In the great central hearth of the inn the flames still licked at the logs there, but a new golden light was starting to fill the cabin, a dome of amber that pushed through the cracks in the door and crept in via the window.
“Everyone up!” He shouted as he threw off the thin blanket, covering him. “We’ve got combat!”
Urthin was on his feet immediately, springing up from a chair by the fire as if he had been waiting for Tarn to call out. Isca was second to rise, only to collapse back to the ground, clutching at her bootlaces.
Damnit Lash, bad timing for a prank!
Jental was at the door quickly, her conjured blades already out. Narsol joined her, peering out the window.
“Four figures outside.” The orc said, the golden armored pyramid already forming around him. “One is creating a light, too bright to see.”
Moving almost as one, Tarn and Urthin ran to the door to look with Narsol. As they did so, they passed through the growing golden membrane that was slowly filling the cabin.
Damn, Tarn thought as he realized too late. This field created by the Beacon Vestai was some sort of combat field. He was pretty sure the others would not be able to enter. Five minutes of still-time was long enough for several rounds of combat.
Turning, he could see his guess was true. Bog now pounded on the outside of the dome, sending powerful but silent vibrations across its surface. Behind her, he could see Isca studying the field with her goggles, while Aryo raced back and forth across the cabin, tossing wooden debris at the golden wall. Lash somehow still slept, curled up by the fire like a cat.
Gritting his teeth, Tarn threw open the door to the cabin.
To his surprise, he was not greeted by a wall of freezing cold weather but rather the appearance of a comfortable spring evening. Outside the massive golden dome he was sure the chilling tempest still blew, but within its confines the bite of the bridge’s weather was gone.
He raced down the rickety stairs as the timer within his head continued to tick the seconds by. Glancing down onto the snow-covered structure, he could see a long stone span now stretched off the trestle on its right side, leading to something crimson over the horizon.
Upon the rocky surface stood Yarex, flanked by the same three mercenaries they had seen on the docks. Tarn quickly called up enemy status as he reached the ground, turning his boots in the slick snow to face his adversaries.
They stood on the stone bridge that had been conjured between the two pathways, Yarex smiling at the forefront.
“It is good to see you, Arisfal!” Yarex shouted. There were seconds left before combat began. “I must say your bridge looks more hospitable than mine! I rather like the cold! All the fire and heat we’ve seen – much less fun!”
He was baiting him, distracting him. Tarn ignored it.
“Focus on Vestai, the Beacon.” He turned his head, speaking quietly so only his team would hear. “She’s the priority. Yarex will try to make this fight about him – don’t let him.”
“I’ll cut her down,” Jental muttered, grinning. “Just give me the opening.”
Urthin and Narsol nodded, exchanging glances. Chosen either through fate or design, Tarn appreciated who was on the field for this particular fight. Yarex had already shown twice he liked to delay. They needed to hit fast and end this quickly. This didn’t have to be complicated.
“Okay, that’s the plan. Smiley and I will give our Lone Wolf room. Narsol, the big boy is yours. Keep him busy.”
The orc peered across the battlefield at the lumbering form of Geron. The pain of his transformation was clear on the man’s face as he moved his misshapen body forward, but so was his determination. Narsol’s eyebrows raised in concern.
“I was unaware they made humans so .. large.”
As a group they moved out onto the segment that had been created between the two bridges. Tarn was relieved to see the force of Vestai’s created barrier seemed to push even the temperature out, as the cold and other statistics of the bridge faded from their interface.
Yarex was in the lead, smiling the same frustrating, enigmatic grin as he walked confidently forward. The winged Tona was already airborne, while Geron dragged his large tree branch behind him. Vestai was in the rear, energy streaming from her lantern to feed the shield.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to give in now?” Yarex called across the battlefield? “Your history suggests you will not.”
“Yeah, I’m predictably stubborn,” Tarn matched Yarex’s casual tone. “Why not come over here and see?”
“Good idea!” Yarex held his hand high, as a lance materialized in his grasp. “I think I’ll do just that?”
