Pangothean Legends: Chapters 15 and 16

Chapter Fifteen

The Real Story

         “Your name’s Knot, isn’t it?” said Ember, to the dorf, whose mouth hung wide open. He was so motionless it was hard to imagine he still breathed.

         “Knot!” moaned the dorf.

         “Yes, he is called Knot,” said Duhasst. “Though it is not his given name, which he no longer remembers.”

         “Well thank you, Knot,” said Ember.

         “Knot!” repeated Knot.

         “For not killing me, I mean,” continued Ember.

         “Your efforts are wasted,” said Duhasst. “There is very little personality left in him. He lost much of what he once was in the 819 years he possessed Meyta. All that remains is his intellect.”

         “Something you have in common, then?” said Ember, looking mischievous.

         Duhasst said nothing.

         “Well, Ember,” said Falroth. “How about that diary, then? I’m sure you’re a faster reader than me. Will you read it to us?”

         “Sure,” said Ember, and sat on the ground, resting against one of the area’s large tree roots. “Of course there’s a lot of real mundane stuff in the beginning. Stuff about exploring and making maps and such. It seems Argil was just as active and adventurous as his parents. But I think I found the important bits.

         “Now the entry starts with the letters VR (version?) and the number 1796. Oh, that must be a year, and the letters must stand for Veiled Reaches… or maybe not. Don’t know why an actual resident would call it 'veiled'. Anyway, then there’s what looks like the day of the year, 13, Seven’s March. Then the actual text begins…

It’s confirmed. We’ve lost contact with the colony at Elmenai. Several parties have been sent out to investigate them, but they have encountered severe weather and have not been able to complete the journey through the desert, which is thus far the only viable route to the colony. Perhaps the desert has proved more hostile than originally observed. We will continue to look into it, but for now it may be best to search out a better location for a long-term settlement. Perhaps somewhere on the western coast of the island.

         “That treacherous little…” started Falroth, red-faced and breathing rapidly. “Ancelin must’ve already been using his Meyta to prevent travel in and out of the Sand, so they wrote us off as a loss. Then he had us all to himself, so he could goad us into worshiping him where no one would tell us we were mad for doing it.”

         “Don’t be so hard on him,” pleaded Ember. “Didn’t you see how sorry he was?”

         “I’ll be as hard on him as I damn well want to!” said Falroth. “It’s his fault. All of it. Every single day of my life.”

         Ember shook her head softly and turned her eyes to the journal once more.

VR 1797

17, Three’s Wait

Explored the woods south of the site of the doomed colony at Elmenai today. I was startled to meet a strange man there. He wore a purple cloak and called himself a wizard. Said his name was Eamon.

He said he’d heard tales of my family’s enchanted sword, and greatly desired it for his own. He showed me an enormous sack of rare, flawless emeralds, and said that if I gave him the sword, the wealth of emeralds would be mine. As tempting as this offer was, I told him that the Meytalic Blade was a one-of-a-kind family heirloom. It was crafted for my father by the master craftsman Aiden Elbrock, out of pure Meytalica. I would not part with it for a hundred sacks of emeralds!

The wizard, however, did not seem disturbed by my refusal. He merely said, should I ever change my mind, to return to that very spot, and he would be happy to make the trade.

         “Well that’s different then, isn’t it?” said Falroth.

         “Yes, brother,” said Ember, patronizingly. “I expected the real story to be different. Didn’t you? The information we got from Ancelin already led me to think the sword might have originally belonged to Argil, not the wizard, like the story, as it is told nowadays, would have us believe.”

         “Tell me about this sword,” said Duhasst, who thus far had been staring quietly out toward the ocean.

         “What was it Ancelin told us, Falroth?” said Ember. “Oh yes. It was forged out of some newly discovered material, which I guess is called Meytalica. It seems it bonds with an individual’s Meyta, making it stronger.”

         “It sounds dangerous,” said Falroth. “If someone like Frost ever got her hands on it, she would be unstoppable.”

         “We can only speculate,” said Ember. She turned the page of the diary and continued to read.

VR 1797

18, Three’s Wait

I can’t help but think about the wizard’s offer. With all those riches I could have anything I’ve ever wanted. I would never worry about money and I could shower all my friends with the good life! But I would never forgive myself if I gave away my parents’ most prized possession. They left it to me because they knew I would take care of it and treasure it as I had treasured them.

