Leona
The landscape vanishing behind them, and the blackness slowly creeping along after them, cemented it in Leona’s mind—this Rift was unlike anything she’d ever heard of before. Sure, places with chambers that were connected in theme? Absolutely. But normally there was a means of escape through the entrance. Even in that tomb of sandstone, they could have probably returned to the entrance—somehow.
Here? There was no going back. And the scenario they were faced with . . . Leona felt like the Rift was testing them, or testing their abilities in leadership roles. The shade-people had referenced Kryos as Guildmaster from the get-go, and listened to Leona’s instructions without question.
Everything is just off, she thought as she turned back to her duties of finishing off getting people situated on wagons or on foot. There’s just something very weird about this Rift—
“Listen here!” Kryos shouted, interrupting her thoughts. She turned and saw him, standing on top of the phantasmal, a duplicate of their custom-built Guild Hall. He looked the part of a Guildmaster: imposing, resolute, in command. “When we give commands, you need to listen. You all running in panic almost killed one of your own. You can’t do that again. Listen to Leona and Vaelin’s instructions. If you can’t follow those, we can’t keep you alive.”
Those last words were tinged with a near-threatening intimidation, and the way that Kryos leveled his head, angling it, gave him a near-sinister appearance. Once more, Leona saw the shadow of the half-dragons in stories flicker there for a moment. The caravan listened, that was good.
The way some of them flinched was not, and that concerned her.
Don’t go overboard, she thought.
Then, she moved over to the MEDICAL wagon and saw Vaelin was in the back, tending to a few bruises. “How are you holding up?” Leona asked, keeping her voice curt and direct.
Vaelin glanced up. “I’m fine, thank you,” she politely replied. “You did well back there, managing people.”
Leona just nodded in reply. “We’re moving. Get comfy here, or come join us on our wagon.”
Vaelin hopped down out of the MEDICAL wagon, winced, then followed Leona as she led the way up to Kryos and their Guild Hall. He was standing next to it, shield on his arm and mace in his hand, held at the ready, but he looked relaxed. Leona climbed up top, and then when she looked down, saw Vaelin easily getting up on her own.
She has decent Agility, Leona thought as she settled into her driver seat.
“Let’s move!” Kryos shouted down the line.
Leona pushed the slot next to her foot, and the vehicle moved forward. She glanced back, and saw the wagons join the slow movement, but noted the creeping darkness inching behind at its consistent, gradual pace. She turned to face the front, which was just more cracked road and ruins on either side.
This Rift has different rules, she thought as she continued her prior internal chat with herself. The road will probably keep collapsing behind us as we clear chambers, so long rest stops are out of the question. The wagons matter, civilians panic, and I would bet if we got to the next chamber, but didn’t engage with it with a plan to take a breather, monsters would be summoned . . . or the darkness would advance faster.
As they trundled forward, bouncing back and forth thanks to the cracked road, it all clicked for her. Dragontrail, her and Kryos—and Vaelin for now she supposed—had to function as the command, guard, logistics, and emergency response for this entire caravan. In all likelihood, the more people and wagons to make it to the final chamber and survive, the greater their rewards would be.
She looked down at Kryos, then back at Vaelin. The latter was seated in the way most of her Species sat—feet folded behind them, sitting flat on their shins. Leona had no clue how it was comfortable to them, but it seemed to be perfectly fine for their bodies. Leona said, “We should talk about the last chamber. Debrief.”
Kryos replied, “I agree. Let’s talk about it. What was good, what was bad, what can be improved—just like Pavish did with me.”
“I’ll start,” Leona said. “Vaelin, you did excellently with identifying the problem with the bridge.”
The woman beamed at the praise, and practically gushed, showing the most enthusiasm she had thus far with her words, saying, “Oh! Well, it wasn’t much, just me looking down at—”
Leona interrupted her, “Kryos, you did great holding the bridge up. I did my job of getting the cargo distributed and dumping what wasn’t necessary for weight.”
Vaelin’s expression dimmed. Leona saw it, filed it away, and hated that there was no time to soften the edge. Praise could come later. Mistakes would get them killed now. She had no clue if they were close to the next chamber, and going over mistakes was more important than giving praise. Leona had learned long ago that you used a compliment before you told someone how badly they did.
“When the monsters got closer, people panicked,” Leona continued. “That was bad. Very, very bad. Vaelin, you weren’t able to control them to keep them calm. What happened?”
Vaelin’s voice returned to its polite, curt, and to-the-point demeanor, like it was when they had met in the clearing. “I arranged them into groups, but the approaching monsters frightened them, so they stampeded. One broke through the bridge—I got him across and mended his wounds. No casualties.”
“But you took injury to heal yourself,” Kryos said. “That was not ideal. Was there any way to stop them from panicking?”
“I don’t think so,” Vaelin replied. “People are like herd animals when emotions are riled up. They go with the flow. If . . . if I had been able to get in front of them, maybe I could have directed the flow.”
“Or been just as likely to be run over,” Kryos replied. “I don’t see any room for improvement there. Let’s move on.”
Leona internally agreed and continued, “We got the wagons across without issue, until the monsters got close enough to attack. They managed to hit the pack animal, injure it, but Kryos—you got their attention. Good job there.”
“I don’t see any room for improvement from me on what I did or the actions I took,” Kryos said. “Do either of you?” he asked as he looked up.
“I don’t think there was room for improvement,” Vaelin replied.
“Same here,” Leona added. “Vaelin, I think you proved yourself useful, but it is obvious you are not limitless. Post-chamber you still have lingering injuries.”
“I do,” Vaelin replied. “But, on the whole, the caravan seems to trust us more.” She gestured behind them with an outward sweep of her spear, held in the left hand along with her strapped-on shield. “They listened right after we got across the ravine.”
“True,” Leona replied. “They were alive, got across alive, and are still alive—let’s keep it that way as best we can.”
As she glanced back over the caravan behind them, a discomforting thought flickered across her mind. People had weight like cargo. They could break a bridge like cargo. They could unbalance a wagon like cargo. But they were not cargo. The fact that she had needed to remind herself of that left a sour taste in her mouth.
I had to treat them like cargo, she thought, because if we have another bridge situation come up, and we have to move fast, now Vaelin won’t have to split them up into groups. But if I can help it, I’d rather not have to do it again. Definitely not in the real world.
She was nudged out of her thoughts as Marn, the Caravan speaker, walked up next to Kryos. “Thank you for helping with the bridge. Thanks to you all, we were able to get everyone across alive, and all of the wagons are intact.”
Kryos didn’t reply, just looking at the man for a moment. After a tense few seconds, Kryos said, “Try to keep them in line and listening to us.” He was direct, but almost harsh.
Gentler, Leona thought, wanting to say it to him. We don’t know if how these shade-people view us counts in some way.
Leona chose to interrupt. “How far is it to the Final Waystation?”
Marn looked up at her as they kept going. “Ah, well, that depends on how fast we go. The road changes, you see.”
Vaelin, voice taking on a tinge of curiosity, asked, “What is a Burden-Binder? He seemed a little . . . odd.”
