Charomera
The 15th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
“You wanted to see me, Archousa?”
Lyssa turned away from telling Theodorous about the centaurs to see Elpida standing at attention nearby. It was early afternoon, well past lunchtime, and it was the first she’d seen of the guardswoman since she’d stormed off.
“Yes. Both of you come with me.”
Lyssa led them from Theodorous’s desk near the entrance of the village hall to Lyssa’s own desk at the back of the building. She was silent during the short walk, thinking only of how she was going to say what needed to be said. Lyssa took her seat behind the desk and waited for the others to be seated in front of her. Before she spoke, she gave a quick, cursory glance around to make sure there were no others within earshot. Satisfied that they were, in fact, alone, she began.
“I want to start by thanking you both for your exceptional services to Myriatos. Without the dedicated work of both of you, I am certain we would be far worse off. However, there are existential threats that require a change.”
Theodorous shifted uncomfortably. Elpida only stared, her face a mask.
“Tartarus is not safe. We all know this, but never have a people been more unsafe than when isolated. We have noncombatants to look after, children to protect and raise, and we do all of this without assistance. The Sylv is full of monsters. Old, powerful, and dark. These trees likely hide creatures that have not been encountered by the mortal races in millennia. Some, even the elves have not catalogued. But all creatures respect one thing: power. Thus, for the continued protection of Myriatos, I cannot confine myself to this hall and this desk.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow your reasoning, Archousa,” Theodorous said carefully.
“I am the highest-level combatant in the village,” Lyssa tilted her chin up. “I am also an elf. This means many things, but it means I have the time to grow truly powerful. Time is, I fear, not on our side. I sense a threat, growing and shaping. One that might go far beyond our humble village. In order to face that threat, I must grow stronger. I must cast aside the careful practices of my people and embrace that which has long empowered the mortal races.”
“I cannot condone you needlessly risking your life,” Elpida interjected. “You are the leader of this village. What kind of example does that set to your people?”
“That their leader will do anything to protect them.” Lyssa’s voice was strong and unyielding. “Do not mistake me. I am not asking for permission, nor am I seeking to hoard power for myself. I have seen horrors in the Sylv, both known and unknown. If a kýklōps breaks through that treeline to make a meal of our people, even combined we could not stop it. If an erinys wings its way out of the sky to make off with our children, I doubt a single one of us has the strength of limb to stop it. If a minotauros crawls out of an undiscovered cave system and decides to gorge itself on our people, who among us could contest it?”
“Arche,” Theodorous said.
Lyssa cut her eyes toward the mousy man and waited a long moment before speaking.
“Perhaps he could. You have both seen the feats he has accomplished, but he is one man and a mortal, at that. You have both born witness to his injuries. For as much as he has accomplished, he has a long path to recovery ahead of him. More importantly, he is not here. We cannot place all of our trust in a single person, not even me. Myriatos will be strong, and I will lead by example. Power I obtain will be power I share.”
“I think you have made your intentions clear, Archousa,” Theodorous said. “What would you have us do?”
“Hire however many hands you need to ensure the administration of the village, Theo,” Lyssa said, her voice softening slightly. “We will meet daily to discuss ongoing events, but I am placing the majority of administration onto your shoulders. Elpida, I want you to take your guard retinue and transform them. I want them to become our elites. Make them warriors, hunters, scouts, and spies. Send them to whoever is best equipped to train them. Have them learn magic if they are able.”
“What of you? Who will protect you?”
“From here on, I provide my own protection,” Lyssa’s voice hardened again. She had to make them understand. “I have lived and hunted for two hundred years without aid. I have made a mockery of myself this last month and wasted the limited supply of our warriors. I will be coddled no more.”
“I don’t like this, Lyssa,” Elpida said. “I don’t know what’s come over you, but this is reckless. If something happens to you, Myriatos is without a leader.”
