The Elder Demon's Dilemma (Realm of Arkon, Book 9)

by G. Akella

  Linara moved to be beside me once again, but kept her eyes on me, awaiting my answer. The worst part was that I had no idea what the hell to say. But I had to say something.

  "The Barrier - is that the boundary between our worlds?" I inquired dryly, looking straight ahead.

  She nodded. "It can only be crossed by the gods, or those who are carrying out their will. I just realized that last part. I didn’t believe what you told me about Sata at first. Forgive me..."

  "Sata has nothing to do with things this time. I don’t know exactly who tossed me into this world, but that doesn’t matter. I have to reach the Graveyard and speak with the dead dragon Greiharm. Only then can I leave this plane. The temple holds someone or something that can help me cross the Great Swamp quickly. Perhaps some kind of item. That’s all I know so far."

  "Do you have any idea who Vill is?" Linara asked with wide eyes. The rage inside me, which had been sleeping this whole time, was suddenly roused.

  But it wasn’t too bad. I suppressed it, satisfied that things inside me were working as they should. The positive emotions given off by the girl had been ignored, but now when Linara was truly scared, my mental resistance was activated and blocked the wave of fear heading my way. And that hadn’t even been an attack, though, but simply her emotions which should, in theory, bypass my resistances! Could sentient beings learn a resistance against effects like hers? Perhaps the System had been wise to toss these little creatures into another, isolated plane of existence? Along with the frogs and the dead dragons…

  "What are you smiling about? Do you think I’m kidding? Do you think this place called the Temple of the Damned is a good place?"

  "You’re funny, you know that? Look, not one minute ago, I told you I can only leave this plane by visiting these two places. Are you suggesting I stay here forever?"

  Linara’s head sank. "Maybe there’s some other way."

  "You’ve been looking for another way for three thousand years? How’s the search going? Now, it's time to get serious. Tell me what you know, and go back home."

  At that, something shifted drastically in Linara’s eyes. The frightened butterfly was gone, and in her place stood a determined, cold-blooded warrior.

  "I’m not going back on my decision." The girl shook her head, then looked towards the swamp, still unseen in the distance. He anger was audible. "Yes! I’m scared. Very scared. But I’m tired of being scared. We must go to the swamp. Vill’s temple is a quarter-day flight west, along the swamp’s edge."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes!" Her voice was sharp as a razor. "I am ata kari of the second circle. I have been undergoing preparations for this for all of my life. My father, my mother and Tano Vilata would be delighted to know their daughter and pupil had caught a glimpse of the Way!" She smiled at me. "I think I understand what it means to embrace my fate now, prince. Come - we must get to the swamp before midnight, so that I can cast a Lesser Circle of Defense."

  I nodded, and we continued silently on our way. I mentally gave thanks to the Creator that my Lita’s mood swings were much less frequent than certain other creatures. Though still quite lovely in form, handling this veritable insane asylum on tiny wings was akin to a divine trial!

  Chapter 13

  Akatras. Great Swamp Environs. Zone level: 350-370.

  The magical forest broke suddenly, as often happened when you changed zones. Instead of the giant trees of the forest stood mixed woodlands, and the bright grass gave way to a dirty green undergrowth. The air was clearly damp. We sensed wild rosemary and saw its tattered thickets running pink along the gnarled trees, its sharp smell mingling with the scent of pine needles and scaring away the tiny bloodsucking creatures that dwelt here. The forest of Cenaria had been relatively quiet whereas this place was drowned in the racket of birds. They flocked by the hundred from branch to branch and circled in the sky. For some reason I would have expected more birds in the elven forest, but apparently I was wrong - they preferred the swamp.

  The forest itself had also changed - the low bushes with their bright red berries no longer looked like clean, ornamental shrubs, the colorful hats of mushrooms stuck out of the ground wherever they wanted, and a dark golden layer of last year's pine needles lay under our feet. This forest looked much more familiar to me than any elven forest. Where the elves lived, even the anthills and the butterflies seemed to have been carefully placed for decorative purposes. Here, the creatures were really living. Linara, in contrast, was undergoing the worst cultural shock of her life. I imagined that a young medieval princess experiencing the slums of her city for the first time would have felt the same. Where instead of palaces and smiling merchants, the princess would see crooked, tattered chicken coops, streams of filth in open sewers, and beggars clad in rags.

