Rye’s opinion on sieges remained quite the same as five lives ago: They were not her favorite pastime, especially not when enacting them against her own people. The castle at the end of their promised path was supposedly there to protect the north entrance to Loften, but if they didn’t even let those people carrying souls back to the gods pass, then why make an entrance at all?
“Where the fuck are those three damned legionnaires?” Elia yelled as she walked down the road leading away from the temple.
They’re probably already on their way to Castle Glenrock. Or maybe you scared them off with all your cussing.
An overturned cart blocked her way. Elia found nothing of value among its remains. “Maybe you overslept.”
You’re such a piece of work.
“No, we’re two pieces. I thought you studied math.”
I thought you were an expert cloud-navigator. Cloud-navigate us to Glenrock Castle then, please.
“Touché. Moving on it is.”
Crossroad Temple was built under a fifty-foot tall cliffside where the foothills of the nearby mountains transformed into jagged terrain, stone peeking out under carpets of sickly yellow grass. The never-ending maze loomed heavy in memory and sight on one side, the endless drop onto the surface of another world at the other.
This temple then was in a remote location that seemed designed to break the back of any person or animal transporting goods up and down, though how the many large tombstones and variably sized stone sarcophagi found their way this far away from civilization remained a mystery. Yet even in this remote place, civilization reached.
A path along the cliffside was marked by rocks and the occasional rope tied in elaborate knots or handholds to prevent a plunge down dizzying heights. Where the strewn stone and dirt floor was washed away by landslides and a past deluge, wooden walkways allowed for less than stellar passage in between the broken pieces of a road carved into the mountain side. As long as they, too, weren’t washed away.
There were side passages of doubtful reliability, small workarounds to the workarounds that seemed more practical than safe. They found themselves on one such side path, much to the dismay of some. The scaffolding creaked ominously with every second step. Elia tried hard not to look down.
Do you have a problem with heights?
“Birds, mainly.” Elia peeked over her shoulder, only to jerk herself back as she had the impression of losing grip. “Big fuckoff giant ones. They’re made of rock. Killed me in the maze every time I tried to cheese it. I could go for some cheese. Or a ski-lift.”
Just following the path ahead was taking all her attention. Being able to look down on something still gave off the impression of a physical transgression and imminent violence. A number of scenarios played in her head; the giant stone bird variably throwing her off, squishing her against the cliffs or kidnapping her to feed its gravelly young.
The worst part: in between the steep descent, the north-duck cloud was obscured behind the mountainous massifs. Already, insecurity was mounting.
I always thought rocs stayed in the loft parts of Loften, that they were bound to service under the gods, or that they didn’t exist.
“Knew it.” Elia said in between switching her hands on the handholds, breathing a heavy sigh as the end of this particular reroute was coming into sight. “Gods were trying to sabotage me. Knew what I was planning. Sent the birb inquisition. Next thing you know, they’ll put archers out here to shoot us down.”
She ducked, in anticipation of immediate divine intervention. Nothing came. She probably looked like an idiot.
You look like an idiot. Get up, it’s just a mountain pass. See? We’re already through.
And just like that, they were. A small plateau greeted them, the road continuing on with few obstacles and fewer holes. With muscles that felt too tense for the twenty-minute hike, she lowered herself from a wooden plank hammered into a sheer stone overhang. Her feet met the ground and only then did she let go of the secure rope.
She was doing fine. Everything was fine. For now.
“Shit. I’m going to hate doing that every time we croak.”
Quibbles croaked, adding that yes, he too would not like turning into a frog-shaped smear after a sudden fall down infinity cliff. Though when Elia looked down, the ground was much closer than a dozen miles, closer even than a few hundred feet. The landscape opened up in front of her eyes, her heart nearly missing a few beats too many.
