Fortress Al-Mir

“Evocation is considered a lost art of magic. To the best of my not-inconsiderable knowledge of magic, no attempt at evocation has succeeded since the Calamity. There are highly detailed records, so we know it was an actual branch of viable magic at one point in time. To make matters more complicated, evocation, along with all planar magic, has been deemed High Anathema by the Abbey of the Light. Anyone caught researching or otherwise engaging with planar magic is immediately charged and, without trial, sentenced to summary execution.

“At the academy, we were taught enough to recognize when planar magic was involved so that we could abort whatever we were doing and seek absolution with the church before it got to the execution point. Nothing else.”

Arkk grimaced at Zullie’s explanation. “And you want to research it now? Even knowing that consequence?”

“Already have,” Zullie said with a wave of her hand. “I told you before that I’ve got experience dodging inquisitors. They weren’t hounding me because they were interested in my ability to stop incoming projectiles. There have been accusations against me in the past. Nothing anyone could prove,” she added with a grin.

“Why is it banned?” Arkk asked. He doubted he would change his mind about proceeding with their evocation magic to reopen the portal. The inquisitors thought Vezta was an enemy. Their opinion was clearly flawed. Still, it would be good to know.

Zullie, one arm across her chest with her hand holding the elbow of her opposite arm as she gesticulated, launched into a lecture. It was starting to become a familiar sight. After their disastrous departure from Darkwood Burg, it had taken a little under a week to return to Fortress Al-Mir. Arkk had been too weak for most of that to protest their abandonment of the burg. When he had recovered enough, they were practically back. Scrying on the burg showed no additional attacks since their departure, so he hadn’t felt up to insisting they return.

Arkk had enlisted Zullie in magic tutoring on the way back, mostly to distract himself from what he thought was a fairly unpleasant departure. Not only was proper magic something he always wanted to learn but it also helped Vezta with her objective of carrying out her former master’s final command. The last few days had been… a lot.

Still, Arkk felt he had the basics down. He knew much more about rituals and how to construct them. Learning what all the little symbols and runes did in a ritual circle had clued him into what he was doing wrong that caused explosions when he tried to work most magic. Namely, an utter lack of direction toward how magic was supposed to flow through a ritual spell. In a great number of rituals, the undirected collision of magic caused the explosion.

He wasn’t quite so confident about jumping into forbidden anathema magics. That didn’t stop Zullie from her explanations.

“Evocation is a branch of planar magic, dealing with other planes of existence. It is a close relative to summoning magics—which also used to be a widespread branch of magic but has since degraded into demon summoning and little else. It is banned for that reason. Very little good can come from pulling bits of other realities into our own.” Zullie shot a curious look to Vezta, who simply chose to lean up against the wall for the duration of every lecture, before adding, “Or so says the church.”

“Fair enough. But we aren’t summoning demons.” It wasn’t a question.

Zullie laughed, waving her hand back and forth. “No, no. We’re not stupid. We’re just trying to punch a little hole into this Underworld place. No Hell involved.”

“And,” Arkk started, glancing at Vezta, “breaking through to the Underworld isn’t going to end this world or anything, right?”

“I don’t see why it would,” the servant answered. “The planes have been connected before without ending the world. We’re merely reopening a door that has been closed for a long time.”

Arkk nodded his head, accepting her answer as he turned back to Zullie. “You’ve figured out how to do this? Work some ancient magic nobody has gotten working before?”

“It helps that we have someone who has seen this kind of magic working, knows why it stopped working, and has a general idea of how to fix it,” Zullie said, motioning toward Vezta. “When I publish, I will be sure to mention your names in the footnotes.”

“Is it a good idea to publish anathema?”

“Of course! Posthumously.”

“Fair enough. So, how do we do this?”

“Not easily, unfortunately.” Turning around, Zullie approached the large table in the library and whisked a cloth off the top.

