Chapter 3.20 — Important Work

We all have different skills and abilities. Some of those skills are pure benefit, some come with drawbacks. Being able to see the big picture often means you miss details. It doesn’t mean seeing the big picture isn’t important.

I have found in life that even people you’re certain have no redeeming characteristics can often do one thing you can’t. I once had a sister, back when I was human, who could bend her thumb backwards until it touched her wrist without experiencing any pain. Until I studied medicine on Earth, I had never even heard the term double-jointed. I had just thought my sister was possessed.

Given the rest of her behavior, I still can’t rule that out.

                                                                                                 Excerpt from the Journal of the Emissary

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

Garne stood and watched Dreek with a critical eye. Thorough was the word that came to mind. After figuring out he couldn’t open the door, Dreek made his way slowly and carefully over a series of pressure plates, moving with the type of precision Garne wouldn’t even try to emulate. He didn’t understand the phase-shifter’s thinking, nor did he have to. Dreek knew what he was doing, and that was all that mattered.

Dreek had also told him to stay put so he didn’t trigger any traps, which was smart. Garne knew that. He knew it during the first fifteen minutes of his wait, standing on a flagstone in the middle of a stone room with a single door that wouldn’t budge. He knew it during the second fifteen minutes. After the third fifteen minutes, he started thinking about how bored he was. But Dreek was right. Triggering pressure plates could lead to consequences they could ill afford. For another fifteen minutes he continued to watch Dreek, then turned his attention to the door Dreek had been unable to open.

Garne knew Dreek was strong, but Garne was stronger. And heavier. Maybe Dreek simply hadn’t had the weight to trigger the pressure plate. There was only one way to find out.

He waited until Dreek wasn’t facing him before using Tremendous Leap. He’d recently made gains in it, but hadn’t had the chance to really test it. He did now, almost clearing all the flagstones between the center stone he’d been standing on and the door—almost, but not quite.

He landed on a flagstone and held his breath. Behind him, Dreek cursed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He turned and watched as Dreek stood in the middle of a number of spears that had emerged from the ground. They’d have killed Dreek outright if he hadn’t been phase shifted.

“Sorry,” said Garne. “I got bored.”

“You realize you’d have killed anyone else in the party.”

Garne sobered immediately. “Yes. I realize that.”

“Then sorry doesn’t really cut it, does it? Not unless you think apologizing to a corpse matters. What if I’d been corporeal when that trap triggered?”

“Have you triggered a trap yet?”

Dreek paused. “…no.”

“And the trap I triggered didn’t target me. It targeted you. So maybe traps only trigger when someone else triggers them, but they affect the other person.”

Dreek stopped and stared at Garne. “That’s brilliant. I’ve never heard of a trap like that.”

“I’m smarter than I look.”

Dreek nodded matter-of-factly. “You’d have to be.”

Garne bristled but didn’t say anything. Dreek did. “Look, just stay put. Let me finish checking the room.”

“But your investigation has led to nothing. At least let me take a look at the door.”

Dreek sighed like a human. “Fine.”

Garne turned his back to Dreek and faced the door again. He was close. Another leap took him the rest of the way. He landed, intentionally, between flagstones, right in front of the door. He tried it. It didn’t budge. He backed up and stood on the flagstone to the side of it, as he had seen Dreek do. This time, the door swung open and vanished completely.

“What in the name of Sheba!”

He looked up and down the wall, but the door was gone.

“The door’s moved,” said Dreek, calm as ever.

“What do you mean…” But Garne had already turned around and saw it. The door was now in the center of the opposite wall.

“Do me a favor. Step off that flagstone.”

Garne complied and the door returned to the wall in front of him.

“Right, stay on the flagstone. I want to see what happens if I reach that door.”

Garne grunted, annoyed. He’d traded one flagstone prison for another, and had almost killed Dreek in the process. He knew he was reckless and really didn’t mind being so when only he was affected, but Garne never wanted to put anyone else in danger. He’d have to be more careful moving forward.

He watched as Dreek made his way slowly to the door, but no further traps were triggered. When Dreek tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. Then he stepped on the pressure plate beside it and pulled.

