“Other then the Legends penned in books? She called me Sir once, and she saved my life.” Fel said with as much conviction Jeria would have given. “That is all I need to know.”
“But as long as we are being Civil,” Fel shrugged slightly, regaining a relaxed composure as he looked between the two of them. “Tell me of Elandra Warstalker.”
<><><><><><><>
"Razzar the Red interfered." Sol'reve reported, bowing low towards Xander. "The Elf is exactly as the tales describe him."
Xander shook his head and frowned darkly. Even with the Gods, Xander knew when someone was telling him a lie.
Yet, Sol'reve was telling the truth.
"I should have expected some random interference from Yergithorn's favorite hero, though it does not matter. I have long added Fel to a list of moves I have to counter."
"Was my failure that expected?" Sol'reve asked, though his smile never faltered.
"No, you attempt had been an unexpected boon. Though I may ask how you escaped unharmed?"
"The only Mortal being to ever face down Magus of Plague and walk away?" Sol'reve returned the question with one of his own. "I learned my lesson with Valor and Honor. The Fighter types are to be fought with subterfuge, yet you should not give Razzar all the credit, your Lord Fel managed to last until Razzar had been attracted by the sounds of glorious combat."
"I did not know he had it in him," Xander observed bemused. "Pity that will not matter against the tide."
"He will die well." Sol'reve agreed grimly.
"Still, it must be Kodae's blood bleeding through. Again, a pity."
"I do wish I could have given this news in person." Sol'reve bowed, and Xander made a dismissive gesture.
"Cautionary reasons, you are an Assassin God." Xander grinned slightly. They were meeting through projections. Sol'reve, as far as Xander was concerned, was not to be trusted and that pillar of salt water had been added to the wall hastily. Despite them telling the truth, Xander of course, could not understand why he just could not believe anything Sol'reve said.
There was just something familiar, and foreign, to the Corsair God of Assassins. Something akin to how Jeria gave Xander a healthy sense of dread, and he did not know why.
Perhaps it had been Sol'reve's alien mind, they were of course, a God born from stock of a Different World. It was not like Xander could openly read it without concentrated effort, it was nothing like peering into a Mortal's thoughts at all.
And then there was Jeria. Xander simply could not predict what that man would do, it baffled him. There had been only real explanation, yet he was not sure even if that could explain it.
"Tell me, Sol'reve." Xander began, shifting in their seat within the room Rebekka Jakuul had graciously given them. "Can you tell me who in the Pantheons has made Jeria Warstalker their Champion?"
"I have not encountered Jeria as of yet." Sol'reve replied after a moment of thought. "But since I failed in my task in killing Fel, do you wish me to discover who has chosen Jeria?"
"No. It doesn't matter." Xander smiled reassuringly. "But only two champions? I am almost insulted."
"Does Razzar not count as one?"
"Razzar is as much of the God's Champion as I am a Lord of Rilstar." Xander laughed sharply. "I have always been sure that the day he dies of whatever manages the feat itself that the entirety of the High Planes would be rocked by an unending conflict between Razzar and what Gods of War he had trumped on the Mortal Planes."
"If he manages to stand against the weight of all those he had impugned, he may very well become Godkin himself. Most of the Muun already worship him as their patron saint of War, and even some of the Northmen call to Razzar to watch them as they maul each other for sport."
"Yet." Xander grinned, stroking the bright, glowing artifact named Cataran's Pearl that sat beside him. "They will all fall to my Invaders. So it does not matter."
"I thank you for your report, and your warning. You have again proven to be a valued ally. I suggest you run, and quickly, while there is still time to," Xander nodded and made a dismissive gesture.
Once the image of Xander was gone, Sol'reve stood there for several long moments before turning to look over the edge of a cliff.
Below him, illuminated by the light of magic, had been a fortress constructed untold millennia ago. It was hidden, far beneath the ground near Mistfire Castle, far to the South of the City of Westwatch.
There were fires being fuel by bodies being placed on a pile and destroyed by Pantheon of Light Priests. Formations of Soldiers were moving around, searching the dark corners and crevices for any sign of the Fortress' former occupants, that being the Undead.
Adventures were there or abouts, doing the same. Yet while the Soldiers went about their duties with grim resolve, the Adventurers laughed as they fought corpse eaters attracted by the hundreds of thousands of dead that lay thickly in the streets.
This had been Ulimax's lair at one point in time, defended by a vast army of the Dead. An Avian Fortress that for some reason, had been either constructed or place here a very long, long time ago. There had been no mistaken the design or architecture, Avians structures were built for beings with wings, and were typically tall, and more often than not, no doors on the streets for beings who could not take flight.
Sol'reve crouched as he watched from his perch, scrutinizing the occupants. There happen to be a particular Din down there, a high-ranking Wizard of the unoriginally named Wizardry of Rals. They were no battle mage of any kind, most of their spells that dealt death were written in scrolls that danced on their chest.
They were experts on Ruins, having studied many in his lifetime that others had studied before. Very few, if any to Sol'reve's reckoning, had ever set foot in an Avian Fortress because they were always well beyond the reach of those who could not fly. Of course there had been Avian rubble, some intact structures emptied and left on their sides having fallen from their lofty perches.
But never something wholly intact.
This mage was ecstatic. Their chest swelled with joy after every line of translated text from the walls they studied or every scrap of parchment or tome that threatened to crumble to dust by the mere prescience of torch light or magical globe of illumination. There had been pride in every word they transcribed to a page as they explored an ancient race that was aloof, recluse and typically unapproachable.
They had recently come across a stretch of carved runes along the baseline of the wall. They were studying, touching, adjusting and shifting around, taking note only that the carvings were fresh, barely a hundred or so years old, and were not Avian in any way.
Sol'reve watched this high ranking Wizard like a hawk stalking prey, knowing that if they had discovered the runes purpose, then they would have to die. If they discovered the power source of the Fortress, then they would have to die.
Xander the true Black Lord, had to believe that they were succeeding. That had been the will of the one who orchestrated this entire affair. Who moved their pieces with cold calculation. Who played their own part, and had asked no more than what they were willing to do themselves.
Ilisu Illithorn, the elder brother of Illindan Illithorn, literally had Death watching every move they made. The wild-haired Din knew something was off with the runes before him. They were Dergathian, an ancient Vampire script that had been well translated by the Wizardry thousands of years ago.
Yet what lay before him seemed to be gibberish. They were a warding, or runes etched for some other purpose, Illisu did not know, but he knew exactly what they were normally used for in other circumstances.
It was more than likely lain down here by the Necromancer Ulimax, which one of the Acolytes he had brought with him had said as such. A long ago experiment that Ulimax did not complete.
"Perhaps," Illisu responded to the assumption, but he was unsure. He had seen the similar sort of wording within these Dergathian runes. Illisu made a note to study them further, later on perhaps, he was more intrigued
in the Avian then he was in something he already knew.
Yet the question started to plague him, and he muttered it out loud to himself.
"But why would Ulimax line the entire Fortress with Runes you'd find in a teleportation chamber?"
To be Continued in The Shadow of Westwatch, Book V;
The Faux Lord
The Bloodied Shield Page 27
