Chapter 25: Chapter 25: The Ties that Bind Us

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Ties that Bind Us

---

 

I didn’t know why I felt compelled to follow them, but I did. I dialed up my stealth setting to the max and shadowed them as the older-looking elf led Liara into a darker part of the camp, one far from the light and mirth of the ongoing revelries.

No, I wasn’t jealous or anything silly like that. There was just something about her bright elf companion that didn’t sit well with me. My brief glimpse of his face was enough to cause my danger sense to tingle. Although I wasn’t sure why yet.

I followed them to the back of a large tent that had been adorned with the red banners and trappings of the Golden Bow, which I knew from chatting up Lieutenant Doyle earlier was the name of the guild leading the raid group responsible for clearing Lugh’s Lament’s lower floors of monsters.

From what Lieutenant Doyle had told me and Dess, the Golden Bow were camped out inside the dungeon’s sixth floor which meant Liara and her companion were free to have their heated discussion away from prying eyes and ears, and they did seem to be arguing. The raised voices were a clear indicator of that, and I was thankful for them as these heated words also allowed me to catch the tail end of the argument.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Liara insisted. “I’ve won the right to attend the Academy.”

“You are as stubborn as you’ve ever been, dóttir,” her companion sighed. “As I’ve said repeatedly, your Academy is no longer safe. You will not be safe if you remain there.”

“What do you mean, faḋir?” she asked.

This older bright elf placed his hand on Liara’s cheek, and to my surprise, she didn’t back away or kick him in the groin which she would have done if I’d been that grabby. I did notice her eyes narrow slightly though, suggesting that Liara wasn’t completely won over by her companion’s more mature good looks.

“I cannot explain. Simply trust that I know best. And I do want what’s best for you even though we rarely see eye to eye,” he answered. “I have already instructed Lunden to—”

At that moment, fireworks rose into the air and painted the sky in bright colors of red, green, and blue, illuminating the dark corners of the camp enough that I finally caught a better look at Liara’s companion—and I recognized the bright elf who now had his hand on her shoulder.

Quick as a wolf, I darted out of my hiding spot and charged the devil with teeth bared and only my flame-coated fists for weapons. Revealing myself without any sort of preparation wasn’t something I would have normally done, but a kind of berserker rage had taken hold of my senses so that recognition barely registered in my mind when Liara blocked my path to my enemy.

I flung my Fire Fist at her without meaning to, which is the only reason why she easily dodged my spell and caught my outstretched arm in her hands. Then, using my forward momentum against me, Liara flipped me over so that I fell flat on my back on the craggy ground. Only then did sense return to me and I realized that I’d been so swallowed by emotion that I attacked my first ally in the Academy without cause.

“What the Hel”—Liara mounted me to keep me pinned down—“are you doing attacking my father, Wisdom?!”

“Your”—My gaze drifted from Liara’s livid face to the bright elf standing off to the side while giving me a curious look—“father?”

Apart from his regal blue cloak, the tall bright elf wore the typical adventurer gear; bits of shiny metal attached to his expensive-looking leather jacket, pants, and boots which helped to accentuate his lithe elven form.

His expression carried none of the malice or cruelty I’d seen in him before, but it was the same uncaring oval face framed by wavy locks of chestnut hair that had been among the line of ljósálfar who’d been standing closest to the altar I’d been tied to.

“He’s… your father,” I repeated, confused.

She did call him ‘faḋir’ while he called her ‘dóttir’ which I should have recognized were Elvish for father and daughter. Holy freaking Hel, what a revolting revelation!

On closer inspection, they did look alike. They had the same pale gray eyes, the same long and pointy nose, the same alabaster white complexion, and even the way they frowned at me was the same. Father and daughter differed only in the length of his ears which were longer and sharper, the mark of a pure-blooded ljósálfar.

“This is the boy you spoke of in your last letter?” Liara’s father asked. “The one who’s been helping you improve your magic?”

That lyrical voice that had invoked the names of Hel, Ravena, and Knull along with his fellow cultists was one I also recognized. How could I not when their chant featured heavily in my most vivid nightmares? After all, invoking the Trinity of Death had been one of the last things I heard before their leader stabbed me in the chest with her sacrificial blade.

Yes, I am alluding to the fact that this bright elf—Liara’s father—was one of my original oppressors, which meant that my first friend in the Academy was the daughter of one of my worst enemies. Holy freaking Thor—did I just share some of my biggest secrets with someone who might become my archnemesis in the future?

“Yes,” Liara answered her father’s question. “Clearly, I overestimated him.”

The frigidness in her voice—one I hadn’t heard since our introduction nearly a week ago—caused my glare at her dad to melt away. Also, the disappointment which was clear on Liara’s face upset me more than I imagined it would too.