The door swung open and vanished, appearing instead on the wall to Garne’s right.

“Well, that’s annoying.”

Dreek stepped off his plate and the door was back in front of him. He stepped back on the plate and the door was back on the other wall.

“Garne, step off your plate.”

Garne complied and the door on the right wall remained where it was.

“Looks like you’re up,” said Dreek. “You need to make your way to the door and open it. Presumably, it will move again, and if you stay on the pressure plate, I’ll be able to get to it. This is a great puzzle.”

“Yep. And you wouldn’t have found it if I didn’t try to open the door.”

“That’s true, but if you’d said something, I could have prepared myself. It’s not about trying things, Garne, it’s about communicating.”

“You’re right. I’ll do better.”

Dreek shrugged. Garne made his way to the other door, using his leap skill twice. When he got there, he tried opening it, and it was as stuck as the other had been. Then he stepped onto the flagstone trigger and pulled. As expected, the door appeared on the wall opposite him, the one that had been on his left before he’d changed position.

“This is annoying as hell.”

Dreek nodded. “You’re not wrong. But if this is the type of thing we have to deal with, I’m okay with that, because there are worse options.”

Garne had to admit that Dreek was spot on. This wasn’t his first dungeon, nor his second, nor even his third. He tried to count how many dungeons he’d been in, but couldn’t, not because it was some ridiculously high number, but because his memory of his life before the Misfits of Karmenon felt more like a dream that had happened to someone else. Most of those memories were hazy half-memories, except one, and that one was too painful to revisit. Garne shook himself and, to give himself something else to think about, refocused on Dreek.

The phase-shifter made his way to the door, stood on the flagstone and pulled it open. Again the room changed, this time, creating a door in the center of each wall.

Garne growled. “This place is playing with us.”

Dreek didn’t get a chance to respond because at that moment, all four doors opened and creatures emerged from each the likes of which Garne had never seen.

Seventh of Striving 1142, Late Afternoon

Koth the Mighty stood on a crate on the back of a cart, trying to get a look at High King Terrence as he rode into the camp proper. His friends had named him Koth the Mighty sarcastically at the beginning of the Undead War, because they were all bigger than him. Koth had gone on to be one of the lesser heroes of the war, known not just for his great personal skill in combat, but his ability to pass that knowledge onto others. This was the kind of man Sheba loved most, and it came as no surprise to anyone that he was one of the god-touched.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. It came as a complete surprise to him. Because Koth hadn’t been trying to impress Sheba. He was just trying to be better. That was what was important to him. How he could improve himself over the course of time.

He saw Terrence even before he thought he would because the High King was still glowing from when he had become the voice of Sheba. Perhaps he would never stop glowing. Everyone knew what level flare was, but Koth had never heard of permanent level flare. If it wasn’t that then what was it? A priest of Sheba he trusted told him it was probably just more divine energy than most people could hold and that the reason High King Terrence could hold it was that he was descended from Arimen on both sides. Koth had mentioned that seemed unlikely. The priest had laughed at him.

Apparently, Arimen, after his failed relationship with Sylinar, had returned to Thysandrika and made up for lost time by sleeping with anyone who’d have him. Considering he was the father of the gods and a well-built good-looking man, that list was pretty long. It was hard to imagine that a high-level immortal warrior who never aged, looked amazing and fathered the gods would have trouble getting laid. So maybe being descended from Arimen was common enough, but even then, on both sides? That felt like a stretch.

Still, High King Terrence was here, he was still glowing and he was going to lead them to battle. Koth was in charge of the entire Karmenon Army, and had waited back at the camp rather than riding out to meet the high king. This was his place, after all. Keeping an eye on things.

The boy in him would have loved to ride out and meet the king, but it was irresponsible. This is where the high king would end up, and he’d have plenty of time to talk to him when he got here.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Terrence’s advance guard of about a dozen men rode in behind him. He’d been so focused on Terrence he’d missed the man beside him.

“Shin! It’s been ages.”

“Hello, Koth. This is High King Terrence, if you didn’t know from the fact that he’s glowing. Probably something he ate.”

