Chapter 492 - The 'H' Word

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The night at had already begun to settle in as Hump took a break outside their accommodation, staring out across the many islands to the north of Urandel. Celaine had already gone to bed, so he sat alone and watched Nisha as she soared through the sky, cheering her on. He’d been training, but now his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t know what to do. Gaining access to the Nexus had proved fruitful, but at the same time, it had left him unable to focus on anything else. So much needed doing. Transport to Loften’s dungeon, new equipment, a new arm for Dylan, new spells for him. Then there was Walt and the library, his enchantment table, and Nisha’s training. There was only so much time in the day and it all needed to be done.

But time was short. Godfrey was here too. In this world. And if he found them, Hump wasn’t sure there was anything anyone could do to stop him. That terrified him. Dylan had already lost an arm. They’d all come close to death in the battle in the seal chamber beneath Elenvine. Most of the equipment that had kept them alive was gone: the Silver Sprig Owalyn had gifted him destroyed, the charms he’d taken from the Royal Armoury, along with many powerful elixirs.

They were not prepared for a battle against a ninth circle traitor Chosen. Yet every instinct in Hump’s body told him that they would encounter Godfrey again if they went looking for Loften’s dungeon.

“Can we talk?” Bud asked, stepping outside to join Hump.

Hump looked at him and saw the contemplation on his face. “Sure.”

Bud took a seat beside him. “What will we do about Godfrey? I think he may be too far above us to do anything about.”

“What happened to being on the path the gods laid out for us?” Hump asked, trying to sound positive. “You’re supposed to be the confident one!”

“I don’t know,” Bud said softly. “These days I just… don’t know anymore.”

Guilt rose up in Hump. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. I’m the one that keeps pressing it, and I’m sorry for that. As much as I’ve made fun of it, I’ve always admired your faith and commitment. I hate to see you struggling like this.”

Bud leaned back against the wall and stared up. The two moons were visible overhead, the stars around them. “It’s weird. I was so confident for so long, then suddenly I wasn’t. The change wasn’t gradual. I just realised one day that doubt had crept in.”

“Is there not always an element of doubt to faith?” Hump said.

Bud shook his head. “It was never like that for me. Even when my mother passed away, I never doubted the path I was on. But now I really wonder what we’ll find if we make it to the Path to Heaven. I’m not even sure I want to know.” His fists were clenched on his lap, knuckles white. “I can’t imagine life without Kelisia. No, actually. That’s not true. Being here, I’m beginning to imagine it. My blessings still work, but I can no longer feel her like I always could before. Her presence has faded. It’s isolating. I don’t know how you stand it.”

Hump tried to imagine what it would be like to have an ever-present connection like that. A tether that always pulled you in the right direction, and complete confidence that it wouldn’t lead you astray. It was difficult. He didn’t remember his family, but what Bud described gave him the impression of what it might be like to move out of home for the first time. There was Nisha—she was always present now, but her feelings and thoughts flowed through him like a second mind.

“It’s hard for me to imagine what you’re going through,” Hump said. “The idea of something… greater guiding my direction is strange. It would be nice not to have so many doubts, but at the same time I feel like I need those doubts to make decisions. It’s only by working my way through them that I figure out what I truly want.”

“But how do you keep going against all this darkness without someone to rely on and trust in?”

“I don’t manage without,” Hump said softly. “You are who I rely on. You, Celaine, Dylan, and Emilia. Without you, I don’t think I could face it. And all of us have your back just the same. Her presence may have faded for now, but you’re not isolated. And we still don’t know everything about the Pantheon’s situation. I hope your faith is rewarded, Bud. I really do.”

Bud smiled. “Thank you.” After a few moments, he added. “You used the ‘H’ word.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Hump did an exaggerated shudder. “Doesn’t feel right. I stand by it though. Let’s say the Pantheon are not the gods we have been raised to believe, but mortals that have ascended to great power. That means they are people just like us. Each will have their own individuality. Their own goals and values. And all of them will be beholden to various things that have power over them, just as we are. It’s very possible that Kelisia will reward your faith yet. It’s possible that her history with the First Master of the Book of Infinite Pages is also correct. One doesn’t disprove the other.”

