“… and that is how you control ten thousand dregs with nothing but water, brainslugs, and a steady supply of compostable materials for their spawning pools.”
Rye licked her lips. So far, the ex-goddess of wisdom had listened with rapt interest. Rye on the other hand had never felt more sick in her entire life, and not just because she was filled with enough nervousness to explode ten people.
It wasn’t her own lecture. Rhuna had done almost all the work down to writing her a script, and when asked if she needed some books from the library of forbidden knowledge, she just said she didn’t need it. She’d made all this in a day and still had time to annotate every little tidbit with fold-out, color-coded cards. And it felt terrible knowing that Rye’s only purpose was presentation.
Smile, look pretty, and don’t fuck it up.
“An interesting proposal,” Uovis said, leafing through the few illustrations that had been Rye’s contribution. “The Xandrian Botfly-larva was always known to be unusually adept at manipulating nerve endings of their hosts, yet this application is… novel. If I may ask, is this all theory?”
“It has been tested… extensively.”
Oh great, way to make yourself out to be a war criminal, Rye.
She bit back the gall rising in her throat as she checked her notes. “B-but these critters aren’t just good for mind control. When trained on certain impulses, they can stimulate the Hippocampus to trigger memories that dregs have long thought forgotten. It could do good, real good, if only there were some way to remove all the icky rest of–”
“I believe thou hath flung thy spittle long enough.”
Rye went completely still. Even without a change in tone, it felt like a verbal slap across her face.
Did she notice that it’s not mine? Oh, who am I kidding, she totally knows.
“I commend thy spirit. Among all the lands, there art none whom could dream up such an initiative, bar myself, of course.”
Here it is, here’s the verdict. Rye the cheater, unworthy of even writing her own name.
“Thou hath passed the trial, and art worthy of all the rewards this entails.”
You have completed an official great trial
You are moderately worthy
Rye felt it as if an invisible chain lifted from around her neck and shoulders, and a small fairy-frog was seconds from jumping around a corner to tell her that she was still dreaming. Maybe her ears were still full of dream water.
“What?”
“In addition to these rewards, I allow thee to take whatever thou desires from mine library. May the knowledge serve thee well in thy pursuits.”
Rye just stood there, making her best impression of a beached fish.
“I-I am honored, of course, but…” But nothing. This was her out. She should just take it and be happy. “What will you do once we’ve left?”
“I am unwanted by the mountain, yet I cannot leave it. I will stay, and await the end. For what else is one so unloved by the world to do?”
“You could come with us?” But the sorrowful expression as she stroked a black feather told her it wouldn’t work. “Nevermind. It was a stupid thing to ask. I mean, not that we wouldn’t want to take you with us, but–
“–ascending the mountain to meet those whom I hath forsaken doth not compel me.” She smiled. “Move along now. Thou deserves all thou art given.”
It was hard to agree, or make any decision at all. Her feet were rooted to the ground, even as she averted her eyes. In truth, she already knew she would take the coward’s choice. “… ok.”
Uovis’ smile followed her as she turned to leave through the main path through the forest of naked trees, walking until she was just barely out of reach.
“Truly, such a shame,” the goddess muttered and wistfully stroked her bird-dad’s wing.
Sam and Hannah were waiting for her at the secret entrance. They had made a small camp in front and even stacked up some rocks to make a hostile approach all the more difficult. They both perked up as she approached, packs in hand.
“Well? Are we stuck in this ice-scape forever?” Hannah asked, to which Sam flicked her across the forehead.
“My Bean would never disappoint us. If there is one thing she does best, it’s using her hands for studying. Actually, one of two things.”
“That being?”
“Since when are you too so close?” Rye asked. “How long was I in there?”
“Close to three weeks. In the meantime, I adopted Hannah as my student slash little sister.” Sam caught Hannah in a headlock, to great struggle. “Taught her how to make a fire, how to cook rats, and the basic calm signs.”
