Warmaster 8: Charnel Keep: A LitRPG Fantasy Adventure, page 38
“Aderyn,” Owen said. He’d been walking the small perimeter on the far side of the camp and now stood still.
She startled. “What’s wrong? Do you see something?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong. No monsters, anyway. I’m worried about you.”
His words made her feel like drawing in on herself to protect a still-healing wound. “Don’t. I’m fine.”
“Don’t blow me off, Aderyn. I know you better than anyone. I think you need to talk about what happened.”
She cringed again, remembering that small, dark space and the dust choking her lungs. “It was terrifying, but it’s over. I don’t want to dwell on it.”
“I meant, talk about Suveer.” Owen’s voice was low and invited confidences. “What did you talk about, before… you know.”
“He died, Owen. You can say it.” Immediately Aderyn regretted the harshness of her words. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t think I’m ready. He—” She fought back more stupid tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I can barely imagine how you must feel.” Owen crossed the campsite and took her hand in his. “It’s just—normally, I wouldn’t push. You always talk to me eventually. But this time, I feel like leaving you alone is a mistake. You’re going to dwell on what happened, and it’s going to fester inside you until every memory you have of Suveer is tainted and foul. That seems like the worst possible betrayal of him.”
His words touched her heart, easing her pain. They were the truest thing she’d ever heard. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. My instinct is to wait for the memories to hurt less, but I think I’ll be waiting a long time for that.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
“So, tell me. What did you talk about?”
Aderyn let herself remember those final, terrible moments underground. “About the system, and what happens when we die. And about what we would do when we were free. That’s what hurts, Owen. He finally had things he wanted to do with his life, and now that’s over. I think I’m grieving that more than anything.”
“You gave him that. It sounds like he died free of whatever Ruan did to manipulate him.”
“That’s true. Oh, Owen, what little I know of Suveer’s life makes me sad and angry, like how his parents were cruel to him in the name of correcting him, and Ruan constantly putting undeserved blame on him. And yet there was something inside him that survived that. Did he really try to save me from falling?”
“He did. And I’m trying not to feel inappropriately grateful that it was him and not me who leaped after you. He reacted so fast, Aderyn.” Owen’s hand briefly crushed hers. “When I thought you weren’t getting out of there, I don’t know what was worse—my fears, or hearing your terror. I thought, if she dies this way… anyway. If Suveer did something to help you with that terror, then I can’t be grateful enough.”
“He did. He wasn’t at all afraid, did you know? Not of being buried and not of dying. And that made it easier for me.” Aderyn let out a long, deep breath. “If I dwell on the sheer unfairness of it all, bitterness and anger breed inside me, and it’s like I’m trapped in the crevasse again. But that means dying a different way. And if Suveer tried to save me, I owe it to his memory to not destroy my life through anger.”
“You’re still the wisest person I know.”
“I don’t feel wise. More like in this case, Suveer’s death, and his life, gave me perspective. And I want to celebrate that.”
Owen drew her close and kissed her briefly. “You sound much calmer. Not as if there’s an eruption of pain brewing beneath the surface.”
“I feel calmer. Thank you for pushing.” She withdrew from Owen and turned her gaze on the distant horizon. Still, nothing moved. “I hope we make it through the night. I still feel hollow inside, not from grief but from everything we’ve done in the last forty-eight hours.”
“I agree. I’m practically counting the seconds until sunrise.” Owen returned to pacing the perimeter. “But I feel like it’s going to be all right. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.”
“I’ll take it,” Aderyn said.
She understood what Owen meant. The sky was clear for once, not hazy, and the nearly-full moon sailed high overhead, brightening the trees and the tents and making the gritty, stony plains look like snowfields. In the north, it was winter, and the snowfields were real. Aderyn let herself daydream for a moment about where the [Fated One’s Destiny] quest might lead them next. She would welcome a northern winter after the unrelenting sun and heat and humidity.
