Lord Sorcerer: Singularity Online: Book 3

by Kyle Johnson

  Metal groaned as the softened doors yielded to the pressure of his will, flattening and returning to their original shape. On a whim, Aranos shifted the mana molds he’d created, and the images of the party members began to emerge from the metal. He kept the pressure up until the doors were flattened, then raced through the structure again, returning the lattice to the hardened order of truesilver.

  Inspiration hit Aranos, and he delved into the dross of rust and iron at the base of the door, pulling the remaining metal mana from it and guiding it up along the door’s face in a carefully chosen pattern. He shifted and worked the lattice cautiously and meticulously before allowing it to harden into a gleaming outer layer on the exterior surface. He took a deep breath and shifted some of his SP into spirit mana, sending the newly formed energy coursing into that outer layer. The matrix he’d created held more mana than he’d anticipated, and he had to shift more SP into spirit mana to fill it, but when he finished, the patterns held. The outer layer of the door was now a sheet of Faysmithed metal that would resist magic. Combined with the natural resistance that faymetal had to mana, the door should withstand any attack that was less powerful than the one Zoridos had used to wipe the party. And, if the lich-king used an attack that powerful just to get through the door, Aranos hoped that would weaken it significantly enough that the party stood a fair chance of defeating it.

  With the door sealed, Aranos turned back to the party, who had spread out and were searching the room. “Anything interesting?”

  “Not really,” Phil shrugged. “The doors are sealed tight, there’s nothing remotely valuable in the room, and no one is dumb enough to touch that glowing dome in the middle of the wall.” The Spellsword grinned. “We were waiting for you to do it.”

  Aranos sighed and walked over to the wall, reaching out with his Sense Mana Skill. The doors were magically sealed, as he’d assumed, but he was pretty sure he could unseal them if he had to. He was also reasonably certain there would be a ward on the doors to punish anyone attempting that – if not, surely Zoridos would have unsealed these doors long ago – and that there had to be another way through them. That left only the glowing, crystal dome, which he tentatively touched with his Skill.

  The dome overflowed with mana of every type Aranos recognized – and a few types that he didn’t but that resembled blends of Enhanced and Primary mana. Without thinking, he reached out with a mana tendril, trying to gain a sense of those mana types, but the moment his probe touched it, the glowing sphere contracted, forming a hardened shell of mana that felt seamless and impenetrable to his probing.

  The light in the globe shifted from white to a deep, bloody crimson, and Aranos stepped back, bringing up a defensive shield and shouting out a warning.

  “Dude, what did you do?” Phil said nervously, hefting his shield.

  “He has once more disturbed what should not be, of course,” Geltheriel sighed. “And somehow, it will turn out for the best, and he will thus learn nothing from it.”

  Aranos opened his mouth to protest, but he froze as a face swirled into view on the sphere. The face was decidedly elven, with arched eyes that had pronounced folds, high cheekbones, and a long, narrow chin. Its eyes flashed a gleaming orange, and its expression was set in an angry scowl.

  “I have told you, qualintar,” the face spoke, its voice hard and cold. “Whatever has become of the city, we of the Parmassae will ever hold this place against you. Your dominion of the Tree-heart…” The face broke off and stared curiously at Aranos. “And yet, the qualintar stands not before us, brothers. It is one of the higher races, and a lord among them. Have the arcanes returned at last to our beleaguered world?”

  “What is it saying?” Phil asked nervously. Aranos glanced curiously at the Spellsword before he realized that the face had been speaking in Elvish. It had a strange accent, and some of its words didn’t translate in Aranos’ mind, but most of it had been clear.

  “It thought we were someone else at first, and then it questioned Aranos’ identity,” Saphielle said tersely. “It awaits an answer, one that I highly suggest he provide quickly.”

  Oh, yeah, it asked me a question. “Umm, no, the arcanes haven’t returned, sorry,” he told the face. “I was an elf – an aleen, to be exact – who Evolved into an arcane.”

