Chapter 13 - Onward and Upward

  “So let me get this straight. Some strangers showed up out of nowhere in the woods, healed me, teleported us through hell, and now we’re in the middle of an apostle-infested city? I’m gone for like five hours and this is what happens?” Han asked after Grizzel had summarized the day’s events. Meanwhile, the others stretched and recovered from the effects of the deacon’s temporary enchantment.

  “Yeah that kinda sums it up,” Grizzel shrugged.

  Sham chuckled and approached the bowman with an open hand. “I’m Ohen, but you can call me Sham. It’s an honor to finally meet you. Not many can survive the maw of a lythin like you did.”

  Han rubbed his neck.

  “Thanks to you,” he said, eyeing the armored woman. “Uh, who’s your friend?” he asked as he shook the wizard’s still frosty hand. The stinging chill nearly made him recoil. Being from a region as humid as Kanda, he had never felt the sensation of snow before and it certainly left a lingering prick in his sun-tanned flesh even after releasing his grip.

  “Tex, why don’t you introduce yourse-” Sham began.

  Ignoring the wizard, Tex marched up to Taenith and slugged him in the jaw, catching the draconian off guard as he almost tripped over shattered pieces of furniture.

  “What the hells?” Taenith snapped, rubbing his sore maw. “What was that for?”

  Tex snarled. “When were you going to tell us you were wanted for murder?”

  Taenith opened his mouth to reply, but Tex continued her verbal assault.

  “I swear, you called Grizzel out for his shit then pull something like that?”

  Grizzel and Han just looked confused. And neither wanted to intervene, especially Grizzel.

  “Tex,” Sham attempted to intervene, but her eyes were emblazoned with emerald fury, and she continued. “Explain. Now.”

  Taenith exchanged glances with the others, who also seemed confused, especially Han.

  “I didn’t think it would be an issue,” he closed his eyes and exhaled. “But fine. Last night, when I was trying to find help for Han. I encountered an apostle and his child…” his words trailed off.

  Grizzel’s held his breath, dreading what words were about to come out of the draconian’s mouth. Defensive rage swelled in his gut.

  “Taenith…” Han muttered.

  The draconian snapped his jaw, “I didn’t kill anyone!” Holding back his fury, he bit his tongue. “He was a veteran of the war against my people. I wanted to take away from him what had been stolen from me. But…” His eyes and maw dropped.

  “You couldn’t do it,” Sham offered.

  “Of course not,” Taenith nearly spat, offended by the mere idea. The night still haunted him. He had left the man burnt, but alive all the same. It was the guilt of forcing the child to witness the scene, however, that still pained him.

  Grizzel breathed and smiled, then tip-toed over the dead deacon so he could reach his scaly companion, wrapping his still bleeding arms around him, or at least, mostly around him.

  “Good job buddy,” he smiled. “You did the right thing.”

  Taenith huffed. “You’re getting blood on me.”

  Grizzel laughed and stepped away, nearly collapsing. It was then when his cushion of adrenaline vanished, and he could finally feel the pain of his wounds to settle in.

  “Right, I should probably do something about that…” Sham said, summoning a green light that floated in bobbing-like motion over to Grizzel. As it kissed his flesh, it slowly dispersed and melted into him. In moments, his bruised and battered body began sewing itself back together. Even his fractured bones tightened and reformed inside of him. Aside from the stinging pain of being put back together, he was completely fine. Well, except for his armor, which had seen better days. What only a day ago was a pristine make of silvervine metallic mail, was now dull and broken. The chest cavity and under sections were torn, exhibiting major gashes and discoloration from fire damage.

  “Thanks,” he smiled.

  “So...someone mind telling me what exactly is going on?” Han interrupted.

  “Oh yes, of course,” Sham began. “If everyone is well, I would like to share some news. Han, this will help catch you up. But we’ll have to be quick. I’d rather not wait until more guards arrive.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement.

  Reaching into his robes, Sham withdrew a glass orb that, upon first glance, looked to store a galaxy. Underneath its shadowy exterior, tiny white lights, like miniature stars, danced inside an ocean of strange, black liquid encircling some kind of milky, artificial sun, all in the palm of the wizard’s weathered hand.

