by D. M. Almond
“(Hublin) ‘How can the gift of life be anything but divine? Who are we to question the will of Ohm, who has seen fit to put me on this path of enlightenment in search of the power to smite the wicked?”
“(AlCleric) ‘You speak of blasphemy!’
“(Hublin) ‘Blasphemy? Is it sacrilege when a caterpillar becomes a butterfly? Is it a sin when we lay hands on the dying and provide healing so that they might walk Vanidriell a bit longer? No, the real blasphemy here is that you three, the supposed wisest of our Guild, would stand by idly while our people are being cut down like dogs in the street, allowing the cobold hordes to swell within our caverns!’
“(AlCleric) ‘You will mind your tongue, Hublin of Donglin. King Thorgar is more than adept to handle this new threat to our borders without your interference.’
“(Hublin appears quite distraught) ‘Lies! The fat oaf sits in his throne room while our people suffer. Where was he in Admondine? Where were the kingsmen in Rovinal? I was there, and now Ohm had chosen me to lead you cowards out of the darkness!’
“(The congregation is in an uproar and it takes the AlCleric a few minutes to calm everyone down) ‘Hublin, what you speak is both treason and sacrilege. Please, lad, I know you. You were a good man not too long ago, deeply devoted to the guild, a brother spreading Ohm’s gospel. Perhaps the business at Rovinal was too much for you to handle. We should have given you more time to reflect before coming back into your duties. I beg you, son, turn from this path before it is too late.’
“(Hublin) ‘Perhaps you are right. Maybe I’ve been too radical in my research…’
“(AlCleric) ‘Putting on airs will do that to you. When we believe we are larger than a mote of dust in the cosmic scheme, we will become the stomping elephant demanding attention.’
“(Hublin) ‘What did you just call me?”
Bipp scanned the rest of the document in silence. When he was done, he rubbed his eyes and turned to Isaac. “They go on like that for a bit, arguing back and forth. Honestly it’s a bit grating to think of our holy men flinging insults like a bunch of spoiled children. They don’t come off much better than the accused, the way they behave.”
“Necromantic magic has a way of seething into those around it,” Isaac said. “There are many accounts of would-be necromancers being discovered by outbreaks of madness and lunacy around their sanctums.”
“That’s an interesting possibility,” Bipp said. “This cleric, Hublin, goes on berating the tribunal about their inaction toward the cobolds, a threat which he believes is more important than any they have ever faced. In the end, they threaten to have him excommunicated, but he renounces the Guild before they can do it, vowing to leave the city and never return until he has found the power to wipe out every last cobold in Vanidriell.”
“Well, he’s quite a serious gnome, isn’t he?” Isaac said.
Bipp tried to relate to Isaac’s levity, but there was something about the account that threw him off.
Over the next few days Bipp found himself becoming obsessed with the cleric, searching through the catacombs tirelessly for some other clue as to what happened to him. Periodically he would come back to the scroll, rereading it as if it might present some missed clue and trying to picture a time when Ul’kor was a great beacon of light in Vanidriell. What must it have been like for this cleric to stand by while a growing threat developed in his homeland, one that wiped out entire townships on the outskirts of the great gnome empire?
He tried to imagine what he would have done in those days. Would he have kept his head down and done as he was told? That was, after all, what the Tribunal was really ordering Hublin to do, wasn’t it? Doubt lingered in Bipp’s heart. He himself was an oddity among his people. Bipp might be a cheerful gnome, always trying to see Ohm’s humor in the way of things, but that didn’t mean he was a fool. He knew that as much as his people cheered him on as a hero, they would be far happier for him to just stay at home and mind his own business.
Hublin’s words echoed in his head for days, until finally the group had had enough. Too much time was passing by, and Corbin was itching to get back on the road.
It was with a heavy heart that Bipp entered Mayor Fimbas’s library to face his friends. Logan, Isaac, and Fimbas were gathered around the table, the mayor pointing out the most direct route to the ruins.
Logan looked over his shoulder, hearing the door open as Bipp entered the room. “Hey, there you are. Thought you got stuck in traffic.” It was odd for him to see Bipp, who would normally laugh at his cheesy jokes, just shrug. “Hey, everything okay?”
