Chapter 3.18 — The Monster Maze

Who am I? I answered that question early in life. I’m a healer. I care for people who need to be cared for. This is my core identity. It’s not as easy for some people.

Many dance through different experiences, trying to find an identity that fits them. Some people never settle. I don’t envy them.

Nor do I envy the people who have more than one calling that they pursue with equal fervor. I can’t imagine that particular hell. I have enough trouble enduring the one I’ve chosen.

                                                                                                Excerpt from the Journal of the Emissary

 

Fourth of Striving 1142, Early Afternoon (Three days ago)

Borin moved silently along the corridor, eyes everywhere. He was searching for traps, which seemed to make Ressssen happy. At least she looked more relaxed. As for himself, Borin was excited. This was his first dungeon. He’d read so much about them and, finally, he had a chance to experience one.

Not that it was immediately exciting. It was just a maze of corridors that would have been easy to get lost in if he didn’t remember every turn perfectly. That was a good thing too, because every direction looked the same. There were sounds in the distance at various points, grunts, growls, what sounded like claws scratching stone, but they saw nothing other than stone corridors, some with intersections, some that turned, some that were dead ends, requiring them to backtrack.

Searching for traps slowed the process down, but he knew it was important so he kept doing it. And since Ressssen didn’t say anything, he assumed he was doing it right. He had a lot of book knowledge about dungeons, but she’d been in several. She was experienced. Borin knew that reading about something was not the same as living it, so he would defer to her judgment should she have cause to correct him. He was, after all, very young compared to everyone in the misfits, and he couldn’t assume that anything he knew was correct. He had so much to learn.

Such were his thoughts when he turned the corner and saw, for the first time in his life, a taladara. He’d read about them of course, but seeing one in the flesh was completely different. Tall, so thin that the word was barely adequate. Gaunt was better. Hands like rakes, each bony finger ending in a long, sharp talon. An elongated head that looked a bit like a trodara head might, if someone had put it in a vise and stretched it out. It didn’t really have a snout. It looked like a mining pick with eyes. Like trodara, it was black with green eyes, and its mouth, though small and thin, shared the same sharp yellow teeth that all dara-class creatures possessed.

Both he and Ressssen had paused when it came into view.

“Should we turn around?” he whispered.

Ressssen didn’t answer right away. He didn’t expect her to. They weren’t in immediate danger and she often thought things through when she had the time to do so. Finally, she spoke.

“No. This is not the kind of creature I’d prefer to leave alive at my back. Taladara are vicious.”

The fact didn’t come as a revelation. In fact, it was common knowledge. But it didn’t change the fact that Borin would soon be fighting a taladara without Garne there holding the line. Or Striker grabbing its attention with arrows. Or Dreek shifting out of phase to keep it distracted. This was the back line, as the Adventurer’s Guild called it. A mage and a healer. The ones who needed protection.

“How should we handle it?”

“I have few offensive spells,” said Ressssen, “but few is not the same as none. And I have Ice Storm to slow it. Ice Storm is still a long cast from me, but I believe I can cast it. If it works, it will slow it, and damage it at the same time.”

Borin drew his short sword. It felt strange in his hand. Not that he’d never practiced with it, but he couldn’t remember ever being in a situation where he’d needed to. Perhaps, after this battle, he would have a better understanding of what Garne felt when he fought.

Ressssen was already casting as they drew closer. He remained silent so as not to interrupt her. She had already removed a scepter from her voluminous cloak and now held it ready. She seemed so calm to him. So controlled. Borin himself was vibrating with excitement. He was finally going to experience what it was like to be on the front line.

Then she was done and the small ice storm, only about ten feet across, moved away from her and toward the taladara. It stood at an intersection in the corridor, at the moment facing away from them. By the time it turned, the storm was on it. Borin had expected it to be confused by the storm but it wasn’t. Instead, it seemed to look for what had cast it. Then it came straight for them.

Taladara were normally fast, but the storm slowed it, freezing its joints, giving Ressssen time to get off several shots with her scepter. Tiny blue balls of magical energy emerged from the scepter’s tip, sailed through the air and struck the creature, mostly in the chest. That was good aim. It must be hard to hit something that thin from that distance.