  “As you know, Han, you encountered a magic user in what you assumed to be an abandoned tower about a day ago. Well, to make things short, that tower was owned by myself and Tex. And the ring our thief stole was bestowed with several powerful enchantments. Taenith and Grizzel agreed to help us retrieve it, so we came to Oakheart to retrieve this scrying orb to find the thief’s location-”

  “You what?” Han cut in, looking at Taenith and Grizzel. “Why would we agree to that?”

  Grizzel rubbed the back of his head. “Well, uh, we kind of lost all the stuff we stole in the forest, so… we’re broke again. And paying them back.” Grizzel paused. “And there’s a chance we might get wishes too.”

  Han had a dumbfounded look on his face. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

  “He means you will be paid handsomely,” Sham interjected.

  Han’s thoughts raced. He planned on using the money they stole for his trip back to Kanda. But now this…

  “Enough to get me to Kanda?” he asked.

  Sham nodded. “If that is your desire. Yes. But of course, I will not force any of you to do this.” He eyed the other two. “This journey will be dangerous, and I cannot ensure your safety. If you wish, I can bring you out of the city, and we can go our separate ways. The choice is yours.”

  Han looked to Taenith, who gave him an affirmative nod. The same with Grizzel. A sinking sensation sent chills up his spine, but the thought of returning to Kanda and saving his family reinvigorated him. The bowman nodded a few times as he thought over the proposal. “Alright. I’m listening.”

  Sham smiled briefly before returning to his story.

  “After reaching Oakheart, there were…complications,” Sham said. “And as I was saying before our…friends interrupted us, I found the ring’s location.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the bastard,” Tex said, impatiently.

  “There is… one problem,” Sham replied, a subtle crack in his voice.

  “What? It’s just that bone guy. Nothing I can’t take care of again,” Grizzel added, tapping the blunt orb of his mace.

  Taenith rolled his eyes.

  “No. That’s not- Well-” Sham cleared his throat and faced Tex. “Perhaps we should talk about this alone.”

  The knight raised a brow, “What the hells for? Don’t coddle them, Ohen. Whatever it is, they can handle it.”

  Sham internally groaned at her statement. “I’m not afraid for them,” he spoke to her telepathically. “The ring. It's coated in...Jakob’s magical signature.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Tex choked, blinking in disbelief as the cursed name flooded her ears.

  “That…That can’t be. He’s dead. I killed him myself.” She replied.

  “What’s going on?” Han whispered to Grizzel.

  “I think they can speak to each other mentally. Or they’re just crazy,” he offered.

  Han pursed his lips and nodded. “I see…”

  “Are you going to be alright? I will not force you to do this. We can think of another way-”

  “No. He’s mine.”

  With a reluctant nod, Sham ended the communication spell and turned to the others.

  “Apologies, friends. Tex and I needed to discuss some things in private.”

  “Is something wrong?” Grizzel asked.

  Ohen scratched his beard. “I… used to have an apprentice. Jakob Valovitch was his name,” he cleared his throat. “That…thing you encountered. I thought it might be a revenant. Another soul escaped from sheol. But it seems I was wrong… In all our years studying Sheol, I never knew Jakob to master lichdom. But it seems he did. Because he’s back.”

  “Lich? Like a zombie?” Grizzel asked.

  Sham shook his head. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Umbral magic is usually reserved for…less than ideal purposes. Jakob found ways to use it for prolonging his life. It consumed his sanity. Over time, he grew jealous, angry… powerful. Until-” Sham sighed, glancing at Tex, who averted her gaze. “Well. He took a lot from us.”

  Taenith felt his chest tighten. He didn’t understand magic well, but he didn’t need to to understand the gravity of the situation. He could still remember - with vivid detail - the unsettling aura that paralyzed him - and nearly killed Grizzel - back at the tower. The undecipherable red symbols caking the man’s robes were practically burned into his mind, next to the memory that plagued him most - the stench. But this was soon replaced by regret; regret that he hadn’t killed the rotting heart at the center of Tex’s sorrow.

  “I’m sorry,” Taenith offered instinctively. Though, his words were largely meant for Tex, who shortly looked up to him before looking back at whatever had stolen her somber attention.

