[Bee Blueglade][Session 3 - Level 1][Part 2]

Bee sat across from the Iron Waystone not hearing its hum anymore. His eyes were fixed on his boot where his orcish dagger was tucked away. Alerias must have hidden it for him, but why would he think to do that?

Brion paced around the pillar, and the two remained in what seemed like a twilight realm of snow and death. Bee looked up as Brion walked by.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for you,” Bee claimed.

“Me?” Brion stopped and turned towards the manacled villager. “You teleported us, don’t know how to get us back, and no we’re stuck beyond The Withering Gate!”

“What, are you telling me that all of your fancy titles aren’t going to save you?” Bee said sarcastically.

“We are the farthest anyone has ever been from civilization since the dark times!” Brion grabbed the fur on the back of his head and ran his hands up the length of his cat-like ears. “You doomed us.”

“No, I only doomed you. Still unsure if I can fully die.” Bee mulled the words over as he had in truth not given it much thought.

“You said you think you can come back from death once.” Brion reached for the hilt of his sword.

“Well I have other methods of survival.” Bee narrowed his eyes.

“If you can’t teleport us home, it must have been a fluke, you’re no champion.” Brion snarled.

The two were cast in a bright light, this time the glow was like daylight, and was projected like a beam across the accursed lands. Bee looked over his shoulder at where the spotlight came from, squinting at the source, he began to see the faint outline of a tower.

“A lighthouse?” Brion questioned. “Way out here?”

“Let’s see if they have any answers.” Bee stood up as he began to walk towards the tower.

“This better not be an ambush.” Brion followed.

The two passed by weapons stuck in the icy earth, burial mounds, and skeletons of behemoth monsters. There were trenches, bunkers, and dilapidated wooden battlements through the area. Darkness danced around them as if the shadows of long dead soldiers were still fighting.

The two grew closer and closer to the base of a mountain range. The lighthouse stood atop the first peak and had stone steps carved into the mountainside leading up to it.

Bee looked back at Brion, who had his sword drawn, and pointed at Bee. The catfolk knight nodded towards the stairs and Bee quickly got the hint. He began the climb.

The spotlight followed him as he clambered over each step. The further he went up the mountain, the less he felt his life force being drained, and the more energy he felt in each step. The feeling of invigoration was slowly balanced by the muscle fatigue felt from climbing.

Eventually he reached the top, Brion was close behind him, and the two walked over a bridge that spanned a small chasm. It led straight to the doors of the tower, which were large spruce doors with iron reinforcements.

Bee put his shoulder into one of the doors and it didn’t budge. Brion and Bee both heaved against the door at the same time and it did not move. They stepped back and stared at the door. They saw a symbol of a sun that was whole only while the door was closed.

Brion threw his hands up in exasperated defeat and walked away from the door.

Bee stared at the sun, remembering that his hair would glow when he regenerated, and tried to focus on that same feeling. He pictured a bright, glowing sun. And then the symbol lit up in a brilliant golden glow.

The doors slowly swung inward.

“The door had a puzzle?” Brion asked. “Who puts puzzles on doors?”

“Someone who doesn’t want idiots like you waltzing in.” Bee muttered.

The two started to walk inside as they noticed that oil lanterns were already lit around the room. The entryway was an expansive room, there was only one door on the other side of the room, but lining the room near the ceiling were dozens of arrow slits.

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Bee scanned the room, he didn’t feel safe, as he imagined a dozen archers hiding in the shadows. As his mind created false enemies in the shadows something moved past one of the arrow slits.

“We’re being watched.” Bee whispered.

“I can sense the presence of evil.” Brion replied in a hushed tone.

“Let’s save our squabbles for later.” Bee suggested.

“Agreed.” Brion grabbed Bee’s arms from behind his back.

With a click the manacles came off. Bee brought his hands forward and rubbed his wrists. Brion stepped forward in front of Bee, heading towards the doorway, with sword and shield in hand.

The two easily opened the next door, revealing a tight hallway, they would be able to walk shoulder to shoulder and still make it through together, but Bee opted on staying further behind Brion.

The catfolk glanced over his shoulder at Bee. He was still suspicious, but Bee knew that the knight was putting some amount of trust in him. Maybe Bee could do the same, but what point was there if Bee might be the only one to live through this.

