by Ian Rodgers
It slunk closer, moving a touch faster to maintain a decent distance from its prey. Neither of them noticed. Good. That was good.
Yet a part of the creature that had not existed until the green-hued one had accidentally blessed it yearned for the maiden to notice it. To acknowledge its child. It wanted mother-…
No! Not mother! Just a target. Prey. That was all she was! So what if she had given it a soul? She had not meant to. A mistake. An accident, born of her miraculous defeat of the Necromancer in the sandy city. There was no connection between them. No bond.
No, it was best that it had no attachments to this potential Chosen One. After all, fondness and compassion -curse these new emotions!- would make things harder when it was given the order to end her life.
The creature watched, and followed behind the green one.
∞.∞.∞
“Grandpa! She’s coming! She’s coming!” a young girl cheered and she bounced up and down in front of a mirror. Instead of her reflection, the glass showed an image of a blonde haired half-orc slowly making her way into the Aldani Gorge astride a beautiful warhorse.
“Can I go get her? Please? Pretty please?”
“No, my dear. She must come to us, first.” The voice that replied to the child was not really there. It was made not through vocal chords or fleshy bits, but through the crackling hiss of telepathy, forced into the air via magic.
The little girl pouted, before brightening up. “Can I wear my dress when she does come?”
“Of course. You have to look your best for our guest, after all,” the voice-that-was-not said. “She’s very important, after all.”
“I know, right?! Her soul is so beautiful… so silvery and flowery…” the little girl said with a sigh of admiration. “I really, really want her, Grandpa.”
“I’m afraid you can’t have this one. At least, not yet,” the false voice said. “But, once she saves the world, I’m sure if you ask politely she might allow you to buy her corpse once she dies.”
“Awww! But I want her now!” the child demanded petulantly, stamping a foot in anger.
A dark, rasping chuckle echoed through the room. “You cannot have her, my dear, but perhaps you can play with the uninvited guest?”
The girl’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh?” She turned to the mirror and stared into it.
“You must be going senile, Grandpa, because there’s no one else there!”
“Not at all. There, see?” a charred and skeletal finger reached out of the darkness and tapped against the mirror’s surface at a point several feet behind the half-orc and horse. The girl frowned as she peered at it.
There was nothing there. No, wait, there was something, but it was invisible. No, wait, not invisible…
“It’s pretending to be nothing?” the child guessed.
“It’s a piece of the Void that is pretending to be real,” the telepathic voice replied. “Your mirror cannot accurately detect it, as whatever this thing is, it’s immune to magic. But that defense is a weakness. That little blob of ‘nothingness’ that the mirror detected is moving, thus, proving something is in fact there.”
“Wow! You’re so smart, Grandpa! And not at all senile!”
The boney finger retreated from the mirror. “Thank you. Now, why not go and play for a bit? I will continue to observe our guest, and call for you when she is ready.”
“Yay!” the little girl cheered, before running out of the shadow-filled room. Wrapped within the darkness, the figure known as ‘Grandpa’ shifted.
He stared into the mirror, watching everything. One of the Divine Lilies was about to arrive. Now, how should he proceed?
Chapter 3: The Stone Pit
Dora’s eyes swept from side to side, observing everything around her. The walls of the canyons seemed to close in on her, and it was with a heavy heart that Dora feared she might be claustrophobic. Or maybe everything just felt different being alone. The last time she’d ventured into the Aldani Gorge, it had been with Scarrot and a few others from the Menagerie in order to catch a rare Golden Mole.
Dora shivered as she felt eyes upon her, and she nervously looked behind her. Still nothing there, but that didn’t mean much. Starspot neighed softly, and Dora reached out to stroke her mane.
“It’s alright,” she murmured, trying to convince herself as well as the horse that everything would be fine.
A memory from a year back when she had visited the Gorge resurfaced, and she cursed silently to herself that she’d never asked if the dragon that had moved into the area had ever left.
