The Tears of Kas̆dael

The next moment, he was flying through the air as a wight snapped at his neck. He landed hard on his back, skidding across the still smooth floor. He slammed his elbow into the wight's jaws, whimpering in pain when its razor-sharp fangs sliced open his skin. Purge. Nothing happened. He had no time to process the spell's failure before he and the wight, still sliding across the floor, plunged into the pool of water.

The weight of the wight lessened as they plunged into the shallow depths, and Jasper kicked the creature away. The force of his kick pushed him deeper, slamming him into the bottom. He rolled to his side, but through the murky water saw that the wight had already almost closed upon him. Damn it. He frantically reached for a solution. Purge didn't work; would Sacred Star or Fiery Shackles work underwater? Probably not. He reached for his last spell. Seraph Burst.

Jasper erupted from the water like a dolphin on speed. He dizzily spun high in the air, supported by the spell's spectral wings. And that was when he realized his mistake. As the spell fizzled, he hurtled back down toward the pool, now fifty feet below. Aww, crap, this is going to hurt. The water felt like concrete, but it still opened up to swallow him into its depths. A second later, he reappeared before the astonished wight. Giving the creature no time to react, he grabbed its head and slammed it against the bottom of the pool. The two struggled as the pool turned red. And then, he surfaced.

As he dragged himself out of the bloody waters, Jasper felt like a drowned cat. He spluttered as he wiped the water from his eyes.

"That was an...interesting tactic." He shook the worst of the water out of his hair before he looked up at Aphora.

"As it turns out, I may not be well equipped to fight in pools of water." He rubbed his shoulder, which still ached from slamming into the ground. "When I tried to use Purge, it failed. Shouldn't it work on monsters?"

Aphora shook her head. "Not necessarily. Remember, Purge punishes those who have done grievous wrong. Before the city was destroyed, most of these monsters were just normal people. A few of them, perhaps, had some dark secret secrets to hide, but for the most part, they weren't evil, just very unlucky." She smiled. "Fortunately, as long as you stay out of underwater battles, your fire spells should work just fine."

When he had finished drying himself off as best as he could, he got back up on Dapplegrim. The party carefully picked their way through the mounds of Fey corpses, their progress slowed at times by the sheer size of the mounds. Jasper scanned the shadows, looking for threats, but saw no further signs of wraiths or wights. When they finally reached the other side of the building, Aphora descended from her mount and examined the floor carefully. Here too the bodies were piled up, and with a snarl of frustration, she cast out a wave of silver light, sending the corpses flying away in a shower of disintegrating limbs.

Jasper saw nothing different about the small area of the floor that she cleared, but Aphora’s lips curled in a triumphant grin. She retrieved a small vial of powder from her bag. Taking a pinch of the dust, she flung it in the air above the floor, watching carefully as it drifted down. Two more pinches of powder followed, until the faint outlines of the seal of Selene begin to appear. Bending down, she fed a slight trickle of essence into the dust. The seal glowed a fiery red as it etched itself deep into the stone floor. With a rumble, two great slabs slid apart, revealing a wide ramp leading down into the darkness.

He peered down the ramp apprehensively, his eyes straining to make out anything. After the events at Yar-Khennor, Jasper wasn’t too eager to descend into the dark depths of anywhere, but his worries were quickly assuaged. As he watched, small silver lines embedded in the ramp’s floor lit up, illuminating the passage in a strange light. Lady Aphora explained while she led them down the passage. “When the fey desecrated the upper temple, destroying what was left of its protections, they were unable to find the inner sanctuary before they were destroyed by the wrathful undead. The wards remained untouched, so we can stay here in safety while we cull the wraiths.”

The ramp opened out into a large, rectangular hall. Along the wall, passageways branched off in various directions, trailing off into still unlit corridors. But the room itself was breathtaking. The floor and ceiling were made of pure hammered silver, which gleamed in the arcane light. The silver ceiling was inset with the constellations of Corsythia, each star made of enchanted shining gold, while the silver floor below was woven from strands of glowing silver, like rivers flowing through the land.

