Chapter 25
Above the endless abyss, Mishki kept his head low as he trudged forward. His yoke sagged beneath the weight of two stone-filled buckets, bearing ore mined from the mountain's core, the strongest site of power in Gnashridge Valley.
The furnace chamber loomed around him, carved into the rock at the castle's lowest level, directly above the chasm. Graystone walls curved into a high, vaulted ceiling, and three yawning vents split the floor at equidistant points like the arms of a buried sigil. At the center of it all, a transparent vestibule sat atop a mana-forged glass platform, humming faintly. Nearby, the convergence orb hovered within a squat half-dome of stone and brass, its sleek surface still aglow with residual energy from this morning. A thick pipe extended from the housing's rounded roof, rising to Mishki's height before bending sharply to join the main burner.
Unbeknownst to the small villages scattered throughout the valley, the gobles had occupied the dark castle for weeks now. Mishki was part of the team that kept the furnace burning with two kinds of fuel: one drawn from the region's beasts and minerals, and the other siphoned from the prisoner.
Like most gobles, Mishki rarely traveled alone. And like most gobles, he hadn't chosen the warlock's path. He had no desire to unite a tribe, let alone lead one.
Still, despite questioning his own warlock's sanity, Mishki preferred his odds with the tribe than without it. So he stayed, even after the warlock had first become forsook.
That was the term Mishki and the others whispered to describe their changed leader. But none dared say it aloud near him. The last goble who had was punished and bound to the convergence orb right here in the furnace room. Not wishing to remember that sight, Mishki averted his eyes from the orb's housing as he shuffled forward.
Ahead, a goble emptied her haul of extinguished torch slug husks into the furnace's vestibule. White-hot light flared through the central contraption, refracted outward, then funneled into the beam that jetted downard into the abyss. Mishki stepped forward, his bare feet brushing gray stone one moment, then tapping lightly against the impenetrable glass platform. Light from below cast shifting shadows that crawled up his limbs as he walked.
Mishki didn't like it here.
The line moved, so he took another weary step, adjusting the yoke higher on his neck to balance the stiffness in his shoulders. He now stood across from the convergence orb's domed housing.
Since the chamber wasn't active, its door remained open to remind the gobles what awaited them if they challenged the warlock or his mysterious cloaked allies.
Mishki's eyes drifted toward the chamber.
Chained, the prisoner leaned against the convergence orb hovering within the dome. She was an aerudine, a race Mishki had never heard of before. Gaunt, wings bound, her feathers dirty from neglect, she barely moved.
When she stirred and lifted her chin, Mishki looked away.
The warlock said his "friends," the reavers, needed her strength to create a new and better world. The aerudine held so much essence that a single hour of extraction with the convergence orb could power the furnace for half a day. Mishki feared whatever they were planning, but he could not risk leaving the safety of the tribe. Striking out alone would almost certainly mean his death.
Lately, though, he lacked confidence the warlock could guarantee their safety. The reavers rarely visited, but each time they had, the warlock cowered in their presence. And his anger always flared in the immediate days following their departure.
You do not have to do this.
Mishki stiffened at the voice in his head. It wasn't the first he had heard it, but it was not his own. Nor was it the ever-present hive voice that connected all gobles under the warlock's care.
This was something different, and he knew it shielded itself from detection by the hive. But what if the reavers had enhanced the warlock's influence?
As always, he did the only thing he could. He ignored it.
His eyes drifted as he tried to focus on anything else, but this time his gaze met the aerudine's.
Mishki's heart pounded as the voiced repeated itself, and he quickly snapped his eyes downward.
It couldn't be the prisoner.
I know you can hear me, dear goble. There is kindness in your heart. You are not like the others.
He hesitantly looked up once more, and the aerudine gave him a pained smile.
When the clacking of a staff echoed in the stairwell, signaling the warlock's evening visit to the convergence orb, it was she who broke eye contact. Her smile faded, and Mishki shifted uncomfortably.
