Charomera

The 9th of Elaphebolion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

It was the work of ten minutes for Lyssa and Arche to dismember the bodies of all the zombies. Ten minutes to find them all and sever their limbs and heads from their torsos. Arche hadn’t questioned the work. He’d simply followed Lyssa’s lead in the matter. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for, but the job was physical enough that he managed to work out most of his anger. For the moment, at least. When they’d finished, Lyssa explained the purpose.

“They’ve reanimated once. They might have done so again. Should be harder, this way, though not technically impossible. I’d burn them, but I don’t want to attract other predators.”

“We could toss them in the hole,” Arche suggested.

The pit stretched out before him like a wound in the ground itself. Arche peered into it, then shook his head. It was pitch black inside and he could make nothing out. Lyssa, however, was looking very intently over the edge.

“See anything?”

“It’s hard to tell. The ground shimmers, but it’s not too far. Could be water. Could be an illusion.”

“Drop a torch, then.”

Lyssa opened her mouth to respond, then closed it and produced a torch and flint from her inventory. Within moments, the torch was lit and dropped into the hole. They watched as it fell, illuminating earth and rock until the torch hit the bottom with a splash.

“Well, it’s water. How deep is anyone’s guess,” Arche said. “I didn’t see anything at the bottom, did you?”

“Yes, a passageway. It seems we’ll have to go down.”

“And the bodies?”

“Into the deep.”

Arche looked at the pile of decaying corpses and shuddered. He grabbed hold of a severed leg by the shoe, then dropped it over the edge, listening to the splash below.

“Remind me to get some gloves at some point, would you?”

“I’ll do that.”

By the time they’d finished, all of Arche’s anger had been replaced by disgust. He wiped his hands against the grass and fallen leaves, shuddering all the while. Lyssa stood over the hole, gazing into it with her head cocked to the side.

“Now, how to get down there,” she muttered.

Arche took a quick look into his inventory.

“I’ve got thirty whatever of rope. I’m thinking we knot it, tie it to a tree, and throw it down. That way we have an exit strategy.”

Lyssa paused. “Meters.”

“What?”

“You have thirty meters of rope.”

“What the fuck is a meter?”

Lyssa held up her hands, palms facing each other, then sighed at his look of noncomprehension. “It should be enough.”

Arche pulled the rope out of his inventory and knotted it. He passed one end of it to Lyssa, who began tying it around a nearby tree. Arche used his wingspan to measure out intervals and tied a knot at each point, then tossed the remainder into the hole. A splash echoed back at them.

“You said undead hate fire, right?” Arche asked as Lyssa rejoined him.

“Usually. It depends.” She shrugged. “Some don’t care at all; others detest it at a primal level. Depends on the kind of undead.”

“Cool, ‘cause I’m going to need a torch down there. I can barely see as it is.”

Lyssa’s mouth turned down at the corners, her brow furrowing. “Stealth won’t be an option.”

“Then let’s hope no one down there is meaner than us.” Arche grabbed one end of the rope and lowered himself into the hole.

The climb wasn’t difficult aside from the fact he couldn’t see below him. After a minute, his right foot dipped into the water. He snatched it back, cursing as he felt it seep into his boot.

“Where’s the ledge? I can’t see it.”

“To your right.” Lyssa’s voice came from above. “You should be able to reach it.”

Arche kicked out to the right, using his weight to swing the rope. He stretched out his foot as far as he could and felt the hard, flat surface of the platform. He shoved off the wall again, this time able to catch the ledge with his foot and drag himself over onto solid ground. Finally able to stand, he retrieved a torch from his inventory and lit it by striking a wedge of flint with a knife. The flame crackled and sparked, casting eerie shadows around him. The passageway ahead of him was hewn from grey stone, leaving behind the disturbed earth of the hole in the ground, and disappeared into darkness beyond the light of his torch.

Lyssa landed next to him, quiet as ever with bow in hand. She cocked her head, her long ears twitching. Arche kept quiet, trying not to distract her. After a few moments she nodded.

“I don’t hear anything. If something is waiting for us, it isn’t moving.”