The road ambled downwards in a twisting left-right fashion, disappearing behind hills and the forest that stretched from the foothills to the horizon. She was looking down upon a valley, starting with a ten-lane road that crumbled where the world abruptly stopped and ending on the other side in a rise that went up, up and up. The pass cleaved the ever-steepening incline down the middle and the great mountain into twin peaks. A castle– no, a sprawling leviathan of a fortress was set in between the slopes on either side, ring after ring of walls dissuading anyone from illegitimate passage. The top was crowned by a keep near carved from the mountain itself, towers rising around it until they joined a wall that appeared to run across the very peaks as well.
Wow.
“Wow indeed.” Elia took a moment to just revel in the sight. “This. This here is adventure. Primo medieval style meets fantastic megalomania. Imagine the taxes people had to pay to have this constructed, imagine how many workers died during construction and now haunt those walls. And we’ll be right in the middle of it. Oh, the places we’ll go, the things we’ll see.”
The people we’ll meet.
“The loot we’ll find.” Elia nodded. “I’m pumped. You pumped?”
I… yes? I think? I am ‘pumped’. I’m pumped! Oh, do you think they have a chapel or even a larger temple? I really would like to make another sacrifice and pray for my family. And for our safety of course.
An eyebrow arched; doubts formed. “Are you planning on ‘donating’ all our hard-earned shards to your imaginary friends again?”
N-no. The gods are real. And they don’t have friends.
“God, I fucking hope so.” Elia swung her axe, entirely without malice. “You should gamble your shards away like a good little consumer. It’s good for you.”
I’d rather trade them for safe passage or an escort back to Arvale, back home. But if there were any place to trade souls for goods and services, it would be Loften.
“Then what are we waiting for?” With a smile on her face and a renewed kick to her step she set into a relaxed wander downslope.
Her newly improved constitution was already making itself felt. No longer did she need to stop after an hour of walking for an extended break, no longer was she close to a cardiac arrest after five to ten minutes of jogging. The air in her lungs was fresh and with a sigh she could almost feel all her previous tension bleed away. This was better than a vacation. This was the smell of progress.
Despite the ring of cloudless sky allowing for moderate light at best, a few lone rays shone through lingering fog, giving the not-so-distant walls a phantasmic feeling as they approached. The road was steep and not as uninterrupted as she would have liked, but a landslide had turned the river she was expecting to traverse into a passable dried out slope of rubble. It was good fortune, seeing how a particularly large boulder had smashed their bridge across it. Elia scaled it, just to see if she could. The answer was a yes, though she near failed at pulling her own body weight plus armor up.
Next up was definitely an increase to her strength. Or new boots. Preferably both. Two thousand for the latter, at least four for the former.
This doesn’t look safe.
“It’s fine.” Elia said, balancing on the ten-foot rock nestled in between two forking trunks. “Just getting the lay of the land. Recon. Scouting.”
I feel small even from up here.
“Yeah.” The road ahead worried her much more. Those walls were built thick and tall. Ludicrously tall. They seemed to grow, one-upping one expectation with the next the further their path took them downhill.
I never heard of a castle being built at the entrance of Loften. Our capital was always safe in the valley, and we never had to fear any incursions of the barbarous kingdoms nor the forest beasts. It seems like a waste of labor and resources, but what do I know. You think they’ll let us through?
“Maybe. For now, I spy trouble ahead.”
You can see that far? Sorry, but my eyes never were really good at looking too far, everything’s blurry to me after a few dozen feet.
Elia made to climb back down, the trees offering a safe descent “Same eyes I’m using. Just saw movement is all. Possibly not friendly.”
Undead?
“Likely, though not the talky-huggy kind. Dregs, these mindless ones were called?”
Dregs. The leftovers of a person when all humanity has left them. It happens, the longer an undead is alive the less they are themselves. They can live forever if no one puts an end to them. Still lucent undead technically count as people before the law, though that never seemed to prevent some folk from starting a manhunt when an unwanted dead relative came knocking for one last goodbye, or to add stipulations to their will.
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“Yeah. If my grandma came back just to continue nagging me, I’d pick up a pitchfork as well.”
