“You know we would follow you to the Gates of Tartarus itself,” Tava said. “For we already have.”
“But we will call you a dumbass if we think you’re wrong.” Nadia added.
“Good. I need all the help I can get to learn some humility, what with me being perfect and all.”
Everyone had a good laugh at that.
“Speaking of dumb decisions, I’m heading back to the Stronghold to let that Fae Scout go.”
“Unseelie Court for sure,” Nadia added. To Hawke’s raised eyebrow, she responded: “Hey, I picked a Lore Skill of 6 during character creation. I know stuff.”
“Any suggestions before I cut him loose?”
“I would like to go with you and use some of my Fae wiles on him,” Nadia said.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Seventy-One
“Bravo!” the Fae Scout said as he slow-clapped. “Well done! Magnificent!”
“You do not sound very sincere,” Hawke told him.
“I am somewhat disappointed. I had hoped to have the honor of making Gregory Ballantine pay for his many misdeeds. Instead, I will now bring back the news that one Hawke Lightseeker, Quarter-Fae by blood but more than that through Self-Awakening, has slain the ghoul, for which he will no doubt expect some manner of boon or prize. Nobody wishes to be the bearer of such tidings.”
“I am sure your mistress will do as she sees fit,” Hawke said. Saturnyx had coached him on what to say and not say.
“And is she aware of the Undead Fae that is now loose upon the Shadowy Foothills?” Nadia asked him.
“I could not say. I did not know of it myself. There were well over two hundred such abominations in Gregory Ballantine’s custody, I believe.”
“You may be right,” Hawke said.
“And as Lord of the Dead, those entities are now in your possession.”
“You could say that,” Hawke said. Never commit to anything if you could help it; that was the best way to deal with the Fae.
“Those aberrations are likely to prove a most troublesome inheritance, Hawke Lightseeker. Those I serve may take an interest in them.”
“We will see. And now, if you will swear an oath by the terms I have outlined, and keep your word, you will be released.”
The oath made every contract Hawke had read look like a basic ‘smile and a handshake' deal. He couldn’t see any way the Scout could violate the spirit of the deal – we let you go and you don’t mess with us – without also breaking the letter of it, at which point the Arbiters got involved and people started dropping dead. The Scout recited back the words faithfully and without any subtle changes in wording or even tone that might be construed as different from Hawke’s intended meaning.
“You’re free to go,” he said, using a mental command to open the cell door. Several magical barriers meant to stop spells and abilities went down, allowing the prisoner to step out.
“Wonderful words to hear. And you are a fine gentleman to be saying them.”
No ‘thank you’ from him, of course.
“I will walk you out myself,” Hawke said.
Now that the Fae was out of the magic-dampening cell, Hawke used his Mana Sight on the former captive as he led him to the western exit, which was the shortest walk and also took him as far away from Orom as possible without having him go through Arachnoid territory. Hawke almost stumbled when his senses revealed the ‘scout’ was much higher level than he appeared, based on the amount of Mana he could see flowing through his body. The skinny guy’s visible stats claimed he only had two hundred and a bit Mana, but Hawke sensed it was closer to eight or nine hundred.
I can only go up or down five levels, but I have a feeling this guy is a lot higher than twelfth level.
No need for speciesism.
They went down a tunnel that ended in a blank wall. Hawke sent a trickle of Mana to create an exit. “This is goodbye.”
“So it is. I only wish to say one more thing,” the Blood Hunter said. “Whatever is stirring in the Shadowy Foothills is greater than the aberration Gregory Ballantine let loose. Something Fey, but not of the Courts. You might want to look into it.”
Hawke almost thanked the Fae but stopped at the last second. “I take that information in the spirit it is given.”
“Farewell, then.”
The Fae took several steps into the lightly-forested plateau and disappeared from sight as if he’d never been there. Hawke turned on Advanced Mana Sight and caught the Hunter, moving faster than a galloping horse as it rushed through the woods. His special senses could beat invisibility spells and Fae Glamours. That might come in handy one of those days.
“Well, that’s one fewer headache. Time to spend some time checking my new stuff.”
* * *
Among other things, Hawke used his alone time to go over the new spells he had learned during the last few days:
Astral Projection
Time to Cast: 1 minute (30 seconds). Cooldown: 1 hour (48 minutes). Cost: 60(45) Mana. Duration: 10 minutes per level. Range: 5 miles per level. Effect: Project your consciousness away from your body, enabling you to travel through obstacles and fly at a speed equal to (Willpower x 5) miles per hour. You and the ‘silver cord,’ a Mana tether linked to your body are invisible to normal senses but can be detected through magical or supernatural means. Certain magical barriers and wards will prevent the Astral Form from traveling.
Your Astral Form is immune to Physical attacks and has 95% Resistance against Elemental and all Force effects other than those created through Chaos, Mind or Order magic. The Astral Form and Silver Cord each have a Health Pool equal to the sum of your Intelligence and Willpower multiplied by your level. If either is destroyed, you will die. Using magic while in Astral Form is possible, but only spells with a casting time of 0 can be used, and the Mana Cost is quadrupled before any other modifiers.
