The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 149

LOOK INTO MY EYE


Varo felt the unnatural power of the umber hulk’s stare as it unleashed its gaze attack upon him. The swirling pattern of chaos in those eyes called to him, but the priest of Dagos was a master of chaos, and with an effort of will he tore his eyes free of that confusing gaze.

Serah tried to get away from the grasping arms of the first hulk, but the creature was both faster and far stronger than the cleric. It seized her in its claws, and pulled her up to bite. The claws that could burrow through solid stone were given little difficulty by even magical chain links, and they penetrated deep into her body. Its mandibles would have taken her head clean off, but Serah managed to get an arm up to push away. The move saved her life but cost her, as the hulk’s jaws seized upon the limb, savagely crushing the bones. The priestess screamed and lost consciousness, falling limp in the monster’s terrible grasp.

Dar, rushing to engage the ants, had reversed course the instant that the hulks had appeared, and now he charged into battle, Bullo close on his heels. Dar smote the hulk holding Serah, driving Valor through one of the armored plates covering its torso. The hulk let out a high-pitched shriek and tossed the unconscious cleric aside, turning its wrath upon the fighter.

The second hulk had surged toward Varo following the failure of its gaze attack, but it was diverted as Bullo rushed at it, his axe raised above his head in both hands. The hulk had superior reach, though, and it smashed the warrior across the body with a huge claw. Droplets of blood were flung through the air as the claws pierced Bullo’s armor, but the legionary kept on coming, turning with the force of the impact to drive his axe down toward the creature’s head. Unfortunately the hit he’d taken had thrown off his angle slightly, and the axehead glanced off the side of its head without inflicting damage.

“Don’t meet its gaze!” Varo yelled in warning. Unfortunately for his allies, the warning came too late, as both fighters were confused by the shifting patterns that flickered through the hulks’ huge eyes. Dar shook his head, dazed, unable to stop the hulk from picking him up and hurling him across the cavern. He landed hard twenty feet away, groaning in pain.

Bullo let out a wild yell and tried to attack the hulk again, abandoning all thought of defense in an all-out surge of violence. But the hulk was faster, tearing into the fighter’s armored body with its claws. The force of the blows knocked the fighter aside, his axe clattering on the rough stone as he fell hard to the ground.

The rest of the companions were coming to help as quickly as they could, but they still had their hands full with the remaining ants. Talen killed the last soldier ant on his side of the battlefield and ran back toward the melee with the hulks, while Pella recovered her bow. The knight heard Varo’s shout and averted his eyes, trying to keep his gaze on the lower half of the hulks’ bodies. It made for a difficult rush, and only a slight shifting of the legs of the nearer of the two warned him that an attack was coming. He raised his shield, barely deflecting a powerful hit from a claw that numbed his entire arm from the force of the impact. He surged forward, sweeping his holy sword across the hulk’s lower body. But the effort of averting his eyes had thrown off his stroke, and the sword glanced harmlessly off the creature’s thick torso plates.

The hulk immediately tore into him with its claws and mandibles.

Shay saw the hulk attack and Talen’s charge, but she could not immediately move to join him. Even the split second of distraction nearly allowed one of the worker ants to get its jaws closed around her knee; she still suffered a painful wrench to the limb as she tore free of its bite. Baraka, having finished the second ant he’d engaged, leapt to her aid, ignoring another that was worrying at his back, trying to get hold of a leg or arm.

“Go!” he yelled. “We’ll finish these!”

Kalend yelped as an ant bit him, but the rogue was canny enough to shift to the side, taking up a flanking position opposite the mountain ranger.

Shay leapt backward, spinning around in midair to hit the ground running ten feet away. She had heard Varo’s warning, but beyond that had personal experience with umber hulks; she knew not to look directly at them.

Varo tried to get to Serah, but was blocked as the second hulk rumbled straight for him. He held his ground, keeping his eyes low until its claw locked onto his torso, threatening to crush his ribs through sheer strength. The cleric’s concentration held, and he touched the hulk at the joint where its claw met its wrist, pouring an inflict critical wounds into it. The hulk shrieked and fell back, its damaged claw trailing blood that oozed out from the gaps in its chitinous armor.

