It hadn’t been easy convincing Gileon to leave behind the Sanguinators Academy and his training, but he owes me. Agazuul recounted the times he’d saved Gileon, and Gileon had required a lot of saving throughout their years of working together. Gadraek Borlakvann had smiled at Agazuul as if knowing he’d come for him.
“You can’t do this, Agazuul. We had an arrangement!” Aquilan Zylstina had shouted at him.
“You’ve gotten everything; I’m taking my friends along for this!” Agazuul had roared back. Aquilan had closed the distance, getting a good look at Agazuul.
“You think the world belongs to you for your strength, right? You haven’t taken any time to consider that I could be the better leader of us two!” Gadraek had snorted at that.
“Stuff it, you oaf! You won’t be a loss to the Sanguinators; all you’ve done has been to embarrass me and undermine the authority granted to me.” Aquilan had snapped back.
“I beg of you, leave Gileon here. Do not take him on your foolhardy quest. He shows great potential in the summoning arts, but I fear that if you take him, I’ll never see how good he could become.” Aquilan pleaded, but Agazuul gave it no consideration. There was doubt on Gileon’s face, pulled between two friends, two people who had his back, who saved his life, but Gadraek had drawn towards Agazuul, and Gileon couldn’t bear two friends going on a dangerous journey and not coming with them.
It had been a trek that had nearly meant Agazuul’s death. Agazuul was fantastic at dealing with single targets. However, the sheer number of soldiers at Muina-Amar brought back memories of the hordes of undead they had fought through to steal Orcus’ lost sword—the sword he wielded, augmented by his father. Agazuul had risked their entire mission, using finite magic to call upon the connection, one marked in blood; he had to know who his father was. Agazuul had never dared dream that his father would turn out to be a mighty Ifrit, much less the ruler of Ignisium.
Now they were here, using the same tunnels they’d once crawled out of to seek the help of the Sanguinators: Carl, Agazuul, and Lixiss–the one person still missing from their party. Agazuul looked around and noticed Carl’s absence. He had been standing next to Agazuul a moment ago but was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve fallen back to the back of the line, Agazuul thought. Carl was always too much of a coward to take the lead.
As they traversed through the tunnels, they encountered various seemingly abandoned checkpoints. “Why do you think they left their post?” Gileon asked with trepidation.
“They left supplies, so it should have been recent and not permanent,” Agazuul answered while opening a crate to investigate.
“Are you sure your companion Lixiss still regards you as a friend? The entrance we came through on the surface was one you were all aware of, and this seems to be an awful lot of protection just in case someone accidentally finds it,” Eira said.
It had been quite the disappointment for Agazuul; a hundred came, and only eight joined with Agazuul; of the dozen that survived, four went back with Raiann. The wyvern's blood must’ve soaked deeper than Agazuul had accounted for, as two wyverns attacked them when they passed by Wyvern Dale. They had lost Eerik & Kaino that day. Most still bore heavy wounds and the drayman Ambrose who’d they’d only met moments before had fallen to the attack as well. Agazuul, despite himself, couldn’t help feeling proud of the survivors: Patrick, Paula, Eira, Matteus, Alma and Mirva.
They came across a defensive fortress where the tunnels grew wider and reached far higher as they went further in. The fortress stood as a wall that filled the entirety of the tunnel; unlike fortresses of the surface, there were no battlements or towers of any kind, and still, the structure remained recognizable. There were wooden panels that could be opened for the spilling of boiling liquid, arrow slits across every tier of elevation, and wide banners announcing the ownership. The banner depicted a spider seen from above with an emerald in its abdomen, dripping bright emerald venom from its mandibles on a blue-gray background. Here, there were guards; crossbows peeked through arrow slits announcing their vigilance. The tunnel they just traveled through with nothing but the flickering flames of torches to fight against the encroaching darkness became brightly illuminated with the crystals that made their torch fire a frightening beast when brought too close.
