ¡°Yeah, I can make it.¡± I stood with the aid of the wall and tuned out the announcer who was babbling something. I grabbed my sword and together with Myrkai, who was merely battered, and the unconscious Bia¡¯Keres, I staggered out of the arena and back to our quarters to collapse yet again. Chapter 12 - First Evolution I fell into a deep sleep as soon as it was safe to collapse onto the hard stone bed of my arena quarters. Myrkai was saying something to me at the time, but I didn¡¯t catch any of it. Sleep felt like falling into a deep dark hole filled with softness and I let it take me away from the pains of my body. I found myself floating in a sea of emerald green light with no land or sky in sight, just brilliant green in every direction. I looked around confusedly. This is new, I thought to myself.
You have absorbed a large amount of death elemental energy. Would you like to evolve your powers?
Death elemental energy? I suddenly remembered the explosion of Bia¡¯Keres staff. I didn¡¯t give it more than a passing thought at the time, but I had been wondering why it didn¡¯t blow me to smithereens when it shattered. I suppose if the energy it released was death energy than it was compatible with me or something? ¡°Yes,¡± I responded to the little blue box. I was never sure if a verbal reply was really needed, but it seemed to work. Actually, since I¡¯m passed out then my reply is only mental anyway¡­
Evolution granted!
You have gained the skill Death Elemental Blast! You have gained the skill Death Elemental Bolt! You have gained the title Undying! You have gained a point of Strength! You have gained a point of Charisma! You have gained 600 experience points!
Elemental Blast
You have learned to manifest the powers of death as a physical force with strong knockback and increased damage. You can combine these powers with physical strikes for maximum effect. Increasing the mana spent increases knockback and damage. Active Base Mana Cost: 5
Death Elemental Bolt
You have learned to project the powers of death as a physical force. This bolt forms according to your will and fires as a projectile. Enemies struck take physical damage. Increasing the mana spent increases knockback and damage. Active Base Mana Cost: 5
Undying
You are the necromancer and thus immune to the effects of simple death. When your body is beaten to the point of uselessness, your soul is free to act separately, including manifesting to physically attack or using other abilities. As a soul, you are naturally incorporeal. This ability actives when your body reaches the dying stage. As long as your soul is on hand, your body can be healed. Your soul has only soul points. Upon the death of your soul, you will have failed, and your soul will eventually coalesce in the afterlife to await reincarnation.
Wait, wait, wait! I mentally complained, You mean to tell me titles can have effects like that? What about my other titles! ¡°Titles!¡± I yelled out loud, er, in my head while being unconscious. This was starting to be confusing.
Chosen of Death
You have all the positive traits of an undead creature. You are tougher than a normal creature, as the undead, and have no vital points. You do not require sleep or air to continue functioning, but they are necessary for higher thought, unless some sort of substitute is arranged. Your mind is resistant to mental domination, confusion, fear, insanity, and all other mental effects, both natural and magical, due to the type of the connection your body has with your soul. All your emotional responses are deadened, but it is still possible to feel emotion. You may still eat, sleep, and breath which continue to have beneficial effects for your mind and sense of well being. You can perform other biological functions if you desire.
Gladiator
As you win battles, you will be recognized as a successful gladiator. When you perform a particularly impressive kill, your fame as a gladiator will increase faster.
Undying
You are the necromancer and thus immune to the effects of simple death. When your body is beaten to the point of uselessness, your soul is free to act separately, including manifesting to physically attack or using other abilities. As a soul, you are naturally incorporeal. This ability actives when your body reaches the dying stage. As long as your soul is on hand, your body can be healed. Your soul has only soul points. Upon the death of your soul, you will have failed and will eventually coalesce in the afterlife to await reincarnation.
¡°Well,¡± I said out loud, ¡°That certainly explains some things.¡± I re-read Chosen of Death several times, trying to get a grasp on the implications of what it was saying. This meant that I could exist indefinitely without dying, regardless of my atmosphere. For instance, if I was dropped into space, I would dry up like a husk and my higher thought functions would be lost, but I would remain alive indefinitely, for certain values of ¡®alive¡¯ at least. That didn¡¯t sound¡­ pleasant. I took a deep imaginary breath and went over my stats, skills, and titles one more time. Looking at Soul Rend and Death Elemental Blast and Bolt, shouldn¡¯t I be able to do something that directly affects the soul?
Through careful thought, you have unlocked additional skills! You have gained Soul Blast! You have gained Soul Bolt! You have gained a point of Intelligence!
Soul Blast
You have learned to manifest the powers of death as an intangible force that directly damages the soul. Enemies struck take tearing damage. Increasing the mana spent increases damage. Active Base Mana Cost: 5
Soul Bolt
You have learned to project the powers of death as an intangible force that directly targets the soul. This bolt forms according to your will and fires as a projectile. Enemies struck take tearing damage. Increasing the mana spent increases damage. Active Base Mana Cost: 5
As the last little blue windows popped up and I read through them, the seemingly infinite sea of green energy seemed to soak into my body, until I glowed softly in a black empty void. Given my recent ponderings on space travel, it was giving me the heebie-jeebies. Couldn¡¯t we have a nice little room? In time with my thought, a small wood paneled room materialized around me. Almost by accident, a Victorian style canopy bed appeared against the rightmost wall, stretching lengthwise into the space. Bookshelves rapidly grew from the walls and floor to cover two entire walls and an incomplete game of a chess on a small table for two grew into the corner. Behind me was the door into the room and to the left were a row of hooks for coats and hats. I glanced around and relaxed. This was my old imaginary safe room. I remember imagining it as the ideal space. It was left over from my school days when I was active in theatre, so the hooks were for stowing characters I intended to play. It had been a long time since I visited it, but this place was deeply ingrained in my mind. I sat in a reading chair to my right in the corner that I wasn¡¯t certain had actually been there before I intended to sit down. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I had gained a lot of power, but it was safe to assume that Bia had lost just as much or more. My mana pool was shallow enough that for all my new abilities, I couldn¡¯t use them often. Just one swing at maximum power would drop me into mana drain status, which wasn¡¯t a pleasant place to be. I still didn¡¯t have any good basic combat abilities and for all the improvements I had made, I was beginning to wonder if my original plan to enter the arena was nearly as brilliant as I had hoped. For one thing, it was painfully obvious that the powers that be could and would pull out more and more dangerous creatures until me and my companions were reduced to twitching lumps of flesh that scream and bleed. Additionally, I was no closer to figuring out where the source of death energy was, other than vague notions of down and over there. It was time to quit while we were ahead. It meant I wouldn¡¯t be getting paid and Bia had lost her staff for no good reason, other than my own burgeoning ego. I sighed and idly took a sip of a tall glass of green liquid. Heh, Mountain Dew I chuckled to myself. It was surprising I was able to hold this all together in my head. Maybe it had to do with the Dream Walker ability I picked up the other day, although I suppose anyone could do this. Back to the matter at hand, I would have to apologize to Bia when the time was right. It was safe to assume her staff had sentimental as well as material value. So, what¡¯s next? I asked myself. Forfeiting a match in the arena made you an official persona non grata in Akhar, according to the fine print of the contract. It wasn¡¯t enough that you lost all your earnings, they also didn¡¯t want you hanging around and perhaps telling future contestants that it was a rigged game. So, leaving Akhar was the only move. North of Akhar was another city state, once we crossed the river. It was a place called Denshol and it was rumored to be more honest and less friendly. It also had an arena, but the contestants were 90% slaves and prisoners, so if I ended up fighting there, it would mean I had a bad day. Still, the only other options were the southern barbarian tribes or attempting to cross the mountains to the west. Neither of those were good options. The barbarians apparently killed first and asked questions later, literally. Their shamans had a penchant for the old fashioned kind of necromancy that involved plenty of zombies. Crossing the mountains was out, too. The best passes were either much further north or smack dab in the middle of the barbarian lands. Everything in between consisted of towering peaks with a nearly serrated edge cutting against the sky. ¡°Denshol it is,¡± I said to myself. All I really wanted now was some sleep. I was mostly dead when I laid down, and it looked like hard travel and short rations were in the near future. I climbed out of my comfortable chair and stretched out on the dream bed. In a few moments, my consciousness drifted away into natural dreaming.
Myrkai chose to put Bia¡¯Keres in his own room, so that she would have a bed. The only reason she didn¡¯t have a room of her own is because she had refused one initially, he guessed. It¡¯s not like the arena had a shortage of space. Hardly any of the combatants used these rooms for long. He left the arena and made his way to a nearby tavern with an unusually lenient attitude toward Bast and other beastkin, only to find the place overflowing with patrons. ¡°Myrkai, congratulations!¡± ¡°Myrkai, have a drink on me!¡± ¡°Myrkai, can you tell us how he did it? How did Ker¡¯Haros launch the Crystarix?¡± Men shouted as he was ushered into the tavern. He was swamped with well wishers and curious fans before he even stepped foot in the tavern. It seemed like a significant number of arena goers had chosen to celebrate his team¡¯s successful fight with a little after party. ¡°Thank you,¡± Myrkai answered automatically. He was pushed through the crowd to the bar and a cluster of patrons gathered around him preventing his escape. Someone put a mug in his hand and someone else put a meal in front of him. ¡°Now, hey there, calm down!¡± ordered the bartender, and most of the shouting decreased to the point that Myrkai could actually hear himself speak over the hubbub. ¡°Tell us how it was, Myrkai. How did you end up with Ker¡¯Haros and Bia¡¯Keres in the first place?¡± ¡°Um,¡± Myrkai stuttered. He jumped as he felt someone petting his back. He was used to not only a normal amount of personal space, but a little more on top of that due to fear, racism, or simple distrust. Having six different bodies within six inches of him was setting his nerves on end. He took a drink to steady himself. He was afraid the next time someone touched him he would remove their arm, and that would land him in serious trouble. ¡°Could you all¡­¡± he made a shooing motion and the crowd backed off, giving him slightly more breathing room. ¡°Come on, Myrkai,¡± urged one of the waitresses who was not currently waitressing as she should be. ¡°What¡¯s it like to fight with Ker¡¯Haros?¡± The alchohol was higher quality than Myrkai was used to getting. In fact, he didn¡¯t normally drink, since slaves only rated water. He didn¡¯t see any harm in telling these people how great Ker¡¯Haros was. In fact, he could consider it a service to his Master to spread his fame. ¡°I was purchased by the half-orc Anger,¡± Myrkai began. He continued to tell his tale to a roomful of interested patrons for the next hour, including blow by blow accounts of his battles both with and against Ker¡¯haros and Bia¡¯Keres. He didn¡¯t know too much about the magic Ker¡¯haros used, but he tried to answer the questions as best he could. Before long, he found himself telling the story a second time to a different mix of patrons and over again late into the night. He drank more than a little and passed out sometime around three in the morning in the middle of a crowd of patrons who now knew the story better than he did, what with the amount of embellishments it had undergone.