That’s Jental’s ability! Tarn scarcely had time to form another thought as the Monk exile landed directly in front of him in a burst of obsidian energy.
Winging above them in a circling arc, Tona launched a pair of thrown knives at Jental. The pair struck home for 20 AP damage, and sent the Lone Wolf back an extra 10 feet. Yet the tactic surprised Tarn, considering he’d think Yarex would want the fight focused on Tarn himself.
Unless Yarex wasn’t giving his team any game plan? Geron too seemed to be making his own decisions, as the big brute rumbled right past Tarn and engaged Narsol instead. Likely to the giant’s dimmed mind, the fact that the orc was physically larger meant he was the biggest threat. Yet he had gone to exactly where Tarn would have wanted him anyway.
As the first pulse ended and he prepared for Yarex’s attack on him, he smiled back at his attacker. There, finally, was their confident foe’s weakness. He didn’t have a team – he had mercenaries.
Tona banked to his left, his wings flapping aggressively. Tarn could see the strain on the man’s face just to keep himself aloft. In stark contrast to Isca’s smooth soaring, Tona seemed both unwieldly and uncomfortable in the air.
But it still gave him an advantage. Seeing Yarex’s point at Jental, Tona reached into his belt and pulled out what looked like a blue gelatinous bag. Closing one eye to aim, he threw the object at the Lone Wolf with surprising accuracy.
The thick glob of liquid landed at Jental’s feet, sticking her fast to the chilled icy surface of the bridge. Tarn had seen the [gummed] status before, it was just a stall. But it was effective, and it would keep Jental from reaching Vestai this turn.
Tarn waited for Vestai’s action, but the woman simply held her lantern out before her. A small blue flame was lit within its interior, flickering in the distance. When he checked his interface for her status, all he got was [preparing].
Preparing? Preparing what? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. Yarex’s team, chaotic though they might have been, was preventing them from reaching the Beacon so far. Yet she was also no longer powering the shield that allowed combat between the two bridges.
There’s a five minute time limit on that thing, he reminded himself. If Tarn was right, there was an opportunity to end the threat of Yarex here and now, but it would only last until the barrier created by Vestai failed. Then he suspected they would be summoned back to their bridge, and the race would continue.
A massive verdant tree branch formed in Geron’s arms. With a cry he swung the huge limb at Narsol, using the same attack that had knocked Bog into the realm’s harbor on the docks. In this case, however, the wooden weapon shattered against Narsol’s golden energy pyramid. Though he still took a reduced 30 AP damage, his [magnetic] status kept him in place.
Still wearing his enigmatic grin, Yarex summoned a sword identical to Tarn’s into his hand. Cutting across Tarn’s chest with
He looked like he was waiting.
As his the still-time released his limbs, Tarn wanted nothing more than to leave Yarex behind. Vestai and whatever she was preparing was the key here. Yet he had to satisfy the [taunt] requirements first, or his interface would allow any of his other actions. Trading one
He could hear Jen’s frustrated grunts as she used her first pulse to remove the material from her boots, removing the [gummed] status. Narsol sent a trio of magnets flying around his head, presumably to use in his second pulse to lock down the dangerous Geron. Seeing the rage in the giant’s eyes, Tarn figured Geron was probably staying with the orc anyway, but he was happy to see Narsol following instructions.
Of Urthin there was no sign, but that gave him no concern. The monk was getting in position, ready to strike the target Tarn was most worried about.
Tarn quickly selected
Over his shoulder, he heard Jental’s cry of exertion as she hurtled her javelin at a surprised Tona. Tarn’s interface informed him this attack was
As the weapon pierced the stunned Aerialist’s left wing, he took his 20 AP damage in a flurry of feathers and tumbled to the ground, landing with a painful-sounding crunch. It was a bit of improvisation, as he had instructed Jen to go directly after Vestai. Still, taking Tona out of the fight for a round would help them all get closer to the Beacon unaccosted.
Geron’s roar of frustration pulled Tarn’s attention to the giant brute. Narsol had added two of his strange magnetic cubes to the giant tree branch Geron used as a weapon, and now the massive mercenary was struggling just to get the weapon off the ground.
