Hermera
The 18th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
Arche was thoroughly annoyed. He had wandered through the bookshelves, idly glancing at the titles, for over three hours. Most of the books were written in strange languages and even the ones he did know were either too specific to make sense or too vague to be interesting. He had little interest, for example, in the Effects of Selene and Agrotera on the Mating Habits of Persesian Brown Bears. He had hoped for a book on magic but there was no such luck. The filing system was insane. Any book containing any material by any author could be next to one another on a shelf. It was maddening to the point Arche had to assume it was intentional.
“What do you want from me?” he called out, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
He didn’t expect an answer. No answer had come the previous thirty times he’d called out but he was extraordinarily bored and starting to get hungry.
“Well, well. It seems there is a fly caught in the honeypot. How unfortunate.”
A woman’s voice sounded from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was mature, almost sultry, and entirely predatory. Arche tensed. He removed the Tridory’s cover, revealing the spear’s point as he moved in a slow circle, keeping his eyes on the balconies above for signs of anyone else. There was nobody there.
“A thief. A murderer, too. Where did you come across such an item?”
“A dungeon in the middle of fucking nowhere. Let me out of this stupid maze.”
“Many in this city would sell their fortunes for the chance to wander unfettered among these books. Only a fool would have no appreciation for the treasure in front of him.”
“Maybe you should get more interesting books.”
A noise behind him made him jump and whirl. One of the shelves had shifted, revealing a tunnel of books. Arche took a hesitant step toward it, wondering how the books on the ceiling stayed in place. After two dozen steps, the mouth of the tunnel closed and he was left with no other path than forward. The tunnel twisted and turned, leading him in strange directions and changes in gradient. Then, the tunnel began to grow smaller until Arche was forced to crouch. Then crawl. Then squeeze.
After nearly getting stuck, he finally emerged into a circular room. It was surprisingly cozy, with a large, crackling fireplace set into an empty shelf. Books lined the walls, and the ceiling was painted—or, perhaps, enchanted—to mimic the stars. Two leather chairs clad with blankets sat on either side of the fireplace, which was the primary source of light for the room. The secondary source of light came from soft yellow globes connected to the chairs.
“Your reading room, I take it?” he asked aloud.
There was no one else in the room but that didn’t mean he was alone.
“Do you enjoy it? Or are you already trying to decide which books here look the most expensive?”
“Look, lady, I don’t know what you’ve got against me, but I’m not here for your books. I actually came to talk to you, but if this is the treatment you give all your customers, consider me unimpressed. What’d you do with the girl?”
“The girl is fine. She enjoys the maze for its intended purpose. You, on the other hand, are no customer.”
Arche slammed the Tridory’s sauroter into the floor, wedging it into the wood.
“If you’re such a fucking expert on me then why don’t you come and enlighten me.”
There was the faintest scuff of a shoe against wood next to him. Arche spun, but no one was there. Something heavy hit his chest and he stumbled backward. A figure came into view, materializing in the shadow like they’d been there the entire time. They were dressed in all black and their face was obscured by a mask of fabric that only left their eyes visible but Arche had the distinct sense that this was the woman he’d been speaking to. He put his fists up.
“You want to fight? Let’s fight.”
The woman cocked her head, then mimicked his stance.
“You want to learn?” she asked. “Lesson one: pain.”
Arche stepped forward and threw a jab. It was exploratory, meant to test her response, and the woman didn’t consider it for a moment. She stepped forward as well, bending around the punch, and slammed an open hand into his chest. At the same time, her leg kicked his inner thigh, forcing his stance wider and leaving a stinging pain. Before her leg had touched the ground again, she planted her foot on his chest and shoved him back. All this before he was even able to pull his jab back.
Arche tumbled to the ground and rolled. He grunted as he got to his feet and Examined her.
?
Examine was officially on his shitlist.
Arche raised his fists again, but the woman made no move toward him. Instead, she watched him. She was faster, clearly, but the difference was not insurmountable. He had made the mistake of trying to gauge her, he needed to engage her. Commit to his actions.
He attacked with a snapping front kick, which the woman easily rebuffed with her forearms. She was strong, but not quite as strong as he was. He followed with a low roundhouse, hoping to catch her leg and slow her down, but she turned into the kick, raising her knee against his shin. Pain bloomed along his leg and his toes tingled like they’d been jabbed with pins. Still, he pressed the attack. He brought his newly hurt leg behind him and stood southpaw. The woman stood before him with arms half bent and held in front of her, palms open. Arche feinted another jab and turned it into an elbow, hoping to catch the woman off-guard if she tried to sway around it like she’d done before, but this time she blocked it using her own elbow. He followed it up with a quick combination intended to pepper her torso and face, but she redirected each strike with infuriating precision.