  “I sense no falsity in your words,” the face spoke slowly. “Yet, that is indeed a fortunate Evolution. It was that great race that first brought the secrets of magic to Ka, teaching it to all races that would learn. Their mastery of this art is unparalleled, and gaining the power to weave Spells as they do, with thought and will alone, is an amazing gift.”

  Aranos was stunned. “I – I didn’t know all that,” he admitted. “I’d like to learn more, though. We’re trying to get into the Library and the Vault below. Can you tell us how to enter?”

  “You cannot enter,” the face said flatly. “As Antas fell, we of the Parmassae gave our lives willingly to this place to hold its secrets against the qualintar and its underlings. We will not set aside that duty for any, arcane.”

  “The qualintar – do you mean Zoridos?” Aranos asked. “We’re not his servants. We just killed a bunch of his servants to get to this place.”

  “You cannot kill what is already dead,” the face replied. “And while I do not sense deception in your words, I cannot ignore the possibility that you are highly skilled in deceit and are able to fool my abilities. No, if you wish to pass, you must bring me proof that you stand against the qualintar and its minions.”

  “Proof,” Aranos muttered, thinking quickly. “What would you consider proof?”

  “What if Aranos were to Redeem this place?” Saphielle spoke up. “If he were to drive out the Corruption and banish the necrotic energy from here, would that not stand as proof of his opposition to the one you call qualintar?”

  “Perhaps,” the face said slowly. “If you could accomplish this, arcane, we would consider your request for entry. I can promise you no more.”

  “I guess that’ll have to do,” Aranos sighed. He glanced at his Status; while they’d spoken, his SP had regenerated fully, so he could cast the Spell without exhausting himself, at least. He closed his eyes and summoned an image of the Library, imagining it as it must have been once. The exterior shone brilliantly, sheathed in the same white stone they’d seen below the city. The bare earth surrounding the building was filled with greenery and low trees. Inside, the air was clean and fresh, the stone smooth and polished.

  Once he had the image firmly in his mind, Aranos poured his need into it, demanding that the image become reality. He required this Library be whole once more; it would be so because he willed it. Power ignited within his core, and as energy swirled into his center, he grasped it firmly, channeling it through the river of mana he’d made. Energy rose from the depths below that river, golden fire that surged up the hollow in the center, gathering every other energy type into itself and erupting from him to bathe everything in its radiance.

  Energy streamed from his feet into the floor; it surged out his hands to strike the walls; it burned from his face and filled the air about him. This time, though, he controlled that flow, not allowing it to ravage his body but guiding it through the channels he’d worked so diligently to build and maintain. The power moved more slowly this way, but rather than scorching its way out of him, it flowed smoothly and evenly.

  He could feel the Spell racing through the stone floor, searing away centuries of dust, grime, and filth. It burned away the rotting undead corpses and flowed into the shattered pillars and tables of stone, restoring them to their original states. It churned along the walls, seeping through the cracks and filling in ancient fissures. It poured through the air, descending into the depths and rising into the stones above. It drove back the vile, green necrotic mana filling the air and seared the Corruption from the stones, leaving them pure and untarnished. The mental shriek of rage Aranos heard this time was louder, more insistent, and far more enraged; by retaking this Library,
he hadn’t just struck at the Darkness. He’d hurt it. Get used to it, he thought grimly, flinging the thought at the distant sense of malevolence. It won’t be the last time.

  Aranos kept pouring his SP into the Spell, knowing that he was massively overpowering it. Not only was he dumping his Primary mana into the spell-form, he was supercharging it with his Enhanced mana. Thanks to his new understanding, though, boosting the Spell was a simple enough task, and he had a feeling that the extra power would also give him greater, more potent effects. Energy raged through him in a carefully controlled torrent, but as the flows began to slow, he carefully tapered the power off, easing it into a trickle before cutting the energy off entirely.

