Illuminaria [LitRPG Fantasy Healer Adventure]

36 - On the Nose

After collecting the four gold from Joe, Kendell wished them well in their info-hunt as she returned to her front-desk duties. She made them promise to come tell her what they found out. Joe got the impression that Earcellwen had given the skill trainer a basic rundown of their ape fights and that they had encountered ghouls, but not much more. He was pretty certain she had not mentioned the warded valley and the creeping corruption.

Joe would have led with the proliferation of undead, even though they were mostly contained by the long sunlit plain. In his mind, that was not much of a deterrent; a couple of rainy days would allow the horde to cross that open ground and reach the farms around Fort Coral.

His best guess was Wen wanted more facts first. She had a strong, independent streak. Even though she often talked about her family, so far she had only mentioned older siblings and kin. Joe wondered if she was the youngest of her generation. She had that younger/youngest child vibe, the 'wanting to prove herself' attitude.

When viewed through that lens, he could see how she wouldn't want someone else to solve the mystery for them. They should be the ones to resolve the problem or, at the very least, define it. Joe was ok with that plan initially, but if they came up blank, he would make sure the guild was fully informed before they left the guildhouse.

As he and Earcellwen entered the library, Joe's sense of smell was hammered with the fetid fumes of brimstone again. The demonic Vexor was sitting at a table in the middle of the library, reading a hefty tome. Instinctively, Joe clapped a hand over his nose, and his feet missed a step. Both Mojo and the silver-haired elf beside him immediately picked up that something was wrong.

While the dog-ape tapped Joe's neck, Earcellwen asked, "You ok? What's wrong?"

As Perception was the wildbow's highest attribute, Joe was at a loss to understand how someone so sharp wasn't reacting to that overwhelming stench.

"There must be something here in the room setting my scent ability off," he managed to mutter, trying not to breathe. As much as he wanted to point out the source of the vile reek, it's not like he could say their friend and resident portal-specialist stank of hell. "Give me a second. I should be able to get used to it in a minute."

Earcellwen gave him a sideways look but shrugged and headed for a section of shelves. After wiping his tearing eyes, Joe noted this set of shelves was devoted to regional and local history. She grabbed a map and a pair of books before looking toward the top shelf.

"Of course it's on the top shelf," she huffed. "Joe, grab the ladder … what am I saying? See the brown leather volume with gold letters there on the top shelf. Get it, please."

Even though there were tons of brown books with gold lettering, it was easy to tell the one Wen was pointing to as none of its neighbors happened to match that description. Joe had his new amber-shaded paw pull down the volume and hand it to her.

"Thanks. Let's start with these. These are all about the mine expansion. Not long after Fort Coral was founded, a band of dwarves came north from the Malrenet Mountains and set up a quarry and mine on Mount Serebuk. Most of the stone this town is built from came out of the Serebuk Quarry."

As they were leaving the aisle, she reached out and plucked one more book from a low shelf before passing it to him. "You should start with that one."

"Got it," he replied absently, more worried about where they would end up sitting than the book. He knew if he tried to sit near the cambion scholar, he would get nothing done. Joe steered her towards the table furthest from the studying mage. He could tell that she would have preferred a table in the middle of the room where the lighting was better, but she followed him to the spot he chose. The sulfurous wafts still found their way over to that far corner, but it was at least bearable for Joe's hyperactive sense of smell.

The textbook in Joe's hands was essentially a school book for children, detailing the early days of Fort Coral. He raised an eyebrow at his new friend for the choice, but he understood why it made sense. Joe needed to gain a basic understanding of the region before he could assist with the research.

The first part of the volume focused on the founders. The four heroes had come from the land of Glandryth, far to the west. Over time, the independent adventurers evolved into leaders among the western tribesfolk. Margen led the armies. Tintze oversaw commerce. Jequa marshaled the mages, while Mira watched the stars and guided the people to prosperity.

One night, Mira saw a star fall through the black sky and received the strongest vision of her entire life. She saw great evil and darkness coming to the lands of Glandryth. She saw the waves of risen dead and necromancy that would scourge everything west of the Baerrok Peaks. The only hope her people had was to escape to the east. She saw a place this growing evil would not reach. One place she was sure they would not only be safe from the coming calamity but have a chance to thrive.

So respected were her divination talents that none questioned her. Whole villages followed Mira and her companions over the mountains and through the eastern fey forests. Many were lost on the journey; more than Mira ever expected. By the time they reached the far coast, their numbers were half of those who had begun the journey. The diminished Glandrions set to work building a small walled hamlet that would one day grow to become Fort Coral.

Mira's vision turned out to be correct. Less than a decade later, the greatest necromancer Illuminaria has ever known conquered all of their old homeland. Taking a name from his art, the dark-mage Necronias wiped almost every living thing from the land. Glandryth was no more. Now, it is known as Blackfell, a place of such dire renown that only the most powerful or foolhardy dare enter its borders.

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Yet even with all the death behind them, the escapees flourished in their new home. The abundance of the site surpassed their best hopes. It had access to the ocean and fertile lands for farming. The neighboring forests could be carefully lumbered once accommodations had been reached with the fey and elves. There were even mountains nearby able to supply the needed metals and good stone.

For decades, they knew unbridled prosperity. The only great tragedy of those early years was the loss of one of the first founders, Margen. Intrigued, Joe flipped ahead a few chapters to read about the warrior's story.

He found the section and read that one small area of land, a few days' journey from the growing town, was a region Mira could not scry into. This valley lay at the foot of Mount Serebuk. It was an unwholesome place, shunned by the settlers and the fey alike. The hollow was known as 'Glen Cumha', which meant 'Vale of Lament'.