  The girl’s jaw practically left a trail along the ground as she flew, her eyes wide open. She was dumbfounded, her head turning back and forth to take it all in. Vill and the terrible Dragon Graveyard were instantly forgotten, and her inner perfectionism took hold. All of the Great Forest’s sentient beings were perfectionists. They were created that way by Tolkien, and probably modeled after the Swiss or the Germans of his world. Such was their nature of perpetual improvement of self and their surroundings. Drop them into the midst of some dumpy Russian village and they’d turn it into a fancy resort town in less than a decade. I was glad I wasn’t an elf. My element was Chaos, so a swamp was much dearer to me. All other things being equal, I would always choose swamp over forest.

  "First time outside the forest?" I wondered, trying to save my companion’s sanity.

  "Huh? Oh, yeah." Linara nodded, rubbing her eyes with her fists. "It’s so strange. We hardly ever leave Cenaria. My first time. Only ata kari of the fourth circle and scouts do so regularly. It was one of them who had once stumbled upon the Temple of the Damned."

  "Stumbled upon? I thought you said it was nearby?"

  "It’s completely shielded. Kind of like you, prince. So we have to see it with the naked eye. You’ve no doubt noticed that much of my people’s knowledge and perception of the world is via our emotional sense."

  "Is that why you go back and forth from one emotional extreme to another?"

  "You cannot read emotions without experiencing them yourself. It’s hard for me to explain in words, but ‘ata kari’ means something like ‘walker of the path of creation.' Only a woman can be ata kari - creation is embedded in our nature. Once we reach the fourth circle of devotion, our priestesses can conceal their emotions completely and can sense what's happening around them, up to several hours' worth of flight, and-"

  "And they can go across the border?" I asked, interrupting, as I surveyed the trees in front of us.

  She nodded. "Yes. The scouts fly to Greater Akatras with special amulets. They don’t see very far, but even for them, it is unsafe to approach the swamp. What’s more, the temple only appeared here recently. As if someone moved it here."

  "So how did your scout know that this temple belonged to the Cursed God? Does it have a sign on it or something?"

  She ignored the sarcasm. "Father said that Theortis Greenshade watched the temple entrance for a week, and saw the disavowed dragging unfortunate swampdwellers inside. And believe me, prince, we know the disavowed when we see them."

  I carefully stepped over a toadstool on the road, then looked at Linara.

  "Who are the swampdwellers?"

  "Sentient beings who dwell in the Great Swamp," she explained. "They are emotionally similar to other races. They feel pain. They suffer. And so the scout knew they were tortured and killed inside."

  Tears welled up the girl’s eyes.

  "Enough!" My rage snapped and blocked the incoming wave of hopeless sadness. "Why should I share that suffering right now? I didn’t kill the swampdwellers!"

  She sobbed. "I’m sorry. I still have little control over my emotions. Our outbursts do not affect our own, and I thought you, too, were immune. Your inner states are closed to me, and I can o
nly tell whether you are feeling something or not based on outward signs. I see you’re angry. Aren’t demons always angry, though?"

  Well, the fact that they were not affected by their own emotions made sense. Otherwise, when three friends cried together, their feelings would escalate until they perished from grief. Demons, always angry? How racist of her!

  "If not for my rage, I would have started weeping along with you." I looked around. "We’ll reach this temple and destroy its altar, and no one will ever again torture your swampdwellers."

  "They’re not mine," she corrected, still sobbing. "And you speak as though robbing the altar of its power is a simple thing. That can only be done by the priest of another god. Are you a priest? And aren’t you afraid to incur the hatred of Vill?"

  I snickered at that. "He hates everyone already. A little more hatred, a little less, what’s the difference? As for the altar, well, I’ll think of something."