“What of her blessings binding my soul and restricting my progress?” Bud asked.

“You’re keeping up with me. Maybe she had no choice. Maybe there were other factors involved that forced her to participate, like how Loften requires the marks on the altari to hold this world together.”

Bud laughed.

Hump smiled, pleased to see him cheering up, but also confused. “What?”

“I just never imagined us switching sides like this. You’re a good friend, Hump. It means a lot that you would argue against your own values for my sake.”

“I’d do a whole lot more than that for you, Bud. And you for me. No matter where this path leads us, it is you and the rest of the party that matter to me. The gods, demons, warlocks, and everything else can do what they like, but at the end of the day, you all are what matter to me.”

“That’s nice, but don’t go giving up on the world for our sake,” Bud said. “We’re all fighters. Our path is one of violence, whether it’s been laid by the gods or something else, it’s one of bloodshed and death. We’re all willing to do that because it’s about more than us.”

“Are you willing to walk head on into Godfrey?” Hump asked. “To let Emilia walk head on into him? Because I’m worried that’s exactly what we’re doing. And just like you said, I have no idea how we can beat him. We got lucky once, barely survived, and didn’t even hurt him.”

“You think we will find him?”

“If we go to Loften’s dungeon, I struggle to imagine that we won’t. That may just be my fear talking though. Perhaps he’ll have no idea and we’ll be gone from this world before he’s even had time to orientate himself. He doesn’t have Acalin’s party after all, nor Loften to provide direction.” Hump paused and looked at Bud. “Shit.”

“What?”

Hump slimped forward, burying his face in his hands. Worry filled his stomach, a sudden, sinking dread. “It’s completely possible Loften is working with Godfrey too. Why wouldn’t he? Their goals somewhat align too. Loften wants revenge, and Godfrey wants to reach the Path to Heaven.”

“I thought he needs your book to escape.”

“So he says, but Godfrey is a ninth circle traitor Chosen. He may simply have the strength to break him out, given time.”

“I struggle to believe Loften would work for a traitor, even if he was exiled. He is still a god.”

“A god willing to use the entire world of altari as a hostage to force me to do what he wants. If his goal is merely to escape his prison and get revenge, then Godfrey may make a better ally against the Pantheon than us.”

***

Marcela Daston stood tall beside Lady Isolde and General Korteg, commanders of the forces laying to the warlock stronghold in the Remnant Realm. They were gathered at the rear of their forward encampment, the warlock fortress visible through the tent flaps behind them. It still held, but after weeks of magical bombardment and attrition, its defences were beginning to buckle.

Despite herself, Marcela did not feel as if she belonged here. Her father had requested she be present, which was the only reason someone of her rank was to be included in a meeting as important as this one. Not that anyone would deny her. The general was a close friend of her father and the Dastons.

Isolde stood resplendent, clad in gold and white armour, the Chosen of Ordana wore a sword at her hip. Her presence was like the warmth of dawn, even beyond the battle. By contrast, General Korteg was a mountain of a man—broad-shouldered, iron-helmed, his greatsword slung casually over one shoulder. The Chosen of Byzantius had the grizzled calm of a man who had lived through hundreds of battles, even now, on the day they were to meet the new king.

Marcela shifted at attention as the air before them shimmered, light cracking across the fabric of reality. A portal opened with a hum of power, its centre swirling with essence. From within stepped a woman Marcela recognised instantly—Lorissa, the Chosen of Vesta. They had only spoken briefly in the past, but she was Dylan’s partner and that was enough of a reason for her to stick in Marcela’s memory. She was just as she remembered—sharp brown eyes, long brown hair braided neatly behind her head, and a smattering of freckles across her nose that gave her a youthful softness despite the steel in her gaze.