“Ah, well, he is, or was, responsible for taking on the emotional toll of travel. There are places in these lands where emotions weigh heavy on everyone, and he can . . . eat them?”
Kryos looked back at the wagons. “What is the Route Charter?”
Marn grinned at that, chest puffing with pride. “It gives us the authority to travel along this route. Without it, we cannot travel on the main road.”
Why have a Charter if it doesn’t confer some benefits? Leona thought. This road isn’t defended anymore. I could understand if the Charter was like a permanent ticket to a well-guarded or kept toll road.
Kryos asked, “What is the Warlord Ascension?”
Marn shrugged. “No idea.”
Leona’s Read the Room Trait went off. She knew that was a bald-faced lie. But, she didn’t want to call the man out on it right here and now, and risk tension or fracturing in what looked to be a very delicate situation. She would need to wait until they were at a point where she could isolate him before she questioned him.
“Who was supposed to command the caravan before Kryos got here?” Vaelin asked.
Marn, once more, shrugged.
Leona knew it was another act of subterfuge, but resigned herself to not knowing the truth. Instead, she thought, the Rift we are in is inspired by or draws upon a world that operates on laws, tolls, and charters. But, it’s a shadow of its former self, made of dead caravan paths and ruins of old glory. Fantastic—a Rift of bureaucracy and corpses.
The road ahead began to narrow as hills rose on either side, forming a natural choke point. “Next chamber ahead, I’d guess,” Kryos said. He looked at Marn. “Back to your wagon.”
The man bowed and said, “Of course, Guildmaster.” He turned and went back to his wagon, climbing on as it kept rolling.
The sound of bells began ringing in the distance. It was a clamoring, disharmonious chorus that grated at Leona’s sensitive hearing. She reached into her hip pouch and pulled out some wads of cotton packed tightly with wax and pushed them partially into her ears—only dulling a bit of the sound and not deafening herself wholly.
She kept driving them forward, and they trundled along, finally reaching a point where the hills were high on both sides. Before them, a grate had been erected, blocking off the entire path. There was no way the wagons could go up the hills—they were far too steep. The wall had a tower on one side, and wagon-wheels were carved into the tower as decoration. A metal portcullis blocked the road proper.
Above that portcullis, on the rock above that formed the wall supporting the impediment to their path, was a sign that read, ALL ROADS HAVE A PRICE.
I don’t think we can bash our way past this chamber.
Kryos
Kryos sighed and slung his shield onto his shoulder as he put his mace back onto its ring on his belt. He was still tender from earlier, as Vaelin hadn’t been able to take on all of his wounds. He darted his vision to his HUD for a moment.
-----
HP: 234 / 260
-----
Still far better than before, he thought as he read the sign above the portcullis. He walked in front of the now-stopped Dragontrail wagon, which had ceased moving fifty feet in front of the one-hundred-foot-wide wall that spanned the whole gap. To either side of the road, blackened, charred wooden posts stood at slanted angles, with old ledgers nailed to them.
The tower on the right was tall, giving a nice vantage point into the surrounding environment. Atop the tower, bells rang. The tower was made of some black stone, interspersed with bone-white mortar, giving the whole setup a macabre appearance that was only accentuated by the bones and skulls ingrained into the wagon-wheel motifs along the foundations.
Lanterns glowing a deep orange hung from coin scales that were suspended from the parapet above, giving the whole area a hauntingly eerie glow that sent chills down Kryos’ spine.
The thing looked cursed. It brought to mind stories his dad had told him, about dread graveyards where ancient undead abominations raised armies of ghouls.
“Hello?!” Kryos shouted.
At his words, shapes manifested. Behind the portcullis, two black-robed men, with pale skin, long-white hair tied back into topknots, who were holding books with pens in their hands, stood patiently. Atop the walls and the tower, armored figures were seemingly summoned into place. Their armor was made of old coins—silver, bronze, gold—all punched through and woven together to make shimmering, enticingly expensive scale armor that sent Kryos’ treasure sense flickering off. They held crossbows, and leveled them at the Guildmaster.
Marn ran up next to Kryos. “Hail!”
One of the black-robed men walked through the portcullis and approached. “Marn Vell,” he said, voice crackling like burned pages being crumpled up and then let loose to fly in the breeze. “You are recognized.” He then looked at Leona. “Treasurer, you are not.” Then Kryos. “Shield-Beast, you are not.”
Kryos felt a flicker of rage at the insult, but kept it in check. He wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.
The robed clerk waved their book at the Dragontrail wagon. “This is outside the old charter.” He looked at Marn, voice taking on a sinister tone. “And the old ways only account for two wagons, Marn. We demand payment. You may pay in the following: coin, pain, memories, or one Burden-Binder” —his eyes tracked to Vaelin— “or Bond-Bearer.”
That rage Kryos felt in his stomach, the burning ember that was flickering, exploded into an inferno. “We’re not fucking paying with a person!” he shouted. “No way!”
And not with coin, either, he added mentally. I should just shield overhead, charge the portcullis, smash it down, and then we rush through—if everyone holds something overhead, the crossbows will have less of a chance of hurting anyone.
The robed clerk looked at Kryos and cackled. “Break the gate, claim the road. They will move faster if they fear your hand.”
That made Kryos pause, and the heat simmered in place. Was that an invitation? The man before him was just giving him the option to destroy the impediment blocking his path? He looked back at the caravan behind him, and could see the inky blackness far behind, beginning to inch a little faster to close the distance. Time was running out.
His mom’s words echoed in his mind. He was a dragon, people feared his kind. He could use that fear—why shouldn’t he?
But, he looked up at Leona, and remembered her legal move in Valleyview, and saw her mouth the words, “let me talk.” His eyes flickered over to Vaelin, and the woman looked terrified.
That gave some clarity to the situation. Kryos needed a Mender to make Dragontrail work, that part was true. Vaelin was a Mender. Her healing, as he felt firsthand, was potent. Better than Tavan’s—star-seal rest him or whatever the phrase was. But Vaelin was not a toll payment; she had answered the Rift call, explained her limits, trusted strangers enough to enter a Rift with them . . . Kryos wouldn’t repay that by letting this toll man have her.
Kryos knew he could break the gate, but he trusted Leona. In a low voice, he said, “Leona, take the lead.”
For a split-second, she looked surprised, then her smooth smile returned.
Leona
Leona climbed down from the wagon and walked up to the toll man, who was a few heads taller than her, but shorter than Kryos. She felt intimidated, because there was a whole line of crossbows aimed at them, but she also knew bureaucracy thanks to an early childhood of being in a mercantile household. “Let’s talk. Do we have a place to sit? You know, a proper room to discuss in?”
The pale man’s skin became a sallow hue as his grin widened, and he swept his tome to his left. Stones in the tower wall, some of the mortar at least, shifted a little, revealing an opening that was a hidden door. “Please, Treasurer of Dragontrail. And do bring your allies if you like. Marn as well. But, this must be brief. The hungry road chases you.”
