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Chapter 30: Cavern
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“Wardens, the distant giants, the sleepers, the protectors of an era past. The Wardens are no myth; they are the precursor to the Protectorate, the gods that fought gods, carving out a peace in the central realm, rebuffing the Seven and ending the War. None may form contracts with them unless chosen—a boon sought by the most eminent among the Protectorate’s Elite, granted to fewer than one in a millennium. No, child, they are not false legends, fancies of the past; they are real, but they slumber. And be thankful they do.” ~Excerpt from a lecture at the Myra Institute of Scholarly Arts, Sestina Elise, Guest Lecturer.
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Logan waded into the oppressive darkness, the light from Tarn’s torch casting dancing shadows on the floor. The walls and ceiling were beyond the fire’s light, and he quickly gained an impression of the cave’s grand magnitude. They walked in a staggered column, Tarn in front with the torch held high and sword drawn in his left hand at his side, Logan following close behind, a longsword of his own slung across his back. Logan observed Tarn’s sword, it was slightly curved and intricately carved: a beautiful piece of artwork that doubled as the Rider’s second weapon.
They walked in silence, the weight of unasked questions and the fallout of their recent battle heavy in the air. Finally the silence broke, and the anticipation was relieved.
“So mate, are you contracted, then?”
Logan frowned slightly. Contracted? To his knowledge… no? From the way Tarn asked the question, Logan felt like he was missing some vital information that everyone was expected to know. Their boots thumped against the stone floor of the cavern, the noise echoing in the darkness.
“Ah… no?”
Tarn was silent for a moment, and though he was in front of Logan and he couldn’t see the older man’s face, Logan thought his posture had grown contemplative.
“Then why’d you hire us? Not that I don’t appreciate the work, but if you’re a Rei user than you shouldn’t ‘ave much use for’a couple of drifters like me’n ol’ Synec.”
Rei. The words from his updated status page came to mind: Rei power, volume, and control. This must be some sort of equivalent to magic, then. He remembered the mysterious force, the press of power on the cusp of his understanding that he’d felt so many times before during his morning meditations. His mind harkened back to the moments before he’d passed unconscious; he had drawn an arrow at the llort holding Huck by the arm, become overwhelmed by emotion… passion, rage, longing—and something else. Something had brought those emotions together and realized their potential into something tangible.
His skin tingled with the remembered sensation. He did feel… different somehow. Everything felt just a bit sharper, crisper, but more than that there seemed to be a new layer of experience over the world, like something that had always been there he’d just lacked the proper sensory capabilities to observe it himself, like a black and white picture suddenly gaining color, or the return of flavor to food after a bout of illness. Rei. He pondered on what it could mean—what it could do.
According to the others, he’d blown a hole through the llort’s head. The explosion, if that’s what it was, hadn’t caused any debris—the arrow had simply caused a giant, perfectly spherical hole of nothingness to replace a large portion’s of the llort’s head. He had no idea how he’d done it, and he could only faintly remember how it’d felt. That he’d been responsible at all, that the second llort was even dead, still felt surreal. Yet, that’s what everyone had said, and here they were in the llorts’ home, unmolested.
They kept walking in a contemplative silence, their boots scraping the floor, the small patch of torchlight bouncing and flickering in the darkness.
“If I’m a Rei User, than this is my first time doing it… I think. You’ve seen already some of what I can do, but whatever that was, I have no idea how it happened. I felt something change when the first llort died… after that… I don’t know.”
He noticed that he had several notifications and could sense that Susie wanted to talk to him, but he ignored it for the time being. When they got out of the forest and back to Woolam he’d have a nice, long conversation with Mikey and Susie, but for now, he had to stay alert. They weren’t out of the woods yet, and he was wary to lower his guard. Out of the woods… I’ll have to run that one by Mikey, he thought with an internal smile.
“To be honest, I don’t know the first thing about Rei. After seeing what you did with those… chain things, I was wondering if you might have some insight.”
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“Jaber and Jakar, aye, they’re of rei, but they’re not my doing. I’m simply usin’ ‘em. They’re imbued with the stuff, crafted by ancients in the clans and given to us riders to be used for the benefit of our people. I can’t use rei myself, but Synec and I were talking, and I might be able to give you some pointers. Mighty strange though mate; if it’s not rei and it’s not a contract, then how’re you doing… whatever it is you’re doing with your weapons? I’ve ne’r seen anything like it, and I’m a right old n’ seasoned bastard.” Tarn chuckled.
Logan glanced at him; his oily skin reflecting the orange glow of the torch, the beads clacking softly in his hair, the flowing robes that hadn’t seemed to have dirtied or soiled after all the fighting. He was unlike anyone Logan had ever met, but he liked and trusted the man. That seemed to be a recurring theme of late, Logan noticed, but being in a new and unfamiliar world, he reckoned It’d be stranger not to meet bizarre people of all varieties. Hephesto the Yal had taken his expectations, flipped them on their head, and punted them into the cosmos—so an off-brand Australian with beads in his hair and flying chain blades that he could command with a word shouldn’t feel too far afield of normal.
“Have you heard of The Company?”
“Mate, there’r lot’s of companies, military, business and otherwise, yer gonna need to be a bit more specific.”
“Like, the one with the Celestials?”
“Celestials? You mean the gods? ‘Course I know about the gods, but they ain’t in no ‘Company’ that I know of, most’ve ‘em’d still rather be fightin’ each other—that’s how I understand it anyways.”