Because I forgot that was my responsibility. And because Sam has a fundamental need to worry about somebody.
“Leggo of me!” Hannah yelled. “Agh! Well? Don’t let us wait here like this.”
Rye made a sound between a sigh and a whimper. “We can leave anytime.”
Hannah finally freed herself from the headlock. “I can’t wait to sleep in a bed that is above zero.”
They packed up rather quickly. Sam had a new sword she had plundered from the ruins as her old one had been sewn with kinks and a nasty crack running halfway up the blade. Her new sword looked like something fit for a king which likely meant she had robbed the right sort of grave.
They cuddled while Hannah was busy trying to get seven different staves to fit into her pack.
“Love you,” Rye said.
“Love you too, bean.”
“…but?”
“No ‘but’. I’m just glad we can leave, and that we’ve got a lead on your cure, even if it involves finding the goddess of executions, or bar that, the grail.”
Rye shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes it’s scary knowing what you’d do for me.”
“I wouldn’t want to live without you. I’d fight the world if it meant we could spend one more day together.”
And here I was, thinking of giving up altogether.
“Hey, what’s got you so upset?” Sam tried to wipe one of Rye’s tears away, but it phased through her hand as it was made of ghost stuff.
“I just wish I could be more like you. Brave, loyal, stoic. I’m none of that, I only got here by riding Elia’s coattails, and lying to a depressed goddess. I don’t know why the knight school wanted me to become a knight over you. I was scared then and I’m scared now.” She looked up at Sam. There was strength in those eyes, boundless strength. “How do you do it?”
She thought it over for a moment. “I ask myself if disappointing the people I value is worth not doing everything I can.”
Rye perked up. “So if I think I’d rather see someone happy than sad, I ought to cheer them up?”
“Sometimes, it’s just that easy.” Sam nuzzled her and gave her a quick peck.
“Alright girls, ready to move out?” Hannah asked.
“One moment.” Rye ruffled through her gear. She had taken only a handful of books, the one on giants ascending and the weird fairytale book among them. The latter was what she found first. How did it start again?
In the beginning, all was preserved beneath the great fossil tree…
Suddenly, she jerked up, almost toppling Sam over.
“I need a moment.”
She ran back down the stairs and past the old library in the goddess’ secret home, only slowing slightly as her feet felt ice beneath them. The goddess must not have been impressed by the urgency of her echoing steps, because she looked like she had just woken up from a particularly uninteresting dream.
“Thou art back,” she mumbled around wisps of black hair. Even gods could get bed hair, apparently.
“Y-your father,” Rye gasped. “He’s Erethel, the third great god, yes?”
A nod.
“And he knew magic, even before he, Ruthe, and Worga slew the twin-faced god?”
“He was a master of all, and learned without effort. He was a good teacher.”
“T-then you can’t be unloved by the world, even if you were forced to live as a political prisoner.” She caught her breath and stood up straight. “Everyone thinks he used his fourth of the fourth great god’s body to research magic, but why would he? He already had all the magic in the world, but he didn’t have a daughter. That’s why the other gods disliked you, because he chose to make you from that fourth when he could have had everything else.”
Uovis perked up. Her entire face seemed to lift, and lift, contorting until it looked anything but human. A trio of wings raised from her back, but they were all wrong, and all sprouting from her left side. “Thou art the oddest little creature, pulled apart between compassion and complacency. The gods despise the odd, the unfit, but I do not mind. My birth was a sin, yet it pales when compared to the sins of the grail, the sins of the sun.”
Beneath her hawkish gaze, Rye suddenly felt very small. “What sins?”
The goddess squinted at her. “Dullard, but not a hopeless fool. Go read thy books.” She raised a hand and pointed to her side. “Walk towards the mountainside, where the stone cracks and fissures into the earth. There thou wilt find a great mechanism, with which to propel thyself far up the mountain. Once used for transporting offerings and sacrifices, but now, it shall be thy final reward.”