A loud roar emerged from the rubble behind the creature. Bullo reared up, holding a boulder twice the size of his head in his hands. Ignoring the blood trailing down his body from the ill-treatment he’d suffered at the hands of the hulk, he rushed the creature from behind, driving the stone into its back with enough force to crack one of its heavy dorsal plates.

The hulk immediately spun to finish the fighter, but as it turned an arrow knifed deep into the narrow opening in its armored body, under the spot where its right arm met its body. The arrow disappeared entirely into its torso, and the hulk collapsed to its knees. Bullo lifted the rock and smashed it repeatedly into the hulk’s head, until the stone was covered in blood and gore.

Varo turned to see that Allera had reached Serah, who was already regaining consciousness, brought around by the healer’s powerful magic. But he also saw something else more dangerous.

“Allera, look out!”

The healer turned to see Dar charging straight toward her, madness in his eyes as he lifted Valor to strike.

 

[CrusadeDave]

The healer turned to see Dar charging straight toward her, madness in his eyes as he lifted Valor to strike.

Confusion is so fun.

 

[wolff96]

Confusion is so fun.

...for the DM.

 

[Lazybones]

...for the DM.

Ah, come on. What player hasn't secretly held the desire to lay some smite on a fellow PC (especially one that's annoyed them in the past). Confusion just gives an excuse.

Although Dar and Allera's relationship is complicated enough already.

* * * * *

Chapter 150

THE ORIENTATION


Allera, kneeling protectively over the still seriously injured Serah, had nowhere to go; Talen was still engaged in deadly combat with the umber hulk behind her, and Dar was coming on too quickly for her to evade.

The healer quickly cast a spell, blanketing the area with a soothing wave of peace. The calm emotions spell pierced the veil of confusion that the hulk had laid over him, and he stumbled to a stop, lowering his sword just a few steps away from her. He still looked confused, but it was the genuine emotion, and not tinged with the violent effects of the umber hulk’s gaze.

“Allera... what... I... I’m sorry...”

Bullo had likewise stumbled back, dropping the bloody rock as he looked around with a bewildered look on his face.

Allera’s spell had had the desired impact on the two confused fighters, but it had a negative side effect as well. Talen and the hulk had both been within the radius of the calm emotions. The pair had spent a violent ten seconds engaged in an intense close-quarters melee, exchanging heavy blows, but the knight had by far taken the worst of the exchange. Talen was trained at blind-fighting, compensating to some degree for his inability to look up at the monster, but thus far ill luck had made nearly all of his attacks against the hulk ineffective, only a single glancing cut to its leg drawing blood at all. As Allera’s spell hit Talen blinked and lowered Beatus Incendia, his fighting rage blunted. But the hulk, whether because of its alien mind or simply through sheer willpower, was clearly able to shake off the effect. Faced with a suddenly docile foe, it lifted both claws, and smashed them down hard into the knight’s chest. Talen was driven back into the ground, and did not stir.

“No!” Shay yelled, charging at the hulk before it could make certain of its foe. The hulk turned to face her, but even as it swept a claw around to intercept her, she sprang high into the air, leaping over the hulk’s arm. As she flew past it her hand snapped forward, impaling the creature with the full length of her elvish-made sword, driving it to the crossguard into its neck. The umber hulk staggered backward, clawing with futility at the hilt of the sword, and as Shay dove to the side it landed hard on its back, quivered, and fell still.

Dar blinked and looked at the dying creature, frowning as he looked down at his own sword.

Allera rushed over to Talen, beating Shay by a scant second. As the scout drew off his battered helm, the healer checked his pulse, letting out a sigh of relief as she placed her hands around his neck, pouring healing power directly into his body.

Talen groaned, and Shay let out her own relieved breath.

Bullo, still somewhat dazed, started to come over to them, but Varo forestalled him. “Hold your position, warrior. You are enspelled, but if the healer’s magic expires before the effects of the hulk’s gaze, you may again turn on your companions.”

The legionary’s look indicated that he didn’t fully understand, but he obeyed.

“Serah, keep an eye on Bullo and Dar. If either appears to fall into the confusion-rage again, you must hold him.”