Dora then shifted her thoughts to the path she had taken through the Aldani Gorge the last time she’d visited. Most of that was a blur, but a few trails and landmarks stuck out in her mind. She followed the mica studded stone wall towards the forest of stone spires and petrified trees, and wandered through the remains of an ancient river bed.
But the further she traveled into the Gorge, the less her memories helped her. She’d and the Menagerie’s crew had only stayed on the outskirts, not willing to delve too deep, and had left as soon as they’d found the animal they were looking for.
She was starting to understand why this place was so reviled. Although what few monsters crossed her path were easily dissuaded with spells and crossbow bolts, a heavier, more oppressive atmosphere filled the Gorge the deeper she went.
“This whole place feels off,” the Healer muttered, feeling the twisting tides of the ambient mana around her. There was a flavor to the air that felt dirty and wrong. Corrupted in some ways that hid beneath the Earth Element energy that flowed thick through the canyon.
“Now, if I was the master of a Necromancer, where would I hide in a place like this?” Dora mused aloud as she came to a fork in the path. Both roads were identical. Trying to decide which to take, she frowned, deep in thought. An idea struck her, and she reached out with her senses to examine the mana around her.
“Hmm. Dark magic,” she muttered, realizing the source of the corruption in the air. She glanced about, and turned towards the left path, directing Starspot down it. This way lay the thickest concentration of Dark magic. It was a long shot, but hopefully by following this trail she would come across a sign of the client’s presence.
And now everything about the canyon’s sense of wrongness fell into place. The area was suffused with Miasma, the side effect of potent Dark magic residing in a single place for too long. Animals would steer clear of any place that started to develop like this.
The realization made her pause. The last time she’d felt this much Miasma had been in the Saludan city of Rahmal’Alram. There, its presence had been due to an influx of Creeping Rot, a disease that created zombies, which had been introduced thanks to the client’s rogue Necromancer. Here in the Gorge, however, she hadn’t seen or sensed any Undead around yet. So what on Erafore could be generating this much Miasma?
Nonetheless, she traveled deeper into the Gorge, the sense of wrongness increasing until it surpassed the Miasma she’d encountered in Saluda. By the time dusk began to fall it took all of her animal handling skills to keep Starspot from bolting in fear. As the half-orc steered her mount over to a relatively open spot to make camp, she knew she’d have to take drastic measures.
“Easy, girl! Easy!” Dora cooed, stroking Starspot as she dismounted. “I think I have an idea that might help you. Hold still.”
She took a deep breath and placed a hand on Starspot’s nose. “Fear not the Dark. Resist the temptations of sin. In life, let Light shine on all! Protection from Evil!”
Silver light danced across the horse’s body as the spell sunk in. It was a spell used to fortify the mind and body from the effect of Dark magic. For animals, who were sensitive to matters that humans and other sapients were not, fear was a natural response to the unnaturalness that was the Dark Element. And since as the Gorge was full of the stuff at the moment, some sort of protection against the fear-producing miasma that accompanied the Darkness was vital.
Dora had spent
a few days learning this spell after she’d survived the encounter with the Necromancer back in Rahmal’Alram. She did not want to be that weak and helpless when facing Dark magic ever again. And now her efforts paid off in spades, as Starspot immediately settled down, the mind-altering effects of the Gorge’s miasma no longer taking hold.
Dora frowned, though. Her spellwork was sloppy. The Protection from Evil spell wouldn’t last more than an hour or two. She wasn’t used to using spells with long term effects. Usually, when her spells were used, it was to heal a wound and that was that. And she was absolutely terrible when it came to enchanting things. She could never get the spell to stick to the object for longer than a few seconds, so placing the spell on Starspot’s reins or bridle to keep her calm throughout the night wouldn’t work.
With a sigh, the Healer came to a decision she wasn’t proud of, but had to make all the same. She led Starspot over to a spot where she dug a wooden stake into the ground, and tied Starspot’s reins to. Nodding in satisfaction, Dora turned to her beloved horse.
