Hadespera
The 11th of Elaphebolion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
The journey through the halls was uneventful. Lyssa led the way, bow at the ready in case there were any other dark surprises waiting for them. Helwan walked behind using the Everlit Lantern, watching for the revenant. Arche spent the entire walk hoping that some easy, high-level foe would jump out at them so he could get enough experience to level up. No such luck was had.
It was dark by the time the three of them made it out of the dwarven complex. Arche had been completely incapable of climbing out on his own and had to be hoisted by Lyssa. He had seen her fight and been on the receiving end of her blade, but he was still stunned at the incongruous strength the lithe elf had. In moments, she had him out of the hole and sitting on the ground as if he weighed no more than a sack of flour. He was almost a head taller than she was, but there was no doubt in his mind she could tear him apart if she really wanted to.
Upon finally leaving the hole, however, he received a notification.
Beginner Dungeoneer,
You have fought your way through the depths of the Necropolis of Pygmaia, but you have not delved through all the depths have to offer.
Your dungeoneering experience has been modified to reflect this.
You have learned a Skill.
Dungeoneering — Level 7
Where there are dungeons, there are dungeoneers. Far more of the former than the latter.
Each level in this skill will improve your knowledge of dungeons and how to survive them.
Every 5 levels in this skill improves your Perception and Luck by 1.
+1% Chance of Spotting Hidden Things (+7%)
+1% Chance of Spotting Hidden Enemies (+7%)
+1% Chance of Spotting Traps (+7%)
+1 Perception
+1 Luck
A dungeon. Monsters, traps, and treasure, all part of a quest. Arche’s head spun. A foggy awareness stirred somewhere in his subconscious, like the briefest glimpse of a fish in dark water before it disappears from sight. All he was left with was a vague sense of familiarity and the bizarre desire to start laughing and crying at the absurdity of it all.
Somehow, someway, the world had gone mad. And he’d gone right along with it.
Still, one had to accept the facts as they were and a new skill, especially one that provided Perception and Luck, was a welcome addition to his list. The starting level was relatively high but that was likely an indication of the level, or perhaps quality, of the dungeon. It had slain a dozen well-armed adventurers at least, and though he didn’t know what their levels were before they had died, it was no small feat that he and Lyssa had survived. Arche was once again grateful to have Lyssa as a companion. Her skill in battle was without a doubt the principle factor of their survival.
They made camp for the evening, well away from the entrance to the dungeon. The thought of the revenant or some other monster crawling up after them had hastened their steps away. Once settled, Helwan gathered nearby herbs and roots while Arche and Lyssa prepared a fire and set up tents. Lyssa inspected Arche’s bandages, but decided it wasn’t yet time for them to be changed.
Once dinner was eaten and all was quiet for the evening, Lyssa taught Arche how to wield a sword with his left hand and walked him through a simple sword dance until he could repeat it on his own. It was supposed to improve his dexterity and sword skills, and could be done with the sword in either hand or even a sword in both, but his clumsy attempts did little to improve his skill or mood. He practiced until he could barely hold the sword, but no notification of skill gain appeared. Sweating from exertion and with Helwan and Lyssa taking the watches for the evening, Arche settled down into the world of dreams.
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The world of dreams, it appeared, was full of blood.
Arche drowned in an ocean of it; was pelted by a storm of it. His only respite was the occasional corpse that bobbed in the red. Each one disfigured and charred, as though burned, but how one could be burned in an ocean was unknowable. Those that had faces were masks of despair and agony, and they stared at him as though he were the cause of their suffering. Arche pushed them away and crested over a wave, only to see that corpses littered the ocean like dead fish all the way to the horizon.
Something grabbed his foot and he was sucked under the surface, deep into the blood. Arche struggled but the grasp on him was too strong. Blood forced its way past his lips and down his throat. He tasted it, choked on it, as his body screamed for air. Something moved in the crimson. He couldn’t see it but he felt its presence. It bore down on him, crushing him from all sides. It was like a mountain had been placed over his chest as he was pulled ever deeper.
Something approached, pushing apart the blood as it hunted.
It knew of him. It was stalking him. Amidst all that blood, he was known. He was the only one left alive and it knew it. It was the ultimate predator and it had caught his scent.
