Stolen by the System

Sorcha, Airleas, Caylin, Finvarra, Onora. Each name had been on the magic tapestry in the ancient wood elven ruins, and all of them had been followed by So’maevka.

Ten thousand years in the Deep-Forest, cut off from the tree-song and alone. Ted’s skin crawled thinking about what they must have been through. Would he have handled that any better?

“They were all wood elven mages, during the Age of Heroes,” he said, the sheer horror of it refusing to sink into his mind.

The others stared back at him. Cara tilted her head from side to side and Edana’s brow furled. Luther, meanwhile, nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and who knew what Jeremy was thinking behind that gruff mask.

Elivala scoffed and shook her head. “These are no wood elves.”

No questioning of how he knew. She really did know all about the trip to the ruins. She was probably hoping everyone would skip over exactly where the information came from.

Ted glanced at Edana. Damn it, who cared about some stupid taboo now? “They have corrupted versions of Mend, Commune, Grow, Shapechange, and Rebirth, don’t they?”

Doubt flickered across Elivala’s face. She took a deep breath and sighed. “That correlates, yes, but it proves nothing.”

Edana looked between the two of them and tilted her head. “Rebirth? Grow? What are you talking about? And how do you know names purged from history?”

“I went to the ancient mage ruins,” Ted said. No need to mention that Jeremy and Cara had been there too, and probably Elivala as well. Not that most of them would have had enough Discern Magic to read it. “They’re mentioned in the magical tapestries there, as are all five of those spells.”

“You knew about this?” Edana asked, staring wide-eyed at Elivala. Her gaze shifted to Jeremy. “And you too?”

Jeremy nodded, his grim expression unflinching, leaving Edana speechless.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elivala said. “We kill them, or they kill us.”

Ted’s chest clenched tight. “How could it not matter that they’re sentient?”

Elivala’s stared back at him through dead eyes. “They’re dungeon spawn. The enemy.”

Red-hot rage flared in Ted’s chest. “Oh, and it’s that simple, is it?”

“Yes.”

His fists balled up, and he turned away before he did something they’d all regret. “They’re your people. We can reason with them.”

Cara’s hand settled on his back, a welcome source of comfort. “You weren’t here.” Her hand trembled and her voice broke. “The things they’ve done…”

Ted took a deep breath and sighed. If even Cara didn’t want to help them, maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were nothing more than an enemy to kill.

This wasn’t his world, but it didn’t make sense. Why would they attack their own home?

A pit formed in his stomach. Had they? “When did they first attack?”

Elivala took in a sharp breath. “We’re wasting time. The dungeon spawn have been attacking us since before you arrived, Lookout.”

“No, not the dungeon spawn. The dryads. When did they first attack?”

Another scoff from the Keeper. “The dryads began encircling us shortly before Cara returned. She can vouch for their brutality.”

The pit in Ted’s stomach grew deeper. “Cara?”

Cara stared at the floor, her slumped shoulders a sorry sight to behold. “Phelan led the mission.”

Ted’s breath caught. What had they done?

“We snuck up behind the tree, the dryad, and we…” Cara grimaced and shook her head. “We struck first.”

“No,” Elivala said. “They struck first by attacking the Forest.”

Ten thousand years alone. Ted’s fingernails bit into his palms. Lost, ripped away from their home, and then, when their imprisonment finally ended, attacked by their own family. “And the full-scale attacks started after that?”

Jeremy grunted and shook his head. “No. That began only after we killed a dryad and stole its corpse.” He stared at Elivala. “We can’t dismiss this.”

Tension hung thick in the air. Eventually, the Keeper nodded. “Fine, but it changes nothing. There’s no indication they can even communicate, let alone be reasoned with each other.”

“They communicate with each other,” Cara said, fire returning to her eyes. “There’s a psychic link between them.”

Ted’s heartbeat kicked up a beat. It might work. “Alright then, if we can convince one, they can convince the others.”

“Ten thousand years is a long time,” Edana said. “What if they can’t be reasoned with?”

“We have to try.”

Elivala crossed her arms. “And what do you propose? That we walk up to them and give them back their fallen sister?”

“That wouldn’t be a bad start.”

Cara gasped. Her chin trembled, and she shook her head. “We can’t.”

“It’s a risk, sure, but what’s the alternative?”

She clenched her eyes shut and turned away. “Do you know what that cost us?”

“What’s gone is gone,” Ted said, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest and pressing on. “All we can fight for is what’s left.”

Cara glowered back at him, rage in her eyes, before storming off growling.

Ted bit his lip. What had it cost her? And why, oh why, hadn’t he been here to stop it?

Elivala clasped her hands behind her back and glared at him. “Thank you for your report, Lookout. Dismissed.”

Ted took a deep breath, bowed his head, and hurried after Cara. Idiots. Scared or not, they couldn’t fight their way out of this one. They had to see that, right? Even with the dwarves, infinitely respawning dungeon spawn versus mortals could only end one way.

“Cara, wait up!”

She kept going, but at least she wasn’t running. Maybe he should have been more sensitive, but that didn’t make it any less true. Not everything—or everyone—could be saved.

Like his father. He swallowed hard. Except he had to save his father. That stupid quest. Save your father, save the world.

A world that contained Cara, and countless others that deserved to live.

He jogged up alongside her. “I’m here for you. If you want it.”

“For how long?” she said, kicking at the dirt with her foot.

“As long as I can. I could have left, you know. Gone back to my world, back under Tarkath. I chose to stay.”

She turned on him, her wide emerald eyes interrogating his soul. “Why?”

Pressure pounded against his chest. “Because…” How to even answer that? He threw up his arms and shrugged. “Because I care about you.”