It must have been obvious by now, but apart from Divah, I didn’t care much about what others thought of me. However, Liara not hating me mattered to me now. Maybe it was because I taught of her as a friend, or maybe I just didn’t like that she was siding with an evil cultist over me. I wasn’t sure. Complicated feelings weren’t my cup of tea.

“This is simply a misunderstanding,” her father insisted. “Let him go, Liara.”

It was interesting how I clearly remembered him from a sea of bad guy faces but the bright elf didn’t recognize the boy he’d helped sacrifice to the gods of death five years ago. Especially since I inadvertently stole the very thing their cult killed a hundred people to attain.

Liara did as her father ordered, although the she-elf didn’t bother to help me up like she usually did. She kept her scowl on me even as I rose from the ground and apologized to her. Not to him. Never to him and his ilk.

“I am Lorias Löwenthal”—the bright elf offered me one of his long-fingered hands—“guild master of the Golden Bow and Alfheim representative to the Congress of Realms.”

Oh, great, he’s a Realmsverse politician, and a big one… Of course, he’d be a cultist too.

I shut my eyes and willed my face to remain impassive while thinking happy thoughts of giant robots and magical hammers, but it was the memory of Liara singing the ballad of Argon at my side that allowed me to find the strength I needed to shake this villain’s hand without wanting to bite off a finger or two.

“You have different last names,” I noticed.

Liara was suddenly uncomfortable, and I was sorry for that, but I needed to know more about my enemy.

“Lockwood is a human name belonging to Liara’s mother,” Lorias explained flatly.

The slight narrowing of his eyes suggested that he didn’t like that I mentioned this glaring difference between them either. Perhaps the bright elf was ashamed of his past dalliance with a human, even though it did look like he had some affection for his halfbreed daughter.

“Why did you attack us?” Liara demanded.

“I…” I wished to gods I had my glaive in my hands. “…I mistook your dad for someone else. Sorry, you ljósálfar look the same to a lowly human like me.”

Yep, pile on the apology with a little bit of self-bashing to keep them uncomfortable enough to want to accept the lie I’m selling. It was one of Divah’s first lessons and one of the few that dealt with social interaction.

“There was no harm done, although my daughter may have been a little rough with you,” he flashed me a smile I imagined he practiced every day in the mirror.

Liara blushed, while I attempted a fake laugh. It was a failure. I just couldn’t play nice, and that attempt at laughter turned into a fit of coughing instead.

“Are you alright?” Lorias asked.

I waved away his concern. “I, um, had a lot of chili mead tonight. Revelries, you know.”

“Indeed, I do,” he chuckled lightheartedly.

Honestly, I’ve never had such a hard time lying through my teeth. Playing nice when all I wanted to do was expose him for the mass murderer that he was to his daughter just wasn’t my style. However, now that I was thinking clearly, I realized I had to play it cool because now I had the one thing I didn’t know how to get. Information. The kind that might even lead me to that elusive cult leader Divah and I had been hunting in our spare time for the last five years. Perhaps even an answer to Extra Life!

To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself… I repeated another phrase from the great Sun Tzu and it helped calm me down as the quote reinforced in my mind the idea that an opportunity had just fallen on my lap.

You are reading story Adventure Academy at novel35.com

“Liara tells me you’ve been helping her with further expressing her magic which she’s been struggling with until recently, mister…” A frown appeared on his perfect face. “Forgive me, I didn’t catch your name?”

This was it. Moment of truth. If he recognized my name, I had better be prepared to fight to the death.

“Will, sir,” I replied evenly. “Will Wisdom.”

In hindsight, Wisdom hadn’t been my original last name so he probably wouldn’t have recognized it. Do cultists even know the names of the people they murdered?

“And you are also a novice of the tower, Will?” Lorias confirmed.

I nodded.

His smile could be considered pleasant like Liara’s, but it never quite reached his eyes. It was the kind of smile a politician might make.

“I am always happy to meet a new mage,” Lorias said.

“Father is an associate to the Magus,” Liara added.

She didn’t sound like a proud daughter though. It was more of a matter-of-fact tone.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “The Magus… Seriously?”

Dwalinn was a Sorcerer Extraordinaire which was the highest honor a mage could receive. There was a title above even that though, one that belonged only to a seidhr practitioner whose very existence defined the magic of the age. A great achievement like inventing a new school of magic or having the power to slay even an elder dragon with little assistance were the measures by which a Magus was named. There could only be one Magus per generation too.

“I am merely her humble servant,” Lorias inclined his head slightly.

His tone had been reverent, although I could have sworn that I just heard a hint of an emotion in his voice. Annoyance? Anger? Or was it fear?

