Tree Dungeon

by Andrew Karevik

  As Ehdrid spoke, my focus shifted to the Agaran temple. When I first began speaking with Ehdrid, my orders would be for him to bring an elite force of orcs and goblins over to the temple and raze it to the ground. The priestesses were to be chased to the city and the land that held the temple would be dug up, so that nothing could grow there. It would be a defiant gesture towards Agara and would no doubt provoke her. It was a foolish plan, I admit, but it was a satisfying fantasy.

  As I watched the women work in their chores, making sure to tend to the sick and the dying who had arrived, planting vegetables in the garden and saying their prayers, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Ehdrid’s words, or at least the words he was conveying to me, were true. To act rashly and in rage would cause great detriment to those who did not deserve it. It would only further more violence and would end in my own death. I had to let go of my schemes for now. This was not a season of war, it was a season of healing.

  With the shaman’s words reflecting in my heart, I began to set about the task of righting things within me. The first was the declaration of a holiday, a feast for the goblins that ended this period of silence. Every year they would observe this time—now called the Season of Wounds—in which they would not speak for a week but reflect on their grief and pain. At the end of the holiday, they would have a feast and reconcile with those who have done them harm.

  The shopkeepers were summoned by the Arbiter, who arrived to each one and bid them to return, as their contracts required them to stay for a certain period of time. There were some disagreements among the shopkeeps about the terms of the contract, but the Arbiter was able to persuade them to return. The tax burden was lessened for a period of time, as a way to make up for lost business.

  Settling things with Gariatha proved to be the most difficult task. While the goblins were understanding and did as Ehdrid instructed, the orcs had an agenda. They wanted a united orc state, led by a new god. Gariatha did not blame me for what had happened, but her mind was focused on revenge as well. When we spoke, she showed me a few plans that the elders had concocted. A way to draw seeds of discontent between Turm and Agara. Of all the gods, it would seem that the dwarfgod was looked upon most favorably by the orcs.

  Yet, Turm’s power was unable to grant healing spells that would cure illnesses or ensure that a mother and her child could survive pregnancy. He did not bless trade, cared little about luck and had no knowledge of prophecy to impart. This divided the loyalties of many of the orcs, who were required to serve the respective gods who controlled those domains in order to gain their power. While Turm was an orcfriend, the majority of orcs did not worship him. They were already built for battle; his divine power was not necessary for improving their skills at war.

  Gariatha and the elders had a plan. If Agara was to believe that Turm had designs to steal her healing godspell, then she would think she stood to lose all of her orcish followers. From what I had revealed to them in my story to Ehdrid, they realized they could use her jealousy against her. All that was necessary was for me to contact Turm and begin making plans with him. If I were to serve him, for a time, the orcs would be able to provide me with guidance on how to create clues that Turm was plotting to usurp Agara’s magic. It was a complicated plan, which required deception, cunning and oathbreaking. I was not really to serve Turm at all, but to falsely pledge loyalty to him. To use him as a tool in the scheme to put the two at odds.

  Gariatha assured me that if Agara was to declare war on Turm, the ensuing chaos would allow us time to properly create another portal. A war between Greater Gods would take centuries to resolve, especially when someone as jealous as Agara and someone as thick headed as Turm were involved. We could take measures to hide the portal, gather enough souls and then raise a new deity.

  The plan seemed good, but it was implied that this war was between more than just two divine beings. The clerics and priests of these factions would also rally in a real war, and potentially millions would die in battle. It would reshape Yehan as a whole. Perhaps one of the gods may even be slain in this war.

  It was tempting, but a foolish plan. Just as my desire to see the temple burn for Agara’s crimes, this plan was rooted more in fantasy than reality. Was it possible? Perhaps. But should it be done? No. The entire world did not need to suffer just so that I may create a new realm unhindered. And besides, I could not make an oath that I intended to break later on. Such a thing was unspeakable in my home world. While mortals here might not take oathkeeping as importantly as I do, I would not violate my principles in that regard.

  I told Gariatha that the time for action would come someday, but it would not be soon. That she and her allies would be long dead before the new realm was created. It was a cruelty to have to say such words, but they were true. I would find a solution, I promised, but not until I was ready to handle the consequences of defying Agara again. Because the next time, they wouldn’t just cut a limb. They would kill me.

  Chapter 33

  With order within the dungeon restored, I set about learning all that I could about the gods. It was a curious thing that I was unable to gain any divine knowledge from the essences of adventurers slain within me. Devout clerics who followed parties to keep them alive would sometimes die and I would gain their magic, but none of their knowledge. I would have to learn everything the old fashioned way: by reading books about them.

