The Mists of Erantia (Realm of Arkon Book 7)

by G. Akella

  "Yes?"

  I steeled myself, preparing to hear another wild quest. Thankfully, it ended up being much simpler than that.

  He paused for a moment. "You are a dreamer, prince," he resumed. "With the Eye of Haiyer, you can show us how the legion perished. Conducting a vision to the Eye is not the most pleasant of experiences, but..." Gunbrand sat across from me, and placed his immense fists on the table. "We wish to know how the Sixth Legion died."

  "I will show you, as long as someone explains to me what I must do," I answered with a shrug. "But I will have a request in return."

  "Speak it, then."

  "I want the son of Scitti and Darna, the daughter of Master Gorin, to see what I will show you. Scitti was a simple legionnaire of the eleventh century. Bring his son and your artifact."

  "There's no need to bring him," the thane said in astonishment as he looked at one of the elders.

  "What... what did my father do?" the latter's voice trembled.

  Sheesh, spoilers! I chuckled to myself.

  "You will see everything in the vision, elder."

  Black hair, a carefully trimmed beard, hazel-colored eyes—I had never seen Scitti in my vision, so I had no idea what he would look like. The son had become much more the master than his father had ever been. Grandmaster Torvard... Scitti had only been an apprentice when he died.

  The dwarves' power structure was rather odd. Even when I was in the catacombs, Donut's explanations brought me to the realization that these people's craftsmanship was everything to them. All of the elders at the table bore the rank of "Grandmaster." Everyone but the thane. "Metal Whisperer"—I reckoned only the stars could be higher. What was it in mathematical value? Or was it beyond any scale of measurement?

  They brought the artifact and set it on the table. I looked at my future tablemates and realized that Raey's father had been right. All of those manes the developers of the last era had given these dwarves had been replaced with neatly trimmed, short beards. The world had changed. The idiocies of the initial design were disappearing. The beards had to remain, of course—this world was more full of traditions than the Library of Congress was of books. Though maybe a short beard did offer a bit of protection for the face?

  I didn't have to wait long. No longer than five minutes. At the thane's command, the gray-haired dwarf who enter the room placed a small, spiny half-sphere before me. The Eye of Haiyer looked like a half-chestnut. I was not eager to begin my new job as demon projector, but it was at the thane's personal request, after all. And all of those warriors deserved this. They deserved the chance to have their descendants see their feat of bravery.

  Just put your hand on it, and remember," Gunbrand instructed me. "It will hurt. But what is that pain compared to..."

  I nodded, closed my eyes, and enveloped the artifact in my hand. I felt no pain. The feeling was like putting my hand over a trembling kitten. An unreal lightness seized my whole body, and my consciousness ordered itself so completely that I could have watched any memory as if it were my own personal MeTube. Or so it seemed, at least. I needed a minute to deal with these feelings. Once I was ready, I reached out and...

  "What are you grinning at?" Drang gave Scitti a frowning, sour look. "You're a grownup now with a son of your own, but you're just as hyper as you were thirty years ago..."

  It was not a vision. I knew perfectly well who I was, where I was, and why all of this was happening. I was a third-party observer, locked inside the body of one of the legionnaires. I sensed and felt everything he did, yet I could do nothing to affect this world, but I KNEW... Every second, I knew what would happen next. And once it was all over, I reached out again, to show the moment Kirana arrived with her companions, returning to her ruined temple.

  Attention! You have garnered the attention of a higher being. Setara, the Goddess of Justice, is friendly to you.

  You can use Setara's Shield no more than once every fifteen days.

  You can also use the Shield on any of your allies. This will create a protective dome ten feet in diameter at a distance of no more than one hundred feet away from you.

  Setara's Shield dispels all hostile spells and protects you and your chosen allies from all types of damage and curses for 20 seconds.

  When I opened my eyes, a deathly silence reigned in the hall. It was like the end of a tragic film at the theater, like that moment when no one in the audience dares to breathe. The thane slowly rose. His hand gripped the handle of his mug so tightly that I could see his knuckles whitening even from an appreciable distance. The elders rose after him. I carefully took the massive mug that had been placed on the table before me and rose to my feet, as well.