Bia¡¯keres awoke in the darkness, alone and cold. A blue window interrupted her vision, but she swept it away without reading it. The long slash across her torso she earned when she tackled the Crystarix leg burned and froze at the same time and her other minor cuts and bruises ached, but she paid no heed to those things. Her first thought was for her Master. Did he live? Did he die? Where was he? She crawled out of the minimalistic stone bed and reached for her staff, scrabbling for it in the dark around her sleeping place where it should lie. Where was it!? What¡­ Memory flooded back to her and she choked back a sob as she remembered it shattering, the blast knocking her to the ground. The horror of her loss floored her now. She sank back down onto the bed, her hands uselessly grasping. Without her staff, what was she? That token was her badge of office and scepter of power all in one. Without it, could she still consider herself Bia¡¯Keres? How could this happen? It wasn¡¯t fair! She felt the chaotic storm of emotions threatening to destroy her reason and she grasped at the only sane thought. She had to find her Master. He would know what to do. She staggered to her feet again. With an effort, she summoned light into her eyes and they glowed, showing her the room she was in. She saw typical arena quarters, but her Master was not here. She pushed out the door into the torch lit hallway and regained her bearings. This was Myrkai¡¯s room. The thought lent her strength. Her Master would be in his own room, then, right? One of the arena staff gave her a concerned look as she limped down the hallway, using the wall for support. Her glare froze any questions on his lips, and he scurried away. Her Master¡¯s door opened easily and she slipped into the darkened room, closing it behind her. Her hands found his form, sprawled on the stone bed and wrapped in a blanket. He lived! His flesh felt warm to her touch and she found herself crawling under the covers with him without thinking about it. He was warm and alive and suddenly she felt safe as the swirl of anguish and recrimination soaked out of her body under the influence of his heat. She snuggled closer, wrapping herself around him like a favorite teddy bear. She hadn¡¯t felt comfortable like this since before she could remember and the tension she seemed to carry at all times relaxed. She plunged into blissful natural sleep for the first time in years. Chapter 13 - Escape I awoke to foreign sensations and lay very still while I tried to translate my surroundings into meaning. The room was dark, but being undead I didn¡¯t actually need my eyes to perceive my surroundings anyway if zombies were anything to go on. That entire line of thought was mainly a distraction from the one really confusing aspect of my current reality. Bia¡¯Keres was cuddled around my body like it was her favorite stuffed animal. My first instinct was to freeze, and I was still doing that because I hadn¡¯t come up with a second instinct. Given our interactions in the past, I could only assume that if I woke her she would be by turns furious and embarrassed. Depending on what emotional state she was in when she decided this was a good idea she might very well kill me during her furious turn. So I held very still and tried to delay the inevitable. That worked fine until my mind began to wander and my body started to realize that it was being embraced by a beautiful woman. A very beautiful woman, lying in my bed with her body wrapped around mine¡­ bleeding on me. Alright, thank goodness for battle damage to cool my rising ardor. My mind wandered to all the times she had saved my life in the last several days. I literally owed her my life several times over, and that wasn¡¯t even counting the fact that she fed me and clothed me and stood by me like a solid pillar of strength. I felt bad that I hadn¡¯t told her everything I knew, but if she really understood, there¡¯s no way she¡¯d stick around, right? I moved my free arm to hug her and kissed the top of her head. This was nice. I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. The door suddenly slammed open and both me and Bia launched ourselves to our feet. Bia swiped her hand across the edge of the bed and seemed surprised that she came back empty handed. I materialized a bright green aura of energy like a gauntlet around my fist and prepared to punch the intruder into oblivion. ¡°We have a match,¡± Myrkai yelled, before the door was even finished bouncing off the wall. ¡°Holy Bastet!¡± he exclaimed when saw my glowing fist. He awkwardly fell backwards and crab walked away from me. ¡°What do you mean we have a match?¡± I asked. I dismissed the energy from my hand and stepped out into the hallway. This conveniently distanced me from Bia who seemed to be wrestling with her confusion. ¡°We have a match at noon,¡± Myrkai responded. He carefully stood up without his usual grace. ¡°Are you all right?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m f-fine,¡± Myrkai answered with the barest hint of a slur. A whiff of his breath reached me and it carried the acrid tang of cheap alcohol. ¡°Myrkai, are you drunk?¡± I asked. Myrkai studied the wall without meeting my eyes and remained silent, not that I needed anymore an answer than that. I frowned. ¡°We¡¯ll discuss that later,¡± I informed him. ¡°What time is it now?¡± ¡°About the eleventh hour of the day,¡± Myrkai answered. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time.¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± I scowled. ¡°I¡¯m surprised they didn¡¯t schedule us for dawn.¡± ¡°By tradition, there are no major fights before noon,¡± Bia supplied. I massaged my temples while I thought. ¡°Bia, are you well enough to supply healing? Both you and I are still wounded.¡± ¡°Y-yes,¡± Bia answered uncertainly. ¡°I¡¯ll need Myrkai¡¯s help and it will take several minutes at least.¡± ¡°Then we had better get started.¡± The three of us squeezed into the tiny arena quarters and shut the door. Myrkai helpfully filled and lit a small lantern in the room with a burning splinter supplied for that purpose. It was the first time I has seen the glow of firelight in here, since Bia routinely supplied her magical light. ¡°Both of you sit next to me and take my hands,¡± Bia ordered. We complied, of course. Over the next several minutes, energy pulsed through me many times and I felt my wounds lessen and the gash across Bia¡¯s chest noticeably reduced until it resembled a thin scratch. Myrkai¡¯s bumps and bruises seemed to be reduced as well and the wound in my chest stopped hurting seriously. I felt the energy healing me stop and Bia seemed to take a moment to center herself. ¡°That¡¯s all I can do for now. The rest should recover soon enough on its own,¡± Bia¡¯keres informed us. ¡°Good, then it¡¯s time for us to get out of here,¡± I said. ¡°But, aren¡¯t we going to fight?¡± Bia asked. ¡°Bia¡¯keres,¡± I said carefully, ¡°we barely won the last battle with the loss of your staff. Now, due to my folly, we are weaker than we started and the next battle will no doubt be worse. They could even summoned more than one Crystarix to challenge us and we have no reliable means of winning. I think I¡¯ve gained everything I can from the Arena for now.¡± Bia¡¯Keres gaze seemed lost for a moment, but she bowed her head submissively. ¡°Yes, My Lord.¡± I knew enough to realize this wasn¡¯t the last I would be hearing about this. Myrkai on the other hand, looked far more uncomfortable than I had expected. ¡°Is there something wrong, Myrkai?¡± I inquired again. ¡°Uh, maybe, my Lord. I¡­uhm¡­¡± he trailed off. I raised a questioning eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯ll see, my Lord. It may be nothing.¡± ¡°Very well. We¡¯d better get going, then. I want to be gone before they declare us forfeit or by the terms of the contract, they can strip us of our possessions, as well.¡± We walked swiftly through the corridors of the arena to a small side door that exited directly onto the plaza and found a wall of people. The plaza surrounding the arena seemed to be packed in every direction. Many of them instantly recognized us. ¡°Ker¡¯Haros! Ker¡¯Haros can I have an autograph! Bia¡¯Keres will you marry me!¡± The murmur of the crowd only grew as we quickly retreated back inside the arena. There was no way we could make it through that crowd in a timely manner, assuming they didn¡¯t tear us apart when they learned we were escaping. I had often heard of the fickleness of the mob. I didn¡¯t want to experience it first hand. ¡°It seems we have two choices,¡± I said. My companions simply gazed at me expectantly. ¡°We can choose to fight and find out what sort of new monstrosity they have to throw at us,¡± Bia¡¯Keres remained impassive, but Myrkai didn¡¯t look happy at the prospect, ¡°or we can simply wait in our arena quarters until they come to strip us of all our equipment and toss us out of the city or even throw us in jail.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t trust them to be lenient,¡± Myrkai cautioned. ¡°Especially since your power is something they¡¯ll want to understand before they let you loose.¡± ¡°My Lord,¡± Bia¡¯Keres replied, ¡°It is not acceptable for your sword to fall into the hands of another.¡± I glanced at both of them and nodded. ¡°Then we have a match to fight.¡± Moment¡¯s later, we stepped into the arena anteroom number III. An arena attendant was waiting for us. ¡°Good, you¡¯ve arrived,¡± the attendant said. ¡°Several fights are scheduled ahead of yours, so it will be a little while before your match starts.¡± I just nodded and sat down on the bench. I set my sword on my lap and examined it. I hadn¡¯t given it more than a cursory glance since I got it, I realized. The hard polished scabbard still gleamed blackly and I unsheathed the blade a few inches. A nearly liquid surface with a green sheen stared back at me. I could feel the weight of old death on the blade, but for the first time, I truly studied those sentiments. I looked deep into the reflection and it seemed to grow. It filled my vision and the room began to fade away. The roar of the arena sounded distant and quiet as I listened intently for the sound of the perfect strike cutting through the air to sever the life of the enemy. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Your match is about to begin,¡± the attendant stated. His sudden statement jarred me from my meditation. I nodded and wordlessly stood as the arena gate slid open and I lead the way out onto the arena floor. The thirty foot stone walls capped with a dome of amber force felt more restricting than ever before. The heavy door of the anteroom slid shut behind us with finality. We walked out from the shadow of the wall and as the crowd saw us their roar was a physical force that rattled me. I stopped and stared out into the stadium seating to see every seat filled. Tens of thousands of voices cheered us on and despite the benches of the stadium, nearly every spectator was on their feet screaming. Even the box seating for the noble and wealthy were filled to the brim, although they merely watched. ¡°Ker¡¯haros, Bia¡¯Keres, and Myrkai have made it to their fourth arena match, further than any contestant in the last year! Today, they will face one of the mightiest creatures Lord Hauser keeps. The Juggernaut of Destruction! The Regenerating Rager! The gargantuan troll, Grimhaus!¡± In a departure from all the other matches we¡¯d entered, a massive door under the noble¡¯s boxes split and began to open wide. Each leaf of the giant stone double doors was almost 30¡¯ tall, higher than the slightly lower walls around the majority of the arena, but the box seating was placed higher. I had a sudden inspiration. Those doors opened in the direction of the death energy I was seeking and all my wandering about the arena had never gotten me close. ¡°Follow me,¡± I yelled. I started sprinting across the arena towards the still widening doors. Even if this creature was massive, he wasn¡¯t as massive as that slab of stone nearly a meter thick, more than a dozen feet wide, and 30¡¯ tall. We were scarcely passed the midway point of the massive arena floor as Grimhaus emerged. Even from this distance I could see how phenomenally ugly the creature was. It stood more than twenty feet tall with a stoop shouldered slouch and an uneven gait as it shambled a few feet into the arena. We rapidly approach as it blinked platter sized yellowish eyes of muddy green. It¡¯s nose alone was the size of a full grown man with a wart the size of my head, and odd growths, moles, warts, and puckered scars dotted and crisscrossed its body in such a profusion that there didn¡¯t seem to be an inch of smooth skin on the monstrosity. It¡¯s frame was extremely lean and its arms stretch all the way to the ground, dragging as it took a step. The skin was a mottled greenish gray with large splotches of discoloration. As it caught sight of us, the huge mouth turned up in a grin that stretched more than halfway around its face and its lips peeled back to reveal a pair of yellowed and filthy tusks protruding from its mouth, one of which was broken off jaggedly. The giant doors had only opened out to perpendicular and now slowed and started to reverse direction. We only had a few seconds for my desperate plan to work. ¡°Myrkai, grab its attention and lure it toward the leftmost door. Bia, fly passed him and get to the edge of the arena. Buy me a few seconds and get him into position.