  It turned out that there was a good reason why the divine knowledge was secret. Bvosk the Keeper was an Intermediate Deity, who was responsible for ensuring that no god was able to learn each other’s secrets through the use of magic. In the old times, when the Deep Magic using wizards roamed the earth, gods routinely killed followers of their rivals, to steal the essence that carried knowledge. This in turn would cause a great deal of strife, until Bvosk stepped in and put a halt to any transmission of knowledge through magic. Unless he allowed it, no being, not mortal, nor god, could gain any divine understanding through essence absorption.

  My main concern was to first learn as much as possible about the gods in general, before focusing on finding a way to protect myself. It was a fool’s task, of course, to try and glean methods of protection from books, but I was divine in nature myself. Perhaps if I learned how the gods defended themselves from each other, I would be able to replicate the process. Then, I would be free to grow the new realm.

  This new realm, I had decided, would be just like the Valhalla of old. It would be open to anyone who fell within my dungeon. Orcs would have their own place within this new world, but it would be for anyone who sought rest after a courageous, adventurous life. I relished the idea of having my own personal army who would enjoy a life of luxury and pleasure, as well as battle and challenge. There would be a multitude of my own Einherjar, to do as I needed in times of crisis. But the only problem was getting to the point where I was safe enough to create a new realm.

  My time of study brought me a great deal of information. I sent Gariatha’s envoys out into the world to collect as many tomes as possible on the subject. Any sacred scroll, any book of wisdom, would be bought and brought back to my own private library. Even though I did not speak about my plans to Gariatha, she knew what I was doing and financed the entire operation from her own pocket. No book was too expensive for us to acquire.

  The library itself would become a wonder to behold. Carrying thousands of books, scrolls and pamphlets dealing with the gods and their powers, I realized that I had inadvertently created another treasure trove. Those who craved secret knowledge would undoubtedly seek out this library. But I did not want them to take what I needed, and so I created a new floor, one that was loaded with traps meant to counter the abilities and actions of the divine spellcasters. At the end of this floor was the Divine Library, sealed tightly shut.

  Even if they were to gain access to the library, a powerful spell ensured that they could only take a single book or scroll of their choosing. If they tried to take more than one, their bodies would begin t
o wither and rot until they put the book back. I did not mind giving a piece of my collection away to the most cunning and skilled of clerics, but I was not about to let any group take away all of my collection. And of those books that I kept in my library, the ones that I had deemed important to my cause were cleverly hidden behind titles that were most commonly available in the world.

  I would need more than envoys to gain hold of the most secret and sacred of texts, I knew. I would need to employ my very own adventurers, who were brave and crazy enough to try and steal from the High Temples and the Great Citadels around the world. All but one of the Five Greater Gods had an established hierarchy, with strict rules and organizational structuring. The one who practiced a form of organized chaos within his church was none other than Turm. Of all the gods, he was the one who had the least amount of books available about him.

  Not because Turm was some secretive god who hid his agenda or relied on secrets, but rather because Turm was surprisingly straightforward with his followers. The code of Turm was fairly simple, and as long as a follower adhered to it, they would be considered faithful.

  ” Fight not your allies, protect the weak, go to war with those who mock and spite you.” That was it. Anyone who followed these tenants was allowed access to his blessings and the divine magic that would make for great warriors. There were no high priests. Which meant there were no secret scrolls or books about him that would reveal pertinent information to me.

  But the rest of the Greater Five—Yimira the Mistmother, Eflora the Treeblood, Agara and Emerhilk—all had a tight hierarchy. Each had a grand citadel as well, hiding their secrets from the rest of the world. Only the most esteemed of the high priests of each church would be able to access the hidden knowledge from within. I doubted that any of these clerics would be willing to accept bribes in order to gain access to these books.

  So, I would have to steal them. But doing so would prove no easy task. I would need my own team of adventurers. Unfortunately, the denizens who lived within me were not up to this operation. Even Immix, if he were available, could not be counted on to pull off an assignment like this. I’d need a team who was coordinated, well versed in breaking and entering, and most importantly, in surviving. I’d need the very kinds of people who have made an entire career out of dying in a dungeon.

  While all of this chaos with the gods and the new realm had been going on, there was still a steady stream of adventurers arriving for some reason or another to raid me. Rumors of the Charm of Recollection and the Age of a Thousand had been long gone and were instead replaced with rumors of a great dungeon loaded with treasure.

  I began to observe these adventurers, looking for the ones who I felt were most coordinated and skilled in deception. These types of adventurers were usually the most aware and savvy of the group. While wizards would snap off spells to solve any problem, and a warrior would just break a door down, thieves and rogues were always searching for alternate solutions. They would pick locks, find ways to jam trap mechanisms, hide from monsters and even end up stealing from their companions and vanishing in the middle of the night.

  Recruiting a thief like that was a double edged sword, of course, because I could not trust them to faithfully complete their mission and return the book to me. They may seek to betray me in exchange for some monetary advantage from the church, or simply because betrayal and deception is in their nature.