But despite the beautiful decorations, the true focus of the room was an idol of a great silver stag. It stood on two legs, with a shaggy mane of hair - unlike anything Jasper had ever seen on a deer - that ran down its back, falling over its side in luscious locks. Its horns were enormous, stretching out to a width almost equalling the room, and in the middle of the horns, a large silver moon hung suspended. The strange bipedal deer had one arm (leg?) stretched out in front of it, and in the other, its arms twisted in a shape impossible for a deer, it cradled a tall spear in its hooves.

Lady Aphora bowed to the ground before the statue, bent low in supplication. “Embrace us, great Ayyalu. Extend your protection over us, that we may seek the vengeance you crave.”

The silver moon between its horns blazed with light, the rays bouncing off the silver walls, washing the room in a light so brilliant that it was hard to see, and then the statue moved. The great stag lowered its head to Aphora, and with its strangely twisted arm, lifted her up. “Arise, child.”

Its voice was like the distant thunder of a rainless summer night, the words barely discernible, but laced with a power so potent that it physically hurt to hear. Is this what it would be like if Kas̆dael ever spoke to me? Jasper was forced on his knees before the god, held in place by the pressure that emanated from his presence. Dimly, he was aware of Ihra bowing beside him.

“Your quest is foolishness, little deer, but you will always have my protection.” The great stag licked her forehead, a giant silver tongue somehow manifesting out of the statue. The great stag turned its eyes towards Jasper and Ihra. Its mouth opened, but no words came out. Shaking its head in frustration, it muttered in a low grumble, “So be it then.” The stag straightened back up, resuming its original form as the silver hardened back into a statue.

The unrelenting pressure disappeared, and, with shaky arms, Jasper pushed himself off his knees. Surveying the room, he saw that the ramp was now sealed off with the same wall of light that had protected them in Tsiāhu’s temple. Aphora remained on her knees before Ayyalu, the faint murmur of an indiscernible tongue echoing in the room while the floor beneath her gleamed from more than mere silver.

He and Ihra shared a look, unsure if they should bother Lady Aphora or not. After a moment of indecision, Ihra shook her head. Speaking in a voice barely above a whisper, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards one of the passageways. “Let’s leave her to pray. We can explore the area ourselves.”

As soon as her foot landed in the dark hall, a rush of light spread through silver veins embedded in the floor and ceiling, lighting the way before them. The hall extended further than they could see, burrowing deep into the mountain. But, they only needed to walk a few feet before arriving at the first set of doors. A quick peak inside the room on the left revealed that it was some sort of armory, the room strikingly similar to the one he had visited in the elven compound back in Gis̆-Izum.

The second room they found, however, was exactly what they were searching for. It opened into a spacious circular room, shaped like an onion turned upside down. The walls flared at the base, narrowing into a point above the center of the room. A series of small, open rooms - a bit like cubicles, Jasper thought - were carved into the walls. Each of the cubicles had a small bed and, built into the base of the bed, a desk and chair. When he walked over to the nearest cubicles, Jasper was surprised to find that the bed was freshly made in white linens, the covers tucked tight into the frame. On the desk, a book lay open, the cup beside it still filled with a clear liquid that somehow had neither evaporated nor molded in the long years since Als̆arratu had fallen. The cup’s unnaturally perfect preservation made him realize that the room itself was immaculate. The temple had been abandoned for centuries, yet not a single speck of dust could be seen anywhere.

He dropped his backpack beside one of the beds, cringing when the somewhat dirty bag emitted a small puff of dust that scattered across the pristine floor. Glancing over his shoulder like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Jasper did his best to kick the dust and dried mud under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind. At last satisfied, the floor still looking a little streakier than before, he sat down at the desk, eager to examine the book.

“Ahem.” He turned to find Ihra peaking over his shoulder. “What is that book?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just sat down to look at it."

"Well, it looks cool, but before you get lost in that book, we need to make supper and find a place to stable the horses.”

His stomach growled at the mention of food and Jasper leapt to his feet, all thought of the book sidelined. “I’ll do supper.”

“Good, I prefer the horses anyway.” She disappeared back into the hallway, heading towards the shrine where they had left their mounts, while Jasper headed towards the center of the room which was dominated by a large circular hearth with a strange contraption mounted over it. Examining it, he realized it was basically an open-air oven, with three shelves that were heated by the fire and two mounts that held great pots over the flame. The hearth itself was filled with a strange amber liquid, quite unlike anything he had ever seen. But a quick experiment showed that it was highly flammable, the flames spreading out evenly across the pit with a whoosh.