Leona followed the man into the tower and was surprised to find a plain, wood-paneled room. It was very boring and to-the-point, with a single circular table with two seats. One for her, one for the toll man. He sat on the far side, and she took a seat opposite him, and clasped her hands in front of her. The toll man set his ledger down, flipped it open, turned it around, and then slid it to her. “This is our ledger. Maintenance on the road requires fees, tolls to pay the guards—standard rates.”
The numbers seemed to swirl and move, and Leona couldn’t track them. The letters spelling out each category crawled across the page, and even moved onto the table. The number on the bottom right was solid, and was astronomical, reading as the final payment amount required for their full caravan.
The value in coin would bankrupt Dragontrail entirely—assuming the manifested-spectral wagon was somehow connected to their real one. That led her to conclude that pain, memories, or the Burden-Binder were the only actual ways to pay. But first, she had to figure out if they could access their funds.
“Kryos,” she said as she looked back and to her left where he was standing. “Is your hoard there? Or here?”
Kryos frowned then walked outside. She heard him sprinting, heard the clang of the wagon being opened, then a few seconds passed, another clang of it being shut, and his heavy tread and clatter of armor returning. He came back inside and was breathing heavily, a look of confusion and shock on his face. “It’s here. How is it here?”
“I think this is our wagon,” Leona replied. “It may be an echo of ours, but that does not mean I want to test whether damage carries over.” She looked back at the ledger, and began talking to herself in her mind as she only did when she was facing extremely hard decisions.
Coins? Out of the question. We can’t afford it. Pain? Vaelin might offer to take it on, but then we won’t be able to rely on her healing. Burden-Binder? We fail an optional objective.
She looked back at the numbers, and then kicked herself. She had been trying to figure out what was cheapest, rather than if the demands they were making were even legitimate. Was this entire operation a racket, or was it actually grounded in legitimacy? Predators loved making victims negotiate prices before asking whether anything was owed.
Given what they experienced in the first chamber? They didn’t owe these road operators a single thing. “Let’s talk,” she said. “Who maintains this road? It looks to be in terrible shape.”
The toll man frowned, and the sallow skin turned white again. “Ah, well, see the funds have been tied up in investments—”
“I see,” Leona interrupted. “When was the last repair scheduled?”
“Well that’s hard to figure out since the repair crews come by so infrequently—”
“What guarantee of safe passage do you offer? We had to fight off monsters and had several passengers nearly die. Seems like you’re not doing your job in the slightest.”
“The guarantee is provided by the Charter knights who guard the roads and are supposed to be on patrol—”
“Why aren’t they patrolling?”
The toll man pulled his robe a bit looser in the face of Leona’s bevy of questions, as if he was feeling the heat of rigorous examination and knew that he was under scrutiny. Leona had seen people in the situation plenty of times when she had pressed them for information using leverage.
“A toll is a fee for a service,” Leona said as she stood up and closed the book. “If the road is still hungry, then you stopped being tollkeepers and became bandits with paperwork.”
The ledger in front of her crumbled away to dust, and the toll man looked down at the pile of ashes, jaw dropping. “No,” he whispered. “I . . . I took in the fees, I tried to hire, but they didn’t come and listen—” There was a loud crashing noise that came from outside.
The crash outside told her the portcullis had fallen, so the chamber had accepted the argument. This was confirmed by a man in the caravan shouting, “The gate is gone!”
“You should’ve hired better people,” Leona said as she glanced back at Kryos. “Let’s go. They have no legitimacy here.”
The toll man shot up, and a section of the ceiling slammed down as hidden stairs dropped. “You’re not going to get away that easily! We own this road!”
Well, Leona thought, so much for civility. She rapidly pulled her rapier.
The tollman’s fingers split into ink-black quills that had a razor-sharp edge, and he slashed at her with that same hand, ink splashing out like a viscous acid. Leona ducked under the strike and spray, then leaped at him, driving her blade at his throat.
Vaelin
Vaelin thought things were going rather well. Leona had the toll keepers on the ropes with her talking, and was even seemingly able to get the chamber to recognize her winning when the ledger crumbled.
Or, at least, Vaelin assumed that was the win condition of the chamber. Apparently, it wasn’t, as a section of the ceiling slammed down, revealing stairs, and an armored, coin-scale-covered guard descended from above. She already had her spear in her left hand, the same limb that had the shield strapped to it. Shifting it to her right, she grabbed the shield’s handle.
Kryos, to her left, didn’t even grab his shield. He just charged the stairs, grabbed the descending guard’s long knife-hand with a claw-extended hand of his own, and manhandled the other combatant, snapping their wrist like a twig—though the toll guard didn’t respond with any sound.
Vaelin saw the bone protruding from the compound fracture, but no blood or meat. “They’re undead!” she shouted.
“Not this one,” Leona replied as she got up from her cross-table tackle which had resulted in her ending the life of the toll man. “Put your Skill on Kryos. The crossbowmen should be unable to hit the caravaners given the range. Marn! Stay down here.” Leona went to the stairs and got right next to Kryos, slipping her rapier into her sheath and pulling the long, rondel dagger, which she shoved into the undead guard’s gap between hip and groin.
Okay, Vaelin thought as she listened to Leona’s orders. She is definitely a tactician.
She used Cease Feeling III on Kryos, and the silvery stream of light shot out from her to his back, forming a small sphere between them which would store all damage within, reduce it by fifteen percent at her current Tier, and then apply that total damage divided by ten every second until the damage buffer was fully drained.
Thankfully, she could keep it going even if she broke line of sight, which was important since Kryos shoved the undead guard upward as he ripped them in half, and coins went clattering from their broken armor.
Marn grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. “They’re going for the wagons!”
Vaelin shouted, “Kryos!” and turned. The half-dragon stopped his ascent into the tower and looked at her. “Wagons! They’re attacking!”
Kryos glanced at Leona, and the Infiltrator looked at Vaelin. “Can you put that buffer on multiple people?”
“I can—”
Kryos interrupted as he went past. “I have heavier armor and can take a beating. Put it on Leona, she’ll clear the tower and archers. You and I are going to help everyone else.”
Vaelin didn’t question the Anchor’s orders and swapped the Cease Feeling to Leona as the Infiltrator ascended the tower. She followed Kryos outside, and took in the battlefield. To her right, the tower, which extended skyward with bells ringing up above. The wall itself with no portcullis blocking the way, though along the top a few scant crossbowmen fired rounds toward the caravan.
On the ground, the one remaining toll man was running forward with a spear, and six of the undead guards were charging as well—though slowly, as they clattered on ancient bones.
Vaelin saw that odd, purple-hued, black-spark filled bubble appear around Kryos as he sprinted toward the caravan, and he grabbed his weapon and shield as he moved forward. Vaelin made to follow, but paused as the toll man pointed at her and spoke. “One carries pain. Many pass clean. This is an acceptable payment. Do you accept our terms?”
Vaelin could hear a scream as a crossbow bolt found its mark and someone was injured. Instinctually, she wanted to say yes, as she thought, this is what I was made for. Her whole time as a Mender in the Adventurer’s Guild she had been in previously, she had been treated and told that it was her job to help others at her own expense—that it was her duty. Her burden to carry.
