Illuminaria [LitRPG Fantasy Healer Adventure]

43 - Questionable Answers

Joe walked into the library to find Vexor already there. The cambion was sitting at one table, jotting unfathomable arcane equations onto his red forcefield whiteboard, which was hovering above the wooden surface. On the table behind him was a stack of pages and books. On seeing the semi-demonic mage, Joe was about to hold his breath when he realized that the infernal reek of brimstone and tar was not filling the air.

"Hey, Joe," the portal specialist greeted. "Let me know if the incense is not enough. Those sacred tapers are seriously expensive, and too bright for my eyes. The holy incense tickles my nose a bit, but it's easier for me to bear. I hope it is for you, too. If not, I grabbed a radiant candle just in case."

Joe sniffed a bit harder and just barely picked up just a tiny hint of that abyssal taint he had smelled before. He was pretty sure that as long as he didn't try to find the scent, he wouldn't notice it all.

"I agree. That candle was blinding. The incense is much better. Thanks."

"No problem. I tried to get your part done for you as I know this library better than anyone, but the dissembling on that valley is ridiculously strong. It kept diverting me. I've been writing myself notes all morning to keep on track, and yet as soon as I am not actively thinking about it, I forget about the place. So I fashioned some astral helpers," the crimson-hued arcanists stated, holding up a hand and conjuring a translucent illusion of a weird homunculus critter. The creature looked like a ball with a single round eye in the middle of its chest. Three thin arms and the same number of legs sprouted from the orb.

"While staring at my notes, I sent these guys to copy any reference on the valley's name," the horned sorcerer continued before pulling a scrap of paper and reading the words he could not recall on his own. "Glen Cumha, The Vale of Lement. I have to admit it's driving me nuts that I can't keep that in my head. The constructs are not alive, and are so single-task focused, they can't get derailed the same way I was. They gathered all the references they could find. I figured I'd let you go through them. You should be able to make connections that the dissembling would block me from making. Is that ok with you?"

"Perfect. I had no idea how I was going to figure out where to start looking. You solved that problem."

"Sweet. Alright. I'll be here for a few more hours. My [Wonder Door] spell still needs work. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

"I am sure I will," Joe admitted, sliding into a chair at the table behind the mage, pulling the pages to him.

Joe skimmed the first few pages and found that the top of the pile was mostly references to Founder's Day. The town celebrated its origins with numerous skits regarding the four heroes who founded the town. Vexor's astral crew had gathered the ones regarding the loss of the warrior General Margen.

There were dozens of pages of various couplets that all told the same bit of information. For instance:

Danger lies near, warned the seer's spell.
In the mountain's shadow, a darkness crept.
Brothers in arms, did dare the dell.
When only one returned, our people wept.

In a nutshell, Myra, the Starseer, foretold of a danger that dwelt in the valley below Mount Serebuk. Tinze and Margen went to discover what this peril was, but only Tinze returned. The mercantile founder could not recall what had happened, only that Margen had been lost in a dark place somewhere in the vale. The people renamed the valley Margen's Morne. Over time, the location of the valley was implied to exist in many different locations, down south by the desert, on the west side of the Hornlands, up by the Straight of Glandryth; all over the place.

From the oldest records, it was obvious Margen's Mourn and Glen Cumha were one and the same. To Joe, it was also clear the vale was just an accelerated day's run from Fort Coral. Yet, verse after verse hinted at different spots all across the region.

Towards the end of the pile, the references began to become more tangential. A bunch of passages about the fey and chimeras were mixed with stuff about the Great Necromancer that drove the Founders out of Glandryth. Most of these copies Joe couldn't connect to Glen Cumha, even if Vexor's homunculi felt there was one. There was one weird passage, though, that Joe kept coming back to.

Undeath is born where the seasons ended.
Queens scathe should the wheel be mended.

Each time he read these two lines, the Mark on his arm grew noticeably heavier.