Oh, well, I more meant when kids get involved. They don’t really understand that they are dead and that makes telling them they need to go more… complicated.
A moment of soaking up implications went by. “Sheesh, and you call yourself civilized.”
People who hunt undead children are bad apples! My family would never do something like that. They’d accept me or any of my brothers and sisters. I know they would.
“Somehow, I’m inclined to believe you.” If only to prevent herself from worrying over yet another potential issue.
Walking on a riverbed flooded with loose dirt and rocks wasn’t as easy or safe as Elia thought. More than once, she put down her foot only for it to sink into a hollow, or stumble and risk twisting her ankle. They still had a dozen dried fruit left, but she’d rather not waste them despite their divine taste.
They arrived soon at another bridge, this one made of stone in a neat arch that was cleaved in half by past forces of nature. Wooden planks connected the two bridge stumps. The rocks, trees and dirt had piled up against it, blocking the path further ahead. The closer Elia got, the more nervous she grew.
“We’re in a bad spot. Low ground, bad lines of sight, uneven footing. Primo ambush position if you ask me.”
Why would soldiers of Loften want to ambush us? We’re on the same side.
“Really?” Somehow, that narrative didn’t fit with her previous experiences. “Huh. Guess I’ll politely ask the next dreg for an escort.”
…somehow, I suspect you don’t actually mean that.
As if to answer Elia’s suspicions, the first corpse greeted them. Sprawled across the floor, a pool of dark blood soaked its already dirtied coat of arms. On it, a long yellow dog curled behind two mountain peaks, eyes and jaws focused intently on the rift in between.
Is… are they dead?
“I mean, most of his blood is on the outside.” Carefully, she approached and turned the undead’s face with her axe. “Looks as dreg-y as any dreg I’ve ever met. Funny looking coat of arms though.”
That’s a floppy dog.
“Incredibly floppy. Anyhow, let’s take another route. One with less corpses and–”
A shudder ran through the undead’s body.
EEP!
Elia caved its head in with a simple swing of her axe and it crunched like a watermelon. There was an unusual heft to her new weapon. A bit top heavy. She preferred a shortsword she could put her entire weight behind, but this would do. Not like the dregs were using weapons that were any more sophisticated.
Ugh, that sound, I think I’m gonna…
Rye did, loud and long. Another thing to get used to. The last time Elia felt squeamish she hadn’t even met Quibbles yet. She returned some of the undead’s brain matter by wiping it on its coat. Undead soldiers. Better armed and armored than militia, still pretty slow.
“So yeah, some undead come back after a time. No idea how long, no idea why, no idea even how they heal at all. Only thing I know is that this guy didn’t give souls, or shards. Which means…”
S-someone else took them already?
“My guess exactly, brain bud. We’re on the right track. Now,” she studied the way ahead, where the remains of a massacre lay under a bridge. “Let’s hope we find the legionnaires instead of just three more bodies.”
At Rye’s whimper, she snuck forward, peaking over a fallen conifer. Four figures stood among the corpses, definitely not their friends– acquaintances rather. If they were there it would be among the corpses, the dozen of which could get back up at any time.
As it looked, the riverbed was a deathtrap, especially since she noticed the odd crossbowman staggering about near misshapen shrubbery along the former riverbank. She counted one, two… was that a third one or just the second one from a different angle? The lack of clear eyesight beyond about twenty feet was really working against her outside of the hemmed in corridors of the maze. Shortsightedness only became relevant once she had to peer beyond the next simple step.
“Say, did you people invent glasses yet?”
Glasses? Well, only super rich people drink from glass cups and decanters, make entire windows out of it. I mean ludicrously rich, like owning a mansion, twenty plus servants, a seat in the local centibat.
“Alright. That answers that.” She peeked around a patch of thorny shrubs. Two on the bridge. One shortsword, moderately armored. Robes on the other, easy kill. “Rye, use your new magic missile launcher and blow them to dust and ash and smithereens!”