Bipp shrugged again.
“Mayor Fimbas, sir, I apologize for the interruption,” one of the guards said, poking his head into the office, “but Hablson is at the front gate.”
“Well, show him in already,” Fimbas said.
“That’s just it, sir, he isn’t here to see you,” the soldier said. Fimbas raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s Bipp, sir. He’s here to speak to with the engineer.” The guard turned his attention to Bipp. “But he says you must come outside.”
Bipp looked around at his friends, uncertain what was going on. The most interaction he had ever had with Hablson was when he used to sneak into his yard and steal crab apples in the spring. And that was when he was only twenty years old, barely a pup in gnome years.
“Go on, Bipp,” Logan said. “We’ll meet you by the gates.”
Bipp followed the soldier out of the mayor’s office and found Hablson waiting for him on the marble steps outside town hall. The old gnome was wringing his hands and mumbling to himself, staring out into space. When Bipp came down the steps, he snapped out of it and stood at attention.
“Mr. Hablson?” Bipp asked. “They said you were asking for me?”
“Not me, my grandpappy,” Hablson said.
“You don’t mean old man Gophlin?” Bipp asked.
“Yes sir.”
“What would that old grump want with me?”
“If you come along, I can explain on the way,” Hablson said, standing to the side and holding out his hand for Bipp to pass.
Bipp decided the situation was too odd for him not to be a part of it, and he complied. The old gnome was surprisingly quick on his feet, enough so that Bipp had a hard time keeping up.
“Your friend came to visit grandpappy the other night with Mayor Fimbas.”
“Yeah, they told me they stopped by.”
“Hmm, well, did they also tell you how agitated they made the old coot? I bet not. Poor old grandpappy hasn’t been right since.”
“Is he sick?”
“He’s something. Every night since their visit, he’s woken the whole house with his screams. When I run into his room, I find him covered in sweat like you wouldn’t believe, and he shakes…oh, how he shakes something fierce, until he finally falls back asleep. Takes a whole gallon of pumpkin ale to do the trick, too. Tried to stay by his bed the other night, so I could figure out what’s going on with him, and let me tell you, it was downright creepy. Great-grandpappy moans and shakes violently in his bed, and he keeps calling out to Mona. Mona…no, stop, don’t, keep running.”
“Who is Mona?”
“Mona was Great-grandpappy’s sister. She died years ago. Caught the yellow fever and died in her sleep.”
“That’s awful, I’m so sorry,” Bipp said.
“Anyhow, we had the doc come round this morning. He says the old war horse is finally going to be put out to pasture.”
“How long does he have?”
“Doc said it’d be a miracle if Grandpappy makes it through the night. That was when he started calling for us to get you.”
“Doc did?”
“No, you idjit, Great-grandpappy Gophlin.”
“What’s he want with me?”
“Can’t say that I know,” Hablson said, stopping to face Bipp. “Why don’t you head inside and ask him yourself?”
Bipp was surprised to see they had already arrived at Gophlin’s house.
He followed Hablson inside, through the cluttered mess, and entered Gophlin’s immaculate room, where the oldest gnome in Dudje lay in his bed, wheezing.
If Bipp had seen the gnome three days ago, he would have been astonished at the transformation he had undertaken. Gophlin’s skin had become a sickly yellow, drooping in heavy bags under his sunken, bloodshot eyes, and looked too loose over his frail body. As soon as Bipp entered the room, he could smell the stink of sweat and something else, like the lingering of death.
Bipp walked quietly to the bedside. The old gnome looked so weak he did not want to disturb his sleep. Maybe it would be better if he came back some other time. He decided that was best. What was he doing here, anyhow?
Bipp turned to walk out of the room. The floorboard creaked under his shifting weight, and Gophlin’s eyes popped open.
“Eh, is that you, Hablson?”
Bipp winced. He turned about with a weak smile. “Um, no sir, it’s Brillfilbipp.”
“Who?” Gophlin screwed up his face and squinted at Bipp. He studied Bipp for a long moment, and then a look of recognition washed over him. “Oh yeah…the crab apple thief.”