VR 1797

6, Four’s Advent

I’ve been thinking about my parents’ sword a lot lately. What good has it really done me, anyway? It just sits there on the mantle, looking pretty, but doing absolutely nothing, meanwhile I’m scraping the bottom of my coin purse to pay for every lousy voyage. Mother and father may have taught me everything they knew, but it’s no secret I haven’t inherited the tenth of their talent for profitable exploration. Wouldn’t they rather I be happy and prosperous than poor and clinging to a legacy I’ll never live up to? Plus, they could never have imagined that their old sword would fetch such a price. I bet if they were alive now, they’d want to sell it themselves. It’s not as though I’m some kind of warrior. I’m an explorer, one on his last leg at that.

VR 1797

8, Four’s Advent

The wizard’s offer consumes me. I can no longer look at my parents’ sword without thinking about how much it cost me to keep it. I must return to the wizard. I must beg him to rid me of the sight of the sword forever!

VR 1797

2, Five’s Turn

Today I returned to the wizard. He appeared in precisely the same location, as though he hadn’t moved a muscle since our last meeting. I told him I’d changed my mind, and to my surprise he said he’d changed his as well! I plead with him to reconsider. At length, he agreed to honor the original deal, but I must agree to do one additional thing for him. “Anything!” I said. I couldn’t think of a thing I wouldn’t do to have the deal back, but all he asked is that I use a small part of the money to start a secret new colony, here, on the western coast of the island. Little does he know I had already considered starting such a colony, but lacked the funds! His only other request was that I never visit the colony myself. I agreed, handed over the wretched sword, and the wizard gave me a bag of emeralds even bigger than the one he showed me the first time! I’m rich! Rich!

         “And then it looks like he didn’t write another entry for several years,” said Ember. “Probably was too busy ‘showering all his friends with the good life’.”

         “What a fool,” said Falroth. “The man traded his legacy for a bag of green rocks.”

         “A bag of green rocks that you and I have sailed hundreds of miles to find,” said Ember. “And what’s your legacy, Falroth? Isn’t that what you’re running away from right now?”

         “Running away? What the hell are you talking about? I was banished!”

         “You’re still running. Think about it, Falroth. What is a legacy, really? It’s something that tells you who you are. You know, I am my father’s son. You can’t escape who you are, Falroth, no matter how far you go.”

         “And what about you? Your hair, your skin, your eyes! You’ve moved mountains to separate yourself from who you were!”

         “Oh please. Don’t try and tell me you didn’t think about changing your hair color the second you realized it singled you out.”

         Falroth and Ember glared at each other without blinking.

         “If Argil had no practical use for the sword, the deal should never have seemed unfavorable to him,” said Duhasst. “His only mistake was to never question the wizard’s motive.”

         “That’s a fair point,” said Ember. “Our culture has always made out wizards to be conniving and suspicious, but Argil may have had a different upbringing. I don’t know how much truth there is to what they say about wizards, but Argil should have asked himself what use a wizard would have for such a sword. It was probably more convenient, in his mind, to believe his intentions were innocent.

         “But anyway, let’s read on. Maybe the rest of the journal (there’s not much left), will shed light on things.”

VR 1805

7, Ten’s Halt

Damn you to The Pit, Eamon! This money has brought me nothing but shallow pleasures and shallow relationships. I pine for the simple gladness I once enjoyed! But I can no longer find it. The wizard has removed from me the ability to find fulfillment in life.

VR 1805

8, Ten’s Halt

I no longer doubt that each and every one of these emeralds is host to a curse, darker and more horrible than the infinite blackness of the Void. Yet they have become precious to me in a way that I cannot fathom.

VR 1805

9, Ten’s Halt

I’ve been thinking ceaselessly about the wizard and the rotten deal I made with him. Ever since that day everything inside me has turned sour and cold. I feel like I must do something drastic. Something to get back at the wizard. Something to show him what I think of him. And I keep thinking about his last request: that I should never visit the colony I helped create.

VR 1805

11, Eleven’s Rest

I have sailed the seas this past month. It is wonderful to finally catch the scent of adventure once again! I have docked my ship a short distance south of my colony, so as not to attract undue attention in case word of my arrival reaches the wizard’s ear.

