Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)

Chapter 311

Bredan reached for his sword, but in his dazed state he couldn’t quite concentrate enough to summon it to his grasp.

There was another hiss, familiar even to his addled senses, then an eruption of light and sound that momentarily blinded him. He blinked furiously as he struggled to get up, aware that death still stalked him, but his battered limbs still failed to obey his commands.

As the afterimages of the flash cleared, he saw that Kalasien had been the target of the explosions. Two dark marks had been seared into his coat, but while he looked injured, there was fury rather than pain in his eyes as he stared at a point just behind the prone warrior. “What are you doing, you fool!” he shouted in a voice that sounded little like the even-keeled agent that Bredan knew.

“I am doing what I should have done some time ago,” Kavek said.

“Then you can die with him, traitor!” Kalasien said. He lunged forward again, but Bredan had taken advantage of the seconds that the distraction had given him. As the odd club-hand came smashing down again his sword leaped into his hand, and Bredan used the stairs beside him as leverage to plant the hilt down firmly upon the floor while he propped the blade up before him. Kalasien’s eyes widened in surprise as his own momentum impaled him on the sharp shaft of steel. Dark blood welled from the wound, running down the length of the blade before it spattered down onto Bredan’s chest.

Kalasien lifted his hand; the hammer-growth dissolved back into slender fingers. But even they were strange; they were too long and topped with wedge-shaped claws, the skin gray and leathery.

Bredan looked from the hand up to Kalasien’s face, which was beginning to shift subtly, as if there was something under his skin trying to get out. “What are you?” he asked.

“Your death, and that of your friends, is inevitable,” the other said. “You… you may have escaped me… but others will come. Your victory… is merely… temporary…”

He slumped down to the floor, easing to the side as Bredan pushed on the sword. The young warrior got to his feet, staring down at the figure that continued to shift and change as death took him. Within just a few moments the features of the Arreshian agent had been replaced by a hideous gray-skinned visage that looked incomplete, like a sculptor’s work that had been abandoned unfinished. It had lidless red-tinted eyes that were just slightly too large, and a narrow slash of a mouth beneath two slits where its nose should have been.

Bredan stumbled back and looked at Kavek, who had been watching silently during the exchange. He was no longer holding his mace, but something had changed in him too, a subtle shift in demeanor, a difference in the way that he held himself.

“What was that?” Bredan asked.

“It was a doppelganger,” Kavek said. “A shapeshifter. That particular one was named Drekkath.”

“It knew you,” Bredan said. “You were working with it.”

“Yes. We were sent here to infiltrate your group and steal the book, once you had managed to locate it.”

“You admit it? Just like that?”

“There’s no reason to hide it now.”

Bredan lifted his sword, hating that he couldn’t conceal the effort it cost him. “Why?”

“Because I saw what you saw. The book spoke to me as well. I see now that what that thing and its masters want is just another form of slavery for my people.”

“Your people?” Bredan asked.

Kavek closed his eyes for a moment, and his features began to shift as well. In his case, however, it was just a faint shimmering before the illusion that had been concealing his true identity faded.

“You’re a hobgoblin!”

“Yes.”

Bredan blinked and looked again. “Wait a minute… were you…”

“I was there in the Silverpeak Valley, yes.”

“You tried to kill us.”

“Yes. And you tried to kill me. You came closer to success than I did.”

“How long? How long have you been…”

“Since Li Syval. Drekkath replaced the ship’s mate and hired me on as part of the crew.”

“Replaced?”

“He murdered the original.”

“Then… the real Kalasien…”

“Yes. It killed him as well. I was not present at the… event, so I do not have the details, but it happened during the sea journey, shortly before Trev was ‘washed overboard.’”

“Elias…”

“Killed as well.”

“Why… why are you telling me all this now?”

“As I said. I am tired of being a slave. My people hate yours, with good reason. But this sins you have committed against us are nothing compared to what will happen if those I serve get their hands on that book.”

“Sins… but Kavel Murgoth invaded us! Your people pillaged villages, murdered people!”

“We can get into an argument over imperialism and the historical justifications for it later, if we survive the next few minutes.”

“So what do you want?”

“I want you to do what the book wants you to do. To put an end to it. To seal our world away from those outside who seek to use us for their own ends.”

“I never agreed…”

“I know. I heard you address the mummy lord. But I have information that may affect your decision. I know the nature of the foe that you have been struggling against, the force behind Kavel Murgoth, the cult in Severon, and schemes of which you don’t even have the slightest awareness. I don’t know if the visions that the book revealed are true, but I can tell you that those outsiders want access to this world. They want to come here, and their goals are not benign. They wish to kill, to enslave, to rule. My people have aided them in exchange for power. I have seen their true nature, and believe me, you do not want them to get their hands on that book.”

“How can I possibly trust you? You’re an admitted killer, and you came halfway around the world to steal the book for yourself!”

“You shouldn’t trust me. But know this; I could have done nothing just now, and you would be dead instead of Drekkath. I could kill you now.” He lifted a hand, and a soft pulse of energy flickered in his grasp. “As battered as you are, one eldritch blast would do it.”

“Did you arrange for us to be separated? For you and Kalasien to be alone with me in the ruins?”

The warlock snorted. “That was luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Your power, your magic, it comes from these ‘masters’ of yours? What are they?”

“You would call them fiends, demons, or devils. You know more of how this works than you know. You have a few of their progeny as companions.”

“Xeeta and Rodan. You’re like them?”