The end of her watch came with no attacks or interruptions, and she crawled into her bedroll next to Owen and let him put his arms around her. [Read Body Language] told her how relieved he was to have her safe in a way he would never say out loud, for fear she would think he thought his pain mattered more than her suffering. She’d never loved him more.
The next thing she knew, the tent walls glowed with the first light of the sun, and Livia shouted, “Everybody up! It’s time we left this thundering wasteland behind. Breakfast in Ikharatia!”
Aderyn scrambled out of her tent and hurried to hug Livia, who returned her embrace tightly. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t enough,” Livia responded. “I don’t—I didn’t like Suveer much, but I tried, Aderyn, I swear I tried to save him. If I’d held back when fighting Terrorquake—”
“Don’t,” Aderyn said. “If you’d held back, maybe something worse would have happened. We can’t play that game. And Suveer didn’t resent it, I know.”
“It still hurts.” Livia wiped her eyes. “But it’s time we moved on. I’m sending you back first. Don’t argue. Call it inappropriate guilt if you want, but I’m superstitious that you evading death from your worst nightmare means something terrible lurks in this blasted wilderness to take you out a different way.”
Aderyn laughed. “I’m not going to argue. Let’s do this.”
She stepped into the rough wooden oval of world door with more than usual eagerness. Livia’s skill had grown, because the walls weren’t as indistinct and the floor barely wobbled, but it still felt like forever before she stepped through the exit and the humidity of Ikharatia slapped her in the face, miserable even at this early hour.
Livia deposited her outside the city gate, where a couple of guards stared at her in disbelief. She had to look strange, disheveled and filthy with her hair in disarray, and a northerner at that. Beside her, the oval of world door formed again, and Isold’s figure appeared. Aderyn waited impatiently for two seconds before remembering her
It didn’t take long for Chandar’s face to appear in the mirrored oval of the
“I’m in Ikharatia,” Aderyn replied. “Have you had word from Varoun?”
“He’s here—wait a moment.” The view swayed wildly, and then it was Varoun looking out at her. Aderyn’s relief buoyed her up more than she’d expected at seeing the old Moonlighter well and alive.
“Aderyn. You survived. I’m so relieved,” Varoun said. “We all made it safely back to the war camp outside Shantos. I wanted to follow your progress, but I didn’t think I should contact you for fear of alerting enemies to your presence.”
“Thank you, sir, that was wise.” A million questions bubbled up inside her, but the one that won out was, “Is the orc army still a threat?”
“We have pushed them back from Shantos and Tielana, but they continue to attack.” Varoun scowled. “Did you fulfil your Fated One quest?”
She heard the unspoken criticism in his words—you must have failed, or the orcs would be gone—but before she could respond, Isold said from over her shoulder, “The orc commander general and all her important leaders are dead, and Charnel Keep is no more. With so much of their leadership gone, I imagine word of all that will be slow in reaching the armies.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have implied a criticism,” Varoun immediately said. “I am grateful beyond words that you and your friends succeeded. Was anyone lost?”
Aderyn swallowed. “Ruan and Suveer are dead, but that’s a long story I don’t think we have time for now. The rest of us made it out alive, and we rescued a handful of citizens of Shantos.”
“One of whom probably doesn’t deserve it,” Weston rumbled.
Aderyn looked around. Owen was caught frozen in the middle of world door, which would have relieved her mind if she didn’t have so many terrible imaginings about what crisis might affect Livia when she was alone in the Blighted Range. “Do you want us to return to the front, sir?”
“I do. I need someone to direct the defense of Tielana. I realize it’s asking a lot of you, if you’ve only just returned from the high-risk zone, but this war isn’t over.”
The thought of going back into battle after the terrors of the last few days sickened Aderyn, but she said, “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. I’ll join you in the capital shortly so I can send you to Tielana,” Varoun said. He turned to speak to someone not in range of the
Someone put a hand on her shoulder. “Aderyn, what did Varoun say?” Owen asked.