Bipp wanted to scream that that was sixty years ago, but he gave a polite bow instead. “Your great-grandson said you wanted to speak with me.”
“He did, did he? I’ll bet he just can’t wait….” Gophlin’s voice trailed off as his cloudy eyes wandered to the window. A purple finch had landed on the sill, and it was singing cheerfully. “Mona! There you are, lass. Where’ve you been? It’s been so long. They finally sent you to bring me home, eh?”
Bipp eyed the doorway. This guy’s lost it. When he looked back at Gophlin, the old gnome was staring him straight in the eye. “Lookin’ to head back to Ul’kor, ain’t ye?”
Bipp was astonished at the sudden strength in Gophlin’s voice. “Uh, yes sir, we are.”
“Thought as much. Figured that was why Fimbas was askin’ me all those dumb questions, stirring up the past and whatnot. Be a good lad…come closer and pour me a glass of water.”
Bipp grabbed a ladle of water from the wooden pitcher and filled Gophlin’s stein. In better days, the gnome had probably drunk himself into a stupor using the vessel. Bipp tried to hand it to the old gnome, but he just stared at it. Gently, Bipp brought the cup to Gophlin’s lips, lifting it slightly so the old gnome could sip.
After he had drained the entire stein, Bipp pulled away. Gophlin moved like a viper and snatched Bipp’s wrist before he could move two inches. His grip was as strong as steel.
“Don’t do it, lad. Don’t ye go back to that wretched place.”
“U-Ul’kor?”
“Where else, ye daft fool? Ye don’t know the evil what lurks there.”
“Mr. Gophlin,” Bipp said, struggling to pull his hand free, “I’ve already been there once, already walked the empty streets and explored the ruined halls. The only evil there is a horde of cobolds and enough cobwebs to build a ladder to the surface.”
Gophlin turned a bulging eye on him, moving closer as if he could read Bipp’s mind. “That’s not all ye found in the cursed place though, is it?”
Bipp’s lip twitched. How did the old coot know? “One of t-them bonestalkers tried to steal me away into its lair.”
“You know where them creatures come from, right?” Gophlin asked, pulling Bipp even closer to his face. Bipp shook his head, trying to not breathe in the old man’s stink. “Come from the pits of Hel, that’s where. Called upon by his Dark Majesty, the Necromancer, to keep him fed in his rotting grave. Ye don’t need to go back to that place, lad. Stay home where ye can be safe, where all gnomes can be safe.”
Bipp finally managed to pull free, stumbling back a few steps. “Mr. Gophlin, I appreciate your concern, but I have to go. I have to help my friends. They need to get inside the castle and find the relic that Isaac detected. Without it, we won’t be strong enough to defeat the Crystal.”
Gophlin curled his lip and spat on the floor beside his bed. “Yer just like him, ye know that?”
“Come again?”
“Hublin. That self-righteous healer what brought it all down on us. He spoke of the same things, too concerned with becoming stronger. And in the end, what? Whole damn race woulda been better served if he’d just stayed home.”
Bipp’s lips felt dry. “Y-you knew Hublin?”
Gophlin ignored his question and prodded him with a yellow fingernail. “Ye would risk everything to help a Falian?”
“Logan is not a Falian.” Bipp firmed up his shoulders. “And even if he was, I’d still risk life and limb to help him out. You wanna know why? Because he’s a good person. In fact the whole lot of humans I’ve met thus far have been good people. While you’re in here filling your heart with hatred and anger, they’re out there fighting to keep the darkness at bay. Not because they have to either, because it’d be a Hel of a lot easier for them to tuck tail and run away to some place where they could live the remainder of their lives in relative peace. These people…these friends of mine, they care about others…and that’s everything.”
When Bipp finished, he realized he was breathing hard. He did not know why the old man’s words bothered him so much.
Gophlin fell silent, looking down at his folded hands with rheumy eyes. The curtains to the room shifted, and Hablson popped his head inside. “Everything okay in here?” he asked somewhat timidly, looking sideways at Bipp. “I heard all the shouting and thought maybe it’s time for your guest to be leaving.”
“Nah…let the lad be,” Gophlin said softly, “but give us a few more minutes.”