She felt a small gust of pure reservoir push her towards the exit. It was just rude enough for someone who had overstayed their welcome and dredged unwanted memories to the surface. “I, um, thank you? Good luck – I mean, goodbye. For real, this time. I’d like to come back some time, if that is alright. Is it? Will you be alright?”
The doors slammed behind her, landing her back in front of a confused Hannah and Sam.
“Is everything–
“Yes! I mean, not really. We can go now. Can we go? Now, please.”
Rye marched ahead with stiff arms and legs. The sheer amount of reservoir the goddess had pushed her with was dazzling, like someone smothering her with the largest blanket made of warm, soft water. She felt a little bit better now, but only a little. It still irked her that she couldn’t beat the goddess’ riddle on her own. But if she had to put the wellbeing of her friends above her pride, then she would do it again.
Hey, so, how was my idea? Rhuna asked. Pretty smooth, right?
“I have mixed opinions on using your misdeeds for good. We both know you’re not here to redeem yourself.”
Maybe. Maybe I’m sick of everything too. Maybe that’s why I only provide you options, why I let you make the difficult decisions.
Rye bit her lip.
The mountain massif was fast approaching, like a cart speeding towards a wall. Rhuna still hadn’t commented on why they were going towards instead of away from it, and that was alright. It meant Rye didn’t need to empty her repertoire of excuses just quite yet.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The first they saw of the mechanism was a pair of great statues. They were at least six meters tall, sitting on pedestals just as large, and depicted riders on the backs of dragons, the kind with two wings and two legs. They were well kept and only barely weathered. A few metal wagons with cages lay tumbled by the wayside, but other than those and a few corpses there was no sign of unlife.
“What kind of mechanism do you think this is?” Rye asked Sam as they walked past doors that were way too big to be practical.
“I’ve heard the great god Ruthe was a master of not just creating impossible marvels, but inventing entirely new categories of trinkets and tools. Perhaps it is a gate that connects faraway places. Maybe we’ll have to sit on a catapult and fling ourselves up the mountain.”
Or maybe we’ll find the path that leads to the worst sins. How did Erethel even make a daughter from a corpse? Did he just… nope, not going there. And why was she mostly human-looking?
They arrived in a large chamber, where a deep hole was let into the ground, about twenty meters wide and reaching further down than sight could reach. A large chain was happily grinding its way up out of the depths and if they looked up, the hole went on there too until it was as small as a keyhole.
“It’s a frigging lift!?” Rye exclaimed.
“Like the ones we saw at the docks on Worgsday?” Sam asked.
“Yes, but this is ridiculous. How far up does it reach? Will we have to wait for it?”
“It says wait time: one hour and counting,” Hannah muttered at a terminal, where a series of metal spheres were busily ticking away. “At least we don’t need to use the stairs.”
“Still. Feels a bit cheap.” Rye grumbled.
With nothing better to do, they plopped themselves down and waited to the ever-present churning of mechanisms they couldn’t fathom the size of.
“Double Queens,” Sam said, laying out her hand of cards.
Rye groaned and Hannah folded. Just as they were mixing the cards for the next game, the bottom of the lift platform finally arrived at their level. There were voices coming from it, and by an unsaid agreement they all picked up their weapons. But as the platform stopped with a final rumble, they were greeted by a few familiar faces.
“Karla?” Rye asked.
“Rye?” Karla looked surprised; they all were as they just stared at each other. Finally, Hannah raced forward and embraced her brother in a hug.
“It’s really you isn’t it?” The raven-haired girl pushed herself to her feet, but she was unsteady as a newborn doe. She looked terrible, locks frayed every which way and eyes puffy. Rye rushed over to give her a hand when Karla fully collapsed against her.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Rye asked.
“I think I made a mistake,” Karla whimpered. “I just… wanted to help.”
She pulled her armor to the side. There was a fist sized hole digging into side.
