There is no greater sacrifice than spilling one's own blood for the lives of others.
Carmon Dagarth, Blood Lord
"They're a lot bigger than I thought." Sitting in the saddle of her horse, Sheala stood gawking at the sudden transition from the foothills to the mountains they'd been seeking.
The evolution of the landscape to sheer faces and peaks towering overhead was more than a little jarring to her senses. Each wall of stone stood as what seemed to be a steep and difficult climb unless a more straightforward path could be found through the seemingly impenetrable terrain.
"They're mountains," Brentai said. "What did you expect?"
"I don't know." There was a certain whine to Sheala's voice as she waved her hands at them. "Something less mountainy, I guess."
Korg let out a snorting laugh, which drew a sour gaze from Sheala in response.
Sayra dismounted her gelding to give the situation all due consideration, her horse remaining calm despite lacking a rider. "There's a reason why the shrine built to house the Tear of Earoni was constructed here," she said mater-of-factly.
"So what's so tough about finding this temple? Can't a dragon just fly over and spot it from the air?"
"All is not as it seems." the silver-haired elf explained, looking naked without her usual blue-scaled companion on her shoulder. "There is a spell over this land. A powerful and protective illusion. One that required many elven mages to construct and complete. One not only capable of hiding that which should be seen but also one with the power to make the mind believe the hallucination by twisting and fooling the other senses as well."
Sayra approached the formidable impediment to the continuation of their journey.
"I don't understand," Sheala griped.
"It's really quite simple. With a standard illusion, if one sees a rock where there isn't any," Sayra said, "and one would move to pick it up, there would be no sense of touch to confirm the rock's existence. The deception would be discovered upon attempting to retrieve the item." Reaching out her hand, the elf touched a wall of stone containing various layers and shades of gray and brown before her. "But here, that which is not real is given substance. I can feel the grain and the coarseness of these rocks even though they are not truly before me."
"So why can't we just go through?" Gregory dismounted next, leaving the mount Reane had bequeathed to him to graze in some stubs of grass. The seer, having since departed on some mysterious journey, had obviously no further use for it.
"If the mind believes in something, then there is nothing left to fool."
Brentai leaned forward in his saddle. "But you're supposed to be able to find the way. That's what Reane said."
"Yes. Well, not so much me, but the fairies I am connected to. Since they are intimately joined to the land. They are not fooled as easily as we are." Sayra drew forth the pendant, like Sheala's, she had carried since before this journey began. It was glowing and lively as she moved it in front of the face of seemingly all too real stone before them.
As she performed the ritual, everyone could see how what laid before them changed as it fell within the sphere of the medallion's influence. The mountain was still before them, but it moved to new locations as she walked with her medallion held before her.
Continuing to drift along the wall, Sayra was eventually quite a ways away from the rest of her companions and having still found nothing but solid stone. The elf turned to them and beckoned them to follow. "Come. We will search for the way. It may, however, not be nearby."
"Great." Sheala's muttered curse wasn't so quiet that no one else heard. "What I wouldn't give for a map right about now."
"Nothing worth having comes easy," Brentai replied to her frustration as they urged their horses on and began to follow and plod along.
Their otaur companion began to follow while her uncle's former man-at-arms collected the reigns for his mount as well as the elven First Mother's and walked the distance. "The Tear is too powerful to allow it to be claimed easily," he said. "If it weren't for this?" He motioned to the stone that was both real and not real. "Lord Hedric would have reclaimed it long ago. And used it for his own ends."
"It makes sense that something with as much power as this stone supposedly possesses would need to be secured. Still, that does make one wonder. Why was it kept in a temple in Roatsburg for all those years before Lord Hedric's reign? You know, if it was so dangerous to let people have access to it?"
Gregory shrugged. "Before that damnable Blood Lord and his demon queen decimated the lands, the power of the Tear of Earoni was respected. The priests were able to guard it without fear that someone would misuse it. And that as long as they possessed it, they could use it for good."
"People are arrogant," Sheala replied, drawing a look from Brentai and Gregory. "They always think they can control things not meant for them. That's what my mother used to say about the Priests of Hitithe and the Tear. She talked about how if they hadn't been so pompous, they could have stopped all this from ever happening—stopped Lord Hedric's ascension to power."