She looked away and fiddled with the dagger at her belt. “You barely know me.”

“You’re the bravest and most inspiring person I’ve ever met, and I can’t wait to get to know you more.”

“Inspiring?” She laughed bitterly. “Now I know you’re playing with me.”

“You inspired me to save Valbort.”

She scoffed. “You saved the dwarves well enough without me.”

The dreadful memory of that piercing crack punched Ted in the gut. “No…” He looked down at the floor. “Not all of them.”

Time dragged out. She pulled him close and wrapped his hand in hers. “Your father. What happened?”

“He…” Pathetic tears swelled in his eyes. “A young dwarf, a mage. Orlanda.” Ted gulped and pulled Cara into a hug. “He snapped her neck, right in front of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She held him tight and stroked his back as the memory played over and over in his mind and tears slid down his cheeks onto her shoulder.

“Why did he do it?”

Trembling, barely able to speak, he forced out the horrific truth. “To teach me a lesson.”

Her embrace tightened. “It’s not your fault,” she said, again and again, as if the saying those words over and over could make it true.

Eventually, the pointless tears ran out. He pulled away and wiped his eyes down to an embarrassing moistness. “Who did you lose taking the dryad?”

Her posture slumped. “Aidan,” she mumbled, staring at the ground.

Ted’s brow furled. Aidan? The young ranger came to mind. A nice guy, though maybe a little uptight. Good with healing.

Not anymore.

Pain twisted in Ted’s gut. “I’m sorry.”

“I could have saved him…” Cara sniffled, refusing to look up. “I chose the mission over him.”

He wrapped her in his arms again. “It’s not your fault.”

“What if it was pointless?”

Ted held her tighter. “It still wouldn’t be your fault. You did the best you could in the situation. That’s all anyone can ever do. Most don’t even try to do that.” Including me.

A chill ran down his spine. He broke off the hug and glowered across the clearing at the silent forest beyond. He hadn’t heard a single bird song or cry since they broke through the blockade. Even the Forest was dying here.

What the hell were they doing, crying over one death when a thousand more waited to happen?

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Let’s go save as many damned lives as we can.”

He led them back to Elivala and the other leaders. Ardic, despite having only just arrived, was already very animated in their discussions. When he spotted Ted, he nodded his head, beckoning him over.

As Ted approached, Elivala shot him a death glare. “Your attendance is not required, Lookout.”

A smirk peeked out behind Luther’s grim expression. “Mage Ted, Lord Tonvalbortdelan requests and requires your counsel.”

Awkward, but Elivala’s scowl was worth it. Ted bowed his head and approached the circle. “Thank you.”

Cara settled in close behind him, yet Elivala didn’t give her the same contempt. It seemed she was moving up the wood elven hierarchy. Good for her.

“You have significant experience with dungeon spawn,” Ardic said, acting as if Elivala wasn’t seething. “What would you recommend?”

All eyes focused on Ted. No pressure, just the fate of an entire village of wood elves.

“We can’t fight them head-on. They respawn, you don’t, and unlike me, they’ll come back as strong as ever. The dryads won’t show their faces in the battle themselves—if they’d been close, they’d have buffed the cannon fodder and you’d all be dead.”

“Cannon fodder?” Edana asked, tilting her head.

“The weaker dungeon spawn. They’re disposable, the dryads aren’t. They’re named—and they display fear. They’re sentient. That means we can reason with them.”

Elivala scoffed. “Evil cannot be reasoned with.”

“Evil?” Pain gripped Ted’s heart under the memory of the Destroyer ripping dwarves limb from limb. “I’ve seen evil, and I don’t think they’re that.”

Rage flickered across Elivala’s face. “You wouldn’t say that if it were your family dead in the dirt.”

No, I’d be fucking celebrating. He bit his tongue, holding back fiery anger. This wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We can’t let their sacrifices be in vain!”

“We have to!” Rage boiled in his chest, but the mission had to come first. Ted sighed and clamped down on the fire. “What’s more important, your guilt, or saving all those people out there?”

Silence. She knew the answer, just the same as he did. Not that it made it any easier.

Ardic, even more somber than Jeremy, spoke first. “Yana the Dragon. Destroyer of Tarkath, sworn enemy of the dwarves, and, if Ted’s right, dungeon spawn. Yet, without her, Valbort would have been destroyed.”

The pained expression on Elivala’s face twitched ever so slightly. “Was it easy? Asking her to save your people?”

He shook his head. “No. I refused permission, but Ted did it anyway. That’s why we’re alive today. Do not make the same mistake I did.”

“Fine.” She straightened back up, retreating behind a stiff mask devoid of emotion. “I believe we should stay and fight. Ardic suggests we flee via the Erinbar portal. What do you propose, Mage Ted?”

Ted tensed up. Fighting was suicide, but retreating would only delay the conflict, and time was not on their side

Why did this come down to him? Why couldn’t they save them-damned-selves for once?

All players are heroes. Be a Hero, become a Legend!

His blood ran cold, that nagging suspicion at the back of his mind rearing its ugly head again. That suspicion he so dearly wished wasn’t true, despite how much damned sense it made.

Why had Cara never left the Forest, despite wanting to explore? Why had they completely dismissed Cara’s pleas to withdraw? Why had he still not come across another Spellcrafter, yet Orlanda had chosen to become one almost instantly after meeting him? Why had there not been a war for 10,000 years?

His stomach churned, but he had to press on. “We evacuate the civilians first, then I’ll track down a dryad with Divination magic. I’ll fly in, find them, and then… then I talk to them.”

“And when that doesn’t work?” Elivala asked.

Ted’s heart grew heavier still. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. But, if it did, they had to be ready. “Then we will do what has to be done.”