Fortress Al-Mir

An iridescent crystal with an odd yellow hue sat on the table, held upright by three nail-like prongs crafted down in Fortress Al-Mir’s smithy. There were no glowstones in the room. Nothing that might contaminate it with ambient magic. The only light came from a set of three oil lamps, slowly burning away. The small flames flickered and wavered, sending the iridescent gleam up and down the smooth sides of the crystal.

“The gem matches the portal archway,” Hale said, staring at the crystal. “Like, close enough that if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you hacked a chunk off it.”

“Portal archway?” Sylvara asked, looking at the small girl.

“I believe you sat in on a meeting or two where our access to the Underworld came up?” Zullie said, empty eyes locked onto the crystal. “Arkk never actually showed you it, did he.”

“Such secrets should strictly stay shielded from the scrutiny of your Inquisition.”

Sylvara eyed Savren but didn’t comment. She looked back to the crystal. “An archivist who frequently helped Vrox and I during our research gave me this the day I left. She said it would help, though she didn’t say what with. Hearing what you have to say on it makes the inquisitor in me wonder how an archivist got her hands on some kind of… planar shard?”

“Oh,” Zullie said, leaning forward with an almost maniacal grin on her eyeless face. “It’s far more than just a bit of errant planar magic. I have seen things. Those portals? They were created by Xel’atriss, Lock and Key, as gifts to the worlds. Most, I imagine, were destroyed in the years following the Calamity. Those that aren’t have been long buried, lost and forgotten for a thousand years. So, yes. Quite interesting that an archivist got her hands on a piece of one. An active piece. Now that it is out of that case, I can… well, I can see Xel’atriss, Lock and Key’s power radiating off that thing.”

“It has a rune on it,” Hale said, more for Zullie’s sake than anyone else’s. “A solitary dot within a larger circle.”

Zullie let out a long hum, tapping a thin finger on the rim of her glasses. “Doesn’t match any of the runes on our portal, does it?”

“No,” Hale said.

Arkk drew in a breath as he looked over the research team. He had asked Vezta about the rune upon first seeing it in Sylvara’s hands. “That is supposedly the symbol for the Eternal Silence. God of rest, sleep, peace… and death. One of three members of the Pantheon that Vezta suggested was most opposed to the Heart of Gold. The others being the Eternal Permafrost and the Jailer of the Void.”

“Rest, peace, sleep, and death,” Ilya repeated, speaking for the first time since this meeting began. She expressed confusion as to why she had been invited given her lack of magical knowledge. Arkk mostly just wanted her at his side. It felt like they were always apart these days. “Those traits oppose gold?”

“The Heart of Gold holds dominion over wealth, possessions, and—allegedly—love. I’ve not seen evidence for that last one but that’s what Vezta said. Material, worldly things, in other words.”

“Greed,” Savren cut in.

Arkk started to nod but paused. “According to Vezta, followers of the Heart of Gold often… well… engaged in violence—to put it lightly—against those who insinuated they followed a god of greed. But yes. The Eternal Silence’s focus on death and sleep is more immaterial—you can’t carry your wealth into a dream, after all. Vezta’s words, not mine.”

“I see,” Sylvara said, not sounding wholly convinced.

Arkk didn’t blame her. “Not every member of the Pantheon has a direct opposition like fire to ice,” he said with a light shrug. “That’s probably why she suggested three different gods. But having this crystal here now… Well, it can’t hurt to try with this one.”

“That’s… convenient. And raises more questions for the archivist. Did she know?” Sylvara murmured to herself. “Perhaps Vrox mentioned something to her. Or she just saw where our research was headed and knew this crystal was sitting somewhere in the archives.” Sylvara shook her head, focusing her red eyes back on Zullie. “I’ll interrogate—or thank—her the next time I’m in Chernlock. For now, I presume you know of a way to use this? I know how to craft Binding Agents, but I need materials infused with opposing power.”

“Yes,” Zullie said. “We—

Arkk interrupted, “No. We can’t.”

“It will be simple,” Zullie said, ruffling her robes as she folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t know how the Abbey gets their material, but all we have to do is replace the keystone rune of the portal with this. We walk in, find a few artifacts of the Eternal Silence, and walk out. Sylvara performs her artifice. Then we have a weapon to use against the avatar.”