“Sorry about this. Sleep,” she commanded. Starspot let out a horsey yawn and quickly dozed off. The Healer sighed in relief. Hopefully, Starspot would sleep peacefully through the night this way. It hurt her to put her closest friend under a spell like that, but what else could she do?
The half-orc quickly began to move around the clearing, setting up her tent as well as the various ward stones to erect a simple but effective barrier around her campsite. It wouldn’t stop anything from entering the perimeter, but it would make the area seem to be empty, and underlined with a basic Compulsion charm to ignore the area, most animals and monsters would avoid her camp.
Wiping her brow, Dora looked over the campsite and nodded in approval at her handiwork. Years of doing the same with the Menagerie had stood her in good stead. The half-orc couldn’t help but look over at Starspot a mite enviously, though. She was sleeping peacefully, and all signs pointed to her not growing restless even after Protection from Evil wore off.
Dora glanced at her tent longingly as a yawn threatened to escape her lips but held it in and went over the wards and defenses one more time. She was concerned about safety, and she was all alone for the first time since she could remember. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
After several close examinations of the various wards, it was with a begrudging amount of acceptance that everything that had been set up had been done so to the best of her ability. Had she been a mage trained in the Occult style of spell casting she might have noticed places to improve the wards, but no, her talent lay in Divine magic.
The light was starting to fail, dusk giving way to night. The moon was out, a waxing gibbous that lit the sky with pale light. Dora had always found the name ‘gibbous moon’ hilarious. It always brought to mind images of one of those monkeys she’d read about in books mooning passing travelers.
Dora looked at the sky, well aware she could not continue to fret. So, with a weary heart she slipped into her tent and got ready for the evening. She did not remove her clothes, keeping them on as she wiggled her way into her sleeping bag. At her side, her new crossbow sat within arm’s reach. Unloaded, but ready to be used in case of emergencies. And a knife in a sheath was carefully hidden beneath the stuffed sack she was using as a pillow.
Once everything seemed to be in order she allowed herself to relax and let the tension and tiredness of the day lull her into a fitful slumber.
∞.∞.∞
“It’s been a while, child. I am surprised to see you here again.”
With a start, Dora sat up, looking around wildly, heart hammering in her chest. Immediately she knew she was not where she had fallen asleep. Panic swiftly gave way to confusion, and then to resignation as she realized where she’d ended up.
She lay on the floor of a large metal cage, the bars deceptively thin and widely spaced, but the thought of even trying to escape never once got further than an idle thought, as the figure closely watching the cage buried any such notions beneath layers of fear and reverence.
Tall and wrapped head to toe like a mummy in iron chains, whilst seated upon a throne made of countless cages, was none other than Naliot, the Chained God, patron of slavers, jailers, and those who trapped and imprisoned others. He was a harsh god, feared more than loved, but he was strong, and his influence in the Dreadlands was not to be underestimated.
The god loomed over the cage Dora was in, and she felt small and insignificant underneath his glowing grey eyes. She cautiously looked around the area. The audience chamber where Naliot reigned had not changed since she had last seen it. Dark brown wood panels decorated the area, with bird cages suspended from chains hanging from the ceiling, while many more square cages littered the floor, stacked upon one another so they formed parodies of furniture. And within many of them trapped souls cried and begged for freedom, their voices creating a cacophony of misery that set Dora’s teeth on edge. Other cages acted as lanterns, filled with flickering orange and red flames that cast dancing shadows over everything.
“I do not understand. Why have you called me here?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat and stared up at the lord of slaves.
“Twas not I that called for you, but another. The fact you appeared here, in my domain, is a surprise to myself as well.”
“Why would I appear before you if another god wished for my presence? And who would desire to speak to a mere Healer like myself?” Dora demanded. She instantly regretted her sharp tone as Naliot glared at her and shifted loudly, the metal links of his bondage screaming louder than the damned souls around him.
