Fortress Al-Mir

“This library is useless,” Ilya said, tossing a book into the trash pile. A pile that was growing much faster than the keep pile.

Fortress Al-Mir’s library might have been an impressive collection of tomes and knowledge at one point in time, but that time had long since passed. If only time had been eating away at this room, there might have been some worth salvaging. Unfortunately, much like many other rooms in the fortress, there was a fissure in the ceiling. This one wasn’t as large as the one Arkk had fallen into, but water could get in easily.

Very few books were in any kind of state to be touched, let alone read. Assuming mold hadn’t eaten the book, it still probably couldn’t be opened. Those that could be opened without destroying the entire thing were, more often than not, lacking any text on their pages. The words had been washed away or the ink had simply decayed over the ages.

Arkk had a small pile next to him. A dozen full books and a handful of scattered pages. Vezta, sitting at a desk next to him, was doing her best to clean them of their filth without further damaging them.

But even those were more or less useless.

“I just don’t understand how you can’t read them,” Arkk said, frowning as he copied legible symbols from one book that was too damaged to believe it would be around for much longer. The Baron had graciously provided a few rolls of vellum.

Even with the small stack of books here, nobody present could read the words. The particular page he was working on had a crude depiction of eight women bathing in a green pool. At least, that was what he thought it was. In truth, it could be anything. The book was filled with plants and animals that he had never seen before—or that he couldn’t recognize from the faded and, frankly, amateurish drawings.

“Aren’t these from the time of your former master?”

Vezta’s hands did not slow as she looked up to Arkk, continuing to copy the text as she spoke. “In truth, I only know the [CONSTRUCTED LANGUAGE]. The [HEART] is what allows me to communicate with you and all who speak your language. It was the same with my former master. With his passing, I no longer have access to his knowledge of languages. The text present in these tomes is as unfamiliar to me as it is to you.”

“This is a waste of time,” Ilya grumbled, tossing aside yet another book. “We should be back out hunting. Especially now, with the damage the farms sustained.”

Arkk sighed. This wasn’t the first time they had gone through this argument in the last five days.

At first, Ilya was all for uncovering more about the history of Fortress Al-Mir. Unfortunately, aside from Vezta, who Ilya didn’t exactly trust, there were no real sources of information. Langleey Village didn’t have a library or any historians. The closest thing was the Baron’s sitting room, which had a handful of historical books. However, none were historical enough. None mentioned anything pre-Calamity. One of his books listed old rulers and kings, but there had been no mention of Razerk, Vezta’s former master.

They hadn’t only been reading old tomes. There was work to be done. Ilya and Arkk had gone out to recover her bow and the horses left from their hunting trip, using a teleportation ritual handily provided by Vezta to cut the time spent into a small fraction of what it otherwise would have taken.

Vezta had been quite pleased to put her skills to use in rebuilding the burned-out homes. She could lift an entire wall on her own, hammering fasteners into place at the same time with her plethora of tendrils. Of course, that had spooked the villagers a bit at first, but Arkk thought they got over it. Having proper homes back in mere days instead of weeks was worth it.

“Arkk,” Ilya said, voice stiff. “One of your things is back.”

Looking up from the manuscripts, Arkk scowled. One of the four lesser servants crawled through the door and started eating the pile of trash books, the emptied shelves, and even parts of the floor and walls. Its mouths had some kind of magic to them, allowing them to bite right through solid stone and earth. He had seen them eating the debris in caved-in corridors as if the stone was little more than bread.

“It isn’t going to touch anything we’re still using,” Arkk said with confidence. “Just ignore it.”

“Vezta is bad enough. If anyone else saw these things…”

“They’re the same species as you, right? Can’t they… look like you do?”

“They are nowhere near me,” Vezta said, slight offense in her tone. “They are, however, protoplasmic beings, able to assume any form their duties require of them.”

“So if their duties require them to look normal—”

“Normal is subjective, Master.” Vezta sighed. “But I understand your desires. I suppose I can teach them some tricks of aesthetics. Would you prefer that task to take priority over the books?”

