Call of the Abyss [Book 2 Complete]

Ithshar finished speaking and, giving a small bow, exited the stand. Julia was beside Seyatha in a booth high above and overlooking the Assembly chamber's floor

Seyatha had invited her to be present while Ithshar gave testimony on behalf of the Zal'Nadir. She reported both her personal investigation and her confrontation with the Nashiin, as well as the results from other squads searching the marsh borders. It seemed that at least two other settlements' residents had vanished without a trace.

Though they couldn't investigate as deeply as Julia could with her Sight, the circumstances matched what she observed in Sûram'Vahl closely: an empty village, completely absent of life, corpses, or signs of struggle.

"We thank you both for your time in coming here to report, and your organization's willingness to aid us in these dark times, Ithshar Ithsharûn-Tûrathiin," a man said as he stood.

He was tall—probably just under a stretch and a half—with the most striking head of hair Julia had ever seen. His roots were black, or maybe a deep brown, but the strands shifted in a gradient from that darkness into bright green at the tips. The bulk of it fell in loose waves down his back to the small of his spine, while the sides were drawn into tight, precise braids.

His face was what Julia would call "traditionally handsome"—strong brows, sharp cheekbones, fierce green eyes—but everything about his posture radiated self-importance. He carried himself like someone who believed his every word was precious.

This was Avelrûn Shûratalûn-Veshari, Voice of the Fifth Root.

When a person was elected to the Shûratalûn, the Rooted Assembly, they forsook their original name and tree affiliation, adopting a surname that signified devotion to all of Veshari. There were fifteen such "Roots," each elected democratically and serving for life—unless removed by a majority vote of their peers.

Julia hadn't been able to focus much on the nuances of elven politics, despite Seyatha giving her a rundown—she found it all horribly convoluted and boring.

Seyatha had wanted Julia to observe both how their government functioned, and the report that Ithshar delivered about the other villages. Apparently, Seyatha had a permanent spot from which she could observe all Assembly sessions if she so desired.

Observe—but not participate. Seyatha was outside the Jadhariin government, after all. Her voice carried much influence, but no actual political power.

Avelrûn made himself into an image that Julia immediately despised. He wore high-quality silks in garish colors, and clinked with an armory of jewelry and trinkets every time he shifted.

Technically, the Assembly members were meant to rotate leadership of each session, but Avelrûn always found a way to claim the floor when something important was discussed. Seyatha had explained as much.

If she was not fond of him personally, however, she made no mention. She conveyed this information with an almost clinical neutrality.

"We will now open the floor for discussion of the issues brought forward. That being the case, I would like to declare that, while deserving of further investigation, this matter does not change the scope of the war. We are still holding steady with our internal supply of necessities," he said, appointing himself as the first to speak, of course.

"Doesn't change anything? Three towns have vanished without a trace! Not just any towns, either. Sûram'Vahl, a substantial source of khazrat, Nûr'Shavath, one of our few fish farms, and Talrah'Ven, a plantation that supplies the majority of our rice.

"These are strategic strikes that weaken our ability to sustain ourselves while cutoff from external trade," a woman declared from across the hall.

The Assembly hall was a large, domed room built into the roots of the largest tree in Veshari—other than the Mother. The roots overlapped and created a dome so perfect, Julia wondered if it was somehow grown intentionally for this purpose.

The root walls wrapped around each other until they reached a climb overhead, leaving a pinprick gap where sunlight filtered down into the exact center of the dome.

The chamber was, while not bare, furnished sparsely. There was a raised seating section with fifteen chairs arranged in a circle. In the center was a small stand that three or four people could stand on, like Ithshar had done to deliver her report.

"Indeed, the Nashiin mean to escalate the conflict. Make no mistake, this is a sign of what is to come—increased aggression," a man said with a pensive frown.

"Fellow Roots, please. Let us not jump to bleak scenarios unwarranted. These strikes are an escalation, but we have yet to receive reports of a Nashiin army marching through our lands, and we have the entirety of the marsh under strict surveillance. We will see them coming, if they do," Avelrûn said with his hands up, making a placating gesture.

"What then would be your suggestion to this, apparently, non-threat?" a man asked, though Avelrûn seemed to ignore the sarcastic undertones.

"We carry on as we have. Increase the watch on our border towns, yes, but we cannot mobilize our forces too early. If we concentrate them in one area, we weaken all others," he said.

Julia turned as Ithshar entered through the door at the back of the observation booth. She nodded to Julia with a small smile before taking a seat on the other side of Seyatha, who was still watching the discussion below with an unreadable expression.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Do they not find it strange that the Nashiin knew where to strike to deal such significant damage? I've seen a great deal of Nashiin, but I've yet to see any demonstrate any sort of scouting or information-gathering abilities. It seems strange that they would know how and where to make such precision strikes," Julia whispered.

"Indeed, unless they have advanced scrying that not only we fail to detect, but you as well, Julia, their sudden precision is alarming," Ithshar whispered back.

