Chapter 29
“And that’s when I told him,” laughed Vic, “Alabenthos, darling, you need to relax on this whole Demon Seed thing. If I’m the kind of caliber they’re recruiting, how bad can it be?”
“What I am still trying to understand,” said Kársek quietly, fingers interlaced over his stomach as he leaned back against a rock, “is why you are still alive, Master Carmine.”
“I know.” Vic shook his head sadly. “I can only attribute it to my impossible beauty, wit, bonhomie, and—”
“He’s alive,” drawled Nessa, “because Sam vouched for him. Like she did for Harald. Honestly, the farther we go, the more I question her judgment.”
Harald glanced at Sam. She’d been quiet this whole time, eating without an appetite, watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He wanted nothing so much as to get away with her, have a moment alone—actually. Why wait?
Harald stood. “Speaking of. Sam, do you have a minute?”
Vic rolled his eyes. “Now? On this level? You’re liable to be interrupted by a giant spider or some such. Though I guess you’re infamous for being pretty quick, Harry-boy, so—”
Sam’s stare was enough to silence Vic, who mimed turning a key at the corner of his lips and throwing it away. She stood, dusted herself off, and nodded.
“Back in a bit,” said Harald, and led her down the gulch, just far enough so that they could speak in private. “Hey.”
Sam hugged herself and leaned back against the wall. She met his eyes for a flickerflash, then looked away. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Though he could guess. “Is it my taking Eclavistra’s Crown without checking in with you? Or heading out to level by myself?”
She pursed her lips, sighed, then reluctantly met his eyes.
“Really,” he protested. “Just say it. I’m still me. I just want you to know that.”
“Still you?” Her smile was broken. “Who are you referring to? The Harald from before the Demon Seed? The Harald that tore Gorkin’s private army apart with his bare hands? Or maybe you mean the Harald that executed those three withered Handmaidens in a row?”
He opened his mouth to protest, the urge reflexive, then caught himself. Let her words hang in the air between them and finally gave a grudging nod. “Fair. I guess I meant: I’m still the same Harald who wants more than anything to defeat the demons and end this Celestial War.”
She tongued the inside of her cheek as she studied him. “No matter what it takes?”
“No matter what it takes,” he agreed.
“Even if it means accepting more arch demons as your patron?”
“Eclavistra isn’t my patron. The Crown just fuels me with an extra Throne.”
“You realize that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said?” She took a step forward. “She wouldn’t set you up to accept such a powerful Artifact if it only made you more powerful. Do you honestly think there are no strings attached?”
Harald bit back his frustration. “Honestly? I think Eclavistra is dead last in this race for a reason. I think she fancies herself cunning and smart but if she were, would she need to make such a desperate gamble to begin with? No. She’s hoping I’ll succumb to her influence in time, or whatever, but the truth is I’ll kill her before that happens. ”
“You’re going to kill Eclavistra?” The skepticism was rich.
“That’s right.” Now, Harald took a step forward, so they stood face to face. “She doesn’t know just how big a fish she’s hooked. I—I know how this all looks. My behavior. My making decisions you don’t agree with. Running off to level alone. But it’s all so that I can accomplish my goal. That’s it.”
“You’re not enjoying yourself out here?”
He spun away, his ire roused. “Oh, come on, you know I love fighting.” He glared back at her. “But so what? Am I supposed to be a—a what? A monk, or something, who’s expected to fight demons and somehow not enjoy it?”
Sam crossed her arms. “This is how I see it. You’re tied to Vorakhar and now Eclavistra both.
Your powers drain the living of their vitality—remember what the dwarves said of your Abyssal Grasp power?
There was a time you were horrified to use it, but no longer.
Before you reset your levels, you gained the ability to open the abyss itself in your heart and transform into a living demon.
And now you… your very body, the way you move, is…
” She shook her head, momentarily at a loss for words.
“You don’t look human, Harald. My Warden’s Discernment marks you as more heavily tainted by demonic influence than ever.
You’re thriving on the 36th Level by yourself, with an army of shadow Servitors. ”
“The golem is a genuine one,” protested Harald.
“Whatever.” She searched his face. “You keep telling me that everything is worth the risk, but how much more of you is there left to give? How much longer until the part that makes you Harald, which makes you want to walk the line, is finally replaced by enough shadow or demonic energy or corruption until you forget why it was so important to you in the first place?”
