Chapter 68: Chapter 68 The Tales of Endings

There was a moment of silence after Sudraiel’s words, then the creak of leather and scrape of boots on stone as the experienced Adventurers formed a close perimeter around the blue-glowing Seal. Several teams took to the sky, led by the Guardians of Gemore as Dalo cast a [Group Flight].

The trainees remained in a large clump next to the Seal, segregated by team. They looked around to ensure that they weren’t supposed to be doing anything, and then just talked in quiet voices. Simla and his team were nearby, and Nathan noticed Simla shooting glances at him. Just beyond them was Nornan and the Dusteaters, laughing at a quiet joke. The trainees stood and muttered for a few minutes before another figure came into view atop the plinth, lit from below by the iridescent light cast by the Seal.

It was Faline. Her hair blew in the darkness and the light reflecting from the colored streaks making it look like a stream of viridian sparks. Green eyes flashed with light and her voice cut through the wind more cleanly than Sudraiel's yell, reaching all of the Adventurers spread around the mountaintop. Her speech was formal, with a ritualistic cadence.

“And now we begin the oldest of the Guild’s Traditions! The story of the slain and the spinning of their stories! Listen and learn, for the lessons of this lecture are as much a part of our guild as the ground of Gemore!

“This is a time when we speak of Endings. I begin with the tale of a man known only by deed and legacy! A man long dead, whose shadow looms long upon us all. His name was Istin, and at first he had no other, for Istin was born a slave of Giantsrest! He was no soldier, but a worker who cleaned trash and scrubbed floors. When the slaves rose to cast Giantsrest down, Istin was one of them.

“That day was darker than the sky of today, but Istin stood with his fellows. He fought mages that blasted them with fire and death. He killed one with a broom, and was badly wounded by another. His class Developed from that fight, and he was the first of my kind. The kind of adventurer who creeps in the darkness and strikes from the shadows. An Assassin of Gemore, who strikes those who think themselves invulnerable in their fortresses. And he chose his name that day, as Bho.”

Nathan noticed other Trainees with the dark skin and broad frame of the Bhos stand straighter as Faline named their ancestor.

Faline proceeded to tell of Istin Bho’s adventurers, how he had delved into the dungeons of old Gemore and killed Giantsrest mages and their households from the darkness of night. Many of his friends died, but he and a few others achieved high level. They had families, gathered magical items and protected Gemore from the early assaults of Giantsrest. Faline told about how he had had children, and started the Bho clan to follow in his footsteps as an Adventurer of Gemore.

“There were many whose stories are the same, and many are descended from them. Gemore owes its existence to the first generation of Adventurers. But Istin’s story is always told first today, on the Solstice.

“And that is because he was the first to kill an Archmage. The Archmage Gralus raised his faction and marched the streets of Giantsrest with scores of mages, ranks of golems and legions of slave soldiers. His parade was a showcase of pageantry and power, a declaration of his designs upon Gemore.

“Istin Bho killed him before he left the city of Giantsrest. He leapt from a rooftop and used an Old Gemore blast disk to shatter the shield of Gralus’ platform before butchering him beyond any hope of healing. He cast the would-be conqueror's head toward the other archmages and declared ‘thus to those who threaten Gemore’. To this day, any Archmage who considers attacking our city must consider Istin’s Lesson.”

Faline raised her arms to the sky, looking upwards towards the lights. Her voice grew more strident, a prophet leading a prayer. “And on this day, the day of the Solstice, a day of remembrance for those lost, remember Istin’s lesson. For though Istin killed Gralus, and the invasion was stopped, Istin was slain by the assembled mages of Giantsrest in turn.

“The first duty of an Adventurer of Gemore is to protect its people. The final duty is to be willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal. For we must teach Istin’s Lesson again and again to greedy Giantsrest. The cost of that lesson is in the lives of the Adventurers of Gemore. We can make them fear the cost of their invasion, but only by being willing to stake our own lives on that cost.”

She pointed towards the assembled Trainees, and her hand was suddenly filled with a long-bladed dagger which seemed to cut the light of the Seal.