¡± My companions nodded, still obedient to my commands in the heat of battle. I sprinted for all I was worth and picked up another increase of speed as I gave up breathing for a few moments. As I reached the door, I channeled powered into my feet and released an elemental blast. As I hoped, the effect launched me into the air in support of my jump. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t any good at this and it spun me around sideways in a corkscrew before I smashed painfully into the edge of the door. Before I fell, I stabbed my sword into the stone. I was relieved as it penetrated a solid six inches and I used the leverage to right myself. Below me, I could see Myrkai dodging blows from Grimhaus. The creature was deceptively fast and fought in a crouch that put its mouth within striking range of the ground. Bia¡¯Keres stood to the back and seemed to be concentrating. I could only assume she was helping in some way. I used the sword to lift myself the last several feet to the edge of the door, which continued to slowly swing shut. I looked down and everything was in position. I couldn¡¯t be heard over the crowd noise, so I had to forego warning Myrkai. I could only hope he would be fast enough. I sprinted along the top of the door and looked down to see three massive hinges sedately turning. I took one deep breath, grasped my sword in both hands, and jumped down swinging. The sword cut cleanly through the first three foot tall hinge, slicing through the narrowest portion I could strike. The impact nearly suspended my fall until it broke through. The second hinge went the same way and my sword came out glowing with heat. The last hinge began to twist as the full weight of the door fell on it and I hit it crookedly. It threw me to the ground without cutting through, but it didn¡¯t seem to matter. As I watched, the massive door fell with deceptive speed. I couldn¡¯t see behind the door from my position, but the crowd grew quiet as the massive weight of stone crashed down with a concussive blast that left Bia tumbling away. The weight completely smashed the troll. One of his arms protruded from the side of the stone slab while copious amounts of pressure squeezed troll blood sprayed out in the direction of the doors collapse. For a moment, I couldn¡¯t see Myrkai, then I spotted him drenched in greenish ichor, staggering away from the edge of the door. He¡¯d made it, if only barely. I was suddenly rocked forward as the crowd attained new levels of volume. I felt like my ears were going to crumble and dust down to the ground, it was so loud. I glanced toward the arena exit, but instead of peacefully opening to let us out, it divulged a squad of soldiers and more were coming out of the other entrances. I sprinted forward and caught up to Myrkai, still trying to get the trollblood out of his mouth, nose, and eyes. I handed him a rag and grabbed his shoulder to hurry him along. Bia¡¯Keres was just picking herself off the ground. She also had some troll blood on her back, but was otherwise clean. ¡°It¡¯s time for us to go, Bia,¡± I said as I hustled Myrkai along. ¡°Go where, my Lord,¡± Bia asked. ¡°These are the beast cages.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll just have to find a way out of it,¡± I answered. The soldiers were streaming into the arena at a full sprint now, trying to overtake us. Myrkai finally got the blood out of his eyes and started moving under his own power and Bia trailed behind. Together, we dived into the dimly lit beast pens under the arena. Chapter 14 - The City of Bone The beast pens were massive. Shallow wide stairs led steadily downward and the ceiling remained level, slipping away into darkness above us, even to my supernatural vision. Cages ranging in size from merely large enough to hold a person up to the size of a mobile home lined the wide entryway and their occupants hooted, snarled, and gibbered as we fled deeper. My excitement mounted as I felt us nearing the site of death energy, although it was still below us. The sounds of fighting broke out behind us and my last clear view through the open doorway showed one of the guardsman being eating by the troll¡¯s arm which seemed to have reformed itself into a rather normal sized troll only slightly larger than a big man. I shuddered as it truly sunk in how incredibly unfair that fight would have been through any conventional means. Even squashed flatter than a pancake, that troll was still alive. *Wraghk* *Krgh* Myrkai rasped. He was still trying to get the troll blood out of his throat I guessed. We were deep enough now and the path had angled far enough that the doorway was no longer visible. Bia seemed to be repeating a word under her breath, less like a spell and more like the nonsense words you use for mediation, although it wasn¡¯t ¡°Om¡±. Her eyes began to glow like headlights lighting her way. I was just glad to see proof she hadn¡¯t lost all her powers with the loss of her staff. Although the beast pens were deep, they were limited by the outer wall of arena, and we had reached it, I saw. The largest cage in the pens had to be located here in the deepest part because it was tall enough to comfortably accommodate the troll with space above it for feeding from beyond the reach of his unnaturally long arms. I could even see the hoist and the crane they must use to drop him whole cattle. ¡°Now what?¡± Bia asked without the typical honorifics. I guess I was falling in her estimation. Well, it was bound to happen eventually. Eric, Samantha, Ham, I called mentally. There was something about the city? How old it is? I could almost remember it, but the information seemed incomplete. Unlike some of the knowledge I¡¯d gained from them, like Eric¡¯s clear understanding of law or Ham¡¯s mastery of the language, this felt like I was pulling at incomplete chunks from multiple places. I struggled to piece it together as words and concepts, not just formless and incomplete ideas. ¡°My Lord,¡± Bia¡¯Keres interrupted. ¡°What are we to do?¡± I couldn¡¯t get a fix on it. I needed to talk to them face to face, not sift through their memories for something they didn¡¯t know they even knew. I could feel the death energy almost directly below us. ¡°Teach me to meditate,¡± I demanded. ¡°Now?!¡± Bia¡¯keres asked. ¡°My Lord¡± she added belatedly. ¡°Meditation takes time ¨C years to master. I can¡¯t teach it to you in the next 30 seconds!¡± I cast about for an answer. In the distance, I heard the measured tread of booted feet slowly approaching. The sound carried well to us, so they might still be minutes away, but she was obviously right. We didn¡¯t have time for lessons on the metaphysical. ¡°Then, knock me out!¡± I said. Almost before the words had left my mouth, her petite fist smashed into me right at the point of my jaw and whipped my head around then slammed into my jaw and temple twice more in rapid succession. Darkness swept in from the limits of my vision.
You have been knocked unconscious. Do you wish to override this status Y/N?
No, that¡¯s fine, I thought. ¡°As you wish, my Lord,¡± I heard Bia say. She sounds a little too satisfied with herself, and that thought followed me into the darkness.
I found myself seated in a dimly lit chamber with a bare electric bulb overhead, similar to the interrogation scenes you see in the movies. I was seated in a cheap metal folding chair at a similarly cheap folding card table just big enough for four. Samantha faced me from across the way with Eric to my left and Ham to my right. ¡°Alright, I need answers and I need ¡®em now,¡± I growled, channeling every hardboiled gumshoe that ever was. Samantha looked around fearfully at the darkness. Eric just seemed confused. Ham, on the other hand, reached up to touch the bare light bulb and predictably burnt his fingers. Those things are hot, after all. I rattled my brain to get the idiot out. ¡°Everyone, focus please. I need to know about the history of the city.¡± ¡°Ak¡¯har?¡± Samantha asked timidly. ¡°Right, Ak¡¯Har,¡± I encouraged. ¡°There¡¯s something about its history. Something collectively that we know, but each of you only know parts.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ really really old,¡± Eric supplied somewhat unhelpfully. ¡°Right, and?¡± I pushed. ¡°¡¯Sabout that whole destruction thing that happened?¡± Ham asked. ¡°The city was destroyed?¡± I asked. ¡°No,¡± Eric replied, ¡°This city is built on the ruins of one before.¡± ¡°Right!¡± Samantha chimed in, ¡°It was rebuilt over the top of the old city.¡± ¡°That¡¯s where it gets its nickname,¡± Ham supplied, ¡°The City of Bone¡­ or was it the City of Bones?¡± ¡°But that¡¯s not what Ak¡¯Har means,¡± Eric said. ¡°The name is older than that, from before¡­ before the current city. I guess it should really be called New Ak¡¯Har, at least that¡¯s clear from some of the oldest legal documents.¡± ¡°I jus¡¯ know there¡¯s no decent work, cause nobody¡¯ll build nothin¡¯ new,¡± Ham says. ¡°It¡¯s all repair work and patchwork and cover-ups.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no new work?¡± I asked. ¡°This is a large city. There should always be new construction. Things fall apart, as a poet once said.¡± ¡°Not Ak¡¯Har,¡± Samantha argued. ¡°Ak¡¯Har just seems to last forever. Only the houses in the poorer quarters have to be fixed very much. All the nicer buildings just don¡¯t seem to wear out at all.¡± ¡°The poorer quarter¡­¡± I tried to imagine the lay of the land. To the south were the slums which Ham¡¯s memory supplied images of their crapped quarters. Streets completely covered over with makeshift tents and whole sections of the area given over to crude paths atop irremovable rubble or shifted stone. Eric and Samantha¡¯s mind showed me the middle and upper class districts, even a glimpse of the houses in the noble sector looking like polished ivory and apparently indestructible through common means. Yet at the center of all this stood the arena, a massive stone edifice clearly built from conventional materials. A massive¡­ empty¡­ space with a roughly oval plaza surrounding it. I filled in the gaps and tried to picture it from above. An oval shaped space with greater amounts of destruction in one direction and intact buildings to the North. It was a crater. The arena was built in a crater. ¡°How old?¡± I asked. The three spirits only looked at me quizzically. Suddenly I felt a presence behind me and the fiery blast of the forges heat on my skin. ¡°How old?¡± muttered Bagwil. ¡°Why, laddie, it¡¯s the City of Bone. As old as the very bones of the earth.¡± The darkened room seemed to shimmer and I saw beast cages around me. ¡°Wake up,¡± Ham said slapped me across the face. ¡°Wait,¡± I said, trying to hold back his hand. ¡°Wake up,¡± insisted Eric, slapping me from the other side. ¡°It¡¯s there,¡± I argued. ¡°I can feel it. There¡¯s an answer in what we¡¯ve said.¡± ¡°Wake up,¡± ordered a woman¡¯s voice.
¡°Wake up.¡± *Smack* ¡°Wake up.¡± *Smack* ¡°Wa-¡° ¡°I¡¯m awake!¡± I said. I hid behind my arm and peeked at the one responsible for turning my dreamtime strategy meeting weird. Bia¡¯Keres had been leaning over me saying ¡°wake up¡± and slapping me so hard my teeth tingled for who knows how long. She must have been alternating sides, too, because I could feel both sides burning. ¡°How long was I out?¡± ¡°My Lord, you were unconscious for nearly 5 minutes. The soldiers will be here momentarily,¡± she answered. Not even a false apology for smacking me around. That heart to heart we needed was rapidly moving up my list of priorities. Number one was still getting out of here alive, however. ¡°They sure are taking their time,¡± I commented. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t they. We have nowhere to go,¡± she answered and there was more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. As if to underscore her pessimism, Myrkai started hacking and coughing again like a drowning victim. He sounded like he was getting worse, and the fact that I could hear the difference in less than half an hour meant his ailment wasn¡¯t natural. I tried to remember everything my spirits had told me. Especially Bagwil chiming in with his moment of insight. The old city went as deep as the bones of the earth. There must be old dead here, then. Dead from long, long ago, unless such spirits had simply faded from existence. I couldn¡¯t be sure how the process worked. ¡°Skills,¡± I muttered under my breath and examined the one I was thinking of.