You must return to your body before the spell duration expires, or you will die and Reincarnate with the loss of 4 Identity points.
Send Thought
Time to Cast: 1 second (Instant). Cooldown: 5 seconds (2 seconds). Cost: 15(11) Mana. Duration: Up to five spoken words. Range: 3 miles per level. Effect: Send a five-word or shorter message directly to the mind of someone known to you.
Both spells were incredibly useful, but Astral Form really got his interest. Being able to fly at a hundred and ten miles per hour and scout up to eighty miles away at his current level sounded pretty amazing. He could think of dozens of uses for that spell, expensive as it was. As soon as he had some free time, he would try it out.
He sighed. Free time was going to be in precious little supply.
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” he asked the group of departing Eternals, three days later.
Moe Butts shrugged. “I’m not. But I think I need to do this, man. We all do.”
Hawke looked over the six former players. All were some kind of Goblinoid, except for the Lizard Man, and although the people of Orom hadn’t been particularly bigoted towards them, they all felt like outsiders, even more so than the rest of the Eternals. None of them spoke Vulgate, for one, which made life difficul, even though they could probably pick it up quickly enough. They would rather try their luck somewhere else. According to the maps, there were Goblin and Orc kingdoms on the southwestern part of the continent they were in, and a few mixed-species areas in between. Maybe they would fit in better over there. Or maybe that was only part of it; maybe th
ey felt like Hawke had taken all the opportunities available in the Valley, and that they would never escape being in his shadow.
“If you change your mind, you’ll always be welcome here,” he told them.
“Appreciate it, man.”
The group headed out the gate. A bunch of second and third level noobs, with no overpowered gear, special Classes or unique doodads. With no responsibilities other than to survive in the bizarre new world that was their new home.
Hawke found himself envying them.
He watched them until they disappeared out of sight, then went back to work. There was a Revenant and something worse lurking in the Shadowy Foothills, several major decisions to be made about the new Domain, and a trading caravan to Akila that had a good chance of attracting the attention of the Nerf Herders. Among many other things.
There was a long road ahead of him. He only hoped the end would be worth it.
Epilogue: Ends and Beginnings
Desmond finished his drink and looked around the dimly-lit bar before shrugging and ordering another round.
The place sucked. Prices were high, the food was terrible, and the serving wenches were ugly as sin. According to the locals he had bribed for directions, the next stop on the long road would take him to a major trading route, and things would improve. He sure hoped they would. For weeks, he had been on the miserable road, day after day. He’d bought food from farms he’d passed by, mildly annoyed by the fearful looks the local yokels gave him. Idiots. If he wanted to take everything they had, they couldn’t stop him.
Freaking NPCs. That’s what they were. It didn’t matter. He had plenty of gold, and he would make more. A couple of random encounters with packs of weird hyena-porcupine critters had netted him a few hundred XP and some silver. From what he’d been told, the next stretch of the road was a haven for bandits and wandering monsters. He would hopefully pick up a level or two before he reached the Dwarven kingdom where he was headed. Somebody with his skills and gear would do well there. At least, he hoped so.
They had all turned on him. Even Alba, who’d turned out to be the town slut. Hawke had figured she was good enough for Desmond. Bastard. Every dog had his day, though. Someday, Desmond would collect on everything he was owed. Everything.
He had tried to get justice. Back at the Sidhe Vault, he had asked for the power to defeat Hawke and his whore army. Not because Desmond had been planning to murder the Twilight Templar, no. He just wanted the option, just in case. If he needed to kill Hawke, for being a cheat and a thief, well, then he should be able to do it. But it all had gone wrong. Desmond didn’t remember the details, but he had ended up at the entrance of the Lair, again. Dead, again. With zero experience and an Identity of 11. He had gotten the hell out, headed west, and never looked back. Now he was alone, with only a vague idea of where he was going. Better than living in Hawke’s world, though.
The normal noises in the tavern died down when a newcomer entered. Desmond looked up from his drink and his eyes widened. It was an Elven woman, taller than Nadia, wearing a tight-fitting red leather outfit that left her surprisingly ample cleavage uncovered. Her long copper-colored hair was done in pigtails, which he hadn’t seen any Realms women do. Her deep purple eyes surveyed the tavern until they focused on him and she grinned. Desmond’s heart skipped a beat. She made Nadia and Alba look like yesterday’s fish, and she was walking right up to his table.
“Mind if I sit down with you, Desmond the Destroyer?” she said to him – in English!
“You are from Earth!”
“I’ve been there, yes,” she said, sitting down. The status box over her head said she was Leara LaFey, ninth level Rogue.
“Good to see another Eternal,” he told her. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“That would be wonderful. And while we enjoy each other’s company, I would like to discuss a business proposal with you.”
“Sounds great, Leara.”
Desmond felt like his luck was finally changing.
* * *
Paladin Maxom Petres hadn’t enjoyed being on watch when he was a simple town guardsman, and he didn’t enjoy it now that he was an Adventurer of the fifth rank, soon to enter the sixth level on the Path.
