“But… how…” Daphne turned, watching the light’s progress as glowing designs spread across every inch of the stone room.
“Daphne,” Runar began, finally making himself heard above Bjarni’s loud jubilation, “what didst thou do? When thou summoned Lore-light against the other monster?”
“I thought about all the people who care about me,” she said slowly. “And who have helped me, and who are depending on me to help them. Then I spoke the entrance words for Eydis’s prose-shaft.”
“Word-power.” Runar’s voice was soft with reverence. “Of course. Fear cannot stomach story, any more than it can digest love. Thou triumphed by the might of story itself, summoned from the very air. Or from within. I never dreamed —”
“But this didn’t happen then!” Daphne looked at the griffin brothers, finally tearing her eyes away from the shining walls and ceiling. “The other room didn’t light up like this.”
“Thou didst not touch the stone then,” Bjarni reminded her, wriggling with barely contained enthusiasm. “We rushed to find Runar and bring him aid. I am sure, if thou hadst lingered, we would have seen the light called forth from the stone there also!”
“But I didn’t do anything here,” she protested. “I just watched. You were the one who ‘called forth light’ this time, and you didn’t even say anything!”
Runar closed his eyes. “These are deep matters. I cannot — it is difficult to understand, but…”
“How canst thou say that, brother?” Bjarni actually took off, soaring briefly around the room and brushing the light-carvings with his wingtips before settling back down beside Runar and Daphne. “Hast thou not heeded thy lessons? Are not thou learned in the lore of our kin? It is perfectly clear!”
“Clear?” Daphne echoed, just as Runar demanded, “How?”
“It is as the Wordsmith said.” Bjarni grinned widely at them both as he explained, occasionally giving his tail an excited swoosh-flick against the stone floor. “What need have we of carvings or word-power captured in stone? We have the fire within ourselves, she said. But not just oneself. ’Tis triunity — the power of the three classes, working as one even when separated. The Wordsmith drew on that power. She summoned the Cleansing Flame. I was there as the Reader, and caught the spark. I used the spark to aid my kin, the Lorist. One class aiding another, while the third looked on in silent support. Now the flame is kindled, and it has illuminated the way we are to take.”
As one, all three looked to the doorway. Sure enough, the light-designs weren’t stopping at the threshold of this room. They continued on, spreading down the tunnel and around the corner, moving as quickly as dandelion petals scattered on the wind.
Daphne’s heart seemed to skip a beat. “You mean… the light will guide us back to Eydis’ tunnel? So we can get back on track and meet up with the Lorist Way?”
Bjarni snorted. “Runar and I could do that, following just our noses and ears. I am speaking of a way far deeper and older than the tunnels our ancestors built. The Cleansing Flame has revealed the ancient way. It will lead us to victory!”
Daphne looked at Runar, expecting him to scoff at his young brother’s wishful thinking, but the golden griffin’s eyes were thoughtful.
“Perhaps thou art right, Bjarni,” Runar said. “I do not fully comprehend this light, nor can I so quickly accept thy explanation as firm truth. But the light feels… wholesome. It is not a quiet feeling. It causes a stirring in my spirit, one that feels more akin to a draught of Eloquent Water than to an encounter with a Devouring Wind, or some other such foul force.” He nodded, almost like he was talking himself into something. “We should follow the path laid out by this light, at least for a while.”
“But —” Daphne had the strange sense of floundering, like she’d stepped on supposedly solid ground only to find herself up to her neck in water. Her right hand went to her pocket automatically, only to find the Prism as still and cold as a corpse. She gripped it anyway, hanging on to the magic pen for dear life as she went on. “Wait a second. What about the Under Library? I thought we needed to go there and find a way to stop the Wordmaster. Save Mark? Isn’t that still the plan?”
“Maybe the light will take us to the Under Library,” Bjarni suggested. “But more swiftly than the Lorist Way, or to the right part so we can find what we need. Is not the library vast?”
“Larger than the mountain range,” Runar said. “According to our histories, and the tales of our elders who have seen with their own eyes.”