“The Blooded. I knew nothing of the cult in Li Syval until you spoke of it on the ship, and I know not if the outsiders there are of the same breed that infused their bloodline into my tribe, but it seems we are all fruits from the same tree.”

The tension thickened. Bredan was clearly still too overwhelmed to decide on a specific course of action. The sword waved a bit, but did not come down from its ready position.

Finally, Kavek said, “Can we at least agree to a truce until we find the way out of here? You heard the guardian speak of your friends, and the danger they are in. There appears to be only one way out of here, and there may be further threats between here and the surface.”

Bredan finally let the sword drop, but he kept it in his grasp. “What do I call you?” he asked.

“My real name is Kurok.”

“Kurok. Pretty close.”

“That was another of Drekkath’s ideas. The thing was an expert at duplicity, I will give it that.”

Bredan’s eyes flicked down to the hideous form of the doppelganger. “If you try anything…”

“Yes, yes. We can stipulate that we do not trust each other and skip the various mutual threats. It is in times like these that the differences between your kind and mine do not seem so significant.”

“Would you do anything different, in my position?”

Kurok shook his head. “I have never been in your position. That is why I am here, and why I am doing this.”

“Your magic. It was you who intervened in my fight with the dragonborn chief, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You could have just let me die there. No,” he added before the warlock could respond. “You still needed me alive, didn’t you? To lead you to the book.”

“And I still need you now,” Kurok said.

“And if I refuse to do what the book wants?”

“I suppose that depends on what we find up there.”

“If I find that you did anything to endanger any of my friends, I’ll kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Standing as far apart as the breadth of the stairs would permit, the two of them began the ascent.

Nice! Turn the screw on Bredan's choice a little more - now he could be helping the enemy. Except he seems reasonable...but then Quellan...argh!

Chapter 312

Glori let out a sigh of relief as Quellan completed his prayer of healing. She’d suspected that she’d had a minor concussion from having her head slammed to the marble floor. Kosk had managed to save her from herself; she knew that she never would have forgiven herself if she’d stabbed Quellan. Even though she’d been under the mental control of the naga at the time, she always would have wondered if she could have resisted the creature’s spell if she’d possessed more focus or will.

Her eyes traveled over to the niche where they’d left the dwarf’s body. They’d made a shroud for him out of a few blankets that were so ragged that they were hardly any use as bedding any more. They’d agreed to take a short rest here before moving on, but there was nothing here that they could use to build a cairn, no place they could inter their fallen friend short of going back outside and digging him a grave.

Xeeta noted her attention. “I feel bad just leaving him here,” she said. She looked over at Quellan. “You’re sure there’s nothing…”

“My powers have grown sufficiently for me to be able to raise the dead,” Quellan said. “But the diamonds that the spell consumes are not merely symbolic. They are needed to channel the power of the spell.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll find some,” Rodan said. “From all we know, the Mai’i were crazy rich. There could be a hidden treasure chamber somewhere around here.”

“Still,” Xeeta said. “What if some creature comes along after we leave, and eats him?”

“I don’t think there are any animals here,” Rodan said. “I haven’t even seen any bugs since we entered the inner city, and the carcass of that crab-thing we killed was clean and untouched even after several hours. The gods only know what they ate.”

“Maybe they were in some kind of stasis until we got here,” Quellan suggested. “Or they were summoned by some kind of spell left by the Mai’i to deter intruders.”

“There’s no way of knowing,” Rodan said. He knelt beside his pack. “We’re almost out of supplies. Can you create some more of that magical food?”

“Once I’ve had a full night’s rest,” Quellan said. “For now, I can create some more water, but that will just about deplete my powers.”

The cleric had been using his magic to augment their supplies for some time now, and they had the procedure down. The spell made about ten gallons, more than enough to refill all of their containers. They kept the excess in one of their more intact rain covers until they had all drunk as much as they could and topped off their waterskins, then used what was left to wash off the sweat and dirt and blood from the multiple battles they had fought to get here.

“Gods, I stink,” Xeeta said as she used a cloth to wipe her neck and face.

“We all stink,” Rodan said.

“I’m not fastidious,” Xeeta said. “But I’m tired of this, you know?”

“Yeah,” Glori said. “I’ve been fantasizing about some of the nicer inns I’ve visited lately, in the quiet moments when I haven’t been fighting for my life.”

Rodan shared out a few strips of root stalk he’d foraged in the forest. The supplies that the tabaxi had given them were all completely gone, and the magical food that Quellan created never lasted for more than a day before it spoiled.

“Ugh, are you sure this stuff is edible?” Xeeta asked as she bit off a piece of the root with some effort.

“It’ll keep you alive,” Rodan said.

“I wonder what this place was like, when there were people here,” Glori said, looking up at the vast dome above them.

“It must have taken an incredible effort to build this,” Rodan said. “There’s nothing even close to this in Li Syval.”

“Or anywhere I’ve been,” Glori said. “The Mai’i must have been exceptional engineers.”

“Magic,” Xeeta said. “This was built with magic.”

“Sure, but it had to remain standing after they were done,” Rodan said.

Glori looked over at Quellan, who hadn’t really engaged in their conversation once he had used his magic to create the water. She leaned over to touch him on the arm. “Are you all right?”

He met her eyes and nodded. “I will be. It just…”

Glori didn’t hear the rest of what he was going to say, as her senses suddenly blurred. Colors and light flashed in her head, accompanied by a high-pitched sound that drowned out everything else. For a moment she thought she could see an image within that surge of conflicting inputs, then she was thrust back to reality, so quickly that she felt dizzy and nearly slumped over.