  I didn’t bother telling Linara that Vill was basically dead. That would lead to me having to tell her everything else, and I didn’t want to deal with the emotional consequences of that. She could fly in ignorance for a little while longer.

  "All right, hero of heroes, let’s get to the temple and see what you say when we’re there." She smiled through her tears and fell silent.

  By evening, the swampland was covered in an impenetrable light gray fog. Shreds of it clung to the trees growing along the shore and slowly stretched toward our camp, but when the moon appeared in the sky, they melted in its ghostly silver light. A wide open dark space opened before us. Grass-covered mounds alternated with open water, all the way to the horizon. A symphony of unusual noises and rustles, each quite unlike the last, rang in our ears. The wings of nocturnal birds flapped powerfully over the water, vague misty silhouettes appeared and disappeared, and dim orange lights flashed in the distance. Bubbles rising from the quagmire gurgled, and something nearby was breathing raggedly, causing a slight chill to run down the spine with each breath. Not my spine, though. None of it bothered me. In fact, to me, it was fascinating. Just like my grandfather’s house when I was a kid. I would sit on the porch at night, gazing into the distant forest, imagining what sort of monsters hid within it. This time, the monsters were real. But like the monsters from my childhood, they didn’t give a hoot about me.

  I exhaled pipe smoke through my teeth and smiled at the sleeping girl. Children of the Forest... Well, "children" was certainly correct. She had spent the day darting around, laughing loudly, and crying even more loudly, and at the end of it all she passed out like a log. Good for her. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t sleep. Linara told me that the Circle of Defense she had put up as soon as we arrived could not be broken by the inhabitants of the swamp. The usual ones, anyway. We could not be seen nor heard. The spell was impenetrable by powers of the mind, smell and heat. But she had continued to say that "usual" creatures were not the only ones who lived in the swamp. The zone's level range was up to 370, though, so with my level, I had no fears. Still, the Circle was handy - if only because it kept the mosquitoes out.

  The light of the moon barely penetrated the clouds in the sky. As night pressed on, the weather gradually deteriorated, and my mood deteriorated with it. I wondered when they would find me at last. Lita had said she could find me without any trouble. But my wife had apparently not taken into account the fact that His Majesty the System was more magnificent than all the gods and elder demons, and had decided to guide me to this final quest on my own. It seemed the cards were being turned face up one at a time. How many remained? First, there had been Merdoc and his warning. Then Syrat and Vill’s companions to explain to me what was actually going on then. Or at least shed some kind of light on the matter.

  Yet, I was certain we would fight the final battle together. The Nameless had spoken of my wife - that had to mean something. Without Lita, I could not complete the Prophecy. So as soon as my friends appeared, things would happen fast. Perhaps they had already entered the portal to this dimension, but would only emerge from it once I had reached the required point. One last question: what had placed the Temple of the Damned in this swamp? Had Vill invaded the realm of another god? Or had Urgot, or whoever their main god was, just let that fly? I found it hard to believe, but if Linara’s words meant what I thought they did, the temple was screened by the blood of the Nameless, so perhaps Urgot simply didn’t know it was here. There was no point to me making any more guesses. Tomorrow, I would find out for myself.

  A loud splash sounded near the shore, and a large but docile animal emerged from the water. It looked like a sloth. A Swamp Yo. Level 372, with three million HP. The animal looked around, yellow irises of its eyes gleaming in the darkness, and leisurely headed for the closest crop of trees. It was as large as a grizzly bear, but with a naked bluish body, a flat face, protruding oval eyes, and wide, curved paws. The monsters are here at last! This harmless Yo looked more cuddly than monstrous, but I could chalk that up to being yet another fulfillment of a childhood dream provided by this world. I still had yet to meet the Loch Ness Monster, but that could wait until the next visit. I smiled at the strange creature, returned my pipe to my bag, and stretched out on my cloak. Time to sleep. Tomorrow ought to be fun.