He understood the need, of course. Peace had returned to the Valley, but dangers still lurked in the forests and badlands. Someone with the ability to sense the presence of the Undead, Demonic or Fae was needed to watch over those who passed through the town’s gates. As the last few travelers lined up by the walls, Maxom glanced at the reddening sky. The sun was already behind the mountains; soon he could order the gate closed, concluding his duty for the night. Even a Paladin could enjoy a few drinks at the Soldier’s Well, the seedy tavern Orom’s guards treated as their second home. The place was no Copper Kettle, but the booze was fine and the wenches friendly.
Only four people remained by the gate. Two farmers from a nearby villa leading a donkey-pulled wagon full of produce, a traveling farrier with a tired-looking mule packed with the tools of his trade, and, last in line, a female traveler, most of her features concealed under a ragged cloak. She was an Adventurer of the eighth rank, with an unusual name that was probably that bizarre Eenglees Lord Hawke and his fellow Eternals spoke. After examining the others and letting them through, he approached the newcomer.
“What brings you to Orom, Adventurer?” he asked her as he gestured with his hands and mentally asked Shining Father for guidance.
“I was heading north from Alpina, until I heard news of a new Domain here. One led by an Eternal from another world.”
The spell showed no traces of Undeath or Infernal influences. The woman was no inhuman monster, although that did not mean she was harmless. Maxom decided to speak to Captain Kinto before going to the Soldier’s Well. News of a new Eternal should not wait till morning.
“We must peace-bond your weapons,” he told the stranger.
“Of course.”
Her short sword and dagger were plain and did not seem magical or of high quality, but Eternals could hide all manner of things in their wondrous Bonded Vaults. Still, he had one of the guards secure the weapons with two lengths of string.
“Welcome to Orom, stranger. It is getting late, but if you go to the Lord’s Keep, I am sure he will receive you personally. He is keenly interested in all Eternals who come to his Domain.”
“I see. Am I so obviously an Eternal?”
“It’s your name, Adventurer. I do not think I can read it out loud without butchering the sounds.”
She smiled, and although her expression seemed designed to put him at ease, Maxom felt a slight chill run down his back.
“Yeah. English spelling is like that. It’s pronounced ‘Girl-Has No-Name.’”
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The Adventure continues! Labyrinth to Tartarus, Book Three of the Eternal Journey, will be released in August. You can read the Prologue and first chapter below:
Prologue: Rise and Fall
Akaton Blood-Drinker walked the land, spreading terror wherever he trod as he set forth to confront the upstart.
A tribe of the Folk – what Humans and other pests called Woodlings – felt the god’s presence from half a mile away and as one they fell on their bellies, mewling piteously for mercy and promising to sacrifice every firstborn in their tribe if he would spare the rest. He sent a fragment of himself to them, in the form of a rusty-red fog that rolled over the Folk’s camp, filling their nostrils with the stench of fresh gore. A Shaman rose to his knees and chanted a song of propitiation; for his piety, he was spared, along with his immediate family. The others screamed in agony as their flesh melted, becoming part of the crimson mist. In a moment, it was finished, and Akaton felt the life force of the consumed tribespeople flow to him a
s the fog returned to its maker.
The upstart and his followers had lost a battle. Akaton walked past the mass grave where the victors had unceremoniously dumped hundreds of Folk corpses into ditches and covered them up. Inadvertently, the Humans had done something proper: the Folk were creatures of Earth and Life, meant to feed the ground with their mortal remains in order for new life to grow anew. The dead were meant to provide sustenance for the living. The Blood Drinker nodded approvingly as he passed the gravesite – and froze, when he found another one that no longer held any bodies.
The corpses in the second mass grave had torn their way out of the earth, awakened by the unholy power of Undeath. The sight gave Akaton pause. He had known that the Upstart was an abomination, a Fae whose inner Light had been twisted and perverted in ways none had thought possible. That was the only reason he had abased himself by assuming a physical form and entering the Common Realm, where only a fraction of his true power could be brought to bear. An Undead Fae was a crime against all the Children of Light. Akaton had come to personally set things to right.
But now, more Fae-Blooded had been roused from Death’s cold embrace. Their life energies had been plucked from the cycle of rebirth that was the province of the Lesser Fae. That was another impossibility, but there it was. The Upstart could spread his contagion and bring others into Undeath. The Folk should have been immune to such things, but whatever devilry had created the first abomination was powerful enough to create more.
Akaton growled. His Incarnation had the body and four legs of a bear, with a humanoid torso where a bear’s head would be, all covered in thick tawny fur. The centauroid shape stood eighteen feet tall and twenty-four feet long; its multi-ton weight left deep footprints on the land. The elfin face of the Blood God twisted in inhuman anger; his antlered head shook and his eyes glowed red as his senses searched for the Upstart – and found him. The Revenant had overcome an Infernal Dungeon and now ruled over its Core, tainting it and the Mana Nodes attached to it with the unwholesome energies of Undeath.
Lord of the Dead: A LitRPG Saga (The Eternal Journey Book 2) Page 41