There was no escape.
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Arche awoke drenched with sweat. He rose swiftly into a sitting position, his shoulder shrieking in protest. Arche clutched at it, wincing as reality settled back upon him. Lyssa was on watch, sitting by the fire. She didn’t move as Arche exited his tent and sat next to the flames, trying to banish the images from his mind.
“Another bad dream?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer. The sensation of drowning, of being hunted, was too fresh in his mind. The wind blew through their camp, howling against the trees and stoking the flames. Arche shuddered. A moment later, a blanket hit his head. His blanket. Arche pulled it away and looked at Lyssa, who was busying herself by poking the fire. The sky above them was beginning to lighten, thin tendrils of purple appearing in the east among the clouds and canopy. Arche flexed his hand and checked his vitals.
Health: 301 / 360
84%
Stamina: 240 / 240
100%
Mana: 160 / 160
100%
His Health was still down from full, which made sense given the fact he was still injured, but it had risen significantly while he slept. Lyssa checked the wound for him and removed the sling.
“You’ll be fine. Don’t move it overmuch or it will hurt, but you should be able to use the arm now.”
“This seems like it’s healing more quickly than it should.” Arche prodded the wound with his fingertips. “Is this normal?”
The scabs were beginning to give way to new skin.
“The higher your Fortitude, the faster your wounds will heal and the greater resistance you have to poisons and venoms. It also helps prevent more serious injuries. Most things heal within a few days. Quicker if you get plenty of rest, but fast healing opens the opportunity for things to heal incorrectly before they can be seen by a professional.”
“So another day and I should be all right?”
“More or less. Your wound will scar, that’s inevitable.”
Arche looked at his mess of a shoulder and shrugged.
“Something tried to bite my arm off. If I got away with a few scars, I’d say I was pretty lucky. It’s not like it was my face.”
Uneasy silence followed his poor attempt at a joke. Arche coughed, uncomfortable, and packed away his tent.
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The journey back to Dawnwood was quiet. No trolls, wolves, or kýklōpes waylaid them and by the time Arche had full mobility back in his shoulder, they were in Dawnwood Forest. Lyssa’s keen sense of direction and her haste in pushing them through the Sylv shaved days off their return. At the end of the fifth day of travel, the trees lining Dawnwood Village were finally within sight.
Arche’s second approach to the village was reminiscent of his first, though this time he wasn’t the only one at whom bows were pointed. Helwan’s ears drooped all the way back and he was clutching onto his horse-like tail with both hands, holding it nervously over his stomach like a blanket half-wrapped around himself.
The treetop elves Arche could see were looking at the satyr with unconcealed derision. More than one bared teeth in a snarl, their hands shaking as if itching to kill him. If he’d had any reservations about the animosity he’d been shown as a human, it paled in comparison to what Helwan was dealing with. Arche put his hand on the satyr’s shoulder and walked with him, trying to offer some small comfort to the frightened satyr. Lyssa walked behind them, a signal to the other elves that she was in control of the situation.
Their progress was stopped at the entrance itself. A tall male elf blocked their path, redwood skin and regal features. He stared impetuously at Arche and Helwan.
“Inventory your spear, human.”
“I can’t,” Arche said.
“I did not tell you to speak. I told you to put away your weapon.”
The elf drew his sword, a beautiful xiphos with an embossed leaf design, and leveled it toward Arche.
“I vouch for him, Velgilar,” Lyssa said, stepping forward between them. “He can keep the spear in my company.”
The elf drew an eyebrow up and turned his sword toward Helwan.
“And do you also vouch for this one? Dallying with a human is one thing but consorting with satyrs? It seems there is no end to your disgrace, Lyssanderyli.”
“I vouch for him,” Arche interjected.
Velgilar spat something in elvish before switching back to the common speech.
“You are human. Your word, like your life, is meaningless. I would hear it from her.”
Arche and Helwan looked to Lyssa. Arche saw the muscles in Lyssa’s back tense and, for a moment, thought she might strike the tall elf.
“I vouch for him.” The words came through gritted teeth.
Velgilar gave a smile that sent a shiver down Arche’s spine.
“Then let it be known. First you debase yourself with humans, now with vermin.”