Borin waited. He was anxious to get to battle, but he wasn’t about to charge in alone either. Alone was how adventurers died, and he was too young to die. That said, he was probably too young to be in a dungeon too.

The ice storm was fading already, sooner than Borin had hoped. Ressssen was casting again, a buff he recognized this time that covered both of them. Then it was on them and he had no more time for reflection. Borin raised his sword and stepped between the taladara and Ressssen.

Close up, the creature was taller than it had looked at a distance. It towered over him. Its arms, skeletally thin, widened into those clawed hands, the biggest threat the creature boasted. Borin stepped inside the range of those hands, ready to strike. He wasn’t close enough to reach the body. He had to wait till it attacked and go for one of the hands or perhaps an arm. Disarming it seemed like a better solution than trying to kill it outright. And Ressssen was still pelting its body with small magic orbs.

“Careful,” said Ressssen, unnecessarily.

Borin didn’t answer. The creature was less interested in him than it was with Ressssen, who was not only higher level but also much bigger. Borin had to change that if he were to fill the role of the front line. He took a step closer and swiped at the creature’s wrist. He hit his target, but he didn’t seem to penetrate far. Well, he wasn’t swinging as hard as he could. He just wanted the creature’s attention—which he now had.

The taladara jerked its arm away but brought the other one into play at the same time, swiping down at Borin with an alarming speed. Borin shifted his sword to the right, hitting the creature on its forearm, causing it to growl in pain or anger. Still, it pulled its hand away again.

Ressssen was casting again, a spell Borin didn’t recognize. Then a giant ball of ice formed in the air above it and fell straight down on its head. As soon as it struck, it shattered into tiny slivers that embedded themselves into its body. Borin used the opportunity to lunge forward, striking at its stomach with as much strength as he could manage. He knew he was overextending and opening himself up to attack, but he thought the new attack would distract it long enough to take the risk. He was right. His sword bit deep and it screamed, or at least, it sounded something like a scream.

It tried to retreat then, but it was too late. Ressssen’s second ice ball dropped on it, and it fell to the ground.

Borin closed the distance and struck at its neck several times, until it stopped moving completely. Only then did Ressssen approach and pull him back.

“Careful…not everything that looks dead is dead.”

Borin nodded. He’d seen spiders play dead and then just flip over and continue on their way, so it wasn’t news to him. But the taladara was actually dead, leaving before them a now unguarded three-way intersection.

“We should go right,” said Borin.

“Very well,” said Ressssen.

Her trust in him thrilled him in a way little else did. Borin had never before made decisions for anyone but himself. Even then, he mostly did what he was told. This was a new experience for him.

More corridors, more intersections. No indication of where they were, because the walls and floors were featureless. They could have been walking through the same corridor over and over again, and they’d have no way of knowing. Which brought to mind a question.

“Ressssen, I’ve heard of confusion spells that can change your direction.”

The serpent lord nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve been scanning for magic regularly. While there is magic nearby, we’re not seeing it where we are.”

Borin was about to answer when they hit a corner and ahead of them was a creature he’d never seen before. It was short, squat, fat. It had a mouth as wide as a frog’s, two huge eyes that protruded from the top of its skull, and a body that looked like it had been squashed to fit inside a box. Its skin was purplish, oozing and bubbling occasionally. Even from this distance they could smell it—whatever it was.

Ressssen leaned close and whispered. “That’s a demonling.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not necessarily bad. Some demonlings are more powerful than others. It might be able to talk, which means we might be able to bargain our way past it.”

“If we can’t do that, what do you think our odds of killing it are?”

Ressssen shrugged. Seeing the human gesture on her always felt surreal to him. “There’s no way to know, because their power range is so variable.”

“So negotiate first?”

“If we can, yes. Keep your sword ready, though, just in case.”

They closed the distance, Ressssen in the lead this time. As they drew closer, the smell grew stronger… more cloying. The creature smelled of decay and pestilence. If Ressssen was at all bothered by it, she didn’t show it.

“Greetings, demonling.”

“That’s not my name.”

“I don’t know your name.”

“And you didn’t bother to learn it, did you? Rude. I won’t talk to you anymore.” 

“We’d like to pass.”

The demonling didn’t speak.

“Will you not bargain with us?”