She stretched out her arm, waiting for Rye to take over. But nothing happened.
I… I can’t.
“Right. Forgot. You’re still down with chronic pacifism. Horrible disease.”
It’s not… I’m not sick, ok? I just… give me some time.
Elia watched them stagger back and forth, repeating their little patrol ad infinitum. “They still feel human to you?”
Mhm.
“Figures. You’ll grow out of it.” As she stared ahead, a third figure appeared hidden behind the balustrade. “Any opinions on dogs?”
I don’t like spikey dogs. Floppy dogs are alright, I guess.
“This half-undead mutt looks plenty spiky. Teeth. Open ribcage.” Lightning fast speed and reflexes, at least as far as undead were concerned. A priority target for sure. “You good for that?”
A tingle down her arm was the only response. The dog marched on, skinless face with deep eyeholes bereft of any awareness. Its skinny flank offered an easy target. Once again, nothing happened.
It’s not working. It’s not– Oh. Oh that feels weird.
Rye shook her arm like a wet dog trying to dry itself. Elia waited patiently for an explanation, mostly because she’d rather not talk out loud in the presence of the dog, nasty, perceptive little things that they were. They always went for joints first.
A shudder ran down her spine.
So, I have a boon for a magical conjuration, yes? Well, normally you’d have to study for months, even years at an academy to learn how to cast even the most basic spell. But for me, the boon just… deposits the knowledge into my mind, makes some small changes to my body and whoosh, I can cast the spell right away. It feels very natural, but I believe I require a magical focus?
“Like a crystal orb, a shrunken head or a Furby?” Elia whispered.
The dog stopped dead in its tracks.
Y-yes! Yes exactly. And without a focus I don’t have a channel, a vehicle, just the energy. The spirit, I think? That’s why it says [Spirit] before the boon, right? Yes, yes this is true–
Elia couldn’t wait any longer. The dog was sniffing, heading directly towards them. She stood up, palmed a rock, and sprinted at the first of three targets. The dog raised its head, barking somehow despite missing most of its throat and ate a rock to the snout.
Undead dogs could whimper, apparently. This one quickly turned it back into a growl, but Elia was already onto it. The axe swung down, missing the head as it jumped at the last second, but crippling a hind leg in return.
A mobility kill? No, she’d have to finish it off.
The undead with a shortsword entered her vision next, a woman by the looks of it. It was hard to tell with her face like flayed paper drawn over a bare skull. The eyes still glinted, hatefully, as she pulled her implement of destruction back for a comically large and obvious stab.
The widely telegraphed strike was easy to dodge, but Elia remained careful. A metal chestplate could ignore a hit like that. Her lamellar and mail would block most of it, but the impact might crack a bone.
She took the initiative and countered the lunge with a quick hack to the back of the head. A hack that she missed as she slipped on a loose rock.
Embarrassing. The axe was new, felt unaccustomed, as did her body. Elia had to get back in the groove, pronto.
The dog came next, already running on three legs to chew at her ankles like a spicy pair of chicken drumsticks. This time, her hack cracked the dog’s spine, the crunch eliciting another sickened sound from Rye, who was not having a fun time at all.
You have gained: Soul x45
Spikes of joy at the familiar notification were drowned as a blue bolt of something knocked the air out of her, cracking a rib. The robed one. A mage. Of course, it was obvious in hindsight, but she had just discounted him as a mountaineer or wanderer for lack of weapons.
The militia woman took Elia’s staggering steps back as an opportunity to launch into a flurry of strikes, a familiar pattern of unrestrained violence cruelly lacking in skill and aim. The mage was already conjuring up another bolt, forming the softball sized orb of ice with alarming speed.
The woman had to die. Now.
Bracing herself to receive a few nicks, Elia pushed around the woman just as she was unbalanced in the opposite direction. The strike that came for her deflected off her bracers, though it left a sharp cut on her cheek before she could lodge her axe in the woman’s neck.