"Alarming" wasn't quite how Julia would describe it, but she held her tongue. She had only minor experience in combat and no experience in larger conflicts, like war. She didn't want to speak on something she wasn't very knowledgeable about without proof.

This felt very much like the Nashiin had a spy among the elves, though. That, or like Ithshar said, they had some advanced spying capabilities the likes of which she'd never seen—which was not impossible.

Julia was already beginning to get a glimpse of what real power looked like after receiving her Level 50 Class. It would not shock her to learn that the impossible became mundane at even higher levels.

"Come, there is nothing more to be gained here," Seyatha said, suddenly standing. Somehow, everyone below noticed the movement and bowed their heads to her—some bowing lower than others. She nodded back and made for the exit, Julia and Ithshar on her heels.

Julia glanced back toward the Assembly as they left and met Avelrûn's eyes. His face shifted immediately, but it was not quick enough for Julia to miss the look he gave her.

Perhaps anyone else might have missed it, or even dismissed it as a trick of the light, but Julia knew. She knew what distaste for a person just because they existed looked like—she'd seen it most of her life.

She didn't know why he had cause to hate her so much, but she knew for sure that he did.

Julia sat cross-legged with the Barrowlord's sword in her lap. She ran her mana over it again, trying to figure out the enchantment on the blade. The problem, she was realizing, was that there was no enchantment on the blade—or not one carved in runes, at least. This must be another case of spiritual infusion, or something like Weaving.

She sat in a private room in Tirn'Aleya. Seyatha had brought her here to be closer in case a mission came in suddenly. She was initially hesitant to ask Julia to move out of her stilt house, but that hesitation vanished once she learned that Julia kept all her possessions stored in her bracelet—there wasn't anything to move.

Julia didn't mind the stilt house, but it was a little lonely. Seyatha had initially settled her there out of habit—it was where outsiders congregated, so it made sense to assume Julia would feel more comfortable there. However, due to the siege, there were no other visitors to the marsh, which meant Julia was on her own in that section of the city.

She had no issue with being by herself thanks to her upbringing in Rockyknoll, and with Trixy nearby, she was never truly alone. Still, it was nice to be in a place that was lived-in. Seeing Seyatha and the Zal'Nadir go about their business was refreshing for Julia. Just seeing life going on around her was a comfort she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

Thinking about Seyatha's company brought her mind back to the song they played together. It was fun, and the more distant it grew in her memory, the more she realized how much she enjoyed it. She hoped they played again sometime.

As she thought about the song and how she felt where to beat the drum instinctively, she began to notice a sort of "humming" from the sword on her lap. It wasn't a literal hum, of course, but it registered in Julia's senses like a noise—a voice. It was trying to communicate something.

Julia closed her eyes and focused on the feeling, trying to understand what it was attempting to say. She got a sudden feeling of rot, of disease and rust, of decay. That's what it was—this blade was infused with the will to decay.

She suddenly felt a whirring in her core—she knew instinctively that recreating this mana phenomenon would come easily. However, she wanted this magic to be able to punch through armor, so "decay" wasn't very efficient for that goal.

Likely it managed to get through her own armor due to a combination of the enchantment and the Barrowlord's raw power. Julia couldn't rely on her own physical strength that way.

She thought about what would still fit within the theme of decay, but be more useful. Rust? No, that was close, but rusting was not a quick process—not quick enough for what she wanted, at least. It was too specific. There was a fine line to walk between specificity and versatility.

She thought for a few minutes before it came to her: corrode. She wanted the metal to corrode away enough to allow her blade to pierce through.

Julia blinked at the notification before quickly dismissing it. She placed her hand on the blade, just above the crossguard, and channeled her mana. Focusing on the new spell, she felt the mana leave and coat the blade under her hand. It began to sizzle and groan, blackening as pits opened up. It emitted a foul, metallic odor as it withered away.

The corrosion was not fast enough to be effective with a single strike, but perhaps repeated strikes to the same spot would work. Julia noted that this sword was also likely Blacksteel, like the Barrowlords' armor, which she recalled was naturally more resistant to mana than regular steel. Perhaps regular steel would corrode even faster—

"An effective—if nasty—technique," Seyatha said suddenly from the doorway.

Julia startled so hard the sword tumbled from her lap. How was this woman always sneaking up on her? She even managed to open the door without Julia noticing!

"Yes—ah. I was trying to extrapolate the effect that allowed a Barrowlord to punch a hole straight through my cuirass in a single strike," Julia stammered, a little taken aback by Seyatha's sudden appearance.

"I see. In that case, well done. It appears effective," she praised.

"Thanks," Julia said with a smile, looking toward the floor in front of her. For some reason, being praised by Seyatha made her embarrassed.

"Now, come with me, if you will. The Zal'Nadir are having a conference that I would like you to be a part of," she said, already out the door before she even finished the sentence. It seems the "if you will" part was just politeness.

Julia returned the sword to her storage and ran after her, suddenly nervous. What could have happened to warrant a conference?