  The thane spoke, his voice shuddering. "The legion never retreated. Not a one of them turned his back to the enemy." He looked at the elders, then raised his mug in a salute. "Let us drink to all those who lie in the Saakum Gorge."

  And so we drank. Gunbrand approached the fireplace and poured the last of the beer out on the coals. It blazed brighter than it might have if he had poured gasoline on it. As the thane turned back to me, I saw the surprise on his face. He looked at the banner on the altar, then returned to the table, his visage the definition of pensive.

  As soon as everyone had sat at the table once more, Torvard spoke. The grandmaster looked like he had just won a thousand dollars in the lottery—and then received a letter informing him that, no, there had been a mistake: he had actually won a million.

  "My father was wrong," he said with a sad smile on his face. "Grandfather loved him as his son, but he treated him as a student, for he believed that you had to truly understand metal and stone before crafting anything of true value. I spent five hundred years as one of his pupils." He turned to face me. "Will you see him again, prince? The companions of gods can visit their relatives, can they not? Why has he not come to see us?"

  "His ascension to companion of the Goddess of Vengeance was not immediate," I said with a shake of the head as I returned my mug to the table. "Kirana returned less than six months ago. He was not in her retinue when first I met her. And now that the Great Forest and the Kraet Peaks are threatened by an invasion of the Ancients, he cannot leave his Mistress' side."

  The thane joined the conversation. "What is this danger that threatens our people?"

  "The Ancients have no desire for the Great Forest, but for the Source of Power hidden within your mountains. And now even I have some idea of its location."

  Gunbrand rubbed his temples wearily, looked at the altar once more, and shook his head.

  "I'm growing more and more certain that it's no accident the relic picked you," he ventured as he pulled out his pipe. "I assume you plan to tell us what you know about this invasion?"

  "It'll be a long story, but..." I looked around the table filled with dishes and small kegs." You guys have great beer, so I'm game."

  It was indeed a long story. I started with my initial arrival in this world, but mentioned only those things that pertained somehow to the invasion of the Ancients and to the coming war. Which included the incomprehensible Prophecy, the meetings with the gods, the winged rulers of Lemuria, the Ancient Paths, the war in the Gray Frontier, the White Dragon, and the conversation with Syrat. I showed them on a map where I believed Cheney and his bastards were residing, in the Azure Valley.

  The dwarven beer truly was magnificent. It was bitter and dark, just like my old favorite, Guinness, but a good deal more dense. I ate a few dozen different kinds of fried and smoked sausage, dried fish, and stewed vegetables along with it. During my story, I decided that the next time I wanted beer, I would drop by Stoneforge for it. Even though my limit on building portals was once per day, I didn't care. I could spend the night here, in a Stoneforge tavern. As long as I brought Max and the others here to keep me company.

  The more I spoke, the darker the face of Stoneforge's ruler became. The elders kept silent, only occasionally asking a clarifying question and then resuming their listening. As for me, I was rather e
njoying the whole affair. The beer was beginning to create a pleasant buzz in my head, the breastplate endowed to me by the dwarves lay in my bag, Setara had given me another useful gift, and my shoulders were at last free of this quest I had received six months ago. As for what lay ahead, well, I didn't want to think about that now. All that would come later. Gunbrand was right, though—coming here with the quest was incredibly good timing. The dwarves were already here in the mountains, making their plans. And they weren't the only ones...

  "So the Ancients will reach the Great Forest this very summer?" the thane asked once my story had reached its end.

  "That is what the elves told me." I shrugged. "Maybe you should ask them yourselves. The undead and the demons are gone, so the border is open."

  "Yes, thank you, prince."

  Gunbrand rose from the table once more, proceeded to the altar, and stood still with his hands behind his back for a full five minutes. At last, he turned around to face the table of seated elders, looking much like a dwarf who had just settled on a hard decision.