“Is this going to be a battle? I hope it is going to be one!” Gadraek announced, a hearty laugh beginning to build before being silenced by Agazuul. Agazuul gauged the situation, looking for possible ambush spots and seeing large rocks that could hide four full-grown dark-elves close enough to the fortress to conceal a possible entrance or exit.
“Patrik, Alma and Paula spread out and stay vigilant. Eira and Matteus you two guard Gileon. Should it come to battle, he’ll need every second to summon something to turn the tide,” Mirva commanded. Her cloak seemed to give even more well earned authority to her words, the cloak fashioned from the torn rags of Kaino’s surcoat. Mirva had called it a reminder of their sacrifices and the cost of fear. Mirva had proven her qualities of leadership in the battle against the wyverns; Agazuul had put too much focus on his sequence of blood spells, sword swings, riding a flying fire-wolf, to make sure Carl participated instead of hiding away behind the cart. Mirva blamed him for the loss of Eerik and Kaino who had died from his wounds on the way to the Sanguinators Academy. Agazuul was still her superior, but he shouldn’t get bogged down by having to issue commands in a moment of high tension.
Agazuul kept a distance from the fortress and was alert to possible ambush spots he had noticed earlier as he announced his presence to the dark elves.
“I need an audience with Lixiss! Could you take me to her so that we might talk?” There followed a silence, long enough to set some dark-elves to ambush.
“What could you, a non-dark-elf, possibly have as a reason for an audience with the great Lixiss Qintoris?” asked a voice without discernible origin. The great Lixiss, what had she been up to all this time to be referred to as the great and by full name? Agazuul was left pondering. This reverence made him realize that he’d have to change his approach and figure out how much of a prominent figure she had become.
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“I used to travel with her. I was at her side when we drove back the Demonic Dukes before her rise to greatness.” Agazuul slowly removed his sword from its sheath and laid it on the ground. The six Rastaytan soldiers who’d come with them did the same, as did Gadreak and Gileon shortly after. Where was Carl? The thought made Agazuul nervous.
“Lixiss Qintoris is The Blade of The Spider Duchess, the Grand Matron, Duke Devourer & Webweaver, and soon she shall be even more!” exclaimed that originless voice. Agazuul knew what the titles meant; she had become known as a chosen champion. She was revered and beloved as the mother protector of Myth’Ath’Areana. Lixiss had vastly oversold their actions to be named something ostentatious like ‘Duke Devourer.’ The last one paused him; it was a title not recorded to any name in centuries and reserved for those who united guilds. Agazuul feared what it could mean for the not-too-distant future, as every title bearer before her had gone on worldwide conquests.
“We have found you matching the description of Agazuul. Is the one known as Carl with you?” The voice from nowhere asked. Agazuul shook his head, hoping that whatever Carl had done to stay out of sight would last long enough to be permitted entry.
“Very well, come through, but your men shall be our captives.” The tone brooked no argument, so Agazuul didn’t put up any; instead, he took his sword back from the ground and sheathed it, commanding the six soldiers to present their weapons to their captors, reluctantly agreeing. As a large gate opened, permitting entry, twenty dark elves stepped out to cuff the soldiers and guide Agazuul. Gadraek and Gileon looked at Agazuul for a long while; Gadraek’s look spoke of trust, while Gileon seemed afraid and angry. It was a risk; Agazuul knew that. What has become of Lixiss over these past years? She certainly picked up enough titles. Agazuul thought just before he saw where Carl was.
As they were all led inside, a singular dark elf, seeking to close the gap in their formation, pushed hard into nothing. It only seemed like nothing for a moment as the dark elf quickly drew their sword, only to be met with a burst of cold and the appearance of a balding plain human in a burgundy trench coat.
They spent the journey to Myth’Ath’Areana in chains. Their people were initially held as a precaution but were now considered a threat. That dark-elf died; the blast of cold froze the blood within their veins, causing icy crystals to pierce their skin. While Agazuul’s name bought them some reprieve from execution, it would be a hard sell. Carl better not mean the death of those six soldiers and my friends. He’s already been the death of three. If only he didn’t act the coward at every chance, Agazuul thought.