Hoping to take her by surprise, he tried to stomp on her foot. She picked hers up and kicked him in the jaw. Arche flailed back, grabbing for her leg as he fell, but it was already out of reach again. His head cracked against the wooden floorboards and dark spots appeared in his vision. He lay there, stunned. The exchange had cost him twenty percent of his Health.
“You called me a murderer,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet again. “Care to explain that one?”
“You wield the Tridory and you reek of death.”
“You don’t smell so great yourself, unless that’s my blood I’m smelling.” He snorted and a glob of snotty red hit the floor. “Yep, definitely my blood.”
Arche pulled a blanket from one of the chairs and flung it at the woman, hoping to distract her. As soon as he was obscured behind it, he went low, trying to sweep her legs out from beneath her. He never made contact, but the blanket somehow reversed trajectory and surrounded him. Something crashed into his side and he felt a rib crack as he was knocked into a shelf. Books tumbled to the floor in a heap of paper. He tore the blanket away in time to catch the woman’s shin with his face.
“You pretend yourself a kind man, but there is a monster beneath it all. One given a longer and longer chain with each life you’ve taken, waiting to strangle your last pretense. Show me your monster and I will do all of Tartarus a favor by slaying you both.”
The fire flashed and deepened, the flames growing from orange to a deep red. The whole room was bathed in crimson as Arche felt his anger rise. He longed to use his Divine Body, to tear her apart, but he was still all too aware of the consequences. He was far from dead, despite a cracked rib, and the damage caused by using the skill was too great a risk.
It wasn’t the only trick up his sleeve, after all.
Arche grabbed a handful of books off the floor and threw them. Not at the woman, but at the fireplace. The woman let out a surprised gasp and lunged forward. Taking advantage of the distraction, Arche grabbed hold of her wrist as she passed and pulled, knocking her off balance as he sank his fist into her face. Before he could land another strike, she twisted in his grasp. Her arm tore free from his fingers and then her hands were around his own. Before Arche could push her away, she maneuvered around him and pinned his arm behind his back. A strike to the back of his leg forced him down to a kneeling position as she applied a painful torque to his wrist, elbow, and shoulder simultaneously.
The pressure amplified but Arche refused to submit. He struggled against her grasp, trying to worm his way out, but it was no good. Keeping his arm in place, the woman set her foot on the back of his neck and forced his head into the ground.
“Any final words, murderer?”
The pressure on his neck eased slightly, giving him a moment to breathe. Arche took a moment to center himself, then did something desperate. He pushed back against the pressure on his arm. It snapped in two places and he didn’t bother trying to suppress the scream that followed, but he didn’t stop. The woman recoiled in surprise and disgust, her grip loosening. Arche rolled away and came to his feet, clutching his broken limb, which hung a little too low and faced the wrong direction.
The woman raised her hands and crouched, ready for more, but Arche just grimaced and leaned against a bookshelf. He raised his good hand in a sign of supplication.
“Can we just talk for a minute first? I’m very confused right now and if I’m going to go through the trouble of dying again, I’d at least like to know what for.”
The woman hesitated, her eyes squinting and distrustful, but she lowered her hands and straightened. Arche inclined his head, taking the time to check his vitals. He was sitting at sixty percent Health, which wasn’t a comfortable place to be. She was devastating with her attacks and he had no doubt that if he had not gotten free from her grip, she would have broken his neck as well as his arm.
“Speak.”
The word was suffused with magic. It echoed around the room but, as it washed over Arche, he felt strangely unaffected.
“You got my arm pretty good. I’m going to need a minute.”
The woman cocked her head, as if considering him, then produced something from her inventory and tossed it to him. Arche caught it with his good hand out of reflex and looked at it. It was a small vial with a purple tincture inside.
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“Poison?”
“Hardly.”
Narrowing his eyes, he Examined the vial, ready to give the skill up forever if it failed him again.
Vial of Numbing
Rarity: Uncommon
Potency: Excellent
Durability: 3 / 3
Weight: 0.3 kilograms
Effect: This numbing agent acts as a general anesthetic. Consuming it reduces pain by 68% for one hour. -15 Dexterity for the duration.
