Chapter 298: Enchantment and Dodging Questions

The bonfire crackled.

The expedition members were celebrating.

And the Fool watched.

Alex nursed his wine, sitting cross legged by the fire with Claygon standing nearby. Idly—out of affection and a need for support—he rubbed the golem’s leg, feeling the filigree against his palm. All around, quiet festivities were taking place.

Five bonfires roared near the front gates of the encampment with teams of expedition members surrounding them, sharing wine and laughter. Music drifted through the night air; folks had produced a set of pipes, a lyre, some drums and a sitar, joining together in a slow, improvised song.

Sometimes they were good.

Sometimes the notes were sour.

But the mood couldn’t be brought down by a few missed notes: victory was in some ways, more intoxicating than any wine. It brought people together. It broke down barriers. And Alex could see it playing out with his friends.

They were spread around the bonfire, broken up into little groups passing the night together.

Hogarth and Svenia—let off-duty by Isolde—were more relaxed than Alex had ever seen them. They’d lured a surprisingly large group into a card game called ‘Enchantment’.

“Two wastes for two, but Hale and Iron,” Hogarth laid down a set of five cards. “Makes the Journeycrafter of Iron Fortitude. What’ve you got, Svenia?”

The blonde woman’s frown deepened and she tossed her cards away like they were blood-drak blood. “Five wastes.”

“Hah, your luck’s always been shit,” he laughed. “What about you, big man?”

Prince Khalik grinned and laid out a hand. “Two wastes, Hale and Silver. Journeycrafter of Silver Fortitude, which thoroughly crushes your hand.”

Hogarth swore vilely. “Like you need more coin, never seen anyone spend like you. I hope you lose.”

“Fate smiles upon me,” Khalik chuckled. “Unless beginner’s luck carries the day, what do you have?”

He looked up at the towering Champion of Thameland.

Hart Redfletcher’s large eyes stared at his cards. He looked like a student who’d walked into the wrong exam. “Uh…I don’t know what the hell any of these mean.”

“Hah, I’ll help you, big man.” Tyris grinned, her golden tooth glinting in the firelight as she leaned toward the muscular Hero.

Hart looked back at her. “It looks like a bunch of nothing to me.”

“C’mon, show me. I’ll tell you if it’s nothing or not.”

He turned his cards toward her.

Her smile faded. “Yeah that’s a whole lot of nothing, alright.”

The Champion swore, tossing his cards on the table. “This game is dumb.”

“Aaaaah my friend,” Khalik smiled. “Only those who do not taste victory curse the game. You should not be so small minded! Now, who’s next? Tyris! Show us what the mighty master of Vesuvius has to offer?”

“Cold Iron, Dexterity—” she started.

Khalik’s grin widened at the redundant cards.

“—Tempest, Frost and Lightning!” Tyris cried, slamming the cards down in front of her. “Hah! Expert of the Sea Storm! Read ‘em and weep! The saltier the tears, the better!”

Khalik’s smile faded; snorting with disgust, he tossed his cards away. “This game is dumb.”

“You’re a hypocrite, Khalik, that’s why you lost,” Thundar snorted with glee.

“Laugh now.” The prince gave him a flinty look. “I will enjoy watching you fall. Reveal your cards.”

The minotaur’s grin was outright evil. He laid them down one by one: “Dexterity, Strength, Wisdom, Vitality aaaaaand—”

“No,” Khalik murmured.

“—Presence! Paragon of Mind, Body and Soul! Hahahaha!”

There was a round of cursing from everyone at the table, but one person hadn’t gone yet. Grimloch loomed above the rest, his cards tiny in his hands. Everyone turned to the sharkman expectantly.

In the stories, the one who went last always won.

“...Flame, Frost, Lightning and Stone,” the sharkman grunted. “Grandmaster of the War Elements. Still a losing hand.”

More groans rose up as the laughing minotaur dragged a large pile of coins from within the circle of players toward himself.

“Ugh,” Isolde grunted. “He will be unbearable for weeks, perhaps even years, ”

“Aye, same with Hart,” Cedric said. “Not a man that likes to lose, though I’d be lyin’ if I said I liked losin’. What about you?”

“Hm?” Isolde looked at the Chosen. “Pardon?”

“Er, that’s to say, how do you take it?”

“Take what? Losing?”