“I will not bargain with you. Hopefully, your companion is more polite than you are.”

Ressssen stepped back. She didn’t speak but she didn’t have to. Borin understood she was moving aside so he could try.

“Hello. I’m Borin. What’s your name?”

“Ah,” said the demonling. “This is how you begin a proper conversation. My name is Morgan J. Gregory III.”

“The third? There are three of you?”

“No… there are four of us.”

“I see. And are you enjoying yourself?”

The creature looked astonished. “Enjoying myself? Why would I…do you have any idea why I’m here?”

“Ummm…no?”

“I was summoned here to guard this intersection. None may pass without my approval.”

“Oh. Would you let us pass, then?”

“Maybe. What do you have to trade?”

“Trade?”

“You don’t expect me to let you pass without payment, do you? I’m a demonling, not a philanthropist.”

“Oh. Well what do you want?”

The demonling chuckled. “You’re not very experienced, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“You shouldn’t admit that. It makes it easier for me to take advantage of you.”

“But you seem nice.”

The demonling started choking. “Nice? You’re having a laugh.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t think you want to hurt me.”

“It’s my job to hurt you.”

“Oh. Do you get satisfaction from doing your job well?”

The demonling didn’t answer right away. Perhaps it was thinking about it, but it was hard to tell. “No, not exactly. It’s just what I’ve been told to do by the being that summoned me.”

“Your boss?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you like your boss?”

“No. No, I hate my boss. You can relate to that, can’t you?”

Borin thought about it. “No. I follow Ressssen, and she’s treated me very well. I’m quite happy in my position with the Misfits of Karmenon.”

The demon laughed bitterly. “How very nice for you. But surely you can’t always be happy.”

“I’m almost always happy.”

“Fine, you want to pass, I’ll allow it. But I want a story.”

“A story?”

“Yes. A true story. I want you to speak of your anger. Your rage.”

Borin didn’t speak for a long time. “I don’t like to talk about that.”

“That’s why it has value. You want to pass, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

Borin looked hesitant, then, softly, he began speaking.

“When I first joined the Misfits of Karmenon, that’s my guild team, I was new to relationships. I had, prior to that, lived with a mage who experimented on me and taught me things, but maintained what he had called a professional distance from me. I had never really interacted with anyone before that, and afterward, I went to the Adventurer’s Guild, as many of my kind do, to try to find a guild.

“It was terribly exciting. All those people, all talking and joking and exchanging ideas. I didn’t understand a lot of what I heard. The Misfits had been looking for a healer, but I didn’t know that. Dreek was the one who found me and brought me over to Ressssen. But Garne was there too. I was trying to make a good impression, but Garne kept interrupting me and making, what I felt, were rude comments. I thought he was intentionally ruining my chance to get onto his team. I didn’t understand why. He didn’t even know me.

“It went on for a long time, until finally I had had enough and, for the first time in my life, I experienced anger. But I had no experience controlling my anger. It was the first time I’d ever felt it, so it came out harsher than I thought it would.”

Borin stopped and dropped his head.

“What happened?”

“I attacked him.”

The demonling broke out laughing. “You attacked Garne? What was he? What class?”

“He was a Warrior. I didn’t manage to do any damage and he beat me quite thoroughly. I healed myself right after, and Ressssen asked me why I had done what I’d done, so I told her.

“She explained to me that that was how Garne was, and that he didn’t mean anything by it and no one took him seriously when he acted like that. I didn’t understand. But she also agreed with me that he was out of line and invited me to join the team based on how well I’d healed myself.”

“And what did Garne have to say about that?”

“Nothing. He seemed impressed that I attacked him and was very nice to me after.”

The demonling growled. “That’s a terrible end to that story.”

“Perhaps. But I did pay your price.”

“So you did. Very well, you can pass. But should I see you again, I won’t go so easy on you.”

Borin nodded and started past him but suddenly stopped and turned. “I hope you find better days ahead, Morgan.”

Then he continued walking, leaving behind a sputtering and baffled demonling. Ressssen followed, chuckle-hissing, which is the way serpent lords laugh.

“I never get tired of that story,” she said.

Borin looked surprised. “Really? Would you like me to tell it to you again?”