VR 1805

12, Eleven’s Rest

I arrived at the harbor today, which I discovered is being called Jeweland. The colonists seem to be coming along nicely. I stopped in at a place where the colonists come to unwind after a day’s work, where I spotted some gentlemen playing cards. I was surprised to see they were playing for actual money. Coins! They’d actually already begun printing coins! And I was even more surprised when they told me the name of the man on the back of the coins. It was me! Well, almost. They’d absolutely butchered my last name, but it was certainly supposed to be me. I’ve never known another Argil. Then they told me Argil Underbrush’s story (completely oblivious to my identity of course). I just about lost it! Bits of it were true, sure. I HAD met a wizard in a forest, and I HAD funded the colony, but then there was a lot of cockamamie nonsense about a giant. But the REAL strange thing about the tale was that it seemed to paint me as the hero, when all I’d really done is killed things and got rich.

VR 1805

11, Twelve’s Revival

The more time I spend in Jeweland, the more I begin to feel uneasy about the place my story seems to hold in the hearts of these people. They think so highly of their mysterious benefactor. They hold him up as their golden standard. After all, Argil Underbrush was awfully strong, and clever. He overcame a giant and outsmarted a wizard. But in the end, he did it all for money. And the worst part is, they all seem to think that’s okay. They don’t see the pain it’s caused me. The emptiness in my bones.

I must leave this place.

I will return to the very last place I felt my soul at peace. I realize now, it is there that I also met my one and only true friend, Alper Zancor.

         “Alper…” whispered Falroth, thoughtfully. “Odd. That’s the name of the dorf that helped Manders and Frost get into Telmas.”

         “Alper is a surname,” said Duhasst. “Dorfs always give their surname first. It is possible that the Alper you speak of is a descendant of Alper Zancor.”

VR 1805

8, Thirteen’s Resurgence

I have met and discussed matters with my old friend, and he agrees with me. The wizard must have orchestrated events from the very beginning. While we cannot guess at how he hoped to gain from doing so, Eamon has seeded a country and given it a patron saint (me) who will ultimately cause it to become consumed by greed and governed by the rich. The only hope for the country is for me to fulfill the tale of Argil Underbrush, and slay the wizard before his plan succeeds.

Alper tells me that a mysterious tower, housing a mysterious blade, has appeared recently in the unpopulated region to the north. His description of the sword fits that of my old Meytalic Blade. I will set out to investigate this tower, as it most clearly has something to do with the wizard’s goal.

For now, I have entrusted the remainder of my treasure, as well as this journal, to the care of my dear friend. I know that he will keep it safe, and if anything should happen to me on my journey, he will see to it that my story finds itself into the right hands.

         Ember approached the dorf and bent down to peer into his vacant eyes. “Knot…” she said. “I think your real name is Alper Zancor.”

         “I…” started the dorf, “am… Alper… Zancor..?”

         “Yes,” she said, nodding with a bittersweet smile on her face. “Can you tell us what happened after Argil left you his treasure?”

         Before he could answer, Duhasst spoke up. “Do not waste time,” he said. “He speaks slowly and often repeats himself. I managed to get the full story from him once, but it took nearly sixteen hours to piece together all the facts. It would be better if I relay the tale to you myself.

         “He was explicitly instructed to ‘put the treasure where it would never be found’. As dorfs often interpret instructions in an overly literal fashion, he wandered the forest for many days in search of a place where the treasure would never be found. He debated endlessly with himself as to which would be the very best place to hide it. At some point while this was happening, the immense Wandering Meyta here bonded with him, and his power became a literal extension of his mental state at the time, which was to be strong, a friend of nature, and unyielding, but never moving.”

         “It’s just like a dorf, isn’t it?” said Falroth. “He couldn’t make up his mind, so it was made up for him. There were lots of dorfs at Telmas, you know, when it was being overrun, but not one of them lifted a finger in their own defense. It’s like they were all stuck in a never-ending hesitation.

         “At least Alper Zefta was a man of action. Sort of. I guess all I really ever saw him do was reason. And run away when I chased him.”

