by C. M. Carney
“I can taste again. This is amazing.” Simon turned back to the remnant. “Thank you.”
I wish I could do more now. I wish I had saved you then.
“I wish I could have saved you too,” Simon said. “But we are both still here and Ouzeriuo is not.”
“But Morrigan still is,” Gryph said, drawing all eyes to him. Gryph had yet to reveal the secret that Aluran was Morrigan. He’d become more reluctant after the Merchant offered a tremendous amount of Perk Points for the information. But now, as he watched the odd interaction between the empyrean soul remnant and the undead teen, he knew the knowledge was not his to hoard.
“Aluran is Morrigan.”
34
The other’s anger, fear and confusion flowed over Gryph like a tsunami. Lex’s jaw dropped, while Simon shook. Tifala traced a duo of concentric circles over her heart and Ovrym gripped his sword tighter. Vonn muttered a mantra under his breath while Errat just stared ahead, an uncomfortable smile of confusion painting his face. Gryph stood his ground and let the emotions flow over him.
Finally, Lex spoke.
“I know you’re not from here dude, but suffice to say in the Realms, especially here on Korynn, Morrigan is like the result of an ill thought out one-night stand between Satan and Hitler, who then gave the child to a 'My Three Dads' style triumvirate of Genghis Khan, Vlad the Impaler and the dude who invented karaoke. He is a boogie man that makes Freddie Kruger and Darth Vader seem like solid choices for a last-minute babysitter. He is…”
“Do you think I don’t know what he is," Gryph said sharply, silencing Lex’s rant. “I saw what he did to Simon. I lived it through the Barrow King’s eyes. I felt Morrigan’s blade enter my skull. So yes, apart from Simon here, I know better than any of you what the man is capable of. Now, I am sorry I kept that information from all of you, but I didn’t know who I could trust then. I do now.”
“I need to go,” Simon said, backing into a corner of the room as if trying to will himself to disappear. “I need to go far away.” His robes shimmered and began losing their cohesion as they morphed back into the oily black smoke.
“Simon, he has no idea you even exist,” Gryph said. “And he never will.”
Tifala placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder, and remarkably the revenant calmed under her gentle touch. She cast an accusing glare at Gryph. “You should have told us.”
“He wanted to protect us,” Ovrym said.
"If Aluran learns that Gryph knows who he is, what he is, then he would use all of his power to hunt him down," Vonn said.
“He already is hunting him, and he does not know that Gryph knows,” Lex said. “You remember, I had dinner with him.” Then, in a sharp move, Lex grabbed at his throat like an upper crust woman confronted with a shock to her sensibilities. “Wait, I had dinner with the man. Did he eat my soul without me knowing?”
“Do you even have a soul?” Vonn asked, drawing Lex’s ire. “I don’t mean to be, what did you call it, a dick, but you’re an ancient artifact mixed with whatever a banner AI is. Do banner AI's have souls?” Lex’s look of sadness suggested that he did not know either.
“Even if you don’t Lex, you’re still a far better man than Aluran,” Gryph said. “That has to count for something.” Gryph looked around to see the others nod. “But Ovrym is right. I thought by keeping the secret I was protecting you, but we are planning to take the fight to him. It is only fair you know who we'll be fighting.” One by one the others slowly nodded. "I know what Morrigan did to Simon and Ouzeriuo, but I don't know much else. Who was he?"
“The ruler of the Old Gods," Ovrym said. “He was terror personified and bore virtually unlimited power. When the other gods discovered he was feeding on souls to gain that power, they rallied the people and rose up against him. The battle to depose him caused the Ruin, and as horrific as that event was, most scholars agree it was worth the cost. What are a few million lives compared to a few billion souls? Nobody knows what he was after, but If Aluran is Morrigan then his hunger has not diminished.”
“We need to tell people,” Simon said confidently. “If they knew the secret, then they’d turn on him.”
“They won’t believe it without proof,” Tifala said, earning a fearful look from Simon. “We have nothing tangible we can point at and say this proves it.”
