Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)

[talien]

“This,” Torric opened the door, “is the common room.”

The stench of human sweat erupted from the chamber the moment the wooden door swung open. Soft groans and muted sobbing echoed throughout the area. The ambient light from the hallway poured into the windowless room, revealing thin beaded mats serving as beds for the three-dozen people.

Their faces were etched with despair and hopelessness. It was the hopeless gaze of those who had lost everything, including the fire to face the challenges fate had lain before them.

Just inside the door was an Ansharan, who stopped intoning his prayers at the interruption.

”This is Hurrold,” said Torric.

“Please, come in and close the door behind you,” said Hurrold.

Sebastian took a step backwards. “I’ll sleep upstairs, thanks.”

Before they could react, Torric closed the door, leaving Beldin and Vlad in the room with Hurrold.

“This chamber houses those pilgrims who do not have the funds necessary to pay for the better accommodations in the dormitories on the second floor nor the money to get back home,” said Hurrold. “These are truly the poorest and most destitute of Onara. We feed them and give them a place to sleep for free, but we do not have the wealth to do much more than that and to pray for their souls.”

A thin man, unshaved and unwashed, cradling a small child, came forward to speak with Vlad.

“I beg your pardon, noble sir. My name is Jozeph, a freeman from Milandir and one of the faithful of our Mother Church. As is written in our holy books, I have taken my family and set off on a pilgrimage to the First City. Our caravan, full of pilgrims from various parts of Milandir and even Ulfia, were beset by bandits as we were traveling across the plains of Dagha. Most of my fellows were slain. My family and I would have been killed too, had it not been for the Soldier-Saints of Dagha. They arrived and killed or chased off the bandits. In their kindness they treated the wounded and escorted us here to convalesce with the Ansharans.”

Vlad watched Jozeph apprehensively. The child reached out for him and grabbed one of Vlad’s fingers.

“Though we are very grateful to the monks and priests of the Suffering Goddess for their kindness these past two months, we are desperate to get home. I am not a rich man, but I do own a small shop where I sell my wares. I am a cobbler by profession and would gladly repay you in services or wares if you were to visit my store in Luchek. “

“That is not necessary,” said Vlad.

“I only ask for enough money to purchase a horse for my wife and child to ride and for some food for the trek.”

Vlad hesitated.

“Please kind sir, I beg of you. I don’t know how much longer we can stand to be in this place of misery and sorrow!”

“How much do you need?” asked Vlad.

“One hundred imperials.”

“Done!” Vlad handed him a coin purse from his belt. “Anything for a fellow Milandisian.”

A great cry of hope and despair went up from the room as Vlad handed over the gold. People mobbed them both with every sob story imaginable.

“My son is suffering from a strange disease!” shouted one.

“My grandmother will not last another night here!” shouted another.

“My father lost his arm to a troll!” shouted a third.

Vlad backed towards the door. “I…can’t help them all!”

Beldin cupped his hands to his face. “ENOUGH!”

They all quieted down, terrified.

“I am not without mercy. All your accounts will be settled. Be at peace and sleep well tonight, for it will be the last night here.”

Hurrold looked askance at the dwarf. “That’s over five thousand imperials!”

Beldin sniffed. “A pittance, for a dwarf.” He handed Hurrold a note for five thousand imperials. “Clean them up, get them out of here.”

“You truly a noble giant.” Hurrold bowed deeply before Beldin. “I am humbled by your charity.”

People began weeping and thanking Beldin, offering to wash his boots, braid his beard, polish his weapons. They had to leave the room.

“That’s an awful lot of gold,” said Vlad in disbelief. “Why did you do that?”

Beldin grunted. “There was a time when my race were the guardians of humanity. My clan has been so caught up with freeing ourselves from the Curse that we sometimes lose sight of why we were trapped in our dwarven bodies in the first place. Besides,” he adjusted his belt, “I have the change to spare.”

Vlad shook his head in disbelief as he followed the dwarf to the dormitories.

[talien]

As they made their way around the Inner Ring of the Shrine, they came to a stone staircase leading upwards. At the base of the staircase, curled up in a fetal position, was a member of the Black Talon egg clutch.

“Calactyte?” asked Sebastian in surprise. “Is that you?”

The ss’ressen was shivering uncontrollably, its eyes rolled up into its skull.

A figure, hidden in the shadow of the staircase commented in a voice devoid of any emotion, “I have been watching the beast for the better part of the evening wondering if I should kill it put it out of its misery or let the cold do my work for me.”

Descending from the shadows, the speaker revealed herself to be an attractive elorii female. She wore little, with spiked shoulder guards, bracers, and knee-length black boots. Her long ponytail swished behind her, dyed purple and black. Her skin was a dusky gray.

She continued to speak as she walked towards Sebastian. “The atrocities committed by its kind upon my people though the ages are not easily forgotten. I have been pondering on whether the sins of a race should be borne by all its members or if the past should remain in the past.”

“You must be Ilovios. I understand that elorii have long memories. But you cannot punish one ss’ressen for the sins of an entire race. It will change nothing.”

“It will be one more elorii soul avenged.” Ilovios inserted herself between Calactyte’s shivering body and Sebastian. “And unlike your fleeting, mongrel race, one elorii soul is worth a thousand ss’ressen.”

“If you felt that way, you would have killed him outright.”

Ilovios jut out her chin. “The natural laws will decide whether it lives or dies.”

