Interlude 3 – Skaldan: Written in Blood

  Skaldan sat wide awake on the dungeon floor, with his back pressed firmly up against the slab of stone so that he could stretch his cold feet towards the warmth of the campfire. The half-giant rested his head against the sides of a crumbled stone column, nearest to the chamber’s entrance, and Trelen was sound asleep on the other side of the campfire. The faint repetition of Reingard’s light snoring, and the perpetual thrumming of the strange, magical energy were the only sounds to be heard.

  But it was well enough for Skaldan.

  Quiet moments—or rather, still moments—seemed fewer and farther between these days than ever before. The whole city was abuzz, and rightfully so. Once word got out what was really happening down here… Skaldan shuddered at the thought of what might happen up above if things down in the dungeon were permitted to continue as they had been. He didn’t know anything about demons, aberrant ley lines, or anything of the sort, but he knew his brother quite well.

  Skeggan had gone out of his way to keep his intentions secret, and everything they learned from Cynric practically confirmed to Skaldan that it was the right decision, especially if Skaldan’s fears about their being another bad actor in their midst were true. Knowing Skeggan, he probably wanted to wait until the last possible moment, to swoop in and knock down all his ducks after carefully lining them up in a row. He shouldered all the burden, took on all the risk, and all the while kept up his pleasantries and princely demeanor.

  He was a real hero.

  As for Skaldan…

  Frankly, he was out of his depth. And it was starting to bother him too.

  He thought he understood what it would take to bring some semblance of justice to bear. But then, this wasn’t really about justice, was it? It was always about vengeance, even he could see past the original delusion of his grand scheme now. How he would get to the bottom of this situation and become the hero in his brother’s stead. Well, he was in too deep now, and the crushing weight of just how ill-equipped he was, both mentally and physically, was starting to dawn on him.

  He was nowhere near as powerful as his older brother, so how could he possibly hope to face the same sort of challenges? If he kept going down this path, what hope did he have to succeed, let alone survive?

  Skaldan glanced through the flames suddenly to where Trelen’s resting body shifted from one side to the other, capturing his wandering mind for but a moment.

  Now there was someone who desperately wanted to be in this position. Or, at least, Trelen gave the impression that he wasn’t capable of turning back, or rather that he couldn’t under any circumstance. He was a skilled sorcerer, no mistaking that, but he wasn’t at the level of others in Frostwall. Hell, he was the same age as Skaldan! And yet that didn’t seem to bother Trelen in the slightest bit. He understood things that Skaldan didn’t, was able to ask questions and provide answers that went way above Skaldan’s head. He seemed to act on impulse, but those very same impulses led them further to the truth.

  Maybe Skaldan was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be the hero.

  But maybe, just maybe, he could muster his own strength and still be of use to the one person who seemed more likely…

  “Might I trouble you for some water?”

  Skaldan peered across to his left, to where the dwarven artificer had just sat upright. Groggily, he rubbed the back of his head, licking his lips as he looked towards Skaldan expectantly.

  “…Of course.” Skaldan replied belatedly, reaching back to procure his own waterskin.

  Cynric took a long few sips, made a bit awkward by his how his hands were bound, but seemed content enough to hand the waterskin back thereafter, enough to say, “Many thanks. Are your companions…”

  “Asleep.” Skaldan nodded, “It’s been a few hours since your, eh…”

  “I see.” Cynric interjected, frowning as he turned to look at where Trelen slept, “I will have to apologize when the young man comes to. I… did not mean to become that way.”

  Skaldan creased his brow, “What he said upset you that badly?”

  “When you spend much of your life studying certain aspects of the world,” Cynric replied slowly, as she adjusted himself to a more comfortable sitting position. Folding his legs crisscross, he continued, “Aspects until only recently you were made to believe were irrefutably unchangeable, only to have that reality shattered in a singular moment of unprecedented anomaly, perhaps it is a miracle that my mind did not leave me long ago.”

  “This demon… what is it?” Skaldan asked, “Why do you believe it shattered your reality? Did… did it do the same thing to Skeggan?”

  “Hm? No.” Cynric mumbled, “Your brother was foolish enough to risk his life to save mine own. He was consumed by a surge of maleficent energy as a result, much the same as those poor souls back in the other chamber. I… wish he had not done that.”

  Skaldan’s eyes widened momentarily, “How did he survive then?”

  “I know not.” Cynric confessed, “It would seem that the things I know, and the things I thought I knew, are at an irreconcilable impasse. This demon has made sure of that.”

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  “Trelen knows…” Skaldan murmured, perhaps more to himself than anything. He peered up, and looked at the artificer more sternly, “You should trust him. Trelen. He can help you, and maybe you can help him. I don’t know how, but I swear that he’s your best bet at stopping this.”

  “That boy?” Cynric’s gaze narrowed, as if the remark puzzled him, “He does seem knowledgeable, but this is not something one should involve themselves in. It will spell only trouble. Better to leave Calvergia, before the storm hits.”

  Skaldan shook his head, “He won’t run. Not the other way, anyway. And neither will I. Only difference is, he can actually help you. More than me, and more than Skeggan I bet too.”

  “The help of one person, whomever it might be, will not be enough in this matter.” Cynric dismissed, “Too many forces at play, too many unknown variables still lurking about…”

  “That’s why you need me.” Skaldan smirked, “I might not be good for much, but I have a little sway in this city. More than Trelen, that’s for sure.”

  “What are you proposing, princeling?”

  “Once we get out of here, Nelkaar will do everything in her power to protect you, I can almost promise you that.” Skaldan insisted, “I’ll make my father swear it if it comes to that. You’re too important to the future of this Kingdom.”

