Chapter 226

Chapter 226: Drink What They Bleed

Riding the strange construct conjured by Magister Vera was a wholly different experience than, say, riding aback a wyvern. There, one had a visual cue—something to step upon and hold onto as it soared across the sky, even if it was a flimsy saddle and a scaly reptile. There was no such comfort from Vera’s spell, [Horizon Hunter], an A-rank wind spell solely designed for swift transportation of many people.

Argrave was suspended by thick, fierce winds as he hurtled across the vast plains. Hegazar’s illusion magic concealed their advance. The spell he used, the A-rank [Pocket of Nothing], hid much from their sight. Under its effects, it was difficult to distinguish Argrave’s fingers not two inches from his face.

Fortunately, the sense of touch was not disturbed—Argrave held on to Anneliese like she was an anchor to this dimension, much the same as she did to him. He clung on to the idea that Durran and Galamon might be doing the same thing, warding his fears away with humor.

They passed by Margrave Reinhardt’s great host and the warbands of Vasquer scattered around the Tower of the Gray Owl. Countless cities, villages, and castles that constituted a kingdom passed below them like nothing more than the road beneath a car. Everything in this world seemed so monumental on foot, near insurmountable… yet they passed it all second by second like it was nothing.

Once the wonder set in, the fear was a little less intense. Being able to do something like this… Argrave could see why the two Magisters were like they were: arrogant, self-centered. Seeing this, one thought dominated him. He wanted to replicate this. He wanted to do all of this and more. This was fun. It made him feel alive. It overshadowed some of the constant bleakness that had settled into Argrave like some parasite.

“Best keep your eyes open,” Hegazar’s voice cut in. Despite the tremendous speed at which they moved, no wind disturbed them, and all sounds carried as they might in a simple, stationary room. “You have to tell us where to disembark. Would hate to crash right into that little Dragon Palace your father makes his home. Would certainly make an awkward conversation. As much as I love to intrude on family drama, that fight might be a bit… large-scale.”

The overworld map of ‘Heroes of Berendar’ was drilled so deeply into Argrave’s head that he could place where they were in seconds. The landmarks were many and varied.

“Half an hour more, by my estimates,” Argrave returned in a too-loud shout. “It’s not the most visible thing, so we might have to search a bit. I know the path,” he assured.

If Hegazar was contented by this response, no answer came. Meanwhile, Argrave was grappling with a newfound worry brought about by Ingo’s comment.

Enemies near Elenore? Argrave thought, holding Anneliese a bit tighter. If she dies… if Elenore is gone… good lord, nearly everything falls apart. Her finances, her information, and just her damn ingenuity; if that’s lost, I’m not sure things can be salvaged.

Above it all… Argrave thought Elenore deserved better than what she had. Not all of the Vasquers got good hands dealt to them in life, but hers had to be the worst.

Shaking his head in dismay, Argrave reflected that now was no time to think of such a thing. An absent mind might let the viper find an opening—with two at his side, he couldn’t afford to think of this.

#####

“I do wonder why the Order of the Rose, with their great skill at working the earth into fortresses, might make a prominent base of theirs in a forest,” Hegazar’s ever-cynical voice cut into Argrave’s ears. “You might picture a hill… or a mountain… but who am I to wonder?”

“Wonder silently,” Vera commanded him. “You’re distracting Argrave.”

Argrave walked forward undistracted despite their constant hostile banter. It astounded him how these people could be so unfailingly pessimistic. Magister Hegazar’s presence was like a dark cloud. They travelled along a river—if anything would be consistent from ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ it would be a river. It was also much easier to remember.

After a long while of Argrave leading while immersed in self-doubt, the river finally proved itself as an able guide. He spotted a large, too-round rock, and hastened his steps.

“We’re here,” Argrave announced while disguising his relief.

As they walked, the trees thinned somewhat, and the midday light rained down upon a roughly square stone just before the much larger, rounder one Argrave had seen earlier. The large gray rock was perfectly round, and smooth as a rock found within a creek.

“Neat landmark,” Hegazar stepped closer, his true body keeping a cautious distance as though there might be a trap ahead. “Nice, smooth rock. Unless there’s a little door with a keyhole I’m missing, or an illusion that can somehow fool the eyes of both myself and the spider-woman… I’m lost.”

Argrave walked up to the rough-hewn rock before the large stone. His hand hovered near it, but he shied away as though it were something disgusting. “Galamon… has to go hunt an elk, now. That’s the key for this thing.”

Galamon nodded, setting down his backpack and stringing his bow in short order. “At once,” he accepted, and already marched off towards a location as though his target was already in sight.

Everyone spread out, examining the area as though looking for the secret hidden in this place. Argrave had only told Anneliese the full details of this place, and she kept her distance from the small rock just as he did. Her eyes wandered the larger rock, as though looking for imperfections, but she kept her mouth shut.

“Mmm… ornate rituals, a blood sacrifice? Quite the entrance,” Hegazar remarked, stepping to the rock Argrave stood before. His illusory body sat atop it, lounging. “Or maybe you just wanted a nice venison picnic, bathe in the sun with your little sweetheart and two Magisters. Well, one and a half…”

Vera stepped up before Argrave, crossing her arms and rolling up the sleeves of her gray robes. “You’re keeping an awful lot to yourself, Argrave.”