The cleric, still barely on her feet herself, nodded.

“Cleric!”

Varo turned to see Baraka and Kalend rushing forward, supporting the limp weight of Travius between them. The legionary was heavily injured but conscious, groaning in obvious pain. He had held off six ants for most of the battle, completely surrounded, but a few of the soldiers had finally managed to get through the deadly defensive weave of his twin swords. Blood oozed from the multiple wounds he’d taken from the ants, including a pair of nasty stings.

“Is everyone else all right?” Baraka asked, as Varo cast a healing spell upon the injured warrior.

“It appears that all will survive this encounter,” the priest of Dagos said. He gave them a look that encompassed all three of them. “In any event, welcome to Rappan Athuk.”

The three men shared a grim look, as Varo drew his cloak around him, and walked away.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 151

PREPARATION


After their ordeal with the ants and the umber hulks, the companions elected to seek out a secure place to camp. Shay suggested the goblin mines to the south, near the river. The distance from the site of the battle might give them some respite from the scavengers that would inevitably be drawn to the scene of the carnage, the scout explained.

“It would also leave us with our backs to the river, if something does come a’ wandering,” Dar pointed out. Once the calm emotions spell had worn off, the fighter had seemed almost embarrassed, but whether it was for almost killing Allera, or from having just stood there befuddled while Shay had taken out the last hulk, it was impossible to say.

“From the tracks that Shay and Baraka found, it looks like the entrance to the goblin city is to the north,” Talen said. “Until we know the situation with them, it might be better to seek out a more out of the way corner to hole up and rest.”

Once Allera, Serah, and Varo had treated the worst of their wounds, Shay led them south. The entrance to the southern mines was a little over a hundred yards from where they had encountered the ants, a dark opening in the cliff wall about twenty feet above the cavern floor. A narrow path etched in the stone led up to the opening, barely more than a series of foot and handholds. The wreckage of what had once been a pulley harness lay in a tangle below the mine entrance, along with the smashed remains of a pair of wheelbarrows.

Spreading out, Shay and Baraka found signs that the goblin miners here had been attacked as well. In addition to more bloodstains, they found a pair of fairly recent tracks that ended at the river; apparently some of the goblins had taken their chances with the fast-moving watercourse rather than face whatever it was that had attacked here. This mine site was much more defensible than the last, due to the opening being so high up, but when Shay climbed up to look inside, she reported that the place was just as empty, with only a few hints of recent use and hasty departure left behind.

With the help of the scouts, the companions made their way up to the mine entrance. The goblins had used a natural cave as the starting point for their mine shafts, so there was enough room inside to accommodate all of them. The shafts themselves penetrated at sharp angles into the cliff wall, rising or falling depending on the vagaries of the ore deposits.

“Iron ore,” Talen said, poking at one of the mounds.

“I wonder where they dumped the tracings for this one?” Baraka said.

“The river, maybe, or perhaps there’s a crevice nearby,” Shay said. “It would have been easier to build a ramp with what they excavated, but it would have also made the mine itself more vulnerable to attack.”

“That didn’t save them in the end,” Dar said.

After probing a bit more to make sure that none of the mine tunnels led to any unpleasant surprises, the companions set up their camp. Shay used some of their precious charcoal to cook a stew with dried meat and vegetables taken from their stores, augmented with some mushrooms from the cavern that she insisted were safe. Travius was suspect of those last, and the scout finally grabbed one and bit into it raw, chewing it deliberately and swallowing while he watched.

“Satisfied? Now unless you know how to cook, go do something useful and fill up those waterskins from the river.”

“Baraka, you and Kalend go with him,” Talen said. The pair nodded, and the three left the cave, passing Bullo and Pella, who were keeping watch at the entrance.

Talen looked around for Varo, and started when he saw the cleric standing just behind him. “Gods, man, we need to put a bell around your neck or something.” He turned to the others around the fire; all of them save Pella and Bullo, those who had gone for water, and Serah, who had collapsed into her bedroll almost the moment they’d arrived.

“All right, tomorrow we need to find the entrance to the goblin city. Varo, your detection spell, it can guide us?”