“And that is Istin’s Lesson. To safeguard our home, we must be more committed to protecting Gemore than Giantsrest is to conquering us.” With that pronouncement Faline lowered her hand. Her glowing green eyes stared into the crowd of trainees, and Nathan could swear that she was looking straight at him.

“The Assassins of Gemore teach this lesson. If you wish to hunt mages unseen, to teach them the meaning of Fear, speak of it. We will find you, and teach you to kill all who reside in Giantsrest.” Her mouth curved in a smile and one eye flashed pink before she vanished. Nathan focused his mind, trying to see through what he was pretty sure was a very advanced stealth Talent or collection of powerful skills.

Awfully bloodthirsty… but she’s gotta be some kind of [Assassin] variant.

With the darkness and the shifting light cast by the Seal, Nathan caught not a trace of the elusive woman.

The trainees broke out in whispers. Aarl leaned into the center of the small circle the Heirs were making. “She’s scary. I wouldn’t want to go into the heart of Giantsrest for any reason.”

Khachi spoke a little louder in his response, making heads turn in their direction. “There is reason for all to listen when she speaks.”

Kadid was the next to climb to the top of the plinth and be illuminated by the Seal. “Now it’s time to speak of those we knew. I’ll start with my nephew Tygal Bho, who died this past summer to a Northern Wyvern.” He proceeded to tell Tygal’s story - who he was, how he’d lived and how he’d died.

Oh. This is a time for eulogies.

Adventurer after Adventurer mounted the plinth, telling the tales of Adventurers past. Not all of these people had died in the past year, with some particularly glorious stories seeming passed down from generation to generation. Many of the stories were long, but the Trainees stood rapt, hearing the stories of their predecessors. The stories of those who had come before them, as Adventurers of Gemore.

Not all of them had died in battle, and some of the most celebrated seemed to be those who had lived through all of their years and raised a new generation of Adventurers. Others had died without witnesses, and there was a lot of ‘and then they went into the dungeon and never came out’.

One recent example of that was the Gray Moon Order. They had gone into the Monastery of Quaz on the most recent Delve day, the one that the Grave Tangle had come out of. Nathan learned that they had been a group of scholars and mages who focused on necromancy and the safe disarming of Quazian ruins. Their story was told by an old crowfolk woman named Gale Shullet who headed the Tower of Trickery, where illusion mages like Wiam were trained. Gale didn't judge the Grey Moon Order. She just seemed sad that experienced Adventurers had died to something that probably wasn’t their fault.

There was another lesson there, that was communicated in some of the stories being told. Sometimes you failed and died, and it wasn’t your fault. Sometimes there was an undetectable sensor in a random corridor that set off a bomb or unleashed a magical plague or awoke an ancient army.

Some of the stories were funny, some were sad. All were proud of the legacy of the Adventurers of Gemore. Nathan felt the weight of tradition start to press down upon him. These stories were communicating to him what being an Adventurer of Gemore meant. It meant glory in battle, standing against impossible odds, and being willing to die to protect the city. Most of the Adventurers around Nathan were descended from those whose stories they were hearing, and Nathan felt like an intruder in this space.

He hadn’t been raised here - he had come to Gemore only a few months ago, and now he was part of their most serious ceremony. It was like being invited to the most holy religious ceremony in a religion you hadn’t been raised in. Nathan found himself feeling awe at this beautiful tradition, the way it encouraged the new Adventurers to feel part of something larger than themselves. Indeed, many of the faces around him were awestruck and wet with tears.

The stories continued and the light of the Seal grew more focused, more intense. Instead of a directed glow it was projecting a beam of light up into the air. Enough was diffusing out to light up the top of the mountain clearly, but the beam itself seemed to thicken and intensify until it was very visible reflecting from the sparse clouds overhead.

I bet that would be actually blinding to look into. We’re only seeing a tiny spillover of light from here. You don’t see a laser if you’re standing next to it, only the reflection from what it’s pointed at.

As the night continued the clouds dispersed, and the other points of light in the sky also brightened. The aurora that Nathan had thought he was imagining earlier proved to be very real, connecting the lights in the sky with a wavering iridescence that was beautiful to behold.