Lyssa stepped forward, so quickly that not even the elves had time to react, until she was almost touching Velgilar, teeth bared in a feral snarl. Arche was once again surprised at the sharpness of elven teeth. For a people who lived off what the land provided, it seemed their mouths were made for the rending of meat. Velgilar stiffened, his own teeth bared in response but there was no hiding the fear in his eyes. His pupils had constricted until they were near vertical slits.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The action and reaction were so strikingly non-human that Arche had to remind himself that these weren’t humans. These were elves and he knew frighteningly little of their customs.
Lyssa growled something in elven and Velgilar’s redwood face paled considerably. The elf took a slow step to the side, allowing them to pass. His eyes dropped to the ground and, though defiance was still written on his face, the elf made a point of not looking at them. Lyssa walked forward into the village, Arche and Helwan following close behind.
The elves of the village were much more blatant with their observations this time. Several watched them pass with open mouths, gawking at Helwan, who was doing his best to be as small and unmenacing as possible. Lyssa ignored the attention and led them to the enormous tree that served as the village center. Lord Cypress met them outside, a retinue of three elves accompanying him.
He stood tall, a flowing robe the color of autumn blended him into the tall grass, as though he were also a monument of the forest. His face was hard and impassive as he observed them, taking in everything and giving away nothing. Arche shifted his feet. He didn’t like being stared at like that. Even the open hostility the other elves were showing was better, he didn’t have to worry about where he stood with them. This felt like his soul was being bared open and it didn’t feel right that someone else should be looking at it before he could.
The elves that accompanied Lord Cypress were a sour bunch. Tall, willowy, and proud, all three. Two had the skin of dark wood, while the third, the only other woman in attendance besides Lyssa, was more yellow, like cut oak. All were dressed in flowing garments of seasonal array, not at all like the form-fitting armor of the hunters. Arche had no doubt that these were elven leaders, perhaps under Lord Cypress, perhaps beside him. Two of them fixed their displeasure on Helwan, who had been displaying interest in nothing but his cloven feet for quite a while, whereas the oak-skinned lady elf took Arche’s measure.
If the downward twist of her mouth was anything to go by, it seemed she didn’t like what she found.
“You have returned. And not alone.”
Lyssa knelt, startling Arche. He glanced sideways at Helwan but the satyr appeared not to have noticed, so intense was his focus on his hooves. Arche hesitated, then followed suit, nudging Helwan to do the same. The satyr decided to take it a step further, fully laying down on the grass, his knees tucked beneath him.
“I trust that you are successful in the task I set you?”
Cypress spoke the common language, probably for Arche’s benefit, but it was Lyssa who answered.
“Yes, Lord Cypress. The disturbance was the site of dwarven ruins. We found and fought several undead, three arachtaurs, and one of the Persistent, which we managed to trap. In the dwarven treasure room, this spear was affixed to a pedestal and was assessed by the satyr, whom we rescued from the arachtaurs, to have powerful necromantic properties. We believe this to be the cause of the disturbances.”
“Yes, he was right on that account. You, human, place this on the spear.” Lord Cypress removed a wooden bracelet from his arm and tossed it to Arche.
Arche caught it and a prompt appeared.
Bracelet of Privacy
Rarity: Rare
Quality: Excellent
Durability: 55 / 55
Weight: 0.2 kilograms
Effect: Magical Dampening
Magical Dampening
Attaching this item to a person or object will dampen their emission of magical energies, making them more difficult to detect and track through magical means and reduce the effect on ambient Mana in the area.
Arche slipped the bracelet around the shaft of the spear and was met by a prompt.
Do you want to attach the Bracelet of Privacy to [REDACTED]?
Yes
No
Arche indicated ‘yes’ and the bracelet snapped onto the shaft, molding its size and color to be nearly indistinguishable from the dark metal of the spear itself.
“You two have done well in completing this task. I can see the weapon is powerful, as I can also see that you have bound it to yourself, Arche. You have set yourself on a dangerous road, perhaps unwittingly. Nonetheless, you have done what was asked.”
Lord Cypress raised a hand and yet another prompt appeared in Arche’s vision.
