Chapter 4
They found Lord Alabenthos awaiting them in a grand hall.
A great emerald lagoon covered most of the floor, edged in tile and gold, and fed by a waterfall that fell from circular skylights some hundred yards above.
The cascading water dispersed into mist just before reaching the green waters.
Fluted columns lined an arcade that allowed them to approach his great throne, which was set atop a small ziggurat of white marble steps against the back wall.
Green vines and ivy drenched the walls, and the white light filtering down from above caused the falling water to light up where it passed through the slanting beams.
“Impressive,” murmured Nessa as they approached the seated angel. “Have to wonder who the architect was.”
“No architect,” answered Kársek. “I examined the stonework. This was not built.”
“Like a dream, then.” Sam’s tone was wistful as she passed her hand over the green leaves that covered the wall. “Imagined by the Fallen Angel.”
Harald kept his gaze locked on the lord. A host of white silhouettes were clustered about the base of the step-ziggurat, but they were amorphous and without features. Ghosts?
Welcome, said Alabenthos. You are committed still to aiding us in our war against the demons?
Their group came to a stop at the first step.
Harald glanced at his friends for confirmation.
Kársek’s expression was calm, almost placid, while Sam gazed up at Alabenthos with fierce determination.
Only Nessa remained ambivalent, a single vertical line between her dark brows, but she was here, was she not?
“Yes,” said Harald. “That’s our intent. It’s why we came back to the dungeon.”
Very well. Your offer is accepted. There is much potential in your group to effect change, but you are still young, inexperienced, and weak.
Harald tried not to bridle at these words.
Therefore, it is incumbent upon me to wield you wisely.
How I deploy you shall be as important as the goal itself.
There is no sense in sending you forth if you cannot even reach your foe.
I have thus settled upon a worthy target for your first trial: a demonic enclave on the 41st Level beholden to that wretch, Eclavistra.
“A demonic enclave?” Harald tried to swallow that down. “Sounds… great.”
Alabenthos laughed, and the sound was not reassuring.
Fear not. While your party is currently unsuited to the task, I do not mean to send you to your deaths.
You shall first train here in my domain until I deem you ready to proceed.
Then you shall descend, level by level, to the 41st. If you can overcome the perils of the seven floors between us and your objective, you shall be well suited for that battle.
“Training?” asked Sam, and she couldn’t keep an edge of excitement from her voice. “You will train us, my lord?”
Not I. But there are various individuals under my command who shall lend you their guidance. Once they have given me their vote of confidence in your progress, you shall sally forth.
Harald nodded to himself. This was good. His battle with Brauxis had revealed just how much he still needed to learn. “Thank you, Lord Alabenthos. What else can you tell us about this enclave?”
The details shall be revealed once—or should I say, if—you are able to pass your training.
Your spirit is willing, but your flesh is weak.
If you cannot master the lessons you are to be taught, then you shall be of no use to me.
Return now to your quarters. You shall be summoned by your teachers forthwith.
Harald forced a half-bow, and after sharing a glance with his companions, retreated along the arcade, leaving the angel on his throne.
Once they were quit of the huge cavern, Sam all but clapped her hands. “Training! And under Lord Alabenthos’ direction! This is fantastic.”
“I want to disagree,” said Nessa. “But I fear you’re right. Note the threat buried in his words: if we don’t learn swiftly enough, he’ll cast us out.”
“We’ll learn,” said Harald confidently. “We’ve nothing if not endless potential.”
“Says the man with a Divine Soul Rank.” Nessa tossed her mane of ebon hair behind one shoulder. “To Sam who has an equally impossible Soul Rank. Whereas mine is but ‘Rare’. I believe my potential is definitively capped.”
Harald went to protest, but both the sudden bitterness in Nessa’s voice and the truth of her words stopped him.
“You’re a Level 7 Bladeweaver,” said Sam at last. “You’ve gained how many levels in the past few months? I’d say you’re doing all right.”
“Doing all right.” Nessa flashed Sam a cutting smile. “More generous words were never—” She cut herself off and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Just a moment of self-pity, there. Ignore it. I am delighted to receive angelic training.”
“Whereas I shall practice on my own,” said Kársek. “I doubt that Lord Alabenthos has anyone in his retinue capable of refining my mastery of Earthblood.”
“I wish Vic had stayed.” Harald couldn’t tell if it was anger or loss that affected him most. “Where did he say he was going? How are we supposed to meet up with him again?”
They passed into a broad corridor that would take them most of the way back to their quarters.
