Fortress Al-Mir

Arkk stared into the darkness, feeling a constant pull in the back of his navel. He stood still. The ground underneath him was perfectly solid. Yet that twisting in his stomach felt like he was climbing a set of stairs only to try to step up one extra stair that didn’t exist.

Behind him, that orange, hazy light that extended throughout the Underworld illuminated Savren and Dakka along with the wide staircase that led beneath the Cloak of Shadows’ temple. The light cut off abruptly at his feet. Beyond… An abyss. It looked like the bottomless pit beneath Fortress Al-Mir’s [HEART]. Except it wasn’t just a pit. The abyss extended outward to infinity and even above as well despite the impossibility of that. The temple was above, after all.

Holding out a hand, Arkk uttered the incantation for a small ball of light. Enough to hopefully shed some light on the room beyond.

For it was a room. The Protector, forced to crawl on all six limbs like an insect because of the height of the stairwell, stood within the abyss ahead. It looked like the Protector was simply floating. Its chitinous face stared at Arkk without discernable expression, patiently waiting.

The light did nothing. Arkk held it out ahead of him, past the threshold of darkness where the orange haze cut off. He could see his hand. He could see the orb of light hovering above his palm. Yet it didn’t seem to cast any light at all. Not back on him in the stairwell. Not ahead on the Protector. Not even on his palm. Rather, the dark abyss in the room encroached. Thin black tendrils wormed their way around the hovering orb, entangling it. The light shrank and, as the darkness encircled it fully, snuffed out entirely.

“Uh…”

“The Unilluminable Chamber is land consecrated to our Lady Shadows. It cannot be lit through any means.”

“I see,” Arkk said, frowning down at the darkness. Taking a breath, he stepped forward. He didn’t place his weight on his forward foot until he fully felt the firm ground beneath him.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, a chill ran up his spine. Inside the temple, the heat of the wasteland faded somewhat but in here? He might as well have been thrown outside a warm tavern on a cold winter night.

What was more, he found he could see. It wasn’t a large chamber. The rounded walls were adorned with sigils and runes. Even with Zullie’s tutoring, he didn’t recognize a single symbol. All he could tell was that the area immediately around them was somehow darker than the abyss that surrounded him.

What could only be the Shadow Forge stood tall in the center of the room, right next to the Protector. A marvel of mystical engineering. Its design was a fusion of obsidian-like alloys, glowstone crystals that seemed to do the opposite of regular glowstone, and more glyphs that pulsed colors that Arkk had never seen before, nor could he find the words to describe.

At its core, a swirling mass of shadow contained within a crucible mimicked the molten metal that might be found in a regular smithy’s forge.

Parts of it moved. An arm lifted. A hammer crashed down. Gears turned and pistons shifted. All without a hint of sound. It operated autonomously, filling that core with more liquid-like shadows with no clanks of machinery or hisses of steam. The crucible overflowed constantly, spilling the swirling mass. None of the shadows quite reached the ground beneath the forge, however, fading into nothingness well before it could reach.

“Knowledge of its operation is lost to us,” the Protector said, still crawling on all six of its limbs as it circled the forge. “There is one within each temple to poor Lady Shadows. Once upon a time, they were used to manufacture all manner of items. From simple bowls and spoons for the needy to weapons and armaments in times of war.”

With one foot planted on the side of the forge and two hands grasping at some stationary machinery overhead, the Protector dipped a hand into the crucible. The shadows within clung to his fingers like honey, dripping down in long, stretching strands.

“The Night Blade you found above was crafted here by the priests and acolytes. Few were permitted to observe their rites.” It tilted its hand, letting the last of the shadows run off back into the crucible. “Now, they are gone. The knowledge lost with them. I do not know what use it may be but, as it once made weapons of war, it may serve you should you discover its secrets.”

Arkk pressed his lips into a thin line as he stepped closer, watching as a spigot above dispensed more of the liquefied shadows into the crucible. Gears turned and a piston chugged before more spewed out. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. If it was just a bowl of liquid shadow, it would have been unlike anything he had seen. The machine working entirely on its own…

Autonomously.

“In my employ, I have an avatar of the Burning Forge. The member of the Pantheon who deals with fires, fabrication, creativity, and autonomy.” Agnete had been tinkering in the smithy lately. She had crafted Katt’am’s wheelchair among a few other simple items. Nothing as fancy as this, but she seemed to have a knack for manufacturing.