Looking around, she saw that she wasn’t the only one to have been affected.

“What was that?” Rodan asked.

“Not a good sign, whatever it was,” Xeeta groaned.

“It’s Bredan, Bredan and the book,” Quellan said.

“Are you sure?” Glori asked, but even as she said the words, she felt something, an echo of the feeling she’d gotten during the episode. “I think… you may be right,” she said.

“I think we’ve gotten enough rest,” Xeeta said. She wavered visibly when she stood, but there was nothing but determination in her features.

Glori checked the fit of her sword in her scabbard as she got up, a gesture that she’d seen Bredan make many times before he’d learned the trick of making his weapon disappear and reappear at will. She adjusted her lyre on her opposite hip, even though there was little she could do with it, with her reservoir of magic as depleted as the rest of them. But they’d proven that it would take more than that to stop them. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 313

Bredan and Kurok made their way slowly up the stairs. Bredan was having some difficulty. He was exhausted and battered, his stamina flagging, but he tried not to let it show to his dubious companion. The other merely adjusted his pace to match Bredan’s. The hobgoblin was a cipher. He failed to live up to any of the stereotypes that Bredan had heard about his race, or the other goblinoids that he had clashed with since leaving Crosspath. Kurok was obviously intelligent; he had managed to conceal his true identity for months while in close proximity to races that would have probably stabbed him on sight, had they known what he was. Bredan had to admit that he’d been completely fooled, and could not deny that he would almost certainly be dead right now if the warlock hadn’t interrupted the doppelganger’s attack. But there was no way that he could trust him, not with what he now knew.

“A glow up ahead,” Kurok said suddenly, drawing Bredan’s attention back to the stairs. He cursed himself for not paying attention; the pale blue light was clearly visible, brightening what looked like another large chamber at the top of the stairs.

It took another painful minute for them to reach that destination. The room was another spacious vault, its ceiling supported by half a dozen pillars as thick through as he was tall. The pillars left the sides of the room hidden in deep shadow, but he could see that the stairs continued their ascent on the far side of the room from where they had entered.

The light was coming from a broad arch off to their left. After sparing another wary glance at Kurok, Bredan made his way in that direction. When he finally got close enough to peer through the open arch, he just stared in stunned surprise.

The chamber on the far side of the arch was familiar to him. His mind was catapulted back to the first time he had seen it, back in the Vault underneath Severon. That was where he received the mandate to come here, to find the book that was at the heart of everything that had happened to him since he’d left Crosspath all those months ago.

The low pedestal in the center of the room had been empty then, but the one here was not. Bredan had never seen the Elderlore Libram before, not even in his dreams, but he recognized it instantly. It was not that impressive, just a big, thick book bound between rigid covers trimmed in what looked like brass. It sat open, and the glow was coming from the pages, filling the room with a pale radiance. Bredan could just make out slowly shifting letters on the walls illuminated by that light, another evocation of the last time he’d been in a place like this one. But there was no need for another hidden message. The thing that he’d crossed half the world to find was right there, just a stone’s throw from where he stood.

He looked over at Kurok, who was keeping his reaction hidden behind a neutral mask. The hobgoblin sensed his attention and turned to look at him. “This is what you came here for,” Kurok said. “Take the book, leave it, or destroy it. The choice is yours.”

“What are you going to do?” Bredan asked.

“I will wait for the others.” He reached up and made a gesture, and his features returned to those of the human sailor.

“If you harm any of them, I’ll kill you.”

“I have nothing to gain by doing so. I made my decision when I saved you from Drekkath. Now all I can do is see how my choice plays out.”

Bredan stared at him for a long moment before he stepped forward. As he passed through the arch he felt something, a brief tingle that traveled along his skin before dissipating. He continued forward for several more steps before he paused and looked back.

A translucent blue field had appeared within the archway. Through it he could just make out the outline of Kurok’s form, but even as he watched the hobgoblin turned and walked away.

“Bloody hell,” Bredan said, wondering if he’d just made another big mistake.

He considered the barrier for another moment before he finally sighed and walked over to the platform that supported the book. The pale glow enfolded him, and he let the light shining from his sword fade. He kept the sword itself in his hands. His arms were tired and the weight was awkward, but he wasn’t about to let himself go unarmed, here, not even for a few moments.

He carefully circled around the platform until he could see the exposed pages of the book. They were covered with a dense scrawl of complex script. He took a step closer to examine the writing. He did not recognize the language, but the words were still somehow familiar.

As he stared at the writing the words began to swell. Bredan started to draw back in alarm, but the glow coming from the book intensified until he could see nothing else. He covered his face with his left arm and tried to get away, but the brilliant radiance engulfed him until he could see nothing else.

And then, nothing.

Chapter 314

The bright glow shining from Quellan’s shield drove back the shadows as the companions made their way down from the stairs into the underground vault.

“Over there,” Glori said, gesturing toward the glowing arch off to the side of the room. They could all see it clearly, as it was full of a shimmering field of wavering light that appeared to completely block further passage.

“There are stairs continuing further down over there,” Rodan said.

“He’s here,” Glori insisted. “I can feel him.”

“Careful,” Quellan said as she hurried over toward the arch. The others hastened to keep up, the half-orc clanking a bit in his heavy armor. But Glori was still a good fifteen feet from the arch when a figure stepped out from one of the huge pillars to their left.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the new arrival said.

Glori started in surprise, and reached for her sword before the light from Quellan’s shield revealed the newcomer. “Kavek!” she said. “Where’s Bredan?”

