by C. M. Carney
As if proving Gryph’s assessment of him, Errat gripped his axe with both hands and thrust it over his head. A bearlike roar exploded from him earning several odd glances from the rest of the group. Lex grinned and slapped the huge automaton on the back.
“See, you’re getting it big guy.” Errat beamed a wide, odd smile and Lex turned to find the others staring at him. “What? I’m teaching him to express himself.”
“Can he express himself at a lower volume?” Gryph said, grimacing.
Lex looked up at Gryph. “You okay, man? You’ve been an insufferable grump for days.”
“I’m tired, that’s all,” Gryph said, his tone softening with apology. “So, can we keep unnecessary noise to a minimum?”
“Sure thing, man. So, anyway, we considered Errat Smash, but since he’s more a slicer and dicer than a smasher, we decided it didn’t make sense.”
“Errat Slice!” the warborn roared, holding his axe over his head with both hands.
Lex cringed and cast a nervous glance Gryph’s way. He then patted Errat on the arm. “Buddy, no. We agreed that doesn’t work either.”
“Didn’t we agree that you were the worst choice to mentor the big fella?” Vonn asked, his tone suggesting it was more a statement than a question.
“We did not. You guys said it and Errat and I were very insulted.”
“Errat was not insulted. Errat likes friend Vonn, even if he is a … what did friend Lex call him … an insufferable know it all.”
“Dude, that was between you and me,” Lex said, wincing up at the half-elf templar.
“Petty insults are the province of a small mind,” Ovrym said and pushed past the NPC. “You are the Lexicon of Cerrunos. Learn to act with grace and dignity.” The xydai walked up the beach oblivious to the heat of Lex’s scowl.
“Oh sure, pick the two things I’m terrible at,” Lex yelled after the adjudicator.
“Saying the two things implies that you are good at other things. I’m curious, what, would you say, you are good at?” Vonn asked, then walked up the beach without waiting for the NPC to respond. Lex opened his mouth and then closed it again.
Silence hung for several seconds.
“Errat enjoys friend Lex’s many very funny jokes about genitals and bodily gasses. And he can smash very well and is very good at Analyze.” Errat grinned at Lex and then rushed after Ovrym and Vonn, reaching the shorter men in several easy strides.
“When you say it like that, you make me sound like an idiot teenager.”
“If the shoe fits,” Gryph said, a note of amusement pushing through his fatigue. He slapped Lex on the back and followed the others up the beach. After a moment’s muttering, Lex followed.
Ahead, a pair of large stone doors blocked their path. If Gryph’s information was correct, their prize lay behind them. Vonn found no traps and nodded to Errat and Ovrym who pulled the doors open. Gryph cast several Far Light spells. The glowing balls flew in and stuck to the walls, revealing a circular chamber. A quick Perception check assured Gryph the room was empty.
Gryph stepped forward but found his way blocked by the handle of Lex’s maul. The NPC gave him an abashed smile. Clarion calls of I must protect Gryph filled the player’s mind and he waved his hand. "By all means, make sure it’s safe."
“I must protect Gryph,” Lex muttered in a low, almost embarrassed whisper. The NPC grunted in irritation and strode through the doors like a conquering general. His shoulders slumped on discovering the room was empty. “Aw man, there’s nothing here.”
“Yes, there is,” Gryph said and walked past him. He pulled a small leather pouch from his satchel, undid the strings and twined his fingers through fine sand. The motion soothed him, like a man raking a Zen garden. He tossed a handful of sand in a wide arc onto the smooth paving stones.
For a moment nothing happened, but then faint golden lines and symbols appeared. Gryph took another step and tossed several more handfuls of the dust, revealing an intricately drawn pattern of intertwining runes.
“A rune-form,” Lex said, eyes wide in awe.
2
Their mission began with the return of an old friend and a dire warning of hidden danger.