She replied, “What does it do?”
The toll man came over, seemingly instantly traversing the distance with one step, and voice low, said, “A Burden Mark. We vanish, chamber clears, you suffer for everyone else.”
Vaelin was tempted as another scream echoed out.
But then the toll man was smashed by a massive, black mace. She blinked a few times, then heard Kryos growl. “You are not coin. Help the injured.” She heard the sounds of his heavy treads running off once more.
She felt her heartbeat quicken and thought, Did . . . did he mean that? That I’m not expendable?
Vaelin turned and took off at a run, catching up to and overtaking Kryos as she sprinted not to the enemies that were now closing with the lead wagons—he was doing that. No, she made for the people who were being injured by flying crossbow bolts that had found some marks. She called out orders. “Get behind or under the wagons!”
People listened, and she kept her shield raised as she made herself as small of a target as possible, moving down the line of wagons, as she looked for injured people. She found one who had suffered a bolt through the thigh, and knelt. “It’s near an artery,” she said. “I’m going to have to pull it out and then immediately take some of your pain, but not all of it.” She looked at another person nearby. “You need to push with your hands and hold. I’ll stop most of the bleeding, but keep pressure until it clots the rest of the way.”
She yanked the bolt out and used Damage Transfer II, taking on some of their pain. She let out a cry of pain, but managed to save them.
The clattering of coin-covered chainmail reached her ears, and she looked up. Down the column, one of the undead guards had made it past Kryos, and was about to reach one of the groups of civilians. Vaelin moved forward, keeping her shield up in front of her. A loud thunk and impact on her left arm told her she had just successfully taken a bolt on the defensive barricade.
She reached the undead and stabbed with her Artifact, lancing the undead right through the skull. The mighty weapon once wielded by some hero jabbed through the helmet, skewered the skull, and knocked it clean off the body, causing the whole thing to collapse to the ground. She shook the skull off, crouched behind her shield, and looked for the next injured person. As she did so, she caught sight of Leona atop the wall.
She was a rapid combatant, taking hits here and there which filled up the tethered bubble which then slowly redistributed the harm she was suffering. But she moved quickly, jumping from crenellation to ground, scoring lethal strikes at weak points—seemingly having identified from her climb up the tower that the weak spot of the undead was removing the head from the rest of the body. She pried one of the skulls off by leveraging her thick dagger into the crevice between helmet and gorget.
Then, Vaelin panned her sight down and saw Kryos. He was holding the front, not driving them farther back. He kept them in a set position, just as an Anchor should. Whether he was taught that or it was instinct, he looked sturdy; a rock in the middle of an unrelenting storm where waves crashed upon it as an endless tide. His mace strikes weren’t well aimed—he couldn’t seem to strike the head, and thus his blows were just crushing armor and breaking limbs. The undead guards kept coming, and he rebuffed them with shield bashes and more hits of the maces.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Vaelin gauged her numbers briefly.
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HP: 132 / 240
MP: 52 / 240
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She let the Skill affecting Leona fade, so that the remaining damage would finish its distribution. Vaelin had to retain enough MP to transfer the Treasurer’s injuries to herself, and then heal them. Thankfully, it seemed that the combat was coming to an end. Vaelin moved forward, shouting out to Kryos, “On your right and behind!”
The man glanced back and then affixed his sight on his foes. “How do we keep them down?!”
Leona’s voice from atop the wall replied. “Get the heads!”
“Oh,” Kryos replied.
Vaelin thought he was just a clumsy attacker who couldn’t hit targets—how wrong she had been. The Guildmaster aimed his strikes and knocked heads off of bodies with precise blows. She managed to pierce one more of the monsters through the temple, piercing helmet near-instantly and popping the head off of the spine.
Kryos was sucking in breaths, and said, “I’m not harmed. Great job.” He then glared at her. “Never offer yourself as ransom.” The words came out as a near-threat, but there were overtones of warmth and camaraderie, as if he was really saying, ‘you’re too valuable to be traded’. Whether he saw her as a thing of value like other Adventurers sometimes saw Menders—she wasn’t quite sure.
No, Vaelin thought as she discarded the thought. He said I’m not coin. I think it was authentic warmth.
Leona waved from the top of the gate. “Got them all!”
Vaelin saw a message in the top of her HUD appear.
[Secondary Objective Updated: Route Charter Preserved.]
Marn came running out of the tower. “You did it! The way is clear!” He let out a deep, belly laugh as he doubled over.
Leona vanished from sight, then reappeared at the bottom of the wall and walked over to them.
Did she just teleport? Vaelin thought with shock. That’s a very high level Skill. How’d she get it?
Leona seemed to read her mind, and grinned. “Shadow-based teleportation.” She then looked at Marn. “So, are we able to move on?”
The man recovered and stood up, nodding. “Seems like it.”
Vaelin looked at Kryos and Leona, the latter of which doubled over and groaned in pain. “Mind healing me?” she asked.
Vaelin nodded and in rapid conjunction used Damage Transfer II and Stabilizer’s Reprieve, draining her MP—which was fine because thanks to her Manaflow Fur II it would come back rather rapidly at forty-eight per minute—and was at a decent spot when it came to HP.
“Thanks,” Leona said as she straightened up and went to the tower. “We should grab all of those coin-scale vests. That’s money we can add to the vault.”
“Agreed,” Kryos said. “We should get some caravaners to help.” He looked down the line. “Yeah, with the darkness coming. Hey!” he shouted, “We need more hands to help!”
As the duo moved off to loot, Vaelin thought, they didn’t just use me like others during Quests, or treat me as disposable . . . they seemed to care. Then, her HUD blinked. Ah, right chamber completed, Experience gained. Let’s deal with that SAVE System.
[Your Experience has reached the Threshold to qualify for a level up!]
[You have gained 1 level! Level 29]
[Choose 1 Stat Point to Allocate!]
Essence.
[Confirmed!]
Kryos said something to Leona, and then she glanced over at Vaelin, and then walked over. Leona turned away, but quietly said, “Look, we aren’t in the habit of giving people away like some payment. We’re not starting that habit. Don’t try selling yourself with whatever weird debt thing was going on in this Rift. You’re worth more than some debt.” Then the Infiltrator and Treasurer walked away to join the Guildmaster in recovering the valuable, coin-based armor.
Vaelin stared after her. Leona made it sound like Vaelin was just some numbers on a page, or a resource to be tracked. There was some level of care there, but given the framing, Vaelin was more ready to believe in it.
Leona
[Your Experience has reached the Threshold to qualify for a level up!]
[You have gained 1 level! Level 29]
[Choose 1 Stat Point to Allocate!]
Strength.
[Confirmed!]
Lifting up the coin-scale vest was a lot easier, and she tossed it over the wall. Leona was moving down the rest of the wall’s length and finally got to the end, then used Shadowstep to get down. It was an odd sensation when she used the Skill; her entire body tingled like it would when she was on the verge of having a limb fall asleep, and then she stepped into a shadow, looked where she wanted to go, and just appeared there as if she had taken that one step and one step alone. Everything else just snapped into place.