“Myriatos has many leaders,” Lyssa replied. “You are a leader. Theo is a leader. Gigator and Vik are leaders. Arche, Helwan, and Tess are leaders. Leadership is the one thing Myriatos has no short supply of. I am not special – but I am skilled. I have been neglecting what I should be doing for what I thought needed doing. My abilities do not lie in reading reports and resolving disputes, they are for doing what Tartarus has made of me. I am a Huntress and I will protect my home.”
“And you would disallow me from doing the same?” Elpida spoke through clenched teeth, the only outward sign of emotion.
“On the contrary. I want you to lead your unit. Compete with Arche’s, work for the betterment of the village, not for my protection. I know your reservations on the matter and I understand, but there are more pressing concerns than my safety.”
Elpida stood from her chair. Lyssa held her eyes, daring further objection. The guardswoman rendered a stiff salute and headed for the door.
“May I ask what caused this sudden shift?” Theodorous’s voice was gentle, as if trying to coax an angry animal.
“I have not been true to myself these past weeks, Theo,” Lyssa said, rubbing her eyes in sudden exhaustion. “I have allowed myself to become too distracted with papyruswork. Myriatos doesn’t need an archousa who sits behind a desk. It needs resources, connections, and to claim a stake out of the Sylv. I intend to do something about that. Personally.”
“I understand, Archousa. I will make the necessary adjustments. If I might ask, what are you going to do now?”
Lyssa gave a weary smile.
“I’m going to sleep.”
Finally adjourned to her bedroom, Lyssa let out a quiet yawn and stretched her arms over her head. The bed, completely ignored the previous night, called to her like a neglected lover. She melted into its embrace, burying her face into the soft pillow. Here, in the quiet darkness of her room, she could pretend that the worries of the world were far away and happening to someone else. That they were manageable and could be dealt with in their own time. She had almost slipped into sleep when a scratching noise broke the silence.
At first, Lyssa ignored it, but it was persistent. She lifted her head from the pillow, trying to get a sense of where it was coming from. Something scraped against wood, but it was too quiet to find. A bird, perhaps. With more than a little reluctance, Lyssa got out of bed. Her feet hit the floorboards, louder than intended due to her weariness, and the scraping stopped. Lyssa narrowed her eyes, but a knock on the door interrupted further investigation. She opened it to find Theodorous standing next to one of her guards. The guard was holding himself to attention, but his face was flushed and his breathing was strained. He had clearly run a long way.
“What’s going on?” Lyssa demanded.
“Sorry to interrupt your peace, Archousa, but there’s been an incident at the mine,” Theo reported, turning to the guard.
“Archousa,” the guard gasped. “The emergency beacon at the mine has been lit. They need aid!”
“Theo, escort this man to Gigator. I want ten guardsmen to meet me at the mines as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Archousa!”
“Good work,” she said to the guardsman. “We’ll take it from here.”
The man nodded wearily between breaths. Lyssa did not stay for further conversation. All thoughts of sleep abandoned, she broke unto a run, barreling out of the hall and through the village proper. Heads turned and some called out, but Lyssa ignored them. Agility was her third highest attribute, below Dexterity and Perception, and she used every point of her considerable arsenal to propel herself forward toward the mountain.
After five minutes of sprinting, her Stamina flagged, falling beneath fifteen percent. She slowed her pace, having already made it to the base of the mountain across the meadow. She stole a glance over her shoulder to see the Gigator was leading the guards after her. They were well behind her, however, and even at her reduced pace the distance between them was only growing.
The walk between the mine and the village normally took about two hours, one of which was spent navigating the treacherous slope up the mountain to reach the base camp for the mine. Some effort had gone into developing the path for carts but the work was ongoing and the way was still fraught.
Sweat clung to Lyssa’s clothes, dripped from her brow, and breath tore out of her in great, painful gasps, but she didn’t allow herself to slow further. Instead, she kept her pace, leaping up the mountainside with the skill and grace only an elf could demonstrate. On this new terrain, her Stamina fell quickly, but she forced herself to carry on. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she considered the need for a village apothecary to make restorative potions. That was far down the line of development, however, and they had no facilities that such a trade could make use of.
