8. Pride And Prejudice
Pride And Prejudice
Earlier…
“ Y ou think this is over? You think you’ve defeated me and saved the Adamantine Empire?” Ikkut Grieffinger the Ghoul gasped as black blood frothed on her rotten lips. Her clawed right hand pressed against a hideous gash in her side. More blood pooled around her fallen form. But despite the nearness of her demise, she was smiling and let out a cackling laugh. “You fools! He is coming! The Night King Xelroth Vex is coming!”
Just the name caused the shadows to grow darker. Silence fell over the battlefield as if even the dead were waiting to see if pronouncing his name would make the dread Kindreth king appear. Would glowing ruby-colored eyes flash in the darkest reaches of the cavern? Would hair like a waterfall of silver silk swirl in the cold wind? Would skin pale as the Moon give him a ghostly radiance? And would the familiar taste of ozone fill the air from the massive amounts of magic that swirled around him like a cloak of stars?
None who stood before the Night King had lived to tell the tale.
Would the same be true of these heroes?
Finley tapped his pen against the journal where he’d written those words and sighed. The scene would go something like that. Of course, his players would–unwittingly, for the most part–derail his carefully detailed plans. For example, they’d likely cut off Ikkut’s head before she could say a word let alone the speech he’d written.. He’d need a backup plan, which would allow the ghoul to still speak even with a severed head.
But what if they crushed her skull under a boot? That would put a kibosh on the talking thing from her body in any case. He would need a backup plan for the backup plan. Maybe Vex could summon her ghost to speak. Yeah, that sounded good. That would mean a direct connection between Vex and Ikkut. The assumption would be that the Night King had been watching the heroes’ progress and measuring their worthiness to be his foes before he made his grand entrance.
But would this whole death scene be dramatic enough?
And would it really capture the full dread of Xelroth Vex?
It was hard, in general, to synthesize lore into a moment, to introduce a character of such importance and get across everything one wanted to in a few lines. But go on too long and it would not work either. But there was simply so much to Vex. The Night King had started as a hero after all. The fact that he ultimately became a dark god… Well, that just made him all the more interesting to Finley and an excellent antagonist. More Darth Vader than Darth Sidious. An arc. A tragic past. The possibility of redemption? Hmmm, he’d have to think about this.
It was his need to find out more about Vex that had spurred Finley to go to the Guardian’s Athenaeum–or the library in human parlance–even though he’d had to get Glass Scholar Neldor Loravye’s permission to look at any of the books. He and Neldor had a history .
I told him what I saw through one of the rifts and he pitied me. A scared human who claimed to have glimpsed the fabled Kindreth city of Illithor. His sad little smile as he said I was mistaken said it all. Yeah, real history there between us.
The irritating thing was that Finley admired Neldor. He’d used the Glass Scholar’s many works as the basis for most of his research for his games. Neldor’s clear, concise language made history accessible. Finley had gotten lost in his Mysteries of the Forgotten Realms , an 1000-page tome that he literally could not put down even when the sheer weight of it had cut off circulation to his thighs . But there was no mutual respect. And he’d feared what Neldor would say when he asked to check out books regarding the Night King.
“Finley, the library is for everyone ,” Gemma had pointed out as she’d tugged on his arm to lead him towards the front desk where Neldor actually sat.
The Sun Elf was the head of the Academy, but it had been last summer when Finley had made to brave the library, and the Academy was on break. Evidently, though he was the most important person in Aravae scholarship, Neldor did not think it beneath himself to man the front desk. Which was yet another reason that Finley admired him. Neldor didn’t behave as if any act involving scholarship was too insignificant.
“Maybe if we just wait until someone else takes over for the Glass Scholar, that would be a better idea,” Finley had responded and had prepared to exit the soaring golden-domed entryway to the Guardian’s Athenaeum before Neldor noticed them.
But, despite being just twelve-years-old at the time, Gemma held him firmly where he was. “Nope. That could be hours from now. Or never. He could be here until the library shuts for the night.”
“I’ll come tomorrow–”
“And lose a whole twenty-four hours? I think not! You have a game to prepare for!” Gemma gave him a hard stare that was eerily reminiscent of the one her mother, Shonda, gave politicians who stood in her way. They all quailed before her and Finley was man enough to admit that he was quailing before her preteen daughter.
“If only we still had the internet, right? You would think the Aravae would agree having information easily accessible by anyone would be a plus,” Finley said.
