Mud and Magic Ch. 12

"I've noticed the enchantment when you dragged me over the threshold," Haloryth said with a grin. "I'm so glad no one decided to ward this place against the undead or we would have a little problem."

"She's become powerful enough to overcome Thurguz' wards?"

"The evidence speaks for itself," Haloryth said. "And sadly, power sometimes addles people's minds. It's like a drug." She looked around. "What are you looking for anyway? Maybe I can help?"

Rhys closed the door and sat down at his desk. "A talisman of Desire. I had it here, in this desk, before we left."

"Oh? What would an upstanding young man like you want with such a tainted item?"

Rhys sighed. "It's a long story. And not one of my finer moments." He cupped his face in both hands and sighed. "Maybe this is my fault after all."

"You can tell me. I promise I won't judge."

"Desire had been haunting my dreams. She's been trying to seduce me, to join her cause."

Haloryth circled around him, not minding if her lower body passed through his desk. "I don't see any grasping or cupping hands on or around you. Does that mean you refused her?"

"Yes. She left me a few souvenirs. In one dream, I had been slogging through mud and when I woke, my feet were dirty and mud-encrusted, along with most of my bed. And I found that talisman on my nightstand."

"You panicked?"

"Yes. I burned my bedsheets and hid the talisman. I should have destroyed it instead but so many things happened and-" He fought for breath.

"Don't blame yourself, please." Haloryth tried to embrace him. Her arms passed through his shoulders and she resigned herself to sitting on his desk and offering a bright smile. "We're talking about a divine being. When you refused her, she sought out the next target, someone easier to corrupt. Destroying the idol would have accomplished nothing. She'd simply create another one for Celeste to find."

"That sounds all very neat but it doesn't remove that ugly feeling in my stomach. I didn't know Hilgrun all that well but she was there for me when my world came crashing down."

Someone knocked at his door. Rhys sighed. "Come in."

Sen poked her head in. "Ah, here you are. Thurguz wants to lay Hilgrun to rest. You coming?"

"In a moment. Let me get out of these clothes first."

Sen entered his room, closed the door and leaned against it. "I'll happily wait." She shot him a little grin.

"Now is not the time," Rhys growled, shrugging out of his vest and shirt.

"I bloody well know," Sen snarled back. "Even I have enough piety not to think about laying you at this time. Your clothes, you oaf. I'll take them with me when we go back down. One less trip up and down the stairs, yes?"

Rhys cast down his gaze. "Sorry." He limped to the bed and struggled with his boots.

Sen joined him. "Let me help. What happened to your leg anyway?"

"Faedal," the young sorcerer grumbled. "He shattered my knee to keep me immobilized. Without Borna, I'd be in all kinds of misery."

The boots came off and Rhys got back to his feet, discarding his pants and loincloth. He fetched a new set of student's robes, underwear and towels from his wardrobe before going into the bathroom. He didn't bother to close the door.

Sen collected the dirty laundry and bunched it into a ball. "You've been gone quite a while. What else did happen?"

"Way too much for a quick recap. There are so many questions I need answered. What was Carver after? Why did Celeste go berserk?" He sighed. "That has to wait until the dust has settled somewhat. It's a wonder I'm still upright." The sound of splashing water drowned the rest of his muttering.

Sen exhaled slowly. "Your friend Celeste... she's been a handful. Always arguing with Elara, always complaining about Thurguz' doing nothing to help you. Never thought she'd lose her mind like that though. Faedal must have got to her real bad."

"You think it was Faedal still haunting her?" Rhys asked amidst more water splashes.

"Listen, Rhys. She and I... we didn't talk much." Sen was glad he couldn't see her blushing.

A few moments later, he was back. Fully dressed and with wet hair, Rhys left the room alongside Sen. "Where are we going?" he asked her.

"Thurguz insisted we meet in the Entrance Hall. I'll just drop off your laundry and join you."

"Go ahead. You don't have to wait for me. With my busted knee, the stairs will be no end of fun in the days ahead."

"I could never forgive myself if anything should happen to you," Sen said, smirking. "You should have Elara take a look at the leg."

"I've been with a very helpful cleric already. The way she sees it, she'd need to break my knee again to repair it. And that's some pain I can do without at the moment."