Behind her, Marcela’s father followed. Count Benedict Daston. Her heart stopped.

It was the first time she’d seen him since hearing of the Battle of Elenvine. One eye was gone entirely, an empty socket in its place. A savage scar ran from his collarbone up the side of his neck and jaw, as if something had tried to tear his head from his shoulders.

Marcela’s hand flew to her mouth. “Father…”

His letter had not mentioned this.

“Lady Isolde,” her father said with a stiff nod, his voice hoarse. “I am pleased to see you in good health. General—a pleasure as always.”

General Korteg stepped forward and the two giants clasped hands. “That is one mighty scar you carry now, my friend. It is good to see you.”

“How are things back home?” Lady Isolde asked.

“We live in dark times,” her father said. “But King Gregory has taken to his father’s throne with strength. It gives me hope that the sun may one daybreak through once more.”

Marcela barely heard him. All she could think of was how close she had come to losing him. Her father was a seventh circle Chosen of Avaroth—there were few things in this world that could harm him like that. And few wounds that would scar him.

Then his good eye turned to Marcela. “Don’t give me that look, Cela.” A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. “It’ll take more than this to kill me.”

Her decorum broke. She rushed forward and threw her arms around him. Little word had reached them in the Remnant Realm of the true situation in Elenvine, only what the army had been told. That demons and warlocks had invaded Elenvine, along with the traitor Chosen Tobias Godfrey, but that they had been defeated. There had been many losses but the name that came up most often was the White Flame Wizard.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Marcela said.

Her father’s arm wrapped around her, squeezing her shoulders. “Of course I’m here.”

“We will give you a minute,” General Korteg, stepping toward the portal. Isolde and their attendants went with them. “Join us when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” her father said.

Marcela ignored her embarrassment at the commanders seeing her like this and simply stood there for a while feeling far more like a child than she should have. She stepped back once the soldiers were gone, noticing that Lorissa still stood nearby, watching the reunion with a small smile.

Marcela turned to her. “Your name is Lorissa, isn’t it?”

Lorissa’s expression brightened. “It is, Lady Daston. I’m surprised you remember. We never spoke much.”

“Please, call me Marcela,” she said gently. “I saw you with Dylan often. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Lorissa’s smile grew stiff, grief behind her eyes. “Only for now. I still believe Dylan lives. Hump, Bud, Celaine, and Emilia too.”

Marcela’s lips parted, lost for words. “Forgive me—I thought… the stories say that the White Flame Wizard and his companions fell defeating the traitor Chosen. How can this be?”

“They are missing,” Lorissa said, unshaken. “King Gregory told me personally that he did not see them die.”

“They were lost,” her father added quietly. “Swallowed by an opening the veil. We cannot confirm their fate.”

“But there’s hope,” Marcela said.

Her father glanced in Lorissa’s direction, hesitation in his eyes. “We must cling on to hope where we can, but I simply do not know.”

Marcela reached out and gave Lorissa’s arm a squeeze. “If we don't know, then there's hope. We must talk later. I would like to know more of what Prince… King Gregory has said.”

“Come, Cela. We have much to catch up on, but it must wait until after the King’s Council is adjourned. I may need you to speak in my place one day.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “Please, Dad.”

He didn’t answer. When she looked up, his expression had hardened again—like carved stone.

“You must be strong,” he said. “The Veil is open. Incursions into our world are increasing daily. Cultists with barely any training are succeeding in demonic summonings. Dungeons appear faster than we can chart them. And the Red Fog of the Fallen Lands spreads more aggressively than ever.”

He took her hand, then placed it against his chest, over the scar.

“I don’t plan to leave this world anytime soon. But should the day come, you must be ready. For the sake of our house. For the people who depend on us.”

Marcela swallowed hard, then took a step back, standing tall. Her father’s words had struck something deep in her, firmed her spine. She turned her gaze toward the portal still shimmering with essence.

She exhaled slowly. “I’m ready.”