“Then who is to say that I’m not part of the natural laws? Perhaps I was fated to come here. I know this ss’ressen. His name is Calactyte. He has protected human and elorii alike. It would be a grave injustice to let him die here.”

“Then it will be a pity when he dies.” Ilovios smirked.

“Yes, it would.” Sebastian raised his hands, palms open. “But a watched pot never boils. Medicates privates.”

With lightning speed, Ilovios drew a dagger from her belt. But she looked at it curiously, as if she wasn’t sure why it was in her hand.

“Why don’t you have something to eat and leave the ss’ressen to his fate.”

Ilovios snorted at Sebastian. “Lucky for you, half-human, I’m going to have something to eat. Don’t touch that thing; leave the ss’ressen to his fate.” She shoved past him.

Sebastian let the breath out he had been holding. He rushed to Calactyte’s side and threw a robe over him. Beldin and Vlad joined him.

“What happened?”

“Just dealing with cold hearts,” said Sebastian. “Let’s get him upstairs to a fireplace where it’s warm.”

[talien]

True to his word, Torric was up at the crack of dawn, ready to guide them to Quintus’ last known campsite.

“We will take care of Calactyte. He is still unconscious; it will take days for him to recover. It is not safe for him to travel until the worst of the storm passes.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian. “I know you will treat him with as much kindness as you’ve treated us.”

Outside, a cold wind blew unmercifully and seemed to cut directly through outer clothing. Of the red snow, only a crimson, oily smear remained, giving the cracked and blackened landscape the appearance of a seeping wound.

“Why is that snow red, anyway?” asked Vlad.

“During the final days of the God’s War, a group of Kelekene elorii were caught outside of the protection of the Vastwoods by a legion of the First Imperium, called the Legion of the Storm Lord,” lectured Ilmarė. “Before this legion could attack, another legion appeared and demanded that the elorii be offered safe passage to the Vastwoods. This legion was called the Pride of Chendo. Their general argued with his counterpart but could not dissuade them from wishing to put all the elorii to the sword. That night, the Pride of Chendo attacked and decimated the Legion of the Storm Lord, forcing their retreat from the battlefield. The wounded Chendo general returned to the elorii and told them that they were free to enter the Vastwoods. But the Storm Lord had his revenge. The Kelekene, trapped by the Storm Lord’s troops, enacted the Kurenthe…the death curse. It devastated the area. Thus the Red Snow.”

Torric was unmerciful in his trek, setting a pace few could keep up with.

“Can’t we rest for a bit?” gasped Vlad.

“The weeping mother teaches us that a little hardship is good for the soul,” jeered Torric. “She strengthens us for the inevitable difficulty ahead.”

The day passed uneventfully and they made camp in a crag that protected them from the worst of the weather.

By the following midday, they reached the hillock that served as Quintus’ campsite. It did not take a seasoned veteran or acute perceptions to tell that a pitched and brutal battle took place here recently.

They wandered throughout the camp, searching for clues as to what happened.

“A raid,” said Beldin.

“Worse,” said Sebastian. “No bodies or survivors remain from either the attacking force or from the scholar’s expedition.”

Ilmarė held up some blood-spattered notes. “There are coins from the last dynasty of the First Imperium here, as well as the corpse of an ancient goblin. The notes indicate that this goblin was found by Quintus frozen in a ravine holding the bag of coins along with a symbol he identified as belonging to a centurion in the Pride of Chendo.”

“The amount of blood that dots the layer of snow in the campsite indicates that some people were killed and gutted,” said Vlad.

“Voei,” said Torric.

“What?” asked Beldin.

“Voei.” Torric shuddered. “Voei are huge brutes, some as tall as small giants. They file their teeth and are well known for their fondness for human flesh. The Voei normally range in the Fervidous Hills, but have been known to raid as far south as the Corlathian Mountains and as far east as Milandir.”

“And you think they did this?” asked Sebastian.

“I do. The Voei are savage brutes born without the slightest shred of human kindness or decency. Mercy at the hands of the Voei is a quick death.”

“I’ve found a set of tracks heading off into the Corlathian Mountains,” said Ilmarė. “So at least we know which way they went.”

“If Quintus’ expedition was taken by the Voei,” said Torric, “then I have little hope for their survival. If any members of the team were taken alive, they probably won’t be by the time you find them.”

“You’re really cheery, you know that?” muttered Beldin.

Torric fixed Beldin with a stare. “I have completed his task by taking you here. I must return to the Shrine.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian. “We’ll take it from here.”

[talien]

The Corlathian Mountain range was not just a series of high peaks. The foothills, where the expedition located their campsite, were full of crevasses, winding passages, ravines, and canyons. Outcroppings and ledges covered many of the trails.

Every sound was magnified throughout the valley. The ruins of an ancient temple, its back to the valley wall, loomed before them. They had to struggle through the hip-deep snow.

Ilmarė froze.

“What is it?” asked Vlad.

“Shh!” Ilmarė cocked her head. “Listen.”

“Sounds like…breathing,” whispered Sebastian.

Ilmarė pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at small plumes of steam coming from mounds of snow. The telltale signs of a mammal’s breath…

Beldin whirled, pulling out his axe and shield. Vlad did the same.

With a roar, Voei exploded from all around them. They wielded huge swords and clubs. Just as Torric had promised, the Voei were awful brutes with sharpened teeth and rippling muscles.

Sebastian spread his fingers before him. “Incendiares globus!”