‘Not well,’ Alex wisely did not say out loud.

“I more meant that fancy card game,” the Chosen said.

“Oh, I do not care for gambling much,” she sniffed. “Risk is something to be managed, not to be used to cultivate a quick thrill.”

“Well, sometimes thrills’re what keeps life from becomin’ a whole big ball o’ grey. Take what we did today: that thrill o’ doin’ somethin’ brutally hard an’ dangerous, but real bloody righteous…that’s a kind o’ thrill that don’t come too often.”

“I…suppose not,” she said, sipping her wine and yawning.

She glanced over at Drestra and Theresa, who were talking about their experiences in the Thameish wilds with Alex jumping in now and then.

Cedric glanced over at Alex. Again. For much of the night the Chosen’s eyes had been watching him.

They’d followed him since the festivities had begun, and Alex was getting a little tired of it. He could feel the questions coming: the curiosity, the confusion, the interest all building up until it couldn’t be held back any longer. A glance at Cedric’s body language told of someone working himself up to ask an awkward question…and Alex just wanted it to be over with.

His earlier nervousness was burning away and becoming full on irritation as the night went on.

‘Come on, just get it over with,’ he thought. ‘Should I bring it up? No, don’t be too quick to volunteer, anything. It’s one thing if he brings whatever he’s got on his mind up, but if you offer up information yourself, that’ll just make you look more suspicious. Give him time and-’

“Oi, Alex,” Cedric suddenly spoke up, louder than expected.

‘And here it is,’ Alex thought. ‘Finally.’

The group all turned at the same time, looking at the Chosen.

“I was wonderin’…” He ran his fingers through his long red hair, eyes fully fixed on the Fool. “Y’ever been in a dungeon before?”

“This is the first one I’ve seen since we got here,” Alex said, telling half of the truth: he’d been prepared to say that for hours. He kept the conversation moving, not giving Cedric too much time to think. “Hell, it’s the first time I’ve seen so many Ravener-spawn. Are there usually that many in dungeons?”

“Aye, in chitterer dungeons, it’s always so. The blood things spawn like flies,” Cedric said. “But, y’haven’t had any experience raiding a dungeon like that before?’

“This was our first raid,” Alex shrugged, again answering the question without telling a lie. It was another truth that left out key details. The Mark helped him keep his face and body language in the perfect balance of curiosity and confusion. To sell it, he followed up with questions. “Why do you ask? Did we screw something up?”

A guess that would change the topic slightly, reveal some of Alex’s ignorance about Cedric’s questions, and not give the Chosen any new information to chew on. The less he had to work with, the less he might figure out.

“Oh, that? Naw,” Cedric said. “Y’all did well, o’ course. …s’just there was somethin’ strange about that dungeon core. It seemed real mad at ya. Never seen it focus on tryin’ ta tear someone apart like it did you. Not since our early days breakin’ cores.”

“You and Hart didn’t protect Merzhin and me,” Drestra said matter of factly. “And it targeted us while we were trying to work spellcraft or divinity.”

Cedric paused. “Aye…an’ we learned a lesson right quick,” he tried to laugh off what she’d said.

Drestra’s body language stiffened: there was no amusement in her gaze.

“Anyways, surprised it focused on ya like that, is all,” the Chosen said. “So it lef’ me ta wonderin’ if you’d ever gone inta a dungeon before…ya ever have that sorta thing happen before?”

“Yeah, it came after me pretty hard didn’t it?” Alex said. “I was actually thinking about that earlier, but the truth is, I’ve been kinda getting on the bad side of demons and monsters and all kinds of nasty shit, lately. Barely makes me blink anymore…I was thinking maybe it wanted me dead so Claygon would stop getting orders from me…I mean, since he uses his fire-beams and all.”

“Eh?” Cedric looked up at the golem. “This big fella stops moving if’n ya stop givin’ him commands?”

“Well, he’d kinda just keep trying to do the last thing I told him to do,” Alex said. “But I dunno…what do you think? You’re a hell of a lot more of an expert on dungeons than I am.”

There.

He’d thrown Cedric an opportunity. People were a lot more likely to believe things they’d thought of themselves than they were to buy excuses that others had given them.

Cedric blew his breath out. “I dunno…t’be honest, we know a helluva lot more about breakin’ ‘em and about what their monsters can do, than we do the ‘whys an’ hows’ of the little black balls.”

