Restoration: The Rise of Resurgence: Book II

by Joshua W. Nelson

  At least we now had a name for it. Still, I wasn’t seeing how we were going to get this thing without having to kill an old and blind monk. I figured I could always try the direct approach.

  “Master Monk, we have a desire to fulfill the oath we made to the woman who aided us in our time of need. We did not believe there was anyone alive guarding the Vivre Stone, and we have no desire to fight you. All I can do is ask for it. May we have the Vivre Stone?”

  “Before I answer that question, I have one for you. How was it this woman aided you?”

  “She was able to tell us the words to lift the bridge across the lake.”

  “She read the ancient text? She understood it?”

  “Yes, Master Monk. Apparently she is from the time of ancient magic and has dwelled in the swamp since before it was bogs and muck, when it was filled with light and joy and trees as far as the eye could see.”

  “Della? Could it be?”

  “I am sorry we never received her name, and we thought it rude to ask.”

  The monk shook his head at us and said, “It is of no consequence. I cannot simply give you the Vivre Stone. Tradition dictates that you must best me in order to take it.”

  Before I could tell the monk we really didn’t want to fight, he continued. “Tradition, however, is open to interpretation. When first I took up the mantle of guardian of the Vivre Stone, I was told that it would take ‘strength, speed, knowledge, and more than a little luck to always win the day.’ I have been here many years, and during that time I have formulated my own challenge.

  “One of you must best me in a feat of strength. Another must compete with speed. The third test will search your knowledge. And the last, I have learned, has more value than the other three combined. Life relies on luck more than any of us could know.”

  It was clear to us who would go where, and thankfully we were well poised to face such a challenge. With their bonuses, Dan, Jason, and Wayne all had over 100 points in their respective Stat. My Chance was actually higher than all of theirs, but the guys thought I was sitting at 23, or 36 with bonuses, when in reality I was far north of 200 because of the tweak in my character by the Wanderer.

  There were no long drawn out ceremonies. When we accepted, the Monk brought out a stump, set it in front of him, and placed his elbow on the top. It was obvious what this was, and Wayne didn’t hesitate to lock hands with the Monk. Without saying go, the Monk immediately tried to slam Wayne’s hand down on the stump.

  Wayne’s hand traveled all of four inches and then stopped, quickly. The Monk looked up at where he knew Wayne had to be sitting and simply said, “Oh.”

  The next moment, Wayne slammed the monk’s hand down on the stump and the competition was over.

  “That was rather unexpected and quite enjoyable. Thank you, sir,” the Monk said, walking away and into the patch of forest that surrounded us. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that.

  As I circled around a rather large tree trunk, I stopped dead in my tracks. In front of me was an obstacle course of death—swinging pendulum blades, pits with sharpened sticks coming out of them, and raised logs running the length of the course.

  “The next is simple. All you must do is beat my time on the course. There is only one rule: don’t fall off.”

  “Master Monk, this seems dangerous,” I said, not wanting to blatantly point out that he was blind.

  “It most certainly will be for whomever you choose from your group. I’ve been doing this for longer than some mountains have existed. Although that would be a story for another time. Count!”

  With that, the Monk sprang from the ground onto the first wooden pillar and proceeded to race across the course. He stopped only where the pendulums were, as he needed to listen for their crossing. His time was impressive for a decathlon athlete, forget a hundreds-year-old blind guy.

  Dan spent several minutes looking the course over. When he was ready he winked at us and said, “Got this. Although I’m going to get a little bloody.”

  Before any of us could stop him, Dan leaped up to the first pillar and took off. Fast. Too fast, in fact, as he caught the tail edge of each pendulum blade as he ran. Just the tips of the points, but it was enough to have him covered in blood when he finished.

  “You said there was only one rule.”

  “Indeed. You certainly beat my time, and you were willing to sacrifice a bit of yourself as well, which I find admirable. Next.”