“Great.” Arche drew his sword, holding the torch in his left hand. “Let’s go find whatever necromantic sonovabitch desecrated this area.”

Lyssa said nothing so he headed down the passage, torch extended to banish the gloom. The way dipped downward slightly, almost unnoticed, except for the rising chill in the air. They continued for half an hour before Arche stopped. Lyssa stopped behind him, glancing about for hidden dangers.

“What is it?” she hissed.

Arche didn’t respond immediately, kneeling to look at the ground in front of them. At cursory glance it looked the same as the other stone they’d been walking on, but a tiny section stuck up a little more than the rest, less than a finger’s breadth. If he hadn’t been looking at his feet, wondering when perhaps they were going to break for food, he might have missed it. As Arche squinted at the stone, he saw a symbol etched into it. It was extraordinary work, full of billowing lines that blossomed upward. The air around it was odd, slightly heavy.

“I don’t know, but I don’t trust it. What do you make of it?”

Lyssa followed his gesture to the symbol and hissed again, this time without words.

“Traps. That’s the rune for fire. Whatever you do, don’t step on it.”

“The rune for fire, huh?” he looked back at the stone, trying to commit the design to memory. “Well, that’s just typical.”

“What is?” Lyssa asked.

“My first encounter with magic and it’s a trap that could have killed me.”

“Don’t touch it. I don’t have the skill to disarm something like that and I don’t have the supplies to treat the injuries it would cause.”

Arche nodded and, in an exaggerated motion, stepped over the trap. Lyssa did the same, taking great care to ensure that no part of her came remotely close to interacting with the marked stone.

You have learned a Skill.

Investigation — Level 1

The act of searching is a trainable skill. The act of finding is something else entirely.

Each level in this skill improves your ability to find hidden objects and areas.

Every 5 levels in this skill improves your Intelligence and Perception by 1.

+1% Chance to Spot Hidden Things (+1%)

+1% Chance to Spot Traps (+1%)

+1% Speed of Searching (+1%)

As they continued forward, Arche kept a watchful eye on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, looking for more traps that could kill or maim them. In total, he’d found a pressure stone, a tripwire, and a pitfall trap, and that was after only an hour of walking. There was enough hidden danger along the path to get his new skill to level two. There were more dangers that Lyssa pointed out to him, her skill in the matter clearly much higher than his, also aided by her ability to see better.

The passage wound in strange directions as they walked. It was full of sharp turns and often doubled back on itself, but all the while it led them deeper and deeper underground. It was impossible to tell the time. Late, judging by the weight behind his eyes. Arche was about to suggest they stop and rest for the evening when Lyssa stiffened next to him. He alerted immediately, heart drumming as he looked round for danger. Would it be shambling dead? Flashing blades? The necromancer?

“I hear something,” Lyssa whispered.

“A threat?”

“I don’t know. Voices. I can’t tell what they’re saying, it’s echoing.”

“Do undead speak?”

“Only the powerful ones.”

“Shit. Should I douse the light?”

“Not yet. They are still far away. The echoes are quiet.”

They continued forward much more slowly. Lyssa, as usual, had no issue being completely silent, but Arche’s every step seemed to scrape no matter how lightly he tread. Lyssa moved in front of him. Though her face betrayed no emotion as she passed, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was cursing him for the noise he was making. He was doing his best to obscure the light being thrown by the torch while still casting enough before him to see where he was going. They traveled another hundred paces or so before Lyssa stopped again.

“They’re getting louder,” she whispered.

“What are they saying?”

“They are speaking Arachnean.”

“They what?”

“The language of the spiders. Whatever we are about to find, it will not be friendly. Be prepared to fight.”

Arche paused and adjusted his grip on his sword.

“Did you just say ‘spiders?’” His flesh crawled at the word.

“Yes. The children of Arachne. They are rife wherever it is dark. We seem to be far enough underground that her more intelligent descendants have taken up residence. This is troubling.”

“What kind of spiders are we talking about, here?”

“Scared, Greenstick?”

“I’m just not super fond of creepy crawlies, apparently. What kind?”

“The giant kind.”

“Now, why does that make me feel worse?”