The ensuing explosion tossed snow everywhere. There were roars and screams as the Voei reeled from the attack. Steam filled the air, making it impossible to see.

Strange chanting echoed through the valley. Then a whirling ball of fire scorched its way through the snow.

“That yours?” shouted Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head. “It’s a fire elemental. They’ve got a shaman!”

Beldin roared and faced it head on. The fire elemental reared up, switching from a ball of flame to a snake-like form. It hissed and crackled.

Ilmarė fired two arrows at once into one of the fog-shrouded forms. It shrieked and collapsed.

Beldin slashed Windcutter through the elemental. The fire separated and reformed.

A wolf’s howl and a bear’s growl came from beyond the mists.

“What the hell are they doing back there?” Vlad stumbled backwards from the tremendous blow of one of the Voei. He rolled to the side as a club splattered snow and soot everywhere.

“It won’t matter in a moment: Incendiares globus!”

More flames burned off the mists and snow, leaving the air clear. The elemental was gone. Smoldering corpses of large humanoids were all that remained.

“Good job.” Beldin patted Sebastian on the shoulder.

Ilmarė emerged from the ruins. No one had seen her enter. “I found Quintus,” she said grimly.

“He’s not with you…is he alive?”

The elorii’s features flickered something…was it concern? “You’d better see for yourself.”

[talien]

Quintus was locked away in a side closet with only the carved corpse of his assistant as company.

“Easy,” whispered Ilmarė. She put her hands on his forehead, calling to the spirits of the air to heal him. “Easy.”

“What happened?”

“The Voei…” whispered Quintus. “They took us alive…planned to present me as a sacrifice for the tribal chief.”

“What…” Vlad looked down in horror. “What did they do to you?”

“On the second night following the raid, I tried to escape with my assistant…”

“The stories are true,” Sebastian said grimly. “They really are cannibals.”

“We were captured,” continued Quintus. “As punishment they killed the assistant. And then…and then…”

Beldin looked away.

“THEY ATE MY LEGS!” Quintus trembling hands felt at the stumps that were once the top of his thighs. “I’ll never walk again.” His eyes were filled with tears. He turned to Ilmarė. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stupid human,” Ilmarė’s tone was soft, despite her harsh words. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I can’t…be the man I was.”

“None of that matters now.”

Vlad kneeled down. “Can’t you heal yourself?”

“You don’t think I tried?” Quintus looked at his hands, caked in blood and dirt. “Illiir has forsaken me!”

“What?” asked Beldin in disbelief. “Why?”

Quintus licked his cracked lips. “I was there. The Emperor accused Felician val’Mehan of conducting secret negotiations with the heretical priests of the Dark Triumvirate of Canceri. Calsestus branded the Patriarch a heretic and a traitor. Then…it appeared…”

“What appeared?”

“A Valinor. It was glorious, radiant, terrible…and it witnessed the Emperor stabbing the Patriarch through the heart. Then it declared him Chosen of the Pantheon. It said: Let none doubt that Calsestus’ will is the will of the Gods. Then they sent me on this mission. It was suicide…they knew it. My loyalties to the Emperor were in question. And yet I had to go. When my contubernium needed me most, my divine might failed. And now they are all dead.”

Vlad moved to get up but Quintus grabbed him by the collar.

“I will not let this quest be in vain! While others foolishly searched for some sign in the valley below the Corlathians, only I was able to decipher the secret of the living ice. The ice has moved up and down the sides of the mountain, scouring it of all remains and artifacts; pushing downwards in times of intense cold and retreating upwards during warmer ages. Given the proof provided by the corpse of that grotesque goblin, I know that their final resting place is close at hand.”

With that Quintus, pulled from beneath his tunic a golden emblem upon a gold chain. There, in the center of the gilded disk, was an inscription in Ancient Altharin.

Ilmarė squinted at it. “It reads: Judgment tempered by mercy, fury tempered by clarity. It’s the credo of the inhabitants of the lost city of Chendo.”

“I know where the Pride of Chendo lies!” Quintus’ eyes were wild, desperate. “The glacier did move the remains up the mountain range. We must move quickly!”

The other stood up. The proud legionnaire was still on the ground, helpless.

“Let me help you,” Vlad lifted Quintus up. “I can fashion a harness. It’ll be just like Calactyte and Kham all over again.” He tried to make a joke, but nobody laughed.

Ilmarė looked away from them as they set off again up the mountain.

[talien]

The last week of travel had been one of the most perilous periods they ever faced. Besides the treacherous terrain, howling winds that threatened to blow the unwary off the mountainside, and the constantly looming risk of an avalanche, packs of winter wolves have been hounding their every step.

“The wolves seem to possess inhuman cunning,” said Beldin. “They’re always just out of sight.”

“They’re extremely intelligent,” said Ilmarė. “The fiercest of Osalian’s children.”

“Well, they’ve avoided every trap we’ve laid out for them,” said Vlad.

“Perhaps they are waiting for the mountain itself to finish you and then dine on your still-steaming corpses,” said Ilmarė.

They ignored her.

Finally Quintus yelled for a stop. Wracked with excitement, he pointed up a sheer escarpment.

“There…up there! We are very close now.”

“I don’t see a path leading upward,” said Beldin.

“Nor do I,” said Sebastian. “But I know how we can get up there.”

Ilmarė snorted. “Even I do not know all of Osalian’s secrets. Surely you have not mastered flight.”

“Not with magic.” Sebastian addressed Quintus. “You’re not the only one who lives with shame over his appearance. I’m about to share with you something I’ve kept secret for awhile now.”