Gryph hadn’t rested well for several weeks. As an El’Edryn, one of the elven races, Gryph did not sleep. Instead, he entered a meditative state called a Soul Reverie, where his subconscious mind floated in a vast sea of life experiences. Some of these experiences were from his current life, the iteration of his soul known as both Gryph and Finn Caldwell. Others were pieces of past lives.
Normally, when he roused from his Soul Reverie, Gryph only remembered fragments of the experience, akin to a half-remembered dream. Lately, he’d woken frightened, worried and bathed in a cold sweat. The night of the warning, something felt different.
While in his Soul Reverie Gryph floated on an endless sea of viscous silver liquid. Spheres bubbled to the surface, reflecting and distorting random events from the past life they sheltered. If he focused on a sphere Gryph could relive a glimpse of the life they contained. Some were small, others large. Gartheniel, the half-elven Steward of Sylvan Aenor, had taught him that each sphere was an important moment from a past life and the larger the sphere the more impactful that moment had been on the Realms.
For weeks, each time he entered the Reverie, a massive sphere had confronted him, one whose reflective surface swarmed with a barrage of images. It was the largest he'd seen, suggesting it was more impactful than his life as the last Stone King. The Prime had corrupted Gryph in that life, and he’d nearly unleashed a holocaust upon the world. He could not conceive of a moment that influenced the Realms more, but there, staring him in the face, was one whose impact was far greater.
For good or for ill? Gryph wondered.
He’d become obsessed with answering that question, but the soul bubble resisted all inquiries, prevented all access. It had cost him in the waking world in mistakes made while crafting, sharp responses to friends and foul moods. His people deserved better.
One night, after waking in a cold sweat, he’d taken a walk to Sylvan Aenor, the elven haven across the Deep Water, to sit under the empyrean tree Aurvendiel. The wondrous being emitted a field of soothing energy. There he found a modicum of peace.
On the third night, as he leaned against the wide trunk of the mighty tree, a voice spoke to him, a voice he’d never thought to hear again.
“Why are you so grim?”
Gryph’s eyes snapped open. Had he drifted into the Reverie without realizing? Was he so exhausted that he’d fallen into the Endless Sea without conscious choice? His eyes tore about the room, but the only people present were the pair of paladins guarding the entrance to the Spire, and they were too far away. Besides, the voice sounded female.
Gryph wiped at his eyes and got to his feet and looked around him. Just a dream then. Some fragment of my past bubbling to the now. He knew the theory was false, for he recognized the voice.
“Hello?” Gryph asked, as hope, fear and joy swirled inside him.
A low crackle, like a footfall on a pile of leaves and twigs came from behind Gryph and he turned. The surface of the mighty tree shivered, and a woman stepped from the trunk. Her skin was shining white, her hair twining green vines, her dress an overlay of golden leaves. She smiled as she strode towards him.
“Hello Gryph. It is good to see you.”
“Sillendriel!” Gryph said, eyes wide in shock. His heart raged inside his chest as she walked closer, his Analyze revealing she was an empyrean dryad, her soul now bonded to Aurvendiel. A thousand questions rushed through his mind. How had she survived? How long had she been back? Did Barrendiel know? Had she just returned, or had she been hiding inside Aurvendiel? If so, why did she wait so long to reveal herself? Why now? Why him?
“Shh.” She caressed his face with thin fingers sending a tingle through him.
He leaned into her hand, surprised at the smooth warmth of her skin. Her touch drained the tension binding his muscles
and his thoughts eased. “How?”
“I am sorry my dear friend, but we do not have time for explanations. We need your help.” She pulled him gently towards the trunk of the tree, placing his hand palm down onto the shining bark. “Can you feel her?”
Gryph closed his eyes and eased himself inside. To most, Aurvendiel was just the tallest of trees, but Gryph knew better. During the final battle against the Aberrant, Gryph had joined his mind with the spirit occupying the tree, an angelic entity long ago descended from the heavens.
It had been like sharing a mind with an angel in a battle against a demon. Aurvendiel had been weak then, the result of a poisoning during the war against the Prime. Now she was vibrant and joyous. It showed in her new growth, with the buds just beginning to emerge at the tips of her branches.