Eventually, they reached the Entrance Hall below. Hilgrun had been placed on a makeshift stretcher cobbled together from a tabletop and two long wooden poles, with the porter and cook carrying it. Her body had been cleansed, covered up with a white gown and the ghastly neck wound was hidden under a scarf. Beside her Rhys could see her favorite two-handed sword.

Astra'il was with Borna and Lishaka kept close to Chassari. After a quick dash into the laundry, Sen joined Yukio. Both maids walked silently to the end of the procession. Elara clung to Hagazz' arm, deathly pale and with her amazing emerald eyes set deep in their sockets. Before, she always had appeared ageless, untouched even by the horrific trauma Faedal had inflicted on her, but now she looked drained, tired, almost broken.

Thurguz stomped up the stairs from the cellars. "It is safe. Let's go." He clutched his wrist close to his body, wound tight with a shred of cloth.

"What happened to you?" Rhys asked, looking at the half-orc's mangled arm. The makeshift bandage already showed crimson stains.

"I made sure there will be no unpleasant surprises on our way to the crypt," the wizard grumbled.

"You have a crypt down there?"

"Among other things. I always swear to Idunn, my ancestors and any deity in earshot that I hope to never use it again. Life always finds a way to break my vows."

"What else is down there? Is it dangerous?"

"Only for those who go there without my permission," Thurguz grumbled. "Hush now." He signaled for the procession to descend the stairs. Slowly, like a badly coordinated caterpillar, the assembly fell into step and made their way down the stairs winding around the tower's inner circumference.

Astra'il spoke up "I know I'm a stranger in these halls but am I allowed to sing for the departed's soul?"

"I'd very much like that," Elara breathed. "Please, by all means."

"She's a kind one, that dark elf," Haloryth whispered into Rhys' ear. "You might want to keep her close."

"As if I could make her stay," Rhys muttered, carefully navigating the stairs. They seemed even older than the ones above, uneven from centuries of use. Astra'il hummed the first bars of a foreign melody, a strange mixture of haunting and uplifting notes. Elara fell in, her voice choked by tears. The next one to join was Haloryth, giving words to the eerie song. Once again, Rhys could understand them.

Lifegiver, cradle this soul

protect it from the void

gather it into your heart

and return it once it's whole

One by one, the others joined the song. Some, like Hagazz, sang the old elven words while Chassari and Lishaka only hummed the notes. Even Borna sang, her voice surprisingly clear and strong, a stark contrast to her usual growl. That's right, Rhys remembered. She can read Elven. Probably speak it too by now.

Thurguz and Idunn produced magical lights which slowly circled the singing congregation as they made their way into the cellars. The stairs went much deeper than Rhys had anticipated. It took them at least five revolutions until they reached another landing from which several doors led away. One, made from what looked like silver-coated metal etched with protective sigils stood out in particular. There was a fresh quarter-circle etched into the dust in front of it. Torches lined one wide corridor leading away into the darkness.

The song subsided as the students looked around.

"This is elven-made," Rhys realized with a start.

"Good eye," Haloryth whispered.

"The stone used is rather distinct," Rhys muttered, pointing at the greenish reflections the light threw off the walls. "As are the crystals up there. Like the Vasadil crypt." He shivered. Was it really just yesterday we were there? Feels so far away already.

Thurguz led the congregation down the torchlit passage, past several branching corridors.

"One could probably get lost in these tunnels," Galdor muttered. "But I'm curious what he's stashed away down here." He rubbed his hands. "Dwarven instincts, I guess."

"In here," Thurguz ordered, indicating an archway ahead. The room beyond was wide and imposing, a large vault held up by rows of straight, simple pillars. At the far end, two large braziers drove back the darkness. The light was not strong enough to clearly illuminate all of the crypt but, in the area of light offered by the brazier, Rhys could make out a number of sarcophagi, maybe a dozen. No idea how many are hidden in the shadows. Some of them seemed to be open. Another shiver ran down his back. They keep spare sarcophagi on hand in case someone dies?

Thurguz stopped the procession at an open one. The inside was lined with white cloth. It took both the burly cook and porter to navigate the tall barbarian into the sarcophagus. Thurguz placed the sword on Hilgrun's body, the hilt resting between her breasts. "Sleep now, fierce warrior. I will guide your hands to the hilt once the rigor mortis has dissipated," he muttered.