Just as Joe was about to show the pair of lines to Vexor, he was overcome by a wash of dread. The wildness in him surged into a frothing rage. Something was horribly wrong nearby. Every nerve in Joe's body seemed to scream while his nose picked up a scent like Vexor's, but a hundred times worse.

As he bolted out of the library, Mojo, who had been sleeping on the chair next to him, bolted awake. The shug-monkey felt Joe's alarm flare through their empathic connection. The changeling began to bark and screech at the top of his lungs, running at Joe's heels.

"What in Blu's bounty?!" Vexor shouted behind them.

Joe snagged something off the wall in the atrium as he ran past Tezeno. He noted the sentinel's look of alarm. Dashing around the desk to follow, the archon clapped his wrists together, manifesting a shield on each arm.

"Joe? What's wrong?" the guilder droned loudly.

"Don't know. It's bad!" he huffed out, dashing down the further hallway.

The horrid sensation grew with every step. He ran past Myllo's workshop and through a large dining hall. He reached a door at the end of the hall bearing glowing arcane symbols. The source of the wrongness was in the room beyond. Even as he heard the archon and cambion shout for him to stop, Joe ripped open the door.

A putrid wave of tarry brimstone billowed out of the room, and a green, flickering light filled Joe's vision. Above some sort of pentagram, a twisting form hovering in the air, wreathed in emerald flames. It was a demonic face with a dozen slitted eyes and fanged mouths. Coils of barbed chains orbited the floating head. It was not fully present; Joe could tell the rest of the being was on the other side of the burning chartreuse rift. Even so, all he could think of was that it needed to be eradicated. He hefted the axe in his hands and charged.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Only to crash face-first into a wall that manifested out of thin air. As he shook his head, Joe looked again to see it was actually two walls overlapping. One was made of Vexor's red energy, but the other barricade was a pair of heavy shields; somehow, Tezeno had gotten in front of him.

"Joe! Never disrupt a summoning," Tezeno shouted, pushing Joe back through the doorway. The guardian maneuvered his face into Joe's eyeline, blocking his sight of the demonic visage. "Hey! Joe! Come on. Snap out of it."

The archon's words broke through some of the madness, and his thoughts began to clear. Then the vile thing within the chamber spoke.

"Lifebane leeks.
Deadlings walk.
Shamble not free,
before tempest peaks.
Falls another rock,
in storming wrath.
If forgotten rises,
woe the broken lock."

The profane grating voice sent Joe and the wildness … and maybe something else, into a frenzy. He raised the axe in his hand and was about to charge through the man in front of him, when red chains of energy swirled around his body. The crimson coils of force bound his limbs, leaving Joe only able to smash his head against that which was barring his way. His forehead tore against the shields, drenching his face in blood.

Some small part of him knew he was out of control, and yet he couldn't stop; he had to repel that demonic invader at all costs.

"[Restful Reprieve]," Myllo intoned from somewhere inside the room.

"Damn it! [Slumber Slam]," the korrigan shouted even louder.

And the world faded away.

Standing in an open field, Joe felt his body wavering in the grass. His form felt loose and fluid, almost as if the long, undulating stalks were passing through his semi-solid body.

He was looking at a stone statue of a dwarf bearing a broad, two-sided battleaxe. The granite sculpture reminded Joe of Azbekt, but the figure was very abstractly carved, created from severe, sharp angles. It only gave the impression of the man Joe had fought Sougath with, lacking any clear details.

Joe looked to his right and saw a wolf made of flames standing in the field with him. While the grasses were clearly engulfed in the predator's fiery body, the foliage remained unlit and unscathed.

To his left, a black banner hung in the air, with no obvious indication of what was holding it up. The pennant was marked with the Roman numerals XIII and the outline of a rose stitched into the ebon cloth with argent thread.

"Suffer no demon's presence, Joe," the stony voice of the statue thundered in a vehement command.

The flaming wolf growled savagely in agreement.

"Not yet," whispered the flag.

"Hey. There he is," the guild-leader intoned in a gentle voice. "He's waking back up. I'm not sensing any of that previous rage anymore."