Death Sense
The Necromancer is the master of the dead. He instinctively knows when someone is about to die and the major cause of death. He can also sense the aura of death on places and objects that have seen much death or are haunted by spirits or the undead. Trial and error has shown that violent death is very hard to predict and only shown once it becomes inevitable, such as after falling off a cliff, failing to dodge a slash, or in the face of an insurmountable enemy with no escape. Constant Mana Cost: 0
Of course, I¡¯d been periodically ignoring this thing ever since we first came to the arena because there were the ghosts of the dead and the smell of old and new death laying thicker than flies in a maggoty corpse. For the first time, I began to really pay attention to it the way I did the first night when I found Ham. For an instant, it felt like I was underwater. So much death washed over me. The beasts in these pens weren¡¯t treated any better than bare survival dictated. Men were dying as we spoke just up the hallway in the arena stadium. Men reeking of killing intent were headed this way. But underneath all of this, like a vintage wine, a sediment of death so thick and solid I had been feeling it without even really feeling. Dead by the hundreds, the thousands, or more. Dead, right here, at ground zero to an apocalypse. That was the source of the death energy. My vision actually became hazy with the leftover death in the air and the number of angry animals in the pens nearly tripled with the unsettled souls of their kin unable to escape their imprisonment even now. I gazed blindly through the fog and there, like a willow-o-wisp, I saw the spirit of a woman. Her soul was faded, worn, more than transparent. Her washed out attire bespoke the fashion of another era, but it was regal. She stood in the air, oblivious to the laws of physics. When she saw me seeing her, she beckoned me forward and I followed. Dimly, I heard Myrkai¡¯s rasping gurgling cough as he and Bia¡¯Keres followed me. The queen, for so I believed her to be, descended her illusory staircase and reach the bottom in the furthest corner of the troll giant¡¯s cage. Her gestures hurried me on, even as her mouth failed to make a sound, even to my extrasensory perception. Her movements made a show of prying up a slab out of the floor. I searched around and soon found the edge of a slab of not-quite-stone. The material was pearl or ivory colored. Myrkai collapsed to the ground and cough like he would spit out organs. Bia scrabbled in the dirt and refuse of the troll¡¯s chamber to find the other edges of the slab. I went to lift it with her aid, but it was beyond my strength. For the first time, deliberately, I activated another of my powers, ¡°Manifest.¡± The queen seemed to bleed into reality, into color, like paint spilled on paper until she stood in full regal presence before us. ¡°Please, help us,¡± I asked. She glanced around, but her gaze soon found what she was seeking. With magic of a kind surely lost to the eons, she blasted away the grime and offal to reveal the slab, and a very precise distance away, she likewise cleared a durable lever, set into the floor. With surprising strength, she pulled the release and nodded to us. Together, Bia and I lifted the slab again and it opened, not easily, but clearly by design. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°In we go,¡± I ordered. The light of the guards lanterns lapped over me and I heard their cries of alarm. The sound of their feet came running this way. Myrkai more or less leaned over and fell into the hole. Bia jumped in feet first. I took one last look at the spirit. ¡°You have saved us,¡± I told her. She smiled brilliantly, then with an uttered word of power, she snapped off the lever. I jumped into the hole, the broken handle of the lever falling in after me. With a heavy thud, the slab fell shut after us, sealing us into the ruins of a dead city.
You have fled an arena battle, besmirching your honor as a Gladiator. Gladiator Title Lost.
You have survived a battle with the Gargantuan Troll Grimhaus. You have gained 500 experience points.
You have discovered Old Ak¡¯Har. You have gained 2000 experience.
You have gained a title: Blessed of the Old Royalty Her blessing goes with you.
The little blue windows popped into being before I hit the ground and marred my landing. I ended up tripping and falling on Bia, and I came to rest on a pleasant soft place. She immediately shoved me off, and I think there was a punch thrown in, but she missed in the darkness. I sat up and slowly my eyes began to acclimate to the truly stygian darkness down here. I wasn¡¯t sure why Bia wasn¡¯t using a light herself. As it stood, only the glow of the green tattoos along my forearms provided any light. My vision didn¡¯t reach beyond my two companions and the floor. The fall hadn¡¯t been bad, but Myrkai sounded absolutely awful. He was coughing almost continually. Bia looked alien in the greenish tint. ¡°We¡¯ll rest in place,¡± I said quietly, not for fear of discovery, but because this place seemed to demand the graveyard respect of whispered voices and muffled steps. ¡°Can you do anything for Myrkai?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll check, my Lord,¡± Bia replied. She crawled over to him and began working her magic. ¡°I will rest, then,¡± I said. ¡°I feel I am close to drained.¡± In fact, my vision was all sorts of wonky and I was trying to reign in Death Sense to a level that was still useful without being overwhelming. I¡¯d learn my lesson about turning it completely off, but walking through a haze of deathly energy so thick it interfered with normal sight wasn¡¯t helpful either. Perhaps I could switch it on full power for just a little while each day? Soon, I was fast asleep.
Bia¡¯Keres couldn¡¯t help but scowl as she followed her Master away from the battle. First he chooses to fight in the arena, awash in confidence. Now, only now, after paying for it with her staff, he chooses to run! She saw him glance over his shoulder and she struggled to keep up dragging Myrkai along. Troll blood, in small doses, was used for medicinal purposes, but being doused and drowned in the stuff couldn¡¯t be good for him. She scowled harder as the party reached the back of the beast pens. Every fiber of her being was urging her to say ¡°I told you so,¡± but she managed to restrain herself. ¡°Now what?¡± she asked instead, biting off the end of her words, lest she utter words unbecoming. Her master simply stared about, seemingly lost in thought. ¡°My Lord,¡± she corrected herself. ¡°What are we to do?¡± The act of calling upon him highlighted the lack of appropriate honorific during her first question. It had been lost with the suppressed vitriol of her thoughts. ¡°Teach me to meditate,¡± he suddenly demanded like some wet behind the ears youth. ¡°Now?!¡± Bia¡¯keres asked appalled. ¡°My Lord¡± she added belatedly. ¡°Meditation takes time ¨C years to master. I can¡¯t teach it to you in the next 30 seconds!¡± ¡°Then, knock me out!¡± he said. Her hands almost moved on their own and the satisfaction of punching him in the face, under orders or no, frightened her with its intensity. He passed out instantly. She wondered if she could do that anytime? There was a clear difference in martial prowess between the two of them, after all. Perhaps he didn¡¯t deserve to be her master. ¡°Bia¡¯keres,¡± Myrkai rasped. She looked to him. ¡°If worst comes to worst,¡± the blood drenched cat creature paused for a series of gurgling hacking coughs. ¡°If we¡¯re caught,¡± he continued, ¡°we should surrender. They won¡¯t be justified in killing us outright¡­ I hope.¡± ¡°Destruction of arena property and cowardice in the face of an enemy?¡± sneered Bia¡¯Keres with equal parts self loathing and resignation. ¡°They¡¯ll kill us for the crowd.¡± Myrkai made no reply. He was too caught up in his misery. Bia considered trying to help him now, but what did it really matter? It was time to wake her Master up, she decided. She tried shaking him, but that brought no result. Arguing that it was mere necessity, she slapped him, hard, across the face. ¡°Wake up.¡± Once again, hitting him was almost like a drug, it felt so good. She hadn¡¯t felt this way when they were sparring, but back then he hadn¡¯t led her to utter ruin, had he? She slapped him again and again, a little harder each time, until her palm went numb. ¡°I¡¯m awake!¡± he said, curling his arm across his face protectively. ¡°How long was I out?¡± ¡°My Lord, you were unconscious for nearly 5 minutes. The soldiers will be here momentarily,¡± she answered. She was disappointed he¡¯d woken up. ¡°They sure are taking their time,¡± he commented. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t they. We have nowhere to go,¡± she answered and there was more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. She glared at him as he proceeded to mumble under his breath and his eyes grew distant, like someone looking into another world. Then he walked purposefully to the back corner of the troll¡¯s cage, like someone under orders, and began to paw through the filth on the floor. For a moment, Bia¡¯keres thought he had legitimately lost it, until she saw him clear away the refuse from the corner of a slab. It looked like the material some of the buildings of the nobility were made of which was said to be more durable than stone or steel. It was no good, the slab could not be lifted. The torchlight of the soldiers approached ever closer. ¡°Materialize,¡± he commanded and I saw the spirit of a dead queen from a bygone era appear at his behest. With a smile on her lips and urgency in her movements, she cleared the slab and the lever that would let us lift it. We dropped into the grave with the millennial dead and the grave shut up after us. Ker¡¯haros fell on Bia¡¯keres as he landed and she shoved him away. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts. ¡°We¡¯ll rest in place,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Can you do anything for Myrkai?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll check, my Lord,¡± Bia¡¯keres answered his command. The faint green glow of his divine markings were just enough to move to Myrkai¡¯s side. She couldn¡¯t make light and heal at the same time. ¡°I will rest, then,¡± I said. ¡°I feel I am close to drained.¡± He fell almost instantly to sleep. Myrkai¡¯s condition was worrying, but she could do little but make him more comfortable. Her powers were not fine tuned enough to deal with such a unique ailment, but she managed to calm his ferocious cough and he quickly fell into exhausted sleep as well. Bia¡¯Keres sat alone in the near pitch blackness. Her gaze was continually drawn to the only thing visible. Ker¡¯Haros had fallen asleep cradling his head on his arms. The glow of his markings back lit his features in green light. His face looked strange and alien with sharp shadows that transformed it. His black skin was slightly reflective, such that he seemed to have a halo about him. What had she been thinking? She clearly recalled her feelings. She had been all but openly rebelling against her Master! Her words and actions had been defeatist and pessimistic. Was her faith in her Lord really so fragile? It really was, she suddenly realized. She was a poor servant. She put her head in her hands as tears began to run freely. The destruction of her staff was a sign. She was not worthy to be Bia¡¯Keres. She had tried, Gods she had tried, but she simply wasn¡¯t good enough. All those years of training, but the test was so different from anything she had been taught to expect. She had expected physical hardship, yes, but such strange emotions assaulted her at every turn. With horror, she remembered mere hours ago when she awoke wrapped around her master like a two bit whore throwing herself into the bed of a nobleman. She found herself on her feet, scrabbling in the darkness. She was too distraught for a moment to even focus on the simplest of powers she had struggled so long ago to master and silently she derided herself for it with infinite venom. She cleared her thoughts just enough to manifest her powers as light from her eyes, although the color refused to follow her will. She looked around only enough to find the exit. She gazed over her shoulder. Myrkai and her Master slept peacefully. She would not inflict her presence on them anymore, she decided. Dripping tears on the ancient floor, she silently walked away.
I passed rapidly into true sleep. The stresses of threatened death not only for me but for Bia and Myrkai had worn me out more mentally and emotionally than physically. I woke to the sound of Myrkai¡¯s lung purging cough and a little blue window.
You gained a level. Your maximum and current hit points will increase by 12. Your maximum and current mana will increase by 10. You have gain a +1 to strength!