“Inside,” the sailor said, nodding toward the arch. “With the Book.”

“What about Kalasien?” Xeeta asked. “Is he with you?”

“He didn’t make it,” Kavek said. “There was a guardian, a powerful magical creature.”

“Yeah, we ran into one of those as well,” Rodan said. He’d circled a bit around to the left, clearing the spaces beyond the other pillars, but he kept one eye on the sailor as he approached.

“This barrier, is there no way past it?” Glori asked.

“I don’t know,” Kavek said.

Glori started forward again, but Kavek took a step toward her to block her. “Stop. He needs to do this alone. We cannot interfere.”

“What are you talking about?” Glori asked.

“Do what?” Xeeta added.

“The book, it spoke to us,” Kavek said. “It needs Bredan to help it. That’s why he’s here.”

“Help it do what?” Glori asked.

“To destroy it. The book is self-aware, it’s intelligent. It knows that it was created to serve as a weapon. The Mai’i, they created this whole place to serve as a kind of prison for it. To keep it under their control. It brought Bredan here so he could set it free. There’s something special about this place, something about the magic, so it had to be here.”

“What happens when the book is destroyed?” Xeeta asked.

“I don’t know,” Kavek said again. “But not doing it would be a disaster.”

“A calamity,” Quellan said.

Kavek looked at him and nodded.

“This all sounds rather strange to me,” Glori said. “I’m going ahead.”

“No, don’t,” Kavek said. “There’s more at stake here than you know. If you just wait, I’ll try my best to make you understand.”

“You’re not really from Zesania, are you?” Quellan asked.

“What?” Kavek said.

“Your accent,” Quellan said. “It’s changed. I never really could place it before, except that there was something familiar about it, something that bothered me even when we were back on the ship.”

“You never really fit in on the Golden Gull,” Xeeta said.

“I was new. You were there when I was hired on.”

“It’s more than that,” the sorceress said. “You’re hiding something.”

“I never wanted to come here,” Kavek said.

“Nevertheless, you are here now,” Quellan said.

“I’m going to see Bredan,” Glori said.

Kavek shifted again to block the bard’s progress. Behind her, her companions tensed. “Kavek, I’ve had a really crappy couple of days,” Glori said. “Don’t make me move you.”

Kavek looked at her, then at the others. “I’m sorry,” he said.

He flicked one hand up, so quickly that they might have missed it if their full attention hadn’t been on him. Something flickered for a moment in the bright light radiating from Quellan’s shield, and then Glori stumbled back, clutching her throat. She turned and tried to say something, but all she could do was gasp for air as she stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Glori!” Quellan yelled, rushing toward her.

Kavek took advantage of the distraction to dart back for the cover of the pillar. Xeeta flung a fire bolt at him, but he ducked and it narrowly missed him. Rodan drew his sword and circled around the pillar from the far side, while Xeeta went the other way in an attempt to keep him in view and pen him in between them.

Quellan let out a growl of frustration as he tried to help Glori. With his magic depleted all he could do was hold her and try to clear her airway as she struggled for breath. He got his waterskin out and tried to force some of its contents into her swollen airway, but she convulsed and most of it sprayed back out onto him.

“Damn it, don’t you leave me, do you hear me!” he shouted at her.

Xeeta heard a loud clatter of steel on steel and rounded the pillar to see Kavek holding off Rodan with a heavy mace that she swore he hadn’t had on him just a few moments ago. She quickly called upon her magic once more. Her Demon was quiescent, her powers drained by the heavy use she’d made of them over the last day or so, but she could still manage another fire bolt that she flung at Kavek’s back. This time her spell connected, the blast searing him in the left shoulder, but while she drew a grunt of pain the sailor did not appear to be seriously injured.

“Give it up, Kavek!” she yelled.

The sailor turned and retreated back toward the corner, moving so that he could see both of them at once. Rodan immediately started to follow him, but before he could close for another strike Kavek lifted his hand and unleashed a pulse of dark energy that streaked out and slammed hard into Xeeta’s gut. Pain shot through her and she staggered back a step. She lifted her rod again in anticipation of a counter, but before she could draw upon her magic a second bolt streaked out and clipped her on the shoulder, almost exactly opposite where she’d blasted the sailor just a moment before. The impact of the eldritch blast spun her around, and she dropped to the ground as the darkness rushed back in.

“Not… bloody… again,” she managed to gasp out before she lost consciousness.

Kurok turned back toward Rodan, expecting another attack, but even so he was caught off guard by the intensity of the tiefling’s assault. The warlock brought his mace up to parry, but the other man’s blade moved in a blur, carving past his defenses and plunging deep into his body. Kurok coughed heavily, tasting the blood as it filled his mouth. He swung his mace, trying to give himself some space, but managed only a weak blow that barely jolted his foe. But Rodan’s eyes flashed red, the only warning that Kurok got before a surge of searing flames erupted all around him. He tried to get clear of the inferno, but the tiefling’s hellish rebuke clung to him, burning and burning until he finally toppled over onto the floor.

His vision remained clouded as he looked up, barely able to see his opponent standing above him. He laughed, but it was cut off as another bloody spasm of coughing shook him.

“Ironic,” he managed to say before the shadows caught him.

Chapter 315

Glori’s struggles to breathe eased as she began to lose consciousness. Desperate, Quellan channeled a trickle of divine power into her—all he could do, with his higher-order magic fully depleted. The spare the dying cantrip worked, stabilizing her, and her breathing eased as he let out a sigh of relief.