He still missed the weight of his iPhone in his pocket, the smooth slide of his finger over the silky glass, and the thought that nearly every single bit of human knowledge was accessible from the palm of his hand. But no more. The internet, like everything else of the modern human world, was gone.
“Sandy told me that the Separatists are working on something. An intranet , if nothing else. Something that they can all access locally,” Gemma said with a shrug.
“Really?” He blinked. “Wait, do Michael and Shonda know about that?”
Gemma rolled her eyes at him. Hard. “If Sandy knows then yes, our parents know.”
“Yeah, I phrased that badly. I mean do they think it’s going to work?”
“I’m sure they’re both keeping an eye on it. But probably not,” she admitted. “Just keeping the lights on for a few hours takes most of the Separatist’s resources so I doubt it will work long term.”
“You aren’t thinking of sneaking into Hope again?” he asked.
“Me?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I believe it was you who wanted cotton candy the last time we went.”
“Yeah, they have the pink kind. Hard as a rock. Stale as can be. But still so good,” he sighed with remembered pleasure.
“Don’t think that talk of cotton candy is going to get me off track, Finley.” Her hands were on her hips now, which, despite her slender frame, made her seem even more formidable. “You’re going to speak to the Glass Scholar. Now march!”
“But he doesn’t like me!” Finley flapped his arms.
Gemma blinked at him. “Does that matter? Surely, he won’t bar you from looking at some books simply because he doesn’t like you. Though why wouldn’t he like you?”
“That’s… well, complicated. But the thing is that I can’t afford to have him dislike me more. He is the man who stands between me and entry to the Academy!” he protested. “So better to wait for another guardian of the gates.”
She tilted her dark-haired head to the side–her hair was in a gorgeous set of braids that swirled over her skull–and said, “If he doesn’t like you now , how are you going to get into the Academy without winning him over before the admissions test? Isn’t this as good a time as any to start a friendship with him?”
He swallowed, but his salivary glands were giving him remarkably little to work with. “If I pass the test–”
“You will pass the test. That’s a given.” She nodded firmly.
A small smile graced his lips. “Ah, yeah, well, it’s not a sure thing, but I appreciate the support!”
“It is a sure thing, because it’s you , Finley. You could pass it today, but you’re taking a whole other year to study.”
He frisked happily. Her confidence in him made it seem all the more possible that he could pass the test. And he needed all the confidence he could get. No human had even tried to take the test. After all, what was the point? Humans didn’t have magic so why apply to an academy of magic? But he knew better. Declan proved humanity had depths that no one else had even guessed. And Finley would prove it!
“Yes, well, I want to make sure I pass the first time. So there will be no question that I belong at the Academy,” he explained.
Gemma’s right eyebrow lifted. Another trait she shared with her mother. That eyebrow lift spoke volumes, but she only said, “Really?”
“Yes! It’s not like I’m avoiding taking the test because I’m afraid of–of–of what will happen next!”
Gemma’s right eyebrow remained lifted.
He sputtered on, “I still need to refine my understanding of Katyr. There are so many terms that are just related to magic use that I haven’t had a chance to learn their intricacies yet.”
“Uhuh.” She pinched the top of her nose. “I’m going to, at least, pretend that I believe you. But you better act like it's true then.”
“I am… aren’t I?”
“Well, if you’re so concerned about knowing the intricacies of magical language then what better place than the Athenaeum is there to obtain such knowledge? The local library didn’t hold all the info you needed on Vex so I’m guessing it can’t possibly hold all the information on magic,” she pointed out.
He blinked at her, cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, and blinked again. Finally, he said, “Touche.”
“That’s what I thought.” She shook her head. “Finley, I understand that getting into the Academy is your dream and I also understand wanting a little more time to prepare for that, but the game is happening now. You need to set up Vex’s backstory so that when you end this D&D campaign, you can slot him right in. This can’t wait. You have paying customers.”
That was true. Very, very true. And if he got Vex wrong … Well, even if his players wouldn’t know, he would and his pride demanded accuracy. His eyes slid to the biggest obstacle in his way: Glass Scholar Neldor Loravye.
The man was beautiful as all Sun Elves were, though his nose might have been a little too narrow and his forehead too high and his ears too pointy to rank him amongst the most stunning beauties of the Aravae world, but his mind–his mind!--was the most beautiful thing in Finley’s estimation. All that knowledge packed inside! And if they were friends–or better yet, mentor and mentee–they could have long conversations about the contents of that lovely skull. Finley sighed.