         “Dorfs typically possess remarkable powers of deduction,” said Duhasst. “But understanding a situation is not axiomatically equivalent to having the necessary faculties to properly respond to the situation. This is why the dorfs are so given to bureaucracy, as it is easier for them to function with a rigid set of rules. In the Kingdom of Goldale, many dorfs become advisers, administrators, or recently, architects, as these professions better suit their mental characteristics.”

         Ember pressed her lips together and screwed up her face. She looked to be straining herself to solve some intense internal problem. “What about you, Duhasst?” she said. “Why aren't you an architect or something? I mean you're obviously smart. You remind me of Zanbark the Dominating. But that man would be a goner if he were ever forced to try and survive alone in a forest. I just don't get you, Duhasst. What makes you tick?”

         Duhasst blinked, and then stared for a moment. “I do not know where to begin to address the absurdity of that question.”

         Ember rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just keep being mysterious and impersonal then. Whatever.

         “Anyway, I think I've got some good news for our Knotty friend.” She seemed to chuckle internally at her own pun. “See Alper, I don't think you failed at all, really. Argil's journal said he trusted you to put his journal in the right hands if anything happened to him. Do you remember him saying anything about that?”

         “The only instruction he remembers is to put the treasure where it would never be found,” explained Duhasst. “That was the problem that dominated his mind at the time he was overcome by Wandering Meyta. It has become his highest and most absolute charge.”

         “Well Alper, I think Argil would have approved of our aims. We intend to use this money to help undo the work of the wizard that deceived him. I think if he were here today, he would consider his request fulfilled, and quite beautifully at that. I'm sure lots of people have tried to steal the treasure before us, people who'd just have squandered it. Waiting 819 years to pass on the treasure to the right people was brilliant. Marvelously well-done indeed!”

         Falroth beamed at his sister. He marveled at the lengths she would go just to bring a little solace to a poor soul. It was difficult to tell whether her words made any difference. Although... Was it wishful thinking to imagine that the tree-dorf looked ever-so-slightly less downtrodden?

         “Listen, Ember...” said Falroth. “I... I don't know why we haven't talked about this before, but, well now that we have the treasure, there's really no reason for me to go back to Jeweland. I mean, you'll know what to do with the treasure better than I, and I've been meaning to go to Pangothea anyway, so...”

         “Makes good sense,” said Ember, nodding. “But what's your point?'

         “Well, what I'm trying to say is... I think we've got to say goodbye.”

         “Oh Falroth, you're priceless!”

         “I... what? What do you mean?”

         “Well I would've thought it was obvious. I mean, it's not just Manders' economy we're about to destroy; it's mine as well. And since I'll be seriously slighting all the other Nobles, I daresay it would be unwise to so much as show my face back there again.”

         “W-what? You mean... You mean you're...”

         “That's right, Falroth. The second I saw you I knew it might mean the end of life as I knew it. I'm going to stay in Pangothea with you. I'll send the Yacht back with the treasure and a letter of instruction for Salia. She'll handle the nuts and bolts, and hopefully she'll manage to eek out a decent living for herself once the dust settles.”

Chapter Sixteen

The Shadow on the Forest Floor

         Now confident Duhasst wasn't a danger, Falroth and Ember felt comfortable enough to talk amongst themselves as he lead them back through the forest. As before, he ignored them completely, never even glancing back to make sure they still followed.

         “So Falroth,” said Ember, her eyes looking a bit heavy-lidded. “I think, since I'm giving up so much for you, I think I deserve the truth about something.”

         “The truth?” said Falroth, incredulously. “Sister, I've been nothing but honest with you!”

         “Honest with me?” laughed Ember. “Brother, how can you be honest with me when you haven't even been honest with yourself? Now you say you were banished because you attacked Flameo and frightened Kathrina into fleeing to the Forbidden Wasteland. Fine. That's perfectly believable. But to think you did so without provocation... what do you think I am? Some kind of twit? Now maybe you think he didn't deserve it, and that's probably true, but I know you better than to believe that's the whole story.”

         “I... well, you see... I shouldn't've...”

         “No argument there.”

         “...but he...”

         “He did something really despicable, didn't he? I knew it!”

         “Not really. I mean it wasn't his... it was bound to happen anyway.

         “See, it was all on the day of our Second Test.”

         “I thought it might have to do with that,” said Ember. “Your twenty-first birthday was last month.”