Ressssen laughed again. “No, Borin, that’s all right. Just be a good salad and keep navigating. I need time to recover from that conversation.”

*

Seventh of Striving 1142, Mid-Morning

Treya’s party had left Rish through the northern gate. Treya wore a cloak with the hood up and kept her head lowered. No one looked twice at her. After all, guards were more interested in who was entering the city than who was leaving. Queen Rhea also kept her head down, as did Gallen, though everyone on the wall would have already heard of his pardon.

By contrast, Bess (the Undead Queen’s Emissary of all things), Jerish and Lord Ormund made no attempt to disguise themselves. Ormund in particular was known in Rish, and his presence did much to distract the guards from looking at the rest of the party. Everyone knew he’d been soul damaged and recently healed by the queen herself. But no one expected him to be leaving the city. The attention on the mage allowed both queens to escape the city undetected.

Rhea didn’t lower her hood until she was well away from the city, even though she felt hot. Safety before comfort. Even after she lowered her hood, she remained uncomfortable, casting a glance back at Treya, who had already lowered hers. She was still glowing. It would be hard to hide her presence at all, and Rhea still didn’t know what it meant. Rhea could tolerate a lot of things, but not knowing wasn’t one of them.

Queen Rhea cast one of the very few spells she had learned—Detect Class, Level and Tether. It was an odd pairing. Most spells detected only one of the trio, but Rhea had been gifted one that detected them all. It took her ages to memorize it and then far longer to learn to cast it, because she really did find learning magic distasteful. After all, magic had hurt her mother terribly and cost Rhea the childhood she should have had. But she had learned, because Eltz, the high priest of Mitra in Trilsk, had presented it to her as a gift, and she didn’t want to insult him. Well, that and because it was damned useful—except now.

For the first time in her experience, the spell had not worked. No, that wasn’t right. She could feel it working, it had simply returned no information. That had never happened before. She’d used it surreptitiously when she’d first arrived in Rish—on both Terrence and Treya. Terrence had been a Level 19 Warrior tethered to Sheba, and Treya had been Level 12, also a Warrior. Rhea was higher level than Treya and couldn’t imagine that Treya had somehow out-leveled her in the short time she’d been there. So her spell should have read her class, her level and her tether. Instead, she was left with a mystery she had no way to solve.

She was certain Treya had told Lady Trast and Lady Mere what had happened to her. She had thought she was family—Treya had said as much—yet she was being kept in the dark. She considered confronting Treya but decided against it. Instead, she prayed to Mitra, the goddess of lore—her goddess. Perhaps, this was information she needed, after all.

She rode far enough from the others, so they couldn’t hear her whispered conversation. Though she knew she could simply think what she wanted to say, she always preferred to actually speak when praying.

“Dear Mitra, please, quench my thirst for knowledge. I am on a quest with Queen Treya, who has changed, yet she has not told me how. Will not having this information put me in danger?”

Mitra’s voice appeared in her head. Whether or not it will impact your journey, no one can say for sure, but of a certainty, you should have this information. However, I am reluctant to provide it.

“Why?” asked Rhea, truly perplexed.

Because I would not wish to offend Queen Treya. This is her secret to tell. Have you asked her about it?

“You know I haven’t.”

Mitra smiled. Even after all this time, Rhea was bemused that the gods could have facial expressions without faces. It unnerved her every time—which Mitra also knew.

“You’re annoyed that I asked you without asking Queen Treya first.”

I’m surprised at least. This isn’t like you, Rhea.

“You’re right, of course. It’s not. But I was thrown by my spell not working. Can you at least tell me why it didn’t work?”

Mitra laughed. It worked perfectly, Rhea.

“But it didn’t say anything.”

That’s true. Which doesn’t make what I said false.
 
Rhea thought about that for a long time, but could make no sense of it. So she maneuvered her mount until she rode side by side with the queen, wondering how to approach the subject. Normally she’d have been circumspect, but this was Treya and the entire situation annoyed her.

“Okay, spill.”

Treya looked at her, eyebrows arching. “I beg your pardon?”

“Treya, we’re on our way to Xarinos, you’re still glowing, clearly something happened and, for some reason, you’ve decided to keep me in the dark. I thought we were friends.”

