Konrad

The tunnel of thorns opened out into a dome-shaped chamber at least a hundred feet across and half as high again in the center. The curved walls were formed with thickly packed branches, the razor-sharp thorns flashing menacingly in the light of their torches.

In the center of the chamber was a squat, square building the size of a temple. The blocks used in the construction were black with threads of vivid purple running through them and were perfectly cut to fit together without any mortar. There were no windows and only one small door at the bottom.

"What is this place?" Rolo whispered, his deep voice echoing slightly.

"This stone block was on the carving, and I’ve seen that color in the stone before," Konrad replied.

Konrad had not shared what he had learned about Cloda with Alice and Rolo; how could he after Lyran had told him that anyone who knew was a target for the Father? But judging by their blank expressions, he knew he had to tell them something.

"The dwarfs have a room that holds their secrets, and it’s made out of that crystal," Konrad explained.

Alice wore a dark expression. Her attempts at accessing Lathorok had been rebuffed by Master Wright Stendhal.

Rolo nodded and unhooked his axe from the loop on his belt. "Secrets can be dangerous."

A tour of the square building confirmed that the small door was the only entrance. It was made of dark metal and was unadorned.

"Should we knock?" Alice asked, her voice reverberating with excitement.

Spirit gave a warning growl, and without thinking, Konrad summoned his shadow armor. He spun around, and the power of the Cold Bite rushed to his finger tips so quickly that he had to use every fiber of his willpower to stop it from thrashing out uncontrollably.

A man stood against the curved wall of woven thorns. His gray hair and beard looked as though they had been cut with a pair of garden sheers, and there was something plant-like about him, with his long, thin legs and portly stomach giving him the air of a pumpkin that had sprouted limbs. His hands were blackened up to the elbows, and he wore a green apron with various tools stuffed in the pouch.

"Which one of you did that then?" He asked and pointed a long finger to the blasted hole in the thorns.

Alice dropped her fighting stance. "Ah, that was me," she admitted.

"Going to take me months to grow all of that back, you know. Not easy when you mess up the roots."

Rolo stepped forward, summoning his friendliest smile. "I am Rolo, this is Konrad, Alice, and Spirit, what’s your name friend?"

"The names Walter."

"Friend Walter, we’re here on a quest; can you tell us what this place is?"

"No idea, I’m afraid. Me, I just tend the thorns, sacred duty and all that, been here about sixty years now, man and boy." Walter waddled over to the blast hole and began inspecting the torn edges, muttering to himself and shaking his head.

Alice’s brow furrowed, and she tightened her grip on the blasting wand. "That fresco was at least seven hundred years old; he must know something," she murmered.

Konrad’s eyes were on the blue stick in her hands, and he moved several cautious paces to the side. Alice had always had a fascination for magical artifacts, and if that’s what she used to blast her way in here, he didn’t want to stand in front of it.

"Excuse me, Walter, but if you don’t know what this is, perhaps there’s someone else who might know something more about this place?" Konrad asked.

Walter frowned and dropped the piece of ruined plant he had been inspecting. "The last person who went through that door is up there," he said, gesturing up to the volcano rim on the opposite side that they entered.

"Can you take us to them?" Rolo prompted.

"Breaking stuff, making work, now asking for favors?" Walter muttered.

The small man wandered off, and after a moment of hesitation, Konrad and the others followed him.

Walter approached the thick tangle of thorns without any indication he would slow down, and just as Konrad was about to cry out, the branches creaked out of the way, leaving a Walter-shaped hole that the little man waddled through. Spirit darted in, closely followed by Alice. Konrad had to duck slightly, and Rolo squeezed in, hissing as the thorns snagged into his huge frame.

After an uncomfortable twenty-minute journey, they emerged into the moonlight on the opposite side of the volcano. Directly in between the tall pillars they had spotted from the other side was a stone tomb, the inscriptions and carvings eroded by time.

"Who’s in there?" Alice asked, pulling out a piece of paper and charcoal and trying to take a rubbing of the inscription.

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"Don’t know who she was, but I know she was the last person to go in there. A lot of this was lost with my old Pa. He should have passed on the knowledge as a matter of course, but he was a drinker, you see, and one night he slipped and fell head over heels off of the ledge there." Walter pointed to the rim of the volcano above a hundred-foot drop.

"So you just stay here tending the thorns, but you have no idea why?" Konrad asked.

"Sacred duty ain’t it," Walter sniffed, puffing himself up to his full height, which just reached Konrad’s chin.

"Going into the building is my sacred duty; can you help me?" Konrad replied.

Walter scratched his chin. "Bit of a pickle, isn’t it? I feel like its a pretty classic sacred duty to stop people going in someplace. Stands to reason right? You've got your thorns, your traps, etcetera. Not exactly a welcome mat is it?"

"What about if your sacred duty was to help three adventurers and a dog when they arrive?" Konrad ventured.

Walter shrugged, and the whole effect looked like someone shifting a sack of vegetables. "I’d say it’s up to you, mister. Can’t say I’m not curious to know what’s in there myself. I’ll remind you about her though; like I said, she was the last one to go in there, and that much I do know, my Pa was very upset about it."