He looked over at Rodan, who was tending to Xeeta. “How is she?” he asked.

“Unconscious,” Rodan said. “She’s absorbed a lot of damage in the last few fights.”

Quellan carefully laid Glori down, pillowing her cloak under her head before he hurried over to them. He knelt and touched the stricken tiefling’s forehead, passing that faint spark of divine blessing into her as well.

“She’ll be all right,” he said. “But there is nothing more I can do for either of them at the moment. They should wake in a few hours. What about him?” he asked, nodding toward the fallen form of Kavek.

“I blasted him pretty good. I don’t know if he’s still breathing. I was focused on Xeeta, I don’t give a damn about that lying bastard. All this time he was pretending to be just a simple sailor, hiding the fact that he was a bloody spellcaster.”

“He might have information,” Quellan said.

Rodan nodded and went over to the body. He nudged it with his boot, turning him over enough to get a look at his face. “Quellan,” he said. “You’d better take a look at this.”

Quellan was making the unconscious tiefling comfortable, but at Rodan’s words he quickly got up and joined him. He drew in a surprised breath as he saw what had set the ranger off.

“It looks like he was hiding more than we knew,” the cleric said.

“He was a bloody hobgoblin,” Rodan snarled. “He look familiar to you at all?”

Quellan had left his shield over by Glori, but he bent to take a closer look. “He can’t be…”

“The last time I saw this face, he was running because I’d just shot him with an arrow.”

“That’s… there’s obviously more going on here than we thought.”

“Yeah. And Bredan’s likely in more trouble than we thought.”

He walked away from their fallen foe, toward the shimmering barrier. “Do you think it’s solid?” Rodan asked.

“I don’t know. But even if it’s not, it could kill you just for trying.”

Rodan reached into his pocket and took out a silver piece. “We have to try.”

But before he could toss the coin, a hissing sound from behind them drew their attention back around. Rodan scanned the dark corners of the room before his eyes settled on the dead warlock. Those eyes widened as another sound issued from the corpse, and the chest lifted.

“I thought he was dead!” he said, drawing his sword as he came back over to their fallen foe.

“He is,” Quellan said. “This is dark magic, necromancy.”

“He’s not going to get up and try to kill us again, is he?” Rodan asked.

“I don’t think so,” Quellan said. “I think someone is trying to send us a message.”

The cleric dropped to one knee and leaned over the body, while Rodan circled around to take up a warding position on the other side.

Kavek’s chest fell, and his lips moved slightly as the air left his body. “Tell Bredan… sever the link…”

“What’s he talking about?” Rodan asked.

“Presumably it has something to do with what the book asked him to do,” Quellan said.

“Kosk Stonefist… live again…” the corpse said.

“Kosk?” Quellan asked. “What do you mean? Damn it, speak up!” He stood and looked around at the walls of the vault. “Just tell us what you bloody want, you bloody book!”

Both men waited, but there was no further answer.

“All right, I’m going in,” Rodan said.

“I can’t leave Glori and Xeeta,” Quellan said.

“Agreed. What should I tell Bredan?”

“Tell him what we know. What Kavek told us, what the book said through his corpse.”

“And Kosk? Do you think it was telling the truth?”

“I don’t know,” Quellan said. “I don’t trust the book, don’t trust this place. But we have to trust Bredan. Tell him that, tell him that we trust him.”

Rodan nodded, and turned toward the barrier. He adjusted his grip on his sword, took a steeling breath. Then, after one last glance back at the watching half-orc, he started forward. The barrier shimmered and rippled as he came into contact with it, then he stepped through and vanished.

Now we find out that Rhodan master minded everything. He is actually proud of his heritage

Neurotic said:

Now we find out that Rhodan master minded everything. He is actually proud of his heritage

Click to expand...

That would actually have been a cool twist! Wish I'd thought of it!

* * *

Chapter 316

Bredan’s awareness returned within a sea of blackness.

He had no sense of his body, or anything else; he was just a disembodied presence within the black. He felt a momentary surge of panic, but without arms or legs to move or a heart to pound in his chest the sensation quickly faded.

After an interminable time he became aware of something, a tiny, distant point of light within the utter darkness. It wasn’t much, just a pinprick, but being the only thing that was different, it drew his entire focus. He had no idea how to move in this strange place, but as he continued to concentrate on the dot it began to grow bigger. It became first a sphere, then as he got closer it began to differentiate until he could see that it was a web, a complex matrix of glowing points and connecting lines that formed a bright bubble in the dark.

He continued to draw nearer, and the web grew increasingly complex until he could not even begin to count the nodes that were connected to it. His attention focused on one of those brighter points of light and it began to swell, until he could see that it too was made up of hundreds if not thousands of interconnected loci. It all quickly became overwhelming, and as the pressure on his awareness intensified, he drew back until he could once more perceive the whole from a safe distance.

He studied it for an interval. Time seemed to have no meaning here, or at least he lacked any point of reference to mark its passage. He gradually became aware of something else. There were other connections to the web, but these were coming from outside it. There were tiny threads, many of them, some bright, and some dark. He could not see where they originated; they all simply faded beyond his perceptions at some undefined distance from the web. But the connections on the other end were more distinct. He closed in again as he studied them, until he could how the threads split off into thousands of tiny tendrils that burrowed into the individual nodes, the tiny distinct points of light that he now knew were themselves additional webs that continued to subdivide in added complexity. Wary of being caught once more, he carefully studied the outside connections. They seemed to pulse with activity, minute beats that passed through them, sometimes going in, more often going out.