“Okay. Sammy, bowl water. Hannah, we need some bedding. Everyone else–“
She felt Karla grasp her arm tightly until the stone and metal creaked.
“She needs help,” Karla whimpered. “I can’t follow where she is going, and if nobody does… Elia is going to do something terrible.”
That feeling in her gut returned, that feeling that things were going wrong again.
“Why, what is she doing?”
“She’s going to the top. All the way.” Rye gave her a bottle of bowlwater, and the wound closed, but only slowly.
“I’ll do something about it.” She looked to Sam. “We can stop her, right?”
She frowned but eventually relented. “If that’s what you want, then nothing is holding me back.”
And there you go, going back on your word again. Remember our deal, Rye.
“Well…” She swallowed, then looked up the lift. “We’ll just have to catch up before she reaches the top.”
***
Elia sneezed. The air was chilly this far up, and cold to the point of freezing. She never really thought about what it meant to enter the cloud barrier. Maybe she was the stupid one for expecting anything but white-gray fog stretching in every direction.
It’s so thick you can almost drink it.
Hell to the yeah, let’s drink some of that cloud goop!
I’m cold. Aren’t you all cold?
“Y-y-yes,” Elia chattered. “Brod, how much further until the top?”
The giant turned from up ahead. “Almost there.”
He’s been saying that for hours. C’mon, let’s show him what it means to climb for real.
To be fair, it is a rather large mountain.
Please don’t get us lost in the fog. Falling! Death! What if they have traps?
There had been none of that so far with the giant taking the lead. He wove his way through the fog and up broken pathways without so much as batting an eye. If he hadn’t caught up to her before, then at the latest he would have around about here, assuming of course Elia hadn’t tripped and fallen off the edge.
Whenever she looked back or down, it reminded her of the snake, and of Sextus. It still didn’t make sense to her why they would throw themselves willingly to their deaths. Was it loyalty? Were they hoping she would carry on the torch?
She was carrying a piece of Sextus, a burning ember that warmed her pockets delightfully. It never seemed to diminish. Elia was reminded of an ad she had seen about forest fires. ‘One lit cigarette is all it takes to flatten a forest twice the size of Vermont’.
“The gods don’t have forests though, they’re at war with them,” she muttered.
After walking for a while, the ground started to even out. It didn’t change much about only being able to see ten feet outwards, but at least Elia’s calves were getting a rest. Her companion didn’t relax. He seemed even more tense than in the legion’s camp.
There was movement in the fog. Bodies rose, as did the heat. They animated with jerky, sudden motions, as if an unseen force was pulling these creatures along.
“Careful,” he said. “Fire.”
“I know.” She stabbed the first one, which revealed itself as some sort of chainmail-wearing dreg with a tentacle-flower for a head. It was on fire, but something seemed wrong. Its gurgling suddenly turned into a frantic scream as its body swelled in short bursts.
Elia kicked it away, only for the dreg to explode in fire and tarry gore down the hill.
“Fuck me,” she said, as this time a normal tar-knight came at her from out of a rock’s shadow. “Is that what happens when fire meets tar?”
Brod only answered with a grunt as he launched dreg after dreg off the mountain. Well, he certainly was busy enough. Elia herself was only feeling moderately stimulated. Her next opponent, a knight with a corkscrew blade, wasn’t fast enough and only had passing skill. Better than a stationary training puppet, barely enough for a warmup.
Drawing her sword out of its gut, she gave the dreg a good decapitation, making sure that it was dead after falling over before moving on to the next. She and Brod fought their way up to a more level ground at an even pace, turning all their foes into neatly compostable piles of limbs. They made sure not to get even a drop of fire or tar on them, which slowed their ascent, but didn’t stop them.
Slowly but surely, rough stone and gravel gave way for cut stone and bricks. They crossed small arched bridges and climbed around toppled watch towers. There were traps aplenty, as the clouds gave a natural disadvantage to anyone trying to find them before sending them careening off the cliffside. Sense-Elia was proven right again.