“Pull yourself together, Arche, it’s just another enemy.”

“Right. Just another enormous, creepy, eight-legged-and-eyed monster. Which we will fight. With only a torch keeping us from complete and total darkness. Deep underground. With hundreds of tons of rock above our heads. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you really picking now to have compromising thoughts?”

“It’s never not a good time to be contemplating your imminent demise at the hands of monsters.”

Lyssa rolled her eyes and nocked an arrow to her bow. Arche took several deep breaths and thumped his chest a few times, trying to pull himself together. Just another monster, he could do this. He’d fought undead, this couldn’t be worse, right?

Lyssa raised an eyebrow at him but he ignored her as they crept along the passage. More and more web strands hung from the walls and ceiling until spiderwebs blocked their way entirely. As they approached, Arche was able to hear the voices as well. They spoke in chitters and clacks that were wholly unnerving.

He glanced at Lyssa. Her face was a stoic mask of determination. If he could feel half as confident and fierce as she looked, he could have taken on every zombie outside single-handed. Instead, he would have to settle for the churning bundle of nerves strangling themselves in the basin of his stomach.

Arche touched his torch to the webs in front of them, which lit up in a blazing conflagration. The voices on the other side hissed and shrieked. The webs burned quickly, taking only moments to completely shrivel away into a melted, white goop. Arche moved past the smoldering webs, his sword brandished in front of him, and found himself in a large room coated with webbing.

Inside were three enormous, black, spider-like creatures. They had massive thoraxes with eight spindly legs, but where a head should be was instead the torso of a humanoid woman clad in leathery spider chitin, creating a natural protection. Their flesh was as gray as stone, nearly fading into the walls around them in the light from the torch. Each had two human arms in addition to all the spider legs and wielded spears twice Arche’s height.

Most unsettling of all, however, were their faces. Each had eight beady, solid-black eyes, and all of them had turned toward Arche. Below the horror of their eyes, large spider mandibles clacked in front of mouths that would be human, if they weren’t full of needle-like teeth. Arche didn’t pause as he entered, as much as he would have liked to. The sheer horror of the creatures in front of him spurred his body into action and he waved his torch to fend them off, despite the fact they were ten paces away.

“Sisters,” one of the creatures spat in a hissing, chittering voice that made Arche shiver. “Dinner has arrived.”

Hearing the common tongue through their nightmarish mouths only made Arche want to set them on fire even more. The other two chittered and screeched, the high-pitched sounds reverberating off the walls as they advanced. Lyssa’s arrow sank into one of the spider-women’s legs, which was as thick as a young tree and covered in small, sharp spines, perfect for tearing.

“Arachtaurs,” Lyssa spat, drawing her bow back again. “Be wary of their venom, they can inject it through their legs as well.”

Arche waved his torch in front of himself in broad strokes, trying desperately to scare back the slowly advancing creatures, all the while keeping his sword high and ready. Over his shoulder, Lyssa used him for cover as she methodically targeted joints and exposed flesh.

“Help! Help me!” a frightened voice called from behind a mass of webs on the other side of the room.

One of the arachtaurs charged, forcing Arche and Lyssa to dive out of the way. They hit the ground in opposite directions. Arche’s torch clattered across the floor, coming to a stop in a pile of webbing. A bright flash nearly blinded him as the whole mess went up in flames. He brought his sword up to deflect a spear thrust that nearly skewered him, then scrambled to his feet, his heart thumping painfully. Arche tried to close the distance, which would hopefully reduce the effectiveness of the spear, but the arachtaur reared and he found himself with two razor-sharp spider legs flying toward him from opposite directions.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Arche hit the ground once more and rolled to the side. As he rose, he brought his sword up and braced it against his left forearm to block an incoming swipe of the spear. The force of the blow crushed his arm against him and his breath came out in a rush as he was sent flying. His fall was broken by a mass of webs. The brief pause let him see the rest of the room.

Half of it was on fire.

Lyssa had abandoned her bow in favor of dual wielding her curved shortswords, which she called kopides. She flowed between dodging and attacking, masterfully engaging two of the arachtaurs in close combat. Arche’s own arachtaur charged him, spear aimed for his heart.