Bredan suddenly realized what he was seeing. This was a depiction of what the book had tried to tell him. The nodes were the lives that populated his world, and the threads and their root-like connectors were the presence of the outside entities that the Elderlore Libram wanted him to sever.

“Is this just an illusion, or the reality?” he asked. He could not speak, of course, but he pulsed the question out as a thought. But there was no response.

He found his attention drawn to another of the nodes. It wasn’t through any active effort on his part; that one looked much like the others from the outside, with nothing special to draw his focus. But he did not resist the subtle guidance that pushed him in that direction.

As he got closer, he could see that this node was different. It was dimmer than the others, lacking the layers within layers that he’d seen from the others that he’d examined. But it was connected to the web with a particularly dense network of links, and the outside connections were so thick that they almost obscured it entirely once he got close enough to see the almost-invisible threads. The node appeared to be inactive, with almost none of the pulses that he’d seen elsewhere.

“This is you, isn’t it?” he asked. Again there was no response.

“So what is it you want me to do?”

There was a slight tremor of power. As the sensation passed through him Bredan looked and saw that he now held a blazing sword of light in his hand. His own form was still indistinct—the hand and the arm it was attached to was just a vague outline against the darkness—but the sword was almost painfully distinct, glowing with such intensity that he could only focus upon it briefly.

Knowledge came to him with the surety of instinct, and he knew the choice he had before him. The sword could cut through the node here, and destroy the book in the process. But he could do it with the precision of a surgeon or the violence of a warrior. The former would separate the book’s node from the network but leave the rest of the connections intact. The second would not harm the other nodes—the sword lacked the power to harm them—but would unravel the tendrils that connected to it from outside. Somehow he knew that using the sword was the only way out of this place.

“I didn’t want this choice,” he said. Again only silence answered, though the sword seemed to pulse slightly in his hand. He wondered what would happen if he threw it into the void. Would it form again in his hand, or would he be cursed to wander this null-space for an eternity?

“Bredan.”

The voice was soft, nothing more than a whisper, but the sound of it was so jarring here that at first Bredan thought he’d imagined it. But then it came again, insistent in its intrusion into this otherwise silent space.

“Bredan? Damn it, can you hear me?”

Bredan searched out the source of the voice. At first it seemed an impossible task, but then he found himself drawn to a node situated quite close to the one that he’d identified as holding the book. He zoomed in on it, shooting past the outermost layers until he was staring at a small globe of light. The voice was coming from it. Bredan recognized it.

“Rodan?”

“Bredan! Where are you?”

“I’m here. Inside the book, or someplace…”

“Damn it! Snap out of it, we need you…”

Bredan realized that the tiefling could not hear him. Through an effort of will he pressed further, until the node took on definition. He came upon an invisible barrier at its boundary, keeping him from getting any closer, but from that vantage he could just make out a shimmering globe within the light. Figures moved within that globe, and as he continued to focus, they took on definition.

He was looking at the vault, staring down at it from some point above the floor. He could see the platform that held the book, and in a jarring shift of perspective see saw himself, standing motionless in front of it. Both he and the book were surrounded by a pale blue glow, a sphere of light that formed a discrete bubble in the center of the room.

Rodan was on the edge of that circle. He was clearly trying to get closer, but was being repelled by a field similar to the boundary that held Bredan’s consciousness at bay. He could see the frustration on the tiefling’s face as he called out Bredan’s name again.

“I’m here,” Bredan said again, but there was no flicker of recognition to suggest the other man could hear him. But after a moment Rodan seemed to gather himself.

“Bredan, I hope you can hear me,” he said. “We made it here… most of us, anyway. Quellan, Glori, and Xeeta are just outside. The women are hurt, but Quellan says they’ll recover. Kosk… Kosk died, Bredan. He and the rest of Sond’s sailors. Quellan brought him back once, but there’s nothing more that he can do for him now. There were guardians… and Kavek. Kavek attacked us. He’s a spellcaster of some sort.”

Bredan felt a momentary surge of anger, but like all other emotions in this place it quickly faded. He focused on Rodan’s words once more.

“Bredan, the book reached out to us. It told us to tell you to sever the link. It said that it could bring Kosk back if you did. Maybe it was lying… I don’t know. But we wanted to tell you, let you know that we trust you. Gods, I hope you can hear me, that there’s a part of you in there that can hear me. Do what you have to do, and come back to us, Bredan.”

Bredan allowed himself to drift back from the node. He could still hear Rodan talking, but the voice faded as he returned to the outside perspective he’d had when he’d initially approached the glowing matrix. He circled around it, circumnavigating the outer perimeter of the web. He looked at the nodes, which he now understood represented all of the life of the world, his world. Or maybe ‘represented’ was the wrong word. Somehow, in this place that the book had taken him, he was literally watching life at it happened. He could see flickers, individually faint, but taken as a whole an ongoing reinvention of the web. Some of the nodes faded, while others slowly grew brighter as new points of light erupted within them. It was a complex, ever-changing mosaic. He knew he could spend his entire life studying it and would never be able to grasp more than its barest outline.

He focused again on the threads that connected to the network from outside. He could see that they too were changing. Growing, for the most part; probing deeper into the web, extending fresh tendrils that burrowed into the nodes, taking root until they could begin siphoning off the tiny flickers of energy that flowed out into the outer threads before they disappeared with them into someplace else.

Bredan had no idea how long he remained there, watching. The sword remained steady in his grasp. It did not grow heavy the way a mundane weapon would, but he never forgot that it was there.