Well, that was a very welcome development. I was a little irked that stumbling into this hole was worth more experience than smashing Grimhaus, but I suppose he wasn¡¯t out of the fight when we left, so perhaps that was fair. I suppose the art of door dropping wasn¡¯t something that would be likely to help me in future battles, either. ¡°How are you holding up, Myrkai,¡± I asked. Sleeping on the hard floor didn¡¯t agree with me and my body declared it loudly as I sat up. ¡°I¡¯ll live, my Lord,¡± Myrkai rasped. His throat was so raw from his constant cough, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he went completely mute soon. ¡°That¡¯s good news, my friend,¡± I said. I rose and looked round in the dim glow of my tattoos. My eyes were completely accustomed to the dim conditions, yet I could still only see a dozen feet. The darkness down here was thick with old memories and the dust of corpses. ¡°Where¡¯s Bia at?¡± Myrkai merely shook his head, resisting the urge to cough. I frowned. ¡°Perhaps she went to scout,¡± Myrkai suggested. ¡°That¡¯s not like her,¡± I argued. ¡°She would keep watch.¡± I took a deep breath and steeled myself to break the tomblike quiet of the dead city. ¡°BIA! BIA¡¯KERES!¡± My words echoed and with them I felt a surge of energy roll back to me like heat off a mirror. The voices of the long dead washed over me ¨C weeping and the clash of battle. In the distance, I thought I heard a woman¡¯s scream. ¡°Did you hear that Myrkai?¡± His struggle to rise to his feet was all the answer I needed. I helped him up the rest of the way and happened to see the two foot length of broken off lever tossed down into the hole after us. ¡°Here,¡± I said as I handed it to Myrkai. ¡°This should make a decent club. Put your arm over my shoulder and let me take your weight.¡± Myrkai¡¯s weight bothered me not at all, though I was supporting him so much his feet hardly touched the ground. My free hand stayed on my sword hilt and together we plunged into the darkness to find our missing companion. Chapter 15 - Bones of the Earth The hallways of the under city were largely intact. I supported Myrkai as I treaded ever deeper into the halls haunted by the dead. Most of the spirits remaining were so faded that they didn¡¯t even appear to my attuned senses. Rather, the faint sounds of battles long ended would drift down to my ears through the centuries and the disembodied weeping of the dead that never found solace would pierce my heart with the hint of long forgotten grief and tragedy. Many chambers opened off to either side of the corridor, but the doors were also of that strange indestructible material and thoroughly stuck. I only made a cursory attempt to open the first one before I pushed deeper in search of Bia¡¯Keres. Cracks spread crazily through the ceiling in places and I occasionally had to skirt places where the ceiling and walls and partially collapsed exposing rock and dirt beyond the nearly meter thick supernatural stone. I didn¡¯t want to consider what kind of stresses were powerful enough to shatter a material said to be stronger than steel. I faced my first serious decision as we reached a T intersection going both right and left. I visualized a simple map of the city overhead and tried to guess at the distances we were traveling. At this point, we were still under the arena plaza. Either direction was as good as the other for my purposes, but not if I wanted to find Bia. ¡°I have no skill in tracking, do you?¡± I asked Myrkai. Myrkai seemed to consider a lengthier explanation, but simply shook his head negatively as well. I searched for some sign to indicate which direction Bia had gone and a rush of relief washed over me as I recognized clear scuff marks toward the left. The heavy dust carpeting the ground held prints clear enough for even my amateur tracking attempts. I took the left fork and pushed forward with renewed hope. Perhaps we could actually catch up with Bia before anything befell her. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything living in these halls, but I wasn¡¯t sanguine about our safety here. The anger of a thousand ghosts floated through these halls like a choking smoke of ill will and unquenched hatred. As I pushed down the corridor, Myrkai¡¯s attempts to support himself grew weaker until his legs completely gave out and his arm released its hold on my should. I caught him and lowered him carefully to the ground and checked him once again. ¡°Myrkai!¡± His eyelids fluttered faintly and looked at me dimly. My death sense prophesied his eventual death within the next day from a continuously weakening constitution and biological agents. In other words, it would be a combination of exposure and troll blood that killed him. Neither one on its own would be enough to bring the cat warrior low. In fact, I sensed the influence of a supernatural agent weakening him even now. These halls steeped in death were not a healthy environment for him. I cast about for something to ease his suffering, but the dusty ruin didn¡¯t even offer two sticks to build a fire and we had entered the arena focused on surviving the battle with little concern beyond it. I didn¡¯t even have a cloak to lend him to ward off the chill. With no other choice, I picked him up. He was barely conscious enough to stay in a piggy back position and thus we proceeded deeper into the ruin with him leaning against my back wafting the acrid stench of troll blood and wet cat past my nose whenever I slowed. The corridors were often damaged, but as I moved further and further from the epicenter of the impact, the more intact things became. At the same time, Bia¡¯s trail turned only when absolutely necessary when the hallway she was following turned or dead ended. Several times I followed the same dead ends as she must have into small rooms crowded with rubble or closed doors that stayed stubbornly closed. My pursuit stretch out to hours and I could only hope that the statistical averages were on my side and I was gaining some ground by skipping some of the dead ends she fell into. Still, she must have been untold hours ahead of us. Who knew when we would catch up? I had long since lost any clear understanding of where we were except that we continued to go mostly south and west. Presumably, we were near the edge of the city by now, perhaps even beyond the walls. The corridor I was following suddenly broke out into a large hall and I slowed to a stop as a tableau of battle centuries old spread out before my eyes. The corridor I stood in overlooked a wide hall that disappeared into darkness to my left and right, but the ghosts in this hall were more tortured than any I had ever seen. Poised in mid combat through out the hall were men and women engaged in a desperate struggle for their lives that had been frozen millennia ago, yet never ended. Their forms and bodies remained locked in combat, frozen like a photographer¡¯s action shot or the sick joked of twisted sculpture. I set Myrkai down, before I stepped into the room and slowly wended my way through the statues. As I gazed into their faces, their gazes turned toward me, small shreds of their tortured souls tracking me with their eyes and no matter what expression of excitement, fear, or bloodlust had actually been frozen on their faces countless years before, I saw it warped by the purest agony. Yes, each and every one of these seemingly ivory sculptures still contained a soul. I stopped in the center of the room and gazed in every direction, imagining a time when these halls were not made of eldritch material and when its inhabitants were not dead or horrifically cursed. The walls would have been stone, perhaps marble, at one point. These warriors would have been flesh and blood. The doors would have been wooden and their slightly rusty hinges would have given way beneath a man¡¯s push, rather than locking up solid. As I contemplated, in that field of dead and petrified, but not quite still, bodies, a body moved through them towards me. My eyes disregarded the movement as the shadowy movements of a ghost or the writhing of the maddened souls within these cursed statues. By the time I realized it wasn¡¯t my imagination or a phantom, a heavy blow had already struck me and I tumbled backwards, almost knocked sprawling by the unexpected assault. ¡°This is your fault!¡± screeched my attacker. I wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth and set myself to receive another charge. I wasn¡¯t disappointed. ¡°Disappear!¡± it snarled. The green glow of my tattoos was the only light, but its eyes still glowed red. It wore a tattered robe coated in dust and its hands were continually grasping. With a snarled word it lunged forward again and when I tried to block, it grabbed my arm and jerked me forward with strength greater than my own. The other hand raked across my face, all but taking my eyes out and blood ran freely from the triple wound. I ignored the damage and accelerated in the direction of the pull, brutally slamming into it¡­ her. She stumbled back and one of the weapons of the petrified warriors pierced through her back. I took a step back as she pulled herself off the impaling weapon. It was Bia, although she was all but unrecognizable. Her face was a mask of grief and anger and her clothing had seen the worst of hours stumbling through the ruins for mile after mile. Something was inherently wrong here. She had magic, yet she hadn¡¯t used any of it in some time, nor was she attacking with it. The wound in her back didn¡¯t seem to even slow her down. As soon as she was free of the weapon, she lunged at me again. She wasn¡¯t fighting with her usual skill, but her strength was impressive, beyond impressive for a woman who massed barely half of what I did. I let her charge forward and clocked her upside the head with as much care as possible. The blow seemed to stun her for a moment and I grabbed her and pulled her into a sleeper hold, a move I had never used in earnest in my previous life, but very useful here. At first her struggles were a real challenge to contain as she thrashed in every conceivable way to try and get free but after about 30 seconds, the hold began to work its magic and she soon passed out completely. I picked her up and carried her back to Myrkai where I set her down carefully. Myrkai roused himself to make a questioning noise. ¡°She attacked me in amongst those statues,¡± I said. ¡°She seemed to blame me for something and want me gone.¡± I paused as I let that sink in, then deliberately shut my mind off that depressing train of thought. ¡°I¡¯m going to study this room some more. If I think of any brilliant ideas, I¡¯ll let you know.¡± I stepped out amongst the statues, but this time, I stopped at the first warrior I reached and looked into his eyes. The torment of being frozen in place yet conscious for an unfathomable time period look back at me. This state was a horror I couldn¡¯t allow to persist. I activated my abilities and reached into the statue¡¯s chest. Retrieving the soul was easy, evidence of willingness on the spirit¡¯s part, whether it understood what was going on or not. I moved through the room, collecting the souls of the warriors, regardless of which side of the conflict they were on. I didn¡¯t know what the sides were and they hardly mattered anymore. It was safe to say that these men were all equal in death. My journey took me down to the end of the hall where the were a pair of double doors blown off their hinges, and back around and up to the other end of the hall, where there was a throne on a raised dais over which two sculptures leaned, one fallen backwards and his sword locked with the statue above him. I retrieved their souls, leaning awkwardly around the bulky warrior to reach the slimmer man below. As my glance turned away from them, my eyes, accustomed to the absolute darkness, spotted a speck of light far beyond the ceiling. There was a hole above the throne that led out to the sky! Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Myrkai!¡± I called, still softly despite my excitement. In the profound silence of this tomb, my words were clear even though we were separated by half the length of the hall. I quickly ran back to him, waving away a blue window as I went. He was still slumped against the wall when I reached him and hadn¡¯t woken for my shout. ¡°Myrkai, I need you,¡± I said as I shook him. Myrkai woke slowly, but he was still weak. I frowned and looked at the dozing Bia¡¯Keres. I didn¡¯t know what caused her hostility before, really, and I couldn¡¯t promise it wouldn¡¯t repeat, but I couldn¡¯t get Myrkai out of that hole without her help. In fact, I could really use some light, too. If she had been thinking clearly, she likely would have defeated me in combat, but then again, being unarmed was a larger detriment for her than it was for me. I decided to bite the bullet and shook her gently awake. ¡°Bia! Bia!¡± I called. She slowly came too. As her eyes opened, there was no trace of that red glow I remembered so clearly. As she looked at my face she seemed startled and her eyes traced the lines of the deep scratches she had made across my face. She turned her gaze to the floor as she answered. ¡°Y-yes, My Lord.¡± I silently thanked which ever higher powers were meddling with my life for her apparent sanity, temporary or not. ¡°Bia, there is an exit, but I can¡¯t get Myrkai out by myself.¡± ¡°Of course, my Lord,¡± she answered. ¡°What can I do?¡± ¡°Follow me,¡± I said as I gathered up Myrkai. I led her over to the throne and pointed to the ceiling. ¡°There¡¯s a hole up there. I think I can lift you up and then you can take Myrkai from me and pull me up after.¡± ¡°I-I¡¯ll try, my Lord,¡± Bia answered. ¡°Good,¡± I nodded. I climbed up on top of the statue. The hole was almost directly above my head. Bia¡¯s eyes suddenly began to glow with a comparatively blinding light. For the first time I could clearly see our escape route. It seemed to be a chimney more than two dozen feet deep, formed by one of the ceiling stones falling and the dirt sifting out of the crack. It would be a difficult road to climb, especially with dead weight, but both of us were beyond humanly strong, currently, so it should be possible. ¡°It would be better if you can lift us both, my Lord,¡± Bia asserted. ¡°I will increase my strength, temporarily.¡± She closed her eyes for a moment and a palpable aura of strength settled over her along with a glimmer of luminescence that seemed to coat her body. When her eyes reopened, the light from before was gone, leaving us to darkness again. ¡°There, that should help, my Lord.¡± She picked up Myrkai and using strips ripped from her robe, she tied his body to her own. Then she lightly stepped up onto the statue next to me. ¡°I¡¯ll have to throw you a bit to make it,¡± I said, as I pictured dimensions of the hole from my recent memory. ¡°Ready?¡± She nodded. I formed my hands into a stirrup and lifted her until I was fully standing with my arms upraised. Bia jumped from that unsteady perch and managed to establish a chimney hold with her arms and legs in the hole. She was just about to reach a hand back for me to grab and hoist myself into the chimney with her when the walls of the dirt fill hole began to crumble beneath her hands and feet. ¡°Go! Climb!