Sebastian threw off his cloak.

Vlad gasped.

A pair of large bat-like wings unfolded behind the dark-kin. “I have learned that one man’s deformity is another man’s gift.” He unspoiled a rope from his belt pouch. “Observe.”

And with a mighty heave, Sebastian launched himself into the air.

[talien]

“I had no idea you could fly,” said Vlad.

“I suspected,” said Beldin, huffing and puffing up the cliff face. “I’m surprised you kept it secret this long.”

There was a history of keeping secrets between the dark-kin and dwarf that strained their relationship.

“I can’t fly, exactly. I can glide. Up and down. I get very tired, although my wings grow stronger every day. Perhaps one day, I will be able to fly.” Sebastian seemed almost wistful.

“It is a gift indeed.” Quintus spoke over Vlad’s shoulder, connected by his harness. “But one that would not be looked kindly upon by everyone.”

“That’s an understatement,” added Ilmarė.

“I do not think my…disability, will be so charitably received.”

As they moved further up the mountain, the wind picked up. Visibility alternated between hard and difficult.

During one of the still moments, a red-stained snowdrift of immense proportions caught their eye. Nearby, the sound of braying was dully heard over the howling of the wind.

Beldin inspected the snowdrift. What first appeared to be a buried log or stone quickly revealed itself to be…

Beldin took off his helmet and bowed his head. “A giant.”

Sebastian froze. “Is he…”

“Quite dead. The corpse is covered in cuts, gashes, and lacerations. He lived long enough to get away from his attacker and finally fell here.”

Sebastian looked around. “Where is that braying coming from?”

Ilmarė pointed. “There. It’s a goat.”

The braying belonged to a young goat with a leather collar. As Sebastian approached, it backed away tentatively.

“This is going to sound strange,” said Sebastian, “but I think the goat wants us to follow it.”

“That wouldn’t be any stranger than the rest of this trip,” muttered Ilmarė. “Fine, let’s follow the goat.”

[talien]

The small animal led them down a snow-covered trail, barely visible through the snowfall. After a few minutes, the kid stopped and brayed louder. The kid has led them to a tiny crevasse.

“There’s someone down there!” shouted Vlad.

A boy, unconscious, was wedged into the bottom of the crevasse.

Beldin looked at Sebastian. “Think you’re up to it?”

“Let’s hope so.” Sebastian threw off his cloak and unfurled his wings again. He descended the crevasse, flapping his wings for lift to slow his fall.

A few minutes later and he emerged with the boy.

“His leg is broken.” Ilmarė put her hands on the boy’s leg. It glowed with a soft purple light. “There.”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open. He feebly attempted to crawl away.

“Be calm,” said Ilmarė. “If we were going to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

“That’s not the kind of diplomacy I had in mind.” After ensuring that his wings were once again tucked beneath his cloak, Sebastian kneeled in front of the boy and smiled. “We mean you no harm.”

The boy barked something in a different language.

“That’s Ancient Altharin,” said Ilmarė. “A very odd dialect. Let me speak to him.”

She spoke something to the boy. He seemed to calm down. After speaking with him at length, she addressed her companions.

“His name is Hinod. He was leading a herd of goats back to his village when he fell through a layer of ice and slid down into the crevasse. He would like lead the us back to his village.”

“Anything’s better than this mountain,” said Vlad.

[talien]

The boy led them down an invisible trail through a series of small caverns and out into a surprisingly warm valley.

The sounds of goats and yaks braying echoed through the canyon walls. A curtain of mist rose up from the numerous rents in the valley floor, obscuring the humble mud and stone shacks that dotted the landscape.

“Hinod?”

A woman’s voice calls out the boy’s name as she came and swept him up in her arms. Through tear-laden eyes, she thanked them in her clipped language.

From the center of the village, a number of men are emerged from their huts. They were a short-limbed people, obviously human, but of a strange mix. Dark, matted hair and a broad flattened nose was a common trait that both the men and women of the village shared.

“They’ve got gold necklaces and jewelry that they can’t possibly have made themselves,” Beldin whispered to Sebastian.

“That’s the same metallurgy and color of the gold as the Centurion medallion I discovered,” whispered Quintus. “They were obviously made by the same craftsman – or at least the styles are similar.”

Sebastian nodded.

“Ilmarė, ask to speak with their leader,” said Sebastian. “We need to know how they got the jewelry they’re wearing.”

Ilmarė shot him a glare. She spoke over her shoulder, and soon was ushered into a hut. While they waited, the villagers offered them a hardy meal of goat and yak stew that do much to chase the chill from their limbs.

Eventually, the elorii returned.

“These are the Sheliac people,” she said. “They were occasionally threatened by the snow goblins, but they have not been seen since the Grey Lord sent a storm to shatter their home.”

“The Grey Lord?” asked Vlad. “Who is that?”

“Hurrian,” said Quintus. “The Storm Lord is often depicted as wearing a cloak of gray clouds.”

“The pieces of jewelry are spoils taken from the snow goblins. They can take us there.”

“Let’s go,” said Quintus. “There’s no time to waste.”

There was an awkward moment, where Quintus had to be lifted up by Vlad and refastened to his back. He was hardly in a position to tell anyone to go anywhere. But for once, even Ilmarė complied without complaint.

[talien]

The further they traveled up the mountainside, the worse the weather became. The wind picked up, gusting at times as fast as fifty miles per hour. The temperature had dropped to a bone-chilling ten degrees Fahrenheit.