  I focused my efforts in observing these rogues for quite some time, to learn if there was something they all had in common. Perhaps, like paladins who fought for their divine leader, or bards who fought for fame and accolades, there was some desire that united all thieves and scoundrels in a shared cause. My answer came swiftly enough. Within three weeks of watching five different adventuring parties, I was able to come to a conclusion. While the honor, nobility and greed of each thief seemed to vary, they all appeared to worship the same deity: Glym, goddess of Merchants and Thieves.

  Glym was an odd choice of gods to worship, in my opinion. According to the books I had read on her, she was a Lesser Goddess who had very little power. Her domains were trade and silence. She was responsible for blessing trading caravans as well as those who sought out to steal from them. There was a confusing duality to her nature. She seemed to encourage making money through any means necessary, but at the same time had strict rules for her thieves to follow. I did not understand this being at all, which was unfortunate, because I was going to have to speak with her.

  My only hope of gaining the steadfast alliance of any skilled rogue was a divine agreement, in which they were not bonded to follow their word, but rather to follow the desires of their deity. A divine agreement was more powerful than a mortal oath, because a mortal oath could be broken. No mortal could ever defy a divine agreement. They could not break the letter or the spirit of the oath. They would be, in a sense, giving a piece of their free will over to their god for a duration of time until the agreement was fulfilled. This was how many high priests of the Greater Gods were afforded any power at all. A divine agreement would ensure that, no matter what, a mortal was trustworthy.

  The only caveat was that in order for a divine agreement to work, the deity must be willing to grant it. The mortal was not allowed to simply claim that they swore on Glym, for example. Rather, Glym must be the one to facilitate this agreement. And unless it was for their own benefit in some way, a god most likely wasn’t going to make the effort.

  Ehdrid believed that I was being paranoid about the entire ordeal. He suggested that I just simply hire these thieves and be done with it. Offering enough gold would motivate them to come back, he said. But I knew better than that. I had only one shot at finding some way to supplant Agara and I was not about to give myself away by employing people capable of betraying me. If they were caught and interrogated, I needed some way of ensuring they were unable to speak the secrets that they knew.

  I called for Gannix once I was ready to begin negotiations with Glym. As gods who both believed in order and structure, I hoped that Gannix had a relationship with her. If that was the case, it would be better for him to introduce us, so that she did not look at me with suspicion.

  The Plaguemaker was hesitant to arrive at first. But after my second call within the same night he arrived, head down and weary. He was ashamed, it turned out, to be unable to help me save my severed limb. If he was stronger or had some of his allies present, he claimed, he would have tried to speak up for me. But without any support, he could not risk losing his seat at the table. As a Lesser God, he was easily replaceable with someone who would listen to Agara and the others’ words.

  I assured Gannix that I was pleased with his efforts to key me in to the truth of what was happening. Without seeing the way the gods behaved, I would not have the foundation for a strategy for the future. Those words were curious to him and he asked to hear more. However, I was not willing to share my whole plan with him. It was not that I did not trust Gannix, but I did not believe that he would aid me if he knew I was preparing to defy Agara again. Certainly, Gannix would try to dissuade me, rather than see me dead.

  Instead, I asked for an introduction to Glym. Those words were not well met in the least. It would appear that, at one time, Gannix and Glym were loyal allies, who supported one another in their endeavors. Then one day, Glym stole a domain of his, the domain of silence, pushing him into the role of being purely focused on disease and plague. This robbed him of the chance of becoming an Intermediate God, as only the sinister or cruel would worship a god of plagues.

  To make matters worse, Glym insisted that they stay as friends, claiming she had only done what was right. So, Gannix was less than excited at the prospect of introducing me to her. He had suffered terribly because of her cruelty and had created the godspell that once infested my body purely as a means of protecting his property from her—should she come back for more.

  I briefly considered the existence of Gannix’s Gift. It was designed to kill a divine being, so
could it be used against Agara? Then I remembered her divine aura in comparison with anyone else. It was domineering and powerful, so much stronger than a godspell from Gannix. The spell would be repelled with ease. So, I continued with my current plan.

  After some time and some more insistence, I eventually managed to convince Gannix. He agreed to call her forth but told me he would have no dealings with her. I could expect her to arrive in the morning, on the fourth day, as that was her holy day of trade and counting coin. He also told me to expect that she should betray me at a moment’s notice and that nothing was more important to her than profit. I thanked him for his aid and waited for the morning in which we would speak.

  Chapter 34

  The divine aura was hidden, which was why it took me so long to notice that I was being watched by Glym. One of the unique powers that the silence domain gave her was the ability to suppress her divine nature, allowing her to move through the realm of gods and mortals hidden from view. When I noticed her, I realized that she had been sitting on a pile of crates in the clearing where the merchants often left their wagons. Glym looked to be human, with the exception that she had a second mouth on her forehead, one grinning the whole time.

  “So, the Tree sees me?” she asked. “Took you long enough.”