Arche wrenched himself from the webs, limp from the heat of the room, and spun to the side. He avoided being turned into paste against the wall but the spear cut into his left shoulder, punching through the edge of his leather jerkin. He clenched his teeth through the pain and slashed at one of the arachtaur’s legs. The blade cut deep but caught in the joint. Arche wrenched the sword as the arachtaur recoiled, ripping it free. The arachtaur let out a screech and stumbled forward as her leg detached. Arche jumped forward as the arachtaur’s human half hit the ground. He landed on her back and plunged his sword into her chitin with a crunch. The arachtaur let out another scream, this one far shriller as it bucked wildly. Arche lost his grip and was thrown free, his sword still embedded. He landed hard, tumbling across the stone floor.

The arachtaur laid on the ground, groaning and trying to stand as its spider-blood spilled across the floor. The other two arachtaurs, upon seeing their sister, roared in anger and turned their attention to Arche.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, scrambling to pull his sword free.

The sword was stuck fast and the writhing of the arachtaur forced him backwards. Weaponless, he could do nothing only watch as both arachtaurs lunged for him. They seemed to move in slow-motion, spears flashing and fangs bared. At any moment, they would tear him into pieces.

Then Lyssa was there.

Her blades spun as she took full advantage of the arachtaurs’ distraction. In a flash, she severed one’s arm. As the creature recoiled, she stabbed its midsection at the connection of spider and woman. Black blood sprayed and hissed among the flames.

The other arachtaur did not waver as its sister died, the spear in its hands was pointed unwaveringly toward Arche’s chest. He tried to move, but his foot was caught deep in webbing and twisted at a bad angle. The spear tore into his side, barely slowed by his leather armor. The force of the impact, with the arachtaur’s full weight behind it, ripped him out of the webs, bore him backwards, and slammed him into the wall.

Arche gasped.

Blood poured from his side, splashing against the webs covering the floor. He looked down at the spear, unable to comprehend what had happened. For a single moment, he felt nothing but pressure, then the pain came. It burned into him. Everything else was driven away. His vision went dark around the edges, his Health flashing dangerously low. The arachtaur leaned forward and hissed at him, but he was only dimly aware of her. Her mandibles clacked, ready to sink into his flesh. One bite and he would be dead.

Lyssa appeared, soaring up behind the arachtaur like a hero from legend. She severed the creature’s head with a single stroke of her sword, letting it topple to the ground at Arche’s feet. The body of the arachtaur collapsed and Arche let out a gurgle. He’d been saved from a quick death, but a slow one was still likely. Lyssa was at his side in an instant. She, too, was bathed in blood, but it was the black blood of the arachtaurs.

She gripped the spear and carefully pulled it free, then placed both hands over the wound. Arche slid to the floor, his own hands weakly grasping his wound. Lyssa spoke in a low voice, saying something in Elvish. Darkness crept over more of his vision and all sensation began to slip away. He looked up, barely able to make out Lyssa’s face.

If it was going to be the last thing he saw, he was all right with that.

You have slain a Level 17 Arachtaur.

You gain 425 experience.

Slayer of the Mighty activated!

You gain 1,000 bonus experience.

Lyssanderyli has slain two Arachtaurs.

You gain 425 experience.

You have reached Level 10.

As a Human, you receive 5 attribute points to distribute per level.

You currently have 15 undistributed attribute points.

More notifications flashed, indicating skill increases, but remained minimized. A golden glow surrounded him, washing over him three times. It flooded his muscles with strength and concentrated at the wound in his side, knitting his broken flesh back together. Arche gasped as the light turned inward, reattaching split organs and shoving everything back where it was supposed to be. Lyssa breathed a sigh in relief, then hit him in the arm.

Hard.

Arche winced as his Health dropped a few points.

“Fool! Were you trying to get yourself killed? I told you to stay close to me.”

“My bad,” Arche gasped. “Damn, that hurt.”

“You have to be more careful. You’re still low-leveled, so you can reliably expect to level up after a hard fight, but soon you won’t be able to rely on that to save you. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m not trying to make a habit of it. Are you all right?” Arche gestured toward the blood covering her.