“He wants me at the front near Tielana.” Aderyn tried not to cringe saying those words, but Owen wasn’t fooled.
“Aderyn, you’ve been traumatized,” he said bluntly. “You aren’t in any condition to lead troops.”
“Yes, but—”
“Aderyn,” Varoun said, “the scouts at Tielana report movement in the orc army positioned there.”
Aderyn’s heart sank. “If they’re attacking, I need to go there as soon as possible.”
“They’re not attacking,” Varoun said.
A system message flashed its silver letters in front of Aderyn’s face.
Congratulations! You have achieved all the victory conditions of [Fated One’s Destiny: Crush the Horde].
ACHIEVED Death of Glasha, orc commander general
ACHIEVED Death of Ornok, second in command
ACHIEVED Death of Zothemza, orc elementalist
ACHIEVED Death of Drorg, orc cavalry commander
ACHIEVED Death of Ahda, orc chanter
ACHIEVED Destruction of Charnel Keep
ACHIEVED Orc army retreats
You have earned [75,000 XP]
“It’s over,” Aderyn said. “The war is over.”
Chapter Forty-One
The throne room, glowing gold from the gilding decorating the walls and ceiling, felt smaller than before, which might have been the many people thronging it, but might also be that it no longer intimidated Aderyn. The cool breeze from above, not generated by anything Aderyn could see, kept the close-packed space from being unbearably hot. She wandered through the crowd, nodding politely at those who acknowledged her but not pausing to talk to anyone. By now, three days after the orc army’s retreat, word had gotten around about what she and her friends had done, but to her surprise the story hadn’t led to people pestering her for details. Southlander politeness appealed to her.
She saw Owen approaching through the crowd and waited for him to join her. “I’ll be sad to leave the bathroom facilities behind,” he murmured. “Maybe I need to talk to Marrius, someday when this is all over, and see if a Spellcrafter can replicate what I know from, um, where I come from.”
“That was cautious of you for once!”
“Yeah, well, I can be taught, Aderyn.” He clasped her hand and raised it to his lips.
Trumpets sounded, and Aderyn turned to watch the queen’s attendants enter the throne room. This time, they carried nothing but unlit candles in brass holders. The crowd divided in half, pushing Aderyn and Owen back. Disappointed at not having a better view, Aderyn shifted to find a place to look past the heads and shoulders of those in front of her.
A woman standing beside her noticed. With a smile, she put her hand on the small of Aderyn’s back and pushed her gently forward. The tall man ahead of Aderyn half-turned, registered who she was, and made a path for her to stand at the front of the crowd. Aderyn decided not to protest. She’d had an important role in the war, and maybe that meant she was entitled to be there at the end.
She was in time to see the four attendants range themselves along the foot of the dais, to either side of the gilded white thrones. Behind them, two armed guards dressed in gray and gold surcoats flanked the thrones. As still as they were, they looked more like statues than living people.
A rustle of movement as everyone around Aderyn bowed heralded the entrance of the king and queen. Aderyn bowed as well. She didn’t owe Devendra allegiance, but she respected the queen, and bowing felt appropriate. Owen must have felt the same, because he bowed, too.
Devendra glided past, as expressionless as the guards, and didn’t meet Aderyn’s eye. That felt strange, and Aderyn didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she and Devendra were friends, and obviously the queen didn’t owe Aderyn anything. Well. That wasn’t true; she owed Aderyn gratitude for her service, and for saving her life and protecting Colan, but those weren’t anything Aderyn was going to demand respect for. But this felt as if Devendra was deliberately avoiding making contact, and that was unusual enough to rouse Aderyn’s curiosity.