Arkk took a few minutes to figure out what he was staring at. Several vaulted iron archways surrounded a diamond-shaped pool of water. Thin bridges reached out from all four corners, stretching to a pentagonal altar in the center of the pool. Several tiny runes were inscribed on the altar, each so small that Arkk had to get up and squint down at it just to see. As he did so, he noted several other pentagonal circles spaced around the outside edge of the pool of water, one placed beneath each of the archways.

“It’s only a model,” Zullie said. “Vezta tried to explain the schematics that let you build rooms but I didn’t quite get it. Instead, I got that blacksmith orc to build this to my specifications. Hopefully one or both of you can figure out how to build a large-scale version.” Zullie pointed at the altar in the center of the pool of water. “That altar should be large enough to fit a full-sized orc within the inner pentagon. The rest of the room, likewise, expanded to scale.”

Arkk’s eyes widened. He didn’t know for sure without measuring it but just from a glance, it looked like the central altar would be roughly the size of the meeting room table. The room would be massive. Larger even than the orc barracks.

“It is modeled after the temple,” Vezta said, not moving from her position against the wall. “You may or may not recall the room with the large pool of water. That is where my former master beseeched the [PANTHEON] for their boons. The ritualistic elements were added by Zullie to facilitate our ‘evocation’ efforts.”

“And this will work?”

“Never seen evocation work, remember?” Zullie shrugged. “No idea if this will do anything at all. We’re venturing into the unknown.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“Hopefully, we learn something.”

Vezta shoved off the wall, stepping closer. “While I may not know much of magic, I do know a few odds and ends. Evocation, as Zullie refers to it as, was not a type of magic commonly seen. A layperson would not have the magical capacity to reach through the walls of realities. It was the type of magic that required several spellcasters, advanced preparation, and,” she paused, motioning to the model on the table. “And a lot of work. It is no surprise that such magics have died off. Even a large number of spellcasters wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything with the way magic has withered away in this world.”

“But we will?” Arkk asked.

“It will still require work and personnel, but Fortress Al-Mir will make what others find to be impossible just within our reach. We should have the gold reserves to cover the construction of the temple,” Vezta said. “It will cause a sizable dent compared to your other constructions, however.”

“Not like I’m using it for anything else,” Arkk mumbled. “I suppose I’ll have the lesser servants start digging? If you can get me the exact size of the room, that would be appreciated.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Vezta said with a bow.

Arkk nodded, then looked back to Zullie. “I assume there is a little more to this than just building this temple?” Work and personnel. He could already see several points around the model that looked like they were intended for spellcasters.

Zullie let out a withering laugh. “A little,” she said with a snort before pointing at the central altar. “You’ll need to position yourself here,” she said. “From there, you need a spellcaster of at least my caliber at each of the four corners.” Her finger crossed from point to point. “Between each corner, at each ritual circle, you can have lesser spellcasters. I’ve been testing the orcs. Not many of those I’ve seen will suffice. You’ll need to find others for the remainder of the spots.”

Arkk did some quick math. There were five spots between each corner. Twenty in total. Ilya’s group of orcs had yet to return. If even half of those who had passed through the Fortress in the last few days were able to fill those spots, that was only about six orcs. Even if Ilya’s group were all able to fulfill Zullie’s requirements, that still left several empty places. And Zullie wasn’t sounding all that optimistic about the orcs.

Not to mention the four corners.

“Vezta can take one of the corners, right?”

Zullie shook her head, glancing at Vezta.

The monster’s many eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Not exactly,” she said, voice cool. “My magical capacity is pitiful. I might suffice in one of the lesser ritual circles, but even that is uncertain.”

“Rather than have her perform that role, however, I believe she would be better suited to standing in the central circle alongside you. You provide immense magical power. She provides a symbolic connection to this Pantheon thing. Symbology is quite important in ritual magic.”

Arkk pressed his fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes. “I don’t suppose either of you has suggestions for where we might find three more capable spellcasters and several others for the lesser slots?”