The rushing of water became ever louder. It had accompanied them from right after the serpent, a constant rush that seemed to ebb and flow as they wound their way around rock and stone. Where it had started as a gentle current was now a deafening torrent. Like all things on the mountain, the waterfall was unnecessarily huge, the water cascading down in a closed curtain that was like a falling ocean before devolving into chaotic spatters much, much further down.
“Is this the waterfall gate?” Elia yelled over the din.
Brod followed the path until it terminated where a rockslide had taken away any sign of shaped stone. He looked up, tasting the moist and cool air, then nodded. He spoke even fewer words than usual these past few miles. Elia didn’t let it bother her, even if it felt like he was hiding something.
“How did you get up the last time you were here?” she asked.
“I swam.” He mimicked a breaststroke.
“Lemme guess: Good boon.”
He shook his head. “Good food, exercise.”
Welp. The genetic freak apparently could ignore some laws of physics if it meant getting to his goal. He probably couldn’t do it with a person on his back, and Elia wasn’t in the mood to use him as a stepping stone when he was halfway up. Her finesse was good, but when confronted with a wet cliff with overhang, overgrown with algae and other slippery nonsense, stats didn’t have as much say as gravity.
She eyed an uncommon bone die which she had combined previously.
“Maybe I’m in luck this time?”
She threw it. It landed crooked, then decided on a result all on its own.
[Body] Waterproof [Uncommon]
Your skin does not allow liquids to stick. All liquids will naturally form drops that pearl off of your skin with minimal contact.
“Well, at least it’s in a similar thematic ballpark. And we get to keep dry.” But it wasn’t what she needed.
Elia didn’t immediately sell it off. She was getting wet no matter how they approached this hurdle, and therefore would wait until they were at the top. It wasn’t likely any of the other few boons she could roll after this would help her at all. She’d likely have to find someone who would be willing to trade some boons directly.
It was unlikely to matter in the long run anyways.
There was a splash. She watched as Brod swam so quickly he was hovering in the torrent of water. He took a breath, and suddenly she could see him making progress, slowly inching up the waterfall.
That is… so fucking cool. I wanna try, I wanna try.
No way, look at that fall. We’ll never make it out alive. Washed away!
Though the alternatives do remain sparse.
Elia hummed as Brod disappeared into the water and clouds. After around ten minutes of what must have been the most intense breaststroke imaginable, she heard him shout from up high. He made it, it seemed. Judging by the distance, it was somewhere between fifty to a hundred feet vertical distance. Her best jumps evened out at thirty.
“How to bridge the gap?” she mumbled.
Her eyes fell on a sturdy plank and a plan started taking shape in her mind. There was no convenient pivot-shaped rock around, but a few rocks did the trick. She leaned the plank on it.
“Hey Brod! Can you find a big rock?”
He yelled an affirmative and returned shortly.
“Now let it fall straight down!”
He did, and the rock missed by an easy fifteen feet. She hummed as she removed the debris, then repositioned her improvised see-saw right where the impact had taken place.
That’s a lotta force. Do you think this is a good idea?
“I trust Brod,” she said, then yelled back up. “Now get another one, and toss it down in the exact same place!
She crouched on her side of the plank. The sound of anything above was completely drowned out by the waterfall. Her heart was pounding as she waited in silent anticipation.
The rock hit and for an instance, she thought that maybe this wasn’t the most intelligent of ideas. Her contraption launched her up as she used a [Frog leap] at just the right moment to add to the momentum. Elia went far, so far that the clouds rushed past her as if she was hanging her head out of a car on a freeway. And then all of a sudden, the misty haze was gone.
She broke the surface and all her thoughts stopped as her vision was flooded with color.