Agnete had never touched an anvil before Fortress Al-Mir. According to Perr’ok, the orc blacksmith who headed Al-Mir’s foundry, her level of skill was equivalent to someone who had been working a smithy for at least ten years. Arkk suspected that was something to do with her status as an avatar, whether by receiving divine inspiration or having already had an innate talent that led to her being chosen as an avatar. Arkk hadn’t thought too much of it before—he had plenty of smiths after recruiting some of the refugees with more than ten years of experience—but now…

“If anyone can figure out how to get it working, it will be her.”

Arkk wasn’t sure what they would do with it. It depended on what the forge was capable of. That ceremonial blade was clearly magical. If they could arm an entire army—or at least their specialists—with magical weapons… Well, maybe that would help level the playing field. Maybe a shadow sword could penetrate or ignore the gold armor of that knight. That alone would help with so much. Morale, mostly.

“The gadget grimly gazes at gravity, grounded and ungraceful. Gathering a gang to govern its gears shall be a gargantuan game.”

Turning, unsurprised to find that Savren had joined him in the dark room, Arkk nodded. “It doesn’t look very mobile,” he agreed. “You said there were more? Is there one closer to the portal?”

The Protector, now a step away from the forge, nodded. “There are several. The closest would be the village where we initially encountered one another.”

“Good,” Arkk said, trying to keep any annoyance at being unable to examine one of these forges earlier out of his tone. “Once we get back, if you would be so kind as to show Agnete the way. Perhaps a few of our other smiths as well.” When the Protector nodded again, Arkk looked back to Savren. “Any input from you on how to work the shadows?”

“I’m a sorcerous scholar, not a smithy savant. Nevertheless, those spellbound symbols on the surfaces…” he said, looking at the eerie runes on the walls of the Unilluminable Chamber. “I’m inclined to intricately inspect those.”

“Very well,” Arkk said, only to pause and look to the Protector. “Uh… if that’s alright with you. It isn’t our intention to commit any sacrilege or blasphemy against the Cloak of Shadows.”

“That you have not fallen to darkness already is evidence enough that your presence here is accepted.”

Arkk shifted in a sudden discomfort. He tried to avoid glancing downward. “That’s a possibility, is it?”

“You stand within land consecrated to the Lady Shadows. Her power is at its highest here.”

“That isn’t… frightening at all. I’m glad we’re accepted.” He leaned over, hissing in Savren’s ear. “Be respectful during your examinations.”

“Eminently,” Savren said with half a bow.

“Good,” Arkk said. “I… I’m curious, Protector. What does it take to consecrate land to the Lady Shadows?”

“You ask for more lost knowledge. The Lady Shadows is also the Lady Secrets. Her acolytes were not the kind to share their tradecraft with outsiders.”

“I see.” The Cloak of Shadows was the god of secrets, shadows, and night. Shame they hadn’t stumbled into someone whose domain involved a little more openness. That said, perhaps Vezta would know. Consecrating land to one god might be similar to all of them. Failing that, the temple back in Fortress Al-Mir was somewhat similar, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she said that the silvery waters were some kind of connection to the realm of the Pantheon?

A few ideas started churning in the back of Arkk’s mind.

Nothing he could act on immediately, however.

“Well, thank you for your willingness to share in any case.”

“I revere the Lady Shadows for all she has done and tried to do for the people here. But I was never an acolyte.”

Arkk gave the Protector a curt nod of his head. “We’ll spend the night here,” he said. Not that there were nights in the land of the night god. That orange haze outside never faded. “Savren, Dakka, continue looking around for anything that might be useful, provided the Protector permits. We’ll head back in the morning and… introduce everyone to our new ally.”

The temple had an armory nearby. Or the remains of one.

Unfortunately, not much within was usable. The building itself was little more than a few crumbling walls, held up by sheer spite against gravity. Metal had rusted, cloth decayed, and shadows had been exposed to the light overhead for far too long. For normal use, light exposure wasn’t a problem. But having sat around in the light for a thousand years, the weapons and armor made from shadow had faded to faint silhouettes of the items in question.

Arkk still had them collected, carefully wrapping them to preserve them as much as possible. Even if they were useless in combat, they were examples of items manufactured in a Shadow Forge. Their existence could help Agnete and the other smiths figure out how to work one of the enigmatic forges.

