The next day we clashed in our training. Guinevere had me wearing my heavy training armor, but she had finished training me in the fundamentals. Now we were worked on honing my skill. She didn’t hold back knocking me down every time. It didn’t help that she had Foresight on, and I didn’t, but I was confident that fighting without it was a handicap that would eventually let me become as skilled as her.
She left cuts all over the gaps between my armor while I couldn’t even put a scratch on her. Troll Hide let me keep fighting even when I should have gone down but she always found a way to trip me up and put her sword to my throat. I continued to learn more and more from her. Sword moves that would have been considered wild and impractical in real life and would have only been shown in a video game were actually viable when you were superhuman.
It was the same with Guinevere back on my world if she had just been a normal woman it wouldn’t have mattered how skilled she was as a man I would have been physically stronger and superior to her in a fight. My bones and muscles would have been denser, and I would be able to easily over power her but here it didn’t matter your gender, all that mattered was power. Get enough abilities and raise your attributes and a farmer could overthrow a king. In a way that made this world more egalitarian than my own. Of course, it wasn’t that simple, the powerful had dungeons they horded and used to farm power so farmer or soldier would ever be able to rise above them.
Perhaps that’s what the magi really fought against. The ability of a few to control and determine how power was distributed to others. I didn’t think that goal was possible, but I supposed I could admire for them trying to accomplish their goal.
Our training ended and I went back to trying to get the Lighting Blade spell into an enchantment. Every prototype I made I thought I had it and every time as soon as it was finished cracks began to start forming and I had to throw it out past the barrier before it evaporated me into red mist. Today wasn’t any different resulting in another five failed attempts. My only hope was that the more I learned with each failure I was getting closer to a useful result.
I trained again with Guinevere. She danced around me, my reactions slowed by my having Heightened Speed and Foresight turned off, but I still managed to block around half her attacks. I was getting better at using the technique of using leverage and angles to absorb and require as little force as possible to redirect and counter attacks. I still ended up on my back as Guinevere wrapped one of her legs around mine and rammed me in the chest with her shoulder.
Helping me up she and I went to the pedestal. I took Guinevere’s hand feeling a tremble running through her body. Placing out hands into the magical scanner our minds went dark.
--
We made it passed my memories and Guinevere’s although I still felt her tremble with fear as she was forced to be alone in the dark again. The memory ended and a new one began to play.
The smack ran out through the house and I winced hiding under my covers. My mother and fathers voices screaming at each other in the other room was distorted by the walls. It went on for half an hour before the flashing blue and red lights of sirens shone through my bedroom windows of our ground floor apartment. Knocking at our door came then the usual the cops spoke with my mother.
I cracked open the door and watched, listening to my mother as she defended my father.
“I’m sorry for the disturbance…” she said.
Form where I was I couldn’t hear what they said.
“No… no….” my mother said. “I just tripped….”
Eventually the police left. My father stormed out of the house and I stepped out of my room going over to my mother who was sitting in the kitchen her back pressed up against the fridge her body shaking.
“Are you ok mom?” I asked touching her face.
“I’m fine baby,” she said taking my hand and kissing it pulling me into a hug.
Wrapping my arms around her I smelled her hair the sweet smell of flowers filling my nose. Her soft arms cradled me as she rocked me against her chest.
“Its ok Mordred,” she said. “We’re going to be ok.”
“One day I’ll be strong enough to protect you mom,” I said.
“I just need you Mordred,” my mom said. “That’s enough.”
The memory ended. A new memory of mine began the moment it began I pulled back my hand. My chest heaved and Guinevere looked at me.
“I can’t do this,” I said.
“Why?” Guinevere asked.
“I can’t show… you can’t see….” Unable to explain or put to words my shame I let go of her hand turning my back on her and fled.
What was that memory? Karnen asked. I can’t see it, its like its locked in a safe.
“Its my greatest failure,” I said.
You’ve shown her your pain and anger before, Voidra said. What makes this memory different?
“Because this is when I became a monster,” I said. “She’s finally accepted me as a person… a human. If I show her what’s there… she’ll realize she was right about me, that I am the monster that the Warlord is in her histories.”