“She’s right,” Vonn said. “And though it pains me to say it, Aluran has ushered in a new golden age for the people of Korynn. Even with proof, some would refuse to believe.”
“Faith is powerful,” Ovrym said.
“And delusional,” Lex countered and then glanced sideways at Vonn as if in apology.
“Not if you have faith in the right thing,” Vonn responded.
“Then we find proof, irrefutable proof.” Gryph looked around and his eyes settled on a section of the back wall. “And we start right here.” He walked forward and activated Perception. A small imperfection in the stonework drew his attention.
You have discovered a Secret Door.
You have successfully identified a Secret Door and have found the triggering mechanism. You perceive no traps.
Gryph was about to press the trigger with his thumb when Vonn shouted for him to stop. The rogue motioned for permission to examine the wall and Gryph stood aside. A few moments later, Vonn found a second, much better hidden trigger. He pressed it and the sound of metal on stone rose inside the wall. The group took a few paces back as a ten by ten-foot section of the wall swung open. It revealed a large circular room that was familiar the way echoes of a dream can sometimes meld with the realities of life. Gryph, Raathiel and Simon knew the room all too well.
“This is where I died,” Simon said, the spectral bones of his foot easing past the threshold as he stepped into the room. The others gave the undead teen space as he moved about the room, tracing skeletal fingers along the marble slab where his body had been flayed, where Ouzeriuo had begun consuming his soul.
“Why didn’t he finish the job?” Simon asked, his tone anguished. He turned from the spot of his own murder and looked at Gryph, his eye sockets raging with eldritch green fire. “Why did he leave any of my soul behind to live this torture?”
Gryph was at a loss. It was something he didn’t quite understand either. He knew from Simon’s own words that the Barrow King had constructed his mind-verse, the odd dimensional pocket where he retreated like a hibernating bear, using the power of Simon’s soul. But why build it at all? Ouzeriuo was weak, barely clinging to his false half-life after being murdered by Morrigan. Simon’s soul could have sustained him, but instead he’d saved it and tried to consume Raathiel’s, a being whose soul proved too pure for Ouzeriuo to consume.
“I do not know Simon.”
Bring me to him, please, Raathiel said.
Gryph walked up to the teen revenant. Simon flinched, but then nodded when Gryph asked permission to place a hand upon him. The warm glow of Raathiel filled Simon’s mind and flowed through Gryph’s Telepathic Link.
It was fear, Raathiel sent. Ouzeriuo was at heart a coward. As fearsome as he was it was his own terrible fear, of death, of powerlessness, of facing what he truly was, that drove him to commit desperate, evil acts. He used your soul to build a haven, a paradise where he could hide from his fear. He thought he would feel safe there, but he never did, because of you.
“I do not understand.”
The world he built was not his world, but yours. He built it, but you were its architect. It was as much a prison to him as the Barrow. In his eons-long existence, he never stopped being afraid. Do not let his fear become your fear. Do not let his vileness stain your soul any longer. He is gone, and will never return. The only power he has over you is that which you give him. Be free, in your heart, in your mind and in your soul.
“Can I still make an effigy of him and kick him in the nuts a bunch?”
Whatever helps you heal.
“That’s a yes kiddo,” Lex said, smacking the teenage lich on the back.
Si
mon looked down on the Ordonian with a wicked sneer.
“Is that a smile, or are you getting ready to eat my soul?”
Simon grinned again, causing Lex to take a step back. Vonn leaned in.
“If you even have a soul?”
“There is zero conclusive evidence on that front, but right now I’m hoping your right.”
“Tell ya what dwarf,” Simon said leaning down and whispering. “I promise not to eat your soul if you bring beer and babes the next time you visit.”
“I’m Ordonian, not a dwarf,” Lex said with a pout, but then looked up at Simon. “But I like where your … um ... skull is at. We’ll get along great.” Lex rubbed his hands together. “But now it’s time for some looting.”