         “You remembered?” said Falroth, astonished.

         “Remembered? I made it a national holiday! Fire Day. The festivities are quite amusing.

         “But let's not get sidetracked. You were saying?”

         “Right, well you'll remember how poorly I did in the First Test, I'm sure.”

         “Of course you did, Falroth. You were ten years old! Why the First Test happens when the elder brother turns eighteen, and the second doesn't happen until the younger brother turns twenty-one, I'll never understand.”

         “Whatever the reason, Flameo put me to shame," said Falroth. "For years afterward, no one payed much attention to me. Everyone assumed Flameo would ultimately earn the Eldership.

         “But I've been practicing, for the last couple years. I thought I had it figured out. I thought I could beat Flameo if I could learn to master my power better. I thought I had to learn to control my emotions in order to do it.

         “And it seemed to work. I could do things with my power that I'd never managed before, just keeping my head calm and free of thought. I was sure I'd win the Second Test.

         “Then, before long, Kathrina started to believe it, too. I'd always fancied her, you know, and one day she spotted me practicing. She said she'd never seen Flameo do some of the things I could do. She told me she thought I could win.

         “That night... she and I... at the Oasis...”

         “You don't have to elaborate,” said Ember, eyes closed, shaking her head emphatically. “I know what people go there to do.”

         Falroth's chubby cheeks had turned a deep shade of red. “A-Anyway... the Second Test came around, and...” He sort of trailed off.

         “...And you lost.” Ember finished for him, confidently.

         “I-How'd you?”

         “Please. Aside from the obvious embarrassment in your voice, I told you before, you're...”

         “...too soft.” said Falroth, his cheeks now red for a different reason.

         “Brother...” said Ember, pleadingly. “Flameo had a deep-seeded viciousness in his heart. It isn't something to aspire to.”

         “So that night, I went to the Oasis again,” proceeded Falroth, desperate to keep the topic away from his own weaknesses. “I thought Kathrina would want to, you know, console me. I thought I'd find her there. And I did.

         “But I also found Flameo.”

         “And the rest, as they say, is history,” said Ember, but her face was horror-struck. “Oh Falroth, I'm so sorry!”

         He shrugged, impassively. “Like I said. It was bound to happen anyway. Everyone always knew he was the stronger one.”

         “Did they? Always?” said Ember, wryly.

         “Yes, they did. What are you getting at?”

         “Well I just don't know that that's true. You told me everyone looked at you different, in the week following the incident.”

         “That's right. Because they knew I was responsible for Kathrina's disappearance.”

         “But how could they know? You three were the only one's there, right? Flameo certainly wasn't going to tell them what really happened, so all they had to go on was a missing bimbo and an injured Flameo. But seeing as there isn't anyone else who could've burned his face like that, I think they at least guessed that part of the story.

         “Don't you see? They realized you'd finally overtaken him! They realized you were the strong one after all.

         “I mean, if they're really honest with themselves, people know the whole three-test system is so contrived. When they found out you'd overcome your brother in real life circumstances, well it was like you'd just taken the Third Test early and come out ahead. Everyone knows that's the only one that really counts.

         “So when they looked at you differently, it wasn't because they blamed you. It's because they feared you! It's the same way they always looked at Flameo, only you didn't notice because it was never directed at you. You see? You'd finally become your brother, like you'd always wanted, but it left you in the same place as before.

         “Still on your own. Still without a friend.

         “But then you were so convinced of your own inadequacy that you had to go and confess. You sealed your own fate. Not the other way around.”

         Falroth gave a deeply confused frown. “What's a bimbo?” he said.

         “Oh I won't hold it against you that you fell for one,” said Ember. “It's not like you had anything else to choose from. Though, out of all of them, she was the worst. I guess that's why she became the village's number one prize.”

         For the rest of the walk, Falroth stayed very quiet.

         Kathrina was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. What was wrong with that? Was there something else to be desired? If she was such a bimbo, why did he find her appealing? Was it all part of the “legacy” he was trying to escape?

         

         When they reached their rowboat, Duhasst waited on the coast while they headed back to the Yacht.

