Konrad

In the middle of the night, Konrad left their temporary camp under the Lyran tree as silently as possible. He walked to the rim of the volcano alone, surprised for once that he had been able to move stealthily enough that even Spirit didn’t wake up. He wouldn’t have minded her coming with him, but it was better to leave Alice and Rolo out of this. If Alice had come, he would have had to admit that he stole from her, and Rolo’s legendary superstition would not be able to deal with what was about to happen.

Low-hanging clouds blocked out the moonlight, and the tomb of the last person to enter the stone cube sat in dark vigil over the volcano’s basin. Despite the explosion of life down below, this place still felt as desolate as it had the day before.

The tear of remembrance was about the size of Konrad’s fist and made of clear glass; the surface was smooth and cool to the touch. Without any other knowledge, Konrad would have said that it was an interesting ornament and nothing more, but the label Alice had carefully written eluded to its power.

Konrad placed the tear on the tomb and stepped back.

"If you think you are going to use this thing without me being able to watch, then you have another thing coming." Alice stood behind him, her lips pursed, and one of her eyebrows was raised questioningly. Spirit sat at her side, and behind them, Rolo stretched and yawned widely.

"I should have told you; I just didn’t want you to stop me."

"Are you kidding? I wish I had thought of it earlier, before we smashed the place apart."

"Are you going to do some magic, Konrad?" Rolo asked.

"I think so, but it might not be something you’ll like," Konrad began.

"Since meeting you, I have fought demons, witches, and arcanists, plus I have this now." Rolo pulled open his tunic to reveal the tightly linked chain mail that deflected magical attacks.

Alice had a hungry look on her face, and she rummaged in her pack, producing paper and a pen and pushing her hair behind her ears. "The incantation is on the label; just be firm in your intention and read it aloud."

"What does it do?" Rolo asked, peering closely into the small piece of glass.

"It summons the dead," Alice said.

Rolo reared back, his hands raised. "Nononono, not the dead, never the dead."

Konrad ignored him, and with his eyes fixed on the tear of remembrance, he spoke the incantation into the night.

A ghostly figure of a middle aged woman appeared in front of them, her form picked out in etherial, soft white smoke.

"What is this?" She said, examining her own hand.

Konrad had been so preoccupied with finding out the truth, that he hadn’t thought of what he would say.

"You’re dead," Alice explained.

Behind them, Rolo made a groaning sound.

The ghost nodded. "I remember."

"This is Konrad, he’s a champion of the gods; I’m Alice; and this is Spirit and Rolo. We were hoping to ask you some questions."

The ghost folded her arms and surveyed them each in turn, her gaze lingering on Konrad. Her weathered face was deeply lined with a scar that puckered her left cheek. Her hard eyes promised that she was more than a match for any hardship life had thrown at her.

"My name is Urla, I was a champion of the gods."

Konrad had stopped breathing, afraid that any disturbance might scatter this ghost before he could get the information he needed. This was the champion that Lyran sent here who had died; the last person to enter the cube.

"Champion Urla, if you don’t mind, will you share your story? How did you come to be here?"

"When I was a girl, I was chosen as a champion by a small god called Lyran. There was very little fanfare for me; she was unknown to the rest of the continent, and I was told that my service would be menial. Some even told me I should simply ignore the call," the ghost began, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Lyran was so weak she could barely remember who I was most of the time and appeared to me rarely, perhaps once a year, each time begging me to find the last Lyran tree. I was young and brash and yearned for adventure. I traveled the continent, and my search eventually brought me here, where I met the people who were tasked with maintaining this place and keeping it sealed to outsiders. After I learned what Lyran did, I could no longer serve her. I entered the barrier and concealed my own defenses inside, ready to dedicate the rest of my life to guarding this place."

"What did you learn about Lyran? What happened to this place, the city and the people?" Konrad asked.

"Two tall trees grew here, and the waters in the pools around them provided healing. One tree was the deep green of the beating heart of the continent, and the other was red, the beating heart of the life that roamed upon it. The trees were worshiped, and spirits that some call the old gods inhabited them. Lyran was one of them; the name of the other is lost to time.