Please, bring me some water when it is over. I have not drank in days.
Mishki trembled. The warlock was right here, and the prisoner risked this communication?
"I'm sorry," Mishki sent back, unsure if the message would go through. He nudged the yoke up higher on his shoulders and put all his focus on cutting any communication off.
The line moved forward, and so did he.
"Honor your word. Aid your kin. Do what is good."
The captain nodded at Logan in approval. "And do you give your word to embrace the code?"
"I do," said Logan.
She clapped his shoulder. "Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild."
She retrieved a knapsack that looked like Senna's from the nearby desk. "All newly inducted members also receive a courtesy starter kit." A small sigh crept into her voice. "Some people join the guild strictly for the interdimensional storage bag, but please remember that you have agreed to live by the code and 'Do what is good.'"
Logan assured her he appreciated the gift, and that it wasn't the reason he joined. The entire time, he held back a smirk, still aware of the ripple at the corner of his eye that concealed the dragon egg.
"In it," she said, "you will find two each of health, magic, and stamina potions. You also have seven days of dried rations, a basic flint set, and a rope coil." She opened the bag, which emitted a soft gray light, and pulled out the various items as she mentioned them.
"Thanks," he said as she handed it to him. He slung the bag over his shoulder.
"There's more," she said with a smile as she lifted a book from a stack of identicals. "This," she explained, "is a skillbook containing a utility skill. It will allow you to remotely access all current guild quests. It will also allow you to see how many reputation points you have earned, and what tier you stand in."
"Remote access? That's interesting."
"Yes. Often, adventurers accept a quest when they realize they're right near requirements, such as ingredient requests. It improves efficiency and also helps ensure any two people do not accept the same quest. Unlike other skills, it upgrades by tier, not level. Don't worry about that for now, there will be plenty of time to cover the minutia later."
Logan made a sound of approval, then allowed her to explain the skill book process to him, even though he already knew how to read it. Or rather, how to let the book read itself to him. Unlike the one Mariv had gifted him, this was thin and clearly mass produced. When she finished, he opened it and, just like the other one, the words lifted off the page. This one didn't make his brain tingle as bad, though.
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Congratulations! You have learned a new utility skill!
Questboard (non-leveled)
Go ahead, take on everybody else's problems!
She waited for him to test out the skill. It pulled up just like any other System prompt, but with an ornate border that matched the filigree on the quest board near the vendor square.
"And I just accept it like… this?"
Quest selected!
Retrieve 30 unbudded Luminthistle heads
Questgiver: Apothecary, Gnashridge Heights
Reward: 15 copper coins, Puff-Puff Salve
She lifted a finger. "You may wish to research ingredient locations before—"
Quest complete! Retrieve unbudded Luminthistle heads (30/30)
Deliver to the apothecary to claim your reward.
She frowned. "Oh. Nevermind."
What Logan took away from that was that she could see he had taken on the quest. He asked if that information was visible to anybody, and she confirmed it, but only for other adventurers, and only with guild-sanctioned quests.
He nodded. That was good, because when he checked his quest screen, he saw the two others: to save dragonkind and to restore the waterwoods.
"Well, it's pretty easy to work with." He scanned the rest of the quest board and scrunched his lips. "Nobody's filed a request to recover a lost amulet, have they, captain?"
Her eyes unfocused as she seemed to sort through some System-viewed archive, but ultimately shook her head. Nobody at the inn last night had heard of it either.
"And I told you, it's Dalia." She clasped her hands, and Logan braced for some spiel.
"Most fresh recruits come in wide-eyed and useless. You showed up, killed a Ripper, and now I hear you helped unearth the beetle infestation at the inn last night. You show promise."
"Well, they did a lot of the work."
"And yet you are now level 8. That doesn't happen if you aren't applying yourself." She tilted her head. "I've seen too many adventurers pass through this branch lately with more bark than bite. But Cassandra, Bromlin, and Senna spoke highly of you. Since we have bypassed our traditional beginning-of-month inductions to help you get up to speed on guild workings, we are assigning you temporarily to their team until our next lectures."