She sighed, physically relaxing somewhat. “Nothing serious. I’ve yet to go through my prompts, but I leveled after the first one died.”

“What level are you, anyway?”

Lyssa hesitated, her face twisting before she answered.

“Twenty-nine.”

Arche’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by another voice.

“Hello? Is somebody out there? Help me!”

The sound came muffled from one of the corners of the room. Arche pushed his way to his feet and pulled his xiphos free from the dead arachtaur. Much of the webbing in the room had melted, but the torch still burned where it had been dropped. Arche retrieved it as well, holding both it and the sword aloft.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

They moved together toward the mess of webs at the far end of the room. Arche led the way, torch out in front of him, while Lyssa was close behind with bow nocked. As they approached the mass of webs, Arche realized they were covering a door. Someone on the other end seemed to be banging on it but the mass of webbing held it shut. He locked eyes with Lyssa, who shrugged.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

The knocking stopped.

“Hello? Are you here to help me?”

“Help who?”

“Helwan is my name, good sir. I’ve been trapped in here for some time. If you would be so kind as to let me out?”

Arche locked eyes with Lyssa again, who nodded. Arche touched the torch to the web and turned away from the flash of heat. The flames quickly ate through the layers of webbing, revealing a thick metal door. The latch on the door lifted and swung open toward them, revealing a short creature, only a little taller than Arche’s waist.

It appeared to be a man but many of its features were animalistic. The creature who called himself Helwan had large, brown, furry ears that were slightly conical, like a horse. His legs were hairy and his feet cloven goat-hooves. A small, horse-like tail, carefully braided, trailed behind him. He also wore a waistcoat that might have been colorful at one point but had long since been darkened by the grime of travel and adventure. His face was human, mostly, and sported a dark brown goatee that matched his hair, out of which grew two gently curling horns. Most off-putting of all, however, were his eyes. Large, rectangular pupils gave the short creature a wholly alien feel.

Lyssa spat in disgust.

“Satyr.”

Arche looked back at her questioningly, only to find she was staring at the goat-horse-man with absolute derision, bordering on open hatred. Helwan, on the other hand, had a look of astonishment and adoration upon the satyr’s face. Helwan stepped forward, kneeling with a hand on his chest, completely ignoring Arche.

“My lady, I am Helwan Panysk. Musician, mage, and megaloscholar. It is my utmost pleasure to have met you.”

He reached for Lyssa’s hand, presumably to kiss it. Lyssa drew her bow and placed the tip of the arrow against the satyr’s forehead.

“Allow me to make something very clear to you, satyr. You touch me and you die. Is that understood?”

Some of Helwan’s timidity returned as Lyssa’s razor-sharp arrow pricked his forehead, drawing a small bead of blood.

“Y-yes, understood very well, my lady!”

Arche threw up his hands in confusion, still holding the torch and sword.

“What the fuck?”

“Perverts of the forest,” Lyssa spat. “The sooner this one is out of our company, the better it will be. Better yet, I’ll kill him now and save us both the trouble.”

“I mean no offense, dear lady. I merely wanted to show you the depths of my gratitude for saving me from those fearful monsters.”

“Keep your depths to yourself, goat.”

“Whoa!” Arche interjected, moving to place himself somewhat between the two of them. “Let’s all just settle down and remember why we’re here in the first place.”

He paused, then looked at Helwan.

“Why are you here?”

Helwan hesitated, then produced a scrap of parchment from his inventory.

“I discovered this map hidden within the forgotten stacks of the Lyceum Apokryfos library, marking a hidden path to this site, deep below the surface. As a megaloscholar, I could not pass up the opportunity to explore a potentially great historic find. If I could be the first to write about it, why, I could have my name lauded about the great academic halls. Who knows what secrets or magics could be found here?”

“And you didn’t expect to find monsters?”

“Ah,” the satyr looked sheepish. “I did. I had hired an adventuring group to protect me. They, uh, they were not quite up to the task, and I locked myself away in this room for safety. When the fighting was over, the group was gone and I found myself trapped. I can only presume they are dead or fled.”