They came to a wide chasm some, one hundred and fifty feet wide. Spanning it was a bridge made of ice. On the other side of the chasm, the mountainside continued with a large round ledge and an even larger cave entrance.

“That’s got to be it!” shouted Quintus. “We need to…” The rest of his explanation died in his throat as a monstrous shape began to form from out of the fog.

“Troll!” shouted Ilmarė. She drew her bow and fired. The arrow stuck in the long-nosed, slouching thing but didn’t stop it. It ambled across the bridge on its knuckles, gorilla-like, screeching as it came.

“I’ve got it.” Vlad drew his sword and shield and stepped forward to face the beast. It backhanded him and he fell, sliding perilously close to the edge of the bridge.

“Careful!” shouted Sebastian. “I can’t use my magic here or I’ll collapse the bridge!”

Beldin stepped forward. “Leave it to a dwarf to take care of a troll.” He drew Windcutter. “Come on then, beast. You’ll not be knocking me down so easily!”

The troll roared and charged forward. Beldin ducked low and hacked at one of its legs. The troll howled in pain and spun, slapping Beldin sideways.

True to his word, Beldin didn’t fall down. He merely slid upright across the bridge. He flew right off the edge but buried Windcutter blade into the side. The dwarf dangled over the void.

The troll turned, grinning with a mouthful of needle-like teeth. It leaned forward to leer at Beldin, savoring its prey.

With a mighty lunge, Vlad slammed into the troll’s backside with his shield. The thing shrieked as it flew end over end, past Beldin, and disappeared into the howling white winds below.

Vlad offered Beldin a hand up.

“Thanks,” said the dwarf. “Let’s not speak of this ever again.”

Vlad smiled. “Agreed.”

[talien]

Ilmarė padded ahead, listening every so often. The floor was covered in snow, but she seemed completely oblivious to its effects.

“It’s clear,” she whispered.

Vlad started walking forward when something cracked beneath him. For a second he and Quintus stared down at the floor.

Then it gave way. With a yelp, they collapsed into a pile of white snow.

Sebastian peered down into the shaft. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” shouted Vlad. “The snow broke our fall.”

“Broke YOUR fall,” came the muffled response from Quintus, buried beneath Vlad.

Beldin threw down a rope.

Ilmarė sniffed. “It must have a weight limit.” Then she cocked her head. “What’s that sound?”

Sebastian looked around. “What?”

“I hear…hissing. As if something is burning.”

They both smelled it. A coppery taste filled the air.

Above the pit, a red circle was slowly glowing brighter and brighter amongst the stalactites.

“Pull faster!” shouted Quintus.

“I’m pulling as fast I can!” Beldin shouted back.

Sebastian joined in. Ilmarė couldn’t help from her position on the opposite side of the pit.

“Hurry!” shouted Vlad.

With a roar, Beldin fell backwards, tugging hard on the rope. Snow and ice collapsed, completely filling the pit.

When the snow settled, Vlad and Quintus were safely just beyond the pit.

“Thanks,” said Vlad. “Let’s not speak of this ever again.”

The dwarf helped Vlad to his feet. “We’re even.”

Quintus spat snow out of his mouth. “Yeah, thanks.”

Ilmarė sighed. “So much for the element of surprise.”

[talien]

The sound of ice being struck and chipped echoed just above that of falling water in the distance. A sudden crack of a whip punctuated the intensity of the incessant groans and whimpers indicative of those forced into labor.

There were a dozen pale white goblins being forced to chip into the northern ice wall by a strange-looking beast. It had a long nose like a troll, but that was where the similarities ended. It was over seven feet tall, almost as wide, and had a stony gray carapace that covered its shoulders, back, outside of its arms and legs, its chest, and the back and top of its head. Its hands ended in four thick talons, also covered in the same hard carapace. Its broad face was slashed open by its toothy maw with a large nose topped by two piercing orbs, denoting a cunning mind and completing its menacing countenance. It was dressed in leather boots and a gold and mauve tabard cinched at its thick waist by a broad metallic belt.

“Singarthan trolls,” whispered Ilmarė. “I’ve never seen one before.”

Inside the far wall were scores of skeletal remains dressed in the armored regalia of legionnaires of the First Imperium.

“The artifacts!” shouted Quintus, betraying their position.

The goblins shrieked as the Singarthan turned to face them. They fled in a panic.

The troll dropped its whip and drew a huge blade. Vlad dropped Quintus unceremoniously to the ground.

“I know how to deal with the likes of you,” said Beldin a little forcefully. He hefted Windcutter in one hand. “Come on!”

The troll roared and hacked downwards with such force that it knocked Beldin’s shield out of his hand. Vlad came up behind it, but it backhanded him with one stony fist. He fell to the ground with a grunt.

Sebastian pointed a finger at the troll. “Radius Incensio!” Searing trails of flame spiraled towards the troll.

The Singarthan extended one palm and the fire dissipated harmlessly in an arc before it.

“What are these things made of?” Sebastian shouted in disbelief.

“It is a Singarthan of the warrior caste,” said Ilmarė. She fired two arrows, but they bounced right off of the troll’s carapace. “It is bred for battle.”

Vlad rose to one knee just as the troll struck again. The sound of metal on metal reverberated throughout the chamber from the impact. Vlad flew upwards and back, landing near Quintus. Blood trickled from his nose, ears, and mouth.

