If Daphne’s time in her own fantasy world had taught her anything, it was that she had a lot still left to learn about that world.
Over and over, she’d been forced to confront the limits of her understanding of Euloban. She was gradually getting to the point of admitting she couldn’t really be sure about anything.
But griffins were different. Of all the worldbuilding that Daphne had poured into Euloban, she had labored over the griffin tribes the longest. She was ignorant about dalamelles, sure. She’d been gladly surprised by the existence of the under-waters, and blissfully unaware of the existence of Pinchers. But griffins… Daphne knew griffins.
For example, she knew with absolute certainty that griffins were extremely proud, noble creatures. Knowing this, it seemed reasonable to assume that vomiting all over the plumage of an excessively griffin-ish griffin like Eydis would result in immediate exile for the vomiter. Especially if the vomiter was a measly, most likely treacherous human like Daphne who had already been sentenced to exile by Eydis.
But once again, Euloban surprised her. Despite being covered in a truly noxious mixture of Pincher guts and Daphne-puke, the look Eydis gave Daphne was not one of disgust, but of wonder.
“How didst thou do that?” she asked softly.
“Sorry,” Daphne stammered. “I can’t stand bugs.”
She lifted her bottle and moved to pour the glowing water onto Eydis’s wings, hoping to wash away the guts-puke combo. The griffin stepped away, but it wasn’t a rebuff. Eydis was walking over to the wall where Daphne had been standing, her awed gaze now fixed on the carving that had produced the Pincher-killing fireball.
“The Lore-light.” Eydis stared at the wall as if in a trance. “Thou found it. Thou pulled it from the wall, from the very stone.”
“The Lore-light?” Runar joined Eydis by the wall, walking like he was being pulled by a magnet. “But I thought it was a legend only. Part of the Great Story. To be dreamed of and longed for, but never seen.”
“It was,” Eydis chanted. “It is. But the longings have been answered, and the dreams have come awake. The legend is alive.”
“I’m sorry,” Daphne repeated. “What is a Lore-light? What did I do?”
“The Lore-light is the heart of Euloban,” Runar said. He traced the carving with one wingtip. “It is a sign of the Great Story that runs through the land, giving power to the classes. Our legends say that it was once a visible force. The Lorists sing of mountains and valleys shot through with light like the branches of a river.”
Eydis took up the tale, still chanting in a strange, singsong voice.
“Then the Lore-light faded from the surface, vanishing back into the roots of the earth whence it came. It left traces of itself in the streams and pools, infusing them with radiant power. That is the origin of the Eloquent Waters, according to legend.”
“But only legend,” Runar persisted. “Even the most devout Lorists do not believe the Lore-light actually existed. I know my father did not believe thus.”
“Yet thou hast witnessed it. We have seen the living light, and it hath vanquished our foes.” Eydis closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the carving. “Thank the Story,” she whispered.
Then she turned to Daphne. With a shock, Daphne noticed the griffin’s usually narrowed eyes were not only still widened, but brimming with tears.
“We must return to my kin with all haste,” Eydis said.
“Really?” The Prism was buzzing in Daphne’s pocket. She thought of grabbing onto it for support, but then realized her right hand was still bound up with her satchel in sticky Pincher-webbing. Instead, she plunged her left hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around her status book, trying to keep her voice at a normal level. “I mean, aren’t you banishing me back to the Silent Plains?”
“Thou hast summoned the Lore-light,” Eydis replied. “My kin must be told of this. They must speak with thee.”
“But — I thought humans can’t be trusted.” Daphne heard herself saying. She caught a glimpse of Runar over Eydis’ shoulder. He was shaking his head frantically in a ‘what-are-you-thinking-just-shut-up’ gesture, but the words kept pouring out of her mouth, fueled by uncontrollable fear. “What if I just did some dark Wordmage stuff? What if I did it without even realizing it? What if I bring danger to you, and all the Lorists?”
“Take out thy book,” Eydis said calmly. “What does Euloban say of thy deeds?”
Daphne pulled her status book from her pocket. Flipping it open in her one free hand, she stared mutely at the fifth page.