Gods? Why had Mikey or Susie never mentioned this before? He sounds pretty confident, too. Logan couldn’t help but feel like they were talking past each other somehow, but he figured he’d just go with it.
“Uh, yeah. Well It’s to do with that, I guess.”
“I thought you said you weren’t contracted. Mate, I don’t care if you are or aren’t, I couldn’t give a rat’s shit who you’re affiliated with; the Awali don’t participate with all the politickin’, and I’ve already gotten’ to know ya. You’re a fine lad—so you are contracted to some minor god then? Figured as much I ‘spose. Got to thinkin’ you were a rei user already, but you’re nothin like the few I’ve known. ‘Spose you might be one day though, if what you did to the llort’s any indication.”
Somehow, what he’d said seemed to satisfy Tarn’s curiosity, and the man picked up his pace a bit, his steps invigorated with a new spring. Logan hurried to catch up, not wanting to be left behind in the darkness. He really didn’t want to be left behind in the darkness, though he remembered that he did have a torch and lantern or two tucked away in some corner of his inventory.
“Yeah, It’s something like that. Rei feels new though, different. You know rei users, you said?”
The edge of the torchlight began to creep up a wall, the first they’d seen since departing the camp, and they followed its lightly curving path to the right. Logan checked his map; it was opened in a new location tab labeled “Llort’s Cavern,” and was a mostly blacked out area with only their temporary camp and the straight line that he and Tarn had travelled revealed through the fog of war. It gave him no indication of where to go or how large the cavern was, so following the curve of the wall seemed their best and only option. They padded along, the wall at their side a comfort. At least it no longer felt like they were just lost in an endless see of nothingness, though the cave’s roof above was still far out of sight.
“Aye, I did. They’re regarded as a sort of nobility everywhere—if they’re known, that is—and even more so among the Awali. Some are great war-chiefs, others wisemen elders, and others still mythical leaders of our lore and heritage; some are even seen as far beyond moral, nearly rivaling the gods in power. We don’t have any like that, though.” Tarn turned towards Logan, briefly fingering a bead tied into his hair. “These are sand pearls: compressed sand from the great battlegrounds where our tribespeople have won famous victories. They’re imbued with rei, and bring me strength in battle, a gift from my clan chief—a rei user.” Tarn’s eyes shone reverently in the torchlight, and he continued walking.
Logan was quiet, thinking of something to say in response when he saw something. The wall turned left around a corner, then continued, doubling back, a wall between where they walked and where they just were. Ahead, protruding out of the stone floor and shadows, a graveyard of bones spread before them.
“Tarn,” he said, touching the man’s arm to halt him. They stopped, Tarn readying his sword and Logan drawing his own from where it hung on his back. Slowly, they approached.
Bones of various sizes lay haphazardly on the stone, none seeming to go with the rest. Logan was unsure, but thought that many animals, many species must have been slain, then brought here to be consumed. There were small, straight bones that looked almost human; huge, long femurs several times too thick, and broken skulls in varying stages of decay lay strewn about in piles, scattered on the floor, everywhere they looked. Logan switched his longsword for a shorter one that he could hold in one hand, removed a torch from his inventory, and lit it on Tarn’s.
“Feeding grounds, ‘em bastards ‘ave no manners, leavin’ a mess like this. ‘e place stinks!”
Tarn said, scrunching his nose. If his hands weren’t full, Logan thought he’d have held it tightly shut. He was right, it did smell; the scent of dried blood and rotting flesh filled Logan’s nostrils, and he almost gagged. He tried holding his breath, but had to breathe eventually and gave it up soon after. There was just no helping it.
Torch in hand, Logan began going left, following the wall, and walking around the perimeter of the bones. Tarn went right, and splitting up they found that they were looking at an isolated pile of waste and refuse that spread nearly fifty feet in diameter, tucked into a cubby in the cave. They met on Tarn’s side, Logan hurrying to double back; he was eager to escape the scent. Moving away from the waste heap and back out into the cavern’s expansive abyss, Logan was at least glad that they’d found some signs of life.
After only a few more minutes of conversation and walking, a sound stopped them both in their tracks. It was a loud, deep, inhuman wailing. Although it sounded nothing like a person, it was somehow familiar to them both. Without saying anything, they glanced at each other then began to stalk forwards towards the sound. It continued, echoing through the cave, a rising and falling wail that sounded eerily akin to sobbing. The sound was broken only by the occasional pause, as if whatever was responsible for the crying refrain had to breathe before continuing.
“You keep your torch up, I’ll flank to the side with a spear. Hopefully it’ll be drawn to the light, and I can sneak behind unseen.”
Tarn nodded his agreement, and Logan broke off to continue ahead in a diagonal path to the left. He moved quickly in a crouching run, hands grasped around the shaft of his halberd, heart racing. Was it another llort? A dying animal? Something else? Whatever it was, they’d have to deal with it. They couldn’t justify leaving without finding the llort’s treasure—couldn’t justify the loss of Huck’s arm without something to show for their efforts. He wouldn’t let this all have been for nothing. Taking deep, calming breaths, Logan slowed down. He’d outstripped Tarn’s slower approach, and watched the progress of his torchlight as he made his way straight forwards, directly towards the source of the wailing.
Soon, the sound changed, rising in pitch. It intensified, becoming louder and more frantic; they were getting closer. A figure loomed in the firelight, casting a large shadow on the wall behind it—Logan noticed they’d reached the end of the cave, a wide bowl of curving walls— and he gaped, lowering his spear tip to the ground.
A baby llort lie in a tall wooden crib, crying, curled on its side.