“Quintus!” Ilmarė fired two arrows, but they ricocheted off of the troll’s carapace. “Help Vlad!”

“I can’t! I can heal no one, not even myself!”

“Have you ever considered that the valinor was false?” shouted Ilmarė. “That the reason Illiir took away your spells is because you followed the Emperor’s orders? Think! Duty and allegiance aren’t everything!”

The troll turned to face Vlad’s unconscious body. Quintus crawled over to him.

“It was Umor, Quintus! Umor is manipulating everything! The Unspeakable One wants a war, he wants Arcanis weakened so he can invade!”

“Illiir,” whispered Quintus, “I know that you have forsaken me, but Vlad is a good and noble man. Let your will be done through me.” He put his hands on Vlad.

The Milandisian’s eyes fluttered opened. “You…healed me?”

“Not a moment too soon!” shouted Quintus. “Look out!”

Vlad grabbed Quintus and rolled to the side as the Singarthan troll’s blade rent the ice floor. It turned to finish them off…

Only to fall backward, Windcutter buried to the hilt in its skull.

“They have a weakness at the back of the neck,” sneered Beldin. He yanked the axe out before the troll had even fallen to the ground. “It’s the only way to kill them.”

“This is the place.” Quintus pointed at the artifacts entombed in the ice. “We must start digging immediately.”

“Let’s make sure there aren’t any others like these,” said Ilmarė. She disappeared around the corner. When she returned, the elorii was ashen-faced.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“Three more. The only reason they didn’t come in already is because there’s a waterfall between us and them. It drowns out all noise.”

“Speaking of not being interrupted,” Sebastian pointed in the direction where the goblins fled. “Incendiares globus!”

The tunnel collapsed on the muffled screams of the goblins.

“We can’t handle three!” said Vlad. “We could barely kill one of them!”

“But we have the element of surprise,” said Quintus. “Gather round: I have a plan.”

[talien]

Ilmarė hopped down from the cavern ceiling. She nodded at Quintus. “It’s ready.”

Vlad and Beldin took up a position in front of the tunnel. Beldin held only his axe Windcutter in both hands, glowing with magical a force field that illuminated him. He almost looked like a celestial giant of old…only smaller. Sebastian stood behind them.

“Ready?” asked Quintus. He sat behind Sebastian on the cold ice floor.

“Ready,” they said in unison.

“Ilmarė, go.”

Ilmarė took a deep breath and sang. She sang one long, pure note and held it. It reverberated throughout the chamber.

A few seconds later, the shadows of the Singarthans were visible in the tunnel. Hear song was audible even through the roaring of the waterfall.

The first troll rounded the corner. Ilmarė raised her voice to a higher pitch. The huge weakened stalactite above the troll cracked from the note.

The Singarthan looked up just in time to be skewered by the stalactite. It was buried under the rubble.

“Got it!” cheered Vlad. “That’ll teach—“

His celebration was cut short by a massive sharpened spike that pierced his shoulder, pinning Vlad to the wall ten feet behind him. He gasped in pain.

“It’s got a crossbow!” shouted Quintus, stating the obvious. “Beldin, stop him!”

Flames spiraled towards Sebastian. He dove to the side. “And a sorcerer!”

“That’s a Singarthan of the Arcane Caste,” said Ilmarė. “Sebastian, don’t let him cast another spell!”

The second Singarthan troll barreled forward. It dropped a huge crossbow and drew a massive axe. Beldin looked tiny in comparison.

The dwarf ducked low and rolled as the axe swipe missed him. He hacked at the Singarthan’s heel, then dove to the side again.

Sebastian lifted his arms. “Multimodis Oris!”

Three ghostly pairs of jaws shot out from the folds of his robes. The arcane Singarthan roared in pain.

Beldin dug in as the second troll’s blow came. The field of force around him dissipated, but the dwarf held his ground. “My turn!”

He hacked again hard at the troll’s foot. It skipped backwards to avoid the attack.

Ilmarė fired two arrows. One of them struck true, spinning the arcane troll from the force of the attack. That was all Sebastian’s ghostly jaws needed; they were on the troll like wolves on a carcass, biting and gnawing even as it thrashed helplessly beneath them. Then it lay still.

“Truce!” shouted the remaining troll.

Sebastian paused. Vlad yanked the crossbow bolt out of his chest. He slid to the ground.

Ilmarė knocked two more arrows. “Don’t trust it. It will turn on us later.”

“Truce,” it bellowed again. The Singarthan dropped its axe to the ground.

Beldin looked back at Quintus. He was busy healing Vlad.

“Let us hear what it has to say,” said Quintus.

“You may take this outpost and anything else in it. I only ask for free passage from here and the heart of my brother of the Arcane Caste.”

Sebastian’s hands were still up, ready to cast a spell. “Why do you want the heart?”

It looked at Sebastian curiously. “How else may I ascend to the next Caste?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Quintus.

[talien]

The troll’s efforts in chipping away at the ice took in a mere hour what would have taken them ten. It left without another word.

“We should not have let it escape,” said Ilmarė. “I don’t trust those monsters.”

“The Singarthan was just a warrior following orders,” Quintus said softly. “He was no monster.” He turned to Vlad. “Please, take me over to the chest.”

Vlad carried him over. Quintus passed his hand over the clasp. It glowed with a warm, ruddy light.

“Our efforts have not been in vain.” Quintus’ voice cracked. “We have unearthed the legacy of an honorable and just family and have put right an ancient wrong that was committed. According to family legend, after the end of the God’s War, the champions of the Gods were chosen and were touched by the power of Their Valinor to create the Val families.”

