12 (II)

Misconception

Shiv left the river behind. He filled some of his pouches with all the shrimp he killed, and also noted he still had some jerky. He could eat those on the way in a few hours.

The valley he walked ran long and had a slope to it. There were mushrooms of all colors growing everywhere, and Shiv collected some of them too, including some mendules. He noted the walls of the valley were veined with nightglass, and he caught glimpses of his own reflection. The man who stared back at him was ragged and wild-looking. His chef’s outfit was hanging from his body in tatters, revealing a physique that put even his considerable build from a day ago to shame. He was about as muscular as Adam Arrow now, if he were to compare it to anything.

“I would need chems and potions to achieve this as a Pathless,” he muttered.

“Admiring your own Physicality?” Valor asked.

“Yeah. Everything comes easier to the Pathbearers, doesn’t it?”

“At first. And then everything eventually gets so much harder that most never see it done.”

“See what done?”

“Their Path. They don’t keep walking it. They get tired and worn down and just settle. And then, eventually, something happens to them, and so they pass from the world without knowing who they might have become.”

Something in the dagger’s words ignited a new fear in Shiv. He wanted to see who he would eventually become. “Yeah. That won’t be me. I’ll either have to be cut down on the way, or I’ll make it to the top.”

“Everyone says that at the start. We will see if your determination remains in a hundred years.”

That was a long time. Shiv wondered if he would be well past Master by then. No. I’m going to go even further. And not nearly take that long. However strong Roland Arrow was right now, Shiv wanted to be stronger by a magnitude. And someday—maybe even someday soon—he was going to do something Roland couldn’t, and then he was going to rub it in the man’s face.

And this desire crystallized itself inside Shiv. He pushed on harder, with the wind washing over his back and the compass pointing forward. Whatever new dangers lurked beyond his sight, whatever challenges, he would embrace them. He would die facing them. He would rise again and again to prove himself more than worthy. Until they were challenges to him no longer, and then he would move on to the next mountain to climb.

With this, Shiv’s journey settled into a routine. Over the course of the next few days, he ventured downward, emerging from the valley to find himself in a dense marsh. With Valor’s help, he managed to avoid the worst of the sizzleblooms that sprayed acid at those who came too close. Shiv was curious if the acid could still melt through him, but he decided not to risk his equipment. The spear still had more than a little life left in it.

Crossing through the marsh, Shiv was almost ambushed by a strange monkey-looking creature that had lashing tendrils where its head should have been. After disabling it with his Biomancy, he inspected its body with clinical focus—and sought out Valor’s guidance to help him learn what he could. He almost managed to close the wounds he made on the strange monkey too—but as with his previous attempts, things ended with cancer.

The shrimp tasted rather good with some of the new mushrooms he got, too. That was another highlight.

Cooking > 21

By what felt like the third day, Shiv encountered a large group of lesser vampires clawing through an area thick with bioluminescent bushes. He sensed them with his Biomancy, but they remained unaware of him. What followed was another kind of training—the sort he did over the past three years when he was trying to earn a Path the hard way. Shiv stalked the lesser vampires through the foliage, hunting them with his spear and new daggers. With his expanding mana field, he kept track of exactly where they were—and also was prepared to kill them with it at any moment.

Ultimately, that wasn’t necessary. His increased awareness of their movement patterns did help him advance his stealth as he slew them though, and quite substantially as well.

Stealth > 21

Knife Proficiency > 19

Spear Proficiency > 4

“And those were all lesser vampires, you say?” Valor asked as Shiv cleaned the tip of his spear. At his feet lay the last lesser vampire, heart pierced precisely from behind. Another benefit of Biomancy—it let him track exactly where his enemies’ organs were.

“Yeah,” Shiv said, grinning slightly at all the monsters he just killed. Not so dangerous for me to face anymore. At all. I don’t even need fire for you felling bastards. Just my hands. That was a good feeling: becoming so powerful that old obstacles ceased to be obstacles. He wanted to feel the same way about high vampires someday. “There’s a lot of them here.”

“Quite unusual for them to come this deep. We must be fast approaching Weave, and this place is guarded by the Arachnae Order. Any high vampire operating in the area risks capture—and what the Umbrals do to those of the First Blood is quite vicious.”

“Does it got something to do with breeding?”

“How did you know?”

“Something Nomos threatened me with when I spoke to her.”

“Oh. She does that with everyone. It was a habit of hers.”

“I just don’t know why that’s a bad thing.”