  “Well as long as we have my mace - and you - with us, I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Grizzel said with a smile, trying his best to uplift the atmosphere. “I mean we took out a deacon who nearly made us all into mince meat. How hard can a wannabe Sham be to kill?”

  “I applaud your optimism, Grizzel,” Sham chuckled. “And it depends. With the ring? It could be as difficult as killing a demi-god. Without it? Well, Tex already knows how that story goes.” he said.

  “A demi-god?” Grizzel asked. The idea of fighting someone whose power rivaled even the Grand Paladin made his stomach sour.

  “Which is why I won’t be able to join you,” Sham said.

  Grizzel dug his fingers into his palms, “Well why don't you just stick the knife in and twist it? How are we supposed to kill a god? With arrows?”

  Sham grinned “Of course not. The ring requires a spoken phrase to work. It’s worthless without it. If I come with you, it will only run the risk of giving him what he needs to unlock it. I’m confident you four will be able to handle him. And you’ll have Tex with you,” he said, shooting her a glance.

  “Use the mace if you must. I will deal with the consequences,” Sham said to her. But his words were not a suggestion. They were a command, accompanied by demanding eyes. She had only seen him that way once before. And suddenly, the weight of the hellish device hanging by her belt increased heaven-fold.

  “Where will you go then?” Grizzel asked.

  The wizard’s eyes fell upon the deceased apostle on the floor of his tower. “The cult’s presence this far north concerns me…” he tugged at his beard, thinking. “I have a friend in Taalund who might know what the Grand Paladin is planning… And if there are any other guild members alive, they’ll likely be there as well. Yes. I think I’ll head there for a few days.”

  “Enough talk. We need to leave. Now,” Tex interjected. She could hear the sound of shouting soldiers and crying civilians in the distance. Wherever the other apostles were, they clearly hadn't heard the fight over the sounds of the city’s alarm bells. Regardless, it wouldn't be long before the others investigated the guild center once their deacon failed to report in.

  Sham nodded. “Right. Sorry. I do have a habit of getting lost in my words,” he collected his thoughts. “The fastest way will be to-”

  “Wait!” Grizzel said.

  Sham raised a brow. “Yes?”

  Looking down at himself, he saw just how destroyed his armor had become. “Can we at least change clothes? We’re not exactly fit to fight in this, especially Han.”

  Han nodded. His shirt was still shredded and caked in blood. “He has a point.”

  Sham knew Tex was anxious to leave, but they were right. They couldn’t exactly fight in rags, and the city guard still seemed to be scattered elsewhere. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  “Fine. Right. Just...go down to the armory and take your pick. But please hurry. It won’t be long before someone’s bound to notice a missing deacon.”

  “Sweet! Upgrade time,” Grizzel smiled. Before long, both he, Han, and Taenith ventured down into the basement, leaving Tex and Sham alone amidst the ruins of their home.

  “You’re upset,” Ohen said.

  “No shit,” Tex scoffed.

  “Everything will be fine. I hope you know that,” he said.

  Tex huffed, “Jakob’s alive. That’s as far from fine as you can get.”

  Sham massaged his temples. “I know. Everything is moving so quickly. I’m getting too old for this kind of thing.”

  “At least you're not wasting away in that tower,” Tex said plainly. A few moments of silence passed between the two as they listened to the sound of bells banging in the distance.

  Sham smiled, “You know. I’m glad I met you all those years ago. I’m not really sure what I’d do without you.”

  Tex’s hardened frown broke into a subtle grin. “Someone’s gotta keep track of your world ending artifacts. May as well be me.”

  Sham chuckled. “Yes, well. I suppose that is a bad habit of mine.”

  ---

  Taenith led the way down to the armory, and Grizzel followed behind Han. The apostle was more than content that his friend was alive, but guilt still gnawed at him. Then, he remembered what Ohen told him. A cold, dark stairwell wasn’t exactly a great place for conversation, but he needed Han to know he was sorry.

  “Hey, Han, you got a minute?” he asked the bowman, who paused. Taenith noticed this, but opted to continue forward. His attention was elsewhere.