Ilmarė sneered. ”I know this story all to well.”

“The chosen of Nier, however, fell in battle against the forces of the Unspeakable One. Rather than take him from his rightful place in the Paradise of the Gods, Lord Nier chose to anoint both of his children, Virdan and Emman, with His power as one was equally as worthy as the other. While both manifested power to control Lord Nier’s holy flames, Virdan manifested power that augmented his unmatchable prowess in battle. Emman manifested those abilities that best complemented her grace and speed. Then the Gods left Mankind to craft a magnificent new empire.”

“Though the Val families had been blessed by the glory of your so-called Gods, they still held in their bosom the baser emotions that even to this day hold sway over all mankind,” said Ilmarė ruefully. “I remember their petty squabbles as if it were yesterday.”

“The Lady Emman was an untamed beauty, wild and passionate like the val’Sheem, but equally thoughtful and graceful, a worthy bride of Imperators -- or so the first lord of the val’Assante’ felt. In order to woo her, the first Imperator gave the val’Emman family and all its subjects the fertile land to the south of the Corlathian Mountains, in the area now west of the Coryani Empire. This infuriated Lord Virdan, who had originally been promised those same lands. During one tempestuous night in court, Lord Virdan demanded the lands of his sister and was not only denied, but also ridiculed by the entire court. Incensed, Lord Virdan cursed the Imperator and vowed that neither he nor his would ever be part of the Imperium. That night, the entire val’Virdan family as well as all its vassal families and subjects abandoned the fledgling Imperium and struck off to the East.”

“If I remember my history correctly,” said Sebastian, “Lord Virdan founded his own small kingship in the lands stretching from what is now northern Canceri east to the city of Erduk in Hinterlands.”

“Correct. The Imperium prospered, expanded, and eventually abutted the lands of the val’Virdan. Though they were unequaled in battle, after many years of prolonged fighting, the val’Virdan family finally fell to the combined might of the Imperium. Their lands were absorbed into the Imperium and the Imperator decreed that the val’Virdan family would be enslaved and forced to defend the empire that they so hated. Centuries of abuse at the hands of the Imperium eventually resulted in the forging of Leonydes val’Virdan, the Sword of the Heavens, and his resultant insurrection against the Imperium.”

“That explains a lot,” said Vlad. His people had fought Leonydes before.

“During the Sword of the Heavens’ attack, the forces of the val’Emman family were targeted for complete annihilation as the hatred of Lord Virdan had been nurtured across the years, through stories told to children and then repeated to their children and so on. A disgruntled military officer, Jharek of Chendo, made a pact with the Sword of the Heavens. His legion, whose name has been lost through the ages, would lead a portion of the Nierite army through the mighty city’s defenses and capture it with a minimum of bloodshed. The Sword of the Heavens agreed, but the plan went awry and the city was instead sacked.”

“I expect nothing less from a Nierite,” said Vlad.

Quintus looked at him strangely. “General Jharek, whose name is now synonymous with traitors, was appalled. He had envisioned being appointed prince of the territory. Instead, he precipitated the destruction of the city and the eradication of the culture of the area. He and his men marched from the city, the weight of their deed weighing heavily upon them. Whenever they were asked the name of their legion, they merely answered, “We are the Doom of Chendo”. Eventually they arrived at the city of Enpebyn and tried to redeem themselves by becoming the eternal guardians of that city.

“Redemption does not come so easily,” said Beldin.

“Unbeknownst to Jharek, at the command of the Prince of Chendo, another legion had fled the ruin that was being visited upon that doomed city. With them, they carried a chest containing the sum of all the writings and teachings of Chendo. This vessel, called the Ark of Knowledge, was in their possession when they were set upon by a Nierite legion somewhere in this area. A lone survivor from the Nierite legion eventually made it back to the First City and told his tale before dying from exposure and his injuries. He related the battle and told of the Nierites’ destruction, but the Pride of Chendo’s victory was short-lived as a terrible blizzard moved in. Only his faith in Nier was able to keep the frigid weather from killing the young soldier out of hand. He reported that the last he saw of the members of the Pride of Chendo, they were going up the mountainside -- trying to find shelter where none existed. And thus the last of that noble family and province was wiped clean from history and any mention of it was expunged by the decree of Leonydes val’Virdan himself.”

“And that’s the Ark of Knowledge?” asked Vlad.

Quintus nodded. “What I first called the Ark of Knowledge is correctly called the Ark of the val’Emman. Once sealed, only one of the blood may open it without destroying its contents.”

Quintus passed his hand over the lock once again. The latch glowed and a loud click rebounded through the icy chamber.

“Years ago, when we were in Grand Coryan, I did not know where the Ansharan Gate was, do you recall?”

Ilmarė nodded. Vlad strained to remember.

“That is because I am not from Grand Coryan at all. I lied to you, ashamed of my heritage. I am a descendant of the val’Emman as are probably many who now call themselves val’Virdan.”

Quintus triumphantly threw open the lid. Instantly, a crystal jewel the size of a human fist floated up out of the chest, sparkling with a warm ruddy glow from within.

“And now, with this, the Mentagi, the legacy of the val’Emman family can be rediscovered and their descendants may take their rightful name once again!”

Quintus grasped the Mentagi crystal. A brilliant white light spread from his hands to his arms, and then engulfed his entire body. He floated up in the air. The divine energy was so bright that they all covered their eyes.