Valor paused. “Shiv, it’s not about someone breeding with you—it’s about you being made a receptacle for breeding. You become a carrier for weaver eggs.”

Shiv stopped cleaning his knife. “They… they put the eggs in me? The spiders?”

“Yes. Their young need to incubate in a person’s flesh. Well, not necessarily a person, but something intelligent. If you just put them in an animal, they cannot consume the organs needed for a full intellect and become feral.”

“Oh. Broken Moon, that’s gross.”

“Broken Moon indeed. Wait, Shiv, did you meet a surfacer at some point? That’s a very Yellowstone Republic-centric curse.”

Ah, shit. “Yeah. Uh, funny story there: a surfacer is the reason I’m down here. I kind of got thrown.”

“A surfacer cast you down into the Umbral Depths. Well, that’s… New Albion must be getting sloppy for their agents to be so brazen down here.”

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Shiv took a chance and pressed for more information. “I don’t think it’s them. The surfacer said something about an attack—something to do with the Necrotech Legions invading the surface again.” A long silence followed. Shiv could hear his heart pump—could feel it in vivid detail. “Valor?

“That can’t be… They’re not ready. The last war—their treaty with the Auroral Council still stands. Why would they break it now?”

“I think he wasn’t lying. I—I saw that giant serpent—Vicar Sullain—rise up toward the chasm myself. There were others following him.”

Valor’s tone turned severe. “This isn’t good, Shiv. This isn’t good at all. We must make haste and seek the Composer. She needs to know about this—and inform the rest of the Necrotechs. They will likely not be happy that one of their excommunicated priests is about to start another miserable war in the name of the Great One.”

Shiv’s mind was reeling. Excommunicated priest? “The vicar isn’t a member of the legions?”

“No. He hasn’t been since he tried breaking the peace treaty between the legions and the Auroral Council.”

“There’s a peace treaty? Between the Republic and the Necrotechs? What, but—”

“I—yes, all the Five Faiths signed it with the surfacer representatives in attendance. This was—Shiv. Be honest with me, where do you hail from?”

The Deathless went quiet as he cursed himself for letting too much slip. There was just too much that was surprising to him. All his life, he knew the Abyss as a place where the monsters were spawned from, where the legions hid, with their armies preparing to butcher and enslave those on the land. There were tales of Slayers getting lost in the dark and facing indescribable horrors. He was supposed to be in a realm of absolute nightmares, but… it really wasn’t.

It was incredibly lethal and harsh, but it was more like venturing through an extremely hostile wilderness rather than a land meant to break the human spirit.

“Shiv. I am not affiliated with any of the Five Faiths. You are not in danger, I do not judge you. But I want to know—”

“Blackedge,” Shiv muttered. The lie was broken. He couldn’t keep it up anymore. No sense in trying. Time to rip the knife out and see the damage.

“Blackedge? Of the Yellowstone Republic?” Valor paused for a beat. “The one ruled by Roland Arrow.”

“Yeah. That one. I’m… The Umbrals weren’t very happy to see me, and well, all I know about the Abyss is that there are monsters down here. Or there were supposed to be just monsters. I don’t know anything about the Five Faiths or all this other stuff. I thought it was just the Necrotechs and their armies of undead slaves.”

“First off—and this is a word of grave caution—never call a Risen ‘undead.’ That is a slur, and it will end with you dueling someone.”

“It is?”

“Second, they treat slavers worse than the Composer does. The Necrotech Legions are firm adherents to the Eternal Gospel of the Great One. To forcibly bind any being capable of thought is a grave sin that will see you slated for rehabilitation.”

“But… the un—the Risen… How does that—”

“Becoming Risen is a thing of great honor. It represents someone growing to a place of honor and maturity, and that they are ready to ascend beyond being just a creature of the body; to embrace higher rationality.”

“They’re like… skeletons,” Shiv muttered.

“No. That is a constructed form, and it is not always in the shape of a skeleton. The ritual of the Dichotomously-Linked Soul is something only a seasoned Master has any hope of attempting, and it will bind parts of you into a prepared construct. After that, you can exist in multiple places and multiple forms at the same time. The reason why most Risen are skeletons is symbolic and religious: It is meant to be a statement of defiance against death.”

“Death?” Shiv blinked.

“Yes. The Great Enemy. The darkness that awaits.”

“I… You sound really passionate about them.”

