Session 30

Bloody, exhausted, and mentally drained I sat at the round table of Illium’s conference room. All around my friends lounged in wait, looking equally fatigued. Feeps bickered with my aunt until Killian entered and took a seat, rubbing his stubbled chin.

Rays of light slowly filled the room, and I turned to the window, realizing dawn had finally arrived. All night Illium fought against waves of undead with only one goal in mind: survive. It wasn’t until the dracolich had fled the city that the fog began to lift. District by district, street by street, we continued to purge the city of lingering undead. Eventually, all that remained was snuffing out fires, searching for survivors, and collecting the dead. Over half of Illium had effectively been destroyed.

Was that a roar? Radiant asked me, disbelievingly.

I barely registered the question. Um, yeah, Illium’s allied with the Metallic Dragon Conclave. They’re here to help if the undead return. A bit late, but I kept that bit to myself.

Radiant didn’t reply at first. Dragons though…

Just. Stop. I answered dryly.

“Taelim?” Killian’s hoarse voice broke me from my trance. “What did you have to tell us?”

That’s right. I called this meeting.

I cleared my throat and leaned forward, feeling all eyes on me. “Right...I, um, I know who was behind the attacks.”

Killian’s cerulean gaze locked with mine, even Feeps and Tylda stopped arguing and studied me critically. My friends already knew, the dracolich had taunted us with the name we recognized.

“His name is Harthoon...he’s a lich who serves Orcus.” I managed, acutely aware of my discomfort. I slowly, if reluctantly, admitted to our adventure in Orcus’s tower.

What came next I should've have expected. I even deserved it, but it took me by surprise all the same.

Killian got to his feet, his features darkening. “You’re telling me you pissed off Orcus, and he’s responsible for this?!”

“Not intentionally…” I responded in a subdued voice.

“Taelim!” Killian roared. “I’m through with this--with you constantly disregarding your responsibilities. You--the one who forced me into this life.”

“Killian…” Feeps tried in a low voice.

“No!” Killian snapped. “Make your choice, Taelim. Illium, or this life of adventuring with your friends. You can’t have both. Not anymore.”

Now I rose to my feet, flushed and furious. I gripped the edge of the table, trying to find the words. How far Killian had come. From the man who didn’t want to be king, to the leader putting me in my place. The worst part: he was absolutely right.

“Have it your way, Killian,” I replied quietly, turning and walking out of the room, ignoring the calls behind me.

“Taelim, please,” a different voice tried, slippers hurrying down the hall after me.

I stopped, sniffed, and tried to compose myself before facing my aunt. She saw right through me, placing her hands on my cheeks.

“Child,” Tylda began softly. “Forgive him, it’s been a trying time.”

I pulled away gently, shaking my head. “He’s right.” I held her gaze, having finally made my choice. “I’ll get the power gems back, and then...I’ll leave Illium.”

Tylda’s face fell. She licked her lips, hands clasped in front of her as she tried to think of what to say. It wasn’t the answer she expected.

“Your father...he wanted that life too…. It got him killed, Taelim.”

“And I nearly destroyed my home,” I shrugged. “Better me than them.” I turned, and this time didn’t turn back.

I spent the next couple of days doing what I could for Illium. That involved cleaning up my mess and attempting to rebuild, but mostly remembering the dead. Even Dagon had lost the woman he loved, the bar keep, Gertrude. He went all the way to Hestavar to resurrect her. That prospect forced me to beg a cleric of Erathis to check on Lysandra with divine guidance. She was safe, somewhere on the Material Plane, and that’s all I needed to know.

In-between cleanup I used every spare moment researching ways to find the power gems, wherever Harthoon had taken them. That was placed on hold for today, as I stumbled toward the remains of Klotonk’s house.

“Hey!” the gnome called. “There you are,” he said cheerily. “I haven’t seen you since…”

“You had something to tell me?” I cut right to the chase, staring at his broken home and trying not to feel guilty about it.

“Right…” he frowned, then waved me over and took a seat on a pile of rocks. “See, I’ve been having these dreams lately.”