The cleric nodded. “Yes, but I prefer to keep it in reserve for as long as possible. The spell only lasts for a short while, a bit under two hours, and the farther we are from our objective, the third temple of Orcus, the less likely the spell is to produce an ideal path.”

“Doesn’t sound like your god’s guidance is that much help after all,” Dar said.

“The find the path spell is very potent, but it only indicates the fastest route to a destination. It does not reveal traps, defenses, or guardians. We should rely on mundane means, such as tracking and logic, as much as possible.”

Talen frowned, but Shay said, “The goblins have been moving ore out of here... it should be easy enough to follow the barrow tracks.” The scout dumped a heap of chopped vegetables into the stew pot, and went to work on the mushrooms, working efficiently with her knife.

“All right, everyone check your weapons and gear, and then...”

“If I might take a moment first, commander,” Varo interrupted. “There is one other matter I would like to broach. I had thought to wait until we had entered Rappan Athuk proper, but this seems as good a time as any.”

“I hope that this is not another surprise, Varo,” Talen said. But the cleric merely produced a cloth bag from his backpack, dumping a collection of glittering objects from it into his hand.

“Rings,” Allera said. There were four of the rings, plain bands of metal, each set with a dark stone. They matched the one that the cleric wore.

“These are for us, I presume? What do they do?” Talen asked.

“The stone is named ul’ulira, and it comes from Razhur. The Razhuri believe that the mineral comes from the brains of dead gods, and that each fragment holds within it some spark of the divine.”

“Yeah, well, Camar has people who are screwed in the head too,” Dar said. “You didn’t answer the general’s question. What does the stuff do for us?”

“The rings are empowered with the ability to protect the life-force of the wearer, in much the same way that Snaggletooth’s gem did for Allera. If one of us dies in Rappan Athuk, their soul should be drawn into the gem, allowing a raise spell to later bring them back to life.”

“You do not sound certain, priest,” Talen said.

Shay looked closely at the rings, and frowned. “What you describe... it sounds like base necromancy. Upon death, the soul should ascend to the higher planes, to the side of the Father.”

“Yes, I am familiar with the concept. Tell me, how well did that work out for Valus and Zosimos?”

“The Sphere,” Talen said. “How far does its effect extend?”

“I am not certain,” Varo replied. “But it has grown stronger, as the ritual to unleash Orcus progresses further toward culmination. I would not be surprised if it now encompassed the entirety of Rappan Athuk.”

“Wonderful,” Dar said.

“What about the others? Dar’s legionaries, Serah, Pella, Baraka...” Allera began.

“I only have a limited quantity of the rings.”

“Where did you get them?” Talen asked.

“From a dealer of rarities that I know in Camar. I traded some of the magical treasures that we found on our last visit to Rappan Athuk for them.”

The companions shared a meaningful look.

“If you do not wish to wear them, then that is your choice,” Varo said. “But consider this. Any of us may fall within Rappan Athuk. If it is the person next to you... would you prefer to have a chance to have them restored to life, or would you prefer that their soul is consumed by the cult’s artifact, to serve as fuel for their plan to free their master?”

“You talk freely of raising people from the dead,” Talen said. “You weren’t so generous before, when you refused to bring back Galen and Medelia.”

Varo’s gaze was sharp, but Talen did not flinch from it. “I have told you, bringing someone back from the dead is not a trivial matter. The spell requires diamonds worth thousands of gold pieces, and must be cast within a limited period of time.”

“Marshal Tiros gave you a huge fortune in gems, to raise those who died fighting the Duke...”

Varo leaned forward over the small fire, the flickering light from the coals casting the features of his face into stark relief. He kept his voice low, but the words hissed from him like darts. “Do you not understand what is at stake here, knight of Camar? Did you not grasp the meaning of the oaths you took?” He turned his gaze upon each of those seated around the fire. “Make no mistake, I do not make this offer out of friendship, nor did I choose each of you above the others out of a shared camaraderie. We are in a struggle in which we either win, or lose everything, everything, that we have in this world. For all the wealth and power of Camar, we few here are the best chance of victory against our enemy, and do not think for a moment that our foe does not know that.”