Arkk let out a long sigh. “And if we can’t turn the portal back to the Underworld? Olatt’an and Ilya’s mother are still out there,” he said, giving Ilya a firm nod of his head. “Even if they weren’t, if we were to lose access to the Underworld, we lose our ability to charge up glowstones for siege magics. We lose additional artifacts from the Cloak of Shadows. And who knows what might happen to the Protector.”

“Having harnessed hidden insights from the minds of the multi-linked, I can confidently claim that the magic melding them moves beyond mere material planes.”

Arkk shot Savren a look, both in annoyance at having his argument undermined and in curiosity at how Savren felt confident in how the Protector’s mind linked together. Before he could ask, however, Zullie cut in, thumping a hand against the table.

“Think of what we gain! Whole new artifacts from a whole new seat of the Pantheon. Think of how great the shadow forged gear is and imagine outfitting another squad with Eternal Silence flavor scythes.”

“The Eternal Silence is the god of peace,” Arkk said with a frown. “Do you think we’ll find weapons?”

“Also the god of death.”

Arkk didn’t have a counterpoint for that. “Olatt’an and Alya are still out there along with their expedition,” he said. That was, by and large, the most important reason to not proceed at this point.

“Damn right,” Ilya added, shooting a glare at Zullie. “We might have had a little falling out, but I don’t want her banished to another plane for the rest of her life. Elves live very long lives.”

“If they were back,” Arkk continued, “I might consider it, but they aren’t. We’re not going to play with their lives. Even if you’re confident that you can switch the portal back and forth, I am not.”

Zullie would have glared had she her eyes. Instead, she pressed her lips into thin lines.

“But,” Ilya said, raising a finger. “Don’t we have another choice?”

Arkk looked at the elf, eyes trailing down her pointed ear to the thoughtful look on her face. It was the look of someone who just had an epiphany. But Arkk wasn’t having the same epiphany and, judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, nobody else understood either.

“What do you mean?”

“The other archway.”

“Other archway?”

Ilya nodded. “Early on, when we were still looking for jobs for the orcs to do to keep them out of trouble, we accepted that request for expeditionary escorts out to some pyramid in the highlands. I remember we got a letter from them right around the time we were in Moonshine Burg dealing with the slavers,” she said with notable distaste. “The expedition found a big mural that seemed to detail some history of the world—I don’t really remember that bit—but they also mentioned a big crystalline archway. Isn’t that the same portal structure?”

Arkk stared at Ilya, blinking a few times. If he were being completely honest, he had forgotten that entirely. He did remember receiving a letter sometime in the aftermath of the inquisition expedition where he had acquired Agnete as an ally and fended off Vrox and Chronicler Greesom. Had that mentioned an archway?

Closing his eyes, he focused a moment. Somewhere in his study was a small leather-bound folder. And in that folder…

There.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at the freshly teleported letter. He skimmed through it until he came across one specific passage.

What we found was unlike anything I have witnessed in my thirty-nine years. A complex labyrinth of corridors and rooms. Most were, regrettably, empty. Their contents decayed beyond any reasonable identification. The full details are attached but I will call special attention to three rooms in particular. One, a room with a large crystalline archway, covered in strange patterns and designs. I have shipped off sketches of the designs to the Cliff Academy in the hopes of uncovering the nature or purpose of the archway—I am not a spellcaster myself nor were any on our expedition—but they have yet to return my missives. I will send another letter to you with their results if they ever come.

He had never received another letter. The war had started soon after, so that wasn’t particularly surprising. The war had disrupted almost everything. But there it was, clear as day. A detail he had forgotten that Ilya kept in mind.

Another archway. Not even that far away.

Arkk leaned back, taking his eyes off the letter to stare at Ilya with a rising feeling in his chest. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love you?”

Red flooded into Ilya’s pointed ears. “Not now,” she hissed.

“Later then. For now… I’ve got some ritual circles to scribe out to get us out to this place. Zullie, you think this will work?”

“You never told me about another archway,” she said with a small frown.

“I’ve always got a lot going on. I’m sure I’ve forgotten more things than I remember.”

“Which is why you need to tell me,” she snapped, then sighed. “As for whether it will work… It won’t be connected to Fortress Al-Mir, but if we charge up a crate of glowstones before… Ah, but the state of the portal might be… I’ll have to see it to be certain, but I’ll give it a tentative possibly right now.”

