Many people gave me spare copper quarter bits and half bits for my performance yesterday. One particularly affluent patron told me my drinks were on his tab. I sipped the beer as people filed in once again. Soon the pub was full, patrons sipped their bitter wheat beers and ate merrily. Loud conversation echoed through the great room. I caught Gertrude eyeing me hungrily and I did my best to ignore it.
I started strumming once more and looked over at everyone there. The conversation grew hushed and I began.
Our hero, now ravaged by the restless dead of the ruined city, leaned heavily against the door frame and prepared his mind for the journey. The now familiar call to go forward beckoned him onwards. The price of Sondet’s assistance having heavily drained his purse. He feared that should he need her much more than his purse would grow empty. This journey at least would end his previous way of life. Maybe now he was bound to adventure for a living.
His torch flickered in the darkness of the night yet he could not will himself to stop and rest. The haunted ruins were too dangerous even without the specters of the lost. His feet fell heavily as he stumbled recovering from the mental and spiritual attacks of the dead.
His longing for a comfortable and soft bed to rest upon was greater than his pain. Traveling and leaving such a comfortable life to answer Sondet was what he needed to do. No one would risk angering a god. Still he would not whine or regret his decision. This was the most important he had ever felt.
Guided more by the pull than by his own torchlight he cut straight through decrepit buildings, through alleys, and over wreckage. Not risking getting lost in this ancient place. His torch warmed his skin as he clutched it close. He let his bravery fight off the flinching over every sound as he warred with his fear that more ghosts lurked untreated by Terus. Soon though he found himself at a gate. Silhouetted by the moon stood a towering palace of gleaming white stones. Dozens of smaller homes lined abandoned overgrown gardens. No specters lingered here, their souls already taken, or their deaths lacked the tragedy of those that would deny the afterlife. There was a great paved stone path broken by roots spreading far in between them. Several times it split if to lead further into the undergrowth quickly losing itself to nature. The adventurer walked with leaden feet as he kept his eyes upon the palace. Parapets long since crumbled in on themselves lined the outermost walls. A great rusted and shattered portcullis lay crumpled over a broken set of gate doors. Now he was in another set of lesser walls that had separated the royals from their servants and the city beyond.
The white stone was nearly drowned out by patches of kudzu and ivy. Great untamed flowers bloomed everywhere in the moonlight. Several nocturnal creatures flitted through the shadows of the palace running from the torchlight. Nerves frayed beyond imagining the hero drew his sword and said a silent prayer to Sondet to insure safety in his quest. Soon his torch grew dim and he rummaged freeing the next and lighting it anew. Extinguishing it fully he tucked it with the other waiting torches. Never wise to waste good firewood.
Hallways lead in every direction far into the labyrinth once known by hundreds of servants and nobles. A great staircase wide enough for a squad of battle hardened men could stand shoulder to shoulder. Dozens of skeletons clad in piles of rusted gear, the leather of it all long since chewed away by vermin and worn by age. They were piled high to the top of the stairway. The call whispered against his soul to go higher into the palace. The hero walked through and around the dead doing his best to not disturb their rest. Beneath them lay an ancient moth eaten rug with long faded designs too obscure to tell what they were.
He was guided left, more dead lay strewn in the halls, every torch sconce ripped free, no sense of wealth remained. Rooms were stripped, bed frames had every bit of metal pulled from them, only the bodies remained undisturbed where they fell. Even barbarians might be wise enough to leave the dead be. Soon the bodies of soldiers gave way to men, their soft garb eaten away. The skin decayed clinging to their bones like cloth stretched thin across a lumpy mannequin. With a horrified relief he found no bodies of women or children. Their fates unknown and hopefully better than death.
Hopelessly he was lost going through the hallways. Turns, going across rooms to other doorways. Even the doors were stripped of the iron of their hinges. Every piece of furniture was broken. Beds turned into piles of mold and dust. To think such a grand place could be forgotten and unclaimed after being stripped to its bones was a travesty to history. He came upon a grand set of stair leading to closed intact doors. They were pristine and shined as if new. The hero felt a tingling across his skin as he approached and knew what must be at work. Magic. Rubies and emeralds were patterned like a crest of a robin clutching a vine while embossed on a shield. Our adventurer seared the image into his mind as he sat against the wall near the door. Exhaustion overwhelming him he pulled just enough of his roll out and laid his head upon it. Swearing he would work on the door in the morning. He put out his torch and fell asleep in the pure darkness.