Uncomfortable silence greeted him. It lasted long enough to force Arkk to open his eyes. He shifted his gaze from Zullie to Vezta and back.

“Anyone?”

“I went through a list of all my colleagues at the academy. Of the ones who might be capable of helping, I only came up with one name who might be willing. And he is a fairly big might. That’s the biggest problem. Anyone in good standing with the Abbey of the Light is more likely to report us than help us.”

“Great.”

One problem after another.

Arkk stood outside the Smilesville Burg garrison. Compared to the garrison in Cliff or even Darkwood, it was a wooden hut that wouldn’t stand up to a stiff breeze. Still, it had mercenary jobs posted. Mostly local affairs. Things that needed doing within about a day or two of travel from Smilesville. It did have a few larger warrants out for enemies of the Duchy.

Now that he had spent a few days distracting himself from his pessimism with other work, he had become a little more optimistic.

He was starting to think that this would work. The mercenary business at Darkwood hadn’t exactly gone as planned but it hadn’t exactly gone poorly either. Sure, he had wound up poisoned and had to be carried away from a potential riot. That was a bit of a downer. But upon arriving at the Smilesville garrison, he found a letter addressed to him from Hawkwood full of praise for the successful defense of Darkwood. Arkk wasn’t sure who told Hawkwood but that praise meant something. It meant someone was paying attention.

If Hawkwood was paying attention, perhaps, just perhaps, the Duke was as well. He had heard that the Duke often invited various prominent figures, including the leaders of mercenary companies, to his lavish parties. That, as far as he could tell, was the best bet for getting into contact with Alya. He and Ilya had written letters to her several times over the years and never received anything in response. Arkk wasn’t exactly sure what her situation was right now, only that the Duke apparently listened to her. So, forcing a confrontation using one of those parties would work best.

But that wasn’t why he had come today. At least, not the only reason. It was definitely something he was keeping in mind as he browsed through stacks of papers at the Smilesville garrison.

Unlike Cliff where they posted jobs out on a signboard unless the weather turned bad, Arkk had to enter the garrison and browse through their files. They just didn’t get used often enough to justify having them out in the open. That meant that Arkk could go through even the older bounties that had never been claimed.

One of which he recognized. The sketch of Olatt’an depicted a younger, tusk-filled mask of snarling rage. Seeing that might have given Arkk nightmares as a child. Now, he found himself confused over how the easy-going elderly orc could possibly be the same person as the one listed as wanted for nearly every crime it was possible to commit.

Sliding that paper aside, Arkk browsed through the rest. Paper after paper went onto the discard pile, making sure to maintain their order so that the archivists here didn’t get upset with him. Eventually, however, he spotted something promising. Another scowling face, this time of a human that looked about ready to eat a whole pile of babies. Most of the sketches were of scowling individuals. Very few had normal expressions on their faces.

The bounty was old. Posted about six months ago. Wanted dead or alive, Savren of Hope’s Rest was accused of practicing foul magics of the most awful sort. What exactly those foul magics were wasn’t listed. Still, Arkk figured this was as good as he was going to get for now. He flipped through the remainder of the notices but failed to find anything promising.

Leaving the rest of the papers in a neat pile, Arkk headed up to the archivist.

“Has there been any more information on this Savren person?” Arkk asked, sliding the paper across a wide desk.

The woman seated on the other side of the desk adjusted her round glasses as she looked up. “Savren of… Oh. The Hope Killer.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, not sure he wanted to ask but, at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself. “Hope Killer?”

“From Hope’s Rest,” she said, a slight nasal tone in her voice. “Put the whole village to rest, didn’t he now?”

“Killed a whole village?” Arkk said, mentally groaning. He had been paying attention to the magic listed on the paper, not what the man had done with the magic.

“No. Put some kind of sleeping spell over all eighty people there. ’twas a few months ago and they haven’t woken up since. Mind magics.”