Lyssa nearly made it to the encampment when she collapsed, body shuddering and heaving with exertion. Her Stamina was dangerously low, dangling beneath five percent, which meant injury or loss of consciousness was a very real possibility. It was only through years of training and discipline that she was able to keep the contents of her stomach from making a surprise appearance. Her legs trembled and refused to carry weight, so she scrabbled with her arms and hands to pull herself up the mountain. Her Stamina regenerated slowly, more slowly than it should have due to the extreme stress, but as the minutes ticked by, she was back up to thirty percent and her legs were once more willing to bear her, so she continued upward. Another five minutes of quick moving and she arrived.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Lyssa heard Grimmolt before she saw him. The dwarf barked orders at the other members of the Sidergrothia clan clamoring to organize themselves. Everywhere, the dwarves armed themselves with huge pickaxes and shouted, practically frothing with rage.
“Grimmolt!” she called out over the din.
Grimmolt spun around and, upon catching sight of her, spat onto the rock next to him and said something in dwarvish.
“You’d best be here to help,” he growled out. “I’ve no time to waste.”
“I am. Guards are on their way. What happened?”
Grimmolt spat again.
“It was a thrice-damned basilisk. Six of my dwarves are trapped behind a cave-in.”
“Have you cleared a way in?”
“Not yet. It’s petrified the stone, it won’t abide our songs. My kin have made a gap but not large enough for us to fit through. Another twenty minutes at least. Time my kin don’t have.”
“Let me try. I’m slimmer than you, I might fit.”
“Don’t be daft, elf. It takes a crew to kill a basilisk. Going in alone is suicide.”
“Not going in is fratricide,” Lyssa retorted. “I know the stories, I accept the risk. Send help as soon as you’re able.”
Grimmolt held her eye for a long moment, then spat a third time and extended his hand.
“I don’t agree with it – but shave my beard if I don’t respect it.”
Lyssa took Grimmolt’s forearm, then turned toward the entrance to the mine. From her inventory, she withdrew a waterskin and took a long pull. Then she checked her equipment. She had her kopides and her bow, but both options were less than ideal. Basilisks had a deadly gaze. If she met the creature’s eye then its inherent magic would wash over her. At best she would be stunned, at worst she would be killed. To make matters more difficult, the creature’s skin was said to be covered in stones from their environment. Being able to find a fleshy part to strike would prove difficult, especially if she was forced to avert her eyes while fighting it.
“I’ll need a mirror,” she said before Grimmolt turned away. “Something reflective.”
“No mirror,” Grimmolt said. “But will this do?”
From his own inventory, he produced a flat shield made from steel. It was smooth and free from decoration, looking fresh and unused.
“I was planning on getting it enchanted, but if it saves my kin, it’s a worthy sacrifice.”
“It should do.” Lyssa placed the shield into her inventory.
Her Stamina regenerated quickly, now that she was no longer actively exerting herself, and had already reached eighty percent. It would have to do. She entered the mine, running down the straight path until she found the cave in and the dwarves working to clear it. A small gap peeked at the top of the rocks, showing through to the other side. From the hole, shrieking hisses and the sounds of metal against stone rang through the space. The echoes of dwarven shouting and hollering filled the air – but that came from both sides of the blockage.
Lyssa didn’t bother trying to get the dwarves’ attention to get them out of the way. She spent all of her focus on the gap, knowing it would be a tight fit. She jumped over two surprised dwarves and jumped again from a rock at the bottom of the pile. This floated her up to the opening where she leaned forward in a dive, arms out in front of her just in case she had misjudged the size and ended up stuck halfway. The rocks scratched at her armor as she passed through but, aside from a slight knock in her trajectory, she made it to the other side.