  A look of confusion sprouted over Han’s face when he saw that the apostle’s usual - almost iconic at this point - blooming smile was absent. It was a bit jarring how out of character it was for Grizzel to look…genuine?

  “What’s up?” Han asked.

  What felt like butterflies bounced around in Grizzel’s stomach; and he found his fist curling around the butt of his mace. He scratched the nape of his neck with his free hand. “I just wanted to…apologize.”

  “For what?” Han titled his head slightly.

  “Well…for everything. We shouldn’t have gone through that forest. I shouldn’t have charged that mage.” His eyes lingered on the bloody and grease-stained shirt that Han still wore. “And I shouldn’t have ruined your shirt.”

  Han watched the apostle squirm for a moment. It was more than awkward, but it was also… nice. “I guess I haven’t really processed the whole…dying thing yet. But it’s okay. I think.” He met Grizzel’s eyes. “Just…try not to do it again, alright?” he said, patting the apostle’s shoulder.

  “So we’re good?” Grizzel offered a hand.

  “Yeah Griz… We’re good,” Han replied with a smirk, then shook the apostle’s hand.

  Content with their rekindled friendship, Grizzel ventured into the armory. Dozens of drawers and open crates lined the walls - filled to the brim with spare pieces of armor, clothing, and various other wares.

  “Woah. How rich are these guys? This would cost me a fortune back in Kingswatch,” Grizzel said over the sound of clanging metal as he approached the magical assembly line and picked up a fresh piece of plate. It was strikingly similar to his own, except the breastplate had a large golden dragon’s face plastered on it.

  “Definitely taking this one,” he said, unclasping his ruined armor.

  Han, meanwhile, took to digging through the drawers that held most of the leather work. “I don’t know, but Sham seems to be able to make pretty powerful items just for fun, so I’d assume money isn’t really a problem for them,” Han said. A hint of envy in his voice as he picked up a fresh leather cloak. “Perfect.”

  While Han and Grizzel conversed over their new gear, Taenith couldn’t help but feel his gaze drift to the shattered armor in the back of the room. It loomed in the darkness like a sad ghost, abandoned and covered in the dust of time. It's only company: the infrequent watery gaze of Tex when she happened to visit. His heart ached knowing what pain his death brought to her. This Jakob, whoever he was, had done this to her. And even though he found himself angered at her in the moment for accusing him of lying, he couldn’t help but feel sorry.

  “Taenith, you alright there?” Han asked, adorned in a fresh shirt.

  Taenith nodded. “Yes. Just thinking.” Breaking his trance, he moved to one of the cabinets and fished out the largest set he could find. To his surprise, there were several armor pieces outfitted for draconians like him. But as he untied his rusted chain armor, he felt a sense of sadness overcome him. It was nice to adorn something fresh and, well, protective, but he had lived most of his young life in the scraps he mustered by and customized himself. Running his fingers over the slightly rusted chains, he found the patch of fresh metal he had painstakingly replaced after the guivespear he slew years ago impaled him with one of its razor talons. It took days for that to heal…

  Regardless. He knew it was time to move on from that small hole - from the years of scavenging for scraps. “To a new start,” he thought to himself as he folded his old chain and placed it softly on top of the drawer. Then, he grabbed a fresh set of plate mail and started dressing. It was a bit of a tight fit for his wings, but fortunately, leather covered the wide gaps in the armor, preventing any painful pinching that he sometimes experienced from his older, cruder set.

  Once he was freshly equipped, he considered swapping out his old scimitar for a more effective sword, of which there were many sitting in buckets alongside the various drawers throughout the room. But as he drew the blade and gazed into its faint brownish steel, he felt unable to let it go. It was a relic of his past - a sword he had carried since those fateful days. The scale mail he had obtained for survival, but the scimitar was a testimony to his promise to avenge his people.

  “Ready guys?” Grizzel asked. Han finished putting on a light set of leather armor, and tied a new quiver to his back. Then, he slung a fresh bow over his shoulder. Grizzel, too, finished donning a pristine set of Algadrian armor. Taenith thought he stood taller without that old apostle armor. It suited him far better.

  “Ready,” Taenith said, stowing his scimitar.