Koth raised his eyebrows, but Terrence just chuckled.

“Koth the Mighty,” said the high king. “At last. An absolute honor.”

Koth blinked. What? “The honor is mine, your highness, if that’s the correct term of address.”

“Terrence is fine,” laughed Terrence. “I can’t have a hero of the Undead War calling me your highness.”

Koth started to protest but stopped. He was a hero of the Undead War, and it wasn’t his choice what to call the high king anyway. “Right. If you’ll allow my men to take your horses and follow me, we can talk in my tent. My men will make sure yours are fed.”

“Save your supplies, General. My men are well fed, and you’ll soon see why.”

“Oh?”

Shinto grinned. “He’s Terrence. He cheats at everything—even food.”

Again Koth raised his eyebrows but didn’t answer. He hadn’t been aware that Shin and Terrence had met during the war, but Shin was talking about the high king as if he were an old friend. He made a note of it and continued on to his tent.

The tent was standard issue, the same size as the ones his men sheltered in. He could have asked for a bigger tent, and gotten one of course, but General Shinto had taught him differently during the Undead War fifteen years ago. He’d been young then, and acquitted himself well, which he always credited to learning at Shinto’s feet.

Now he was here, meeting with the two heroes of the Undead War who were arguably better known than he was. He felt a thrill thinking that he’d be fighting beside two such heroes. That others felt the same about him was a constant source of amazement.

Terrence and Shinto had followed him into the tent. He turned and motioned for them to sit, grimacing that he really only had crates to sit on. Well, they were both soldiers; he was sure they knew the drill. Neither looked uncomfortable or particularly surprised, which provided a moment of relief. He wanted to make a good impression.

Shin spoke first. “It’s been a long time, Koth. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. Biggest command I’ve ever had, obviously. I didn’t see it coming. How long have you two known each other?”

“We met yesterday,” said Terrence.

“It feels like you know each other for ages.”

Shinto chuckled. “Why do you suppose that might be?”

Koth thought about it for a moment. “Morale. It keeps everyone relaxed. You’re presenting a unified front.”

“I told you he’s the best,” said Shinto.

Koth didn’t respond to the praise outwardly but felt it deep inside. These were men worthy of respect. That General Shinto respected him was the only validation he needed.

“You did at that. Shin and I might have our differences,” said Terrence, “but we leave them at the tent flap. When we’re in front of men, we’re a team. And now you’re a part of that team.”

“Yes, of course. So you have your differences?”

Terrence laughed. “I think Shin thinks they chose the wrong man for high king.”

Koth looked shocked, then turned to study Shin. “You didn’t say that, did you?”

“I didn’t have to. But no, I don’t think that they chose the wrong man. They weren’t looking for a general. They were looking for someone who men would follow anywhere.”

“Shin, men would follow you anywhere.”

“Soldiers might follow me anywhere, that’s true. But anyone would follow High King Terrence. It’s charisma, but it’s more too. It’s how he deals with people. He won me over, and I didn’t expect him to be able to.”

“How did he do that?”

“By accepting my battle plan without an argument. I didn’t expect that. He saw it made sense and pivoted from his own plan. That’s rare.”

Terrence shrugged. “You never lost a battle during the war. I, on the other hand, had my share of losses.”

Koth looked from the king to the general and back again. “Terrence, that was to be expected. We had more men. A lot more men. Better trained men as well. We were on the front lines. You were in the back line protecting the Death’s Doorstep villages that the Undead King hadn’t yet reached. You didn’t have enough soldiers for the job you were given and still succeeded more often than you failed. The fact that you were able to maintain your success rate, understaffed as you were, was remarkable.”

“Not really,” said Shin. “It goes back to what I just said. People are willing to die for this man. He wins them over. They’re not fighting for an ideal, they’re fighting for Terrence. I can have all the strategy in the world. Soldiers will follow me. Terrence is a different breed. And for the record, Koth is right. We didn’t give you the men you needed to win your battles, because winning your battles wouldn’t have won us the war.”

Terrence sat up straighter. Koth could see him working through what had happened. “You let those towns fall. You wanted them to fall.”