Lyssa tucked into a roll as she hit the ground and produced the shield by the time she regained her feet. She shut her eyes tight, listening to the noises bouncing off the rock around her as she tried to pinpoint the basilisk’s location. It let out a particularly angry hiss and Lyssa felt that it was farther down the mineshaft.
Still with eyes closed, Lyssa activated Stealth. She hadn’t drawn her weapons, hadn’t planned that far. Her goal was to find the creature and save the dwarves if they were still alive. The ‘how’ was still a work in progress.
Shouting in the tunnel ahead drew her attention, but did not guarantee that they were still alive. There were more than a few creatures in the Sylv that mimicked voices to lure the unsuspecting into traps. Some would take the voice of a loved one, calling you away, while others would let loose bone-chilling screams in the middle of the night to terrorize their prey into fleeing. Knowledge of the basilisk’s deadly stare was common, but Lyssa didn’t know what other tricks the creature might hold. As much as she wanted to move quickly, she couldn’t risk running in and getting killed by errant haste.
Another angry screech echoed off the stone walls, so loud that Lyssa winced with pain. She was getting closer to the source, careful to keep her eyes down to avoid accidentally meeting the creature’s gaze. The clash of metal against stone could be heard, ringing through the mine. Footsteps pounded against the stone in her direction. Lyssa flattened herself against the wall, pulling out a kopis. The shield felt heavy and awkward in her hand, but with luck it would do more to protect her than her small swords. The sound of footsteps reached a crescendo before a dwarf appeared, sprinting around the corner.
“Here,” Lyssa hissed, catching the dwarf by surprise.
He let out a soft yelp and turned toward her. Seeing that she was an elf and not a basilisk, he pressed himself against the wall.
“Archousa,” his voice was low and fervent. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping. How many are left?”
“Two have been turned to stone. Three others fight still. They’re backed into a corner and have formed a shield wall. I was knocked away from them and made a run for it.”
“Is it wounded?”
“No, our weapons are useless against its hide. A pickaxe would be more useful than a blade.”
Lyssa grunted, thinking to herself.
“Is it visible around the corner?”
“It should be. I tried not to look at it.”
“I have an idea, but I’m going to need your cooperation to make it work.”
“Whatever it takes, Archousa. That’s my clan in there.”
Lyssa passed him the shield.
“Hold this out in front of you and keep it as steady as you can.”
The dwarf did as he was told. Lyssa inventoried her sword and pulled out her bow. Then, with a hand upon the shield to guide the dwarf, they stepped together around the passage. Lyssa kept her back to the room, peering into the reflection from the shield. The first sight of the basilisk nearly made her freeze, though the creature had its back to her. It was large, easily seven meters from tail to tongue and three meters high at the shoulder. It crawled on four mighty limbs with a hide of rock covering its back. A long tail swished back and forth in anticipation. As Lyssa watched, the tail swept through the frozen statue of a dwarf, shattering it into rubble.
Lyssa knocked an arrow to her bow and drew it, aiming toward the basilisk but with her head turned the wrong way, fixed on the shield. There were some in Dawnwood who had practiced show-archery, performing incredible tricks for an admiring audience. Some of these had included knocking an arrow out of the sky or shooting at a target while looking through a mirror, much as Lyssa was about to do. She had never joined these attempts, seeing them as frivolous. A part of her wished she had made the effort as the instincts of nearly two centuries of hunting screamed at her to look at her target.
With a considerable effort of will, she quieted her mind, sighted her shot, let out a breath, and loosed an arrow. She had aimed for the center mass of the creature, hoping that its great size would allow her an easy strike to gauge it, but the height difference between herself and the dwarf was greater than she had expected, and the arrow went high. It skittered off the ceiling well before the basilisk, tumbling to the ground with no more threat than a sharp stick. Not pausing for recrimination, Lyssa nocked another arrow and sighted again, making corrections. Less than a second later, another arrow flew toward the basilisk, this time striking against the rocky hide above its tail. Lyssa grimaced as the arrow skittered off to the side. Her arrows lacked the penetration capacity to break through the rocky hide, which was likely magically hardened. That meant she was going to have to be a lot more careful with her shots.