“To be fair, I don’t think he’d have passed Alabenthos’ test,” said Nessa. “It was one of character, wasn’t it? Vic is many things, but honorable and fair… well. Not his best attributes.”
“He told me he’d look out for us,” said Sam quietly.
“When I followed him to the portal Brauxis summoned for him. I… I managed to get past his dark humor and really speak to him, for a moment, at least, and he… well.” Sam blew out her cheeks.
“He was terrified but determined. Said Eclavistra would safeguard him in the dungeon, and that he’d figure things out as he went. ”
“Now that’s a pretty conflict of interest,” said Nessa. “We’re to destroy an Eclavistra encampment, are we not?”
“Great,” said Harald, and looked for a pebble or something to kick. There was only gleaming marble, however. “Well, we’re all agreed that we’re not fighting Vic, right?”
“Absolutely,” said Sam right away.
“Nessa?” prompted Harald after a moment.
Who shrugged. “He’s got her Demon Seed, doesn’t he? Already it’s warped him. What he did to Anna, his murder of Melisende Celestis, his…” Nessa’s voice trailed off. “He always hated the injustices of the world, but he was never a crusading… what would you even call him? A revolutionary?”
“He’s still Vic,” said Harald stubbornly.
Nessa laughed. “Mostly, yes. Let’s see how much of him remains the next time we meet.”
“I’m not fighting him,” said Sam stoutly.
Nessa smiled sadly and walked on.
* * *
A meal had been conjured for them in Sam’s chambers, and their teachers arrived after they were finished.
Harald and his companions were engaged in idle musings when a stern knock sounded on the double golden doors, but Shadowpaw’s presence, dimly sensed just beyond, gave away the knocker’s identity.
“Come in,” called Sam.
Brauxis pushed the doors open with both hands, and marched inside, Shadowpaw trotting gamely by his side, looking exhausted and happy. But two more figures followed after: Rovarik and Seraphina.
“Ho there! I trust you enjoyed your repast! Lord Alabenthos is famed throughout the dungeon for the quality of his viands!”
“No, he’s not,” said Rovarik with quiet amusement. “I have never once heard anyone mention the food from the 33rd.”
“Sam,” said Seraphina, her voice betraying warmth even as her expression remained cool. She wore white as always, her twin wings furled behind her back, her black hair freshly washed and curling about her jawline. Her stare, when she met his own, was as fierce as ever.
“Seraphina!” Sam rose to her feet with a smile. “Are you to be my teacher?”
“How did you guess?” Seraphina rested her hands on the twin pommels of her Eclipse Edges, each buckled at her hip. “Lord Alabenthos has charged me with improving your odds of reaching the 41st. I won’t go easy on you.”
“Of course not,” said Sam hurriedly, her smile immediately replaced by a stern nod.
“And I shall be your master,” said Rovarik with an easy smile. “Nessa, is it not? No Demon Seed that I should know about?”
“My instructor, perhaps.” Nessa leaned back in her chair and studied the handsome young man. “Though even that remains to be seen.”
Rovarik smiled in surprise. “Oh? You think you’re my match? Well, this will be more than I’d hoped.”
To which Nessa only smiled.
“And you, Young Darrowdelve!” Brauxis’ voice boomed. “We shall forge your soul into an adamantine whole! I have much to instruct you, and I trust that you shall prosper greatly from my lessons!”
Shadowpaw gave a sharp bark and then sat, tongue lolling out the side of his huge jaw.
“Tell me you didn’t claim me as your student so as to get more time with my dog,” grinned Harald.
“Perish the thought!” Brauxis leaned down to scratch behind Shadowpaw’s triangular ear and then chuckled as the mastiff snatched at his hand and clamped his jaws shut about his armored fingers. “Though I will admit it is a silver lining.”
“Ouch,” said Sam, wincing as Shadowpaw growled and tugged and worried at the Emanation’s gauntlet.
“Now?” asked Nessa.
“Now,” agreed Rovarik. “Unless you have a full tummy and need to lie down?”
“Oh, this will be fun,” agreed Nessa, and her smile could have cut glass. “Lead the way, angel-boy.”
“Angel-boy.” Rovarik chuckled. “From anyone else, I’d be offended.” Then his tone changed, becoming sharp. “Follow.”
And he turned on his heel to depart.
Nessa licked her lower lip, eyes half-lidded, and simply stared.
“Go easy on him,” said Harald. “He doesn’t know what he’s dealing with.”
“He’ll soon find out.” Nessa vaulted over the table and strode from the room with a purpose.
“I… I think that’s going to work,” said Sam after Nessa was gone. “Maybe that’s just what she needed.”