  “Hmm… the champion of Frostwall. Eh?” Cynric rubbed the ends of his beard. He sighed, “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be the acquaintance of princes. If I am to work with your kingdom so openly in abating this crisis, I will need certain guarantees, certain protections—”

  Skaldan nodded, “You’ll get them. And we’ll bring it all to light too, for Skeggan. What the Guild has been doing, the Church of the Divine, Gurogan, these cultists… they’ll all pay for the part they’ve played in letting this happen.”

  “And of the demon?”

  “Hm.” Skaldan pondered. In truth, he had no idea. “You’d be better off talking to Trelen about that—”

  A cacophonous rumbling punctured the stillness of the dungeon suddenly, causing stone from the faraway ceiling to break away and shatter against the ground.

  “Disruption event!” Cynric shouted frantically, who was already up on his feet and running towards the far side of the chamber.

  Everything happened a little too suddenly for Skaldan’s liking thereafter. He was quick to activate his ‘darkvision’ ability, with what large chunks of stone falling to the ground at their feet in every which direction, it seemed a necessity. Reingard stumbled out of the tent soon enough, shouting obscure obscenities as he tried to make sense of the situation. A few moments later, Trelen’s light spell had lifted into the air, illuminating what was otherwise now quite clearly the dungeon quaking.

  Even with his hands bound, the artificer seemed to make light work of scooping up bits and bobbles from his makeshift workstation, throwing all into a hempen sack, before ushering himself back towards the rest of the party.

  “If you don’t intend to be crushed, I suggest we leave this chamber immediately!” Cynric shouted.

  Skaldan didn’t need much more convincing than that, and so he hurried after the artificer as the dwarf bounded towards the chamber’s exit. Quickly drawing his dagger as he ran, Skaldan made a slight incision on the flat of his palm, just enough to get his blood pumping. The moment he did, he allowed the intrinsic rush to come over him, which in turn heightened all his senses to well beyond his normal limits.

  In this state, he really wasn’t much different than a wild beast. Every smell, every sound… he was deeply harmonized with his surroundings at that moment, and he had no doubt that if he were to see himself in a mirror, a beast is what would be looking back.

  “What the hell happened?” Trelen’s voice rang out in Skaldan’s ear, and the sorcerer was to his right as Skaldan glanced over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know—” Skaldan shrugged, who couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at such a bizarre situation. Only the Gods, or perhaps the ancestor spirits, should have deigned to make light in such a predicament. But seriously, he couldn’t help but laugh. If he didn’t, he really might have just screamed instead.

  Exiting the chamber, Cynric turned right, heading in the opposite direction of the main chamber with the swirling energy vortex. Glancing left though, Skaldan got a good look at the main chamber for a split second. The golden energy had darkened, more orange than yellow now, and seemed to be more… wild? Unruly?

  Something caught Skaldan’s attention at that moment then. It wasn’t quite something that played into his heighted senses… or maybe, it was? This energy, the way it appeared to him… his bloodborne abilities weren’t necessarily equipped to deal with something of this magnitude.

  And yet, there was something familiar about it suddenly. Something that wasn’t there before. Of course, he hadn’t been in this state before, but that shouldn’t have mattered. He could feel something in the swirl of the energy, a sensation. An emotion?

  What was it?

  “This way, Your Highness—!”

  Grabbed by the scruff of his neck, Skaldan was ushered in the opposite direction by none other than Reingard himself.

  “Trying to get yourself killed?”

  “—Sorry.” Skaldan winced, completely failing to realize the entire dungeon was coming down around them. It was only by and large thanks to Trelen’s shielding magic overhead that they were able to avoid the more serious threats.

  Fifty yards ahead, Cynric came to a halt in front of one of the golden wisps of light, though this too was a darker coloration than before.

  “This one—” He insisted, clearly out of breath, “Will take us out to the seventh floor, as close to the wayshrine chamber as can be afforded.”

  “How can you be sure?” Skaldan felt impelled to ask, for the sake of his companions, “I mean, look at it? It doesn’t look right.”

  “I think he’s right…” Trelen nodded, having seemingly just cast the same spell he’d been using to check the other wisps previously, “I’m not getting anything bad off it.”

  “No offense, but how can you be sure?” Trelen insisted. He had every confidence in Trelen, but something about all of this just didn’t feel right. His body was screaming that something was off, like his blood was boiling in anticipation of something unknown.

  What was that thing he felt?

  “I can’t.” Trelen shook his head, “But do we really have a choice?”

  Skaldan nodded, “Yeah. Maybe we avoid the bullshit magical energy that’s turning red suddenly? That seems like a promising idea.”

  “You don’t even know what’s happening—”

  “And neither do you.” Trelen argued.

  Why was he getting so heated up over this? Did he trust Trelen or not? Did he believe the things he’d been pondering only a short while ago or not? It just wasn’t fair; they went off Trelen’s instincts plenty. How could Skaldan possibly be expected to go against what his own body was telling him in the same circumstances?

  “No time, you two.” Reingard voiced, “Either we’re going through, or we’re going forward, we can’t sit here any longer.”

  The corridor quaked violently once again, with more stones falling around them. But this time, a sputtering of magical energy shot down the hall like a bolt of lightning.

  “You’re the party leader.” Trelen replied, throwing a consoling glance at Skaldan in the process, before adding, “You decide.”

  “Damn it all…” Reingard growled, “Everyone through.”

  “But—”

  “That includes you.”

  Reingard wasn’t playing around, and before Skaldan knew it, he was stumbling backwards into the wisp of light. Skaldan hoped he was wrong, but his fate was written in blood. Whatever came on the far side of this wasn’t going to be good.

  Least of all for him.