Treya’s gaze softened instantly. “Oh Rhea, we are friends. This isn’t about you, it’s about me. I’m trying to come to terms with something difficult to accept.”

Rhea was taken aback. It wasn’t the answer she expected. “Then let me help, Trey. It’s what friends are for. I haven’t known you as long as Lady Trast or Lady Mere, but I’m here and they’re not. You can trust me.”

“Of course I trust you. Let’s let the others pull ahead a bit.”

Rhea nodded and slowed her mount. The others continued forward, far enough to be out of earshot for a whispered conversation, but not far enough to leave the two queens exposed.

“So?” asked Rhea.

Treya looked resigned. “There’s no easy way to say this, Rhea.”

“You don’t have to pull punches with me, Treya. I’m a big girl.”

“You don’t understand, hon. This is huge. Nothing I say will prepare you for it. Nothing can prepare me for it.”

“Okay, you’re scaring me now. Just say it.”

“Okay. I accidentally tethered five gods. I’m a godling now. The sixth sibling god, if the others are to be believed.”

Rhea froze in the saddle. “Can you repeat that?”

Treya smiled wanly. “No. It was hard enough to say the first time.”

Rhea didn’t answer right away. No part of that made sense in any language she spoke. Humans can’t tether anyone, much less gods. Humans can’t become gods. Only gods can create other gods. No… this wasn’t possible.

“Mitra, hear me. Please, can you explain this?”

Mitra chuckled, as if she’d been there all along which, of course, was the case. No, my child. I can’t explain it any more than you or Treya can, which doesn’t stop it from being true.

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

Treya cut in. “Can you understand now why I didn’t say anything? I don’t want this to change your behavior toward me.”

“Treya, you’re a god…”

“A godling anyway.”

“A godling then. How am I supposed to… wait, what are you god of?”

“Resilience. I got it by stealing aspects from the other five.”

“But how?”

“When Gallen slit my throat, I cast out desperately with my soul and clung to whatever I could hold onto. The gods were there, linked, leveling me at that moment, filling me with divine energy.”

“But how did you know how to tether?”

“Iorana taught me, when I was merging Queen Raven’s soul with Lord Ormund’s. I wouldn’t have been able to move your mother’s soul if I didn’t possess it, however briefly.”

Rhea didn’t speak. So, Treya had learned how to tether, had used it in the soul merging process, an event she hadn’t spent a lot of time asking about, considering that event had taken her mother’s life. Then days later, at the moment of imminent death, while filled with divine energy, Treya lashed out and used that knowledge to survive. It sounded impossible, but Mitra had confirmed it. She not only tethered the gods, but stole an aspect from each of them. Treya, the goddess of resilience, rode beside her and asked her to treat her like the friend she’d only recently become. How did that work exactly?

“Treya, I haven’t asked you this, but how do you know you can trust Gallen?”

“I tethered him. He’s my first worshiper.”

Rhea swallowed. That, more than anything else, made it real. “You tethered him.”

“Yes.”

“Trey, this is crazy. Humans don’t become gods.”

“I know. I didn’t plan it, it just sort of… happened. I’m just as mystified as you.”

“Yes, I would imagine. Okay, you clearly need a friend. I’m here for you, Treya. If you want me to treat you like I did before, I’ll try. But you have to tell me if I’m overstepping. I can act the way I’ve been acting, and I’m okay with that if you are. But if it stops being the case, don’t wait to tell me, okay?”

Treya sagged with relief. Rhea could see it on her face. “Thank you.”

“So who knows?”

“Gallen of course, Trast and Mere, the five sibling gods, and I would wager Ormund knows too.”

“I think we should tell Jerish and Bess. Otherwise they’re the only members of the party left out of the loop.”

“You trust him?”

“Mitra does.”

“Very well.” Treya raised her voice. “Jerish, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Jerish didn’t wait for the queens to catch up. He wheeled his horse and galloped back. “Your majesty?”

“Technically a demotion,” whispered Rhea.

Treya laughed. “You want to tell him?”

“Yeah,” said Rhea, “you go catch up to the others. I think Jerish should hear this from me.”

Treya nodded and galloped ahead, still looking relieved.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a new god in town and you’re riding with her.”

Jerish’s astonishment somehow made the whole morning better.