Kryos was at the back of the wagon, taking all of the coin-shirts from the various caravaners and then loading them into the vault. He had a look of delight and satisfaction on his face. Vaelin was sitting on top of the Dragontrail Guild Hall, and didn’t seem to be paying much attention as she looked down at her lap, lost in thought.
Leona walked over to Kryos and then looked back to the creeping darkness. “We’re running low on time,” she said. “We should get a move on.”
Kryos looked back and frowned. “Ah, yeah. Well, we’re almost done.” He turned back to his task of loading up the vault, which thankfully had a lot of space left.
Leona climbed into the wagon as well, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Kryos barely uttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
“What do you think of Vaelin?”
Kryos didn’t respond at first, and after a few seconds of organizing his hoard, he looked up at her. “I like her personality, but don’t like that she was almost ready to sacrifice herself for everyone else. If she doesn’t do that? Sure, seems good.”
Leona couldn’t help but agree. “Right then. Well, in any event, thanks for letting me take the lead on this chamber. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you broke the portcullis, but I bet we would’ve failed that other objective with the Charter.”
“Probably,” Kryos replied. “You’re the brains after all.” He accepted the last of the coin-scale-armor vests, locked the vault door, then slid it shut. “Let’s get moving, and I’ll level up while you drive.”
Kryos
The moment Kryos locked the vault, a deep warmth settled throughout his bones, and he saw a flurry of messages flicker across his HUD.
[Your Hoard has reached the EHV (effective hoard value) to qualify for a level up!]
[You have gained 6 levels! Level 24, Level 25, Level 26, Level 27, Level 28, Level 29!]
[Choose 6 Stat Points to Allocate!]
The coin-scale vests were not merely coins punched through and woven into armor. Every single piece of armor carried the weight of the toll authority that had bound the road. They were a coin and ransom wealth all in one. There were a lot of them!
I want four into Strength, and then two into Essence.
[Confirmed!]
[You have reached a level increment of 5!]
[You have gained a Skill point!]
[Unlock a new Skill, or Enhance an existing Skill?]
Ah, well, now I have my two current Skills maxed out, so it’s time for a new one.
Kryos pondered his mom’s insights. Dragons were unique. Whereas Classes received Skills that were related to their capabilities, his Species received Skills based upon their desires, but had to conform to their specific sub-type of the Species. A Mass Dragon was like a watered down Gravity Dragon.
So, he could do anything that his mom could do, but a lesser version. His Pressure Field was a weaker version of her ability to cause creatures to collapse to the ground and be pulverized under the pressure of gravity. Singularity Stance was a lesser version of her ability to turn herself into a finite point in space that was immovable and had incredible density—which translated to toughness. He didn’t have any ranged attacks, and his dad did say that an Adventurer should have a ranged combat option at all times.
I want a new Skill that lets me fight at a distance.
[Confirmed!]
[Mass Driver (Class: Mass Dragon) [Active, 10 MP/100 feet traveled]
[You designate any unattended object no larger than your hand within a foot of you, and accelerate it in a straight line at any target within line of sight and range.]
Huh, Kryos thought. What does that look like?
He looked down at the ground, and spotted one of the undead monster’s skulls. With a thought, an expenditure of ten MP, and nothing else—the skull went flying at rapid velocity, easily as fast as a crossbow bolt, and shattered upon impacting the tower.
“What was that?” Leona asked as she wheeled to face the sound. Vaelin did, too.
“Just a new Skill,” Kryos replied. He walked alongside the Dragontrail wagon and glanced up at Vaelin. “How were the injuries across the caravan?”
“Everyone’s alive,” she replied with a soft, relieved expression. “Injuries, but nothing that I couldn’t handle—and don’t worry, I didn’t take on more than what would overburden me.”
Kryos felt quite satisfied with that. “Good. Let’s get moving.” He walked a few steps ahead of the Dragontrail wagon and the caravan moved forward, past the walls and now-gone portcullis. The hills sloped away, revealing another barren landscape. As he looked back, he felt a trickle of fear down his spine, as the black nothingness had advanced very rapidly. “Maybe we move a bit faster,” he added.
Leona looked back. “Oh, yeah. Took too long looting.” She looked at Kryos. “But, it was necessary.”
“Was it?” Vaelin asked.
Kryos looked at her. “If you end up signing on with us, you’ll learn why.” He kept his gaze on the rear of the caravan, and as the blackness consumed the wall and tower, he realized how easily he could have smashed the portcullis—the metal rods weren’t thick, and he was strong. A few solid mace whacks and he could have dented enough segments to bend a section aside—enough for wagons to get through.
It would have been faster, but there would have been casualties from crossbow bolts raining down.
Strength would’ve opened a road, he thought as he looked ahead, but Leona’s route was the better one. We should have won the chamber, however that works, without a fight, since she figured out it was a rigged exchange. The book disappeared—I think we were cheated. Then, his eyes flicked up to Vaelin. Unless . . . he looked at the Dragontrail wagon. Is this Rift designed for us?
He thought back to the first chamber. It was designed for him, absolutely, because without him they wouldn’t have been able to get people across. For Leona, of course, because she got the cargo across. Vaelin, perhaps from what little he knew of her thus far, because she was a people-person, and had to manage groups of them in a chaotic situation.
The toll gate situation seemed like it challenged Kryos’ impulsivity to solve a situation with strength, Leona’s logic and problem-solving capabilities, and then Vaelin . . . she almost succumbed to an offer that would have probably cleared the chamber without violence.
Maybe that last chamber was meant for her? Maybe . . . he looked up at Leona.
“Can Rifts be tailored to people?” Kryos asked.
Leona looked at him. “What?”
“My question,” Kryos said, “can Rifts be tailored to specific people? I mean, imagine if some other people got the call to this Rift. They wouldn’t have their own wagon to be transported into this place.”
Leona pursed her lips. “Maybe they would just have coins off the table in the prior chamber?”
“Or perhaps,” Vaelin said, “It is something that the Quest Conclave has a hand in.” Kryos looked at her and she continued, meeting his gaze. “There’s always been a rumor that the Rifts are somewhat random, somewhat controlled. What I mean by that is there have to be Rifts to alleviate the strain of mana in the world and keep a random Rift from opening. So the rumor is that the Quest Conclave selectively opens Rifts.”
“That could make sense,” Kryos said as he pondered the possibility. “When we started up the mobile Adventuring Guild idea, the Quest Conclave said they’d be keeping an eye on us, or something like that. Could they have opened a Rift meant to test the concept? Test Leona and me?” He locked his gaze with Vaelin. “To test you. By the way, never offer yourself up like that. Got it?”
She looked away, as if ashamed, and nodded, but remained silent.
Kryos looked at Leona. “Good job in the toll negotiation thing.”
“I am amazing,” Leona said with a grin.
Vaelin muttered, “It was meant to make us choose who was expendable.”
“Then it picked the wrong Treasurer,” Leona replied. “Stupid challenge for a chamber anyways. I out-logicked it, and we still had to fight?” She shook her head and sighed in exasperation. “Asinine.”