You have gained: Soul x77
The moment she did, Elia grasped the body and held it close. As expected, the mage shot uncaring of his ally and the ball shattered like a primitive grenade against her human shield. Her fingers burst into cold-hot pain, rimes of ice between her gloves crunching as she let the body fall.
Not enough to kill her. She could do this all day.
The rest was simple. Elia charged. Elia domed the mage before he could cast another spell. His body fell like all the others.
You have gained: Soul x108
You have gained: Bone shard [Common] x1
She stood above her foes, in part champion, in part just a survivor, heart pounding like she’d just looked down a thousand-foot drop. Adrenaline faded and the pain in her chest bloomed while hot blood slowly pulsed more and more feeling into her fingers. Three on one, no chance to set up an ambush. That would have been a difficult fight before, but nothing she couldn’t handle now. No need to waste consumables.
…is it over?
Elia nodded, before remembering that her brain buddy probably had her inner eyes close. She plucked the gnarled, thin staff from the dead conjurer’s hands and inspected it, turning it this way and that.
Conjurers staff
Focus used by the conjurers of old Yorivale. Wrapped in coarse fiber-leather to always remind the acolyte of the humble beginnings of their art.
“Hey Rye. This’ll work for your magic, methinks.”
Her arm tingled, hand turned, staff waved.
Oh. Oh, this is great. GREAT! I-I have magic. Me, Rye, farmgirl and firstborn. Magic.
A giggling glee echoed inside her head, infectious and rare. Like a child with a lighter.
“If you say you don’t deserve it again, I’ll chuck it off a cliff.” Elia chuckled. “Now c’mon, do something cool. Here, I’ll give you emotional support. Ma-gic, ma-gic, ma-gic!”
Shhhush! You’re making me blush! I have to mentally prepare myself… Alright, ready?
“Always.”
Rye pointed her staff at a nearby tree and the end started glowing. Elia felt something flow down her arm in the same way an ice cube dimpled down a river. Her breath came out foggy and the next thing she knew, a thick bolt was slowly materializing at the staff’s tip out of seemingly nowhere.
Now point… and… release?
The heavy piece of ice flung off towards the tree. It veered off to the left, thunking into the ground way before it could even miss the target. Elia stared in disbelief at the deep gouge left by the chunk as it slowly turned to steam and the steam dissolved into thin air.
I missed…
“You kidding me? I’ve got an alternate persona capable of casting magic! I’m a magic girl now! You did it! Rye, you did it!” She wooped and hollered and tacitly didn’t mention that magic bolts were meant to look like defined shapes, in this case like an actual bolt shot from a crossbow, not an ovoid chunk of ice.
Her spirit stat was hit the worst by her repeated deaths as an undead. Rye wasn’t at fault here and admitting her own would only serve to demoralize the fragile companion egg in her head.
I did it. Yeah, I did.
“More than just that, that bolt was the size of a football and a half.” She laughed, banishing her worries as she reveled in the carnage that was to come. “Forget potato cannons, you’re dispensing a gallon of dense, high velocity hurt with every cast.”
Well. I’m glad you liked it. You can count on my magical support for any beasts, bad dogs and other nasty critters!
She tried to flourish her staff in a fancy way. All that accomplished was hitting Elia in the face.
…sorry.
“No worries my cranial companion.” Elia said, rubbing her nose. “We’re gonna go far together. And by the looks of it, the way ahead isn’t all that unguarded either.”
Maybe we can take another route?
“Or maybe… maybe we can get enough souls for those boots you wanted.”
Elia had to admit, she never heard Rye as torn as then. There was no other path to the fort, not one that didn’t involve rock climbing and navigating the slippery woods, an impossibility without the north-duck cloud. If the choice was between risking her life for no souls and risking her life for souls and shards, then there wasn’t more than one correct answer.
Soul count: 1206
Shard count: [Common] x3 [Uncommon] x0
With a smile on her lips, she sauntered over the bridge, almost letting herself believe that things were starting to look up for her.