For a moment, Varo and Talen stared at each other in silence over the fire. Finally, Varo leaned back, and took up the cloth bag again, his mouth twisting slightly.

“Wait,” Talen said.

The cleric looked up.

“Allera... can you examine the rings, confirm what Varo told us?” Talen said. “Talk to Serah, as well, when she wakes. No offense, Varo, but trust is something that is earned. And you have been far from forthcoming in the past.”

“I would consider you a fool to do otherwise,” the cleric said. He gave the rings to Allera, and then rose. “If you will excuse me, I have my own preparations to make for the morrow.”

“You don’t want any food?” Shay asked.

The cleric regarded them with a cold expression. “I am not hungry. Enjoy your rest. You will need it.”

The cleric withdrew to the back of the cave, disappearing into the shadows.

“What do you think?” Talen asked Dar.

“I think what I’ve said before; you’re a fool if you turn your back on Licinius Varo.” He took up his pack and breastplate. “Give me a kick when the meal’s ready,” he said, heading over to a nearby mound of pulverized rock from one of the mines, lying back against it. Within seconds, he was asleep.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 152

VISIONS OF SHADOW


The forest was a corrupt, malevolent place. He could remember when it had been his home, a place of natural beauty and solace, and even though the memory was faint, of another time long past, it still had the power to cause his guts to twist when he perceived what it had become.

The air burned his lungs even through his filter mask. Above, the sky was a universal gray, occasionally streaked with red lines of smoke rising from the blood forges.

He stayed far away from the trees, an instinct that did not require conscious thought. They were twisted, ugly things, their branches contorted into unnatural shapes, with cracks in the black bark that oozed a foul smelling red ooze. The entire forest smelled of rot, and things crunched under his boots that did not bear closer examination.

The fact that they had come here at all bespoke their desperation.

The party moved silently, wary eyes scanning every direction for the threats that they knew all too well could materialize without warning. The sword of the fallen paladin barely shone, now, the dull steel echoing the man’s lifeless eyes. They were far fewer than they had been when they had fled Stronghold. They had been fortunate, he knew; most of the defenders had died when the walls had been breached, and the undead had come pouring in.

“Wraiths!” came a warning, drawing his attention back into the now. He lifted his wand, but the others were faster; beams of energy crackled through the air, knifing through the undead that drifted through the trees toward them. Before he could act, all six wraiths had been destroyed.

They had power; all those he encountered did. Anyone who had managed to survive this long had it. Once he’d come upon a group that contained a human child, a commoner girl, barely seven years old. Somehow, he’d thought that she was special, somehow a symbol of hope for the blasted survivors. The band had united to protect her, to keep her safe.

Like all hopes, that one had been dashed. He’d destroyed the ghouls that tore her to pieces himself, but that gave no solace; there were always more. How many had he destroyed? A hundred? A thousand? A million? Numbers were meaningless.

“They know we’re here, now,” the paladin growled. “I hope that this is not a fool’s errand, elf.”

He did not know if it was or not. All he knew was that he had to see, to know if what he had feared had come to be. He knew the devastation of hopes torn asunder, but somehow there was a small part of him that could not help hoping, despite all the pain it caused.

They pressed on through the woods. They destroyed a band of mohrgs, but the creatures did not seem to have been actively hunting them. If they had, it would have been a thousand of the creatures, rather than a dozen. Perhaps they would have been taken; there were places where the living were kept alive, mostly in the lands ruled over by vampire lords, or other undead who needed to feed upon the life energies of the mortal.

The forest floor rose ahead, and his heartbeat quickened. They were here... He felt a cold anticipation clench in his chest as his companions rose to the ridge. He had to see... had to see...

“Gods...” someone breathed.

He surged up the last bit of the slope, ignoring the sharp rocks that cut at his hands and feet as he clambered up.

Aelvanmarr stretched before him. The once-beautiful ancient trees of the elven city were gone, replaced by a mockery of replacements, a lattice of interlocking towers crafted out of bones. The gentle stream that had brought a cool breeze through the place was still there, but its waters were red, thick with black slicks that sizzled as they hit the bare stones on the surrounding banks. There were... things, visible on the barren stretches of blackened grass around the towers, misshapen monstrosities that moved with the jerky animation of the mindless undead.

