Chapter Thirty-Six – Level 4
Tara didn’t even consider looting Narion Nightsong’s body. She went straight to Kell, half-dragging herself to the fey’s side.
“Kell…” She turned the fey gently on his back, wincing at the bruising and grime on his face. The fey’s eyes were closed and his sallow skin was even paler than usual. Searching his wrist, she couldn’t find a heartbeat.
“Let me see.”
Tara almost jumped when Wenrik crouched beside them, her nerves still strung tightly after the fight. She couldn’t believe how hard she was shaking now that the battle with Narion Nightsong was over. Even her teeth were chattering.
“I-is he a-alright?” she asked Wenrik.
The Borzerk’s nod sent a wave of relief through her. “He’s breathing,” Wenrik said. “I had no idea this little fellow had that kind of magic stored up inside him. I can see now why so many people fear the fey. I’m glad he was on our side.”
“Was he?” asked Horon. The big Fenman was uncharacteristically muted, as if the hollow space of that massive throne room was overwhelming in the aftermath of the struggle they had faced. “You heard the necromancer. ‘I never should have let him into my service,’ he said. This little imp was working with the enemy from the beginning.”
Elita nodded, taking the pouch of health solutions from Tara’s trembling fingers. Remembering how angry the gnome had been when she had first suspected the fey meant to lead them into a trap of some kind, Tara was surprised when Elita uncorked one of the vials and held it close to Kell’s mouth.
“Yes,” said the gnome. “They must have been working together in some capacity. But after everything that’s happened—I think Kell must have changed his mind about whatever evil he may have intended. The elder-kin are terribly mysterious.”
“He can’t be trusted,” said Horon.
“I couldn’t have m-made it without him,” tripped Tara, trying to control her shuddering. She thought of the letter that the Shieldmistress Altheria had mentioned, the letter she had been supposed to discover on Kell’s corpse in the wilderness. That letter, the Shieldmistress had said, would explain everything about the fey. But it didn’t seem right to take it now, not when Kell was unconscious.
She glanced around, still trying to process the mostly empty throne room and the captives still huddled together. “Are a-all the n-necromanced dead?”
“It’s all over, Hero,” said Wenrik, grinning. “I didn’t honestly think you had it in you.”
Tara glared at him, but she was grateful for his teasing. It made her a little stronger. This time when strange words formed above them, Wenrik and the others showed no surprise, only interest.
TROPHY EARNED – NARION NIGHTSONG
YOU’VE LEVELED UP
“I still have no idea what that means,” said Wenrick.
“It means we’ve done it,” Tara said. She felt like someone had forced her to run five miles carrying ten pound weights, but she was better with every passing moment. “We won.”
She was glad to see Kell’s eyes open. The fey sat up fast, and his mouth opened wide when he saw Narion Nightsong’s motionless body.
“How is it possible?”
“Your master is dead,” said Horon, ignoring Elita’s frown.
Kell was immediately evasive. “I had to do something,” he said, avoiding looking at the companions.
“I understand,” said Tara. “And believe me, I’m glad. That’s some gift you have there. I had no idea your song could wield that kind of damage.”
“It’s more a curse than a gift,” murmured Kell. “Some think we are too dangerous to let live.”
“Well that’s ridiculous,” said Tara, “because I can tell you one thing, we wouldn’t be alive without you.”
The fey’s wandering gaze went to her. “You really believe that?”
“Of course I do,” Tara said firmly, a little concerned by the fey’s interest. Did he honestly not know what he had done against Narion Nightsong? “I saw what happened,” she reassured him. “We all did.”
“You blasted Narion Nightsong halfway to oblivion,” chuckled Wenrik, his gray head shaking with amusement. “I was impressed.”
A dangerous rumble above them made the companions look around together. The glowing orbs started to wink and flicker, and the ground under their feet trembled with the beginnings of an earthquake.
“What’s happening?” cried out one of the captives.
“It’s because of Narion Nightsong,” Elita said, raising her hands over her head to keep crumbling bits of stone from hitting her goggles “His magic is gone, so everything is falling apart. The lights are his, and I guess a lot of the structure deeper in the cave is because of him, too. We’ve got to get out! Tara, what are you doing?”
“Hold on,” said Tara, crouching next to Narion’s body. “I’ve got to search him.”
“Are you serious?” shouted Horon. “At a time like this?”