In one of the fortresses they passed through, Agazuul glimpsed something disturbing. Eight eyes on a rounded, almost toadlike human face, the jaw was twisted and broken, looking like insectoid mandibles. This gray-skinned creature had half a torso attached to what appeared to be a spider's body, but where one expected to find the needle-like legs, one found four pairs of arms with hands that bore an extra finger but no thumb. It was monstrous, but what bothered Agazuul the most was what little scraps of clothing clung to the creature; there seemed to be some symbol upon those. Agazuul gleamed red flames with a blue runic symbol on a black background to provide contrast. Agazuul had fought some of that guild when they were still fugitives in the Deeprealm. Lixiss told him back then about the various guilds of Myth’Ath’Areana; this was the crest of the Magmea guild; smiths, and mages capable of infusing magic into objects. Is this your work, Lixiss? He could not help himself ask. It had been a long since they saw each other; for a moment, fear gripped him and beyond that uncertainty in his current course of action.
Neither of them had seen Myth’Ath’Areana before. It was a cave with a vaulted ceiling that reached far higher than the elven towers of Muina-Amar. The cave was big enough to hold Gwynolf in its entirety; stalactites and stalagmites had formed here and looked like giant teeth trying to close in on one another, many of them far bigger and more imposing than any wizard tower he’d ever seen, wooden bridges hung between various stalactites, and light streamed from every corner gap and opening, giving the cave a warm glow. Agazuul saw dark elves mounted on giant spiders, practicing at swords. The hives here seemed to breathe, but as they got closer, it became clear that hundreds of giant spiders crawled over these hives. Agazuul kept staring towards the Realmgate, where stalagmite and stalactite met, thinking they would meet Lixiss there, but he soon found himself proven wrong as they were going away from it instead of towards it.
The way before them opened, not a single tooth could be gleamed here to crush trespassers; instead, they saw large fields illuminated by the same sort of crystals they’d seen before. Mushrooms of all shapes and sizes and dark-elves to tend them, the sudden tranquility Agazuul felt made him forget he was supposed to be a prisoner as he knelt to get a closer look at a particular mushroom. It was a blue cone-shaped one with orange dots and a light brown stem. As Agazuul was being yanked back from it and given another mushroom to smell, he snapped out of that tranquility.
“I forgot those tokay caps did that; you did well by your quick thinking, Ku’nio.” One of their captors said to a farmer, who nodded in response. It was a strange interaction to Agazuul; dark elves in history books were notoriously apathetic and extremely tribalistic. Are these my misgivings, or did Lixiss turn this place on its head? Either means that there’s a chance that all I learned will be for naught. Agazuul couldn’t help thinking.
As they took a path designated by Ku’nio, they soon found their way to a part of Myth’Ath’Areana that was the bustle of industry; the clang of hammer on anvil with the bright red fires of the forges mixed with the smells of coal, fragrant oils, waxes, burning iron and when they passed by close enough the unique smell of quenched steel; a rich smell that would take over a room for a moment. As the clang dimmed, the sound of rock chiseling increased. This fortlike region of the city had sculptors working on giant statues in the open areas while builders set to repairs or loading spider carts to make their way to another part of the city. There was a beauty to this city Agazuul could not deny, but as they left this district, they traversed through a rubble-ridden field, stalagmites cracked open like anthills, decaying bodies twisted, maimed, or pulped. A large stalactite stretched out before them, and a wooden bridge capable of being pulled in allowed their entry. They saw the city from above through the many windows; in contrast, the city so far had no glass they’d seen; this stalactite had stained glass windows in every hole to the outside, each telling a story that Agazuul wasn’t in the know of, the more he saw, the more he realized this was all depicting Lixiss on a grand crusade of uniting Myth’Ath’Areana, her mercy and her wrath: the guilds she destroyed and the ones she spared.
A long, wide table with a map of Myth’Ath’Areana stood in the middle of this vaulted-ceiling dining hall-like chamber. The dark elves who had escorted them so far left them without chains in the room. It did not take long for the door to open with a smiling dark elf behind it.