“For once I agree,” Gryph said. “Spread out. Let’s see what cool shit this asshole has been hoarding.”
35
The group split up, each taking a different part of the room. Gryph insisted that Vonn examine anything suspicious, ensuring that nobody lost a limb, fell into a spiky death pit or got charred by a flamethrower. On his orders, everything they found was to be placed on the stone table at the room’s center. This policy earned a grumble from Lex, but Gryph assured them that all loot would be distributed fairly, with priority given to those who would gain the greatest benefit.
Gryph waited until everyone agreed to the policy, including a reluctant Lex and then crouched down next to Vonn. The Aegyptian was examining the trap Gryph had almost triggered.
“How bad would it have been?”
“Bad. Ouzeriuo was one sick bastard and evidently employed irony in his traps.”
Gryph gave Vonn a grim nod and the onetime thief delicately removed a crystalline vial from a panel in the door. It contained a murky silver black liquid. An intricately carved cap in the shape of a skull, its mouth open in a silent scream, secured the contents. The liquid writhed towards Gryph as Vonn extended the vial to him.
Gryph hesitated a moment then reached for it, but Vonn closed his fingers around it. “Do not drop this, or all of us will join the ranks of the undead.” Gryph’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he nodded and extended both hands like a man ready to hold a baby for the first time. Vonn gently placed the vial in his hands. The moment it touched his skin, Gryph heard a distant howl, like the raging of the wind through anguished mouths. His stomach churned and his Identify talent triggered.
You have found Activated Lich Ichor.
Activated Lich Ichor is a virulent substance derived from the spectral remains of a lich upon which infectious fungal spores have germinated. This insanely rare substance will expand into a gas when exposed to air, creating a cloying cloud of undead fungal spores.
Any living creature that inhales the spores will contract Lich Rot. Left untreated the victims will die and become one of the many types of corporeal undead. These new undead will fall under the mental sway of the Master. If the Master dies, then the undead become feral and will attack any living creature on site.
Current Master: Ouzeriuo.
I saw Ouzeriuo test this foul concoction, Raathiel sent. It would do the world a great service if it were destroyed.
How would one do that?
Empyrean flame is the preferred method. If I had physical form, I could generate it.
I eagerly await the day you can, Gryph sent, saddened that day would likely be far off.
Gryph examined the vile solution and shivered when he noticed a sharp needle inside the mouth of the skull that capped the vial. “It doesn’t expect me to press my finger to that needle?” Before he even finished the question another notification popped into his vision.
Do you wish to become the Master of the Activated Lich Ichor?
Since you have slain the previous Master, you can lay claim to the Activated Lich Ichor. Do you wish to claim mastery? If YES, press your thumb to the needle. If NO, do nothing.
Gryph hated the very idea of the vile weapon, but he trusted his mastery over any others. With a grimace he pressed his thumb against the needle. A sharp pain dug into him and a prompt confirmed he had become the ichor’s master.
He held his breath and placed the vial into his soul bound satchel. It took a moment for it to register, but then, like everything else in his bag, the Activated Lich Ichor entered a suspended state of stasis. It was as safe as it could be, for now, but he longed to place it in the vault alongside the Black Fog. Having the horrific substance on his person was akin to walking around town with a vial of Ebola in one’s pocket. Then a worse thought occurred to him. What kind of horrors would Aluran unleash if he got his hands on it?
Just another terrifying weapon of magical mass destruction I need to stress about, Gryph thought, grinning ruefully at the Lex-like tone of sarcasm intruding into his thoughts. He returned his attention to the room and spotted the cage from Raathiel’s vision, the cage she had spent the last days of her life helplessly watching as Ouzeriuo and Morrigan tortured Simon.
The cage drew his attention like a memorial to a massacre. Glinting at the bottom of the cage was a small pile of diamond like gemstones. Tears of the Coatl, Gryph thought as his Identify talent triggered.
You have found Tears of the Coatl (x11).