“But they’re alive?” Arkk asked with a frown.

“Sure are, but they don’t wake. Don’t eat. Don’t even breathe. Just sit, still alive but as good as dead,” she said. That sounded like a bit more than mind magic to Arkk but, even with Zullie’s tutelage, he was still far from knowledgeable. “The brightest spellcasters from the academy haven’t been able to wake them. As far as I understand it, they were taken to a larger church and are just… stored there until something can be done about them.”

“Then why Hope Killer?”

“Catchier than Hope Rester now isn’t it?” the archivist said, turning to a large paper-filled drawer.

“I guess,” Arkk said with a slight shake of his head. The possibility of recruiting this spellcaster was a little bit more palatable than it had been a moment ago. Zullie said that no one in good standing would help them out, leaving Arkk to track down people who weren’t in good standing. He knew what that meant, but he didn’t want someone who would callously slaughter an entire village.

He tried not to investigate the pasts of the orcs in his employ for much the same reason. At least most of them had fought against a demon summoning and were now making amends through honest mercenary work. More or less.

The archivist turned back with another paper in her hand. She laid it out on the desk, facing it toward Arkk. “Last news on Savren was reported three months ago. Other burgs might have more up-to-date information.”

“Spotted in the mines of…” Arkk started reading, only to pause as he recognized a name. It clicked a moment later. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Something wrong?”

“The mines of Silver City,” Arkk said, thinking back to his first outing to find mercenary jobs in Cliff. “I recognize that name. A den of gorgon moved in. It has been one of the largest outstanding mercenary jobs for… about three months. No one has dared take it up, I’ve heard.”

“Ah. Probably explains why we haven’t had any updates on Savren. He’s been turned to stone. Good riddance, I say.”

Arkk sighed, fearing he might have to go to a larger burg to find more information on spellcasters who might be willing to participate in an evocation ritual. “Mind if I get a paper to write all this down on anyway?” he asked. Might as well have Vezta scry the mines and see if it was full of gorgon or not.

If Arkk were trying to hide, starting a rumor of some of the most dangerous creatures in existence living around him would be a great way to keep all but the most dedicated of bounty hunters away from him.

The archivist handed over ink and paper in exchange for a silver coin. Arkk quickly scribbled down every bit of information, from the location of Hope’s Rest to the various villages Savren had been spotted in before winding up at Silver City. In the end, he thanked the archivist for her help and left the garrison.

He made it about three steps down the street before spotting something unpleasant. A black carriage, gleaming with the striped emblem of the Duchy on the side, sat just outside the local stayover. A familiar man with a wide black hat sat at the reins of the horses. Arkk didn’t stick around any longer. Ducking back into the alcove of the garrison’s entryway, just out of sight of the guards, he teleported straight back into Fortress Al-Mir.

And ended up in front of Vezta, who was currently trying to convert Zullie’s model into a useable schematic for construction.

“We have a minor emergency. Maybe a major one,” Arkk said, pulling a crystal ball to him.

Vezta canted her head to one side, looking away from the model to peer into the glass ball.

He held it out and immediately began scrying on the Smilesville stayover. The Smilesville stayover had an external staircase to four rooms, all perched over a tavern. It took only a second to flick through each of the rooms before finding the black-cloaked inquisitors in the third.

The short chronicler sat on the edge of the bed, reading from a small book. The purifier stood perfectly still at the window, watching outside. There was no sign of High Inquisitor Darius Vrox, but something about the purifier sent chills up Arkk’s spine.

Adjusting the viewpoint of the crystal ball, he let out an audible groan as he noted the direction the purifier was looking.

If she had been standing there a few moments ago, she would have had a clear view of him stepping outside the garrison and then ducking back in.

“I need you to keep watch on these people,” Arkk said. “I’m sorry, but until they leave the vicinity, this takes priority over the temple room.”

“I can handle both tasks at once,” Vezta said with a mild bow.

“Good. Thank you.”