Tara had to admit, this probably wasn’t the best moment to be looting. She found a purse that jingled with the weight of silver coins and grabbed Narion’s giant sword.
“Can someone carry this for me? It’s probably worth a lot!”
Wenrik shouldered the sword. “She’s got the mind of a real bandit, this Hero of Allerion,” he said.
“A dead bandit, if we don’t get out of here!” said Elita as Horon hoisted the gnome onto his shoulders. “We need to run!”
No sooner did she finish speaking, than silver light flashed above them, forming numbers. Tara recognized the countdown timer immediately. This was definitely part of the game she remembered.
“Five minutes,” she said. “That’s plenty of time. You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
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“Is she serious?” asked Berga’s husband, hesitating with the others.
“Yes!” insisted Tara. “Go!”
While the others ran ahead, she hurried to Narion’s throne. As confident as she was with the timer hovering over her, it was a little unnerving, being alone in that flickering giant cavern with the huge lake nearby.
Behind the throne, Tara found what she was looking for. There was a small chest, and inside it was a handsome battle horn, carved with images of ancient warriors and feasts.
OBJECTIVE COMPLETE: FIND THE BATTLE HORN
“Got it!” said Tara, triumphant. “Ouch.” The debris from overhead was getting more dangerous, some of the stones strong enough to actually hurt when they hit her head and shoulders.
Tara ran for the entrance to the throne room. The others were nowhere in sight. Which way was the way out?
It hadn’t occurred to her that she might be lost. Once again, Tara could have kicked herself for her own cockiness.
Her wrist was seized by a knobby hand, and Kell led her quickly up a nearby stair.
“This way,” said the fey. “I told the others where to go as well.”
Tara didn’t question the fey’s knowledge of Narion Nightsong’s cave. She was grateful that he had any idea where to go. She concentrated on running, trying not to stumble over rolling boulders.
The timer was down to thirty seconds. Tara wasn’t so certain that was plenty of time anymore.
“Here,” said Kell, urging her to a dark room.
“But that goes down,” Tara protested.
The fey didn’t wait for her. Inside, he pulled a lever that was almost hidden behind some barrels. A door that looked like a shelf swung open, and afternoon light flooded the room.
“There are many secrets in Wanderer’s Bane,” said the fey, urging her outside. “You were right. Five minutes is more than enough.”
Tara thought “more than enough” might have been a slight overestimation. The tunnel was caving in behind them, and as they fled outside the room they were in collapsed, rubble caving together to block any hope of returning the Wanderer’s Bane.
In the daylight, the companions were gathered together, blinking under the open sky. Several of the released prisoners gazed around them as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.
“We made it,” said one of them, awed. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sky.”
Tara looked down at the battle horn in her hands. She brought it to Millard, Berga’s husband.
“Here,” she said. “This belongs to you.”
The man considered her with shining eyes. He didn’t take the battle horn.
“What I’ve seen here today was nothing I’ve seen before,” he said. “It’s a miracle. I heard your companions and the necromancer call you ‘Hero of Allerion.’ Is it true? You are the Last Hero of Allerion?”
Everyone was looking at her now. Tara tried to hide her discomfort. “I guess so,” she said. “I certainly want to help you. All of you.”
“You saved us,” said a woman with tears in her eyes. “You brought us out of that horrible place.”
“I couldn’t have done it without my companions,” said Tara frankly. “And you guys, too. We helped each other. In my opinion, we’re all heroes of Allerion.”
Once more, she tried to give the battle horn to Millard.
“No,” insisted the old man. “Keep it. That battle horn was meant for adventures, not an old man’s bedside table. Keep it as a token of my gratitude.”
Tara adjusted the battle horn’s strap on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. And, with an awkward smile, “Your wife’s missing you. She still keeps the tavern in Regan Harbor. My companions and I will be happy to see you all safely there.”
“Thank you,” said the man fervently. “I am looking forward to Berga’s carrot stew again.”
“Just give me a minute,” Tara told them, “and we’ll start.”
She saw the momentary confusion on the others’ faces as she willed herself to the Shieldmistress’s Vale.
***
Tara didn’t like to put off leveling up. She liked to spend her points as soon as she could. In addition, she wouldn’t mind a little time to breathe as well, away from the others. It wasn’t that she minded them. She just liked time to process everything that had happened.