You have completed the Quest:
Friends of the Forest
Reward
· 1,000 Experience
· Improved relation with Dawnwood
Your reputation with Dawnwood has improved from Neutral (0) to Friendly (+1,000).
Citizens of Dawnwood will regard you as a friend of their people.
Individuals may still harbor grudges against you.
You have reached Level 11.
As a Human, you gain 5 attribute points to distribute per level.
Arche opened his mouth, but Lord Cypress silenced him with a wave of his hand.
“Delay your words, human, I am not finished.”
The elf-lord’s gaze landed upon Helwan, who shuddered under its weight.
“A satyr. Helwan, is it?”
Helwan flinched at hearing his name. Arche frowned but said nothing as Cypress continued.
“You should know, Helwan, that you are the first satyr that has ever been allowed entry into Dawnwood. Your kind tried once, long ago, to commit atrocities against my people that some here still remember. I understand you are something of a mage and of a scholar. These are good endeavors for a satyr. They imply you have the ability to think. I suggest you use that ability in any interactions you may have with my people here. I will allow you one night’s shelter, then you will be escorted to the edges of our lands, nearest whichever land or city you call home, and you will be allowed to leave with your life intact. Return and you will not find me to be so hospitable.”
“I thank you for your hospitality, lord.” Helwan’s voice was muffled slightly on account of his face being pressed against the ground.
Lord Cypress eyed the satyr for a moment, then nodded.
“Ryalon, escort Helwan to the guest quarters. Ensure no one troubles him. He is our guest for the night and will be treated as such.”
An elf emerged from behind a tree and stepped forward. He hoisted Helwan to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the guest tree. Helwan shot a fearful look at Lyssa and Arche but accepted that he had no choice in the matter.
One of the elves at Lord Cypress’s side said something in elvish. Anger rippled across the elf-lord’s face, gone in an instant. Arche felt his stomach twist as the three accompanying elves fixed all their gazes on him. Cypress turned to face the elves and said something. The three scowled, one of the male elves even going so far as to bare his teeth, but they all inclined their heads and walked away.
“Now,” Lord Cypress said, turning his attention back to Lyssa and Arche. “We have matters to discuss. Follow.”
He turned and climbed the steps that led to the primary hollow of the huge tree. Arche hesitated, unsure if he was included, then followed Lyssa. The guards stayed at the foot of the tree, leaving the three of them alone inside. Lord Cypress made his way to a table that was covered by a large map. Arche came to a stop next to Lyssa, who looked similarly puzzled at their situation.
“The council has convened, Lyssa,” Lord Cypress said quietly, speaking in the common tongue.
Lyssa sucked air through clenched teeth. Arche looked between them but neither paid him any attention.
“Their decision?”
“I explained the situation and the mediation measures. They were not sympathetic. They are going forward with their initial motion.”
A vein in Arche’s forehead pulsed. Why invite him along if they were going to dance around the subject?
“I see. How long do I have?”
“One day to prepare yourself. I have the details arranged. The addition of the satyr was unexpected, but easily incorporated. You will escort the satyr to the edge of our lands on the morrow. Please, watch yourself in his company. I can’t…just watch yourself. On the map is a list of your options.”
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Arche interrupted.
Both elves looked at him, as if realizing he was in the room for the first time. Cypress furrowed his brow but Lyssa spoke first.
“I told you that I committed a crime against my people. I broke one of my people’s most important laws. I have been paying for it since, but now the sentence has come. As of tomorrow, I am exiled.”
“Wait, what?”
“The decision is out of my hands,” Cypress said. “The council holds a status that not even I can dispute, and given my connection to you, I was only allowed an advisory role. Arche, thank you for your assistance. You have more than proven yourself to us. You are not included in the banishment and may stay in Dawnwood if you wish, but I will not lie to you. Your humanity will not incline anyone in your favor.”
Arche took a few moments to process what was being said.
“Arche, you don’t have to follow me. You’ll be safe in Dawnwood.” Lyssa did not look at him as she spoke. “The elves here will provide for you. In time, you will earn their trust, as you did mine. You can make a home here.”
A home. A place to belong. Surrounded by elves who hated him for what he was. And for it, he would have to abandon the one person who had actually helped him.