Margen and Tinzte went to explore the valley to understand why the seer was blind to what went on there. And then something terrible happened. Only Tinzte returned, and he could not recall how he had escaped nor how his boon companion had been lost. The valley was renamed by settlers, becoming 'Margen's Mourn'. In deference to the hero, the valley was shunned by the villagers. The town and surrounding farms were erected away from Mount Serebuk. Even the eventual quarry and mines were situated on the other side of the mountain from the valley.

Joe sat up in his seat. Could his children's book really have the answer? Joe flipped through the rest of the book, and there was nothing more. He reached over and grabbed the larger tome Earcellwen was not reading and turned to the index. There was no listing for 'Glen Cumha' or 'Margen's Mourn'. It was as if the town had written away the tragedy.

He sat back in his seat, digesting this small nugget. He wondered why Earcellwen hadn't mentioned that the name of the valley was well known. Why start with the dwarves and their mine and not look at the stories of Margen's disappearance? He felt like he was missing something. Joe ran his fingers over the names and, in a quiet library voice, he uttered them.

"Glen Cumha. Vale of Lament. Margen's Mourn."

As he uttered the first two, a tickle ran over his skin, like he had insects crawling on him. As he brushed his hand over the area to dispel the feeling, something caught his eye. It was a tiny waft of wine-hued specks. Joe was certain that he would never have seen them twenty minutes ago. There was something cursed about those names.

Surprised, Joe looked around to see if the guild library had a card-catalog case like the old town library he had grown up with. He wanted to see if there were more books about the valley that Earcellwen had skipped since she did not know its names.

Sure enough, right in the center of the room was a low, wide case with dozens of small drawers. Unfortunately, it was right next to the table where the horned Vexor was working. Grumbling to himself, Joe took a deep breath and held it as he strode quickly up to the case. The closer he got, even holding his breath, the stronger the hellish aroma became.

Joe tried to ignore the vile stench while he worked to figure out how the cards were indexed. Unfortunately, his eyes were watering so fiercely that he could barely see straight. Accidentally, he hooked a claw through a half a dozen cards, ripping them from the long thin drawer.

He was trying to put them back when a hand grabbed his upper arm and spun him around. Earcellwen was staring at him, dumbfounded. Mojo was at her heels.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

Joe wanted to reply, but the thought of opening his mouth and letting that demonic reek into his mouth was intolerable. Looking at her through wide-tearing eyes, he could only shake his head once before bolting from the library.

As soon as he hit the lobby, he gasped for air. Joe inhaled the cool, stony scents of the chamber, mixed with some dusty dry fragrances trickling off the many hung trophies, as well as the soap and cinnamon smell of Kendell. On his second gasp, Earcellwen caught up to him.

"What in the winter's bite has gotten into you, Joe?" Wen demanded. "Are you ok?"

Kenda was there a second later. "What happened?" Joe saw the concern on her face and the confused shrug from Earcellwen. Joe was about to explain when the reek redoubled and swamped him once more.

"Is he alright?" asked a congenial voice attached to a miasma of burnt tar and rotting eggs. Vexor strolled out of the library into the atrium, and Joe felt the wildness flare into rage within him. It wanted to destroy the source of the hateful reek overwhelming them.

Joe tried to control the wild spirit and explain, but all that came out of his mouth was, "I can't."

Dashing out the main door and onto the avenue in front of the guildhouse, he scrubbed at his nose, knocking some cards off his claws to flutter away. The shug monkey, who had followed him, dashed after the spiralling scraps, hunting them down.

Joe knew he was being extra and a bit rude, even though he was trying his best not to be. That stench was just too much. There clearly was a reason it was tied to hell and damnation. Joe could handle most stuff people found awful. He had cleaned kennels, suffered through every one of his own bodily fluids, and even helped his local vet with a few gruesome cases. Yet the stench flowing off the guild-mage was beyond his ability to bear.

The door opened, and Earcellwen stepped out. Thankfully, all three of them hadn't come after him.

"Explain, Joe," she demanded, with a sharp tone. "You are freaking everybody out. What the Abyss is wrong with you?"

"The Abyss. The Abyss itself. That is what you guys call Hell, right?" he stammered, stepping on one of the escaping index cards. "That's what's wrong!"

Throwing her hands up over her head, she retorted with an even more annoyed voice. "How would I know what we call something from your world, Joe?"

"I'm really sorry. The brimstone smell. It drives my scent ability insane. I know Vexor is your friend, so I was trying not to be a jerk. I know I failed miserably, but I really didn't mean to." Finally able to take normal breaths, he reached down and grabbed the punctured cards Mojo was holding for him. Giving his nostrils a hard snort, he knocked out much of the lingering smell trapped in his nose.

"It can't be that bad. I mean, my Perception is excellent, and I barely notice it. It's there, but it's not that strong."

"I don't think it's the strength of the smell, but the nature of the smell that's killing me. I walked past an incense shop yesterday, and the scents coming out of it were so strong I was sneezing for the next fifteen minutes. Vexor is not nearly that strong but a thousand times worse."

The elf sighed. "OK, wait here. Let me see what I can do to fix this."

"But I found a clue about the valley," he called to her back as she reached for the door.

The wildbow spun around. "Really?" He was about to reply, but Wen held up a hand, palm toward Joe. "No. Wait. Hold that thought. Let's get one thing resolved before we go to the next thing. My dad says, "A cook can craft one fine meal or burn two.' Let's solve your Vexor problem first, and then you can tell me."