His great-grandson disappeared behind the curtains, leaving them alone again, and Bipp felt ashamed that he had yelled at the old man. He had always been taught to respect his elders.
Bipp bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gophlin. I had no right yelling at you like that.”
“Can’t say I didn’t deserve it,” Gophlin said. “Ye hit a nerve, though, that much is plain. Been too many years since someone reminded me that there’s more to the world than this stinkin’ bed.”
Bipp was taken aback. The old gnome’s apology just served to make him feel that much more rotten about his rude behavior.
“I was wrong about ye, boy,” Gophlin said, laying his head back against his pillow and curling up under the blanket. “Ye ain’t like that fool of a cleric after all. Couldn’t be, not when yer so full of honor. Not him. He let hatred fill his heart, let it swallow him whole, until finally the shadows could creep in and sway him.”
“Mr. Gophlin, sir,” Bipp said, stopping to lick his dry lips, “did Hublin..was he the Necromancer?”
Gophlin sneered and nodded curtly. “Was power he sought, not peace.”
“To battle the cobolds?”
“Battle ‘em?” Gophlin’s voice cracked and Bipp could see he was worn out. “Wanted to wipe them off the face of Acadia, like a stain on a map.” Gophlin groaned and turned on his side, motioning for Bipp to come closer. His voice was barely a whisper now. “Wanna tell ye something I ain’t never so much as dared think about in all these years. Ain’t got much time left before Sondri comes to take me.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Bipp said. “A little rest and you’ll be right as rain.”
Gophlin weakly waved his hand. “I’ve had enough rest for three lifetimes, lad. Only reason folks say things like that is to make themselves feel better about death…like tellin’ yerself it’s not my time. Don’t you frown though, I’ve had it good, even if I did turn into an old grump in the end. Walked the caverns of Vanidriell for far longer than any gnome has a right to.”
Gophlin sighed and closed his eyes. Bipp waited for him to finish, but his breathing grew heavy. After a few moments he began to snore.
“Mr. Gophlin,” Bipp said, gently nudging the gnome, “you said you had something else to tell me?”
“Hmm?” Gophlin’s eyes were cloudy when he opened them. It took them a moment to focus on Bipp.
“About Hublin
?” Bipp prodded.
Gophlin’s face screwed up as if Bipp had just cussed at him. “Don’t ye be sayin’ that name ‘round here. He’ll hear ye.”
Bipp looked around the empty room. “Who?”
“The Necromancer, who else?”
“That was ages ago, sir. He can’t still be alive after all these years.”
“Why not? I am.” His voice was brittle as withering leaves on a fall day. “Ye be prepared when ye get there, boy. He’ll be waitin’ for ye.”
A chill ran up Bipp’s spine. “Y-you really think so?”
Gophlin’s head moved a fraction of an inch. “Know so. But…but….” He stared at the window where the finch was resting. It cocked its little head and fixed beady black eyes on him. Gophlin stared into them for long seconds before wordlessly opening and shutting his mouth.
Bipp moved forward and pulled the covers up to the old gnome’s chin. He turned to leave, and Gophlin began coughing, small at first then hard hacking sounds, as if his lungs might come up. Bipp grabbed the water and brought it to Gophlin’s lips, waiting until he settled down again.
Gophlin cleared his throat. “That’s better,” he said, though he still sounded dry as bones. “The black tree…ye need to go find the mark on the black tree.”
“The one around Serpent Bend?” Bipp asked. Everyone in Dudje knew about the large lone tree that reached over the Green Serpent River. All the young’uns would tell stories about it being haunted on account of it being charcoal black and devoid of any vegetation.
“Mm hmm…that’s the one. Me da, he took those things from Flarslip when he found out the fool brought them into town with him. He told me all about it one night after a bit too much scrum. Him and the mayor went out and buried those cursed things at the base of the tree.”
“Really?” Bipp blurted. “They were the Necro—er, his things?”
Gophlin had closed his eyes again. The color had drained out of his face and his breathing was shallow. As he sank into the bed, he mumbled, “Ye be careful…he’s waiting for us…ye be ready for it…under the sign of Ferrigan…it’s under him.” Gophlin’s chest stopped moving, and Bipp felt a lump in his throat.