  "Tomorrow, I will speak with the king." He glanced at me. "If he has any questions, I will send the ambassador with them, who will also deliver the missing equipment from that set to you. You already have the belt, the gauntlets, and the breastplate. A god's armor cannot be imitated, but we will find a replacement that works adequately enough."

  "But—"

  The thane stopped me immediately. "No, prince. You cannot attack the companion of the Cursed God in what you are wearing right now. Or do you really still think you have not helped my people, even after all you've just told us?" He smirked and sat down, then continued. "The strength of Myrt is in that shield you bear, so we will not send you a shield. As for your sword, I have forged weapons all my life, so I understand a bit of the craft, but even I cannot tell what power is hidden in that sword of yours. One final thing: When I poured that ale into the hearth, I heard a response. One I only understood after you had told me your story." He nodded towards the altar, then returned his eyes to mine. "You will see them again, Dark One. I do not know when, nor what you must do first, but they will come to you. The relic indeed chose you for a reason!" He stood yet again, and raised his mug in a toast. "Many mugs we have drained for the dwarves, but now we drink to you, prince. We drink to the defeat and death of Teiran and all who stand behind him! We drink to your success and good fortune! Let it be so!"

  At that, the elders of Stoneforge stood, too, and lifted their mugs just as high.

  "Aye, we must drink to that," I said with a smile, rising to my feet in one accord with them. "Let the bastards croak and be gone from the realm!"

  Chapter 17

  "Stop getting on my nerves!" Assurance of imminent death flashed in the eyes of the necromancer's daughter.

  "Freaking barbarians!" Reece rolled his eyes so much I thought he would never get them to look straight again. "I just don't understand all this modern art. How am I supposed to compose an ode to our prince now?"

  "If you start singing, all of The Unicorn's staff would quit then and there," Raena jabbed.

  "They're more likely to run at the sight of auntie's leotard," Reece shrugged. "You saw how pale in the face the receptionist got yesterday?"

  Vaessa looked around for something heavy. Failing to find anything suitable, she gave a dismissive wave and turned away.

  But Reece wasn't done. "There are certain advantages to having everyone run away, you know. No waiting in long lines in town. No noise. Easy access to booze. Plus, nobody to distract you from the town's wittiest mage!"

  Five of us remained at The Unicorn. The others had already gone to the temple. Jin Ho had gotten to work as soon as he arrived in Vaedarr. All of the participants in the upcoming raid had been divided into parties that very same day, with time to spare for hard training.

  Vaessa, Kan, Reece, and Raena had just arrived in the city the night before. But I had decided that only the necromancer's daughter and the mage would accompany me. Kan and Raena were not allowed into the tomb, and resetting their stats for just one raid would be about as bright as folding with two aces in Texas Hold'em. I didn't know what system Jin Ho used to split up the people into groups, but it really didn’t matter to me. Distracting someone like that with questions was usually a waste of precious time. Fighting with a legion was quite different from your typical dungeon raid, anyway. And there were plenty of teachers I could ask in Craedia and Alcmehn. I could even go visit my father-in-law, and ask Saad Khor himself to teach me how to lead a legion. I could take any other dungeon with Kan, if need be. He and Raena alone could handle any boss without the need for meticulous tactical planning.

  In this catacomb campaign, the tank had one sole objective: to draw Teiran's aggro and get him to turn his back to the raid. And I had ten bodyguards with me to assist. Eight healers and supports, plus Vaessa and Reece. The latter two weren't participating in the general training sessions, as they would be just nuking the boss alongside me.

  Once Jin Ho realized he would not find a better candidate for the tank, he introduced me to the eight, and we said nothing more on the subject. The Korean man and his Chinese wife were quite the characters. It was a little distracting when two major players looked like the two main characters from an anime about a sorceress, but once you talked to them a little, you soon realized they probably carefully customized their appearance for specific psychological reasons.