Arche paused, looked at Lyssa, then looked back at Helwan.

“How many were there?”

“Oh, perhaps a dozen in total.”

“Well, that explains the zombies we found.”

Helwan blinked in surprise.

“Zombies? They turned into zombies?”

“Yeah, pretty fast ones, too. What kind of mage did you say you were?”

“Oh, well, ah, you see, I’m more of a historian, really, but I have an interest in a large display of magical arts, histories, artifacts. I’ve been trained in gaiamancy and phosphomancy but can’t say that I’m especially gifted in either approach.”

“What about necromancy?”

“I have studied a little bit of it, but only academically. It’s a foul branch of magic and my curiosity was only that of the very young and foolhardy. Once I learned how terrible it actually was, I swore away all study of it.” Helwan cringed away at the admission, as if ashamed.

Arche glanced at Lyssa to gauge her reaction. It had changed, ever so slightly, from disgust to revulsion.

“All right, all right,” he said, sheathing his sword and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just calm down, everybody, and talk this through. Helwan, why don’t you tell us exactly what you’re doing here and what happened to you.”

“I, erm, I already told you. I found this map and wanted to write–”

“I may be younger than I look, Helwan, but I don’t believe you would pay for twelve armed and capable individuals to accompany you on an extremely dangerous academic pursuit just to write a paper. You’re looking for something. What is it? From the beginning.”

Helwan glanced back and forth between Arche and Lyssa. His strange, rectangular pupils bouncing. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“This may take some time; it would be best if everyone made themselves comfortable. Your torch, sir, looks to be running low. Perhaps you would be inclined to use my light?”

The satyr produced a lantern from his inventory. Inside the lantern was a glowing orange orb that, upon a cursory glance, could have been firelight, but did not flicker or waver as the lantern moved about. It was also much more effective than Arche’s torch, illuminating the entire room in steady light.

“What is that?” Arche asked, looking at the lantern intently.

“This is an Everlit Lantern. A larger, less expensive version of an Everlit Locket. Both are made by my employer, Bits and Baubles Enterprises.”

Helwan paused, evidently expecting some kind of reaction out of Arche and Lyssa. They stared at him blank-faced until he coughed and continued.

“Yes, well, Bits and Baubles is a manufactory and repository of enchanted items but they also send teams out for the collection of rare magical artifacts.”

“I imagine there’s a lot of money in that,” Arche said.

“Indeed. Now, I discovered the map to this place like I said. There was a riddle in old dwarvish about a collapsed mine with a great treasure and great danger hidden away below. As I’m sure you both know, the only thing dwarves value more than their precious metals is magic. So I took it upon myself to come and retrieve the artifact and present it to my employer, Lady Rune Oyl.”

“Hang on,” Arche said, raising a hand. “You weren’t even tasked by your boss to come here? You just decided you were going to follow some ancient riddle and map to a place you knew nothing about, on the off chance that it had magical treasure that you could then bring back to maybe get a promotion from your boss?”

“That’s quite reductive but is the general gist of things, yes.”

“I’m almost impressed. That explains why you came here, but not what’s happened since.”

Helwan’s face fell.

“Yes. We found the entrance; I imagine you found it too. A large, excavated hole in the ground, pool at the bottom. Anyway, we made our way along it until we came to this room. Here, we were set upon by the three arachtaurs you were so kind to take care of for me. They fought my companions while I fled and hid in that room. I conjured an illusion to throw the arachtaurs off my trail, but I was trapped when they put a fresh coating of web in the room. I was there for five days, surviving on the rations I brought with me. I tried a few spells to release myself from that room, but nothing worked. Furthermore, I must have made too much noise because they started screeching and talking to one another right outside my door. If you two had not shown when you did, I would be dead. For that, you both have my everlasting gratitude.”

Helwan bowed low, the gesture made awkward as he was still sitting.

“May I ask the names of my rescuers?”

“I’m Arche, this is Lyssa.”

“It is my honor to have made your acquaintances.”

Arche turned to Lyssa.

“What do you think? Is he telling the truth?”

She scowled. For several long moments, Arche thought she was going to kill the satyr and be done with it, then she lowered her bow.