The half-orc straightened up and cleared his throat. "As master of this tower, it would fall to me to offer her any last rites. Since I failed in protecting Hilgrun from harm, I feel the least qualified to do so though. Who wants to speak in my stead? Elara?"

The elven druid shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line. Rhys guessed it took all of her willpower to keep more tears at bay. Thurguz' searching gaze passed over everyone in turn but none stepped forward.

Are all of you afraid to say your goodbyes? Ashamed? Did she mean so little to all of you? A small knot of anger gathered in Rhys' stomach.

As if she had read his thoughts, Haloryth's whisper reached his ears. "Admitting she's gone means admitting this isn't a bad dream. An unreasonable thought but grief isn't a reasonable emotion either."

I'm already sick and tired of death. Didn't enough good people lose their lives recently? Rhys sighed and slowly raised a hand. "May I?"

"By all means, lad." Thurguz made an inviting gesture. Rhys moved through the assembly until he stood at the head of the sarcophagus. His throat tightened as he beheld Hilgrun's pale, lifeless face. He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. At least you're at peace. I hope. The whole "divine intervention" idea Astra'il had hinted at before gnawed at his resolve. What if Desire did indeed snatch her? And Dara? Did I-...

Doubt and confusion threatened to sap the last bit of strength from him. Rhys gnashed his teeth. Look at you, fool. You're supposed to say something helpful and inspirational and here you are, almost pissing your pants. What would Hilgrun say if she saw you like this?

Haloryth drifted into his field of view, her face a beacon of encouragement.

The pit of terror in his guts didn't vanish entirely but he found enough resolve to start speaking. Or the curious glances the others shot him spurred him on. I don't care either way. This is for you, Warrior Princess, Rhys thought emphatically.

"I... I might not be the one best suited for speaking these last rites either," Rhys began, his voice small and quavery as he fought every word past a lump in his throat. "I mean... I'm no cleric and I probably knew Hilgrun the least out of all of us," he said, his voice growing stronger with every word. The ring on his index finger gleamed with the light of six miniature stars, drawing streamers with every gesture he made. "In the beginning, she seemed distant, hostile even. To her, I was just a mageling with nothing to show for my efforts. That all changed when I saved her life at the toll booth. She called me her battle brother and friend. At first I thought it was some barbarian ritual, like the ones the bards sing about. A hollow title as thanks for aid in battle. But far from it. She was by my side when I stormed off to find out what had happened to my village. She offered me solace when I grieved for my Gran and Dara."

Rhys fought to keep his voice steady as the memories came flooding back. "Heck, she was the one to adopt my little sister Mirrin immediately after she pulled her from beneath the floorboards of Gran's room. And during that dreary day, I learned something about Hilgrun. She wasn't big on hollow ceremonies. What mattered most was the well-being of her friends. I am happy that she deemed me worthy of that title. And I am heartbroken that there wasn't more time to get to know her better. To fight more battles by her side."

He paused and blushed. "I was about to challenge her," he added weakly. That drew a few chuckles.

"I can't believe she's gone," Rhys continued. "But I know what I will do next. I will raise a glass in her memory. And tomorrow, once I've had a chance to rest, I will leave no stone unturned to find out why Celeste attacked and killed her. I will bring Celeste to task, come whatever may. I owe Hilgrun that much."

There were soft murmurs of approval, some halting applause.

No reprimand for stepping out of line? Rhys wondered. Even Thurguz nodded his approval. This is no empty promise, no hollow ceremony. I'm probably not powerful or experienced enough to beat you yet, Celeste. But you owe me a few answers.

* * * *

The return trip from the crypt was uneventful. This time, there was no song since everyone nursed their own thoughts. Eventually, they stopped in the Common Room where toasts were spoken and thick Frostspire Mead was poured. After two trips up and down the tower, not to mention how many underground levels, Rhys' knee was throbbing painfully. He put down his cup and rose. The quiet conversations around him petered off.

"No, no, I'm not giving another eulogy," Rhys said, waving a hand in a warding gesture. "I think you all will have to excuse me. Raise another one for me, all right?" He clapped Borna's armor-plated shoulder.

"Are you sure you can make it to your room all right?" the demon princess asked quietly.

"Compared to our adventures, these few steps won't be much of a problem." He leaned in and breathed a kiss onto her cheek. "I do appreciate the sentiment though. Good night."