“Better than what we had before,” Arkk said. “Meet back here in two hours. I’ll be done by then.”

After a few more than two hours, a time spent poring over maps and tracking down a few of the orcs who had gone on the expedition, Arkk finally stepped out of a teleportation circle in the Mystakeen highlands and took a deep breath. The air was fresh and the skies were clear. The temperature was a bit crisp. He wouldn’t want to stand outside for long periods without a heavier coat, but he wasn’t planning on staying out in the sun.

They were a fair trek west of Elmshadow, almost directly at the midpoint between the burg and Evestani’s border.

During Evestani’s first march across the Duchy, the army had avoided the highlands, choosing the easier, less mountainous routes through the land. Arkk was hoping that continued, but even if it didn’t, they should have at least two unobstructed weeks before Evestani neared the mountains.

Arkk stepped outside the ritual circle, allowing the rest of the research crew to follow one at a time, and looked over the surroundings. Tall trees grew thick enough that just trying to walk through them would have been nearly impossible were it not for the flagstone pathways set through what looked to be ruins of a rather small village. Even those paths were overgrown with brush and shrubs.

It was a rather strange place for a village, in Arkk’s opinion. Set on the top of one of the highland mountains, it had a clear view down the narrow valleys and across to other mountains in the land formation. There was no obvious source of water and no room for crops. Any normal village would have failed here.

This one had failed, but not before growing a little larger than Langleey. The remnants were all cobblestone buildings that lacked roofs. Presumably, they would have been made from straw or thatch that would have rotted away over the centuries. Before then… It had likely been supported by the fortress.

At the center of the village ruins was a black marble ziggurat that looked practically brand new. A smooth monolith with no seams and no openings, just as described in Ramis Phonk’s letter. Ilya sent off a letter to the Historical Curator of the Crown while Arkk had been locating the structure, inquiring about additional details, results of various research, and anything else Phonk might think of, but they probably wouldn’t hear a response anytime soon.

“Everyone’s here.”

Arkk turned to Ilya, gave her a nod, and looked out over the rest of the group.

Sylvara stood, back straight with her gloved hand on her hip, eying the ruins of the village and the ziggurat. Just behind her, Zullie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, shivering with Hale acting as a guide at her side. Savren, accompanied by Morvin and Gretchen, was amid a long yawn—he had decided on napping before coming out here, not sure how long they would be working. In addition to the research team, Arkk had pulled Dakka and her team from Elmshadow to primarily act as guards, just in case they did manage to open a portal and it held something hostile on the other side. A few others, orcs and humans mostly, were present as well to assist with heavy lifting or other grunt work.

Finally, Gratt’an stood just a little behind Ilya. The tan-skinned orc looked around with different eyes compared to everyone else present. The others looked around the area with unfamiliar expressions on their faces, the looks of people first visiting a new location. Gratt’an’s burly face was a lot more flat and uninterested in the surroundings.

For one simple reason. He had been here before.

“This way,” Gratt’an said, heading off toward one of the overgrown pathways.

Arkk, wanting to make sure nobody got lost or left behind, let out a sharp whistle to ensure he had everyone’s attention. A simple gesture had them all trudging after him.

“Everything seemed like a bust,” Gratt’an said as he turned down a path that led alongside the ziggurat. “Was just looking for a bit of loot. Anything to make the trip that much more valuable, you know?”

“Find anything?”

“Few stray coins. Not gold. Nothing worth nothing. Shopkeep in a town on the way back said he wouldn’t take them.”

“Shame,” Arkk said.

“Right shame. But thanks to that, I found this,” Gratt’an said as he stepped into a roofless building. It was a bit larger than most of the others. Maybe a storehouse? Or simply the entryway.

At the back of the cobblestone structure, there was a doorway with a large door crafted from the same black marble that the ziggurat was made from.

“We had to pry it open,” Gratt’an said, glaring at it. “Took six of us all heaving against it. Not fun, but we got it.”