You can’t know what her reaction will be, Karnen argued.
“How else could anyone react?” I asked.
But… Voidra argued but I cut her off.
“Enough!” I snarled. “I can’t… I won’t continue. Don’t bring this up again.”
--
Guinevere continued to train me, and I continued to try and create the lighting blade enchantment, but I felt myself slipping. My frustration was growing with every failed enchantment or failure to beat Guinevere in a duel. As my frustration grew, my failures grew, my enchantments became more sporadic, and I couldn’t focus on them. My swordplay became sloppier, and Guinevere beat me more easily.
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Days turned to weeks as we remained trapped on the island. I found myself trapped not only physically but mentally, my progress stagnated, unable to improve myself in any way. The pedestal sat their as if it were mocking me and I grew to hate it.
Several months passed like this. The time for the Event the system had invited me too was passed and the knowledge that I had missed out only added to my frustration and anger.
Guinevere found me one night. I had stopped sleeping in the hut instead of sitting in mediation under the only waterfall on the island fed from a spring somewhere inside the tower. The water fell down on my head like ice the only way I could feel anything thanks to the heat of magma hearts burning in my chest. She didn’t say anything, just sat down on a rock across from me.
You need to let her know, Voidra said. If your going to trap her underground with you for the rest of your lives you at least need to explain why.
No, I growled back at her.
Yes, Karnen insisted agreeing with Voidra for one of the only times in his life. This is destroying you.
I won’t, this is the end of this discussion, I snapped back at them.
If you won’t do it willingly then you’ve forced our hand, Voidra said.
Her words chilled me. My eyes snapped open as a hand of pure dark matter reached out from my torso and held its hand out to Guinevere it was followed by another formed of crimson red energy. She reeled back in shock at seeing the appendage, she had been unconscious when I had created the ability.
“What is that?” Guinevere asked in horror and fascination.
Remember, Karnen said. She hates lying.
I grit my teeth together, but I had to answer. “Her name is Voidra,” I said.
“Her?” Guinevere asked.
“She is a spirit of the Void,” I explained. “I died in a battle; afterwards I dangled in the Void at the edge of death, another spirit who fled into my soul after I defeated him helped to pull me back from the brink. But it was the entities of the Void who let me escape in exchange for becoming a host for their…daughter.”
Guinevere was silenced by my revelation. “Are they…friendly?”
That actually made me laugh. “I would have to say no,” I said. “Karnen was a wraith before I defeated him he is still driven by his need for vengeance. Voidra feeds off the emotions of others especially those created by suffering and death.”
“I… see,” Guinevere said slowly. “Why reveal them to me?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “They decided to show themselves.”
“Why would they do that?” Guinevere asked.
“Because they think I need to talk to you about… why I can’t continue,” I said again struggling to find the words.
Guinevere took my hands in hers, her touch surprised me, but I didn’t pull back. “Whatever you have to say, say it,” she said. “We’re going to be here with each other for a long time if we don’t get through that barrier so you might as well tell me. Otherwise, this is just going to hang between us like a drawn sword.”
Meeting her eyes I drew in a breath. “I tried to kill my father,” I said.
Guinevere didn’t pull away as I let out the confession. “I can tell by the way you talked about him you hate him,” Guinevere said. “But why is this so hard for you to tell me?”
“That the things,” I said with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve told practically every other person I’ve met on your world that since I got here. I try to convince them and myself that I don’t feel any shame for it that my only regret isn’t finishing the job. I even took the name of a man whose most famous deed was killing his own father to take the throne from him.”
Guinevere remained silent continuing to hold my hands and let me explain.
“But I do feel shame,” I admitted. “I am the monster that tried to kill his own father. The more I try to run from the shame to push away the guilt and revel in my sin the greater my shame becomes.”
“Then its time to stop running,” Guinevere said softly. “I’m not going to run from you Mordred. Show me.”
We placed our hands on the pedestal. Guinevere’s fingers were cool on my skin as she squeezed my hand. Then our minds went dark as we were drawn into my darkest memory.
The slamming of the door and crashing as the painting fell off the wall again. I winced hearing my father stumble down the hall.