It was then that he realized that he had forgotten to actually grab any food. Duh, it’s on the horses. Running out to the hall, he ran right into Ihra, who was clearing a space for their mounts in the armory.

She smiled. “Forget something?”

He blushed. “Nothing much. I figured for our main course, I would prepare some fresh air and pure water, but thought we might want something little on the side. You know, in case we were still hungry.”

Her laughter echoed down the halls. “Well, I look forward to tasting your innovative entrees.”

Grabbing some supplies off the travel bags, he headed back into the room. Lady Aphora had a bag of holding that was well stocked with a variety of delicacies, but their own supplies were decidedly more mundane. He settled for a potato chowder, accompanied by some ash cakes.

The two had almost finished eating when Lady Aphora finally joined them. She took a glance at the still steaming soup and the half-burned ash cakes; then, wrinkling her nose, she fished some food out of her bag. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks stained with the tell-tale salt of tears. The always flawless elf had never looked so human.

They sat in awkward silence. Jasper was dying to ask about what had happened in the shrine. Who was that god? Why had he called her quest foolish? Why was she crying? But, the questions sat on his lips, unspoken. She wouldn't answer anyway.

When Aphora had finished eating, she finally addressed them. “As I said earlier, we need to thin the number of wraiths and wights before we attempt to ascend the Tower. Now the guild believes that the creatures only appear at night, but the truth is that they are here all the time and rarely awaken except at night. But you can find them and hunt them in the day, if you know how.”

“During the day, the wights usually sleep in small burrows beneath the ground. If you can wake them up, they will rush out of the burrow and can be easily dealt with. The wraiths are a little harder to kill. They sleep too, but are concealed in an almost impenetrable veil of magic that hides them from all the senses.”

She drew two small daggers, each a misericorde, out of her bag. With a casual flip, she tossed one into Ihra’s hand, but she held onto the second. Ihra snatched the dagger out of the air, spinning it in a circle with practiced ease.

“While holding these daggers, you will be able to see through their veil. You should be able to dispatch the wraiths with ease as they sleep. But,” she twisted the dagger in her hand, an uncertain look on her face, “many elven weapons, especially those from Onkodos Laos, were meant only for the use of elves, or those of elven descent.” She held the dagger out to Jasper. “You are welcome to try, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to wield it.”

He took the dagger, weighing it in his palm for a second. The balance was excellent, but the weapon felt kind of cold in his hand. When he closed his hand around the hilt, the cold surged up his hand, all feeling cut off. With a yelp, he dropped the weapon, which clattered the ground with a resounding clang. As soon as the weapon left his hand, the cold and numbness dissipated.

He stared at the dagger reproachfully, and Aphora shook her head. “I was afraid of that. It will make our task harder, but we’ll manage.”

As she spoke, an electric pulse ran through his scalp, emanating from the tiara on his brow. The room around him transformed into an alpine forest; tall pines, dripping in snow and ice, reached for the distant heavens as a cold breeze swirled around him. A man stood in the forest before him, a gnarled staff gripped tight in his hands. The sweep of his ears and the curving horns revealed him to be an elf, but his eyes danced with a fire that elves could not - or at least, did not - wield. “Pick it up again.”

As the man spoke, Jasper's vision cleared. Before Lady Aphora could react, he bent down again and snatched the dagger up. The cold flared up in his palm again, and despite being prepared for the encroaching numbness, he still almost dropped the misericorde. But he held on, gritting his teeth as the cold spread up his arm and into his chest. When it reached his heart, the wave of cold stopped; then, it slowly retreated back into the dagger. Tentatively, he slashed it through the air, stabbing it at an imaginary enemy. Not a flicker of pain.

Lady Aphora arched an eyebrow. “I’d love to know how you managed that. I didn’t sense even a shred of elven heritage in you.”

Not in the mood to give any secrets to one who had so many secrets herself, he simply winked at her. “Trade secret.”

She sulked a bit. “Keep your secrets, then. Since both of you can use the daggers, our work should be much easier. Tomorrow, we will hunt in the upper temple.”