Her hand came up and clasped his, still resting on her shoulder. "You too. Don't overdo it, okay?" Her gaze avoided his.

He shook his head. "You misunderstand. I'd probably even throw Allura and all her naked priestesses out of my room should they show up. I'm too tired for sex."

"I'll ask Sen," Borna threatened. She squeezed his hand again before letting it go.

"Be my guest." He stopped at Lishaka and Chassari's couch. The serpent-woman was animatedly talking to Yukio in their shared language while Lishaka had curled up, halfway on Chassari's lap. She had fallen asleep already with a peaceful smile on her wide lips. Not wanting to disturb her, Rhys waved in Thurguz' general direction and left the Common Room. His room was only a few doors down the corridor but his steps took him further until he found the pile of cut stone behind which Hilgrun had been left to die. The balcony door was open and icy winds blew into the passage.

He stepped outside. By now it was way past sundown, the only light outside came from a canopy of stars and a majestic aurora seemingly spanning the mountain peaks. Elara leaned on the stone parapet, not minding the icy gales clawing at her thin coat and long hair. She looked utterly lost and forlorn, her cheeks dotted with frozen tears.

"I'll-" Rhys began, about to turn back inside.

"No, no, it's fine. I should probably come back inside before I freeze to death. That would be both poetic and senseless. I mean, I'd end up with the wrong Hilgrun anyway, right?" Her laughter was high and brittle. "Tell me about the Ice Queen, Rhys." She closed the distance and claimed his hand. Hers was clammy and shook noticeably.

"I know only what is written in the 'Tales Of Orran,'" Rhys said, pulling the shivering elf back into the relative warmth of the tower. "It is said she was a giantess, remarkably beautiful for one of the Tall Folk." While he closed the heavy balcony door, he added: "Beautiful enough to make Orran bed her."

Elara chuckled weakly. "Our scholars wrote that it didn't take much for Orran to drop his pants. He must have fucked half his kingdom and large parts of ours while on one of his quests."

"And as with all legends, the truth shall be somewhere between both extremes," Rhys said diplomatically.

Elara shook her head. "Our historians were very thorough. Don't forget, a thousand years for us is barely two generations. My grandfather was alive during Orran's time. There's a good chance someone in our family had their way with him."

They stopped at the door to Elara's room. Her face fell as she reached for the handle. What little levity had been there evaporated. She shouldn't be alone right now, Rhys realized.

"Would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?" he asked.

The disheveled elf raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that wise?"

Rhys offered a little smile. "I'm not asking if you want to... you know." He made a complicated gesture. "When my village was torched and those few people I cared about died, Hilgrun came to me and forced her idea of a funeral wake on me. I could either have my ass handed to me or submit to her."

"Yes?" Elara opened the door to her room. The aroma of fresh fir needles and herbs tickled his nose. "What did you do?"

"I was in no shape to fight her then and I haven't improved much since." He gingerly touched his knee. "So I resigned myself to my fate and let her console me." And I wonder where things might have ended if Sen hadn't barged in on us the next morning, he thought with a pang of guilt. I probably shouldn't think this right next to her grieving lover.

"I graciously accept your offer, dear friend," Elara said in Elven. "Come in."

I should ask Haloryth what else this ring does, Rhys thought. He quickly looked around but the former Guardian Spirit was nowhere to be seen. He followed Elara into her room.

"Welcome to my quarters," Elara said, bowing slightly. "May the boughs and leaves protect you as they do me."

Elara's chamber was markedly different from his own. First, there were actual, living trees making up the four corners of the room, with a strange tangle of limbs forming the walls. The door was almost invisible, knotted wood hidden underneath leaves and vines. The air was warm and fragrant, heavy with the scent of leaves, flowers and herbs while in one corner, a narrow gap between trunks led to what Rhys presumed was some spring, going by the sound of water over stone. Overhead, the sky mirrored the time of day, a velvety canopy with thousands of sparkling pinpricks. Fireflies and glowing orbs of magical light offered enough light to see by. A large nest, made from willows and other supple tree limbs and stuffed with colorful sheets, furs and pillows sat in the center of the floor. Thick aerial roots roots arched from the soil, solid enough to sit on. A tree stump served as a table, the even wooden surface cluttered with scrolls, crystals and other trinkets Rhys assumed were integral to the druidic arts.