Tears of the Coatl are gems of condensed emotions formed when coatl witness acts of deep evil. As an empyrean being, coatl are pledged to serve and protect all life. Murder and torture cause such a visceral emotional reaction in these majestic creatures they literally shed the pain in the form of tears that turn to glittering gemstones of diamond-like hardness. They are more than just symbols of witnessed pain, however. Coatl are psychic creatures and their Tears capture the essence of the moment, including experiences, memories, skills, hopes, fears and dreams.
This rare and valuable ingredient has many uses in both Alchemy and Crafting.
You believe a Tear could make a potion that will increase XP generation by tapping into the memories and experiences of the being whose essence they contain.
You also get the sense that consuming a Tear will allow you to experience the moment that created the Tear as if you were living it yourself. This experience can have a wide range of effects, and some are dangerous. Consume at your own risk.
Gryph’s eyes widened on reading the prompt. If he understood it, then the Tears were a repository of Simon’s memories, assuming they belonged to Simon. But he no longer had to assume.
Raathiel, are these Tears all Simon’s?
No, I witnessed much pain in my final days. Five of the Tears are Simon’s, three belong to Ouzeriuo, two to Morrigan and one is my own.
Morrigan, Gryph sent, shock, fear and elation mixing in an odd mélange in his brain. Can these memories hold the secret to defeating the High God? Can you tell me what they contain?
No, for Coatl emotions are much more visceral and powerful than mortals. We cast off the tears not only as a record of the experience, but to exorcise the pain, the horror, the evil. We do this to protect our own psyches. I remember what they contain the way you retain an ill-remembered dream, but the emotional power of those memories exist only inside the Tears themselves.
But you showed me the memory of what was done to Simon, Gryph said in confusion.
What you saw was only part of what he experienced and what I witnessed. Only by consuming a Tear can you know the full context of the memory. If you concentrate on one, you will learn whose essence it bears. But I beg you to heed the warnings. The experiences secured in the Tears are much more visceral and potent than the memory I shared with you. Some who consume a Tear do not survive the experience, and it forever changes all who do.
Emotions warred with reason inside his mind. The Tears might hold the key to defeating Aluran, or the architect of Gryph’s doom. He warily scooped the Tears into his palm, each one sending a small jolt of malaise into him. I must never let Simon know these exist. He would demand them as would be his right.
But they would destroy him, Raathiel agreed.
Gryph eased them into his s
atchel and watched as they auto-sorted into his inventory, a part of his mind amazed at the wide variety of dangerous items he’d collected in his short time in the Realms.
If, when, I experience the Tears, will you aid me?
Or souls are melded, now and forever. If you deem it necessary to bear witness to what the Tears contain, then I will be there with you. But, for now, I must rest and regain my strength. With your assent I wish to enter a regenerative state.
Of course. Are you not well?
I believe I will be, but I must rest. Until we erase my XP deficit, even this conversation is taxing. I fear, if I exert myself too greatly, I may never awaken again.
Conserve your strength and I will work off your debt.
My deepest gratitude to you. I hope to see you soon.
Rest and we will speak again.
Raathiel retreated deep into the recesses of his mind and though he still sensed her, he felt diminished by her distance.
Her evanescent glow, that had been her marker in the physical world, dimmed and faded to nothingness. A sadness filled Gryph at the loss, and he made a silent vow to that he would work off her XP deficit as quickly as he was able. If only out of a selfish desire to get her back.
Gryph’s attention returned to the room and the growing pile of interesting items his friends had collected. Gryph walked to the table. Lex gave him the excited look of a child on Christmas morning. “Is it time to loot this bitch?”
“It's swag time,” Gryph said with a grin, discovering that even he was not immune to the joy of loot. He looked down on the pile of items and activated his Identify talent.
36
The pile of treasure in front of Gryph was impressive. Using his Identify talent he separated it into magical and non-magical. Looking down on the pile raised his suspicions. Why hadn’t the Barrow King used these items? Surely, it could have helped him over the long millennia of his half-life. “Why would Ouzeriuo not use this stuff?”