  We reached the temple as the orange sun kissed the place of its setting. A light drizzle had covered us all day, boosting the squishiness of the ground beneath our feet, but that had failed to slow our movement. Linara flew in the rain without any perceivable difficulty, and asked me questions every flap of the way.

  I answered them. I told her all sorts of things. About the coming of the two-lived to the world, about the Demon Grounds and the Orcish Steppe, about the reunion of the elves, about the Invasion of the Ancients. I didn’t tell her much about myself, and of course I had no title above my head. Letting my guard down wouldn’t have been a smart move. Her level 370 was significant, as was her one hundred and ten million HP, but I wasn’t about to take unnecessary risks. I could always use a healer, so I would keep my identity hidden for now. Linara was no fool, of course, and must have had her theories as to where I had come from, but my origin story was simple enough. I accepted a quest, fell asleep near a temple, and woke up here... Sata and I had spoken in a dream, so the wolves did not touch me. I had become a prince during a game quest. Without the blood of the Nameless helping me, Linara might have suspected something, but as it was, she was satisfied.

  She didn’t offer much information about herself in return. She was the second daughter of the Prince of Gimlad, and along with others her age, had been admitted to the local female institute for noble maidens, for five tiers of training. I had no idea what they studied there, nor why, and I wasn't going to inquire. Instead, I just listened, nodded politely, and thought about my own affairs. Why would I ever need to know about the secret studies of a group of female fairies? They would never let me in thanks to certain anatomical differences. Meaning wings, or my lack thereof. I doubted I would even fit in the door. By the way, the wings were a standard magic buff that increased speed and maneuverability, but they cost a significant amount mana, so these elves only used it when necessary. Yes, elves... These little ones considered themselves just as much elves as those that had remained in Karn. And I didn’t mind. As long as Max and the others didn’t become like them, they could call themselves what they wanted. Flying was great and all, but then who would I swap stories with, and drink with, and fulfill this bloody Prophecy with?

  The Temple of the Damned stood three hundred yards from shore, surrounded by withered trees and looking like a vampire mansion from some Hollywood movie out of last century. Three floors, high pointed windows, and cracked stone walls. The building was surrounded by a low stone fence and, judging by its appearance, none but ghosts could possibly dwell inside. Not a single window on the facade still held its glass, and the double-slope roof had suffered several breaches, through which rotting rafters could be seen. In some places, the fence had collapsed, too. I remembered Linara say
ing the temple had appeared not long ago. But what did "not long ago" mean to these people? I had neglected to ask. Had she meant a hundred years? A thousand?

  "Theortis is right. I do not sense power emanating from this temple at all," my companion said thoughtfully. "How can this be hidden from me?"

  "You’re not troubled by how ruined the temple is?" I carefully peered into the darkened windows. "By the way, you said you couldn’t sense me, either. But I’m clearly here."

  "You’re protected with a powerful mental shield," the girl explained, without turning her head. "And something else. Something... incomprehensible. Its nature is not mental. Nor is it darkness. It’s something unlike anything I’ve ever encountered."

  "Do you think there’s anyone in there?"

  She shook her head. "I don’t know. But Theortis also said that the temple seemed abandoned to him when he observed it from outside. There is no echo of it in our magical perception. Meaning that everything we see might even be an ordinary illusion."

  "All right, let’s go see what’s going on." I put my hand on my sword hilt, just in case, and walked towards the gate.

  "What is that?" Linara asked about the brown film over the entrance. "It’s not magic. I don’t understand it."

  The temple gates were rectangular in shape and attached to pillars of large gray stones tightly fitted. The iron doors, though open, were starting to rust, making the incomprehensible inscriptions they bore even less comprehensible. A more inquisitive mind might try to clear the rust and decipher their meaning, but that definitely wasn't me.

  Temple of the Damned. Level restriction: NA. Maximum party size: NA. Unique. Open.

  I had never even heard of brown dungeons. "Unique" meant I only had one attempt to clear it, but I didn’t know what "Open" meant. The Chronicles had nothing to say about that. Not that it made a difference. I turned to Linara and nodded at the gate.