  The Monk brought over the same stump and dumped a couple dozen pieces onto the surface. “This is a puzzle. Your time is limited. Complete the puzzle in sixty seconds, and I will pronounce you the victor. Go!”

  Jason spread his hands over the pieces and laid them all out. Then, for a good twenty seconds, he did nothing but look at the pieces. I was sure he had gone into some kind of shock when I saw his hands fly out to the pieces on the stump. He moved like the wind, and before the time was up, Jason was holding a three-dimensional puzzle of a fruit of some kind. Looking at all the pieces, I never guessed it wasn’t a two-dimensional piece.

  “Dude!” Dan said and gave Jason a high-five.

  “Thanks, Dan. You know why I became an interior designer? Because I love finding a pattern that works, even when you don’t think it should. I seem to be really good at finding the patterns.”

  The Monk took a seat next to the stump and brought out what looked like a cup. I could hear pieces knocking together inside of it. The Monk was either going to throw chicken bones as part of the last test, or we were about to play some Yahtzee.

  And holy hell, it was actually Yahtzee. But not really. There were seven cubes in the cup, and they each had a denomination on them. Where in the classic game you scored points based on the numbers that came up matching or some such. In this game, as the Monk explained it to me, you scored based on the number of cubes that had their marking on top. For instance, three of the cubes only had one side marked, three had two sides, and the last had four sides marked. As the monk showed me the “dice,” he explained the rules and did a quick demonstration.

  After he threw the dice on the table, he ran his hands along the tops. “As you can see, out of the seven culets, I have three marks.”

  I didn’t care that I learned they were called culets, I was going to keep calling them dice.

  “How do we begin?”

  “Simple. Place a culet with two marks in the cup. We toss until the first person gets a mark showing. That person chooses whether to go first or second.”

  I put the die in the cup and rolled it. Out came a mark. I let the monk feel it. He explained that since this was the first round, he also got a roll. Seemed fair, so I wasn’t going to argue technicalities. His came out without the mark, meaning it was my choice. I chose for him to go first.

  The Monk nodded and then placed all the dice in the cup. He closed his eyes and began concentrating. I had no idea what he was doing, but little beads of sweat were actually forming on his brow. After a good thirty seconds, the Monk turned the cup over and out spilled the seven dice. They bounced and rolled, and when they finished, the Monk had five marks showing.

  I gave a low whistle and the Monk smiled. “Good toss I presume?”

  “Five marks. That’s pretty good from what I can see.”

  “Yes, that is a very lucky total. It is now your turn, child.”

  I picked up the cup, put the dice in, and started to shake them around. I thought about how lucky I had been so far in the game and how my Chance really affected the world around me. I can’t say for certain, but it felt like the cup heated up a small bit right before I tossed the dice.

  The Monk had hovered over the dice as soon as they left the cup, but I didn’t need to see the outcome. I knew what it would be. I just hoped the Monk would accept it.

  He ran his hands along the tops once, then twice, and finally a third time. “My luck is good, but yours is great. You have bested all of my challenges and the Vivre Stone is yours. I only ask that you give a message to the
woman who receives it.”

  “It would be our honor, Master Monk.”

  The Monk grabbed a piece of paper and pencil and wrote out a missive. He rolled it up and applied wax and seal. Very old school.

  “Thank you.”

  “Another thing,” the Monk said. He then walked toward the pedestal and turned to Wayne. “Take our Tome.”

  I still had no idea how he was able to tell where Wayne was. I bet he had a smell, like wood fire and musk and elk. Or whatever Barbarians would smell like.

  “As the one who bested me in Strength, this Tome would best suit you. Use its knowledge and spread the legend of the Monastery of Might.”

  “Thank you, Master Monk. On my honor, I…”

  “Don’t you fucking say it, Wayne!” I yelled at him before he could swear to do yet another thing.

  “Damnit. Sorry, Alex,” Wayne said and then addressed the Monk again. “Thank you. I will use the knowledge and do what I can to spread the legend.”