“Good work,” Arkk said, peering down into the darkness. Everyone present had a few glowstones—the lesser ones for lighting rather than the large ones for spellcasting. He had known it would be dark but…

Just looking down the stairs, he was struck with a vague sense of nostalgia for his first visit to Fortress Al-Mir, before he had contracted with it and lit everything up. At the time, he had been concerned about the imminent attack on Langleey Village. Too concerned to appreciate the place.

Following after Gratt’an, he felt he could appreciate this place even more, now that he knew what it was and how old it was.

“It’s different from Al-Mir,” Ilya said, running her fingers along the walls. “Everything is smooth and glossy. No maze patterns at all.”

“The Heart probably belonged to a different god,” Arkk said, noting the floor’s lack of any pattern. “Vezta might have been able to tell us who. I’m not sure.”

Vezta was still at Leda’s walking tower. Arkk hadn’t recalled her or Priscilla for this, even though he probably should have.

There were too many things going on at once. He had to split his resources across Mystakeen. It was the same reason why Agnete wasn’t here. She was in Cliff alongside Claire, both of them being his best shot at preventing a demon from rampaging across the land if Katja’s diplomacy fell short.

Gratt’an let out a brief grunt, stopping at the bottom of the stairs where the corridor split off. “Good. They’re still here,” he said holding his glowstone up to the corner. A few white marks adorned the wall along with arrows pointing down the various passages. “Those historians left marks here to help find their way around. Place is a worse maze than home. Wouldn’t have wanted to try to figure out where to go without them.

“These are the ones we want,” he said as he jammed his finger next to a large chalk archway on the wall. “Just follow the arrows and we’ll be there.”

Sure enough, Gratt’an knew what he was talking about. It was a bit further along than Arkk expected but they still arrived at the archway without fail.

A large, crystalline archway covered in numerous runes in a room almost exactly the same as the one in Fortress Al-Mir.

“Perfect,” Zullie hissed, eyeless sight roaming over the arch. “This should work.”

“Arkk… Arkk…”

Arkk stirred, feeling a hand shaking his knee. He was sitting mostly upright but reclined back against something soft with his eyes closed. Sleeping? He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

The hand on his knee gave him a hard pinch, twisting his skin underneath his pants.

“Ilya? What—”

“Not Ilya.”

Arkk’s eyes snapped open, recognizing the voice.

Hale stood in front of him, twin tails of black hair looking far longer than she used to keep them. She lifted an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

“Hale,” he said, leaning forward. Discreetly patting himself down, making sure he was still all in one piece, he glanced behind him. Ilya was in the same stone chair—the padding, if it ever had any, had long since withered away—sleeping as well. She stirred as he moved but didn’t open his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

Hale shrugged. “You left us to the work about… five hours ago? Ilya said she would check on you an hour after after that. Neither of you came back.”

“Right…” Arkk said, rubbing his forehead. “Because we were…” He trailed off, frowning at Hale. “Plotting.”

“Uh-huh. Zullie is ready for you.”

“Ready?” Arkk asked, buttoning up his tunic. “Ready for what?”

“To activate the portal.”

“Already?” Arkk asked, suddenly feeling far more awake. “How long was I asleep?” he mumbled again. It had taken months of off-and-on work to get the first portal opened. If he had watched them work for the first few hours before fatigue caught up to him. It just felt like he never got a minute to sleep these days. If they had kept working through the evening…

It couldn’t have been more than half a day since they got here.

“She wanted to open it right away but Savren stopped her, saying it would be best if you were present.”

“Good man,” Arkk said, only to pause. “Never thought I’d say that.”

“Shall I tell them you’re on your way?” Hale asked before leaning to peer at Ilya. “Or do you want a little more time to straighten your clothing?”

Arkk pivoted in the chair again. Ilya’s tunic had lifted, exposing her waist. The once smooth skin was marred somewhat, a result of his poor attempts at healing her combined with Hale’s efforts to better her, leaving her with some plated scales cascading down from her chest to her belly button. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and gave her a light poke just above the hip.

Ilya jolted awake with a harpy-like squawk. Entirely on reflex and certainly not on purpose, she shoved him out of the chair, throwing him to the floor. Her silver eyes darted about, first finding Hale, who took a step back, before landing on Arkk. “You,” she growled.

Arkk chuckled, feeling better than he had since hearing the Prince was a potential demon summoner.

“I’ll tell them ten minutes,” Hale said, backing out of the side room.