The day wore on, and the stories continued. Nathan learned of other teams who had died, some recently, some famously, some both. Looking at the subtext of the stories being told, the conflict in the Adventurer’s guild was clear. Nathan could tell who supported Sudraiel’s agenda and who didn’t by the message of their stories, by how they described the deeds of past Adventurers. The event was too solemn and serious for the petty politics to emerge into the open, but the subtext of the progressive and traditional factions of Adventurers was clear.

Nathan was listening to a slightly rambling story about a team called the Sky Spears, who seemed to have died five years ago fighting some kind of rock elemental. Nathan found himself watching the sky. The dots of light overhead had only increased in brightness, and the shifting streamers of light coming off them looked like a distant spiderweb, blowing in a cosmic wind. Then Nathan saw another aurora, much closer to hand. It was branching off of the beam emerging from the Seal. The clouds had cleared, and he saw a wavering banner of light stretching off to the north.

Wait. Are all of those points Seals? Just ones on the world above my head? That’s... big.

Nathan squinted upwards, trying to use the light to make out the continents above. But he was interrupted by a thump from the dais.

Sudraiel was standing there, lit brightly by the Seal. Its glow was ramping up faster and faster, casting shadows away from everybody nearby.

Sudraiel brought the butt of her spear down on the dais again with another thump, then raised her voice in a yell. “We are blessed by a peaceful Solstice, and so it is time for the Tale of Endings! A story older than Gemore, older than Giantsrest, told across Davrar!”

The faint burble of conversation died completely, leaving only the breeze that soon calmed itself. It felt like the whole world was waiting for Sudraiel to continue.

She spoke slowly, clearly, as if reciting an oral epic. It had a kind of rhythmic meter to it, though it wouldn’t carry over to English.

“The Solstice, and the Seal, our oldest tradition.

But older yet is the tale remembered past the Ending of the World.

“The Tale of Endings is not something written. It is for times when writing is lost,

times when civilization dies, when there is no priority but survival.

You are reading story Ends of Magic: Antimage LitRPG at novel35.com

Remember the Endings when cities die and the land breaks.

If you lose all else, if nothing else will survive, preserve yourselves, and preserve the Tale of Endings!

“This is the story of how the world Ends.

We record not what was lost, but how it was lost.

The Prophecy will allow survival of the Endings.”

There was a moment of absolute silence, and Sudraiel leaned on her spear, gathering herself before launching stridently into the next part of the Tale of Endings.

“The world has ended before, and will end again! The order of the Endings is the only part of the story that truly matters.

“Magic

Gods

Monsters

Undeath

Wrath

Storm

Deicide

Elements

History

Spite

Silence.”

Sudraiel paused and continued in a more normal voice. “Those who founded Giantsrest survived the Ending of Elements, and next is the Ending of History. We clear the Dungeons, that History’s wrath may pass us by. Now, again, and remember.” Her tone grew formal once more as she recited the list a second time.

This time, the crowd chanted the order of Endings along with her. Nathan joined in, remembering the order from the first recital. As he spoke, Nathan closed his eyes and came up with a mnemonic story for the Endings, to ensure he would never forget them.

“Magic

Gods

Monsters

Undeath

Wrath

Storm

Deicide

Elements

History

Spite

Silence”

There was a moment of silence, then Sudraiel continued.

“Three pieces of advice follow, three for the essentials of food, water and shelter.

First, make common cause, for the Endings will kill all.

Second, The Ending will last three generations, plan for repeated catastrophe.

Third, Survival above all else!”

Sudraiel slammed her spear down on the plinth for the third and final time, gazing at the beam of light cast upwards by the Seal as if waiting. The pillar of brightness seemed to pulse in recognition before the light blazed brighter than ever before. There was a faint cry as the other trainees shied back and covered their eyes.

So That’s the Tale of Endings. I swear that I’ll keep that story alive, however long I may live. This memory, that mnemonic, is stored in the freezer in my Mind Palace, where it will never change or degrade so long as I exist.

---