An awkward silence passed between the three of us where Liara seemed to have cooled down somewhat from her anger with me while her father inspected my face with more scrutiny. I worried that he would eventually recognize the weepy boy I’d once been, so I was quick to distract him with more questions.

“How are you here, sir?” I asked.

“The Golden Bow is leading the dungeon suppression force currently conquering Lugh’s Lament,” he explained. “But I heard my daughter was also in basecamp so I thought I’d come up and say hello to her.”

He gazed at Liara with some affection, but not at the level a doting father would have for his child though.

“Why are you in Lugh’s Lament?” I pressed. “Surely, a guild as famous as the Golden Bow wouldn’t waste its time with a low-level dungeon?”

My question seemed to amuse him, and so he responded with a question of his own. “Do you know what lies at the bottom of a dungeon?”

Most people would have said dungeon core—the mass of emotions and corrupted magical energy that gave life to monsters—but they’d be wrong. According to Divah’s guide, the thing that lay at the heart of every dungeon was a crack in space-time that led to somewhere that no adventurer had ever explored before.

“A fissure,” I answered truthfully while knowing full well that it would surprise the Hel out of the smug-looking bright elf.

Intrigue flashed on Lorias’s face. “Assuming this theory was plausible, can you guess as to where this fissure might lead?”

The answer to that was a big fat no, but Divah had her ideas. Theories she’d shared with me in her guide.

“Maybe to Hel or Tenebrae?” I shrugged. “The lands of the dead seem like the right kind of place for corrupted magical energy to originate from, don’t you think?”

I know, I know. I couldn’t resist that light jab at the past by mentioning the hidden realms of Hel and Knull. Lorias didn’t seem to notice though. Sheesh, this bright elf was obtuse.

“But…” Now to poke the bear. “…there are those who believe that fissures might lead to the forgotten realm of Ván and the lonely island where Fenrisúlfr lies bound in Gleipnir’s chains.”

This was one of Divah’s most frightening theories. That the demon wolf whose bound existence promised the coming of Yggdrasil’s winter days was the main culprit responsible for the many fissures that leaked corrupted energy into mortal realms as the ancient beast’s revenge on the citizens of the realmsverse for leaving it to rot on Ván.

“They say that adventurers who’ve seen fissures first hand sometimes begin to hear the howling of wolves in their thoughts and are driven mad by it…” As he mentioned this, a strange glint appeared in Lorias’s eyes. It was the kind of glint a zealot or fanatic might possess. “Some even claim that it is the call of the demon wolf himself challenging those brave enough to answer his invitation to search for his domain and claim the incomparable treasure he protects in Ván.”

Divah had once mentioned this howling to me too, but she’d called it a dark lullaby that was the only thing that ever frightened her in the near-hundred years since she became an adventurer.

“If you ever find yourself in the depths of a dungeon and hear the wolf’s howl in your mind, promise me you won’t answer Fenrisúlfr’s call, kiddo,” Divah had once asked.

Of course, I said yes. Although whether or not I followed through on that pledge was debatable.

“Treasure?” First I’ve heard of that though. “What sort of incomparable treasure are we talking about here? A Norn Stone? Gungnir? The Omnipotent Throne?”

“You’re thinking too small, Mr. Wisdom,” Lorias chuckled. “There is but one prize we mortals should value over all other treasures.”

Ugh, could this guy be any less obvious?

“I don’t know… Having one of the Norn Stones in my possession feels kind of like a big deal,” I reasoned.

Sheesh, playing dumb’s getting harder and harder these days.

Lorias didn’t mention the ‘I’ word out loud though, which suggested he wasn’t as obtuse as I first imagined. Instead, he conceded my argument that a Norn Stone—one of a set of five—was indeed a mighty treasure because possessing all five could make one master of Fate itself.

Soon afterward, Lorias gave the excuse that he was needed back inside the dungeon. Although he hesitated to leave Liara without a final word.

“Must you stay?” he asked again.

An annoyed glance in my direction, and then Liara was nodding to her father. “I want to.”

An expression of regret filled his face. It lasted only a moment, but it also made me wonder why he’d just looked at his daughter like it might be the last time he would see her.

“I wish you good fortune then,” he said curtly.

Then, with a nod to me, he turned around without so much as a goodbye hug to Liara. As for the she-elf, she didn’t seem to mind, although her eyes were slightly more downcast than usual.

I watched him disappear into the darkness while confirming some facts I’d learned from our encounter. First, the cult was alive and well and they had people everywhere. Even in government. Second, they had a new plan, which was once again connected to attaining immortality, and whatever this plan was involved dungeon fissures and the demon wolf imprisoned beyond the veil.

Divah was going to love hearing about this.