They walked past dozens of murals of heroic figures, there were names and dates below the murals, and each one was in pristine condition. Bee looked at one, a stunning blonde man, holding a tome close to his chest, with the name Sorbien Spellsear. The text read that he became a Patron of Light over a thousand years ago.

“Who are these people?” Bee asked.

“Those who fought alongside the Champions of Light. Their most trusted companions.” Brion replied.

The two reached the end of the hall and pushed open another door. This time they entered a grandhall. There were three chandeliers hanging from the ceiling in a row down the center of the room. A table with hundreds of seats stretched forward before them. There were a dozen doors through the room and near the back were two spiral staircases that went off to the left and right.

Brion and Bee walked down either side of the table, splitting up, and slowly making their way through the room. There was a candle lit at the far end of the table and three plates with something on them.

The smell hit Bee first; finely cooked venison, seasoned vegetables, and a rich wine. That was what he found on the plate as he came to the end of the table. Bee felt his stomach churn and there was no stopping him as he pulled the chair out from the table.

“What are you doing?” Brion hissed as Bee sat himself.

“What does it look like?” Bee picked up a fork and knife as he eyed the venison.

“It could be poisoned!” Brion stormed over to him.

“I can’t die.” Bee cut off a piece of venison. “So I am helping myself.”

“You are unbearable.” Brion huffed as he looked towards the stairs. “Bee?”

Brion slowly backed up and bumped into the table. Bee shoved a piece of the venison into his mouth before looking over his shoulder.

Up the right flight of stairs was a strange railing with a mechanical arm attached to it. At the top of the stairs was a man in a chair with wheels. He was waiting patiently as the arm moved up the railing towards him.

The man had liver spots, wrinkles, deep green and blue bruises across his skin. His head had a few stray gray hairs but was mostly bald. He had dark black and blue robes draped across him. And his eyes were glazed over, a milky white, with no color to the pupils left.

The mechanical arm of the railing grabbed the wheelchair and slowly lowered it down the spiral staircase. As it moved Bee noticed the strange metal tanks on the back of the wheelchair, the tubes connected to the man’s nose, and the IV in his arm.

The mechanical arm on the railing slowly brought him down to ground level. Where he started to wheel himself over to the table. He stopped a few feet from the frozen Brion.

“Excuse me, but I sit there. The head of the table does not have a chair there specifically to accommodate me.” The man said with a raspy voice as one of his hands moved up and held a hole in his throat.

“You’re The Smith.” Brion muttered.

“Yes, and I’m also hungry.” The man replied.

“Wait, as in the guy who made the Waystones?” Bee asked as he swallowed the venison.

“The one and the same.” The man rolled forward as Brion moved out of the way.

“But that would make you…”

“A thousand and forty-three years old.” The Smith replied.

Brion sat down in the other seat, dumb founded, as he stared at the old man. Bee looked from Brion to the man still trying to figure out the significance. He was unsure if any human could live that long without being a lich. Which would make The Smith someone to be wary of.

“How many of you survived this long?” Brion asked.

“Three; The Shifter, The Pugilist, and myself.” The Smith answered.

“So Smith, how did you make this food?” Bee asked.

“I didn’t, Shifter did, they always make food for the three of us.” He looked in Bee’s direction. “And my name is Oak.”

Bee slowly lowered the knife and fork. He had already taken several bites of food. He wondered whose food he ate; The Shifter’s or the Pugilist’s.

“So which one of you used the Waystone?” Oak asked.

“He did.” Brion pointed to Bee.

“Why point, he can’t see.” Bee narrowed his eyes at Brion.

“Shut up, fool.” Oak spat. “If you have been chosen to be a Champion of Light, then that means the Darkness has returned.”

“What does that mean for me?” Bee leaned back in his seat.

“That means we have around five years to find the other champions, train you as a group, and defeat the darkness before it consumes the entire world.” Oak was blunt with them.

Bee lowered his head, running his hands through his hair, as he thought over what the old man just told him. He would need to fight for the sake of the entire world. To save everyone was one thing. But with no world would he regenerate?

He didn’t want to find out.