“No,” Arkk said. “Better finish copying and cleaning the books before they deteriorate any further.”

“Where does everything they eat even go?” Ilya asked, staring at the monster with grotesque fascination as its gaping maw inhaled a rotted and worn desk three times its size. “I’ve seen these things eat entire rooms filled with broken beds, bodies, equipment, and tools. They aren’t that big.”

“Beings of the [HEART] return material for transmutation.”

“Transmutation?” Arkk asked.

“Are you unfamiliar with transmutation tablets, Master?”

“Arkk.”

“Have you not checked the [HEART] chamber in recent days, Arkk?”

“I’ve been busy,” Arkk said, dipping his pen back into the vial of ink. “Still busy,” he said.

Ilya stood, dusting off her leather pants. “I’ll check it. Anything to get away from this room for a bit. I think I’ve got mold growing in my hair…”

Arkk waved her off. They were pretty much done with the library anyway. There was only one shelf left to sort through and it was the most damaged shelf in the entire room, positioned directly under the fissure. He wasn’t expecting anything from it. Letting the servant eat it now would probably save a lot of time.

“Master,” Vezta said after a few minutes.

“Arkk, please.”

“I… It is the height of impropriety to bring up my former master unbidden,” Vezta said, setting down her pen for the first time since they started.

Recognizing that she had something important to ask, he finished copying the line he was on and lowered his pen as well. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Razerk left me with one final mission. One I have been unable to accomplish. My failure has been weighing on me for centuries now… and I…”

“You want to finish it?” Arkk closed his eyes, thinking back to their conversation nearly a week ago now. “Undoing whatever the… gods did to weaken your former master?”

“It would be beneficial to you as well, Master,” Vezta said, speaking faster as if afraid he would reject her. “Breaking the seal on the world would allow the [HEART] to access the [PANTHEON]’s power. You would be able to gain their blessings. We would be able to reopen the portal to begin hiring employees beyond those humans with whom you are acquainted. And… I would be free to dedicate myself wholeheartedly toward your goals without the shadow of failure weighing on my shoulders.”

“What exactly would we be doing if we undo this? I don’t know much of anything about… gods. The Abbess prays to the Light and receives blessings of healing to distribute in return. Beyond that, the Light is supposed to be the source of all life, growing the plants, blessing births, protecting—”

“Lies,” Vezta hissed. “Protection? Life? The gods, the Heart of Gold, Holy Light, and Almighty Glory are beings of death and destruction. They…” Vezta paused, pressing her lips together. “I do not know the full history of the world,” she said eventually. “I am not exactly certain about what my former master wished of me. Initially, he sent me out to discover what had happened to the portal—perhaps you saw the room with the crystal archway?”

“I did, yes,” Arkk said, thinking back to his initial tour of the fortress. Thinking about it, he could see it just as he could see any other location within the fortress. A large room with a high ceiling, dominated by a pale crystal structure as large as a small home. Shaking his head, Arkk refocused on Vezta, barely noting the red light fading around them. “What of it?”

“That is a portal that leads to the [UNDERWORLD]. A realm once connected to this world, now severed. My former master recruited heavily from the magical inhabitants there to form his armies.”

“Magical inhabitants?”

“Most magical beings are not native to this world,” Vezta said, sounding an awful lot like Abbess Keena when lecturing. “The [UNDERWORLD] is one of many elsewheres such creatures originate from.”

“I… see…”

“Think of it as another continent except on a far grander scale with travelers hailing from afar.”

“Huh.

“In any case, I set out to uncover why the portal stopped functioning. I believe I have a solution, although I don’t know exactly what needs to be done as I planned on relying on my former master’s vast knowledge of ritual magic to finalize the plans. However, I have determined in the years since that the portal is merely a small symptom of a much greater illness in this world.

“From the context of what you and Ilya have spoken of, I believe my former master wished for me to undo what you refer to as the Calamity.”