Marn walked up behind Kryos. “Pardon, Guildmaster. The next section coming up has many routes to take. The Route Charter should help. Want me to bring it up here?”
“Yes, please,” Kryos said. “The road should be wide enough to have the wagon alongside our lead here, yes?”
“It should,” Marn replied. He dipped his head and walked back along the line of wagons.
A few minutes later the CHARTER wagon came rolling up alongside, the wooden wagon conveying the single, steel box. Marn produced a key from around his neck, climbed onto the wagon, and unlocked a panel, then turned some knobs inside, and dropped the other sides, revealing a glowing page. To Kryos’ surprise and amazement, a dazzling, shimmering, white projection of the map shot upward and floated in place about five feet above the page, which showed a winding series of paths that looked like a chaotic scramble.
The road behind them was there as well—but the black void had eaten much of it.
Kryos looked ahead, and saw the road widen into a massive field. Broken wagons were strewn all about, with wheels stacked like funerary cairns that marked graves of past expeditions that had not made it through the treacherous ground and whatever dangers lurked in that place. Axles jutted from the dirt at odd angles, pointing up in various directions like spikes that one could trip and impale themselves upon.
Signposts littered the roadside, pointing in different directions, giving conflicting instructions, and as Kryos looked at the projected map, he saw it warping, and warbling. “Marn, why is that happening?” Kryos asked, pointing.
Marn clicked his tongue. “The road has been dead for too long.”
Leona cursed aloud. “It’s random guesswork, then,” she added.
Vaelin said, “I feel that every wrong road will hurt.”
“What?” Leona asked.
“Do not let them walk unless they have to. The road hurts,” Vaelin added. “Everyone should remain on the wagons.”
Leona looked down. “Hurts how?”
Vaelin’s ears flattened. “Not the body.”
Kryos saw glints of light, and as he focused on them and their caravan came to a stop, he felt the familiar warmth of his treasure sense. It went off all across an arc in front of him: large amounts of wealth.
This chamber would be dangerous for him.
Leona
Leona stood up. “I should go ahead and scout. It would be fastest and safest to have me just check each route and mark out the safest path. I should be able to pick up on traps with my Hazard Sense.”
Kryos, voice stern, said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Leona snapped her eyes on him. “Why?”
“We should stick together. It would be best to just have us all near one another.”
Leona shook her head. “It would be better for me to be in front of everyone, in case there is a trap or some type of hazard. I have the highest Agility out of all of us—I have the best ability to react.”
Vaelin looked around them. “There’s several paths. How will we know the right one?”
Leona paused in her disagreement with Kryos and looked out across the seven paths through the crashed and crushed wagons before them. There were route markers next to each. Wooden signposts that were just vertical sticks, and most of them had a coin pressed into them, hammered into place with a simple nail. Gold, or silver. Two had no coin, and the wood was rotting on one, while the other had the signpost snapped in half.
Those with gold coins marking the path looked to be well-traveled, with wheel-ruts moving forward, and almost no obstacles. The ones with silver coins seemed less traveled, and moderately covered with wreckage. The two with the broken signs were completely untraveled, with no disturbed ground, and looked like the hardest to navigate.
Those have to mean something, Leona thought.
She glanced at the floating map beside them from the Charter, and the first few paths—the seven corresponding to the ones they were looking at—all stabilized and showed the same color coins.
Ah. As we explore this place, the map will keep track of where we have gone.
Kryos looked at the different sign posts. “Well, which way? And how do we determine which way to go?”
Leona looked at Vaelin. “You can sense emotions, right? You were able to tell the road can hurt people.”
“I can,” Vaelin replied.
Leona nodded. “Then what we do is us three take the Dragontrail wagon forward.” She pointed at the Charter wagon. “This thing will fill out as we travel down different paths. The safe paths should map out, and then Marn can guide everyone along.” Leona looked over at the man. “Can you do that?”
Marn looked at her and shook his head. “We cannot do that. We are bound by the rules of the road.”
Damn Rift rules, Leona thought. Okay then. I should travel with the Charter wagon and explore a bit to try and see what each route does. I can let everyone else go behind me in a bit of a longer line. A little separation.
“Okay,” Leona said. “Here’s the plan. Vaelin, you are going to be at the back wagons. One of those two. Kryos, at the center. I’ll be here up front, a bit ahead, but not too far. That’ll give me time to react if something bad happens, without risking anyone else.” She looked at Marn, who was standing next to the Charter wagon, and then glanced at the driver of that wagon. “You two are right behind me, so I can look at the map whenever I need to.”
“Understood,” Marn replied as he climbed onto the Charter wagon.
Kryos looked at Leona with concern, but ultimately nodded and made his way back down the line of wagons. Vaelin slid down the Dragontrail wagon’s back side and joined him.
Leona moved the Dragontrail wagon forward, and reached the center of the seven-way split. “Alright,” she mumbled to herself, “which way to go?” It made the most sense to try one of each, to see what the outcome of each was. Then, they could use that information to determine the correct path.
She moved to the signpost that was rotting, and moved the Dragontrail wagon into the gap between two wreckages. The wheels treaded through the gap and she passed by shattered wood and spokes, axles threatened to stab anyone who might fall off the wagons, and a sense of foreboding sent chills down her spine. Still, Leona drove forward, and to her surprise, she ended up behind the caravan.
Vaelin looked at her quizzically. “How’d you get back there?”
Leona looked back, and saw the hungering blackness approaching still in the distance. “Right,” she muttered. She looked back at Vaelin, and then moved up next to the PASSENGER Wagon she was on. “What sense do you get from the rotten signpost path?”
Vaelin turned that direction toward the front and held a hand out. “I . . . it feels . . . dull, as if someone has experienced loss and is empty inside. Hollow.” She looked back to Leona. “That is what I feel.”
Leona nodded. “Okay. Next, can you do the same for a silver coin-stamped path, and then gold coin-stamped?”
Vaelin nodded and turned to each in turn. “Gold . . . I sense . . . fear. But not the type of fear of injury, more akin to . . . the fear of the unknown. Pain is there, too, but it is the pain of growth through grit and sweat. And for silver . . . I feel panic . . . but immense satisfaction, like the best, sweetest fruit bursting in your mouth.”
Leona frowned and set her mind to work as she drove the Dragontrail wagon back to the front. Okay, she thought, gold seems like it's going to hurt, but could lead to some potential progress. Silver seems like it’ll be scary, or fraught with peril, but we’ll get through really quickly. Let’s head toward silver, next.
Leona moved toward a silver path, and as she started down that, she passed between a broken wagon on her left, which had been turned over, as if raiders had shoved it over to plunder it before running off. The one on her right had been spilled over as well, but with the top facing her, she saw a bounty of gemstones had been dumped out, and those made her eyes go wide. The sheer amount of wealth that was just there, having appeared out of thin air, was suspect, and she scanned for some sign of danger.
A black-robed, floating, humanoid figure manifested in front of her, a few arm’s length away. It’s voice was raspy, and it said, “Ah, you seek a road through the Wheelmaze.”
Leona crossed her arms. “I’m working on it. What is your deal?”