“That’s not going to happen,” he said darkly.
“You’ll keep saying that right up until it does.” She moved closer, put her hand on his arm. “I’m scared for you, Harald. Growing scared of you. The way you looked at me when I first saw you here on this level—you didn’t even recognize me.”
“That’s because I was expecting enemies alone.”
“Whatever. Fine. But Alabenthos thinks you dangerous enough to warrant a Shattered Seraph to watch you at all times. You notice how he didn’t assign one to Vic?”
Harald shrugged.
Her eyes were wide, her gaze raw, vulnerable. “I… I love you, Harald. You know that. Which is why it’s killing me to watch you slowly change into something else.”
He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his brow to touch it against her own.
Closed his eyes. Inhaled her scent. “And I love you, Sam. Which is why all I can do is ask you to trust me. I know I’m playing with fire.
But I decided that either I’m going to make a difference or die trying.
I… I can’t just play it safe and be another lieutenant for the angels, a face in the crowd who fails to shift the tide of war. ”
“You don’t have to save the world,” Sam protested softly.
“I have to try.” Her skin was warm, her smell intoxicating, the pain in her voice near broke his heart.
“This isn’t about me. Or us. This is about Flutic.
The Fallen Angel. Stopping the demons that have wrought so much pain and horror.
If there’s a chance I can make a difference—at any cost—then how can I not take it?
Worst case scenario you use the Mote of Humility to put me down. Done.”
She gripped his wrists. “Harald!”
“But!” He spoke over her protest. “If I pull this off? If I destroy Eclavistra, and then roll deeper into the dungeon, if I make a big enough difference—then won’t that be worth any risk?
You told me yourself that the angels are losing.
What secret weapons do they have in their arsenal?
What final desperate play? They don’t, do they?
They’re too cautious, too hide bound, too conservative to break free of tradition and turn the tide of war. ”
He drew back. “But I’m not. I’ve got something going, Sam. I can feel it. A tide, a sense of momentum, of inevitability. I’m going to burn a path down to the 41st and destroy Eclavistra. Her gift, no matter how double-edged, has increased my power to an impossible degree.”
Tears glimmered in Sam’s eyes.
“Just stay with me,” he whispered. “Trust me a little longer. Believe that I still know what I’m doing, even if it looks like madness from the outside. Can you do that?”
The tears brimmed and ran down her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” The relief was profound. “I promise, I swear to you, I’m still me. Deep down inside, I’m still the guy who you grew up knowing. Stay with me, and we’ll change the world together.”
“All right, Harald.” Her voice sounded broken, resigned, acquiescing. “I’ll trust you. I’ll stay with you.”
“Good.” He tried for a smile, but couldn’t quite manage it, so instead he leaned in and kissed her.
She raised her face to his own, her lips wet with her tears, and then pulled him close to her, arms strong. They broke the kiss and held each other tight.
“I love you, Harald.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“I love you.” He pressed his cheek to her scalp, wanting nothing more than to protect her from all sources of pain, and knowing, unable to deny, that he’d bring more pain to her than anything else. “And I’m sorry. For this being so hard. I promise it won’t be this way forever. You’ll see.”
“All right,” she said, her voice small, and he couldn’t tell if she believed him or was simply surrendering to his confidence.
* * *
It took a surprisingly long amount of time to catch everyone up to speed. Nessa went first, explaining her new powers. She’d not only finally grown into her 7th Level Active and Passive, but manifested her 8th Level after her confrontation with her father.
“My Class is leaning ever more heavily into trust and orchestration,” she said, and there was a calmness to her tone that did more to reveal her growth than anything else.
“My 7th Level Active—Grand Orchestration—allows me to briefly weave the entire party into a unified whole, coordinating everyone’s attacks for the very best outcome. ”
“So, Grand Puppeteer,” said Vic helpfully.
“No.” She gave him a warning glare. “I conduct the party. Guide it. I don’t puppeteer. And my Passive—Weaver’s Foresight—gives me a form of short-term combat precognition. I can read what’s going to happen seconds before it does.”
“So, Weaver’s Puppeteer,” said Vic helpfully.
“Harald,” asked Nessa sweetly, “can you ask Exeros to manifest and blast him from the face of existence?”
Harald looked up at the nearby mote of light. “Exeros? Any help?”
There was no response, so he just shrugged apologetically.