  Two days after my visit to Stoneforge, Gorvin came to the inn with three ten-liter barrels of the ale I had liked so much. He inquired after a few details, and then struck up a personal conversation, telling me a big secret: the seven legions of the Mountain Kingdom would fight the Ancient Gods if the elves confirmed the information I had provided and an agreement was reached between them. Of course, the beer was accompanied by five pieces from a set of armor, rings, and amulets. The armor included a helm, shoulder guards, bracers, fauld, and boots, all part of the Fury of the Stone Dragon set. They were forged of titanium, painted black, and gave a +40% bonus to constitution, +5 to all max elemental resistances, and full immunity to stun. I selected one of the four sets of rings and amulets presented to me; since my job as tank required as high a chance of critical damage as possible, I chose a set that boosted crit chance by 7.5% and maximum crit damage by 15%.

  I refused the earring, though—I wasn't about to trade my black fox for anything...

  "Prince? Are you here?"

  "Yes. What is it?" I pushed the vision of the black-tailed beauty from my mind and saw the mocking looks of all my companions seated around the table.

  "Indeed, dar," Reece said, feigning seriousness, as always. "If I were you, I would try to marry both of them..."

  "What are you talking about?" I smiled.

  "I just know you better than anyone else here," the mage replied with a shrug, "so I bet I know what you're thinking about when you have a look like that on your face. It will make for an epic ballad, don't you think? The dreadful prince, surrounded by two stunning beauties..."

  Damn, was it really that noticeable? Eager to change the subject, I turned to the knight-commander.

  "You wanted to tell me something, Kan?"

  "Right." The warrior pushed his plate and mug off to the side, unfolded a map across the table, and looked up at me. "You've heard of Arkaetania, my prince?"

  "The dead princedom a hundred miles north of the border between Erantia and the Orcish Steppe," I offered, remembering what Jonathan had said. "Movement by the undead has recently been observed in that area."

  "More than just movement," Kan sighed. "Count Daar has hired all of the available troops he could find, and his scouts discovered a huge army of undead gathering in Arkaetania."

  "So unless we stop Teiran, the undead will march on Erantia."

  The knight-commander shook his head. "I'm not sure. But that's not all. You believe that Vill is the one who woke the Ancient Gods, and that the attack on the Great Forest was provoked by those in the Azure Valley, yes?"
>
  "Right. What about it?"

  "Rayan Erast will not be able to send his legions to the Great Forest with such a threat close by. And Myrt and all those with him will stay here." Kan nodded at the respective locations on the map. "Vill's no idiot. I believe the Ancients will reach the Great Forest within a month. He will attack along with them. Otherwise, why would he be gathering this army? Perhaps if you do successfully destroy Teiran, the undead will invade the Orcish Steppe instead of Erantia."

  "I don't care where they're invading, orc lands, human lands, whatever lands, he must be stopped!" I stood up from the table. "Come on, Reece and Vaessa. We've got to go."

  The knight-commander smiled. "I'm not going to say farewell, all right?" He looked at the mage. "Take care of our earl, young man."

  Reece nodded. "Of course." He touched Raena's hand, and rose to leave.

  In the square in front of the main temple building—the one Donut and I had already visited—people were gathering like a crowd on market day. Hundreds of players preparing for the raid assembled around the twenty-foot-tall statue of Myrt opposite the terrace. NPC mages stood stationed every thirty feet or so along the fence, plus a dozen paladins guarding the temple entrance and rows of guards lining the steps down to the square.

  I sensed something was wrong even before entering the temple. There was something I had missed, something I had failed to consider. Something was amiss, gnawing at me. The statues of the heroes of Vaedarr watched us as if they were saying farewell. But what could I have missed? Is my mind just playing tricks on me? I had my talents and stats in order. Ice Blade and Tongue of Flame were tier 14 talents, ready to inflict max damage. I put my last point into Power of Primordial Chaos, increasing the might of my Chaos spells by twenty percent. What else could there be? Yet, despite my best efforts to calm it, this feeling of alarm only intensified. I stopped and took a look at my stats, just in case.