"For millennia, these entities co-existed, and the forest was theirs, half red and half green. Both used their divine power to provide healing far beyond the trees' natural abilities, and people built a great city and worshiped them. As time went on, the people favored the red side of the caldera, as the healing from the red tree was more adapted to living creatures, and it was upon this side that they built their city. Lyran began to receive less attention than the other tree and became so jealous that she withheld her healing power. Her pool ran dry, her followers dwindled, and the red forest overtook the green until Lyran and her tree stood alone, an island in the middle of a red sea. No matter what spirit inhabited it, the Lyran tree is a plant, and surrounded by the red blooms of another species, it acted as plants do."

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"It tried to protect itself from an invasive species," Alice breathed.

The ghost nodded, and her expression turned grim. "The tree saw its sister as a parasite, and it tried to heal it. The old magic that gave the tree the ability to heal was boosted by the Lyran’s divinity, and thus its healing power was used to eradicate the threat."

"Casovan said that Lyran did something bad, he called it moral gymnastics. She knew that would happen, she planned it," Konrad whispered.

"Only Lyran can know that, but it is what the people believed, and it is what I believe."

"What happened then?" Alice asked.

"The red forest and the red tree died, and the hatred the people felt for Lyran diminished her power. They tried to destroy Lyran’s tree, but it continued to heal itself, so instead they enlisted the aid of more powerful groups that still walked the mortal realm at the time. The Faelen cut down every Lyran tree they could find, and they locked the last one away. When I learned this, I chose not to unlock the power. Instead, I trapped a stonewrym inside, and Lyran cut me off as I made my escape and i was injured. Without my power, I died outside the door."

"Is she evil?" Konrad asked, his throat dry.

"She would not claim to be evil, because evil is not a concept she understands. She only understands her own survival, and she will act accordingly to secure it."

The apparition faded, and Alice just gazed at Konrad, her mouth slightly open, seemingly unable to find the right words. She had never looked at him in any particular way at him until he was chosen, but now he knew that there was nothing noble about being a champion. He was little more than a mercenary, taking his prizes and asking no questions.

"What does this mean, Konrad? Should we have left it closed?" Rolo asked.

"I need some time alone," Konrad said, and he made for the steps down into the jungle.

Konrad trekked until he had left the volcano and the abandoned city far behind. The whole region was a reminder of the cruel indifference of divine spirits and the champions that served them, and he wanted to get as far away as possible.

"Spirit, can you find some water?" Konrad called out into the shadows.

Spirit led him to a steep hill, and he dove his head straight into the small pool that bubbled out of the rocks, drinking the frigid water until his teeth were rattling.

"Are we still on the continent? Looks like the continent," said a slightly nasal voice above him.

Konrad groaned and looked up to see Avram sitting on a large rock. The small god's face was still wreathed in darkness, but he now held a knobbly staff and wore the robes of the elven arcanists of Mir.

"I hope I’ve caught you at a good time; Lyran’s already bragging about getting back her ancient power. She really does like to brag, though she says she doesn’t," Avram began.

"Do you know what Lyran did here, with the two trees and the abandoned city?" Konrad interrupted.

"I’m afraid I’m not really up to speed with everything at the moment. I mean, I feel better—certainly bigger—but not quite at full fighting strength, and the past is foggy. Whatever Lyran did was an awfully long time ago, though, so why worry about it? What’s important is that you completed a quest! That’s why I’m here; you seem to have a real knack for this ancient power stuff, so I thought it was about time you went and sorted mine out."

Konrad’s encounters with the old gods had caused many emotions, mostly surprise and exasperation, but now he felt a hot, burning anger rising in his throat. "No."

Avram was silent for a moment. "What do you mean "no"? I’ve rewarded you well, haven’t I? The sword, the armour, the shadow hound. Let me tell you about the shadow realm. It's a mirror world that you can slip into whenever you like. What do you think? All you have to do is unlock my power."

"I said no; I’m not doing any more quests."