Arkk blinked several times, eyes widening. “You want to undo the Calamity?”

The Calamity, to Arkk, was little more than a myth. It was something that had happened so long ago that it was entirely irrelevant to him. But he knew the stories. The sky darkened for years. Life withered. Magic weakened. Entire races perished. Monsters of old, creatures beyond mere beastmen or demihumans, had vanished. Only the dragons had survived, and everyone knew they were a dying race, unable to procreate. Every dragon that died was one dragon permanently removed from the world, never to be replaced.

“Is that even possible?”

“The effects of the Calamity have already rippled through the world. Those who died would not magically return to life. But we can restore the proper order of the world, how it was meant to be before your so-called Light interfered.”

“But is it possible? I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint you, Vezta, but I’m not some great magi of old or even a proper spellcaster. I’m a farmer. A hunter. I’m not even very good at the latter job.”

Vezta shook her head. “It would be a task far beyond any mortal.”

“Then—”

“But you are no mere mortal, Master. You have claimed the [HEART] of Fortress Al-Mir. It is not fully functional yet but it is still a magical artifact unrivaled by anything else in existence. If it can be restored, such a task may just be within our grasp. In addition, there are other [HEART]s out there. They were relatively common in my former master’s time. Lay claim to those and reversing the calamity would be a matter most trivial.

“The first step, I believe, should still be to restore functionality to the portal. I know roughly how to fix that. If you were to recruit a capable spellcaster or delve into such studies yourself, I believe we could accomplish that task in short order.”

Arkk stared at the woman before him, wondering if there wasn’t something to Ilya’s fear of this place. The way Vezta spoke, the fervor in her voice, that utter belief that the [HEART], and Arkk by extension, was capable of undoing the Calamity. The legends he knew spoke of the Calamity like it was a force of nature. Not something that anyone had been able to fight, whether they be human, dragon, or…

Apparently not gods, if Vezta’s claims that the Light had caused the Calamity were true.

“This Underworld place is your home?” Arkk said, mostly trying to fill the silent gap with some sound so that he wasn’t left dwelling on his thoughts. “Or where you came from?”

Vezta shook her head, then looked upward toward the recently repaired arching ceiling. “I am a being of the [STARS].”

“Ah.” Arkk’s eyes flicked to one of the golden sun-like eyes set into the cuff on her wrist. “Makes sense, I guess. Still, repairing the Calamity? That sounds so grandiose for someone like…” Trailing off, Arkk shook his head. He straightened his back and locked eyes with Vezta. “No. I made a promise to be someone you can look up to. If you say I can do it, then I’ll do my best.”

Vezta stood, kneeled, then bowed until her forehead touched the ground. “Thank you, Master. I feel as if this weight I have been carrying is lessened already. I will not fail you.”

“You… don’t need to do that. Please don’t do that. If Ilya saw you like that, she would think I am forcing you—”

A voice from behind Arkk made him shudder. “You mean you aren’t a depraved, love-deprived fool abusing your servant?”

Turning slowly in his seat, Arkk winced under Ilya’s silver eyes. “I’m not… She’s not… It’s not what you think!”

“Oh?” Ilya raised an eyebrow. “I think it is exactly what I think.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Your servant is a monster who can’t comprehend normal human mannerisms.”

“No, it’s…” Arkk trailed off, glancing back at Vezta. The servant was still kneeling but was no longer bowing. Her back was upright as she watched the goings on with a smile. “Yes. Probably that. Or else she does comprehend humans and is just trying to embarrass me.”

“I would never,” Vezta said, returning to her feet. Arkk could not decide if the tone in her voice was sincere or sarcastic.

“Never mind that,” Ilya said, tossing something toward Arkk. “Did you know about this?”

Arkk caught a coin. A heavy coin that gleamed a brilliant gold in the light from the library’s glowstones. One side had the same compass rose that was stamped on every corridor tile. Like the tiles, it had a little blue-violet gemstone set directly in the center of the coin. The other side was a labyrinthine maze, much like the [HEART].