“Exactly!” Bjarni crowed. “The light carvings will lead us. If not to the Under Library, then somewhere even better. Maybe even to a secret entrance to the Wordmaster’s fortress! Then we can unleash the Cleansing Flame and bring the fortress down around his pointy head!”
“And save Mark,” Runar added.
“Of course!” Bjarni agreed. “We shall save the Wordsmith’s Mark!”
“Didn’t Eydis tell us to follow the straight path?” Daphne wasn’t sure where all this reluctance was coming from, but she couldn’t seem to stop it pouring from her mouth. “Never to turn aside? I turned aside, and look how that went. I nearly got two of us eaten by living dirt. Shouldn’t we just get back to the Eydis Way as soon as possible?”
“Eydis also told us to heed my brother’s strength,” Runar pointed out. “And I do not believe she meant only his physical vigor, or his might in battle. Bjarni’s true strength is his great heart. It’s his ability to believe, and to hope, long after supposedly wiser minds have hardened into despair. Hope is nimble. When more experienced eyes are blind, hope can find a new way.”
“Or an ancient way?” Bjarni asked eagerly.
Runar smiled. “Perhaps. It is worth at least a brief exploration.” He turned to Daphne. “Art thou willing, my friend? Thy concerns are valid, and thy voice has weight. If thou truly believest that our quest would be better served by following our original course, we can return to the prose-shaft and proceed as planned.”
“I’m… It’s just…” Daphne took a deep breath, achieving a ray of clarity in the process. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “Every time I think I’ve got this place figured out, it throws something new at me. I feel like it’s all slipping through my hands. I’m not sure how much more I can handle.”
Runar lifted a wing and laid it gently across her shoulders. As his golden eyes gazed at her steadily, something deep inside her gave a gentle tug, With a shock, she realized that all the panic from the dirt monster had piled up, blocking her emotional link with the griffin. She let it shake loose, and a small tide of calm understanding flowed through, pushing back against the waves of cold rolling off the Prism.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Of course thou art afraid,” he said gently. “As am I, and Bjarni. Our choice is how we shall respond to that fear. Shall we let it harden and age us, as with poor Mynna? Or shall we follow Eydis? She is the most fearful of all my kin, and has always honored the laws that keep us safe. Yet she has defied all of those laws in aiding us.”
Daphne stared at the glowing carvings now illuminating the whole tunnel, stretching away around the corner. This was Lore-light, summoned not from word-power preserved in stone, but from love and wonder and the need to help others.
The ancient ways live in us: in our veins, not in these rocks.
It was the voice of Eydis herself, echoing in Daphne’s memory like a trumpet.
They are merely bones, Wordsmith. We are the breath.
“We are the breath,” Daphne repeated softly.
WE. Not Daphne alone, nor Runar, nor even Bjarni. Together, they represented the restoration of triunity. Together, they could handle any curveball Euloban might want to throw at them.
“It’s a new kind of Lore-light,” she said slowly. She felt warmer as she said the words, defiant against the cold of the Prism. “Fueled by a Reader, forged by a Wordsmith, interpreted by a Lorist.”
She looked at her two companions. Joy radiated from Bjarni’s whole being, mixing with the warmth flowing along Runar’s emotional link, until she felt like a fire really had kindled in her heart. Not a ‘cleansing tide’ of vengeance, like Bjarni kept talking about. It was more a cozy campfire, perfect for storytelling time under the stars.
“A scary new path, made possible only by the combined efforts of the three classes?” The warmth spread up to Daphne’s face and she smiled. “That sounds the true Eydis Way to me.”
Bjarni whooped, springing into the air again and doing another loop of the room. Then he dive-bombed Daphne and Runar and wrapped both wings around the pair, smothering them in another hug-pile.
“Thou art not alone, Wordsmith!” he cried, his single high-volume voice ringing directly in her ear. She winced, but kept smiling as he bellowed on. “We shall follow the ancient way and save thy Mark!”