She guided him to a desk. "I'd like you to take this, too." She retrieved a velvet pouch from a nearby drawer. Inside was a gleaming sunburst-shaped brooch. "It's an attunement charm. It should amplify Cassandra's radiant casting. Let her know it comes with my full support, and she's welcome to pass that along to her family if she chooses."
The sly smile made it seem like Logan was supposed to help her choose that.
"Got it, Dalia."
She clapped once and exhaled. "Please take care of any business you need to and report here this afternoon. The rest of your team will be here for a briefing."
By the time Logan arrived at Mariv's house, he had collected his luminthistle bounty for a modest reward and visited the seamstress. He paid a little extra for a sturdier shirt, but she was out of pants, so he still wore his flannel bottoms. She brought in the waistline (Logan patted his stomach, disbelieving how much he had actually trimmed) and hemmed the frayed ends at his knees.
She also insisted on tidying up his prowler pack, which had taken quite a beating. Within a half hour, she had made it gleam, treated the rough leather with something that smelled faintly of bark and oil, and added reinforced stitching along the seams. She even fashioned a proper belt out of a darker, freshly tanned strip of hide. Though he only glimpsed her sewing machine and tanning rack through a back room doorway, both looked complicated, and he was certain her fast work was aided by some enchantment.
When he knocked at the gnome's dwelling, Razor answered. The comforting scent of herbal tea wafted from behind her tense frame. "What is it? Is the egg safe?"
Logan smiled and clapped her shoulder, opening his interdimensional storage ripple and showing her the egg safe and sound. "Nice to see you too, Razor."
She pulled her shoulder from under his hand, but relaxed and led him upstairs.
Mariv was already pouring Logan a cup and himself another. "I heard," said the gnome, "you had an eventful evening at the inn."
"I guess word travels fast," said Logan. He supposed that explained Razor's pointed greeting. He watched as she stoically steeped a tea bag. Then again, maybe that's just her normal shining personality.
Mariv inhaled his tea with eyes closed and sipped. He smacked his lips. "This comes from Frostmere Vale." His eyes narrowed and he smiled in distant memory. "They have this woolly rhinocerous that feeds on sugarcane, and its excretions fertilize the—"
"Mariv, can we focus?" asked Razor, giving her cup a strange look before setting it down. She turned to Logan. "What exactly happened last night? I find it hard to believe that you discovered a new limit of the boundary and ended up missing for twenty minutes."
"I think twenty minutes may be an exaggeration. It was more like ten."
"I don't care if it was ten seconds. What happened?"
Mariv shot him an apologetic smile, but he clearly shared her curiosity.
Logan described the thick gray pillar of mana and explained how it changed in appearance, which he suspected was from passing the Great Boundary. He told them how the pillar seemed to suck the ambient mana in like a vacuum.
Razor tilted her head. "Through the Boundary." Her squint deepened. "As in physically?"
Logan nodded. "At least I think so… And actually," he said, scratching his head, "even that gray color seems familiar…" He gestured to the square grid on the floor. "Mariv, could you show me the Boundary's local perimeter?"
"Certainly. At least, for all the known regions." Mariv hopped off his stool and waddled to the grid, which activated.
Aetherlens.
Here, in a contained room, the skill gave him less of a headache. He had always been interested in people who had synesthesia and could perceive extra colors or sensations others couldn't. Maybe this was something like that. The air looked like water laced with vibrant hues, each color drifting in its own direction without ever blending or colliding. When Mariv cast his spell, some of the golden strands shimmered and pulsed. Radiant mana.
Aetherlens is level 2!
The mana didn't dissipate. It simply hovered by Mariv and cycled in and out of his control. Any time some rolled away from his reach, it didn't make it far before getting sucked back in, just like at the pillar.