“The thing is that the test is an objective piece of evidence that I’m worth his time and not some hysterical, addle-minded human who imagines he sees dark towers through rifts,” Finley finally explained.
“You mean when you saw Illithor through the rift?” He nodded. Gemma’s dark brown eyes went distant for a moment. “I wish I could remember that day.”
“No, no, you don’t,” Finley said firmly.
He truly wished he could forget the day the Leviathan came. Not Declan’s heroism, of course. But the deaths. So much death and darkness and feeling helpless to do anything about it. All he’d been able to do was shout to Declan when a Leviathan slithered up behind him. He wasn’t even sure if Declan had needed his warnings. The thing was that his best friend had been alone in that fight to keep them safe.
Even now, he didn’t dare go outside the dome though he often saw Declan staring off into the distance on particularly starry nights and he worried that Declan was only staying in the safety of Tyrael for him . The truth was that he wanted to be Declan’s equal . Well, okay, maybe not his equal. But someone who could hold his own, that Declan wouldn’t have to worry so much about, and for him to even be able to help keep Declan safe for once.
Her eyes focused on him. “I do . I want to know how Declan–”
“Shhhhh.” He held up a hand to silence her and his eyes skittered towards Neldor.
The Glass Scholar was still looking down at an illustrated manuscript. Blond head bowed. Long fingers turning the pages. Seemingly, completely oblivious to the two humans hanging about by the front doors. Several Sun Elf scholars in their high-necked Mage robes had streamed past Neldor and entered the library since he and Gemma had arrived. All had bowed low to Neldor who had smiled at them and inclined his head in greeting.
Ah, to have the Glass Scholar respond to him in that way! Or, better yet, to gesture for Finley to join him in looking at what he was reading so that they might discuss the book’s contents. Maybe Finley would have some insights that the other Mages would not. His human mind would look at things differently than an Aravae one. And Neldor–being wise and powerful and kind–would know this and value Finley for it maybe just a little bit more than he did his other students. Finley sighed deeply.
“Finley, I’m old enough now to know what happened. I was there. I should be allowed to know,” she protested quietly, realizing he didn’t want this conversation overheard.
He wrenched his gaze from Neldor. He understood her pain. Knowing things for him was crucial, too. But this was different.
“You were there with us, Gemma, but your mind doesn’t want you to remember. There’s a reason for that,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, bad ones.” Her lower lip stuck out. “The biggest one is that I was little. A child. I’m not anymore.”
“I know. But though I’m twenty-three now and I was only eighteen then, I still can’t really handle what happened then.”
Finley didn’t insult her by saying that twelve was still a child. Gemma was incredibly mature for her age. She often seemed older than him. But the horror of that day when the Leviathan came–when her aunt was slaughtered in front of her–was not something that Finley wanted to have her remember.
“I’ve never said anything about that day to anyone. Not even Dad and Mom. And I know Dad would really like to understand how…” Here, her eyes slid to Neldor, too, and she lowered her voice further, “how we made it through. What I’m trying to say is that I know how to keep a secret. But it should be a secret the three of us share. I have…”
“Have what?”
Here, she rolled her lips together. “I have dreams .”
Finley bit his lower lip. Her dreams were likely her mind’s way of trying to show her what happened.
“What kind of dreams?”
“I’m in the house with Aunt Rachel.” Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. He could feel the tension rising in her as she spoke, “The Sun is out. It’s pouring through the windows in the front room. It should be safe .”
The Leviathan did not like the light. It could destroy them, but there were plenty of shadows even during the day that they could flit between, sneak up behind a person, and… end them.
“I’m sitting on the floor cross legged. Aunt Rachel’s on the tan sofa. I can even feel the nubby carpet underneath my palms.” She rubbed her palms together as if to wash the sensation off. “We’re playing a board game. Clue . I was winning.”
“I bet,” he grinned.
Gemma was notoriously good at strategy. Probably got that from Michael.
But she didn’t smile in return. Instead, faint lines creased her brow as she tried to remember. “Aunt Rachel was laughing and–and then there was a shadow that crossed outside the window, cutting off the light. Or maybe… maybe it was in the house. It was a Leviathan. I’m sure it was.”