Runar came to stand beside her, reading over her shoulder.
“Loresmith.” He drew in a sharp, reverent breath. “Thou hast a new skill.”
Eydis joined them, peering over Daphne’s other shoulder to read Euloban’s response to the recent battle.
NAME: Daphne Green
CLASS: Wordsmith
LEVEL: 7
WISDOM: 6
STRENGTH: 4
INTELLIGENCE: 7
DEXTERITY: 5
AESTHETICS: 6
SKILLS: Triunity Restored, Team Player, Loresmith
Triunity Restored
You participated in the first combined effort of all three classes in years. Your actions have begun the restoration of triunity, which is the heart of Euloban. This is a shared skill, and enhances your abilities when working with the other two classes.
Team Player
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You abandoned the pursuit of personal fame to aid a fallen comrade. In this, you embody the true spirit of Euloban. This skill sharpens your awareness of your comrades’ needs and enhances your efforts to meet those needs, especially when sacrifice is involved.
Loresmith
You love the Story that lies at the heart of Euloban, and your love called it forth. This skill enables you to access the unique abilities of all three classes: the Wisdom of the Lorist to recognize the story, the Intelligence of the Wordsmith to shape it, and the Aesthetics of the Reader to wield it with wonder. It is a rare skill, combining into one being the powers normally shared among three. As such, it may only be used in an hour of great need, and only for the sake of others.
“Well,” Runar said, his voice brimming with barely contained glee. “I guess that settles it.”
“Indeed.” Eydis shook out her goo-clogged wings. “We return to our kin with all haste. Let us rid ourselves of this foul muck, and then we shall proceed.”
Daphne was still staring at the open book.
“I don’t remember blacking out,” she said.
“I told thee Euloban is gentle,” Runar reminded her. “Besides, thy senses were still overwhelmed. It decided to manifest in a more… violent manner than usual.” He displayed his chest plumage, covered in Daphne’s puke, as evidence.
“Right, but what does this mean?” Daphne realized the book was shaking in her hand. She was shivering. “It didn’t say anything about Lore-light. How do we know that I’m… that it’s safe?”
“I know,” Eydis stated. “I have studied the ancient ways all my life. I have Wisdom enough to recognize their work when I see it, and to distinguish between that work and the corrupted magic of the Word master.”
The word ‘magic’ triggered a horrible vision for Daphne. She saw the Wordmage, wrapping himself and Mark up in the smog-chain until they were both caught up by the Devouring Wind.
Daphne snapped the book shut.
“You’ll help Mark?” she asked, her voice more shaky than her hands. “We’ll make a plan to save him?”
“We shall take counsel with my kin,” Eydis replied. Then she sniffed, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Now quickly, child. We shall need most of the water thou and Runar possess to deliver us from this reek.”
It took only a few drops to dissolve the sticky mess still binding Daphne’s right hand to her satchel. Once she had both hands free, Daphne hastened to empty her open bottle over Eydis’s head. In the process, she dropped her status book into a pile of Pincher guts and elbowed Eydis in the eye. Somehow, they managed to restore the griffin’s feathers to their customary clean, dark brown state.
Runar required more than just a bath. His welts from the Wordmage’s smog-chain had begun oozing during the battle, and he also had some cuts and bruises from the Pinchers to attend to. His approach to fighting being far more enthusiastic than smart, he had thrown himself in harm’s way more often than was strictly necessary. But, considering he’d gotten more than half his wounds while trying to protect Daphne, she thought it only right to empty her other bottle on his behalf.
When they were all relatively gunk-free, Eydis drew herself up to her full height.
“It is only a short way to the Hall of Parables,” she said in her hard voice, every inch an expedition leader rapping out orders to young recruits. “We must proceed swiftly, and in absolute silence. No doubt it was our loud altercation upon meeting which drew the Pinchers to us.”
“Why were you in the tunnels at all?” Daphne asked curiously. “Runar said no one comes down here anymore, except on scouting missions.”
“I was seeking Runar.” The older griffin glared fiercely down her beak at the younger. “He had been gone overlong.”