“Your anger is understandable, and you have gone through much hardship recently, so I will not hold your words and tone against you. However, this is your sole warning,” the Chained God declared. “As for why you were not taken to the realm of the god who summoned you, it is a simple answer. You reject them and their teachings. As such, their attempts to communicate with you failed, and their efforts deposited you here, before the deity you have the most connection to.”
Dora recoiled, disgust plastered on her face. The thought that her soul was bonded to something like Naliot was revolting. The god merely laughed at that, her expression and thoughts amusing.
“Yes, it is quite sickening that a babe with a head full of stars and silly dreams would consider me a better patron than the Divine Family.”
The half-orc opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut as just quickly. In part, this was because she just barely managed to recall that the one in front of her was not a kind individual with her well-being in mind, but also because the revelation of who had tried to reach her had sent a tremor through her soul.
She gritted her teeth and growled, her puny fangs seeming much more threatening in the distorted light of the room. The Divine Family wanted to speak with her? They wished to commune with her now, after so many years of agonizing silence?!
“No!” Dora roared. “How dare they?! I refuse to speak with them!”
Naliot chuckled. “See? You reject them so fiercely. And even without knowing what they seek to speak with you about.”
“They didn’t speak to me when I begged and prayed as I was bullied. They didn’t answer me when my mother was murdered. And they didn’t do anything when the only people left I care about were taken by foul magic!” Dora shouted furiously. “So let their entreaties go to the Hells, for all I care!”
As she sat there in the cage, huffing and collecting her composure, Naliot merely watched the half-orc. A calculating gleam was in his eyes, and if Dora had noticed it, she might have felt worried.
“If you truly refuse to speak with your old pantheon, who am I to judge?” the Chained God said with a shrug once she got herself under control. “Might I make a suggestion, in that case?”
Dora looked up, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Naliot chuckled at the expression on her mint green face before sobering.
“What if I were to become your patron in full? Much like I have done f
or Scarrot, I can bestow upon you powerful gifts. Each of which would benefit you mightily in your rescue efforts.”
The half-orc looked down, pondering the god’s words. It was a tempting offer. More than anything, becoming one of Naliot’s champions meant she would be able to control the concept of ‘imprisonment.’ She’d heard from Holt that as Naliot’s Paladin, Scarrot could pick any lock, escape any bindings or cage, or make the reverse possible, by turning locks unpickable and bindings inescapable. and there was the added benefit that any who wore a slave collar would be forced to obey his every command. And not just like with the secret codes Scarrot had taught her for controlling slave collars, but genuine obedience that did not require loopholes or magic. A single word and a slave would do anything she asked. Anything.
And there was the oh-so appealing fact that there was at least one deity who was going to look after her. Her faith in the Divine Family was sorely tested at this point and having a different patron appealed to Dora. Despite her turning aside from Cynthia and her family, the half-orc still recalled the peace of mind the prayers and gospel had brought her as a child, and she yearned for something similar to keep her grounded.
Naliot was a prime candidate. After all, here in the Dreadlands his power was felt more keenly than that of any other deity, and his blessings would stand her in good stead with the inhabitants of the dusty wasteland.
But doubt wormed its way into her mind; if Naliot’s gifts were so great, why hadn’t they enabled Scarrot to escape his captors? Why had he not returned, his kidnappers’ severed heads strapped to his belt like trophies? Where in the Six Hells was he and the rest of the Menagerie?
Either Scarrot was not as devout as the rumors claimed, or the abductor’s patron exceeded Naliot’s abilities and blessings.
Dora opened her mouth to speak to the Chained One before her in hopes of getting these questions answered, but was interrupted by a loud, thunderous ‘BOOM!’ that shook the chamber.
Naliot sat bolt upright, going rigid in shock and staring at the far end of his domain. Curious, and more than a little bit afraid, Dora turned her head as well to catch a glimpse of what was happening. Behind her was a large steel door that starkly stood out from the dark wood of its frame. Embossed on its surface were countless silver chains.