  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The room gleamed a pristine white, the stones smooth and polished, without a flaw or blemish. Stone tables were scattered about, and the room was interspersed with fluted columns that rose gracefully to support the alabaster ceiling. The doors and crystal dome were untouched, as was the door leading out into Antas, but that had been deliberate; Aranos hadn’t wanted the doorkeeper – whatever it was – to think that he was trying to breach the doorway or escape. If the Parmassae, as the doorkeeper called them, were powerful enough to keep holding Zoridos out for centuries, then Aranos definitely didn’t want to piss them off.

  Fatigue swept through his body, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting; even better, his SP and LP loss were both a little less than they should have been. Both stood at 25% instead of 10%; he wondered if that was because he’d more carefully controlled the mana flows, because he’d cut the power off rather than exhausting himself, or a combination of both? It didn’t matter; while he was still low on energy and had a Fatigued 2 debuff, it was far better than bottoming out and being Exhausted.

  He walked wearily over to the dome; the sphere had changed color once more, this time fading to a cool, deep blue that felt a lot less threatening than the angry red had. “Will that do?” he asked tiredly. “Are you convinced?”

  “We are convinced that you are opposed to the qualintar,” the face replied slowly. “Yet, we cannot allow simply anyone to enter, arcane. You must understand, in life we dedicated our lives to preserving and maintaining the works stored below. Only those with the proper standing or clearances could enter. We gave ourselves to continue this duty in death, and we cannot hurl it aside, no matter how noble your intentions.”

  Aranos’ eyes flashed in anger, but he put it aside and took a deep, calming breath. He could attempt to force his way in – Zoridos hadn’t been able to, but power wasn’t always the same thing as ability – but he had a feeling that if he did, they’d be fighting their way past wards, Spells, and attacks with every step. He wouldn’t have wanted to assault the House of Stars, with its defenses, and he figured this place was probably even more protected…

  Aranos groaned as he recalled the House of Stars, and the entire reason he had joined the House in the first place. He raised his left arm, willing the tattoo of green stars to appear on the back of his hand. “What about an Expert in the House of Stars?” he asked, fighting down a grin. One of the benefits to being a member of that House was that no library or center of learning in elven lands was closed to you. While this wasn’t elven lands anymore, he hoped the Parmassae wouldn’t be in the mood to quibble. “Can one of those get in?”

  The face’s eyes widened. “Greetings, Expert,” the face replied deferentially, its face bowing as if lowering its head. “As always, we of the Parmassae stand ready to serve the House of Stars. Please, enter, and be welcome among us.”

  The crystal dome glowed and shimmered, and a small hole appeared in the center, piercing the dome and the floating face in the middle of it. The hole began to slowly rotate, growing wider with every revolution, until the crystal had become a thin circle lining the 8’ wide hole. The tunnel beyond was made of the same crystal and glowed with a welcoming, golden light that beckoned to the party. Aranos peered inside and got his first glimpse of the Library of Antas.

  Chapter 17

  The tunnel stretched about 10’ into what Aranos now realized was solid stone, of a type he couldn’t identify. It was lined with the same type of crystal that had comprised the dome; in fact, Aranos realized, it was the crystal from the dome, spread out in a layer along the tunnel. Beyond was a wide space that was lit with a gentle light. Aranos could see tables and chairs scattered throughout that room, the wood showing cracks and hazing but still looking polished and maintained. Someone had to have been taking care of them, Aranos thought, if they’re still here after five centuries and haven’t turned to sawdust.

  “Please, enter,” the voice that had been in the dome spoke, now seeming to echo from around the room. “We of the Parmassae will see to your needs.”

  “And the rest of my party?” Aranos asked cautiously. “Can they enter, too?”

  “If they are with you, they may,” the voice replied. “Please note that by inviting them, you accept responsibility for their conduct within this Library. Should their behavior merit banishment from our halls, you will be exiled, as well.”

  “Hear that, everybody?” Aranos called to the party.

  “We heard it, but I don’t have a clue what the bloody thing’s saying,” Longfellow muttered.