“There is some truth, at least, to his words. As much as it pains me to admit it, a mage will be useful as we continue.”

“Most excellent!” Helwan exclaimed. “You shall not regret the addition of my company, I guarantee it!”

“I already regret the addition of your company, satyr. You should know that I do not intend to allow powerful artifacts to fall into your possession, regardless of your spun tales.”

Helwan deflated slightly. “I understand. My apologies for earlier, Lady Lyssa. I am not ignorant of the reputation my kind have throughout Tartarus. However, I hope that the common notions of my heritage do not sully all your thoughts of me. I can hardly make up for the sins of my forebears, but I can, perhaps, do some good here.”

Arche was reminded of Lord Cypress and the similar argument that saved his own life from execution.

“As for the artifact, my oversight at Bits and Baubles is not one that would be forgiven lightly, even if I had presented the item. Reputation means much to Lady Oyl and I didn’t exactly go through proper channels to procure travel here. To that extent, I have no great impetus to claim the item for myself. All I ask is that I might be allowed to study it. I have a few identification spells in my repertoire that may prove useful.”

“A word, Arche?” Lyssa asked.

Arche stood and they walked to the other side of the room, farther than what Arche thought was necessary but, then again, he didn’t know how good a satyr’s hearing was.

“I don’t trust him,” Lyssa said.

“You said yourself that he was telling the truth.”

“I said there was some truth to what he said. That’s not to say he won’t abandon us or actively work against us if we travel together.”

“It’s a risk, certainly. But think of the potential benefits of having a magic wielder down here. We faced three arachtaurs that have already killed a dozen adventurers. They nearly killed me and certainly would have, had it not been for you. You’ve saved me several times already. What if you need saving next time and I’m not enough? It might help to have some magic in our corner.”

Lyssa shifted her weight, folding her arms in front of her.

“I don’t like the idea of traveling with a satyr.”

“You’ve said similar things about traveling with a human. What’s the matter with satyrs? You called them perverts of the forest. What is this about?”

She grimaced.

“They’re sexual predators, generally speaking. Ancient tales across Tartarus speak of satyrs that would chase women through the forests. Humans, elves, dryads. It didn’t matter what they were. If they caught the women…” Lyssa trailed off, clenching and unclenching her fists.

Arche was at a loss.

“I…I don’t know what to say. That’s disgusting beyond words.”

“It’s unforgivable. In my village, our women are warned about satyrs. Our histories are full of their monstrous actions. They are one of the many reasons our women are taught to fight. In centuries past, they would be shot on sight for trespassing into our territories. Tartarus has changed since then, but elven memory runs deep. He,”—she pointed at Helwan—“is from the city. There is nothing of a forest satyr about him. For a satyr to live in the city and not have been killed or imprisoned, he must have overcome his nature. I do not know what kind of people reside in these cities, but I doubt even they would tolerate those kinds of actions. Still, the idea of traveling with a satyr? Sleeping near one? I’d rather kill him now and be done with it.”

“I can’t condone killing him, but it’s your choice whether or not he joins us. This is your quest, after all.”

Lyssa nodded, her eyes full of indecision. They stood in silence for several moments, then she shook her head.

“If he was hired by a woman, that speaks enough to his character. Fine. But please, keep an eye on him.”

“Of course.”

They returned to see Helwan was in the process of cleaning a pan flute.

“You’re not planning on playing that right now, are you?” Arche asked.

“What? Oh, no! No, I think the quieter we are the better. I just like to occupy my hands. Helps calm me down.”

“We have decided to allow you to join us,” Lyssa said. “On the condition that you do as we tell you. Know that I do not trust you and if you do anything to suggest you are working against us, I will kill you without hesitation. If you have been honest with us, we will consider allowing you to study whatever artifacts we come across, but do not give you the right to keep such items. Do you understand and agree to these terms?”

Helwan scrambled to his feet in order to bow properly.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, I do.”

A notification appeared in Arche’s vision.

Helwan Panysk has agreed to join your Adventuring Party.

“Good. Now that we have that settled, we can set up camp for the night.”