“No,” said Shin. “We didn’t want them to fall. But we didn’t want to feed men into defending small towns to try to save a few casualties if it put our eventual victory on the line, either. We’d have preferred you won every battle.”

Terrence frowned. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To have to abandon towns when we were overwhelmed, knowing that not only would those people die, but they’d almost certainly become the enemy? You were giving the Undead King more soldiers.”

Shin was already shaking his head. “We were giving the Undead King more cannon fodder. Those towns weren’t filled with adventurers or soldiers. Those with classes were already gone or fighting the war. We didn’t care how many normals the Undead King managed to convert, because he couldn’t win a war with them. It’s horrifying math, but it’s still math.”

Terrence’s fingers closed into fists and for a moment, Koth thought he would take a swing at the general. He wanted to say something, but he wanted to see how this played out. He had known Terrence hadn’t had the manpower to win, but he didn’t know the decision to make it that way had been so callous. What did that say about his side? Shinto must have guessed his thoughts, because the general turned his attention his way.

“It’s the reality of war, Koth. All wars. There are never enough men, never enough supplies, and people are going to die. All you can do is choose which people. It’s a horrible thing to make those decisions, but they have to be made.”

“We condemned innocent people to death,” said Terrence.

“No, my friend,” said Shin. “I did. I condemned them to death. You had no idea. But you know what? I’d do it again, if it meant winning that war, which we did. The alternative was unacceptable. The loss was acceptable. That’s just the way it is.”

“It’s barbaric.”

“It’s life. You think Sarith, when a war starts, sits there and thinks that there’ll be no casualties? That there’ll be no pain and suffering? War is suffering. There’s no way around it. There’s no solution. No medicine for it. You make the hard choices or the cost goes up. Tell me, Terrence…how many of those towns would you have saved, if saving them cost us five times the number of lives?”

The high king sat there for a long time, just breathing, not speaking. He was, Koth realized, wrestling with the question.

“I don’t know that I could have made that decision back then.”

“And now?”

Terrence’s eyes grew hard. “Recent events have hardened my resolve.”

“What does Sheba have to say about that?” asked Koth, genuinely curious.

“Sheba recently told me that I was her justice and that divine law trumped human law. This lesson is the same. Sometimes bad decisions are the only ones that remain. General Shinto…I’m sorry you had to make those decisions. I know it cost you.”

“Not really, no. I made them because they were the best choices I could make—and then I moved on. Beating yourself up over something you can’t help isn’t honorable, Terrence. It’s self-indulgent.”

Terrence’s eyes burned with rage and, for a moment, Koth was sure he was going to attack Shinto. Then he sagged on the box.

“You’re right, of course. And I’ve been self-indulgent for too long. When we get to Xarinos, this time, I’ll make the hard decisions myself. I’ll listen to advice, but I won’t farm out that responsibility.”

Shinto stood and took a step closer, clapping Terrence on the arm.

“And now I know why the gods chose you. You’re a good man, High King Terrence.”

Koth watched the two of them, frozen as if they were a painting. A general and a high king, eyes locked together, looking for answers in a place that offered nothing but questions. These were the men he’d be following into battle, and he was glad for it.

And he was just as glad, no one would be calling on him to make those decisions. At least he hoped that would be the case.

 

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

Dreek studied the creatures, and they were wrong. He’d have called them giant insects, but he’d never seen these particular insects before. One of them was like a spider centaur, the upper half of a man—arms, face and all, jutting up from the body of a spider. There were things that looked like centipedes but their bodies split into a Y, each segment ending in two fanged heads. There were things that looked like spiders but they had glowing runes carved into them. Maybe they could have taken a handful of them, but there were just too many.

They were moving too fast to count but there had to be at least a dozen, probably closer to twenty. Garne was good—but he wasn’t that good.

“There’s too many. You keep moving, I’m going incorporeal. You won’t have to worry about setting off the traps on me.”