Runar muttered something barely audible about not being a helpless fledgling, but he kept his eyes on the floor and did not meet Eydis’s gaze.
Eydis nodded. Without another word, she turned and began marching back up the tunnel.
Runar and Daphne followed, once again walking side by side. They had to walk closely behind Eydis for visibility’s sake. Both their bottle-pendants had been emptied in the ‘deliver-us-from-this-reek’ cause, while the female griffin had kept a small portion of her own water to light the rest of their journey.
Not that Daphne wanted to hang back in the darkness. Runar assured her that the fireball had scared the Pinchers away for good, but she still kept straining her ears, listening for the sounds of scuttling feet and clicking mandibles somewhere behind them. Sticking close to Eydis and her basher seemed like an excellent plan. Daphne just had to be careful not to step on the lion’s tail swishing with rhythmic precision right at her feet.
The only downside was not being able to talk to Runar. She wanted to hear more about the Lore-light, and get his perspective on her past two extravagant level-ups. She wanted to thank him for keeping the Pincher off her as long as he did. And she wanted to ask about his status-book. She’d been so wrapped up in the mystery of her new skill that she hadn’t even thought to ask, but she was sure he had leveled at least once. He had kicked ass in that battle. He’d been kicking ass the whole time she’d known him. Surely Euloban would agree that he deserved some rewards, and would help him make up for lost time. She resolved to pull him aside at the first available opportunity and get a full report.
But hang on… they were joined, weren’t they? She could read his emotions. It wouldn’t be detailed, but she could at least get a sense of how he was feeling in general about the day’s events.
She sent out a tentative, inquiring emotion, inviting him to share if he felt so inclined.
The response nearly knocked her over.
It was an emotional tidal wave, flooding her senses with nearly as much force as the fireball explosion. But she didn’t care because it was all joy. Delirious, exhilarating, triumphant joy, cascading along their emotional link in a bewildering kaleidoscope of good vibes.
For a few minutes, Daphne just basked in the joy, grinning like a maniac as they walked in silent giddy communion. Then she decided to try something. These feelings were so potent, maybe they were a sign that their link had gotten stronger. Maybe the battle had leveled up their joining. Maybe…
She thought hard, forming her question in the simplest words and sending it back across the emotional link.
“What level?”
A few more silent moments and several steps later, she heard it, like a voice whispering in the back of her brain.
“Ten.”
Happiness exploded inside of Daphne. Now joy was going both ways along the emotional link, dancing and buzzing like the Prism on a good writing day. The Prism itself, Daphne noticed, had gone as cold and still as stone in her pocket, but she didn’t have time to wonder why. All she could think about was the inner party she was having with her bond-friend.
Her bond-friend, who was a Level 10 Lorist… and a griffin.
She was so immersed in the unbelievable good fortune of all this that she almost didn’t notice the light growing brighter around her feet. Gradually, though, she realized that she could make out the different shades of brown on the back of Eydis’s head. The carvings on the walls were more distinguishable and more detailed. Looking to the side, she caught Runar’s eye, and he smiled.
“Nearly there,” whispered the new link-voice in her mind.
Daphne swallowed. Now that she was actually about to fulfill her lifelong impossible dream of visiting a griffin city, she was nervous. The last time she’d encountered one of her dreams as reality, she’d ended up covered in bug guts. What if the griffins didn’t like her? What if they thought trusting a human was too dangerous? She couldn’t blame them… but what if they refused to help Mark?
Her hand sought her pocket — not her right hand with the Prism, but her left hand, grabbing and holding on to her status book for dear life. With her right hand, she reached out and touched Runar’s shoulder.
Warmth and reassurance flowed through her. The griffin was sending her a clear message along both physical and emotional links. She didn’t need words, but they formed anyway, strange and faint but still undeniably there:
“All shall be well, Loresmith.”
Daphne took a deep breath just as they arrived at a magnificent archway, carved all round with the most elaborate designs she’d seen yet. Light was pouring through, so bright that it was difficult to see anything beyond the threshold.
Eydis stopped and turned to them, framed by that arch, the cascading light turning her into a dark griffin silhouette.
“Welcome to the Hall of Parables.”