Arche opened the popper and poured the vial into his mouth. There was a faint aftertaste of cloves and he was surprised at how pleasant it was. He tossed the vial back.
“Thanks.”
The woman didn’t respond, but she did catch the vial and make it vanish away to her inventory.
“I’m to assume you work for Rune Oyl, then?”
The woman gave a single nod.
“May I know your name?”
“No.”
“Fair enough. Why did you call me a murderer?”
“Because you are.”
Arche sighed. The numbing agent had just started to kick in, thankfully, so he was no longer in crippling pain to go with a poor conversation.
“Let’s skip the back and forth where I insist I’m not and you insist I am. Why do you think I am a murderer?”
The woman pointed at the Tridory, never taking her eyes off Arche.
“The spear? So what?”
“You have bound yourself to the Tridory.”
“Again, so what?”
“To do so, you are a murderer. It is a cursed weapon and should have stayed buried.”
Arche considered that.
“So you’re saying in order to have bound myself to the spear, I had to be a murderer. Like some sort of weird moral prerequisite?”
“Yes.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. What if I had killed someone in self-defense? Or fairly in battle?”
The woman shook her head.
“No. The Tridory is a weapon attuned to that which commands Death. To bind yourself to it, you must sacrifice yourself for power. To murder another, you lose yourself.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I didn’t kill anybody before I bound myself to the spear.”
“Then you are lying.”
Arche frowned.
“I lost memories, a few days before I found the Tridory.”
The woman lifted her chin, suddenly paying very close attention.
“What memories?”
“All of them. I was a blank slate. That was about two months ago. I woke up in the woods wearing weird, uncomfortable clothes. Almost got eaten by a rabid, half-dead wolf.”
The woman cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at Arche.
“You are a murderer,” she said at last. “And you are not a murderer.”
“How am I both? Seems like a binary thing.”
“Murder marks your soul, but you have not committed it.”
Arche stared at her.
“What the fuck does that mean, lady?”
The woman made a strange gesture to one side, frustration clear in the movement.
“You are the one that does not make sense. Do not blame me for being unable to explain yourself to you.”
Arche blinked, more surprised he’d gotten a reaction out of her than anything else.
“Sorry?”
The woman glared at him a moment longer, then gestured to one of the chairs by the fireplace. Arche hesitated, then limped over to it. Despite the numbing agent, he was still in quite a bit of pain and was grateful for the opportunity to sit down.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we try again? I’m Arche. Sorry for burning your books.”
The woman glanced toward the fire and shrugged. She muttered something to herself in a language unfamiliar to him, then placed both hands on her face and wiped toward her ears. Her image flickered and shifted. Black clothing colored into tan, then yellow. The mask around her face disappeared, and blonde hair fell around her shoulders. Her shirt settled into the color of daisies while her pants warmed to a clay brown.
She was younger than Arche expected, likely in her late twenties or early thirties, but she carried herself with an easy confidence and the glint in her eyes spoke of more years than her face let on.
“Lady Rune, I take it.”
“Indeed.”
Her voice was different as well. Less harsh, a slightly lighter timbre. She gave a half smile, more out of courtesy than amusement, but the action made Arche blink in surprise, as she suddenly looked very familiar.
“Wait a minute. Were you the girl from outside the shop?”
She was years older, had different hair, and there was a subtle difference around her eyes and cheeks, but the resemblance was uncanny. Rune’s smile became genuine.
“Perhaps. Tea?”
A small cup appeared in her hand, full of liquid. She held it out to him and he accepted it belatedly.
“Thanks.” He sipped at it. It was honeyed. “I’m very confused right now.”
“You’re an outsider. Curious.”
Arche frowned.
“I’ve heard that before. What does it mean?”
“It means you are not from Tartarus.”
“Then where am I from?”
“I don’t know, but you’re here now.”
Arche set his tea to the side and placed his good hand over his eyes.
“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be fed hints and glimpses of your past, only to be constantly denied any actual answers?”
Rune’s smile faded, leaving an almost haunted look.
“It is a fate worse than death, to lose oneself. But who you used to be is not the person you have become. To learn more of your past may risk the death of your current self.”
“I don’t accept that. Whoever I used to be is still me, right? Remembering what I’ve done and who I was isn’t going to erase everything I’ve done and become since.”