Garne was already moving, sword drawn, taking swipes at anything that came close. Dreek didn’t move, because he didn’t have to. The creatures wouldn’t be able to harm him, though a couple came close enough to try. He didn’t bother stopping them. He let them learn that at least one of their quarries wasn’t touchable. That would make his job easier when he joined the fight later. They wouldn’t expect him to be able to hit them.

But Garne was in real trouble. He didn’t seem to be doing much damage to them, or any damage at all, but he kept moving. As he moved, no traps emerged, whether he stepped on flagstones or not. Dreek tried an experiment. He made himself corporeal only for a moment, then phased again. Sure enough, spikes sprang out of the flagstone he was standing next to. He looked again at Garne and suddenly he understood.

“Garne, keep moving and don’t stop. I want to try something.”

Dreek ran into the middle of them, a swarm of what humans incorrectly called bugs, and momentarily stood on a plate while they broke around him. He watched Garne moving, mostly retreating. So many. Too many. Garne wouldn’t be able to avoid them forever. Dreek flickered. He became corporeal only for a moment. Nothing happened. Probably not long enough. He tried it again, trying to watch Garne’s feet. Get the timing down.

The next time he phased in, he stayed a half a second longer, phasing out just in time to avoid an attack from a nearby…whatever it was. The insects around Garne were skewered, two of them only, but it was a start.

Garne shouted something unintelligible, half war cry, half triumph. It was probably hard to communicate when you were busy avoiding a swarm.

Dreek tried to repeat the maneuver several times and though he got a bit better at it, most of the time it didn’t work. They were moving too fast. The coordination was too hard. And then it happened. As he materialized, a trap triggered right under Garne.

Dreek dematerialized and, had he been able to breathe in that form, would have held his breath. But Garne wasn’t just big, he was fast and somehow, he managed to avoid the spike trap. And the creatures converging on them, four of them, were skewered.

For only a brief moment, Garne was in the clear. And he used that moment, first to shout something that more directly actually resembled a war cry than his previous attempt, and second, to use his leap skill, not away from them, but toward and then over them, giving himself time to set up the next ambush.

It was a battle Dreek would never forget. Garne dancing away from the creatures, setting off traps periodically when Dreek stayed too long on a flagstone. Dreek setting off traps near Garne, sometimes catching a few of them, sometimes missing completely, but always Garne kept moving. That beautiful, miserable, monstrous warrior, so unskilled at the social niceties was, when confronted with real challenge, practically a work of art.

And now, for the first time Dreek could see why Garne was one of the touched. Not some rich, pampered prince that went to a temple on his transition day, but a chosen of Sheba who earned every single level through skill and perseverance. He hadn’t understood before—had even questioned the goddess’s judgment. But no, at that moment, Garne was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He got so lost in watching, he forgot to move himself, but now he did, chastising himself for not holding up his end of the fight. He moved again, materialized and another insect-thing, only one this time, found itself at the end of a spike.

The dance continued, until, finally, for one brief moment, Garne wasn’t quite fast enough. Dreek wanted to scream, but that was brutally hard when he was incorporeal. Though Garne had managed to dodge away, the edge of a spike got him, and suddenly, he was no longer quite as fast or quite as dexterous. True, there were fewer enemies then, but Garne’s best weapon, his speed, had been taken from him.

Dreek couldn’t see how bad the injury was from where he stood, which frustrated him no end. He had no choice but to carefully, oh so carefully, do what he’d been doing all along—trigger more traps hoping Garne was still fast enough to avoid them, so that they could take out more of the enemy. And Garne continued triggering traps too, if slightly more slowly. Every time an insect was near Dreek, Garne triggered a trap, which as the swarm thinned, happened less frequently.

Eventually there were five left, then three. Then one. And finally Garne could collapse against the wall, even then, he was careful to land between flagstones.

Dreek drifted over to him and materialized.

“How’s the foot?”

“It’s fine,” lied Garne, gruffly.

“Can you walk?”

“I said it’s fine.”

That was the only answer Dreek was going to get from him, and it was enough. But as Garne lay there, recuperating, he didn’t look like the same man that Dreek had known before the battle. Not anymore. Because one day, they would write books about this man, and the phase-shifter would buy every one of them.