“I offer this faster route,” the shade said as it gestured to the pile of gems. “And incentive. Abandon your SUPPLY wagon, and your whole caravan may pass through this passage, along with taking these gems. One wagon is lost, many more preserved, and time is saved . . . A Treasurer should understand acceptable losses.”
Leona was very still as she contemplated it. Behind her, the caravan was waiting for her to begin charting a safe path, and the black void that threatened to consume them crept forward. One less wagon meant fewer people to protect, fewer things to manage, and she wasn’t dealing with real people or property—this was all a manifestation of the Rift. None of this was real. The logic was clean, made sense, and there was a very real financial incentive that she knew would carry through to the real world, because Kryos had leveled up from his hoard.
That made the decision very tempting.
The figure continued. “Time matters, speed matters. Your supplies can be replaced, but a dead caravan cannot.”
Leona looked at the gemstones once more. But, she knew the golden rule of traveling long distances, and smugly stared at the shade as she slowly put the wagon into reverse. “If a route only works after we abandon supplies that keep us alive, it isn’t a shortcut—it’s just pushing back the date we die. Sorry, but no thanks.”
The shade vanished, and Leona headed toward one of the gold-coin marked roads. The moment that the wagon slipped into familiar grooves, she heard the Dragontrail Guild Hall groan under weight of some mysterious load, but it held.
Please don’t break, she thought. We spent so much money on you. Hold together.
The wagon got through the channel and reached a new intersection of three paths. “Got it!” she shouted. “I know how we figure out the paths.” She looked back, and saw the other wagons slowly following. Then, she saw Kryos, and an idea flickered across her thoughts. “Kryos, use your treasure sense—I want you to find me the largest cluster of gold coins—single gold coins—on posts.” She glanced around herself to confirm, then added, “They’re all around your-stomach-height.”
Kryos stood up on his wagon and closed his eyes. “To your left is the biggest cluster.”
Leona looked at the left-most path, which was marked silver. In front of her was a gold one, and to her right another gold one. “Okay, well, we can’t go directly left. What about to our right, or in front of us? Which has more?”
“Right.”
Leona moved that way, and was at yet another intersection. She looked at the Charter map. Despite seemingly having gone back in a horseshoe shape, the hovering, magical display showed forward progress. “Yes! We have a system! Gold coins are safe paths that just put strain on the wagons—but we’ve evenly distributed the weight, so that won’t be a problem! Kryos, keep directing us to the most gold-laden path, and we should be out of here in no time!”
Vaelin let out a scream of shock, or pain, and Leona immediately pulled the brake, drew her rapier and rondel dagger, and began moving back that way, knowing something terrible had just happened.
Vaelin
The MEDICAL wagon at the back of the caravan was attacked. Vaelin was standing on the PASSENGER wagon, which was one away from the rear. The wagon itself wasn’t damaged, but the passengers crammed onto it to keep them off the road who were—
She saw the monster at the last second. It was a shaggy beast, that was bipedal with stout legs, four arms that emerged from its chest, and two heads that each were currently munching down on one of the shade-people. It had grabbed four of the people in total, and was actively eating them. The monster was at least twelve feet tall, and had to be three times as massive as Kryos was.
Marn shouted out, “A Wagon Ogre!”
Vaelin was trembling in fear as she took in the horror. Broken wheels were dragged behind it as harness straps were strewn about its chest. Tar coated its body like a sticky sap, and its teeth were like the spikes of axles of the carts strewn about the chamber they were currently in.
This wasn’t just people dying—this was a major crisis. The wagon was being threatened, the remaining people were panicking and Vaelin knew that if they got out of the wagon that they would feel the pain of the road itself—she could feel it like a palpable miasma, rising from the cracked flat stones. A chorus of agony and misery which threatened to consume those who stepped foot on it. She could sense the strain the environment was placing on the psyche of everyone present as a cloud that hung low over them all.
I have to act! she thought. I’m part of this team!
She turned to her driver. “Get this cart moving forward. Now! Get us out of reach!” She then turned to the cart behind her that was under attack. “Move! Get out of there!”
Leona landed on the wagon just next to her, and then leapt to the wagon under attack. To Vaelin’s surprise, Kryos was on the ground, running alongside the caravan, but he didn’t seem dragged down by the negative emotions that clawed and cloyed her up. In fact, the shadows and tendrils that smoked off of the road tried to grip at his head, but seemed to find no purchase.
Do half-dragons have innate resistance to mental influences? she asked herself. If so, then he can stay there just fine, and I don’t have to worry about taking on that burden.
The wagons moved, and she knew she could keep distance and still support her allies from that range. Leona had her rapier out, and flicked it across the wrist of the monster, trying to get it to drop one of the soon-to-be victims. The monster instead used that screaming woman as a bludgeon, and swung them at Leona—and the Infiltrator wasn’t going to be able to dodge in time from the rapid counterattack.
Vaelin threw out a Cease Feeling III on Leona, and saw the tremendous impact slam down. The sphere that formed between them indicating the accumulated injury, swelled in size to match that of her torso. “That pain is going to be intense!” Vaelin shouted, finding her voice of authority again. “Don’t get hit like that! I can’t transfer that much!”
“Got it!” Leona shouted back.
Kryos had reached the monster by then, and the entire world around him crackled with that purple aura that sparked black, and began fraying at the creature’s body. His body seemed extremely sturdy, as his feet crunched into the ground, and he swung his mace into the knee of the monster, sending it buckling and tumbling down.
Leona took advantage of the opening and stabbed one of the heads in the eye with her rapier, blinding it. That side dropped the still-alive man.
Vaelin threw out a Cease Feeling on him and shouted, “Get onto a wagon!” The sphere that formed between her and the man was not silver, but rather a dull bronze. She swallowed, as she knew it was not damage to the body, but something mental: fear, despair, or will. The effects of the road, all of it would be reduced, yes, but it would impact the man and probably kill him if he had never felt the weight of such a heavy load.
It’s mine to carry, she thought as she used Damage Transfer and took as much on as she could. The malaise hit her instantly, and she felt the usual sense of despondent hopelessness overwhelm her. She sat down and let out a sigh. “What’s the point?” she mumbled.
She heard a grunt of pain, and then a roar that was not the monster’s, but one of defiance that sounded primal, tinged with a desperate struggle. She looked up, and saw Kryos, shield-arm grabbed by one of the monster’s hands, mace-arm grabbed by another, and he was being pulled in two different directions. The roar was from him, as he tried to perhaps intimidate the monster. Leona was stabbing with wild abandon, crying out, “Vaelin! Do something!”
It’s . . . it’s my burden, Vaelin thought. But I’m carrying so much already. But then the way he had treated her flashed through her thoughts. I can carry a bit more for them—they gave me a chance, so I need to prove myself worthwhile. It’s my chance to get into a new Guild, I have to try.
She stood up and in rapid succession used Cease Feeling on Kryos, Damage Transfer on Leona, and then also used Damage Transfer on Kryos. All of the pain Leona had suffered earlier that had been slowly distributed and was causing her to move much slower—well, a good amount of it—she took upon herself. And then, all of the damage in Kryos’ pool, she pulled onto herself.