  “There is no more I have to ask of you, then. Please remember to deliver the missive.”

  “Of course, Master Monk. But please, tell me, what will you do now?”

  “Isn’t that obvious, child? I will do as I always have done. Sacrifice.”

  Then right before our eyes, the monk coalesced into energy and transferred into the Vivre Stone.

  Chapter 17

  November 10th, 2043

  We stopped at the cavern where we fought the Mage and collected the items from Constantine’s corpse. As before, Wayne was able to grab Constantine’s body, or in this case, the bones. There was nothing on the body other than the letter received from the King, Constantine’s part of the journal and, oddly enough, another diary.

  The guys agreed to wait until after we were out of the swamp to bury Constantine. We could bury him anywhere we wanted in the swamp, since holding the Vivre Stone cleared a patch of healthy land. However, it reverted to putrid desolation once we left, and game or not, we just didn’t feel comfortable putting someone to their eternal rest in such filth.

  The other benefit of the Vivre Stone was that any mobs from the swamp that entered its range immediately reverted to their previous state. For instance, the Venomous Swamp Snake became a Common Garden Snake. And there was no aggro. We could have owned the swamp if we kept the stone, but there was that damn oath I made.

  Since we didn’t have to worry about mobs, I told the guys I would open up Constantine’s stuff and see what we had. Wayne said he would wait to open the Tome until after we were out of the swamp and he had buried Constantine’s bones.

  The King’s letter was exactly the same as the one Tristan had written about in his diary. It provided a basic location of the Monastery of Might and instructions to clear the Monastery of any irregularities. I also saw the words on the bottom that Constantine was unable to understand, and I could not read them, either.

  I then turned to the diary and hit pay dirt. Without waiting any more, I began to read:

  Day 1

  I don’t understand why Tristan bothers with these things, but he encouraged me to try and put my thoughts down from time to time. If nothing else, he said it would be a testament to the greatest hunt our family has ever accomplished.

  Day 3

  I can’t help but think about my brothers and my father on their own hunts. I truly hope none of them have to traverse terrain as unpleasant as these swamps. The creatures are highly aggressive but only if you get close to them. It has been slow going, but I’ve managed to only anger a few. These did not die easily, no thanks to the vast bogs and marshes that do nothing for footing. If my calculations are correct, I will arrive at the Monastery in another day, perhaps two.

  Speaking of my brothers, I became curious after talking with Tristan about his assignment. I realized only after our discussion that my little brother had tricked me, as he so often did. I thought I could learn from my older brother if his assignment was also taking him to a desolate Monastery. I thought it an unlikely coincidence for Tristan and I to get similar assignments; I would know for certain there was a pattern if Aaron had the same task.

  Despite the difference in our years, Aaron and I had always been close, thanks to Tessa. If not for her, we likely never would have interacted. I miss my sister greatly, and I worry for her safety daily.

  Aaron, I don’t worry for as much. Always the best of us with a blade, even beating Father on one out of six attempts, he could protect himself from danger more than anyone. What worried me was the desert he would need to cross to arrive at his location. His journey would likely be longer than anyone’s.

  As it turned out, I didn’t need to trick Aaron at all to get him to open up about his letter. He was so angry that he was just waiting for someone to tell. He threw the letter in my face and told me to see the garbage he had been delivered.

  The only instruction was that Aaron was to travel to the Monastery of…. located in the Globi Desert, confirming my earlier suspicions that something was tying these Monasteries together. The location of the Monastery was unknown to the King and his people. Instead, Aaron was to find a wandering tribe in the Globi—the Jalusi tribe, who were said to be the only group who traded with the Monastery and knew its location. I was no help to him, as I had never heard of the tribe, either. I envy his circumstances less than even my own.

  Tristan was right; it is liberating to write thoughts down.

  Day 8

  I hate this swamp. I hate the King. I hate everything about this assignment.