“Is this because of you?” Gryph asked.
“In part,” Sillendriel said with a nod. “My soul has found a home inside her and we are both transformed. But I played the smallest of parts. It was your defeat of my cousin that not only freed Aurvendiel from his foulness but also cleansed her of the last vestiges of the Prime’s poisoning. It will take time, but she will heal and return to her glory.”
Gryph smiled and the burden he carried lightened. Sillendriel placed her hand atop his. Pulses of golden light flared under the surface of the bark, spreading upwards like the beating of an ancient heart.
“We sense your pain and your fear. We know the peace of the Reverie is withheld from you.”
“The memory of my past life,” Gryph said, hope flowing through him. “Can you help me pierce its veil?”
“No,” Sillendriel said, a deep sadness crossing her face. “A Reverie is a private experience. We can train you to swim in the sea, but you alone must make the journey. Remember, the Reverie is all that you have been, and some say all that you will be. What you bring into it is magnified and intensified. To find what you seek, you must enter with a clear mind and a joyous heart.”
“How?” Gryph said, irritated at how helpless his failure in the Reverie made him feel.
“I cannot tell you how for each man, each woman must find that path on their own,” Sillendriel said. “And before you ask, even my divinations are mere glimpses of what may come, seen through a haze of fog. Perhaps, in time, the fog will clear, and I can be of more help, but for now…”
Gryph placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are here, alive. That is a bigger help than you can imagine.” Nervous energy pushed through him and he fell silent, at a loss for words.
Sillendriel smiled and stared up at him. Her eyes were twin pools of sapphire blue water and Gryph was awestruck by the current that flowed through them. She took both his hands into hers and Gryph's heart thundered in his chest. He lost track of time and place as he swam in those eyes. She turned her gaze down, trying to hide her pained smile from him.
“I wish we could explore that path, but for every moment of joy I see, there is an equal measure of pain and destruction. We cannot.” She nuzzled against his chest.
“I …,” Gryph began, but then closed his mouth. There was nothing to say and he willed his heart to slow. “I understand.” He did not, but knew she needed to hear him say he did.
She looked back up at him, a desperate sadness filling her smile. A moment later it faded. “We have a gift for you, and a request.” She pulled her hands from his leaving a small, hard nugget tucked into his palm.
He opened his hand and saw a golden acorn shimmering with internal light. His Identify talent triggered.
You have found an Empyrean Essence Seed.
Empyrean Essence Seeds are matrices of pure empyrean energy grown by empyrean trees. They are beyond rare outside the empyrean realm. When consumed by a sentient being the seed will cleanse and strengthen the body, mind and soul, enhancing and changing them at the core of their being.
The effects are wide ranging and dependent upon a variety of factors, including the phases of the moons, the mood of the user, the time of day and other conditions.
Gryph’s eyes went wide, and he nodded his thanks. “I do not know what to say.”
“There is nothing that you need say,” Sillendriel said with a smile. She leaned in and whispered. “Wait until the night of the full moons. They will be in sync then and consuming the seed under their light will increase the potency of the gifts granted.”
“Thank you.” Gryph stared at the shimmering seed for a few moments, bathing in the good will pouring from the precious gift. He slipped the seed into his bag of holding and turned to Sillendriel.
She walked on feet so light that they seemed to float above the ground. Soon she stood at the spot where she had bled out. The spot where she'd died.
“Are you all right?” Gryph asked, desperately wanting to comfort her, but fearing the path it would pull them down.
She lowered her head. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.” She held her hands before her, turning them back and forth, letting the subtle golden glow of Aurvendiel play across her white skin. “I should have known Myrth …, that he was aberrant. All it would have taken was one touch.”
“You are not to blame. His evil was his and his alone, not yours. He is dead and history will forget his name.”
She raised her head and turned to him with a smile. “The wisdom of lifetimes lives in your soul, and you have done more than your fair share, but I fear we must ask for your help once more.”
“Anything,” he said, his eyes intent.