Tarn turned back to Vestai, just in time to see Urthin emerge from the Shroud directly behind her. As he advanced with both daggers drawn, she gave no indication she was aware he was even there. He moved to strike, and both his hands froze.
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Urthin’s twin daggers had stopped just before they made contact with their target. A thin wall of golden light came up behind Vestai, blocking her from the Monk’s attack. As his eyes went wide with uncharacteristic surprise, Urthin was then flung backwards several feet and slammed into the ground.
Tarn was thrown across the battlefield, landing hard on a rocky patch where the shield had melted away the bridge’s snow. Shaking his head, he looked back up at Vestai in frustration.
His interface said she was still preparing … something. They had failed to reach her, and failed to interrupt whatever she was planning.
As his timer ran out, he quickly checked the stats of his team and his opponent.
Immediately, Tarn felt a fresh pain in his back as he was struck from behind. Before he had time to even think, his world suddenly lurched out from under him. The form of Vestai grew ever smaller as he was pulled across the battlefield, the ground flying by him in a blur. Landing with a sudden thud, he found himself looking up at the smiling form of Yarex, who was holding a shadowed version of Tarn’s own longbow.
Above them the golden shield that kept the two bridges linked flickered, reminding Tarn that this battle had a timer on it. They were going to be separated soon, and there wasn’t likely time enough for either of them to decisively win this fight.
His head was awash with confusion. What was the play here? The only real threat on the field damage-wise was Geron, and Yarex himself to a lesser extent. Yarex was hard to deal with due to his ability to steal their actions, but Tarn was confident he had the better team.
Yarex shouldn’t be able to win this fight, and he was smart enough to know it. So, what was he up to? Just as on the docks, this again had to be a stall. In this case they were stalling for Vestai, but so she could do what?
“What is the point of this, Yarex?” Tarn stared up at his opponent, as the Sighted regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You know I’m just trying to help people. All our people!”
“Perhaps.” Yarex smiled a tired, wistful grin. He looked off behind Tarn. “But so am I. I wanted to give you one more chance to turn back. Perhaps if you knew more about who you fought alongside.”
Tarn followed his gaze. He looked past Geron, who slammed his heavy club into Narsol’s constructed obelisk. The magical pyramid shuddered but held. Past him, Tona was struggling to his feet, having used his action to regain his footing from where Jental’s weapon had dropped him.
His eyes fell upon Jental, who was frozen in a growing circle of light emanating from Vestai’s lantern. Tarn’s chest grew tight as the illumination condensed into a narrow beam of golden energy, striking Jental directly in the head.
Jental froze as she found herself completely enveloped by the brilliant light of Vestai’s lantern. The illumination began to shift and fragment, breaking glowing shapes that rapidly gained definition. A scene unfolded in front of her, as the image of several figures began to move around the Lone Wolf.
The golden light coalesced into five people, all of them dressed in clothing Tarn recognized as Realm nobles. There was a taller man and woman, clearly parents of the other three children. He could see an older boy in soldier trainee armor, his sash covered in ribbons and prizes. An older daughter with a beautiful flowing gown stood next to an array of gorgeous, displayed artwork, a paint brush in her proud hand.
In the center was a young Jental. Her clothing was as fine as her siblings’, but she wore no award or her sleeve, her face a clenched jaw of humiliation. The pride in the parents’ eyes passed over her, falling only on her more accomplished brother and sister.
Her story of being a hard-scrabble orphan on the streets had been all a lie? Tarn looked across the battlefield at Jental, seeing an emotion on her face altogether different than the false bravado and confidence that was usually there.
Shame.
The image lasted only seconds, but it was enough to drop Jental to her knees in anger as it faded, clenched fists shaking. The interface applied the [shattered] status to her, as her head dropped down and hid her eyes in shadow.
Shit. As the first pulse ran out, Tarn’s legs ached for movement. Yet the still-time granted no release, and forced him to watch as Jental held her head in anger and frustration.
And there was still another action for them all.