This definitely sounded like a memory. Not a dream. Maybe they should tell her what happened. Fill in some of the blanks so that her mind didn’t conjure up worse things than what did occur.
Are there worse things than seeing your aunt enveloped in darkness?
Finley sighed again. Even if he decided that she should know, it couldn’t be his decision alone. Declan would have to agree as it was really Declan’s secret that they were keeping. And who was he kidding? Declan would never agree. Not because he thought that Gemma couldn’t keep a secret. On the contrary, he would know that she could. She’d never tell. But Declan would not want Gemma to have to lie to her parents. Their parents. Declan would rather she be angry with them than that.
“I can’t really remember the rest,” she said with a final shrug, but there was frustration in the line of her back.
“It sounds disturbing,” he admitted lamely.
What could he say? She was living that day in her dreams. When would her mind let her see a little more? When would that dream become a full-blown nightmare?
“It was. It is .” She tightened her hold on herself and looked up at him with beseeching eyes. “I can handle whatever it is that happened that day.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Gemma, you’re one of the bravest people I know, but this isn’t just something I can tell you without…”
“Declan,” she whispered, sudden understanding dawning in her dark face “Doesn’t he trust me?”
“What? Of–of course, he does! It’s not a question of trust , it’s… complicated.”
“That’s Declan in a nutshell.” She smiled wanly.
“Yeah, well, he is… who he is.”
She nodded. “Will you talk to him about it? For me?”
She knew that he wouldn’t budge on this silence without Declan’s consent. He let out another sigh.
“I’ll see, Gemma.”
“Don’t see , do ,” she said with a winning smile.
“It just might not do any good. And I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“All you can do is ask. Not asking means nothing possibly changing so… please ask for me?” She brought her hands together in front of her in pleading.
“Y-yeah, okay, I’ll ask. Just remember what you said here.”
“I will.” Her gaze swung back to the Glass Scholar. “And speaking about asking… You need to talk to Neldor.”
“I really do think tomorrow will be time enough–AH! What are you doing?” Finley cried.
But he knew what she was doing. She was flying him like a kite all the way over to the Glass Scholar’s desk. At his squawk of surprise, Neldor lifted his head. His keen blue eyes focused on the two of them as Gemma pulled him right in front of the Sun Elf.
“Hello, Glass Scholar Loravye,” Gemma said brightly as the ability to speak had seemingly left Finley. “How are you doing on this bright, sunny day?”
“Hello,” Neldor said smoothly as he set down a quill and regarded both of them with equanimity. “I am quite well. And you?”
Finley opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Gemma elbowed him. Still nothing.
“Wonderfully! My name is Gemma Baston and my very quiet friend here is Finley West,” Gemma began sweetly.
Neldor’s blue eyes flicked to him. Finley froze. Would he remember who Finley was? Would that sad little smile appear on his face? No, there appeared to be no recognition there at all. It was as if Neldor had never seen Finley in his life. Finley had thought that the worst thing would be for Neldor to pity him, but to not remember him at all? To not make the least bit of an impression was worse. So much worse.
“I see. And what can I do for the two of you?” Neldor asked, his eyes dropping down to his book. He clearly wanted to return to his reading.
“Well, we would like to look at some books!” Gemma said stoutly.
Fine lines creased Neldor’s forehead. “I’m not sure you would find any you could read in the Athenaeum. The human library is just down the block.”
“No,” Gemma said tightly, “we need books that can only be found here .”
Her dark eyes were flashing with the beginnings of indignation, but she had plastered a smile on her face. Finley found his heart thumping heavily in his chest. Neldor didn’t even think they could read the books here. He didn’t even consider that humans could learn Katyr. He should have waited until Neldor was gone or…
“We do not have picture books here, child,” Neldor answered firmly. “These are great masterworks of Aravae history, which would not interest the likes of you .”
Gemma’s lips parted in anger and hurt. It was seeing that look on her face–emotions that he was feeling, too–that had his voice returning to him.
“Are you working on the second book in your Blacksmiths and Gods series, Glass Scholar?” Finley asked.
Neldor’s eyes shot to him. “What?”
“I see that you’re reading the works of Grell Ironhammer. He was the historian for the Draesiwen King Hein Greatfall.”
Neldor blinked at him. “I… yes. Fancy you knowing that. How do you know that?”