An emotion flashed across Rune’s face, so fast Arche barely had time to register it, let alone identify it. As soon as it appeared, it was replaced by a business-like expression.
“This conversation is not productive. We should discuss things that matter more to the present and the future. What you need and what you are willing to part with. So, what brings you to my shop?”
“I meant to come here with another. Someone who used to work for you. A satyr named Helwan Panysk.”
Rune’s eyes sparkled.
“I am delighted to hear he is alive. I feared the worst for him. Is he well?”
“He is. I imagine he’ll be along shortly. I don’t mean to interject myself into the specifics of the conversation you two will have, but I wanted to say that I came here as his friend.”
Rune tilted her head back.
“You tell me this to ingratiate yourself with me. You think that if I know that you have befriended an employee of mine with few allies, I will be less willing to resort to my earlier aggression.”
“No, I…” Arche paused. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“I appreciate your honesty, and your news, but it does nothing to answer my question. Why are you here?”
“Several reasons. For one, I hoped you could tell me more about the Tridory. What it can do, who made it, and why it seems to be such a big deal.”
“I can tell you these things, yes.”
“Will you?”
“No.”
Arche would have broken the armrest off his chair if his own arms weren’t already protesting the slightest movement.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because knowledge of that weapon is nearly as dangerous as the weapon itself. I had hoped that the forebearers would have had the sense to lock it away more securely, but it seems they were not blessed with more than a few grains of caution.”
“Forebearers,” Arche echoed. “You mean the people from the previous era? Before the apocalypse?”
“Enough. I will not tell you of the spear. I encourage you not to seek out information on it. You have bound yourself to it, so you should consider it your life’s work to hide it away from the world.”
“If you’re not going to tell me why, then I’m not going to follow your directions.”
Rune’s head cocked slightly, her expression carefully neutral.
“Your death is a small price to pay to safeguard this world.”
Arche opened his mouth to retort, but Rune’s face twisted and his words died on his tongue. Her eyes went wide and she blinked several times, as though trying to clear her vision. Her guarded expression pulled into a frown as her eyes darted around Arche, clearly taking in something he couldn’t see.
“What?” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “How is that…oh. I see.”
Arche contented himself with glaring at her in silence, waiting for her to finish whatever trance she was undergoing. Half a minute later, her eyes refocused onto his own.
“I see now what I could not before,” Rune said. “You are right to ask. You will need the knowledge of the spear, but not yet. There is other knowledge that you need more. Do you know of what I speak?”
Arche ignored her question and posed one of his own.
“Are you some kind of fortune teller?”
Rune raised a single eyebrow but did not deign to respond. Arche sighed.
“I have Mana Scars that I need to recover from. I was told that to fix them would be difficult and time consuming. Something about pushing healing energy directly into the scars, like Health Manipulation or something, but I don’t know how to do that.”
“It is a complex process and not one I imagine you have the time for. Depending on the extent of the scarring and your ability to heal it, it might be years before you recover fully.”
Arche’s heart sagged, coming to rest somewhere around his toes.
“Luckily for you,” Rune continued. “I know another way.”
“What is it?”
“I warn you. You may want this path – but you will not like it.”
“I don’t have a choice. With what’s coming, I need everything I can get to keep my friends safe.”
Rune’s mouth twitched upward at the corners.
“Very well. I have in my collection an orb made by a powerful Psychic enchantress, capable of affecting the pathways inside your mind. If you use it, I suspect it will allow you to connect your current mind to your previous mind.”
“I want that,” Arche said. “But how does that help me with this?”
“Because it is also a mental cleanse. The enchantress intended to use the orb to keep her mental state sharp and focused. In doing so, she used it to separate and remove the parts of herself she deemed…unnecessary. This strengthened her Mana channels at great cost to her mind, though she might argue differently.”
Arche digested this for a moment.
“You’re saying that this would heal my Mana Scars, but I might end up removing a part of my mind to do so?”
Rune shook her head.
“No matter what happens inside your mind, you will not be the same. I only tell you of this option because I have seen the forces at play in your life. I would tell you to focus on healing your damage naturally, no matter how long it takes. That is the only safe method.”
The blood-like visage of Ares flashed in Arche’s mind.
‘You would wage war against me? You will serve me in the end.’
Those words had followed him ever since. In the face of something like that, what choice did he really have? It wouldn’t just come for him, but for the others, too. Lyssa, Theresa, Helwan, Vik, and all the others. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I’ll do it.”