And within the circle of towers, there stood a ring of cloaked and cowled figures. There were twelve, just as with the ancient Conclave of the aelfinn, and they were of a size to have been his kin, brother elves, the lords of his people and masters of their magic.

As one, the twelve reached up and drew back their hoods. Bleached white skulls lifted, and malevolent red eyes stared up at the mortals on the ridge, eyes that had the power to invoke fear even this far away. Liches, all twelve, and he knew that they commanded the full power that had once belonged to his people.

A voice sounded in his mind. Soon, all will share this fate...

“Elegion, wake up!”

The elf started. He looked down at the book spread out on the edge of the low table before him; there was a faint imprint on the parchment sheet from where his head had laid against it. He looked up to see another elf in a gray robe standing on the far side of the table, a look of concern on his face.

“The visions have returned?”

Elegion Aldaris, the mad elf of Rappan Athuk, nodded. He repressed a shudder; as was often the case in the immediate aftermath of his dreams, he saw shadows of what he experienced there. To his eyes, his friend’s skin was pale and gray, his skin sunken and sallow. It would fade, or at least it had before, but it was unnerving even when he knew it to be unreal.

“Worse than before, Sultheros,” he said. He looked back down at the book. The sigils and swirling script there held no meaning for him; the spells he’d been studying remained beyond him. The worst part was that he knew that he had once understood them; the writing was in his own hand. While the Lyceum had received most of his books, his friend had taken this one into his safekeeping once Aldaris had fled into exile, and had gladly restored it to him on his return.

“Were you successful?” he asked, without looking up.

The other elf stood there quietly until Aldaris looked up. “Only partially. Draelai has most of your former possessions in his personal custody, and I cannot access them without providing a justifiable reason. However, I did find this, in the shielded vault at the Conclave.”

He drew out an item wrapped in white cloth, and laid it on the table. Aldaris reached out and carefully unwrapped the cover, revealing a dagger. The weapon appeared to have been formed out of a single solid slab of mithral, and looked to be both heavier and more substantial than necessary for an effective weapon. The blade was a triangular wedge seven inches long, and there was a gemstone set into the hilt, a bright blue star sapphire a full inch across.

“I had not realized that this was yours,” Sultheros said. “It looks to be somewhat awkward for a weapon, although the spell storing properties of the gem make it a quite useful device otherwise.”

Aldaris just stared down at the dagger. The sight of it had stirred an odd feeling inside him. “I need this,” he whispered to himself.

“It is yours, then, old friend.”

The elf shook his head as if to clear it, and looked up. “This will bring trouble upon you.”

Sultheros waved a hand in dismissal. “What was done to you was an injustice. I do not pretend to know what is happening to you, my friend, but I know enough to understand that you are part of something important. I will give you what aid I can, and only hope that it will be enough for you to accomplish what you need to do.”

Aldaris nodded in thanks. “I am fortunate to have you as a friend.”

“When do you intend to leave?”

Aldaris covered the dagger again with the cloth, and slid it over into his lap. “In a day or two. There is still something that I need to do.” His hands brushed over the words on the page, their meaning just beyond his comprehension.

 

[Ghostknight]

The only question, really, has to be- does the mad elf go the way of all arcane casters? Shall we issue him his red shirt now or later?

 

[wolff96]

The Mad Elf has some rogue levels. It isn't until the last of them is exchanged for his old wizard levels that he will perish. The instant he becomes a single-class arcanist... WHUMPH!

Until then, though, he might have a chance.

The three main characters still have destiny to fulfill before that point, though.

 

[Richard Rawen]

The Mad Elf has some rogue levels. It isn't until the last of them is exchanged for his old wizard levels that he will perish. The instant he becomes a single-class arcanist... WHUMPH!

Until then, though, he might have a chance.

The three main characters still have destiny to fulfill before that point, though.

Agreed, upon level up he will receive:
2+Int Mod Skill Points
d4+Con Mod Hit Points
1 Feat, if appropriate
1 Wizard Bonus Feat, if appropriate
Spell level/ per level as appropriate
1 shirt, nicely fitted, pressed and bright red.