“I’ve read the first book in your series,” Finley told him, which had Neldor blinking even more. “While I admire your attention to Draesiwen dwarf culture, I don’t think you’re correct in your belief that Kindreth Blood Weapons were first forged by the dwarves and then adapted and refined by the Night Elves.”
Neldor’s eyes widened, but then narrowed. “I… what makes you say that?”
He said that because he knew King Hein Greatfall’s descendant, none other than Declan’s boss, Helgrom Greatfall, who had told him it wasn’t true. After reading the first in the Blacksmiths and Gods series, he had immediately gone to Helgrom to quiz him, but the dwarven tavern owner had laughed at Neldor’s claim.
“Just like an Aravae to want to tear down the Kindreth, even if it means raising up another species other than themselves!” Helgrom had let out a great, bitter laugh. “No, Finley, the Blood Weapons–and most enchanted weapons that anyone wields, even the blessed Aravae–are Kindreth -make. And don't let anyone tell you differently. We dwarves make brilliant weapons, don’t get me wrong. But the Blood Weapons are not forged out of metal and fire. They are made from blood and pain. Those are the Kindreth’s specialty.”
But even if Finley had not spoken to Helgrom and trusted the dwarf’s understanding of the matter, he knew it from his own reading. It was to this scholarship that he referred when he spoke next.
“Because King Vex’s most powerful Blood Weapon–the greatsword, Doomshadow–was mentioned in a far earlier history, Blood at the End of the World , by Ion Rizur, as having been brought to the Under Dark,” Finley explained with a surprisingly crisp, cold delivery. “So you see, Vex already had a Blood Weapon before the Kindreth ever met the Draesiwen. Hence, Blood Weapons have nothing to do with dwarves or their part in Vex’s subsequent conquest of the Under Dark.”
There were long moments of silence as Neldor and Finley had a staring match. The affront that had fueled his speech to Neldor started to crack as time stretched. How badly had he offended the Glass Scholar? Had it been worth it to attack in order to salvage his pride?
But it wasn’t just my pride. He went after Gemma. Assuming we’d need picture books for us to understand anything! That could not stand.
Finally, Neldor’s eyes left his and went to the book. “I see. Well, I… Did someone read those books to you–”
“He reads Katyr. Fluently,” Gemma got in. “And he’s teaching me.”
That was true. And she was picking it up rather quickly. Well, when she cared to set her mind to it. But he had a feeling she would certainly do so now.
“We want permission to check out books from the Anthenaeum,” Finley said then added tightly, “Please.”
“And what are you interested in studying here?” Neldor asked.
Gemma opened her mouth, likely to speak of pride about his game and his need for information on Xelroth Vex. But it occurred to him that maybe knowing too much about the Night King wouldn’t sit so well with the Glass Scholar. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“The history of conjuration magic,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. He would look for books on that, too.
Neldor smiled uncertainly. “Well, that is a worthy topic and quite extensive.”
“It’s also on the admissions exam to the Academy,” Finley found himself saying.
Neldor’s eyes sharpened on his. “Yes, it is.”
Again, they locked gazes.
“I see,” Neldor said as Finley said nothing more.
And Finley wondered if he did.
Fifteen minutes later, clutching the thick cardstock that represented his library card, Finley wondered if he had just burned all of his hopes and dreams of being close to the Glass Scholar down. But, then again, maybe it was Neldor who had done that with his prejudice against humans.
“Finley,” Snaglak’s voice brought Finley out of his reverie again, “Declan’s been gone a long time.”
“W-what?” Finley blinked and focused on the massive orc.
His pitcher of beer was nearing its bottom. Again . That was likely why he noticed that Declan wasn’t behind the bar. But no, that was unfair. The truth was that Snaglak was very attentive to him and Declan at all times. He just liked his beer. A lot.
“Oh, well, I’m sure he’s just in the back–”
“No,” Snaglak interrupted. “He went outside.”
For a moment, Finley felt a wash of cold go through him and then a prickling heat. He was up from his chair before he thought of rising. “Outside?!”
Snaglak blinked at him innocently. “Yeah. To pour out the honey brew, I think.”
“How long has he been gone?” Finley couldn’t help but think about Declan’s earlier near-collapse on the street due to exposure to sunlight. “Oh, it doesn’t matter! Come with me! We’ve got to go get him!”
But Finley didn’t get five steps before the door to the Sudden Dawn burst inwards and the Sun King Aquilan Fairlynn himself swept through it. In his arms, seemingly unconscious or worse, was Declan.