“Thanks, Bjarni. And Runar. Thanks, both of you.” Daphne struggled free from the hug and began checking through her satchel and bottle-pendants. “We should get a move on. We’re due for a rest soon, but I don’t want to hang out in dirt monster territory any longer than we have to.”
“That is wise,” Runar agreed. “Let us follow the light-way another hour, and then find a place to take rest. We should still move as quietly as possible.”
“Quietly?” Bjarni’s face fell. “But, brother, surely the ancient way —”
“Is still unknown to us,” Runar said firmly. “The dirt monsters may not be the only horrors to lurk in these tunnels. The light which illuminates our path might also reveal us to foes. We shall proceed with caution.”
Bjarni hung his head. Then, with the whiplash resilience of youth, he clacked his beak and began rummaging in his satchel.
“Wait!” he cried, pulling out his status-book. “Before we depart, we should see how Euloban has rewarded us for these battles, and for this new stage in our quest.”
“Brother —” Runar began, but Bjarni was already flipping his book open.
“And we can meditate upon the changes as we journey quietly through the tunnels. Ha! Brother, Wordsmith, behold!” Bjarni turned the book around, displaying his new page. “Level 5, and my first skill. Fire of Kinship!”
“Thy flame burns bright,” Runar read aloud, making no effort to conceal the pride in his voice. “So bright, that it can kindle fire in others. Thy contribution to any work not only improves the outcome of that work, but the contributions of all around thee.” Runar threw his wings out and crowed in a rare display of open, even smug, satisfaction. “Well done, brother!”
Bjarni himself was puffing out his chest plumage so much, Daphne feared the feathers might burst. “A skill! A skill! And another, see? A shared skill, for the three of us! The Ancient Way! Oh, Runar…” He deflated slightly, looking at his brother with uncharacteristic solemnity. “I wish Father were here.”
Daphne’s heart rose to her throat, but Runar had it covered.
“He could not be any prouder than I am.” The golden griffin bowed respectfully. “Congratulations, Reader Bjarni.”
Bjarni returned the bow. “Many thanks, Lorist Runar.”
Then, as one, they turned to Daphne.
“Well?” Bjarni prompted. “What did Euloban give thee?”
Daphne turned the book around so they could read.
NAME: Daphne Green
CLASS: Wordsmith
LEVEL: 10
WISDOM: 8
STRENGTH: 4
INTELLIGENCE: 8
DEXTERITY: 6
AESTHETICS: 8
SKILLS: Triunity Restored, Team Player, Loresmith, The Ancient Way
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
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.
The Ancient Way
Working together with the other classes, you have uncovered a hidden path. This path springs from, leads to, and is illuminated by the Story at the heart of Euloban. The path, like this shared skill, can only be followed in triunity, and only with the aim of cultivating the Story anew for fresh generations.
The two griffins bowed.
“Congratulations, Wordsmith Daphne,” Runar said.
“Double leveling! And your Aesthetics and Wisdom, as high as a Reader or a Lorist!” Bjarni’s eyes shone. “Truly, thou art unique. The embodiment of Triunity.”
Daphne looked at the status book. “I guess.”
“What ails thee?” Runar asked. Glancing up, she saw he was watching her closely.
“It’s just… I can’t figure Euloban out.” Daphne’s eyebrows creased as she flipped through the pages. “I do a big battle, and nothing happens. I do another big battle, and I level twice. What’s the difference?”
“Thy path has been different,” Bjarni suggested. “As I said, thou art unique! I am sure Euloban has its purpose.”
“I guess,” Daphne said again.
She felt Runar’s golden eyes on her as she put her status book away, but when he spoke, it was in a bright, change-the-subject tone.
“Let us away!” he said. “Come, ‘Fire of Kinship.’ We shall need thy flames burning low and controlled to sustain us through this silent journey.”
Bjarni puffed up again, thrilled with the responsibility conferred by his new skill, and bounded towards the tunnel. Runar winked at Daphne, and the two of them turned to follow his brother along the ancient way.