         Once there, Ember spent over an hour composing a letter to Salia. She made sure to give detailed instructions on how to distribute the emeralds. She also included a bit about how to prove to Manders that his fortune was ruined, and a good deal more about how to survive afterward. Finally satisfied she'd said enough, she sealed it and handed it to the vessel's captain. She told him to sail back without her and give the letter to Salia. She had been invited to stay at the foreign lord's estate for a month.

         She and Falroth returned to shore and walked with Duhasst back to his hut.

         “Thank you for helping us, Duhasst,” said Ember.

         “Helping you was merely what seemed most logical,” said Duhasst. “If I am worthy of merit in anything, it is in how effectively I helped you.”

         “I see,” said Ember, wearily. “So we're not welcome then?”

         Duhasst gave a minute nod. “You may consider your gratitude acknowledged.”

         “Oh. Good... I suppose. Now would you kindly tell us where we can find the nearest city?”

         “The Dorfish colony of Hymdar is 6.87 miles south of my forest.”

         “Oh no,” said Falroth, emphatically. “No more dorfs. I've had enough of dorfs. How about the nearest human city?”

         “That is the City of Goldale,” said Duhasst. “It is north of here. To get there you must cross the Goldust Desert and ascend the Sovereign Steps. Traveling there requires a two day journey. It would be of mutual benefit for us to travel together.”

         “Together?” said Falroth, taken aback. “You mean you're going there, too?”

         “Yes,” said Duhasst.

         “But I thought you didn't leave the forest?”

         “In the last 12,297 days, I have not found a reason to do so. Today I have.”

         “And what is that?”

         “To investigate the whereabouts of the sword that once belonged to Argil Derbritch, and if possible, procure it.”

         “Excuse me? What do you want with Argil's sword?”

         “Your description has lead me to believe that it may be a suitable tool with which to prove my supremacy.”

         Ember couldn't hold back a laugh. “Your supremacy? Really?”

         Duhasst looked unfazed. “Yes,” he said.

         “But that's mad! Why do you need to prove your supremacy?”

         “Though I admit my supremacy ought to be self-evident, it has become clear to me that the purblindness of the common man necessitates that certain steps be taken in order to render my supremacy more apparent.”

         “I... okay. But what I mean is, why does it matter if you prove your supremacy or not?”

         “The truth ought to be known. Surly you agree that there is nothing more thrilling to a man than the knowledge of the uttermost extreme of a thing.”

         “Is that what you think you are, then?” said Ember, flabbergasted. “The uttermost extreme? The supreme being?”

         “The term is clumsy,” said Duhasst. “But in the interest of humoring you, I shall concede that it is an approximately valid description of me.”

         “You idiot!” erupted Falroth, advancing on Duhasst with clenched fists. “You're worse than Ancelin! At least he knew he wasn't really a god.”

         Duhasst remained calm and unworried. “If you continue to display aggression, I shall be forced to set myself against you.”

         “Falroth, stand down!” begged Ember. She stepped in and whispered into his ear, “We don't have any idea what his Meyta is like. This could be a very bad idea.”

         “We can't let him have Argil's sword,” said Falroth, loud enough for Duhasst to hear. “I don't care what kind of Meyta you've got.” He poked Duhasst in the chest. “I could take you on with two hands tied behind my back.”

         “Brother, please! Just stop and think.”

         “Hold it,” said Falroth, and took a step back. “What's he doing?”

         Duhasst's eyes were closed tight. His left thumb, index, and middle fingers were pressed to his forehead in a triangular formation. A look of blissful serenity seemed plastered onto his face. It was as though he'd suddenly banished all his worries to a faraway prison.

         “I don't know...” said Ember, looking terrified. “Do you think he could be having some kind of seizure?”

         Suddenly wide open, Duhasst's green, cat-like eyes came alive with sadistic pleasure. A beam of dim purple light had appeared between Duhasst's broad forehead and Falroth's chest.

         Random pin-points of pain erupted all throughout his body. He wanted to move out of the beam's path, but couldn't. Every muscle in his body was locked in a slight spasm. He could not even expel the outcry that lie trapped in his voice box.

         “What are you doing to him?” screamed Ember. “Stop!” She ran up to Duhasst and shoved him in the side of the head. The beam ceased the moment she made contact.

         Duhasst shrugged off the blow and maneuvered his left hand in front of Ember's face. A strange purple cloud entered her eyes. She squealed and recoiled.