He held one of the more intact blades aloft. It weighed little. Like lifting a chicken’s feather despite its unwieldy size. And it was unwieldy. The blade was too long. The grip, too thick. At least for a human.

Although Dakka was the smallest of the orcs in his employ, she was still larger than he was. Passing the sword over to her, he noted that it fit far better in her grip. Vezta had said that orcs resembled one of the former inhabitants of this world. He supposed that made sense. She swung it, hacking through the air as a test. It left a faint trail of shadow in its wake, arcing a dark slice.

While it looked right in Dakka’s grip, her few experimental swings with the weapon left a frown on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “It feels flimsy. Weak. It doesn’t have the heft that my axe has. The weight of my axe head helps chop into things I wouldn’t be able to otherwise.”

“Perhaps it has properties that aren’t apparent. Or a freshly made sword would be better.”

Dakka glanced around the room. Not finding what she had been looking for, she set the sword down and removed her helmet. Her face underneath gleamed with small beads of sweat. While the cart had a cooling ritual pumping out chill air in a small radius around it, their exploration into the area around the temple was back in the persistent heat of the Underworld.

She placed the helmet on the ground in front of her before taking up the sword once again.

“Bit of an awkward position for this,” she said, looking down. Even a goblin would have been a larger target. Nevertheless, she raised the sword and brought it down on her helmet with all the force she could.

Arkk wasn’t sure what he expected. Perhaps for the blade to bounce off the armored helm. Or a broken shadow blade.

But something strange happened as the blade drew near the helmet. Covered in small spikes for a fearsome appearance, though designed to break off easily in combat, several little shadows stretched across the top of the helmet. Those lines of shadow cracked and broke when the blade hit, snapping the spikes even though the blade hadn’t touched them.

The helmet itself dented where the blade made contact. It didn’t slice straight through without resistance, instead hitting it as if the sword were any regular metal sword.

“Huh,” Dakka said, pulling the sword back to look it over.

“Huh,” Arkk agreed. “Try stabbing the shadow of the helmet?”

The orange light against the constant haze of the Underworld’s sky wasn’t directly overhead but it was close enough that the helmet didn’t cast a very long shadow. There was still enough of a diffuse darkness for Dakka to grasp the sword in both hands and slam straight down, just to the side of the helmet.

Two things happened at once. The sword, brittle and weak from light exposure, cracked and splintered. Small shards of shadow scattered off into every direction, all but the largest of which faded and vanished. Dakka was left holding nothing but the sword’s handle and the finger-length of shadowy metal sticking out of it.

The helmet, on the other hand, split. Cut straight down the middle, the helmet fell apart, clattering against the dust-covered stone.

For a long moment, Arkk and Dakka simply stared.

“Huh,” Arkk said.

“Huh,” Dakka agreed. “I’m not sure what to think of that.”

“Do you think a normal hit from your axe would have split it down the middle like that?”

Dakka shook her head. “It would have bit into it. Probably killed the guy wearing it—maybe, hitting someone who can fall back is a lot different from hitting a stationary target stuck against the ground—but these helmets aren’t poorly made. It would have left a gash without breaking apart.”

“I see. That’s… interesting? I’m curious to see how it handles something… squishier. Not willing to volunteer for testing, however.”

“Same.” Dakka lifted the handle and turned it over before shaking her head. “It would certainly be a surprise in combat, me slamming a sword down on some guy’s shadow only for his armor to fall off. Assuming it doesn’t slice a guy in half. But at the same time, attacking a shadow seems like it would be awkward in a fight.”

“And what if it is nighttime? Or sufficiently overcast? Or the Golden Order’s avatar produces some light that puts the opponent’s shadow directly behind them.”

“The same works for us, doesn’t it?” Dakka asked, bending to inspect the helmet. She ran her fingers along the cut edge, accidentally slicing part of her glove open. “Toss a glass orb filled with some alchemical solution behind the enemy that lights up when the glass breaks. Their shadow stretches toward us and then we stab it easily.” Her fingers moved to the heavy dent from the first strike against the helmet. “Even if we can’t, they still act like regular weapons it seems. And any little shadow on their body or helmet might cause their armor to break apart.”

“It’s a shame that the Protector never fought with these,” Arkk said with a frown. They were going to have to do a big meeting on just what kind of uses these weapons might have. “There is probably some lost treatise for fighting with and against these kinds of weapons.”