Tona wasted no time in taking advantage of Jental’s prone position. From his standing position he launched a flurry of ranged attacks with a pair of long, curved daggers. Absent of height, they did less damage, but it still added up against a foe that now could not fight back.
Geron was unable to attack due to the metallic cubes placed on his weapon by Narsol, but instead began to prepare a multi-turn attack of his own, the same ability that had sent Bog flying into the capitol’s harbor.
“Watch.” Yarex took no action, just spoke to Tarn conversationally, as if an attack against him wasn’t even needed. “Watch your friends learn not all is as they think. Is it so with you as well?”
Tarn waited to see where the light of the Vestai would fall upon next. Like a lighthouse, the golden beam rotated around her, sweeping across the snow-covered ground, until it fell upon the form of Urthin. He stood, eyes wide open, a look of confidence on his face.
“I fear not the light,” Urthin said proudly. “I have no secret I hide, no deceptions to protect. I see and speak with the eyes of history, unlike Yarex my sight has not been warped by ego.”
“Oh, you misunderstand!” Yarex called out across the battlefield to his fellow monk. “This secret is one I share with you, good Urthin. Not your memory, but rather a history you were not present to see.”
As it had done with Jental, the light of Vestai’s lantern quickly sketched out a scene before them. This one Tarn recognized, as the long walls and detailed paintings of the Vault of the Shattered Stone was drawn in the air around Urthin.
Tarn had heard his friend speak of the Vault in reverent tones. Dreaming of the day when he would reach the age of fifty and become a Scholar within his people. After a great ceremony, he would enter the Vault and be sealed within. He would join his parents and ancestors living out his remaining days in the deep libraries and treasures, spending blissful years surrounded by the oldest and most ancient texts and artifacts.
Dying in the arms of history.
There was a great wall on one side of the hall, lined with a hundred painted tapestries. Each was a long, thin painting of the Scholars in waiting. They formed an unending row, broken up by only a single red mark, where Yarex’s portrait had been covered.
He had broken his code with the Order and lost the right to receive the greatest of their honors. Yet now a second tapestry was marred, as a faceless member of the order ran a knife across their palm and covered a second face in the blood of exile.
The portrait of Urthin was covered in the mark of blood, the smeared liquid congealing and slowly running toward the stone floor below.
Urthin turned back to Yarex, a look of pure horror and shock on his face. On Tarn’s interface, the [shattered] status effect appeared next to his name.
“I – I have been cast out?” His jaw hung open, his hands shaking with rage and confusion. “Exiled? My - I – my whole life has been for that moment. My parents await me there! This cannot be, this has been all—”
“It is history, Urthin.” Yarex hissed across the battlefield. “You have allowed friendship to mar your objectivity. Rather than protect history, you have influenced it yourself. Your choices in the present have barred you from the wonders you will now never know.”
“Bastard,” Tarn shouted with anger. “Why would you do that to him? How could you—”
Urthin did not drop to his knees, as Jental had done. He simply stood there, arms hanging loosely at his sides, head down.
“It is the truth, that is all.” Yarex smiled, nodding toward Narsol. “And there is more truth yet to reveal…”
“Stay away from me, Realm-spawn!”
Tarn whirled at the sound of Narsol’s voice. The orc was staring across the battlefield at Vestai, eyes wide with emotion.
“Leave her!” Tarn shouted at the orc, though Narsol’s expression suggested had no intention of listening. “Stay on the brute!”
He needed Narsol to keep Geron tied down. As long as their most dangerous opponent was being managed, they could still control the tempo of this fight. Both Urthin and Jental would be diminished, but they could be effective even with single attacks.
They had answers for Vestai, ways to take her down.
Yet the look he saw in Narsol’s eyes told him none of his plans were going to work. There was a wild emotion there, one that was far past the anger and frustration he was used to seeing from the orc. This was pure fear.
No damnit! Tarn watched helplessly as Narsol’s pair of strange cubes flew across the battlefield, orbiting a surprised Vestai once before attaching themselves to her. The orc himself then streaked after them, golden pyramid elongated from the speed of the movement. In an instant, he was in front of the Beacon and was shouting almost incoherently.