Hearing clanking, Arkk glanced up to find Ilya holding out a whole fistful of identical coins.

“Where did you find these? Some treasure room?”

“They were sitting around the heart chamber. Arkk, just the amount in my hands makes you wealthier than the Baron, probably, and there were three piles up to my knees.”

“Transmutation,” Vezta said, leaning forward. She plucked the coin from Arkk’s hands, looking over it before handing it back. “The servants recycled the material from the old rooms. You should be able to use this to construct proper replacements, defenses, furnishings, and so forth.”

“Wait, wait,” Ilya said, holding up her free hand. “You’re saying those things eat whatever they want and vomit it up as gold?”

“Nothing so crude,” Vezta said, annoyed.

“You’re upset I’m calling that crude?” Ilya pointed a finger at the bubbling pustule of flesh, eyes, and maws.

It gurgled like the world’s emptiest stomach as it ripped off a rotted plank from the wall, shredding it with its teeth. One of its eyes popped as a fresh replacement bubbled up from under its oily flesh, though it somehow managed to not get gunk all over the place. Magic, probably.

“Right,” Ilya said. “I rest my case.”

Vezta pressed her lips together. “I’ll see about teaching them better,” she said, retaking her seat in front of one of the thick tomes. Several shadowy, dripping tendrils sprouted from her back. Each picked up a pen and she began scrawling out the copy of the book onto fresh vellum at an absurd speed. “As soon as I finish my priority task.”

Ilya stepped forward, grabbing hold of Arkk’s shoulder. “Do you know what this means?” she asked, waving the hand still full of gold. A few coins fell, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m rich?” When Ilya narrowed her eyes, Arkk tried again, “We’re rich?”

“It means you better be real careful about who hears about this place. If word spreads about a handful of gold coins sitting in the middle of the Cursed Forest, people are going to come searching. This much coin and I’m sure everyone and their mother will be after it. Hell, half the people would probably be willing to stab their own mothers just for what I’ve got in my hand.”

“Assaults on Fortress Al-Mir are not an uncommon occurrence,” Vezta said, not looking up from her work. “In its current state, defending against an army would be perilous. I should be more than adequate to deal with any common thief.”

Ilya threw a glare in Vezta’s direction before shifting that glare to Arkk.

Arkk barely paid attention to her, however, rolling a gold coin between his fingers as he thought.

The fortress was a strange oddity. But it was just that. An oddity. Something he wanted to use, along with Vezta, to learn more magic from. More than that? Vezta kept calling it the ultimate defensive and offensive tool. He hadn’t thought much about what that meant. He didn’t see how a stationary building could be an offensive tool.

This, however, got his mind working. While he was sure it wasn’t what Vezta had meant, a way to create gold could certainly count as an offensive weapon. Gold could get him mercenaries, food and supplies, craftsmanship, materials, and just about anything else he could think of.

“How much gold can we get out of this place, Vezta?”

“I am unsure. My former master chose this location due to the presence of a large deposit of gold underneath the fortress. I do not believe he managed to mine even a small fraction of it.”

“We’re sitting on a gold mine?” Ilya said, looking faint. “This is going to draw the Duke’s attention.”

“Only if people find out. I’m not going to tell. You aren’t going to either. Vezta won’t.” Arkk tapped the gold coin on the desk, listening to the clink. “Maybe we can use this.”

“Arkk…”

“Hear me out. Your mother—”

“My mother,” she hissed. “The Duke took her as a tribute after a season of poor harvest. What has that got to do with this?”

“We couldn’t pay then, but now—”

Ilya’s face hardened. “Arkk… We’ve talked about this. You were barely old enough to remember and I was young too. The other villagers say he was after Mother for years, just looking for an excuse to take her. A fistful of gold isn’t going to make him—”

“You don’t know that. This changes things.” He held up the coin, looking at his shiny glint in the light of the library’s glowstones. “We have to try. She raised me. Taught me to read. Told me about my magic ability. It is the least I can do for her.”