“I cannot recall a time before the end.” The Protector stooped, ducking through the remains of a doorway that was not sized for it. “I know I was there, smaller and less… aware. Although there were many wars after the end, I was not an observer or participant. My time came after, just before… I recall the fears of the people as crops died and livestock thinned. I recall the final words of acolytes across the land. ‘And so, we shall ascend, delivered from our burdens by the grace of the Lady Shadows.’”

“Ascend,” Arkk said, turning to face the Protector fully. “Into those shadows outside?”

There had been more… gatherings of the shadows than just the procession in front of the temple. Arkk had passed a group that might have been browsing a market, another couple who appeared to stand guard around the armory, and plenty more occupying the shadows of old homes, long since broken and withered away.

The Protector did not answer Arkk’s question. It simply looked around, slowly turning its head from Arkk to Dakka and the broken helmet between them. “Did you find aught of use?”

“Just the examples of items from the Shadow Forge as you suggested we would find.”

The Protector nodded. Then, promptly stood aside.

Gretchen stepped into the room, shooting a wary look at the Protector before looking to Arkk. “Cart’s all packed up. We’re ready to move when you are.”

“Thank you,” Arkk said. “We’ll be there shortly.”

Gretchen shot one more look at the Protector before turning on her heel and fleeing back to the safety of the others.

“They fear me.”

“They’re not used to you,” Arkk said, looking over the chitin-covered monster before him. If this building still had a ceiling, it would have to duck and walk on all six limbs as it had down in the Unilluminable Chamber. It was tall, lithe, and had that uncanny face carved from its carapace. “We… don’t have anything like you back home. If they can get used to Vezta, they can get used to you. I wouldn’t worry.” Arkk said with a shake of his head. He left the statement hanging in the air for a long moment, somewhat expecting a response. When none came, he cleared his throat and asked, “Are you ready to leave?”

“I will not leave. I will meet you at your portal.”

“You aren’t coming with us? I thought—”

“I shall maintain my vigil over the shades. It is the solemn duty I have taken on, to protect the subjects of the Lady Shadows. Fear not, I am already waiting for your arrival near your portal.”

Arkk hesitated. A being with multiple bodies was… a strange thing to talk to. One-on-one, it wasn’t so bad. If there were multiple in the same room, what would he do then? Which would he look at when talking to it? Would all of them speak as one or would they take turns?

With a small shake of his head, Arkk looked up at the Protector again and started to nod, only to hesitate as a thought occurred to him. “You are the protector of the shades but… protector from what? We haven’t seen anything in this world apart from you and them. Are there other beings here?”

The Protector didn’t answer right away. It tilted its head up toward the hazy skies, turning slightly to face one of the tall columns of darkness that were scattered across the Underworld. “It has been some time since I last saw others. Perhaps they have gone extinct and only I remain.” It paused a moment before its tone turned to something a little more hostile. “Shadows act differently here compared to memories lifted from your spellcaster. More things interact with them. As I am sure you have noticed,” it said with a gesture toward the broken helmet. “Shadows have developed their own predators.”

Arkk shivered, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Something about the Protector’s tone made him think there was more to it than that.

But the Protector turned away, crawling on all sixes to pass through the armory’s doorway. Arkk followed slowly, making sure to keep a respectful distance. Dakka followed after him, holding the broken helmet under her arm while carrying the remains of the broken blade in her other hand.

“Nevertheless, the Lady Shadows gave me strength and purpose,” the Protector continued. “Allowing me to live in this world. I will continue my vigil in turn.”

“What would you do if these predators have gone extinct?”

“I would change nothing. I can experience things in ways that my memories of your spellcaster cannot. I can explore the world while keeping watch on the shades. I will shortly venture to your world. I imagine it will be a novel experience.”

“I’d say we’ll be as hospitable as we can be. The ongoing war might limit that hospitality.”

The Protector didn’t answer again. Arkk wondered just how introspective it was. Had it had any contact with something that wasn’t itself or a predator since the Calamity? Feeding it Savren’s memories had probably been an unimaginable gift, giving it something other than its thoughts.

“Farewell, Arkk of Al-Mir. I await your arrival.”

With that, the Protector broke off and headed toward the center of the dead city. After glancing at Dakka—and getting a shrug in return—Arkk turned and headed to the outskirts where their cart awaited. It would be a few days back and then…

Then, just how ready were they for the war to resume anew?