Book 3: Chapter 11: Finish Line

A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Just as water holds greater value than gold for a thirsty man, so too does silence in a world filled with incessant noise. Cultivate your silence, contemplate deep thoughts, and you will be able to hear more. To observe without distraction.

- The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC.

Continuing onwards at a rapid clip, uncaring of stealth, or the better part of caution, I made my way, ever upwards, with the clank and jangle of metal echoing my footsteps. No adversary presented itself to me, giving me time to review recent events. The last encounter with the giant scorpion worried me. Perhaps more than it should have. Not that it was a close call, or anything of that matter, rather, it was my lack of self-control.

It was not ingrained reflex, born from conflict, or intense training that had moved my arm to block the giant scorpion's stinger, rather it had been something else. My arm had moved of its own volition, admittedly to defend me, angling my shield perfectly, blocking the scorpion's attack completely. However, it was still most worrying nonetheless. Was I willing to cede a little control in order to have an automatic means of defense? Where would it end? Was I slowly being taken over?

The voices soothed me. Promising that all was well. I always had ultimate control, whether it was with my magic or my fate. It was important to think positively, especially in dire circumstances. Perhaps I should just think of this as an upgrade of sorts. The Mimic, after all, had no will of its own, so the voices now told me, whispering their assurances. However, it still functioned at a very basic level with its instincts for self-preservation very much intact. It was still programmed on an instinctual level to protect itself, and by extension, me.

Wanting to confirm the promise of the voices, I moved my shield arm, making sure that I had complete control. Summoning and dismissing my shield multiple times, I reaffirmed that it was indeed I who was ultimately in control. Like always, it was a disturbing sight, to see tendrils of matter grow out of my arm before forming a construction of thick wood and hard metal. Was it my imagination, or did the shield look a little more hefty, a little more solid in its constructions?

I tried to initiate mental communication with the Mimic, the alien creature that had bonded with me. I expected an attack of some sort, but was instead met only with silence. No words or alien impressions assaulted my senses, no communication. Though the power and convenience it brought were welcome, it was a relief to not have another voice to contend with in the halls of my mind. So relieved was I that my feet stopped their onward progression, and I had to shake myself out of the fugue that had settled onto me.

The thing was dead, truly dead, in the way that counted most, at least. I had confirmed what the voices had told me, the thing was basically in a vegetative state. Therefore, it was mine to control, and not the other way round. Who knows what it planned for me, had we joined together in mental communion? Which led me to consider, if we had indeed bonded, would I have remained essentially me? Was that not, in a way, a form of death? With so many things pulling me this way and that, I counted this as a victory. An act of defiance against Iasis herself, and, by proxy, the gods of this world.

Resuming my onward march, I was determined to not be sidetracked and defeated by negative thoughts and to focus on my singular goal of getting out of here. Philosophizing on the nature of self and so forth could wait until after I had returned to surface lands, the Bright, as the recently departed Zala had quaintly put it.

More of the lichen had grown here, and the purples in the walls were being overrun with the greens of it. The type of creature I began to encounter started to change. Instead of them all being universally blind, some of them had large disc-like eyes that glowed in the dark. For some reason, I decided to take this as a positive sign that I was getting closer to my goal, the surface.

The wind, the guide that had picked up Zala’s torch, was growing stronger too, another positive sign. In the overall ledger of my current circumstance, accounts were slowly being balanced toward the black.

Stolen novel; please report.

Feeling that I had made decent progress, I sat down on the hard stone floor, placing my helm to my side. Although I felt my body was far from tired, my mind was reaching its limit. I searched for a state as free from conscious thought as possible, but failed abysmally. I had made a promise to myself to not be sidetracked by negative thoughts, but the reality was that my mind was too cluttered by a myriad of concerns and worries to make good decisions. Taking a quick break, I decided that slowly unpacking them now would be the better option, while I could. It turned out that digesting events and putting things into order helped me to relax.

I idly traced an armored hand through some of the green glowing lichen, Beron’s Dream, as this world deigned to name it. The tingling sensation returned, vaguely pleasant in that it helped to break up the general monotony and served to distract my mind. How easy it would be to fall asleep here, I wondered. Shaking my head, I quickly dismissed that disastrous thought!

Was that thought even my own? Was even the lichen working against me? A sudden spike of paranoia flared hot as I scrambled to my feet. I stilled myself, slowly forcing my breathing to resume its natural pace as my heart pumped wildly in my chest.

Beron’s Dream indeed! I debated whether I should dispose of my collected samples, then decided it would make no difference, surrounded as I was by the ominous lichen. They might make for a valuable alchemical ingredient on the surface, as I doubted anyone, apart from the local Troglodytes I had encountered, ventured into this deep realm. At the very least, I decided to refrain from physical contact with the lichen.

Time to move on.

Adjusting my bevor, which had begun to loosen, I rolled my shoulders and started up once again. One foot in front of another, I walked at a steady pace that ate up the distance until I finally came to fork. From the left, I could feel the flowing air caress my cheek and from the right I swore I heard the echo of… cats fighting? A ridiculous thought. Still, the goddess had suggested that I should choose the left path. Despite my suspicions of Iasis’ words, it was still the clear and obvious choice.

Choosing the left, I continued my slow ascent from this surreal and alien realm, my way lit now by more than just the light of my Holy Aura. A part of me almost missed Zala’s inane chatter, and accompanying this thought came a small twinge of guilt. No doubt she would have warned me of the dangers of Beron’s Dream, not that I would have chosen a different path.

Almost imperceptibly, as step followed step, the strange purple and green glows began to disappear as the path inclined ever upwards. Air was moving faster now, more than just the ghost of a breeze, cool against my face as it blew past me. Without the mineral and lichen glow, the ambience outside my circle of light was reduced to a dark gray.

Dull colored crystal growths began to appear as sharp thin squarish blocks with odd spikes, lining the walls. Milky white, they sullenly refracted my emitted light. A quick Identify later revealed them to be simple salt crystals, but the how and why of their formation here was a mystery to me. I smashed one out of the wall with a stiff kick, to keep as a souvenir and seasoning for later.

I resumed my march uphill through this dark pathway. Was it me, or was it that the air in this place, where the salt crystals bloomed, had begun to lighten, making the atmosphere less oppressive?

The path grew wider, finally giving me enough room to swing the proverbial cat. There was a whistle now to the wind, bringing with it, I hoped, the promise of potential sunlight and sky. Soon, stone gave way to familiar white sand and I knew that I had almost escaped my dark hell.

There, ahead of me, was a patch of lightened gray that I rushed to with a new joy. The gray had been refracted light from the minerals embedded in the rocky walls, however, when I looked to my left I was finally gifted with the first hints that the light was not my own. A singular speck, a glorious speck, of blessed natural light shone gloriously like a faraway star.

I continued on, at a fast jog, as the speck grew ever larger. Creatures moved away from me, small things that looked like desert rats with large elephantine ears. They chirped in annoyance at having to give way to me, an interloper in their kingdom.

Natural light, a soft silver, contested with my Aura in providing illumination. With the singular goal of escape, I kept on walking, until there was no more ceiling, just the vast expanse of starlit heavens. No longer was I treading the ancient darkness within the bowels of the earth, but the pleasant dark of the old night.

I knelt in the cool sands of the Whispering Wastes, feeling a certain sense of dry relief. Then the reality of it all hit me. I had, at last, emerged.