Aetherlens is level 3!
"Based on your discovery last night," said the gnome, "and the inn's distance from the town limits, that would put this edge of the border somewhere within the mountain." He tapped his chin. "It makes sense, because the border picks up again here and here." He pointed to two opposite sides of the mountain.
"That's where the castle is, isn't it?"
Mariv nodded.
"And this…" Logan squinted. "This is the river that's fed by the mountain's waterfall."
Another nod.
"Huh. So does that mean nobody's been in the river?"
"That is how a boundary works, champion," said Razor, eyeing from over her teacup's rim. She tested the tea warily with her tongue before making a face and meeting his eyes. "For us, anyway."
"I take it," said Mariv, tracing the illusionary stream with a finger, "you have."
"Yes."
The human dragon set her cup down and stood. "Then we should send you to Emberhold at once. This must be how the reavers invaded my homeland. They came from nowhere, and we skirt the Fold's edge, too." She started pacing. "Can you escort others through the Boundary? Did it require a skill?"
"Razor, please," said Mariv, as if tutting a fussy child. She flashed him a glare and Logan feared she might literally bite his head off. "The boy is only level 6." He gave Logan a dramatic side glance, the kind that screamed do you see what I endure?, then brightened. "Ah, correction. Level 8. Well done, Logan."
Razor's lip curled, but her smoldering stare turned to the diagram. Logan figured she was envisioning her home rather than the valley it showed. "I will burn them down. I will tear them limb from limb. What if they captured Zyrraveth? I will make each and every one of them curse the day their parents met."
Mariv patted Razor's shoulder, but spoke to Logan. "Can you try to trace your initial steps in the model?"
"So, you summoned me here," Logan said, walking into the illusion and tapping his finger at the top of the mountain. "I went through the mountain, fought off slugs and undead, fell into a tunnel and came out… here." He traced his finger in a parabola and whistled from high to low to mimic his descent, until he made a crash sound with his finger landing in the river. "And swam out at the bank here." He made a face. "Nasty tentacle thing lived in there." Then he shrugged. "But actually, it tried to attack me and hit an invisible wall. Which, I'm guessing, is—"
"The Boundary," said Mariv as he joined Logan. "Fascinating." He gasped. "Perhaps that is why I have never heard of the Kalashi brothers. If the border cuts directly through the mountain, as you proved last night, then is it possible you passed the Boundary somewhere while inside the mountain, too? I've found no further mentions of the story of the eight priests, but it is possible that was a legend lost to time when the Ruined Wilds fell into their current state."
Logan thought back to his trials with the slugs that led him to the ceremonial chamber and the coarse stone he had chipped his way through. Dimly, he remembered being inside the chamber and looking out at a slug he had slain. The slugs were a bright red-orange, but he distinctly remembered it had looked gray. He had chalked that up to his eyes adjusting to the different lighting inside the wight-infested room. But the grayness of the pillar last night had become vibrant once he passed the Boundary.
There had also been that bat that seemed to hit a wall, preventing it from entering the ceremonial chamber, much like the tentacled creature in the river.
"I think," said Logan, "it's like an inactive area, or out-of-bounds section." That earned him confused looks. "Right, no video games here. Uh, like the System recognizes that there is a boundary and it cannot interact with it, so it grays things out. Like the pillar."
"Then why doesn't the castle look gray? Or any of the land in the Ruined Wilds?"
Logan considered that. It wasn't just a matter of living things. The slug he had seen was dead, and the pillar wasn't alive. But the pillar was mana. Activated mana, specifically, as opposed to ambient mana.
Mariv nodded along at Logan's explanation. "A most interesting concept. We summoned you from beyond the System, so it would make sense that the Boundary does not apply to you. And this new skill you mention, Aetherlens, and how your Manasense synergized with your heritage… that is in line with the lore of your people and their focus on balance."
The clock chimed, and Logan stepped back from the model. He had to return to the guild.