Besides, Tara knew they wouldn’t mind. No matter how long she spent in the Vale, to the people in Allerion it felt as if no time at all had passed between her coming and going. The moments she was gone felt like the blink of an eye.
This time, the Shieldmistress was waiting for her.
“You successfully defeated the necromancer,” said Altheria. “I see his armor set is now available for purchase.”
“Yes,” said Tara. “Kell helped me.”
The Shieldmistress’s eyes narrowed at once. “Kell?”
“That’s right. The fey that you said I should kill was a huge help,” said Tara. “I don’t think we would have made it without him.”
The Shieldmistress rested one slender finger on her lip. She was disturbed, clearly repressing some emotion.
“I do not understand how this is possible,” she said at last.
“And Wenrik joined us in the cave,” added Tara. “I thought only two companions were supposed to be able to join me.”
“That is the rule,” allowed the Shieldmistress. She turned from Tara, going to the display where ghost-like representations of Tara’s companions waited for selection. Since their combat, Tara saw that Elita had improved in intelligence, Wenrik in dexterity, and Horon in strength. But there was no sign of Kell the fey.
“He is still not an essential character,” said Altheria. “He is not your companion.”
“And yet, somehow, he is,” argued Tara. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to admit, the rules aren’t working like they normally do. Something is different. Somehow, everything feels like it’s—changing.”
“You’re right,” allowed Altheria. “There is a change. And I believe, Tara MacQueen, that that change is you.”
Tara stiffened, but there was no accusation in the Shieldmistress’s observation.
“You are the difference,” repeated the fair elf. “Since you have arrived, you have not behaved as other heroes do. Aside from occasional ignorance and naivety, you seem to know a great deal more than you should, considering your level and the regions of the map yet unexplored. You do not follow the dialogue of your predecessors. I wonder at you, Tara MacQueen. I wonder whether the Last Hero of Allerion is our savior or our ultimate destruction.”
Tara wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She wanted to protest, but she didn’t have any kind of defense. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone. But she knew that somehow, wherever she went, there was always some kind of disturbance.
“You have five skill points to spend after your encounter with Narion Nightsong,” said the Shieldmistress finally. “Where would you like to put them?”
“Dexterity,” said Tara immediately.
“A strange choice for a Borzerk warrior,” said Altheria.
“I want to be better with the bow,” explained Tara.
Character Name
Class Details
Current Stats
Tara MacQueen
Borzerk - A human race primarily settled in the flatlands of Grayscape and the crags of the Windrake cliffs. They are a savage people who love war, and have been known to form raiding parties against the Skor, although they prefer to attack their nearest neighbors, the trolls.
Stamina: 150
Strength: 150
Intelligence: 81
Dexterity: 145
Magic: 30
Special Skill: Bloodrage - when a Borzerk succumbs to bloodrage, they are able to fight with +50 strength and sustain terrible injuries for a short period of time. Cost: -100 stamina.
“You already have the Assassin I skill,” said Altheria. “What would you like to choose next? With your current level of dexterity, you can unlock Assassin II.”
“What does that do?” asked Tara.
The Shieldmistress led her to the skill tree and touched one of the gleaming crystals. Text materialized over them.
Assassin II – Damage from a sneak attack increases 10%
“That’s pretty good,” admitted Tara. She sighed, thinking about her combat skills. “To be honest, that sounds like a great idea. I don’t think I could have faced Narion Nightsong head-on.”
“That kind of skill takes time and practice,” said Altheria severely. “And you must play to your strengths as a Borzerk. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yep,” said Tara. “Stay away from magic.”
The fair elf raised one eyebrow. “Some paths are more difficult than others. But does that make them less worthwhile?”
Tara frowned. “I thought you were telling me to play to my strengths.”
“I am,” said Altheria. “And if I know you at all in the few times we have met, I believe you are someone who doesn’t give up on what she wants, no mater what the odds are or how difficult the path. Am I wrong?”
Tara looked up at the skill tree. There were a number of branches and different skill sets. Even after years of playing, Tara had never unlocked all the possible skills.
“Is there another skill to strengthen my ability with a bow?” she asked.
“There is,” said Altheria. “You will have to start at the bottom, with the very first trait in the skill set."
Ranger I – Accuracy with a bow improves by 5%
“My aim is pretty bad,” Tara admitted. “I definitely need this.”
“Very well,” said the Shieldmistress, taking the crystal from the tree. “You've made a wise choice.”