His brow furrowed.

‘Come on…’ Alex thought. ‘I laid out the trail…just follow it.’

“Y’know, y’were givin’ out yer commands pretty loud durin’ the fightin’, ” the Chosen said. “S’lot like when Drestra an’ Merzhin’re casting spells an’ prayin’. An’ that golem was causin’ a whole big fiery mess down there. Aye, you’re probably right there.”

‘Got him,’ Alex thought.

“Well, I’ll be more careful with that, I guess. Gonna have to be a lot more careful in general, anyway.” He glanced from the Chosen to the Sage, bringing her into the conversation and shifting focus a bit. “It’s gonna be a lot tougher raiding dungeons without you three with us.”

“Yeah,” Theresa said, picking up on what Alex had tossed out. “It’s too bad we won’t always have you in the vanguard.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said, her blue eyes falling on the symbol of the Chosen above Cedric’s heart. “Uldar has clearly granted you much power when it comes to destroying this menace. The legend of the Heroes of Thameland seemed to come to life before my eyes as you fought with us.”

‘Yes, that’s it, Isolde,’ Alex thought. ‘Pull his attention.’

“Oh, aye?” Cedric, his face flushed in the firelight as he faced her “Well, one jus’ tries their best, right?”

“I can see that,” Alex said, looking at Drestra next.

The Sage still had some of that earlier stiffness to her body language.

Alex’s eyes flicked down.

Her wine cup was nearly empty: her second of the night. Enough to make most folk relax. Meanwhile, Isolde was doing a great job at drawing the Chosen’s attention. The young man’s eyes watched her every move, Alex long forgotten.

Theresa followed Alex’s gaze. Her eyes flicked to Drestra’s wine cup. “Refill?” she asked. “I’m going to get another one.”

“Oh, uh, yes please,” the Sage said.

The huntress took both cups, then went to the barrels. She threw Alex a quick glance over her shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ he directed his thought at his girlfriend as he and the Sage turned to face each other.

The Chosen was occupied; the Fool and the Sage were alone. Now was the perfect time for a little push.

“Must be hard, Dresta,” he said, making sure to use her name. People tended to react better if someone used their name.

She actually seemed to jump when he used it. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“Oh, all this,” Alex said. “I don’t mean like…the celebration, I mean dealing with the Ravener. Listen, I think I nearly died ten times today and that was with a small army trying to smash that dungeon core to bits. I can’t imagine what it’s been like, doing this with just the four of you.”

“We have had some help,” Drestra said, her eyes turning away slightly. There was a catch in her voice.

“That’s good,” Alex said. “Some of the knights and priests…and some Thameish wizards, right? That must be comforting. Better than going in by yourself.”

He thought back to the earlier phase of the battle: Drestra had seemed pretty frustrated.

“Well…Uldar gives us the tools we need,” she said. “We…just have to use them as we can.”

“Yeah, it’s all about tools and allies,” Alex said. “I—”

There was a shift nearby.

Isolde and Cedric had stood up.

“I do believe I will get myself a little snack,” the young noblewoman said. “I will be back shortly.”

“Aye, an’ I was feelin’ a little peckish myself,” Cedric said. “You comin’, Drestra?”

There was something in his tone that subtly said, ‘please say no’.

The Sage paused. “No, I’m not really hungry. And…Theresa went to get us some more wine.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. A slight flash of relief crossed his face. “Be back, then.”

He and Isolde stepped out of the firelight, leaving Drestra and Alex alone.

There was a bit of a pause.

“You were saying something?” the Sage asked.

“Oh yeah, tools. Uldar gave you tools to fight the Ravener…but this is what this whole expedition is about to me. Making more tools. Tools for a permanent solution.”

The Sage’s reptilian eyes widened. “Permanent solution?

“You know: an end to all of this. All of it. No more dungeons. No more Ravener. None more any of it. No more cycles. If I have my way, none of this happens ever again: and we get a victory once and for all.”

The Sage’s veil drew against her face as she took in a long breath. “But I’m sure many have tried that for many cycles. What would you be willing to do? For this…permanent solution?”

“Honestly,” Alex said. “Almost anything.”

The Sage quickly looked around to see if anyone else was listening.

Then she leaned in.

The dam broke. “That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard anyone say since this madness began. And that’s what it is. Madness.”