“The Kinslayer can’t trust you,” Hegazar remarked with a grin. “In his family, I’m sure he’s had enough experience with deceit, distrust… and you fit those to a T, little spider.”

Durran strode past Argrave, contributing, “He always does this. He keeps everything to himself. Likes to look mysterious, I’m sure.”

Though Durran nearly sat on the stone a little way away from Hegazar, Argrave stopped him subtly. The former tribal got the hint and stood just beside Argrave.

“Whatever the reasons might be, I’ll be able to protect you best if I know what I’m going to be facing,” Vera said sweetly.

Even Hegazar did not protest to Vera’s claim, despite her exclusion of him in this scenario of ‘protection.’ Evidently he valued what Argrave would say—he needed to know as much as Vera did.

“It’s difficult to describe what we’ll be facing, considering I don’t know,” Argrave said, acting ignorant. These people didn’t know the extent of his knowledge, and so it was a convenient excuse. When the expressions on the Magister’s face grew discontented, Argrave quickly added, “Perhaps it’d be best if I described what this place was.”

“Go ahead,” Vera encouraged.

“Well…” Argrave looked off to the side, framing his thoughts. “The Order of the Rose is just like the Order of the Owl in that much of their influence derives from having extensive knowledge about magic of the higher ranks,” Argrave explained. “Unlike the Owl, though, Rose didn’t congregate their knowledge in one high-security place, like the Tower. Their library in the Low Way was the closest thing, but even it can’t compare in the slightest. Instead, they had various strongholds spread out in many, many different places.”

Argrave paced around as he explained, “Defending them, obviously, became an issue as their stores of knowledge grew larger and larger. This place… it only really has one guardian. An arbiter of everything within the… fortress,” Argrave said the word delicately, like it was somehow wrong.

“One foe? Of what strength?” Hegazar interrogated, his sardonic tone gone to get the information he needed.

“Ideally, zero,” Argrave explained. “The issue isn’t him. It’s that he can destroy what’s within—books, artifacts, et cetera. As such… I’ll relay deliberate instructions when the time comes. I can end him quickly.”

Hegazar crossed his arms. When he spoke, his usual wry tone was replaced with a slow and deliberate monotone, like it was a carefully enunciated warning. “When the time comes, eh? I don’t like uncertainties, Argrave. Makes me think I’m being led on,” Hegazar’s husky, deep voice lowered into a near whisper.

Argrave took a deep breath. “We have the luxury to take the time we need. What I’ll tell you is precise—it needs to be—”

Galamon returned at that moment, hauling the corpse of an elk over his shoulder with ease. A single arrow stuck out of its eye, clearly piercing the brain.

“My, what a capable huntsman,” Hegazar commented, his wryness returned as though it had never left. “Now, what to do? I don’t see an elk-sized keyhole about anywhere.”

The elven vampire stepped up to where Hegazar’s illusory form sat, splaying the elf’s body across it. He made the giant creature look weightless. At once, he drew the Giantkillers at his belt, lifted its leg up, and pierced deep. The daggers ran through its stomach effortlessly, displaying their sharpness.

Viscera spilled out all across the stone. Once that was done, Galamon stepped away, cleaning his dagger. Hegazar’s eyes lingered on the Giantkillers—evidently he recognized that the two blue daggers were not ordinary.

A great rumbling originating from the ground killed the Magister’s curiosity in its infancy. The smooth, round rock behind them began to move, upending great mounds of earth in this process. It twisted aside, like a shell slowly exposing itself to the air. Gradually, a mass of red flesh made itself visible—once it stopped, a gigantic face that looked flayed stared them down, chin half-buried and tongue of stone dug deep into the earth.

“Goods gods…!” Hegazar raised his hand, ready to cast spells.

“Don’t attack it, not unless you want to lose all the treasures I promised,” Argrave cautioned at once.

The gigantic face’s stony tongue moved… and the stone that Hegazar had been sitting atop writhed, coming to life. It moved forward a bit, then rose up out of the earth, wrapping around the elk’s body. Then, the face’s tongue retracted back, curling towards its mouth. It received the elk, leaving nothing but upturned earth in its wake. Once it had eaten the elk, the tongue returned. It settled into the earth before them, leaving a path of stone like a road into its mouth. The face’s gaping maw stayed open wide, its black and gold eyes watching them.

Anneliese stared at the giant creature, shaken, and Argrave comforted her by grabbing her hand. Durran looked a bit nauseous—he poked at its stony tongue with his boot cautiously. Galamon already busied himself, putting his gear back on to prepare for the expedition.

“Shall we?” gestured Argrave, stepping atop its tongue. Anneliese followed him, linked by the hand. Hegazar and Vera watched the both of them as they walked forward.

“You must be excited to explore the inside of a flayed giant, Vera. Why not go first?” Hegazar urged her.

With Durran and Galamon joining, the whole band had formed. Neither of the Magisters seemed overeager to follow… but seeing Argrave’s certainty, they did. Argrave and Anneliese made it to the beginning of the face’s mouth, where its eyes watched them dispassionately even still… and looked beyond, where a set of stone stairs awaited.

“This is someone’s dream,” Argrave mused.

“What?” Anneliese looked to him.

“You don’t want to know,” Argrave shook his head, then stepped beneath the pearl white teeth of the giant and into the stony corridors of its mouth.