Eventually dead arcanists aside, I am enjoying the story immensely, though that vision gives a lot more substance to the "End of the World" scenarios painted so far.

 

[Lazybones]

I was tempted to have the elf sitting in a crimson robe when he woke up but I figured that might be too much.

Today we get more insight into everyone's favorite scheming cleric:

* * * * *

Chapter 153

SCENE IN A COFFEEHOUSE


“Coffee and milk, hold the spice, right?”

“One of these days, Travos, I will order something different, just to surprise you.”

The server laughed, and handed over a mug full of steaming liquid across the high bar. The young man took it, grinning as he inhaled deeply of the rich vapors rising off the beverage. “Ahh, that’s the stuff.”

He headed across the crowded interior of the café. The place was one of about a dozen such establishments within a few blocks of the University, in Camar’s Trades Quarter, and like all of them was almost always full of students and young tradesmen, talking, studying, or simply enjoying a few moments respite from the hustle and bustle of the working day.

He was known here, and a number of people greeted him as he made his way to the back of the café, looking for a table. His smile was warm as he clapped a few men on the shoulder, and it grew wider as a few women shot him appraising glances as he passed. But it looked like the place was full, until he saw a familiar face at a tiny table crowded into a niche in the far corner of the coffeehouse. The man had a small collection of student folios spread out on the table before him, but he pushed them aside and made room as the young man approached.

“Ah, Licinius, my studious young friend. How fare you this day?”

Varo grinned and laid down his mug on the table. “Better, now that I’ve had my daily dose of the black bean.”

The older man smiled back. “I hear through the grapevine that you have a new assignment.”

Varo’s smile retreated somewhat. “Yeah, they’re sending me down to the Archives. Dusty old books that nobody’s read in a thousand years. Should be dull as dry toast.”

“I shall certainly miss our philosophical arguments. You’ve been able to make me reevaluate some of my positions.”

Varo laughed. “I find that difficult to believe, Patrides. You have a way of turning a foe around, until he doesn’t even know what side he was originally on.”

Patrides shrugged. “What can I say, the gift of rhetoric is one that almost demands to be shared.”

“I guess I’ll need to move up to the Gold Quarter. The new position will include a promotion to Third Rank, and includes a billet in the rectory of the Great Cathedral.”

“Your career track continues to ascend. I had always marked you as one likely to reach a high rank in the clergy. You have real gifts, Licinius.”

Varo shrugged, embarrassed. He looked around. “I’ll miss the Trades Quarter.”

Patrides lifted his own cup, a beaten old mug that held a deep green tea. “The Gold Quarter isn’t a world away. You could always come visit, and try to cast down my citadels of words over a few cups of that black ooze you favor.”

“I’d like that,” Varo said. He looked up as a young woman walked by. She had reddish-brown hair, cut short, and she looked very familiar. He frowned, trying to place her. She saw some friends, who waved to her. As she went over to their table, Patrides shook his head.

“She is pretty. It is too bad that it cannot be.”

Varo turned back to him. “What do you mean? The church doesn’t require celibacy... at least not for low-ranking acolytes.”

Patrides’s smile was sad. “It is not that, my friend. You know why it cannot be.”

Varo felt a cold feeling in the pit of his gut. He looked up, past the woman, past the tables, past the young people gathered in the coffeehouse, to the large window that faced out toward the street outside. A wind had come up, cold enough to make him shiver even deep inside the warm interior of the café. Something was approaching, a dark shadow that took on substance as he watched in horror.

Within the shadow was a skull, a huge horned skull wreathed in living flame. Twin points of red burned in its eye sockets, impaling Varo with a terrible, knowing stare.

Wrenching his eyes away, he turned back to Patrides. But his friend and mentor was gone, replaced by a blackened skeleton.

He opened his mouth to scream...

* * * * *

Varo opened his eyes with a start. It was dark, but the cleric could sense the breathing of his companions nearby. Shay’s fire had burned itself out, and an almost icy chill had settled inside the cave.

The cleric of Dagos quietly rose, touched his divine focus, and headed deeper into the mine, seeking out a secluded place where he could pray for his spells.