“‘No place can guarantee safety, only your own strength and the bonds you make can imply it.’ You taught me that. I haven’t forgotten.” At last, she met his eye. He held it for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Cypress. “Thank you for the offer, but no. Where she goes, I go.”
“I had hoped you would say something to that extent.” Relief showed plain on Cypress’s face. “It is good to know she will have a steadfast companion.”
Lyssa’s face grew guarded but her eyes betrayed an emotion Arche couldn’t identify. Somehow happy, sad, and bereft.
“There’s a fledgling village not far from here. A few days’ walk from the border of Dawnwood. It lies east, in the valley of Mount Hyperion. The village is rudimentary at best but has a mixed populace. I think you would find the best results there. Your experience and your”— Cypress cut his eyes toward Arche—“enthusiasm may make you valuable to them.”
Arche threw up his hands in protest but Lyssa cut him off before he could say something regrettable.
“Thank you. I know you tried your hardest. Will I ever see you again?” Her voice was calm and level, and as perilous as a knife’s edge.
“Not for some time. When word gets out about the council’s decision, these woods will no longer be safe for you. I will do all I can but, as you well know, my influence is dwindling with each passing season. Do not worry for me. Keep a watchful eye about yourself. You are exiled, Lyssa. You know what this means.”
“I understand. We will head to the village.” Lyssa inclined her head, then turned on her heel and walked away.
Arche watched her leave, turned back to Lord Cypress, back to Lyssa, then back to Cypress again.
“Wha…?”
“Lyssa will explain everything when she is ready,” Lord Cypress said. “For now, we should discuss that spear. Set it on the table.”
Arche bit back a sigh and did as he was told.
“Tell me how you found this. Exactly how you found this.”
“It was like Lyssa said. We found our way into the dwarven treasure room, deactivated a trap on the treasure. This was stuck into a pedestal at the very center. I thought it was a staff at first. Lyssa tried to pull it free, then Helwan, but it wouldn’t budge until I touched it. What is it? Every time I try to look at it, it just says the name is redacted.”
“It is an artifact from a time before time, when Tartarus was young and scarcely populated. It is called the Tridory, the spear of three. It was entrusted to a champion in ancient tales, then sealed by those who feared its power. I can tell it is dormant now, but not even I know what may be unleashed if it is to be awakened. To think it rested so close to Dawnwood for all this time is…disturbing.”
“All right. That’s a lot. Should I leave it with you?”
“No!” Lord Cypress’s eyes went wide. “No. In the wrong hands, the dangers could be cataclysmic. I cannot keep it. I would be tempted to use it. I know myself too well. I hold too much anger and grief in my heart to ever trust myself with such power. You found it, you have bonded it. I believe you are meant to have it. Above all, keep it safe from those who would wish to wield it.”
“What can it do?”
“That’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself. I have no further answers.”
Arche picked the spear up. Its weight was still considerable, much more than he felt was comfortable for a weapon.
“You still have no memories of your life before you came to us, do you?”
Arche shook his head.
“No. Try as I might, I’m a blank slate.”
“A hard thing, to start a life over. Harder still when you are so ignorant of the world. I am going to give you something which will make your time easier, because of the deed you have done for my people that I fear I have not adequately rewarded. Treasure it and use it wisely, for the giving of it does not come without cost.”
Lord Cypress crossed to the other side of the table and placed his palm against Arche’s forehead. Arche waited, more than a little uncertain. He didn’t have to wait long.
You have learned a Skill.
Examine — Level 1
Looking at things rarely tells the full story, but your gaze is more piercing than most.
Each level in this skill improves the speed and each rank improves the extent to which you can view another person’s profile. This skill can also be used to examine the properties of objects.
Every 5 levels in this skill improves your Perception by 1.
+2% Examine Speed (+2%)
Arche blinked away the notification and frowned.
“This is how you knew Helwan’s name and those other things, isn’t it?”
Cypress ignored the question.
“Do not speak of this to anyone. Most will be unable to discern your prying gaze but those who become aware of it will likely not respond favorably. Be careful whom you Examine.”
“Thank you, Lord Cypress. This is quite a gift.”
“One more thing, Arche. A word of warning. If you forget all else, remember this.”
“Yes? Erm, lord?”
“Keep my daughter safe.”