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That night he was visited by Sondet. He stood upon a golden floor and faced her. She was made of diamonds and gems of all shapes and colors blending seamlessly into the image of an older woman with white silken hair. The smile she was was literally dazzling and the hero fell to his knees.
His voice rang true as he spoke, “Oh great Sondet you honor me greatly. To be summoned humbles me greatly.”
Her voice is said to sound like the clinking of coins and gems. Filled with the overwhelming feeling of finishing a hard season of work and to be safe from the harmful life of homelessness and hunger. Her words echoed in the golden room, “You nearly died when you abandoned my call. You were insolent to think I would consider other tasks important.” Her words were like the cutting cold and gnawing hunger of starvation, “However, my brother Terus asked me to show mercy. Those souls had long been lost to him and since you called him he was able to harvest them for the afterlife.”
“I thank you for your mercy and consideration. I’m sorry I could not ignore the plight of the dead,” answered the hero with humility.
Sondet leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “You no longer have the wealth it would take me to aid you with the door beyond a hint. You know enough magic to read the information you need. Seek what the bird does, that is all I can tell you. Sleep now, what you seek for me is close.”
He awoke to the light shining through windows he hadn’t noticed. His body was sore and tired from resting upon the hard floor. Nothing around him seemed disturbed. Drinking water he scanned the door. The goddess told him to use magic. He knew the bare minimum of it from a childhood raised by merchants.
Sitting cross legged before the door he closed his eyes and began to focus like he was taught so long ago. Opening his eyes he stared upon the door and the gems blazed bright with mana. It almost seemed as if the bird was flying while clutching a vine. A sense of want for safety and shelter filled the hero. What did the bird desire? What would it use a vine for?
A child raised his hands and called out, “Oh I know mister! Bugs, and a lady friend!” Several other children joined in his laughter as I shook my head.
“It’s rude to interrupt. I might ask your parents not to bring you tomorrow,” I chided. This time the adults laughed with me as the child sat down crossing his arms grumpily.
So the hero pondered as he sat in front of the door. Staying focused and serene. Then around midday as he ate dried meat chewing heavily it came to him. A nest, the bird desired a nest.
He grabbed his spent torch and a knife and began cutting long strips of thin wood. Often his fingers would get stuck with splinters but he worked tirelessly into the evening. Then as the room turned red he had a woven makeshift nest of wood. He held it before him and walked towards the door.
To his amazement the gems in the door moved and gazed at him approaching. Its head twisted back and forth curiously as he offered the nest to the robin. Magic snaked from the door and wrapped around the offering. It pulled the nest into the door and before the hero’s eyes it turned into wound copper and the vine was woven into it. One of the leaves of the vine sprouted into a door knob.
Hesitating the adventurer opened the door slowly. Praying that he not be pulled inside with magic. The door lead to a massive bedroom. A four poster bed big enough for seven men lay against the far wall. Pristine stained glass windows stretched to the ceiling. Dressers overflowing with clothes that were rummaged through lined the walls. In the center of the room lay a table. Upon it was the finest porcelain the man had ever seen. Sadly the chair that sat beside the table had someone on it.
The woman was clad in a beautiful dress of untouched silks. It was layered beautifully and trailed down to the floor and spilled around her feet like a puddle. Upon her head sat a crown that looked like a nest of woven gold. Her chest lay partially open and a dagger was plunged into her heart. No one stripped the room of wealth, no one could reach her. She had taken her own life to avoid dying slowly. The hero approached and knelt before her, he prayed for her peace in death and noticed the pull to look at her clasped hand.
Opening her hand as gently as he could his eyes grew wide. A dragon the size of his pinky nail clutched two copper bits in its claws. The coins were ancient beyond imagination. How it had survived only a dragon would know. The hero picked it up gently and met its gaze. The word of Sondet filled his mind, “keep him safe. Let him grow to adulthood. Then the call will end.”
That’s all for tonight, but it is not the end of this story. Drink, be merry, and rest well. I will see you tomorrow.