Sillendriel smiled and showed Gryph the near invisible whorls and lines carved into the base of the tree. It was ancient and nearly undetectable until Gryph pushed mana into it, his Ritual Magic skill enabling him to bring the etchings to the fore.
“A rune-form,” Gryph said in wonder.
“A cloaking rune-form to be exact,” Sillendriel said. She walked towards a large gash in the tree's side. It looked like a lightning strike had charred the living wood. As he got close, Gryph realized the rent bisected a major portion of the rune-form. “Powered by Aurvendiel, this rune-form has shrouded the valley since the days of the Prime invasion, protecting us all from discovery.”
“This damage is recent.”
“Yes, inflicted by the Black Fog during the battle against the Aberrant.”
Gryph placed his hand on the gash, tracing the wound with gentle fingers. “This is my doing.”
“You saved her. You saved me. You saved us all.” She lowered her head and paused for the briefest of moments. “And now, I fear, I’m asking you to do so again.”
“It is damaged? Are we safe?”
“For now, yes, but the field grows weaker with the passing of each day. It still hides us from the casual observer.”
“But what of the intentional seeker?” The face of Aluran filled Gryph’s mind, and a chill ran down his spine. The High God thought Gryph was dead and Gryph had no reason to believe that state of affairs had changed. But, there is more in this valley the High God fears. The Black Fog had briefly enslaved every sentient being on Korynn, including Aluran. He knew its power and would stop at nothing to take it for himself. If he ever discovers where it is, where we are, then no amount of trickery will keep us safe.
The Colonel’s voice filled Gryph’s mind. It is not a matter of if, but of when. You must be prepared son.
Gryph stared at the jagged cut in the empyrean tree's side, the burnt edges already flush with the pale green of new growth. He then turned his gaze to the empyrean dryad. “We will fix it. I will find a way to repair the field.” He pulled a chunk of burnt bark free, revealing healthy wood beneath. “Then you … then everyone will be safe again.”
You have been offered the quest. Secure the Field, Secure the Future.
You have been tasked with repairing the cloaking rune-form that protects the Valley from discovery, scrying or divination. To achieve this goal, you must construct or discover a fully functional cloaking rune-form, carve it into the base of the empyrean tree Aurvendiel and then power the rune-form
.
Difficulty: Complicated - Reward: A secure base of operations - Time Limit: Two Weeks - Penalty for Failure: Discovery - XP: 100,000.
She smiled up at him, and he almost reached out to her. “You are a godsend Gryph of Earth, but I fear that soon there will be no such thing as a safe place in all the Realms.”
Gryph wished more than anything to prove her wrong.
3
To help him with the quest to repair the cloaking rune-form, Gryph had recruited Eadweanna and the other scholars. After several days of searching the vast archives in Dar Thoriim’s library they found a decrepit book. Inside its pages was the tale of a man named Exuum. There they found mention of the last resting place of a long dead ritual mage.
Syndravion has gone mad. Yesterday the arrogant fool killed the maid. He thought the old woman was me, insisting that I had somehow stolen the poor woman’s body, and I had come to kill him. The only way to save her, he claimed, was to kill her so I could no longer possess her. I cannot say why he let me live. This morning, he made no mention of it, as if he’d forgotten it had ever happened.
I now know he never plans to teach me his secrets. I do not know if he remembers them himself. I am leaving at first light. It is only a few days south from the old crater to Pyr. There, I can live a good, long life. My departure means my quest to learn the depths of Ritual Magic will end, but at least I will have my life and my sanity. The same cannot be said of Syndravion.
Using the Port Gate system, the Adventure Group journeyed to the ancient catacombs hidden in the endless grasslands near the Free City of Pyr on the northern shore of the Central Sea. In that lair they found what they sought.
“A rune-form,” Lex said, eyes wide in awe.
“A cloaking rune-form to be exact,” Gryph said with a smile and spread more of the magical Revelation Sand across the floor, revealing the entire pattern. Gryph knelt and held a hand over the shimmering circle of energy.