Alice and Rolo watched him cautiously. According to the fresco, Lyran’s ancient power could reside here. The problem was that someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep it sealed away.

Konrad caught a movement in the air around him. He didn’t know how he could sense the small gods when they appeared, but it felt like the air around him held its breath for a moment.

"I just need some time," Konrad said.

"Take your time, lad; I’m on my break about now anyway." Walter sat down on the tomb and pulled a sandwich and a glass bottle from his apron. He popped the cork and Konrad caught the tang of strong liquor. "Drink? I make this myself, you know, from the thorns."

Rolo gave the bottle a tentative sniff, and his eyes watered. "Gladly."

Alice sat down next to Spirit and began thumbing through a book, while Konrad walked until he reached the huge stone staircase that descended into the abandoned city that had been reclaimed by the jungle. From here, it was clear to see the layout of the ancient stone settlement—the larger buildings around a central plaza, and smaller dwellings scattered further out, now all long reclaimed by the jungle.

"Tell me what happened here," Konrad demanded.

Lyran appeared next to him, her arms folded. Corded, branch-like muscles flexed and creaked on her neck. "You think you can give me orders?"

"I just want to know the truth from you for once before I find out for myself."

"I have told you before, champion, you are a mortal; you do not demand anything from me; you follow my instructions; and now you are instructed to unlock my ancient power."

"This whole place was purposely built to lock your power away; tell me why."

"Or what?"

"I’ll dedicate my whole life to making sure no one ever unlocks it."

"I should cut you off right now."

"Do it; I’ve seen champions survive it."

Lyran’s eyes blazed with such intensity that Konrad had to resist the urge to summon his defenses. When she spoke, her words were clipped with steel.

"I will tell you a truth, and this will be all you will receive from me. If you do not serve me after this, then I swear I will cut you off and tell the others to do the same."

Konrad stood stock still.

"When we first met, the night that we chose you, we told you that we were the old gods. But the truth is, we were here so long ago that the gods that you know look like children to us."

"You’re not a god?"

"If you are going to interrupt me, this will take some time."

"Sorry."

"We are not like the Father or the Brother. They call themselves Puregods, formed entirely from the minds of living creatures. They represent ideals, values, wishes and dreams. They are constructs of living minds and have no other ties to the mortal plane, all their power comes only from belief, which they can distill into pure divine energy. A prayer to them is like a drop of life."

"What are you then?"

"I don’t know what we were, but myself, Casovan, Avram and the others were there at the beginning. We first knew ourselves when the first living atom was touched by the light of the stars and felt wonder."

"What's an atom?"

"I’m sorry, was I talking while you wanted to interrupt?"

"Apologies."

"The marvel of living things drew us like a flame, and as their wonder increased, we inhabited those physical things they worshiped. They worshiped the sun, Silena became the corporeal manifestation of the sun. They feared the cold and prayed for benevolence; Casovan became the physical manifestation of the winter winds. They feared the dark, and so Avram made himself the shadows. There were thousands of us at one point; now only us three."

"You were the Lyran tree. It had healing properties, and they worshiped it," Konrad stated.

"Until I became the Lyran I was nothing really, or I was all things. We didn’t know how it happened. One day we were everywhere, then we were specifically there. We ruled our little kingdoms for millennia. The problem came when people started really believing in non-physical things like love, honor, and victory; that’s when the Puregods appeared. We couldn’t compete; you can get a thousand people to believe in me, and it still won’t do me nearly as much good as one person praying to a Puregod."

"Why are you telling me this? I thought you were scared of them."

Lyran indicated the volcano. "There’s something in there that blocks divine power; it's uncomfortable for me but unbearable for the Puregods."

Konrad took a moment to absorb everything he had just been told, but as revealing as it was, it didn’t really change anything. Knowing that Lyran and the other gods were a slightly different kind of deity didn’t change what he had learned and seen.

"What about this city? What happened here?" Konrad asked, and he thought he saw a register of pain on her face.

"The world was a different place back then. Everything I had existed here and only here. Whatever I did cannot be judged by the values of your time here and now. If anything, I’m the victim here; my power has been locked up for hundreds of years, and my followers have all deserted me."

Konrad’s mind raced to try and fit all of this together and help him make a decision. He still didn't know if he trusted Lyran, so was the temptation of more power enough to take the risk that she could be lying?

What did he even want the power for?

The Puregods had killed Cloda and scattered the Clods, driven the Elves of Mir out of their home, and now the Prior was wreaking havoc on the Lost Coast. What he had seen was evil, and what was a champion if not someone who used their powers to fight evil?

There it was. He wanted to fight evil, and so he needed to be stronger.

"If I help you, what do I get out of it?" Konrad asked.

"Not quite as noble as you would like everyone to believe, are you? Our ancient power isn’t linked to followers, but right here, in the physical world itself. It’s the same as whatever Casovan gave you—raw power from when the world was young. It’s power beyond any Puregod champion."

Lyran stamped her foot, and it attached to the jungle floor like a root system, spreading out in every direction. Within moments, she was rooted to the spot, and when she breathed in, the jungle seemed to hold its breath.

"I’ll help you," Konrad said.