  As I traveled deeper into the swamp, the beasts became more numerous, and their level of aggression increased the farther I went. What I took to be a short route from the main road to the Monastery took me almost a week’s time. I have finally arrived, and I can see the Monastery across from me on an island.

  I have walked around the bog that surrounds the island and see no way across, save swimming or levitation. Tonight, I will rest, and tomorrow I will cross the bog and enter the Monastery. The sooner I rid this place of whatever has the King worried, the sooner I will return to my family.

  Day 9

  I should be dead. How I survived, I still don’t know. This bog—and likely the whole island—are enchanted with some magic that cancels my levitation. I was one tenth of the way across the bog when my magic just vanished. Landing with a splash, I surfaced and looked toward the island, intending to swim the rest of the way. If I hadn’t seen the wave forming from so far off, I would be a small appetizer for the largest monstrosity I have ever seen. There is no possibility that I can swim this fetid swamp and not get killed by that beast.

  I need to find some other way across. I remember, now, that as I was traveling the swamp on my way to the Monastery, I noted a structure. It was the only one I had seen in the area, and I decided to avoid it. Now I may have to go and discover if anyone lives there. I see no other options to get across to the island. Perhaps, if anyone does live there, they know some secret of this swamp. I only fear that whoever or whatever would call this swamp a home will be aggressor rather than savior.

  Day 10

  I am back in front of this damn island. Surprisingly, the inhabitant of the hut, a witch of some sort, was able to help. There were several words at the bottom of the King’s letter that none in my family could translate. These words proved to be the key. Once I speak them, a bridge of some sort will rise, and I will be able to cross with no worry. The witch asked only for a stone located somewhere in the Monastery. If her assistance actually helps, it will be my pleasure to bring her any stone she wants. I will rest briefly and then enter the structure. My next entry into this book will describe my adventure on the island, I have no doubt. I will have to thank Tristan for the recommendation, I truly enjoy this activity.

  “That was the last entry.”

  “Well, that certainly sucked for him,” Wayne said.

  “No doubt, man, but we knew something like this had to be what happened. More importantly, we have the clues we need to set out
for the third Monastery.”

  “All in due time. Our next stop is to see the Witch and then bury Constantine’s bones. We can figure out what to do about the next Monastery after all of that.”

  “Allister has it right. Not to mention that each of these Monasteries has been close to the level necessary to deal with the story quests.”

  “My thoughts as well, Alex.”

  Keeping in a straight line to the Witch’s hut, we took no time at all to arrive at the location. It looked nothing like what we had previously encountered. The dilapidated hut, which once appeared to be on its last legs, now had the look of a quaint cottage. Flowers bloomed all along the front of the structure, and a small garden could be seen to the side. Small animals scampered around the grove in front of the building, none of them looking dangerous or aggressive.

  The first thing we all noticed, though, was the woman twirling in the middle of the grove, arms out to the side, brunette hair with strands of gray flying around her. She twirled and twirled with a look of unabashed joy. I would have guessed her to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties, as there were a few signs of age on her body. Oh yeah, and she was naked again.

  “Woman, don’t you ever wear clothes?”

  “Alex! You found it! You really found it!” The Witch stopped twirling and came running up toward us, arms spread wide for what would undoubtedly be a massive hug.

  “Uh-uh. Clothes first! Then you can thank us.”

  With the way she looked before, you know, like a witch, I doubt I would have noticed the blush that crept up on her cheeks. Without another word, she dashed back into her cottage. She came back out after only a few minutes, twirling again.

  “Even my clothes! Why would I ever wear those filthy rags you saw? But now my dresses have returned to the beauty they held before. This is more than I can bear,” she finally said before taking a seat on the ground. I wasn’t going to note to her that grass stains probably wouldn’t be good for her new dress.

  I walked over to the Witch and handed her the Vivre Stone. She gently took it from my hand and placed it into a holder attached to a chain around her neck. The stone was a bit large, but I could understand her not wanting it out of her reach. Ever.