¡± I shouted, and Bia¡¯keres obeyed flawlessly as always. Her glimmering body clearly scrambled and clawed her way up the nearly vertically shaft as dirt rained down like a river past her. I heard loud crashes as first one and then half a dozen of the thick square ceiling stones around the hole collapsed and the ceiling caved in. I dived away, scrambling through the rapidly disintegrating ceiling and dodging immobile statues until I cleared that end of the hall. A dull rumble filled the air as the dirt filled in the upper end of the hall, burying the throne, the dais, and many of the statues. The dust was oppressive and for a time I didn¡¯t breath as I tried to see if Bia or Myrkai had come back down with the cave-in. I could determine nothing. My last glimpse of Bia¡¯keres had shown her moving with fantastical speed up the shaft, so I hoped that she had reached the top with Myrkai. My need, or perhaps desire, to breath finally forced me out of the hall and I stumbled out through the smashed double doors into a new corridor, far enough that not too much of what I breathed in every breath was dirt. That route to the surface was gone with no more hope of escape. I couldn¡¯t even try to dig a new hole, since fresh dirt would sift down continuously to thwart the effort. My only option was to press deeper into the ruin and hope that luck would present itself again. I settled down against the wall, alone, in the darkness, and for the first time I let my head fall into my hands. No tears escaped my eyes, but I shuddered with reaction for several minutes while largely incoherent thoughts and emotions rampaged through me. I let them run their course until they began to make some sort of sense. ¡°This is it. It¡¯s just me now,¡± I soliloquized quietly. My voice seemed to stir echoes of panic and battle from further down the tunnel. The partially buried hall was quiet, at least. I took a controlled breath and spit out the mud in my mouth. ¡°My biggest threat is probably dehydration,¡± I mused. ¡°But I¡¯ll be fine right? Undead don¡¯t die of thirst. Of course not. Undead only wish they could die of thirst.¡± On that grim note, I rose to my feet again and took stock. One Ker¡¯Haros, Chosen of Death, slightly used. One mystical assassin sword, slightly dulled. One set of trousers. I¡¯d had a shirt once. What did I do with that? Oh, that¡¯s right. The Crystarix pretty much destroyed it. Bia must have taken it off me when I wasn¡¯t looking, or I tore it off myself. Ah, right, one chest bandage, previously a shirt. That was the sum total of my belongings. Minions? Dead or missing, at least the physical ones. I think I¡¯d established that the spiritual ones were of varying usefulness. Well then, onward! I stepped forward heading down the ancient corridor. Once again the doors were stuck or blocked with rubble, but there were signs that I was approaching a less damaged area of the citadel. As I did, I occasionally would run across the petrified bodies of the ancients, occasionally simply petrified corpses, but just as often knots of soldiers in battle or civilians fleeing, still with their souls tortured by the slow sifting of years grinding their sanity away. I couldn¡¯t simply leave them here, so every time I would reach out my hand and they would gladly flow into me just for a change from their eternal frozen wakefulness. I grew thirsty. I grew hungry. At first I napped on the cold stone amid the dust, but it wasn¡¯t long before the maddening thirst drove me to my feet moving forward once again. I could find no true sleep here anyway. The dead of this place intruded on my dreams and all was awash with fire and terror and an awful eternity of painfully silent waiting. I had trouble keeping my death sense to a level where I could still see through the murk of death without turning it off completely. I lost all track of time. It was day six or ten when I stumbled to the end of a hallway and into a room different from those that went before. There were more rooms open in this area. I¡¯d noticed that with my hazy brain. I wasn¡¯t thinking much, anymore. I stopped before I left the room though as the details began to sink in. Pinned to the wall was a contoured map, the raised geography cast into sharp contrast by the faint light of my tattoos. I paused and drew near it, like a rodent attracted to a shiny trinket. It was several minutes before my brain turned over like an aging car and started translating what I was seeing into meaning. The map showed this ruined city in detail. Apparently, the city had been built on a hill, once. There were various different sections broken out. The map had no color, as it was petrified into that mystical ivory like the walls, the people, the corpses, everything down here. I pried the map off the wall, no easy feat against the nearly indestructible tacks stuck into the walls at the corners. Once I had it down, I laid it on the ground and began a careful study, mumbling to myself as I did. Seemingly endless perusal and repetition was necessary to get my brain to track, but eventually, I determined my location, at least roughly, going on the assumption that the catastrophe that cratered the city hit someplace near the center and that was where the arena was now. If that was at all correct, there should be a western wall, but more importantly, there was a western tower, a tower tall enough to reach the surface after millennia of silt and debris had raised the ground level nearly thirty feet in most places. I glanced about the room I was in blearily, and sure enough, there were books on shelves and toppled desks. There was a even a petrified ivory corpse, the librarian I presumed, blessed a millennia ago with a quick death. I pulled book after book off the shelf, but few of them opened, and of those few which did, their pages were blank ivory. It would take heavy inlay, engraved tablets, or similar tactile workmanship to be of any use. I followed my task, stopping and starting as my brain occasionally left me staring blankly in confusion, distracted by thirst. I knew I wasn¡¯t functioning on all cylinders. Eventually, I gathered the map, two expensive heavily frescoed tomes, and a fat work that looked like it was written in brail, and shoved them all under my left arm in an unwieldy bundle. Then, with frequent recourse to the map, I ventured back out into the ruins, stopping occasionally to free a soul from a petrified prison without hardly a thought. Chapter 16 - Interlude Myrkai was worried about Bia¡¯Keres. He only dimly remembered being carried to the surface amidst the collapse of the rough earthen crack. That had been more than a week ago. Since then, Bia¡¯Keres had applied herself to strengthen him with her powers. Her nearly constant care had eventually turned the tables on his bizarre malady and the coughing fits and suffering cleared up. After that, his recovery was extremely fast and he even felt better than ever. He could only imagine what effects bathing in troll blood could offer, but since it didn¡¯t kill him, it had apparently made him stronger. All of that was in the past now. While he was sick, Bia¡¯Keres has been attentive enough, although she spoke only as necessary. Since then, she simply sat in meditation before the collapsed crack into the earth. The place they came out was actually rather nice. I seemed to be a low place in the hills west of Ak¡¯Har. A grove of trees and bushes created a secluded hollow that hid them well from the outside world. There had even been a supply of nuts, berries, and small woodland creatures to feed them. Along with rainwater and Bia¡¯s magic, it had been the perfect place for them to recuperate and prepare before moving on. Bia¡¯Keres hadn¡¯t moved except to eat sparingly and drink water in the last 48 hours. Myrkai wasn¡¯t an expert on the workings of the mind, but he was familiar enough with survivors guilt and denial to guess at what was eating her. Afterall, it seemed pretty clear that Ker¡¯Haros was dead. The resources of the little grove were quickly waning. They couldn¡¯t stay here any longer. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres,¡± he said. She responded by looking at him. ¡°We need to get going. This place won¡¯t support us much longer and we¡¯ve been low on water for a while.¡±
An entire week had passed for Bia¡¯Keres, but she lived in a single moment to the echo of her master¡¯s voice urging her to climb while the earth buried him. Oddly enough, her distracted mind found it easier to manifest her powers, since it was remarkably uncluttered with emotions or thoughts. Her master had ordered her to aid Myrkai as she could, so she bolstered his health, maintaining the effect for hours on end until she had to sleep. She also repaired damage to his body wherever she could. In the end, Myrkai survived, and her last orders from her master were completed. All she had to do now was wait for the next order. Waiting gave her more time to remember, and she replayed the events of the past from the moment she greeted her master to the instant he disappear behind a flood loose earth. She counted every failure. By her reckoning, she had hindered him nearly as much as she had helped. Now, he was beyond her reach, but for the first time, she began to truly believe in him. He had seen them out of an impossible situation to safety, through his own power, and this despite her outright rebellion. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres,¡± Myrkai said. Was he still here? Bia¡¯Keres thought. ¡°We need to get going,¡± Myrkai cajoled. ¡°This place won¡¯t support us much longer and we¡¯ve been low on water for a while.¡± Bia¡¯Keres frowned. This was where her master was last. ¡°I will wait,¡± she answered. Myrkai frowned. ¡°Bia,¡± he said, using the name her master favored. ¡°He¡¯s probably dead.¡± Bia¡¯Keres felt the hot glow of anger licking at the edges of her sanity. ¡°No. He¡¯s fine. He¡¯s just a little behind.¡± ¡°Bia-¡° ¡°Don¡¯t call me that!¡± Myrkai swallowed and Bia¡¯Keres realized she was on her feet with her hands raised aggressively. ¡°Bia¡¯Keres, it¡¯s been more than a week. It¡¯s been almost two weeks. What has he been eating? What has he been drinking? Even if he survived the cave-in, how could he be alive now?¡± Bia¡¯Keres snapped and went for his throat with her fingers spread like claws, but Myrkai was a trained warrior and more than skilled enough to teach her a few things. He caught her attack and put her on the ground so fast she couldn¡¯t track the movement in between. ¡°Fine,¡± spit Myrkai. His cat ancestry truly showed in his anger. ¡°Wallow in your insanity. You saved my life in spite of everything else you¡¯ve done, so I tried. May fortune favor you and the God of fools, drunkards, and madmen watch over you.¡± Bia¡¯Keres could only lay stunned, waiting for the wind to creep back into her lungs as Myrkai disappeared, traveling at a fast four legged lope like only the Bast could do. When she finally sat up, she was alone, again. Completely alone at the grave of her master. Again. She sat up and began to meditate again, but it was all broken. Her mind was a chaos of images and her tears ran freely and dripped downward to water the ground. Many hours later, Bia¡¯Keres limped away leaning on a new staff cut from the grove. She was healthy in her body, but broken with guilt and recrimination in her soul. At her back was a carefully prepared wooden marker that read: Ker¡¯Haros Chosen of Death Rest in Peace
Myrkai headed north toward Denshol. He wasn''t certain of his current freedom if he stayed near Ak''Har and certainly his distinctive race and coloration would see him recognized immediately if he tried to stay anywhere in the city''s environs. Despite his thrice damned brilliantly white fur, he managed to evade the gazes of the common folk over the next two weeks as he headed towards Denshol. The training of his youth stood him in good stead, although these lands were so rich and plentiful that one could almost fall over and find something edible to eat. He focused while he traveled to stay out of sight and avoid the stray gleams of sunlight that would light up his fur like a mirror in the sun, even in its current filthy state. That wasn''t the case when he stopped to rest, however. He stopped after full dark when his vision could no longer see far enough to prevent ambush and dug into a thick bower of bushes and branches. Once he was comfortable, he found himself gazing at the few stars he could see through the interwoven branches and leaves and thinking back across the last months of his life. Certainly, being captured as a slave had been an eye opening experience. Among the Bast there were slaves, but the Helots were considered less than sentient and basically on the same level as animals. Some treated their Helots like a favorite dog. Others treated their Helots like farm animals, including taking one to butcher on occasion. In fact, Myrkai could remember on several occasions at his family''s parties when Helot was on the menu. Captured, beaten, starved, and ordered, Myrkai''s thoughts on the subject of slavery had undergone a total reversal. If not for his unique coloration and possible value when put on display, he was sure that his experience could have been worse. Certainly he was mistreated, but he was never whipped or beaten to excess for fear that his body would become permanently marred. If he was disfigured any value he would have once he was obedient would be lost. So, he passed from hand to hand until Anger got a hold of him. Anger saw his potential not as a beautiful and exotic pet, but as a fearsome predator. Anger attached the enchanted leash to the slave collar and Myrkai fell under a magical compulsion to never harm his master and obey his orders. Certainly, all slave collars restricted the slave from harming his captors, but there were loopholes and Myrkai had managed to find most of them. Notably, collars, except for the prohibitively expensive ones, couldn''t prevent a slave from harming its masters while also preventing the slave from running. Naturally, slavers chose the first option and trusted in security for the second. After all, a creature that can''t fight back isn''t terribly difficult to keep track of, usually. Myrkai exploited that loophole as well. Anger''s leash was designed to be indestructible against normal weapons and force the slave to respond to commands. It was a handy shortcut to properly training one and could even help along the process. Myrkai was just as surprised as Anger when Ker''Haros effortlessly sliced through the leash and felt the magical backlash destroy the collar''s enchantment. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Despite his outward rebellion, the fire to resist was guttering in Myrkai''s heart. After months of slavery never getting to sleep enough or eat enough, shivering at night because his body had no energy to make warmth and struggling throughout the day to make himself the most miserable and uncooperative slave without getting himself summarily executed, Myrkai had begun to consider that maybe the life of a cooperative slave wouldn''t be that bad. Especially, in the few weeks since Anger put that leash on him, his will to resist had been slowly fading away. Even when he wanted to resist an order or subvert it in some way, the magic of leash wouldn''t allow it. Even if he wanted to rebel, the difference between a leashed and tame Myrkai and a leashed and rebellious Myrkai was pretty much academic. Then, suddenly he was no longer a slave. Myrkai sighed to himself and admitted that all this self reflection, aside from keeping him awake, was just a delay of the inevitable. In the short couple of days since he swore his oath to Ker''Haros, he had fought in a more desperate battle than ever before in his life, escaped slavery and the city of Ak''Har and slipped to the brink of death and back. Several divine messages had gone by without a chance to read them and these things were bound to have had some effect on his status. Despite the pain of his time as a slave, it was easily dealt with, but his exile from home was an ever present agony that he continuously ignored. His status screen tended to point it out with unfeeling rationality, so he typically avoided using it. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. "Enough delays" Myrkai whispered to himself, "Status."