“I can only be what I am,” he said.

He lifted the sword, and made his decision.

Chapter 317

A sharp wind blew over the ledge where Bredan sat, his back to the reassuring bulk of the stone wall that rose up high above him. The wind was bitingly cold, but he barely felt it.

His gaze traveled over the city that stretched out below him. Severon hadn’t changed in his absence; a sea of people still went about their daily lives, ignorant for the most part of the events that he and his companions had been drawn into. Smoke rose from thousands of chimneys, joining to form a pall over the city that seemed to be immune to the wind.

A figure emerged from the large open gates that stood fifty paces along the length of the wall to his right. She looked around for a moment before she spotted him and headed his way.

“The others were looking for you,” Glori said.

“I just needed a little time alone,” Bredan replied.

She nodded and sat down next to him. “Nice view,” she said.

“Are you worried about what we’re about to do?”

“No. Not really. I know that there was some concern that it might be a trap. A last game played upon us feeble mortals.”

“We wouldn’t be here at all without that last gift,” Glori said. “I mean, we’d still be in Weltarin, probably still futzing about in the jungle. Assuming some giant beast didn’t eat us.”

“We took on everything that continent threw at us,” Bredan said.

“Aye, we did. I do feel a little bad about leaving Sond and her crew behind, though.”

“From what Quellan said, they were already well along toward building a new ship,” Bredan said. “He’s staying in touch with her with that spell of his, right?”

“Yeah. Still. We got back in the blink of an eye, and they’ll be lucky to be back sometime next year.”

“How are you feeling, otherwise?” he asked. “No… lasting effects?”

“Nothing. It’s weird. When I woke up… I told you this earlier, right? The pattern was just there, in my mind. When Konstantin first teleported us here—gods, that feels like an eternity ago—I never would have guessed that I would be doing it myself someday.”

“And here we are.”

“Yeah. What about you? Any lingering bits of ancient sentient book bouncing about in your psyche?”

“If it’s there, I can’t feel it,” Bredan said. “Ever since the magic disappeared, I haven’t felt anything.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I’ll try to throw up a shield when some bastard tries to shove a sword in my face, but overall… I never wanted the power, never let it define who I am.”

“There’s nothing else?” she prodded. “Quellan says that you’ve been avoiding him.”

He looked over at her, but didn’t say anything.

“He doesn’t blame you, you know. None of us do.”

“I know. It’s just… I wonder what might have happened, if I’d made a different choice.”

“We can’t let ourselves think like that. Those kinds of thoughts are like quicksand; one you get caught it’s really hard to get out. Quellan said that the soul has a choice. He says that where Kosk is now, he’s at peace. If we’d been able to bring him back again… he’d have had to face judgment in Ironcrest for his past crimes. This way he died a hero. He’ll always live on in our memories that way.”

She coughed suddenly, and turned to clear her throat. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just the smoke. Wind’s blowing this way.” She rubbed at her throat.

“Still sore?”

“Not really. Just… sometimes I flash back to it, you know? It’s funny, almost. I’ve been hacked, blasted, wounded to within an inch of my life, but what traumatized me most was a bit of poison flung into my face.”

“It’s awful to feel yourself dying and be unable to stop it,” Bredan said.

“Yeah, well, that bastard got his.” She looked at his face. “What is it?”

Bredan shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just… it was a waste. He had to know that he couldn’t beat you alone, and none of it ultimately had any effect on what happened. It didn’t change my decision, Rodan coming in after me. Kurok threw his life away.”

“He almost killed two of us,” Glori said.

“I know. I told him, that if he hurt any of you I’d kill him myself.”

“Seems like he was doomed either way then,” Glori said.

“He attacked you, and he was complicit in multiple murders. He got what he deserved. But Kurok also seemed to honestly want what was best for his people. And he saved my life several times, including at the end with Kalasien—the doppelganger.”

“Maybe… maybe he didn’t see any other way out,” Glori said. “I mean, his secret was out, and whatever you chose, there wasn’t going to be many alternatives for him. He not only betrayed us, but his former masters as well. I can’t imagine there was any scenario where he’d be able to go back.”

“Yeah. I understand what you’re saying. I just keep thinking about him.”

She clapped him on the leg. “Empathy is not a weakness, Bredan. In fact, it’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.” She looked back up the mass of the wall behind them. “Maybe we can do something to accomplish what he sought. Come on, they’re waiting.”

He got up, the heavy steel of his dwarf-forged armor clanking a bit as he picked up his sword and slung it across his back. The armor had been repaired and polished, and now almost seemed to glow in the early winter sunlight. The light also flashed on Glori’s hand, where a platinum band set with three large diamonds circled her fourth finger.

She noted his attention and grinned. “Let’s go.”

The interior of the Monastery of the Quiet Path lived up to its name; the open buildings were silent and empty as they made their way through the gates and into the central courtyard. The monks had all been temporarily moved down into the city, part of the secrecy that had accompanied the planning for this mission.

Glori glanced over at him as they made their way up the steps toward the main building. “You want to say a few words to the group? You’re as responsible for bringing them all together as anyone.”

Bredan shook his head. “When it comes to inspiring the troops, I’m going to leave it to you,” he said. “I’m just a warrior with a big sword.”

She snorted and hurried up the steps.

The diminutive figure of the abbot was waiting for them in the doorway that led into the great hall. “The others are in the Chamber of Reflection,” Anaeus said.

“Thank you, abbot,” Glori said.