"What did she mean by that? Was she insinuating that the priests had some hand in all this?"
"It's just what she said." Sheala shrugged. "Maybe she explained it further at one time and I just wasn't listening. I don't know. I was never really that interested in the aspects of religion. And now, here I am, fulfilling one of its prophecies."
"If you're all done waxing philosophically?" Sayra stood at a particular location along the illusionary wall up ahead. "I believe I have found us a way in."
Holding her medallion up, it revealed a schism in the stone about four feet wide heading into the mountains.
Sheala's surprise rolled out as a groan of words. "I thought it'd have taken longer."
An eyebrow raised, the silver-haired elf asked, "Did you want it to?"
"Since when do I get what I want?" The Child of the Storm's horse shuffled its feet, almost as though nervously dancing before the fissure in the stone. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"
Gregory handed the reins of Sayra's gelding to her, and the elf mounted up. Nudging her mount forward, she squeezed between the opening and led while the others followed.
Buzzing with agitation, Sheala's medallion wouldn't let the Child of the Storm ignore its calls. "Something's wrong." She looked around. But it was hard to tell what was real and what was an illusion with the way the surrounding rocks were constantly shifting in the presence of Sayra's necklace.
Darkness had nearly consumed the mountains, making it more difficult with the only significant light coming from her and Sayra's pendants.
"I sense it too," Sayra replied. "Like we're being watched."
Gregory drew his sword at the statement. "Where?" The pass they followed had widened slightly, but was still not much more than ten feet across in most areas. Although the current segment was closer to fifteen.
Brentai plucked a dagger from his sash, even though both Sheala and Sayra kept their weapons sheathed despite the warnings of danger.
"That, I don't know." Sayra did not call the party she was leading to a halt, continuing to urge her horse onward into the deepening night as Korg brought up the rear, battle axe resting on his shoulder. "But it has been going on for some time."
"Can't your fairy friends tell you something?" Gregory asked. "And how is it that whatever is watching us isn't confused by the illusion like we are?"
The path before them kept shifting, while the way they had come reverted to its deception once out of the influence of Sayra's medallion. The enchanted wayfinder affected a sphere about thirty feet in radius around them.
"Because what is following us is not above ground, but rather below it," the elf informed the group.
"Below ground?"
"Yes. Just beneath the surface. I do not believe that the illusion our senses are subjected to extends beyond the ground into the subsurface."
"How is it possible that whatever it is is following us without being able to see us?"
Sayra stopped and dismounted. "I believe we should make camp for the night?"
Korg snorted. The meaning obvious even to those who didn't speak otaur.
"I concur. Here?" Gregory questioned, drawing his own mount to a halt. "With something unknown lurking out there?"
"Is it hostile?" Brentai asked.
"Most likely," Sayra replied. "I sense that it follows us out of a hunger."
Sheala scrunched up her nose. "Ew. Not really in the mood to become a midnight snack, myself."
"Nor am I."
"Not a lot of room in here." The surroundings begged Sheala to state the obvious. "Not for a fight. I guess the good news is, there's only so many ways it can come at us."
"No wood for a fire," Brentai announced their latest problem.
"Probably shouldn't start one anyway to give away our position. I don't think we're in deep enough yet." Then a thought came to Sheala. "And would the illusion hide it?"
Sayra shook her head. "I don't know. I do know that the horses could use a break. As could we all."
Sheala threw her leg over her saddle and slid off her gelding's back. "Fine. Maybe whatever it is that's tracking us will lose interest by morning." She removed her bedroll from her saddle and tossed it to the ground. "Looks like no hot meal though tonight. Just bland old hardtack or dried fruit." She recovered a piece of the bread from a bag on her mount and gnawed on it after removing the waxed paper wrapper. After realizing the flavor was still non-existent, she returned it to the paper and into her saddlebag. "Second thought, I don't think I've got an appetite. Top-notch rations, my ass. I'm sure that this crap will last until the world ends, but it tastes like shit. So, what's the watch schedule going to be?"