“Ellen!” my father’s voice rang out, the anger evident in his drunken slur.
Pushing myself out of bed I reached under the pillow. My small child’s fingers were wrapped around the handle of a kitchen knife.
I winced hearing my father’s foot collide with the door. I stepped out into the hall walking towards my parent’s room. I heard the stinging slap as my father hit mom. My heart was beating so loud I couldn’t even hear my father’s words or my mom’s soft attempts to calm him down. Stepping into the darkness of the room I saw mom in the corner my father standing over her.
My anger rose up and I charged forward forgetting my fear. I slashed out with the knife a deep savagery rising in me a scream tearing from my throat as I attacked like a beast. Crimson sprayed out. A scream of pain and anger filled the air, I slashed out again in a mad frenzy. Then my head was spinning as I knocked against the wall.
Soon flashing lights were shining through the window dancing along the walls. The wail of a siren filled the air. Officers pulled me away as my mother held my father’s stomach closed.
“What’s wrong with you Mordred?” her words kept running through my ears over and over.
Time passed in a blur. The courtrooms, lawyers, child protective services. It was decided that I couldn’t be placed in the same home as my father. My mother had the choice between staying with him or cutting off contact and retaining custody of me. She chose him.
That old pain rose up, I’d buried it down, but it had never healed. I’d tried to save her in the only way I’d been able to think of. My mother had rejected me, she saw me as the monster not him. I bounced around foster home to foster home the memories of families trying to take me in but the pain had turned to anger. I lashed out at everyone and everything getting into violent fights leaving other kids bleeding even if I always ended up as bruised and bleeding as them.
Eventually, I was left alone, I was mandated to go to therapy. There I was told to let go of my anger, that it was poisoning me. It was time to forgive I was told, but I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. They tried to fix me but I didn’t need fixing. I buried the shame and from it grew only more anger and the need to destroy. My anger was justified and I wouldn’t give up or forgive what had been done to me and taken from me.
The memory ended and I pulled back my hand ready to see the look of condemnation in Guinevere’s eyes. Instead, I felt her arms wrap around me as she hugged me.
“I’m sorry Mordred,” she said.
Her words froze me in place, the lack of disgust or fear in her paralyzing me. Eventually I returned to the embrace the comfort of a another human’s touch who knew my darkest secret and didn’t reject me a balm I couldn’t put any price on.
---
“We’re ready,” Jamis said.
His gauntlets were still stained with the wyvern’s blood. This had been their fifth time running this dungeon each time they had done better and now could take down the wyvern boss with no difficulty. They were each Veteran rank, while Exar’kun had likely reached the beginning of Hero rank they were a full party and prepared to face him.
Mira had a quiver full of arrows specially designed for killing dragons. Felrick had an enchanted dragon slaying sword and they had purchased dozens of fire and curse resistance potions. They could train more but the dragon was also growing stronger, and it was only a matter of time before it was confident enough to roam outside the bounds of the Cursed Forest in search of prey.
“We weren’t able to rescue my cousin,” Helen said. “But after this we’ll track down the bandits who still have her and bring her home.”
“We should give a name to our group,” Torvin said.
“Not this again,” Mira said rolling her eyes.
“I agree with Torvin,” Jamis said. “How are the bards going to address us if we don’t have a name.”
“What are your suggestions this time?” Helen asked. “And if I hear word horse or calvary in any more of your suggestions I’m kicking you from the group.”
“I’ve got a suggestion,” Atrel said. “You are the champions of the gods of Law, the Heaven’s Scales.”
“And when we slay a dragon it will fit us even more,” Jamis said with a raucous laugh clapping the dragon myrmidon on the back. “I love it!”
“I don’t hate it,” Mira sighed.
“That’s probably the best we’re going to get,” Felrick said looking to Helen.
“Fine we have a team name,” Helen said. “Are you happy now Torvin?”
“Of course,” Torvin agreed fist bumping Jamis. “When do we head out, I’ve been getting a bit bored running the same dungeons over and over the past ten months.”
“We’ll ride out tomorrow,” Helen said. “It’s a long way to the Blighted Swamp.”