Colan walked beside his mother, not holding her hand this time. He did meet Aderyn’s eyes, staring in astonishment as he had the first time they’d met. Aderyn didn’t wave or smile. She didn’t want to make the boy uncomfortable. Behind the royal pair, a guard strode, unarmed and bearing only a golden cushion on which rested a crown. It was clearly sized for an adult, so it didn’t surprise Aderyn that Colan wasn’t wearing it. The slim golden band, unadorned by precious stones, was topped by a series of filigree points and looked exactly as Aderyn had always imagined a crown should look.
Devendra helped Colan onto his throne and gracefully took a seat beside him. The guard with the crown stood between the thrones, looking as impassive as the others. Aderyn turned her attention to the doors in time to see them swing shut. No one spoke, and the room was silent except for the barest rustling of fabric.
The boom, boom, boom of someone knocking on the door startled Aderyn, it filled the silence so completely. Still, none of the courtiers reacted. Aderyn expected Devendra to tell someone to open the doors, but it was Colan who responded. In his high child’s voice, he said, “Who knocks at the door?”
“One who has served this kingdom well.” The voice was muffled, but Aderyn recognized it as Varoun’s.
“What does my servant request?” Colan said. He spoke stiffly in the way of someone reciting a memorized text.
“To lay down my burden,” Varoun replied.
“Open the door and bid my servant enter,” Colan said.
The door swung open, and Varoun, dressed in his armor and with his sword hanging by his side, walked at a measured pace down the aisle formed by the watching courtiers. He came to a halt in front of the thrones and bowed deeply, first to Colan and then to Devendra.
Colan glanced at his mother, who widened her eyes and made a little gesture with one hand. The boy swallowed and said, “General Varoun, your report.”
“I accepted command of the army of the Southlands with the express purpose of defeating the orcs that threatened to destroy us,” Varoun said in his clear, decisive voice. “That threat has been eliminated. With your majesty’s permission, I return command of the army to you and request relief from my duties.” He drew the
Colan took the wand in both hands and looked briefly uncertain. Devendra motioned to him to give the magic item to her. Colan handed it over quickly and wiped his palms on his trousers. Aderyn controlled a smile. That was a nervous gesture they had in common.
“I relieve you of your command, General Varoun,” Colan said. “Please kneel.”
A rush of noise suddenly filled the room, men and women exclaiming or asking their neighbors what Colan had said. Puzzled, Aderyn watched Varoun, who knelt stiffly but not as if Colan’s request was a surprise, as it seemed to be to everyone else.
Colan swallowed again and closed his eyes briefly. His lips moved in silent speech for a couple of seconds. Then he climbed off the throne and approached Varoun. “Varoun, you have spent your life in the service of this kingdom. Now I require a greater service. As of this moment, I abdicate my claim to the throne and proclaim you, Varoun, king of the Southlander kingdom.”
The room erupted in shouting and exclamations. Aderyn, stunned, remained silent. She looked at Owen, who was as astonished as she, then at Varoun, whose back was to her. Despite not being able to see his expression, Aderyn was certain he’d known what was coming.
Devendra rose from her throne and walked forward to join Colan, who was biting his lip as if he’d come to the end of what he’d memorized. “Be silent,” she said, pitching her voice to be heard over the noise. “Your king demands your respect.” She put a hand on Colan’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
Colan startled, then turned and nearly ran into the guard holding the crown as the man stepped forward. With his small hands, he gripped the crown tightly. Moving slowly as if he was afraid of dropping it, he walked down the steps of the dais and put the crown on Varoun’s head.
The shouting and demands for explanations faded and died. Varoun continued to kneel for a few moments, his head bowed as if the crown weighed more than it did. Then he got to his feet and extended a hand to Colan, who clasped it tightly. “Thank you,” he said. “I know that was hard. Thank you for your faith in me.”
He lifted his head and turned to face the room. “I swear to execute the duties of a king to my utmost abilities,” he said, his voice ringing out as Devendra’s had. “I will serve this kingdom as I have done before. This was not something I sought, but the needs of the kingdom—” He glanced briefly at Colan, who was looking at the floor— “must take precedence. Do you bear witness?”