When they opened them, Quintus stood before them on his own two legs. He looked like a warrior of old, accoutered in the armor and weapons they discovered hidden in the ice.

“Quintus,” said Ilmarė. “You have been reborn!”

Vlad peered at Quintus. “And your eyes are gray. That means…”

“Quintus is now a val,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

[talien]

The trip back through the portal was as disorienting as ever. Once they regained their bearings, Decimus was standing before them.

“This is not the same portal chamber,” said Ilmarė.

“Welcome back, my friends. I feared that you might choose the Gracchi offer instead.”

“We talked about it at length,” said Sebastian. “But ultimately, I would rather support a rebel than a tyrant.”

“Where are we?” asked Vlad.

“You are in Nevanne. I apologize for the deception. My employer did not feel it safe for you to return to Savona and instead sought help from an ally.”

“Who is this ally?” asked Beldin.

Decimus began to speak and then was cut off by the sound of marching feet and the opening of the portal chamber’s heavy door.

General Menisis val’Tensen entered with a small entourage of men.

“Welcome back from your mission. I’m sure you did not expect to arrive in Nevanne. However, his Eminence, the Archprelate of Beltine, felt it might be more prudent for you to come here rather than for you to return Enpebyn. Please tell me, did you succeed in finding the val’Emman’s Mentagi?”

Quintus saluted Menisis. “How do you know of this mission? Why are you interested in it?”

“Those are all legitimate questions. Decimus’ patron, the Archprelate Morushun val’Ishi, told me of your mission. The Emperor is either under the sway of malignant forces or has gone insane. His Holiness believes that should the Mentagi fall into the Emperor’s hands, he will allow those of the val’Emman family access to it only if they swear fealty to him. I do not wish to see a people freed from the mists of history only to be enslaved as janissaries of a madman.”

“So it is open rebellion then,” Quintus said quietly.

“You must understand that I have reports of legions deserting their posts and returning to their founding city. Further reports tell of small clashes between Coryani legions in the outskirts of the Foundry as well as a very troubling mention of the disappearance of an entire legion in the Western Marches. With such chaos rippling through the Empire, I’m sure you agree that Nevanne is a far safer place for your discovery than those contested regions.” He nodded at Decimus. “Decimus has a letter from the Archprelate corroborating what I just explained.”

“About our payment…” added Vlad.

“The artifacts are property of Quintus’ expedition and by extension, they become the property of the Archprelate. You will be compensated as promised and be given leave to go as you wish.”

Quintus cleared his throat. “I have nowhere else to go. I would stay here and help, if you will have me.”

Menisis assessed Quintus. “You look different, Quintus. Stronger. We would be glad to have you. And the rest of you?”

“We’ve got a friend to catch up with in Altheria,” said Sebastian. “We need to leave at once.”

“I understand. You will be escorted with all due haste. The sooner you’re out of Coryan, the better. The Emperor will not soon forget this slight.”

The esteemed general nodded again to Decimus and then marched out the way he came. Decimus and the others followed after him.

“Ilmarė, wait.”

The elorii paused. Quintus and Ilmarė stared at each other for a long moment.

“When I had heard you were poisoned in Milandir, I feared the worst. I went on this quest with the hope that I would find you. And then this all happened.” Quintus hugged her to him. “When I was in that closet, when they were cutting me up…all that kept me going was the thought of you. You were all I could think of, even though I knew you were a thousand miles away. And you found me. You found me.”

“I'm sorry,” said Ilmarė. “I'm sorry...”

“Hey...hey...it's okay!” He hugged her tighter.

“Your new body is different…so thin,” said Ilmarė. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…no…it feels good...” He hadn’t been hugged or barely touched in so long.

Ilmarė disengaged and looked at him with a familiar smile.

“Back soon, you said you'd be back soon.”

“I know. I was on a mission I couldn’t share with you. With anyone. The contubernium were my family. With you gone, they were my world. Now they’re gone too.” Quintus met her gaze, looked her over with a smile. “You look...wonderful. I like your hair.”

“I’ve…I’ve found someone else,” Ilmarė said softly. “An elorii.”

“I thought you might have.”

“I would never –“

“I know.”

“I didn't want it to happen. It just did. One day Persius was there. He took care of everything. He took care of me. I was…broken.”

“It’s been so long. Are you married?”

Ilmarė shook her head. “It’s more complicated than that. Some day, I will explain it to you.”

Silence.

“We’ve changed a lot, haven’t we?”

“We have indeed,” said Ilmarė. “You and I are more different than ever.”

“And yet, far more alike.” Quintus laughed. “Now I’m a val in service to a rebel army. And you are trying to help save humans from ssanu.”

Ilmarė’s expression turned serious. “Umor has grown so bold as to manifest as a Valinor before the Emperor. The Gods War is at hand. We may not see each other again.”

Quintus smiled sadly. “Then this is goodbye. Farewell, Ilmarė. Take good care of Kham and the others.”

“Someone has to.” She squeezed his hand briefly. Then she turned and walked out of Quintus’ life.

Quintus stood there, uncertain and unwilling to step into his new life right away.

Decimus stuck his head back in the room. “Come, Quintus. We’ve got much work to do and little time to do it.”

“Right,” said Quintus. He approached the two legionnaires who flanked the doorway.

They both saluted him. “For duty and honor!”

Quintus blinked back tears of surprise. Finding his voice, he shouted,”For duty and honor!”