         Meanwhile, free of Duhasst's attack, Falroth threw a right hook at Duhasst's jaw. Having just turned to face him once more, Duhasst reacted with extreme swiftness. Rather than dodge it however, he turned to face the blow squarely.

         It happened in the space of an instant. Falroth felt as though his entire arm had been yanked away from Duhasst by an invisible string. He was suddenly being drug through the air at incredible speed by his own arm. His elbow crashed into a tree, blowing off a huge chunk of bark and charring the impact point.

         Falroth screamed and cradled his arm. The bone wasn't broken, but it had been badly rattled.

         Before he could recover, he spotted something speeding toward him. It was a dimly luminescent purple sphere, about the size of an apple. It was heading for his face with the swiftness of a small bird. He guarded himself with his uninjured arm.

         He felt his skin burst open and his forearm snap in two. Moments later, dozens more purple balls came flying toward him. They were spread out, at different heights. It was impossible to avoid them all, so he just turned his head away and took them.

         Agony engulfed him, as bits of flesh exploded from his body. Bones cracked and shattered. When the onslaught ended, he lied writhing on the ground in the fetal position.

         He kept his eyes shut tight, daring not to afford himself a glimpse at his state. Surly his body was but a ripped and battered husk. Surly the ground was littered with gruesome chunks of torn, bloody tissue, muscle, tendon and bone.

         Surly he would be dying soon.

         “Falroth, are you alright?” he heard Ember ask. “What's wrong?”

         “What do you think is wrong?” he barked.

         “Well I have no idea. Obviously you're in some kind of pain.”

         “...What?”

         Falroth opened his eyes to see the pristine condition of his body. Instantly the spell was broken, and all the pain evaporated into nothing.

         Ember helped him to his feet. He stood, gawking at himself in bewilderment.

         “I... I don't understand,” he said. “I could have sworn I'd been torn to shreds! It felt so real...”

         “I felt something similar when he attacked me,” said Ember. “I thought he'd poked my eyes out. I was sure I'd never be able to see again. I think his Meyta tricks the mind into thinking the body's been damaged. He did call it 'mental' Meyta.”

         Shaking his head, Falroth finally gathered himself properly. “Is he still here?” he said, looking around. “Where's he gone?”

         “I don't know where he is,” answered Ember. “I think he ran off while we were both reeling.”

         “We've got to find him! Ember, we can't let him get his hands on Argil's sword. There's no telling what a head case like him might do with it.”

         “I agree, Falroth, but how are we going to follow him? I've gotten a bit turned around. I have no idea which way to go.”

         Falroth spun uncertainly on the spot. “There,” he said, pointing in a direction. “This way's north... I think.”

         At that moment, he felt a cold finger tap the back of his neck.

         “Anti-Heal!” came the darkly jubilant voice of Duhasst.

         A shock somehow seemed to hit Falroth's entire being at once. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, struggling to breathe. A sustained trauma crept its way down his body. A scattered, prickling pain shook his bones. His skin tightened. His heart raced. Several small scars around his body burst open anew, blood erupting eagerly out of them.

         “Is this real?” whimpered Falroth, before vomiting violently on the ground.

         “Yes Falroth, I'm afraid it is!” said Ember, who was now wailing on Duhasst with both arms and a leg.

         Unperturbed, Duhasst reached out to touch the back of her neck as he had done to Falroth.

         “No!” cried Falroth, and rallied enough strength to launch himself at Duhasst. The top of his head careened into the side of Duhasst's ribcage. Duhasst fell, his head lining up perfectly with a large standing stone.

         Falroth watch, and cringed, as the stone's pointed tip pierced the side of Duhasst's skull with a juicy crack.

         The air exploded in a piercing, dismal shriek. Falroth’s eardrums felt like they would shatter into a thousand pieces. The sound seemed to strike his very consciousness. Decades of sorrow and rage ricocheted throughout his mind.

        Now in the spot where Duhasst fell there was an enormous, undulating sphere of darkness.

        It wasn’t darkness in the ordinary sense. Not merely a lack of light. It was a pure, full, and infectious darkness. It spread darkness upon the world around it, in the same way a candle spreads light.

        There was silence for a moment. Then, with a sudden ferocity, the sphere exploded outward, and everything went black.