  “One wonders if this Library contains a tome of instruction in the Elven language,” Rhys said mildly. “It might be simpler than constantly translating.”

  “The doorkeeper said that by inviting us within, my Oathbinder also vouches for our conduct,” Geltheriel explained. She turned and spoke to the ceiling in Elven. “Forgive me, but many of our number are human and do not speak this tongue. Are you able to converse in Human, instead?”

  “I am capable of speaking seventeen languages, Shadedancer,” the voice replied drily in Human. “This is one of the simplest of them.” Perhaps seeing the startled look on Geltheriel’s face, the voice continued. “We of the Parmassae have studied much; indeed, that is all that we do. What you are is obvious to one who knows what to look for.”

  “Before we go inside and promise to be good,” Meridian spoke up, “it’d be nice to know what ‘good’ is. What are the rules of this place, so we don’t break one accidentally?”

  “A wise question, Shaman,” the voice said approvingly. “The rules are simple. All works are to be treated with the utmost respect. Accidental damage to such a work will result in your expulsion from the Library; deliberately damaging or defacing one will bring swift and severe retribution.

  “All works are to remain in the Library unless special permission is granted. This permission is rarely given, however.

  “Finally, all visitors must remain in the Great Hall, unless they are escorted by one of the Parmassae. If you seek a specific work or have an area of research you wish to pursue, we will bring the desired works to you.”

  “Seems simple enough,” McBane smiled. “Be nice to the books, don’t wander, and ask if you need help, right?”

  “That is a concise summation,” the voice agreed.

  Aranos glanced at the others, giving them a questioning look. He saw a couple of nervous faces, but no one seemed unwilling, so he took a breath and stepped cautiously into the tunnel. To his surprise, the glossy, crystalline floor wasn’t remotely slick or slippery, and he had no trouble keeping his footing on it. His footsteps made no sound whatsoever as he walked, and he was struck by the fact that the corridor and room beyond were utterly silent. Even in the tunnel below the city, there had been some sounds – the whisper of air circulating through the passages, the clatter of dislodged stones, and the scratching and groaning of distant, unseen undead – but this place was absolutely quiet. He couldn’t even hear the sounds of his party behind him, and he had to glance over his shoulder to assure himself that they were still there.

  As he exited the tunnel, he glanced around the large room. It was bigger than it should have been, considering the size of the building it was contained within, and it had high, vaulted ceilings wi
th glowing, crystal spheres hanging from it to light the room in a clear but not overly bright radiance. Doors lined the sides, and several crystal domes like the one they’d entered through pierced the walls.

  “Where are we, really?” Aranos asked aloud, his voice curiously muffled.

  A dimly glowing, humanoid shape formed before him. “I would commend you for your perceptiveness, Expert, but I am aware that the House of Stars employs a similar technique for entering its halls. You are still within Antas, but some distance below the city.”

  “So, what were the other doors upstairs?”

  “They once led to the offices and living quarters of the Parmassae, those who maintain and care for the Library. Now, they lead to empty rooms and silent passages, as none have dwelt above for centuries.”

  Aranos looked around and saw that the other members of the party had joined him in the room, and that each of them except Silma had a glowing figure standing beside them. Occasionally, their mouths moved, but no sound reached the Sorcerer. Silma sat glaring at the others suspiciously and gazed at Aranos almost accusingly.

  It’s too quiet in here, pack leader, he heard the thought in his mind. I’d rather be out among the undead.

  Aranos snorted and looked at the glowing humanoid. “Some sort of silence Spell?” he asked.

  “Indeed. Those who come within these halls desire quiet and solitude to study. The Enchantment is lifted when you make contact with another or when you are seated at the same table together.”

  Aranos nodded; that was a useful Enchantment. He wondered if he could study it – or if the Library had runes and Enchantments he could peruse. “By the way, my name’s Aranos,” he offered. “Lord Evenshade, I guess.”