STATUS
Name Myrkai
Caste Exile
Race Albino Shadowed Bast Class Fighter
Rank Warrior Morality Oathsworn
State Healthy Reputation 60
Strength Above Average Toughness Above Excellent
Smarts Average Wisdom Above Average
Presence Above Average Agility Excellent
Myrkai is known as the Dead Warrior, exiled from his home, and treated as dead by all who knew him among the Bast. Although his skills are impressive, his coloration drove his kin from him and has dictated the course of his life ever since his birth. After his exile he fell into slavery and was briefly a Gladiator in Ak''Har. He was freed by Ker''Haros and became oathsworn to the Chosen of Death. He is now twice an exile as he is unwelcome in Ak''Har.
His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the changes. First, and most expected, his rank had risen from common fighter to warrior, something he wasn''t even sure was possible outside of a caste. Second, his toughness had changed, increasing from above average to above excellent, meaning he likely exceeded the natural limit from his race. That could only be due to the troll blood he was drenched in. His reputation had risen sharply, as well, which could only be the result of his arena battles and association with Ker''Haros. None of that drew his attention as much as when it mentioned "Chosen of Death". He understood the strength of his oath, and it was no surprise that he remained oathsworn after the death of his liege, but he had never imagined that Ker''Haros was a Chosen. Suddenly, that exotic power started to make sense. Likewise, it explained what Bia''Keres was doing there. Myrkai didn''t speak any of the ancient tongue, it was a dead language afterall, but the names Ker''Haros and Bia''Keres had obvious similarities. She was probably his assigned servant, however that worked for the Chosen of Death. Myrkai couldn''t help a low chuckle. The Dead Warrior had claimed the Chosen of Death as his liege. This must be fate or the humor of the Gods. Having faced his status and not suffered Myrkai continued with the other simple magics. "Skills" he stated.
Kaisukren
You are a five stripe practitioner of Kaisukren with an expert knowledge of armed and unarmed combat including strikes, throws, feints, and pounces.
Ilshef
You struggled twice as hard to master the use of light armor in the hopes of equaling your peers and evading their blows. You are a master of the art of Ilshef and specifically favor a fully body armor of leather. In full armor tailored to you, you can evade or blunt most hits and take advantage of your skill in stealth.
Shadowed
You have all the skills of the Shadowed cast. You can track, ambush, move in stealth, and live off the land extremely well.
Those were the same as they had been for years, and he felt no need to look at them more closely, dismissing the message after a cursory glance. "Titles" he said.
Dead Warrior
You were called the Dead Warrior and claimed the title as your name. In your extremity, you fight with no fear and no reaction to pain, allowing you to achieve previously unreachable levels of martial skill and suppress negative emotions so that they do not distract you.
First of Death''s Chosen
You were first in this world to recognize the Chosen of Death and swore yourself to his service. Your soul is tied to his and he can reach you through this bond. It also grants you some small access to the Chosen of Death''s power. As the Chosen of Death grows in power, the amount you can draw grows.
Myrkai skipped the entry for Dead Warrior, as he was well aware of its affects. Instead, he read and reread First of Death''s Chosen. He shook his head as he read it, confused. Clearly, Bia''Keres had been there from the first, yet he was the first to recognize the Chosen of Death? The divine messages never lied, although they could be unclear. Obviously, since the Chosen had perished, there was no opportunity to see what effects this title would have. He did wonder if he would see Ker''Haros again in the afterlife, but that was an experiment he would have to put off indefinitely. Finally, the messages Myrkai disliked the most. After a moment of inner conflict, he whispered the word, "Traits."
Albino
Your fur is pure white and your eyes are pink. You lack all normal pigment and are susceptible to sun exposure. Your coloration is inherently unsuited to stealth and makes it very hard to successfully avoid notice.
Bast
As a full grown Bast, you are armed with two and a half inch serrated claws on all your limbs, three inch canine teeth, and the ability to run roughly 50% faster on all fours than two feet. You also have heightened senses of hearing and smell compared to other humanoids.
Troll Blooded
At once bathing in and ingesting large amounts of troll blood has had a permanent effect on your body. You have some of the resilience of a troll and can regenerate rapidly from damage.
He was rewarded for his trouble by the addition of a new trait. He was certain this trait was announced by divine message during his delirium, so this was the first time he had the chance to read it clearly. Certainly, it was no bad thing, although bathing in troll blood was probably just as likely to kill a creature or do nothing at all. He was grateful that he got something out of the ordeal. After focusing briefly on Troll Blooded, he closed the message and strove to ignore the ever present reminders of his past. Instead, he found himself thinking about his oath. He was still Oathsworn to Ker''Haros, despite the fact that his liege had died, and so he should strive to fulfill his oath. Ker''Haros hadn''t had time to give any last will and sadly, he had known his liege for a time that could practically be measured in hours, rather than days. Still, some characteristics of his personality jumped unbidden to Myrkai''s mind. Ker''Haros had seen the etiquette shown by Bia''Keres and Myrkai as tiresome for one. He never forced or even wanted his servants to stand or properly wait upon him. Finally, his last order had been for Bia''Keres to escape and care for Myrkai, or so she had muttered on several occasions while tending him. Clearly, she was taking Ker''Haros death hard and the very underpinnings of her reality seemed to have been shaken for some reason. Myrkai growled in exasperation. He didn''t even like the woman. She reeked of madness and clearly she was a hair''s breadth from turning psychotic at any moment, but those are all the more reason why he should be taking care of her, rather than ignoring his duties to his liege and his fellow servant and haring off to Denshol. Strangely, his past exile didn''t occupy any more of his thoughts that night as he resolved to return the way he came to save Bia''Keres from herself. Chapter 17 - Walk Back Bia traveled North in a haze. She dimly noticed the walls of Akhar passing on her right and once the babble of people as she passed the western gate of the city. Long after dark, she dived into the shadows of the Old Wood and scrambled through the foreboding gloom. Strange roars and the groan of the trees drifted through the woods. It all passed unnoticed. Her focus was entirely consumed with the turmoil inside her mind. She slept when she could no longer rise and ate what she could find while walking - meager sustenance in her fugue state. All the while, the words of Myrkai whispered in the back of her head, He''s dead¡­ While her mind tried to reason away the death of her master, her feet led her back to the beginning down the same trails she took to reach Akhar so recently and yet a lifetime ago. The trees of the northern wood bore silent witness to her quiet mumbling and occasional outburst. At the end of every denial and every self told lie, the facts of the situation would rear their ugly heads and to the echo of Myrkai''s words, He''s dead. Each time, her already battered fist slammed into yet another tree leaving a bloody mark. The journey back to her village was almost 150 miles as the crow flies, but the winding trails of the forest added nearly half that to the journey. Bia''s erratic path lengthened the journey even further with frequent stops and back tracking, yet her driving pace still managed to shorten the time. The journey which had taken the better part of two weeks when she first traveled to Akhar only required ten days for her to return back to the beginning to the grave of her master in the village of Tol''Sholen. She knelt in front of his grave and touched her forehead to ground. "Master, I have failed," she whispered. As she rested, her mind drifted off between awake and nightmare, a cacophony of voices yelling at her. He''s dead. Go! Climb! My Master. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! Her mind slipped into dreams where she by turns obeyed and fought her master and her old master. She killed him in some dreams or left him to die again. In other dreams, he punished her for her faithlessness and killed her in turn. Sometimes, she dreamed of dying. In her moments of lucidness, she realized she was dying of exposure and privation and it seemed just.