“You shall not!” He cried, his emotions rendering him unable to finish his sentence. “You will not!”
Geron stood confused, looking down at where Narsol had been just moments before, tree branch balanced upon his shoulder. Tarn felt just as bewildered, struggling to create a new plan of attack.
Tarn guessed he could reach Narsol, but both Urthin and Jental were exposed on the ground. Urthin was not currently wounded, and none of Yarex’s team seemed to be threatening him. Jental on the other hand, was directly next to Tona, whose knives were still out.
As much as he wanted to intervene with the raging orc, Jental wouldn’t survive without him. There was no choice.
Tarn flew across the battlefield in a blur, coming to a stop directly in front of the surprised Tona. The smaller man glared up at him, then struck him with one of the curved blades he held. Tarn felt the bite of poison entering the wound, but pushed it aside.
[Restore] was a free action, and he knelt to Jental’s side and activated it. Shaking her head, she gave him a pained nod and struggled to her feet. The confusion in her eyes told him the emotional toll of the reveal had not been lessened, but at least the structure of the dungeons would allow her to act in the next pulse.
Tarn quickly looked over his shoulder at Urthin. He was about twenty feet distant, reachable in a move on his next pulse. But he would be for Jental as well.
As his first pulse timer ran out, he looked in her eyes and cocked his head in the Monk’s direction. Jental nodded, and that was enough. She still looked stunned, but he was confident she’d get to Urthin and get him on his feet.
That allowed Tarn to use his second action to reach Narsol. As the pulse began he activated
“Narsol – what the hell are you doing?”
Giving no indication he even heard Tarn, Narsol continued to hammer away at the stunned Vestai. Using an attack called [Relentless Pummel] his two cubes repeatedly pounded into her armor, circling and striking over and over. Tarn could see this came at the cost of Narsol’s own AP, but the wild look in the Orc’s eyes suggested he was beyond caring. He clearly was willing to die to prevent his truth from being revealed.
“Yarex!” Vestai’s panicked cry rang out, her words punctuated by her pained grunts from the repeated attacks. “I cannot maintain—”
Tarn and Narsol were frozen once again, as Vestai stood before them both, her chest heaving from exertion. The light in her lantern flickered, strobing as its intensity began to falter.
There was a burst of snow as Yarex landed directly in front her, a dark replica of Jental’s javelin in his hand.
“Release us,” he said over his shoulder. “Send us back.”
The golden dome around them began to shudder, blinking in unison with the failing candle in Vestai’s lantern. As it did, she began to ghost away. Though Tarn was unable to turn and see, he was sure Tona and Geron were vanishing as well. Whatever opportunity this fight may have represented was evaporating along with them.
“I think my point has been made.” Yarex said with a smile, his face becoming immaterial. “There’s still time to reconsider your path.”
Frustration building inside him, Tarn resisted the urge to lash out at the vanishing Monk. Waste of time, he reminded himself. Besides, that wasn’t where his ire was directed. Yarex and Vestai had indeed opened his eyes to his teammates. But whereas Jental had simply hid something about her past, and Urthin learned a fact even he didn’t know, the real deception had been from their new supposed ally.
The fact that Narsol had risked everything, even his own life, to prevent his truth from being discovered only spoke to how dangerous his lie must be.
“You’re keeping something from us, and I’m tired of waiting to find out what it is.” The moment still-time released him, he advanced on Narsol. “You were willing to kill that Beacon, not for us but instead to keep her quiet. You are going to explain yourself right now and—”
An ear-shattering roar suddenly crossed over the length of the bridge, a deep and powerful sound that shook Tarn’s bones within his skin. The very air around him seemed to grow colder as the low, guttural cry continued for several seconds, finally rolling away like a distant thunderstorm.
Tarn turned toward the sound, looking across far end of the bridge, where a small icy pond could be seen. He saw no sign of anything creature approaching, but he did not need to see their adversary to tell it had arrived.
The ground slowly shook with its advance, and he could hear the distant, angry grunting of the beast’s approach.
The bear Icegore was here.