“Because they used to be my people, Shiv. In my heart, they still are, even if most of them have lost their way. We could have—it is important for you to understand, right now, that everything you have learned is a lie. Everything you think you know and that the Republic has told you is a half-truth at best and propaganda regardless.”

“I was starting to feel that way when the high vampire started talking to me,” Shiv mused to himself. He grimaced. “Listen. I’m sorry I lied—”

“No. It was wise. You couldn’t trust me. I cannot blame you for this action. Especially when there are so many here that would likely try and kill you. And not even through any fault of your own. Any surfacer found here is usually thought of as an agent of New Albion because of their penchant for inducing civil wars and regime change.”

“They… do that.”

“Yes. The Stolen Throne is ruled by an absolute wretch of a woman, and I pray that one day I will get to drive my dagger through her heart for good, instead of just murdering another double.”

Shiv’s head was starting to swell. First he learned that everything he knew was probably a lie, and now there was all this about New Albion. From what little he heard about New Albion on the surface, they seemed to just be some kind of merchant empire that was beneath Yellowstone’s notice.

“Valor. I think I’m going to need to take an early break today.”

“I do not blame you. Find a safe place to rest. There’s a lot I need to explain to you, and not nearly enough time for you to learn everything. You are in graver danger than you might think.”

“I’ve been—” Shiv caught himself before he could give away his final secret—about his Path. “Attacked several times. I’m pretty aware of how much danger I’m in.”

“No. No, you are not. If you have witnessed the vicar attacking Blackedge, and that there is a battle joined, then your presence before the Composer is of equal importance as mine. And if anyone among Sullain’s faction knows you are still alive, they will stop at nothing to cut you down before you can get there.”

For some reason, Shiv thought about the raven-helmed stranger. He was likely the only one aside from Adam Arrow and Georges who knew of Shiv’s abilities right now. And he didn’t seem like he was from the Abyss… Something about him—his mannerisms—was just… It didn’t fit.

Shiv groaned. “Taint me. I—”

The world trembled. The sound of a massive explosion boomed in the distance as a gust of heavy wind rustled the surrounding vegetation. Shiv paused as the tremoring continued, and a faint light spilled through the cannopy, dappling shadows over him like the rays of a rising sun.

“Shiv? What’s happening out there? I heard a blast.”

“Yeah,” Shiv swallowed. “Me too. I think—”

Then the real blastwave hit him. The weight of a mountain smashed into his body at the speed of a tsunami, and the air itself combusted. Shiv felt his body dissolve into ash in an instant, along with most of his equipment. Only his kitchen knife and Valor’s stone dagger endured, and the former was rapidly turning white-hot.

Shiv had no words for what he just experienced. That explosion was absolutely apocalyptic and came out of nowhere. There was nothing he could have done to anticipate or survive that. Faintly, he could hear Valor shouting his name as he looked around. The lesser vampires were gone. The vegetation was gone. The ground itself was turning into glass. Then suddenly, the flames inverted, rushing back across the land to a single point at the edge of the horizon.

There, high in the air, hovered an enormous beast. Shiv thought it was the size of a small mountain, and it extended four stone-colored wings as an impossible amount of fire converged into a single sphere that drew in all light hovering above its outstretched, clawed hand. Its neck was long, and its features were lizard-like. Most fascinating of all were its eyes—they gleamed like massive gems in the dark. After a while, as the darkness faded, Shiv realized the dragon might actually be wearing a dense layer of rock as armor, and draped over their shoulder was a wicked greataxe that seemed to be made from bone.

Is that… a high dragon? It kind of looks like one from the bestiary.

With powerful wing beats, it hovered before a wound it made within a mountain. There, Shiv saw a large, pulsating doorway that resembled a gap left on the surface of reality, composed of spiderwebs.

“Composer! Come out! My name was Sir-Legend Marikos Valdemar of the Descenders Union! I have shamed my Order. I have disgraced my creed. I have killed the innocent. And now I strike a doorway to your sacred home. Come out! Come out and strike me down! Come out and end my shame! Come out! Give me a death I don’t deserve. Come out! Come out!”

And then, impossibly, the massive dragon began to sob.

Shiv looked on, barely noticing how he was getting colder or how Valor was crying out for him. But he did notice one other thing: His Skill Evolution had finally arrived—and it came with another skill besides.

Skill Evolution: Toughness (Initiate) > Diamond Shell (Adept)

Diamond Shell > 53

New Skill Gained: Foreshadowing 1 (Adept)

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