“If it isn’t enough? If he isn’t interested?” Silver eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, defiant. Like she didn’t want to dare hope for the possibility of seeing Alya again.

“With this much gold, someone will be interested. I always thought we were trapped in Langleey. Trapped with our lot in life,” Arkk said with a sigh. Ilya stared at Arkk, then looked over his shoulder, staring at Vezta for a long moment. “This is an opportunity. I know you want your mother back.”

Arkk looked around the room, first at the books. Although he held out hope that they would be able to find a way to translate them, they were worthless at the moment. With as much gold as Ilya had in her hands, he could probably just go to the city and buy all the spell books he wanted and then some. Vezta… had something she wanted done as well. The first step of which was to find a capable spellcaster or for Arkk to learn magic himself. The latter would likely take too long but with gold, he could hire someone.

His parents had died when he was young. Before he could remember them. After that, Alya, Ilya’s mother, raised him. He remembered more of Alya than of his parents, but even that wasn’t much. Just a beautiful woman with a caring look in her eyes who was always there when Jorgen and Hurtt were being cruel. If not for Alya, he might not have learned to read and write.

“I want her back,” Ilya admitted, voice a slight whisper.

Vezta stood, turning to face Ilya and Arkk. Her tendrils continued scribing behind her back. “Master Arkk, forgive my impudence but I overheard your plans.”

Arkk raised an eyebrow. “We weren’t trying to hide. We weren’t even speaking quietly.”

“Most benevolent,” Vezta said with a slight bow. “However, in lieu of proper advisors, allow this servant to fulfill that role. Fortress Al-Mir is the ultimate offensive tool, but it is not yet in an operational state. We require additional funds to construct rooms and facilities. There are no employees to operate the rooms or serve as martial forces. In addition, you are inexperienced with the operation of the [HEART] and have a limited repertoire of spells, one of the [HEART]’s greatest offerings is vast magical power, growing ever larger as it acquires territory and employees. Opening the portal will solve several of these issues, but not all of them. Engaging in conflict with a Duke, who presumably has a standing army, is… not ideal at the present time.”

“Woah, woah, hold on.” Arkk glanced to Ilya. “We’re not starting a war with the Duke.”

Some, but not all, of Vezta’s eyes blinked. “Were you not proposing we hire additional forces using the gold?”

“I…” Arkk started, looking at Ilya. “Mercenaries, yes. Someone has to be willing to take a job to rescue an elf from the Duke, right? Probably demihumans and beastmen over humans… But not… war.”

“We just need to meet with him first,” Ilya said before either of them could get out of hand. “If he does accept a fistful of gold, then we should take it long before we start plotting anything more violent.”

“Rescue,” Arkk said.

“Whatever.” Ilya’s eyes shifted toward the ritual circles on the floor in the back of the library. There were two, side by side. One went to Langleey Village, the other went to the opposite side of the Cursed Forest which they had used to recover their hunting supplies. “Can you make another one of those to the city? Cliff?”

“That depends on the distance, but…” Vezta turned her head away from Ilya. “Master Arkk, forgive my impu—”

“You don’t need to say that every time. I’m not going to take offense at anything you say.”

“You are dressed like a [simpleton]/[peasant]/[village idiot].”

Arkk pressed his lips together, glancing down at his leather tunic and hemp undershirt. Ilya snorted, donning a smile at Vezta’s comment until she realized that she was dressed in nearly identical clothing.

“Okay. I might take some offense at the things you say.”

“If you are wishing to meet with a duke as equals—or at least lessen the gap in your status—a change of attire is [required],” Vezta said. “My master is greater than any duke, earl, or king. I cannot have you carrying on as you are if you are to meet with such individuals of objectively lower standing.”

“Then what do you suggest,” Arkk said, crossing his arms.

A tendril snapped out from under Vezta’s dress. She used it to pick up one of the fallen gold coins. Handing it off to her actual hand, she rolled it between her knuckles before pinching it between her thumb and fingers. “Allow me to show you how the [HEART] is meant to operate.”