In front of her a sea of fluffy clouds spread into the horizon, towering cumulonimbus bathing in all the yellows, the oranges, and the reds of an eternal sundown. The sun was right there too, a surprisingly small orb that hovered just far enough in the distance that Elia wasn’t sure whether it was on the horizon, or just a hands-length away.
Beautiful.
I think I’m going to cry.
Did anyone think about how we’ll stick the landing?
Gravity reasserted itself, and Elia plummeted back down, right towards a helpful giant. For a moment, she thought she had miscalculated, thought that he wouldn’t catch her. But he did and she did not go splat.
Even as she clambered off him, neither of them took their eyes off the colorful spectacle.
“It’s like we’re not even on the same planet anymore,” Elia muttered. “The gods just live like this?”
“Hm,” Brod hmm-ed.
“No wonder most of them are pricks.”
“Clouds make it hard to see below. Makes them forget some people only live until thirty.”
“They’re the ones who chose to live up here. And thirty years is a bit low for humans.” Elia blinked. “Wait, giants only live until thirty?”
“Is why so many come up, even if they die, or become servants. Most become soldier. Gods love strong giant soldier. My sister… was good.”
“Oh yeah? Think we’ll meet her up here?” Elia asked as she did some stretches. “I’d love to spar for a bit.”
He turned to look at her. “You would lose.”
“Wha– no way.” He was completely serious. “No fuckin way, I can’t…”
Elia paused.
You were about to say you can’t lose. You can’t be that daft.
“I know. I know.”
Just because they were at the top, didn’t mean that the day was won. There was a wall, for one, as the gods had deemed a thirty thousand foot mountain not enough to dissuade any would-be visitors and solicitations. The gatehouse set into it was as opulent as it was nearly demolished, golden and copper statues broken in half, and an entire upper floor shifting out of the front walls. Something large must have landed on it, and something else must have devastated the front gate.
Elia didn’t miss the smell of smoke.
Are we finally getting the dragon battle we always wished for?
“Are you high? I would never be so stupid that I’d want to fight a dragon.” She looked around. “Would be pretty cool though.”
They stepped past smoldering corpses and weapons strewn everywhere. Elia picked them up, but they were dull, and only pretty to look at. There were sets of golden-black armor set along the far right wall as well, no doubt to give an impression that they stood ready to dress an entire army.
They were made entirely of gold, the cheapest of metals in this world, and completely impractical.
“I guess if someone uses gold-magic, that would be comparable to someone using steel magic back on earth,” she muttered as the red carpet beneath her feet gave way to smoking tendrils.
The violence had pressed through the rear gate and a dozen guards, easily. A small courtyard stood surrounded by much thinner walls than outside, blocking the view into the divine domain except for one large tower of the largest building. An imposing golden-armored woman was slumped against the frame of a dead dragon, her face covered by a golden mask, her forehead sewn with golden spikes like the rays of the sun. Her face was torn with a burning scar, her armor was melted in parts and on her left side it was missing entirely, scorched down to the flesh. In front of her, the ground was strewn with corpses and weapons standing in the verdant grass, which smelled verdant and smoky at the same time.
A large figure was hunched over on all fours in the middle of the chaos. The body of a barbarian-looking undead was skewered on his spear. He flung it to the side, then went back to stabbing the corpses and shuffling them around. His red cloak was in tatters, and all Elia could recognize was the insignia of some bird.
Suddenly, he perked up.
“Rebirth.” His voice was like the growling of thunder, deep and savage. “Fire. Death.”
He turned to face Elia. “Lady Wrath. Returned, at last. Why? So cruel. Why?”
All that was left of the person beneath his armor was a skeleton white with ash that sloughed off in clumps.
“The great general is not exactly lucid.” Elia unsheathed her sword, and spoke to Brod. “You distract him from the front, I get him from behind.
But as she said that, the woman’s body glowed. A red light ran up her wounds and settled inside her eye socket.
The general howled.
You have challenged: General Quintus
You have challenged: Effulgent Render