"And what piss-poor reasoning was used in recruiting an unhinged lunatic into the guild, Myllo?" an acerbic-sounding man hissed. "He almost broke the containment spell. That could have turned into a nasty fight."

"It was just an imp, Lex. We could've handled it," the bearded man asserted.

"You seriously are taking that gob-strap's side over mine. I summoned you a perfect witness, and this guy almost lost it on us."

"Lexaroth" the guilder-leader muttered in a firmer voice. "Why don't you go walk it off. Tez, Vex and I can get to the bottom of Joe's actions without you. Thank you for the summons, kid. Now, beat it." The small man's tone made it clear that he was giving orders, not suggestions.

'Fine," spat the voice Joe didn't know. He cracked open an eye to catch the sight of the warlock tromping past him. Lexaroth was younger than Joe by several years, probably in his late teens or early twenties. He had dark hair and wore an almost goth-like outfit. His pissy expression was framed by a thin, fledgling goatee.

This had to be the shithead who had given Wen such a hard time. He looked exactly as Joe imagined he would.

Joe sat up and cracked his neck. Before he had a chance to look around the room, Mojo bound into his arms.

"Hey, Bud. You ok?"

He felt a warm radiate from the changeling, along with notes of worry. Joe stroked the little guy and noticed Vexor and Tezeno standing behind Myllo.

"Care to explain what that was all about, son. Lexaroth wasn't wrong. Busting in on an infernal summoning is a good way to get someone killed. This time it was only an imp, but if it had been something worse …," the stout man reprimanded.

"I'm so so sorry, guys. I've never had that happen before. Really," Joe declared. "One minute I was working with Vex and the next, I … I don't know. I just knew something was wrong. There was something here that was not supposed to be. It had to be destroyed … or banished … or … just dealt with."

"Fellshock. Most folks freeze up and get themselves killed when facing something from beyond this world. There are the occasional few who go on the attack instead," The guildleader explained. "Ironic. That 'fight over fright' instinct is one of the things Phealitan recruiters look for. Was that your first encounter with an outsider, Joe?" Myllo asked.

"I've seen a fey before. A real one. Not just mixed folks like you and me. Not to mention Mister Loigen, Padu, and the gwyllgi."

"Ok. So no problem with the fey. Not too surprising given your heritage. That being said, different planes affect some people more than others. You clearly have an overly strong acuity to the Hellish plane. We are going to have to desensitize you a bit. Demonology is not often used by the guild, but we do employ it occasionally. I need you to be able to be around it and not flip out like that again."

"Besides, blindly attacking a demon," Tezeno remarked, "even a small one, is a good way to get yourself dead. I'll set up some controlled interactions with Joe and some infernal energies or auras, boss. Probably start with the [Demon Box]. Obviously, we won't make any deals." After a nod from Myllo, the archon pointed at the weapon in Joe's hand. "What's with the battleaxe, Joe? The notes I have on you state you choose one-handed axes and claws for martial attacks. Why did you take down Ex Ardesco's cleaver?"

For the first time, Joe noted the hefty weapon he was carrying. It was a classic Conan-style two-headed axe, etched with Celtic/Fey knotwork. A second ago, it had felt completely natural in his grip. Now that he was aware of it, the axe seemed awkward and heavy.

"I have no idea. This just keeps getting weirder." Sheepishly, Joe offered the battleaxe to the sentinel, who banished his shields to receive it. The fact that he still had them equipped suggested that the guilders were not relaxed enough yet to let down their guard. "Can we do this [Demon Box] thing later? I need some fresh air."

"Yeah, kid," the korrigan stated in a fatherly tone. "Don't beat yourself up over it. We've had a lifetime to acclimate to the realms beyond. You've had a month. Take the rest of the day. It's still Mersday. You can get the rest of the info on Margen's Mourn to me tomorrow, Fireday."

Joe thought he had most of what Myllo wanted already, thanks to Vexor's initial info gathering. Yet he knew he was far too scattered to present it at the moment. Feeling distracted and embarrassed, Joe scooped up the shaggy pup and cradled his warm body as he left the guildhouse.