“May the gods favor your path,” the abbot said. His eyes lingered on Bredan for a moment, then he stepped past them out into the open air.

They could hear voices and the sounds of activity before they made their way into the large room where everyone was gathered. For a moment the din continued when they came in, but as they noticed them it faded into a hush of anticipation.

Gregoros Konstantin came over to them. “We’re ready,” he said.

Glori and Bredan stepped forward together. Those gathered were clustered in groups around the edges of the room, staying well clear of the complex design that had been marked upon the floor in the center of the room. Tables had been brought in to hold the gear that had been prepared for their mission, but they were mostly empty now, as everyone had what they needed on their person. A few people double-checked the fit of a piece of armor or checked the slide of a sword in a scabbard before they turned to the new arrivals with looks of expectation on their faces.

Bredan looked around the room, taking it all in. Familiar faces, all of them. Konstantin rejoined his colleague, Arcanist Javerin from the Apernium. Both wizards were clad in practical robes with their pouches of spell components and other arcane accessories close at hand. Off to the left, Embrae Kelandras and Majerion stood together. The monk met Bredan’s eyes and nodded in sympathy, while the bard’s fingers caressed a new silver lyre, idly strumming a few notes. The two elves stood opposite Darik Broadshield and Goran Thunderhammer of the Ironcrest dwarves. Both dwarves were clad in suits of heavy armor similar to the suit Bredan wore. The younger warrior carried a battle axe with a broad crescent blade, but the priest of Sorevas, recently arrived from the dwarven city, looked no less fierce with his heavy mace and shield emblazoned with the burning brand of his patron.

Finally, Bredan’s gaze turned to his friends. They all looked recovered from their ordeal in Weltarin, with new clothes and gear, their physical wounds healed. But he knew it would take longer for all of the scars of that journey to fade. But Xeeta, Rodan, and Quellan all looked to him, and Bredan saw only trust and faith in their eyes.

Everyone was waiting, presumably for him to speak, but he only turned and gestured Glori forward.

The bard walked up to the edge of the teleportation circle that she had scribed. She was confident, assured, up to the challenge of talking to men and women older and more experienced than she. They had all changed, Bredan thought. Forged in the fire of shared danger and deadly ordeals. They’d each gained in power, but it was only when they were together that they were able to reach their true potential.

“Centuries ago, our peoples joined against a common enemy,” Glori said. “An alliance against a foe that represented an existential threat to the three kingdoms.”

“Now, a new threat has arisen. We stand on the cusp of a moment that has come to this world before. The Mai’i failed to deal with this danger, and it ultimately destroyed them.”

“The Elderlore Libram was created to serve its masters, to aid them in their pursuit of knowledge and power. But what it recognized was that power also has a cost. There are entities out there in the worlds beyond, ancient things that want what we have. They crave power too, and see our world as just another prize to be won, its peoples merely as potential slaves… or fodder.”

“We’ve all faced these things. They were responsible for the attack on Ironcrest, for the attempt to seize control of the Reserve of Tal Nadesh. They were behind the violent ambition of Kavel Murgoth, and the deaths that followed his useless war. Those attempts were all defeated, but they weren’t the end of it. We now know that these entities, these outsiders, have agents in all of our kingdoms. They have infiltrated us with tendrils of influence and intrigue. They seek to undermine us, to sunder our unity and use our own weaknesses against us.”

“The Elderlore Libram thought that the best way to protect us was to sever ourselves from the worlds beyond ours. But the price for that choice was too high to pay.” She glanced aside at Bredan, met his eyes for a moment. “But the book gave us a last gift.” She extended a hand toward the complex pattern at her feet. “I cannot tell you exactly what we will find when we step through this doorway. It would be naiveté in its most extreme form to assume that this fight will be won with one bold stroke. But we have learned what we can, prepared as best we can. We aren’t just going to sit back and let this foe weaken our defenses until it is ready to strike again. Old allies have come together, and together we will put an end to this danger that threatens all of us.”

“Today, friends, we strike back.”

She gestured and they all came forward, forming a ring at the edge of the circle. Her eyes traveled around to each of them, confirming that they were all ready. Finally, her gaze returned to Bredan. “Ready?” she asked.

He met her eyes and smiled. “Let’s do this.”

She strummed her lyre, filling the air with a soft melody. The markings upon the floor began to glow, and a shimmer materialized within the circle.

“Let’s kick some ass,” Glori said. She stepped forward, followed immediately by all of the others. As they entered the shimmering field they glowed for a moment and then disappeared. As the last of them vanished the light coming from the portal briefly intensified until it dissolved into nothing, leaving the chamber empty.


THE END

Well, there it is. Another story finished. As always, it ended up longer and more complicated than I planned when I started (over 400,000 words altogether!). Obviously, I could have kept it going past this final cliffhanger, but I’ve been writing this story for almost two years and this felt like a good place to leave our heroes, with one quest finished and another about to begin. I had toyed with keeping the ending vague, leaving it unclear whether Bredan had in fact accepted the Libram’s offer, but I ultimately decided to go with the current ending.

I hope you all enjoyed Forgotten Lore. My plan is to turn the story into novels at some point, trimming down the random encounters and removing the D&D-specific elements. Who knows, maybe I’ll even come back and write a twelfth book of the story someday, like I did with the Shackled City and Doomed Bastards stories. If and when any of that does happen, I’ll post an update here. I’d be happy to give any readers of this story hour a free copy of the final work.

Until then, you can read my stuff at Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Lazybones) or Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Kenneth-McDonald/e/B005F5I9XA). Thanks for reading!