The question asked, Gregory offered his professional opinion on the matter. "Knowing that there's a potential threat? Two and two, I think. When possible. Sayra and I can take the first watch. Then Korg. And Sheala and Brentai the last until dawn."
Even Korg seemed weary, dropping his battle axe and plopping down against the chasm wall.
"Agreed." Sayra sat on her own bedroll after removing it from her saddle. Her mount looked to be dumbfounded when it tried to graze on the barren and rocky ground and found not a blade of grass to chew under its hooves. That turned to annoyance as the realization there was nothing to snack on sunk in. Sayra held up some dried apple for it to have instead.
Sheala rolled out her bedding on the unforgiving ground. "Well, please make sure I'm not eaten tonight by whatever is out there. OK?" she snarled. "Although I don't know I'll be able to get much sleep knowing that we've got an uninvited guest and this chilled air." She also shivered a bit in the cool spring night and she laid down.
Brentai finished unloading his things, hauling them on his shoulders. "Aw, I'll come keep you warm if you need—" The rest of his statement was cut off by the sudden sounds of deep snoring Sheala was now blessing them all with. He laughed. "So much for not being able to sleep, huh?"
Once Sayra had finished fighting her own exhaustion and drifted off to sleep, unable to finish out the watch, Gregory decided to not bother waking the elf. He figured he'd just stay on guard and make the rounds as long as he could while allowing everyone else to partake in some much-needed rest.
Korg was soundly sawing logs, drowning out the snores from Sheala while the light from the two medallions worn by each of the women was mostly smothered by the way they were laying on their bedrolls. But Gregory's eyes had adjusted well enough to see in the dark.
Everything had been peaceful since they made camp, despite talk of a presence lurking nearby and beneath their feet. Gregory had assumed the intruder was likely some species of rock serpent; large worm-like creatures that burrowed passages in the rocks of the mountainous regions of Geiha. They had smaller ones on Fimmirra, but he knew of the existence of larger species living in other lands beyond the sea of his home.
Mostly harmless to people, the biggest threat they posed was landslides whenever they breached the surface of the stone, sending boulders tumbling down the mountains. Or when the massive creatures accidentally fell on someone. People weren't their food. The minerals in the rocks were. But they did often take an interest in the refined metals used for swords and armor.
With that in mind, Gregory had pretty much given up on discovering anything more dangerous as he continually paced from one end of the dispelled illusion to the other, hitting solid rock at either side. He assumed if it were another one of Lady Noranda's demons, like the black armored and horned monster they had recently fought, it would have already attacked them.
Upon his most recent circuit of the camp drawing to a close, bits of loose stone clacked down the sides of the cramped crevasse they had been traveling and caused him to start. It wasn't the first time during the shift that such had happened, but he still reacted just the same as all the previous occurrences.
Sword out, he looked up to see if there was anything there to be seen. Nothing.
He sighed, sheathing his weapon once again and laughing at his own jumpiness. Turning back to his mind-numbing task, Gregory had taken just one step. That's when he felt the weight descend on to his back with an impact that was more than just uncomfortable. An instant later and his neck flare with pain.
Screaming out, King Turon's former man-at-arms dropped to a knee under the force and wrestled with whatever was on him. All while the horses rose up in a cacophony of panicked brays, but had nowhere to run. His attacker's hold was firm while wetness coursed down onto his chest.
Blood. He could tell just from the feel and the smell.
Grabbing at his attacker, Gregory grasped something that felt like hair. He pulled and pulled, without success. It wasn't until he heard Korg roar and rush to help, ripping his assailant free with a tearing of the flesh at his neck and amplified the pain he felt, that the attack ceased. But his blood loss increased exponentially.
With all his might, the otaur tossed the squat form from his companion, watching as the snarling dwarf-like form sailed into the solid wall of illusionary rock at the edge of the influence of Sayra's medallion.
Gregory clutched for the wound that was forcing him to remain on the ground. Every pounding beat of his heart sent more blood coursing from the gaping hole in his neck as he tried to stem the tide. But to no avail.
He'd never come face to face with a dwarf before, but it was the only explanation for what had attacked him and what he saw as his attacker recovered and came at him again. As though it hadn't been bothered one bit by being thrown into a wall. Gregory didn't realize they were so gray, or so vile looking, with such beady eyes and a disheveled appearance.