If the basilisk noticed her attack, it didn’t care, intent as it was on getting to the three trapped dwarves. Lyssa readied a third arrow, aiming well below her previous shot. Her heart pulsed at a steady pace, her breathing was slow and rhythmic. At the bottom of her breath, she let the arrow fly. It sailed through the air and sunk into the heel of the basilisk’s left hind leg. It let out a roar and turned around, catching sight of Lyssa and the dwarf for the first time. The face of the creature was long and angry, somewhat resembling a cross between a horse and a lizard. It had a prolonged snout that split in half to reveal huge, flat teeth. Angry yellow eyes focused on Lyssa.
Lyssa stared at the creature through the shield’s reflection for only a moment, then drew out yet another arrow. Her hunch had been correct, thankfully, that the creature could not affect her with its gaze through reflection. The magic it used to hunt required an unimpeded connection. Lyssa drew the bow back as the basilisk charged. As the arrow left her string, she drew another. She had not seen the creature move more than a meter since the battle had begun, and hadn’t expected it to have a strange, loping gallop. Her arrow bounced harmlessly off its shoulder, serving only to enrage it. The ground shook under the force of its weight, threatening her balance, but she swayed with the vibrations, keeping her focus on her work.
The dwarf was not as lucky. He stumbled and the shield dipped as he struggled to regain his footing. As the metal lowered, the dwarf glanced up and saw the basilisk charging toward them. His face twisted into a mask of fear as his eyes flashed yellow, then his body began to change. Stone crawled outward from his eyes, rippling across his face, and moved down the rest of his body until he was nothing more than the stone statue of a dwarf, clutching onto a stone shield.
Lyssa bit back a curse, knowing she didn’t have the time. She had no mirror, now, and still could not look at the creature. Forcing her heart to calm, she drew the bowstring back and closed her eyes. She activated one of her archery maneuvers, figuring that if this was to be her last attack, she may as well try to do all she could with it. Drill Shot greatly increased the penetration of her attack but came at a cost to accuracy. As she couldn’t look at the creature in the first place, the difference didn’t matter. She felt the wood against her hands, pressing against her palm and fingers. Where there should be song from the life in the wood, there was only silence, as there had always been. She attuned herself to the nothing, dropped her aim a centimeter, and let the arrow fly.
A roar of pain met her, so loud and close that Lyssa fell backward, her hands clutching at her ears. The bow clattered to the ground, forgotten, as she screamed, her own voice lost in the noise. Worse even than the underground thunder of Hekáte’s Vivitorium, the sound seemed to catch inside of her. Blood spilled between her fingers as the roar faded into a persistent ringing that drowned all.
Deafened — Tier 6
-100% Hearing
Deafened — Tier 6: 9:59
When more than enough time had passed for the creature to have killed her, Lyssa opened her eyes. The basilisk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the three dwarves who’d been trapped in the corner ran to her. It was difficult to focus on anything with the horrible ringing in her head. Lyssa looked back at the dwarf that had held the shield for her. His face frozen in a caricature of terror. She didn’t even know his name.
Lyssa struggled to her knees. Her hand found her bow and she stored it away in her inventory, but further movement was beyond her. The dwarves reached her next, clearly talking to her by the up-down motion of their mouths, but she couldn’t hear them. The world had gone mad with ringing, which faded into a flat tone. Green blood dripping down her cheeks and spattered the stone. Two of the dwarves grabbed her by the arms and lifted her to her feet. She was as unsteady as a newborn deer. The dwarves were too short to really allow her to throw her weight against them, but her strength returned with each passing moment. They ushered her out of the mine, the way freshly cleared, and back toward the camp.
The dark passage ahead gave way to reveal a circle of shining sunlight, like a lantern placed in a home’s window after a long journey. Lyssa found herself yearning for it, though under the stress and fear of near-death, she found it wasn’t just the light’s embrace she wished for.