"Come now, champion, what’s gotten into you? I’ve always treated you well, and we helped those little elves, didn’t we?"

Konrad turned his back on Avram and took another drink of water, then began arranging his pack. "I’ve said all I’m going to say. Goodbye Avram."

Konrad made it halfway down the hill before he heard raised voices up ahead.

The first voice was Avram. "I told him about the quest, and he said he wasn't interested! I asked what about the elves, and he said, "No more quests." Can you believe that? You have to speak to him."

The reply came in the icy tones of Casovan, but unlike the regular drawl Konrad was used to, he sounded irritated. "You called me here for this? Do you know what I’m dealing with right now? Every time I turn my back, someone’s lit another temple on fire; there’s red paint everywhere, and you wouldn’t believe the spelling. Half of them have shaved their hair right off now, and that’s not the look I was going for at all. It’s all gotten completely out of hand. It’s that girl's fault. Now it seems I can’t even ask my own champion for help because you and Lyran have broken another one."

"Casovan, have you not listened to a word I've said?" Avram asked.

Konrad lost control of his temper and burst out of the foliage to confront the small gods, but the angry words died in his throat. Casovan still had the hawkish nose and the high brow, but he was now immensely fat and wore a coarse brown robe, tied at the waist with a length of rope. His hair, previously long and limp, was now shaved on top.

Konrad felt the mad laughter of disbelief stirring below his navel. "Casovan, you’re the Prior?"

The old god of the coldest mountain drew himself up, his extra chins wobbling erratically and a look of indignation on his face. "What is so amusing about that?" He demanded.

The laughter was now bubbling up inside Konrad, and it escaped with a howl that drew tears to his eyes.

"I’m glad you came back, Konrad; Casovan was just saying that you’ve done very well for us," Avram began.

"Stop, just stop." Konrad held his hand up for silence, his laughter fading as he gulped for air. "Stop, that’s it; I’m done. Cut me off; do whatever you have to do. If you don't, I’ll find a way to block you out."

"I’m not going to stay here and listen to this impertinence," Casovan spat, and he disappeared.

"Konrad, I see you’re angry, but think about my ancient power. I’ll come back when you have calmed down," Avram said, as he too disappeared.

Spirit stepped out of the shadows with a small, wizened figure riding on her back. The last time Konrad had seen the waif was on the deck of Elena, when he had shown him a vision of Athir in the desert.

Athir had been right about the gods all along. At the very start of his adventures, she tried to warn him about the harm that they caused to Parthenea. If he had any hope of fighting back against them, he would need her.

"Can you take me to Athir?" Konrad asked the waif.

Without giving any indication that he had heard him, the waif hopped off of Spirit’s back and drew a circle in the air with his finger. A window opened up, and red light flooded out into the jungle. Inside was a dry, red land under a red sky that churned as clouds raced across it.

"What is this place?" Konrad asked.

The waif stepped through the window and beckoned to Konrad to follow, but a great crashing of foliage announced the arrival of Alice and Rolo who were both out of breath and staring wide-eyed at the hole in the air that led to a menacing red land. From the other side, the waif gave them both a friendly wave.

"Konrad, what’s going on?" Alice said.

"He’s the fourth small god, and the only one who can take me to Athir. I have something I need to do, and I need her help. You don’t have to follow me; I don’t know where this leads."

Alice and Rolo cautiously approached the window, and Spirit tentatively sniffed at the strange air that was blowing out.

"I’m coming," Alice and Rolo said at the same time.

"This is a grand adventure, Konrad, and I wouldn’t miss it," Rolo added.

"It could be dangerous," Konrad suggested.

"Then it's good we have you to protect us, isn’t it?" Alice said.

The four companions faced the red land, and Spirit hopped through first. Konrad followed, and his boots crunched on dry red dirt. A buzzing sound just on the edge of his hearing seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"Can you hear that?" Konrad asked.

But there was no reply. The window had disappeared, and he and Spirit were alone with the waif. A volcano dominated the skyline, its rocky red slopes devoid of any living plant—a cruel echo of the world he knew.