Blood hanging on his attacker's lips, in the hand not tending to his injury, Gregory had his sword out and ready to match Korg's battle-ready posture with axe drawn and clutched in both hands. The swordsman managed a staggering swipe that kept the snarling dwarf at bay.
"By the Fates!" Sheala screamed, rushing in, her own sword also at the ready and the creature halting its planned attack as the odds became less favorable. "What they hell is that thing?"
"Dwarf, I think."
Sheala feinted toward the creature, consumed with what appeared to be primal instincts and a lack of rationale emotions. "I didn't think they looked so ugly."
Korg bellowed an explosive battle cry at it.
"Damn thing bit me," Gregory said, pain flaring all through his neck.
"Fuck!" Sheala exclaimed, finally taking notice of the extent of Gregory's wound once attention was drawn to it. "Sayra?"
"I'm on it," the elf said, kneeling next to their injured companion. After a quick look at the wound, the concern she exhibited could not be downplayed. "That's from a bite?"
"Yeah." Trying to stand, Gregory fell back to his knee as Brentai finally joined them in assessing the situation.
The dwarf hissed, now even more outnumbered, displaying a pair of short fangs.
"Shit! Ain't no way that's a dwarf!" Sheala backed up as the ghastly creature took a step forward and then back to test her resolve.
"It is," Sayra confirmed. "Or, rather, it was."
"What do you mean, was?"
The determined, and now cornered, dwarf continued to test them, but never entirely engaged. It snarled and snapped its fangs once more.
"If I didn't know better," Sayra said, trying to use both her hands to keep blood inside Gregory's body with limited success. "It looks like it's become infected with the Crimson Plague."
"The Crimson Plague? You mean like the disease Blood Lords, like Lord Hedric, pass on to their victims when they feed?"
"Yes."
Sheala swiped at the creature as it became a little too bold and came a little closer. But it avoided her blade with deft agility and fell back. "Gods damn that bastard."
Gregory forced himself to his feet, still holding his wound. "We've got to kill it. And, unless one of you knows a cure, I'm going to say that I'm infected now too." He drew his sword. "So, I'm going to skewer this little fucker, and you guys are going to make a run for it."
"You're in no shape—" Sayra tried to plead with him, just as the dwarf lunged.
"Go!" He pushed the elven First Mother back and out of the way, not concerned for any sense of decorum.
Sayra stumbled backwards, and Gregory rushed forward. His blade piercing the infected dwarf's gut, he drove forward, towards a wall of stone that approached him while Sayra moved back and her medallion lost its influence over the space.
"Gregory!" Sheala called out as both he and the dwarf were suddenly entombed by the stone that filled in where once the crevasse had been. "No!"
Sayra recovered and moved back into range. But as the rock vanished once more, there was no sign of Gregory. Or the dwarf. They were both gone.
Sheala rushed to the wall of stone and swung at it with her silversteel blade, sending a shower of sparks.
Korg did the same with his axe.
"Sayra? Bring him back!" Sheala shouted.
"I—I don't think I can." The elf took a few more steps to peal back some more of the illusion, but there was still nothing. She turned to check the other extent and to make sure she wasn't about to do the same to their horses and gear and stopped.
Sheala advanced into the now reappeared section of the crevasse. "What happened?"
"They became part of it. Part of the spell, I think." The elf dipped her head and sighed. "He's gone."
"No."
"There was nothing we could have done for him, anyway. His wounds were too extensive. He would have died. And been reborn as an abomination like that poor dwarf." Sayra forced herself to look away from where Gregory had vanished from. "It's probably for the best."
"People don't have to keep dying!" Sheala protested the logic the elf presented to try to sooth her concern.
Sayra exhaled. "I wish that were true." She went back to her bedroll and began collecting her things. "I suggest we begin moving again. Gregory sacrificed himself for us, so that we can carry on. Let's not let that sacrifice be in vain."
Sheala growled something unintelligible, slammed her sword back to its home, and then followed it up with a promise. "I swear, if one more of you even thinks about dying, I'll kill you myself."