Myrkai had no idea it was so hard to track a crazy person. The Old Wood made him nervous and he tried to keep a low profile as he followed her path. Most of the time, she blazed an obvious trail straight through mud, brambles, and underbrush. Quite often Bia''Keres left bloody fist indents on the nearby trees like macabre trail markers. On the other hand, she would randomly backtrack, confusing the trail, or change direction contrary to logic or good sense. Worse, she would occasionally push through some really terrible terrain that he, in his sanity, didn''t want to plunge into wildly. After five days of travel, he felt he was actually catching up. That day, he went to cut ahead of her, avoiding some nasty brambles and rock scree, only to find that she hadn''t come through to the other side of the terrain. At first, he thought he''d finally gotten ahead of her so he waited before canvassing the area anew. It wasn''t until he admitted his mistake and tracked her path step by step into the heart of the thorns that he found out her path turned and broke out across a stream. It was so effective for losing him, he had to wonder if she did it on purpose. After that, making up the lost time was hard. The woman traveled like a being possessed. He could tell she was living a fairy''s diet of sunshine and dew, although she occasionally picked the most obvious of edible plants. His diet suffered just trying to keep up with her. She was traveling upwards of 20 hours a day and collapsing in place for a mere handful of hours before pushing forward again at the same berserk pace. Even though her travel wasn''t the most efficient, he had a terrible time making up the distance. Initially, he had been about two days behind. After his gaffe tracking her through the briar, he had almost four days of travel to make up. So it was no surprise that he didn''t catch up to her until she stopped. Myrkai trudged out of the deep woods late on the twelfth day of the hardest travel of his life. The Old Wood behind him seemed happy to be rid of him and the shadows folded down almost like closing gates. Before him, a shallow dell sloped down to a back drop of sharp cliffs. The Continental Divide rose into the misty evening with no visible end. A handful of farmers fields and several thatched cottages represented the whole of this tiny settlement and Bia''Keres'' footsteps led down the center street of the village. "Excuse me, good farmer," Myrkai called out to a nearby farmer working in his field. The man glanced up just long enough to expose his toil hardened face before bending back to his task. "Excuse me," Myrkai repeated as he walked out into the field. The farmer seemed to realize he couldn''t simply ignore Myrkai and raised his gaze. He leaned on his hoe while giving a grudging nod of recognition. Myrkai performed a careful smile without exposing his fangs. "What is this village called?" "Tol''Sholen," the farmer replied in a thickly accented voice. "Tol''Sholen," Myrkai repeated not sure he''d heard correctly. The farmer merely gazed at him impassively. "Have you seen a young woman pass through here?" The farmer gave a grunt that could have meant anything but inclined his head deeper into the village in the direction Myrkai expected the trail to lead. Seeing that the conversation wasn''t going very far, Myrkai once again gave a close lipped smile. "Thank you," he told the farmer before continuing on his way. As Myrkai walked through the village he was met with a combination of curiosity and fear. This village was far from the beaten track and evidently self sufficient. The villagers peeked at him while pretending to keep up their tasks and a posse of small village children ranging in age from three to ten followed him through the village proper at a safe distance. Their whispers reached his keen hearing as they wondered what he was, where he was from, and why he was here. The stopped following him however as he left the far edge of the village and began to descend into a wide mouth cave. Grass and moss blended together as he followed Bia''Keres'' trail and the ever descending slope of the land until the immense stone of the cliff face above became a sloping roof that followed the contour of the ground downward. The cave was wide and shallow, so even the deepest part saw the light of day in the early morning, although it was very dark now. Myrkai''s keen eyes picked a path downward and found a small fenced off graveyard with all the dead of the village from the time of its inception, perhaps two dozen souls. Each burial plot was part grave and part cairn with a simple stone engraved with the name and years of the person buried there. At first, Myrkai thought he''d missed Bia''Keres somehow. The trail continued no further, yet he didn''t immediately see her. It was only after he entered the cemetery and followed her trail almost to her feet that he saw her covered in her dark robe, curled over her knees before a grave slightly separate from the others. "Bia''Keres," Myrkai called, but there was no response. He crouched next to her and felt her hands, but they were cold to the touch. Her brow was feverish and clammy while her body was so thin as to be almost transparent. Swiftly, he picked her up and carried back to the village. He went to the first hut he reached and banged on the door. "Let me in, this woman is sick and needs care!" There was no response. This repeated as he banged on almost all the doors of the village. Finally, at the edge of the village off the beaten track, the door opened to his cries and knocking. A small bent old woman with white hair resembling a bird¡¯s nest gestured him to lay Bia''Keres on a bed. The inside of the cottage was warm and thick with the smell of spices and herbs hung to dry from the ceiling.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "Ah, poor Nedorit again," mumbled the old woman. "You, cat, shoo. There is only one bed and you are not sick." Myrkai hesitated, but the old woman gently pushed him out the door. "I will see she doesn''t die. See that you don''t either," she said, once again shooing him on his way in a kindly manner. So, in the late evening, Myrkai returned to the edge of the wood and set up camp, outside the bounds of the little village.
A week passed. The kindly old woman was called Bana, or Grandma Bana to the locals, and served the role of ambassador to the outside world, herbalist, and healer. Myrkai learned her name when next he came bearing gifts of wild game for the stew pot. The hunting in this part of the Old Wood was excellent, likely because this was practically the furthest place from civilization one could find. Whenever Myrkai had a successful hunt, he would visit the old woman''s hut to share the meat and check on Bia''Keres'' condition. In the mean time, he learned from Bana some of the circumstances of Bia¡¯Keres youth. Bia was raised here, the child of an unwanted pregnancy, by another village outcast, a strange old man called Astepta. Her youth apparently consisted of training and indoctrination of some kind. The villagers were mostly grateful that someone was taking care of the child formerly known as Nedorit, literally Unwanted in a local dialect. Astepta had died some time ago and Bia had left the village on some sort of holy quest. Myrkai couldn¡¯t find out anything else of value. Aside from speaking to Grandma Bana, Myrkai used the time to set up a permanent camp. After all this time, he still had the length of lever made from True Pearl. It made an effective club, but more importantly it would chip and shatter any weapon that met it in battle. In his downtime, he fashioned a comfortable leather grip for it and a good leather loop to hang it from his belt. For the first week, everything seemed to be going well. The old woman, who never volunteered her name, spoon fed Bia''Keres and controlled her fever with herbs. Bia''Keres wasn''t severely sick so much as she was starving and malnourished. Under the old woman''s ministrations, she had rapidly improved. This afternoon, however, things were different. As Myrkai approached the small cottage with a brace of hares, he heard the sounds of breaking pottery against the inside of the door. Tentatively, he knocked and the little old woman answered the door with soup in her hair and dumped down her shoulder. "Is she awake?" Myrkai asked. "You could say that," the old woman deadpanned. She took the hares from him and let him inside, he saw Bia''Keres on the bed, turned away from the room. The interior of the cottage was dim, but he could see her white shoulder peaking out above the covers. "Bia''Keres?" he called. She pulled the cover up to hide herself further. He sighed quietly. "I was afraid of this." The old woman leaned and spoke quietly for Myrkai''s ears only. "Now that she''s conscious, she''s refusing to eat. Up till now, I thought she was breaking my dishes because of delirium. Now it seems she''s been eating from delirium and breaking them in her right mind." "I''ll see if I can do anything," Myrkai said without much confidence. Myrkai entered the cottage and sat on the edge of the tiny cot. Bia''Keres glanced his way and her eyes flashed angrily for a moment before she turned back to the wall. Myrkai organized his thoughts as he attempted to broach the issue as obliquely as possible. "Have you ever heard the tale of the Final Hunt?¡± Bia¡¯Keres predictably gave no response. ¡°When I was a kitten, I remember a hunting party that never came back. They were lost, every Bast of them,¡± Myrkai recalled. ¡°Of course, I barely knew them, but the thought of death frightened and intrigued me. Already, I was being labeled dead this and dead that, due to my coloring.¡± Myrkai glanced at Bia and caught a flash of blue eyes. ¡°The elders told us the story of the Final Hunt.¡± Myrkai hummed in his throat as he tried to establish the cadence used by the old taletellers. He was no bard, but this was a story deserving of whatever skill he could grasp. For every Bast the final gasp arrives And takes thy path to Mora then To hunt across the endless plains of Mora. And good thou wert in life and hunt Thy path shall lead to Immerens Or hunt across the endless plains of Mora. If ill thy path in life and hunt Then down you fall to Rebus depths Or hunt across the endless plains of Mora. But none shall pass nor quick nor strong Until the bitter Lethe bless The hunt across the endless plains of Mora. Then after ages lost and dark Thy soul shall rise to Immerens and end the hunt across the plains of Mora Myrkai cleared his throat after the verse. ¡°The elders always taught that this life is neither the beginning nor the end of the journey. Rather, life is an eternal cycle through birth to death across Mora until you are washed of your previous life in the great river Lethe and rise to Immerens to be born anew. There is more to the lay, of course, but I remember that bit to remind me that death is but a path to new beginnings. Perhaps, in another life, as they say?¡±
Myrkai was back and he was babbling again, Bia noted. She¡¯d thought herself rid of the cat when he pronounced his sentence upon her master, yet here he was again. She listened to him droning on, badly, about the afterlife, referencing the plains of Mora. What he was saying did align with the teachings of her master, her first master, regarding the afterlife. No one reached the end quickly. It was a debate of scholars whether travels across Mora spent decades, centuries, or millennia in transit, but with no volunteers to go count paces in the afterlife, no one would ever see the end of that debate. Decades! Bia suddenly latched onto that thought. Her master was dead, perhaps, but certainly still wandering the plains of Mora. More than a few legends alleged of ways to retrieve a soul from Mora and return it to the mortal realm. She knew of one that was more than merely legend. ¡°Perhaps, in another life, as they say?¡± Myrkai babbled. Bia grasped at those words. Bia coughed, clearing a throat used too much for grief and gasping. ¡°What if he didn¡¯t have to stay dead?¡± She rasped. ¡°What?¡± Myrkai asked blankly. ¡°We can bring him back!¡± Bia felt new strength flooding through her limbs at the thought. Mere death wasn¡¯t proper atonement. She had to make right what she had broken. She would raise him up from the dead and certainly then, she would be a worthy servant. She began to struggle to get out of the cot. ¡°Wait, how?¡± Myrkai easily pushed her back into bed, but he appeared to be listening. Bia suddenly recalled that he too was a follower of Ker¡¯Haros. What¡¯s more, his help could be valuable. ¡°The Wailing Tome, have you heard of it?¡± Bia confided hoarsely. ¡°I seem to remember it was a tool of necromancers and worse,¡± Myrkai hedged. Bia waved away his concerns animatedly, ¡°In the hands of fools, perhaps. Ker¡¯Haros is its rightful master, too.¡± ¡°Too?¡± ¡°Like us, we are both followers of the Chosen of Death! Together, we can go get it and-¡° Bia struggled to get up. She would leave right now and wash away her sins. Her atonement would be like she had never done any wrong. ¡°Wait, hold on,¡± Myrkai argued, easily keeping her weakened form prone in the cot. ¡°You¡¯re in no condition to travel across the countryside. This will be dangerous, right?¡± Bia paused in her efforts, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. ¡°Yes,¡± she admitted. ¡°I, perhaps, I am not quite up to exploring a crypt.¡± She realized her current position, struggling with all her strength to rise in bed and being held in place easily by a single arm of the cat warrior. No, this would not do. She could not show her lord such an embarrassing sight were she to raise him from the dead.
Myrkai left the cottage severely conflicted. Bia¡¯Keres mania was still as bad as ever, but at least she had latched onto a reason for living. Her intent to die in front of Astepta¡¯s grave had been clear. If Myrkai hadn¡¯t shown up, she probably would have succeeded, given the general helpfulness of the villagers here. The new plan didn¡¯t fill him with optimism, however. He sighed and resolved to keep doing what he could. When her body was healthier, it would be time enough for her mind to heal, hopefully. In any case, Bia had agreed to rest and recuperate for a few weeks before they set out for the location of the Wailing Tome. She hadn¡¯t mentioned exactly where it was and Myrkai half hoped it was because she didn¡¯t know where it was located. The longer it took to find it, the longer he could put off making a final decision as to whether his fealty to Ker¡¯Haros included plundering necromantic tomes from crypts and defying the forces of life and death.