The pain she felt was indescribable, and she barely held onto the spear she needed to save them. The one thing she had from the Rift she had lost allies in. It wouldn’t happen again. She pointed the spear, and spent all but a few slivers of her MP to activate Bound by Fate. The spear of an ancient warrior glowed with a brilliant, crimson light, and then a beam of that same hue lanced out, slamming into the monster, and dealing the difference in her current and maximum HP in damage . . . which at the moment was nearly all of it.
The monster was erased from existence, and Vaelin fell down, clutching her stomach, and she couldn’t hold back her tears. She had saved them. She had also done exactly what had killed her first party by inches instead of all at once: taken too much, too quickly, because proving herself had felt more important than surviving.
Kryos
Kryos screamed, and it turned into a primal roar, his last defiant call to stave off death as his arms popped and ligaments tore. His claws tore into the monster’s wrists, and he knew he was close to freeing himself as the thing’s muscles ripped under his claws.
Just a second more! he thought. I can hold out!
Then, the pain vanished, and in a flash of red that consumed his whole vision, the monster had vanished, he fell flat onto his ass, and Vaelin screamed then sobbed.
Kryos grabbed his mace and shield, got to his feet, and saw Leona, leaning against the wagon, looking extremely depressed. She met his gaze, and there were huge bags under her eyes. “What’s the point?” she asked, her voice dark, heavy, and her hands hanging limp at her sides.
Kryos could see lines of smoke drifting from the ground and curling around her head. He grabbed Leona and threw her into the PASSENGER wagon next to Vaelin. “Tend to them!” he shouted as he waved away the vapors that tried to assault him and influence his mind. Thankfully, he seemed to be immune thanks to Enchantment Resistance. He knew he could guide them out since Leona had used the clues and their combined intuition and figured out how to discern the safe path.
Climbing up onto the Dragontrail wagon, he shouted, “Follow me! Don’t fall behind! If you do, I can’t come back for you!” He pushed forward, and made sure he moved slow enough for everyone to keep up, and paused at places to stand up, look back, and keep every wagon in line of sight.
There were many, many temptations from his treasure sense. He knew that his instinct to build his hoard up further was a temptation, and if this was some type of test that the Quest Conclave was putting their new Guild through, well, he was going to conquer it. A Guildmaster who abandoned a job—in this case, the caravan—or was willing to lose people in the pursuit of wealth, didn’t deserve to be a Guildmaster.
Thanks to Leona’s work earlier in figuring out how the weird, circuitous paths worked, Kryos was able to use his treasure sense to navigate through the maze.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached what had to be the end, as the road became un-cracked, was fully paved, and the buildings along either side of the road were closer together and seemed to be a bit more cohesive and less ruined.
[Secondary Objective Updated: Route Charter Preserved.]
Kryos let out a sigh of relief, and then stood up, looked back, and saw the blackness was a good distance away. He got down, and looked at Marn, who had stayed up front with the CHARTER wagon. “Lock that up, and rejoin the caravan.” Not bothering to stay and listen if the man followed instructions or not, Kryos ran down the line to check on his friend and new Mender.
He reached the wagon and saw the milky-eyed, weird-bread man had his hand on Vaelin’s head, and Leona’s head. He looked up at Kryos and gave a sympathetic smile. “You did not trade me when the road asked,” the crazed-looking man said. “I can still pay one debt.”
His hands glowed a brilliant, deep, blue light, and Vaelin shot upright, and touched all along her body. She was sucking in breaths, and then saw Kryos. “I . . . I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” Kryos replied, feeling incredible gratitude and not wanting her to feel a single shred of guilt. “You saved my life. You have my deepest thanks.”
“I’ve been looking,” Vaelin said, voice breaking, “for people who don’t see me as disposable.”
Kryos looked at her for a long moment. “Then survive this Rift with us. Afterward, if you still want to be part of Dragontrail, you’ll have a place.”
Leona rubbed at her temple, still pale from the road’s influence. “Trial period. Terms after survival.”
Vaelin gave a shaky nod. “Okay. That’s acceptable.”
Leona, also seemingly healed, sat up and looked at Kryos, then looked away. “Sorry,” she said. “I tried to get you free, but couldn’t.”
“You did your best,” Kryos replied. “Maybe we should invest in something you can chop with. A little more versatility.” He patted Vaelin’s back while she finished out her sob-session. “I should do that, also. Just having a mace is a liability.”
Vaelin was able to pull herself together the rest of the way, and moved back into the wagon, grabbed her weapon and shield, and then moved to get off the wagon.
Kryos asked, “Is the road safe to walk on?”
She looked down. “Yes. How were we healed?”
Kryos gestured to the strange bread-man, who was back to whispering about these, “bagels”, and said, “He gave us a one-time reprieve for not giving him up to the toll men. I assume that meant a one-time heal.”
Leona turned back to Kryos and got off the wagon. Her voice was not full of the same confidence as before, but she was not moody as she replied, “The purpose of the Secondary Objective from earlier, maybe. We didn’t give him up, so we got an emergency refresh. Considerate.”
Kryos led the way to the front of the caravan.
Leona said in a bit of an uplifted lilt. “Come on, let’s keep moving.” She looked up. It’s hard to tell, but I think night is falling.”
Kryos looked up, and true to Leona’s words, it seemed that the orange-smoky sun was dropping away. “Yeah, let’s move. We only lost one person so far in the caravan. For three chambers, I think that’s pretty good.”
Vaelin climbed onto the wagon with Leona, and Kryos walked alongside it.
A few minutes passed in silence, and as Kryos appreciated the now-flat, fully paved road, he saw signs of life begin to appear in the buildings on either side. Torn-up and patchwork clothes, rugs, and blankets that were hung out of windows to dry, illumination of lanterns or torches, and movement of shadows all indicated there was activity. It might have been a rift, but not being surrounded by dead lands made the area seem less hostile.
Still, Kryos kept his guard up. He had almost died earlier, and replayed the incident in his mind. His biggest mistake was trying to brute force the encounter, and massively misjudging his strength compared to his foe’s.
I can’t do that again.
Kryos saw a ring of wagons up ahead. They were circled up and blocking the road. A series of posts were planted in the ground and put onto stands on the road where they couldn’t be placed into the dirt. It was, quite obviously, the next chamber. Chains made of pale light hung from one post and connected to another. Bells hung from the posts, and their soft chimes were almost soothing and melodic, but discordant as their varying sizes made a clamor as a stale wind blew past.
There were handprints burned into the wood on the sides of the wagons that had been circled up, and across one of the wagons the words LET ONE CARRY SO MANY MAY RISE were scorched into place.
Kryos figured this was a challenge oriented toward Vaelin specifically, just how the second chamber seemed focused around Leona. He looked up at the Mender, and saw her sitting completely still, her ears flat against the top of her head, her tail low.
She whispered, “Do not touch the posts. This . . . this is a . . . this is meant for me.”
The way she said it told Kryos the road had found something worse than monsters to challenge her with.