“About?”

His normally chipper face grew somber. “A dark room, a pool of blood…” I think it’s related to Orcus.”

I threw up my hands helplessly. “I’ve been trying to find leads…”

“That’s just it,” he said. “I think this place...is somewhere in Illium.”

I cocked my head. “Describe it to me.”

Klotonk did, and it was the street and style of housing that caught my attention. “I recognize the neighborhood. Should we go?”

“Yes, but Maziel won’t be back until tomorrow. Also, Dagon’s still in Hestavar. I’m not sure he has any intention of returning.”

“Alright, then tomorrow. Beck’s been trailing me at the castle, so I think he’s in. He was useful during...that night…” my voice trailed off. Then, “Still no sign of Minerva or Munari?”

Klotonk shook his head. “But I think they're fine. It’s hard to kill a dragon and a demon.”

“I’m sorry about your house, Klo…”

“Taelim, you really shouldn’t blame--”

I waved the comment away. “I really do just want to leave.” I shook my head. “I’ll come back in the morning.” I began to walk away.

I had lied. I returned later that day when I knew Klo was helping in Eagle District. Guilt made me. Moving the earth beneath the rubble, I built him a tiny cottage above his secret lab crafted entirely of stone. It certainly wasn’t luxurious, but it was better than nothing. Satisfied, or at least less rueful, I left until morning.

The city of Illium was huge, naturally I wasn’t expected to know every inch of the place. That’s where the locals came in. We were guided toward the house Klotonk dreamt about, but stopped besides a slender alley where it should have been. When we questioned the neighbors who lived besides it, every one of them swore a house was there. Just not now.

I eyed the alley, then looked at the party. It was just me, Maziel, Cosmo, Klotonk, and our new bard, Beck. We hovered at the alley’s entrance, as I studied the gnome’s face. He furrowed his brows, and I picked up on his feelings. Something was wrong, and it came with the feeling that crawls down your back and threatens to kill you.

Klo got to one knee, muttering something. Then the runes appeared. Warily, he prodded at one of the symbols, the rest of us just sat back and watched. In moments he had the pieces rearranged entirely. They changed shaped and formed two words: Death House.

Suddenly, a slender home materialized before our eyes. It was dilapidated and unkept, unlike its neighbors. Then again, the city had seen better days.

“Shall we enter?” Maziel asked, arms crossed, cooly considering her options.

I laughed uncomfortably, then glanced back at my broken city. I waved them on, “Why not?”

A long foyer with a blood-red carpet greated us. On either side were two worn wooden doors. At the far end, behind a stone alter, a banded door barred our way.

Cosmo stepped lightly across the room, inspecting the lock on the banded door, trying and failing to get it open. The rest of us made to follow, but our feet were stuck in place. Like glue, the carpet had seized us, and a surge of energy sent tendrils of pain up our legs.

A laugh echoed around us, then a familiar voice spoke. Harthoon.

“You know, I had respect for Viceak. You’re no Viceak.” If Harthoon was watching, his eyes were wandering, and they found their target. “It took me a while to figure out who you were, gnome--Doresain hid you…. Someone raised in the feywild who knew the name of the Raven Queen. You came to us, didn’t you?”

I turned to Klo, and he bore the same shocked expression: How did Harthoon know? Klotonk was, of course, the keeper of the Raven Queen’s name, but only we knew that. Now, we were a target because of it.

“You won’t get it from me,” Klotonk said determinedly, “over my dead body.”

Bristling with pride, I wanted to slap the gnome on the back, but we were still very stuck in place.

“That can be arranged.”

Harthoon’s presence vanished.

That’s when the demons spilled forth from the doors on either side, their numbers overwhelming our own. I shifted into a giant scorpion and grappled with two, still fastened to my spot. The battle proved a unique experience, fighting to the death while unable to move. Somehow, we survived. That’s when the carpet released its hold, the door frames collapsing on either side. The single door ahead swung open slowly.

“We can still leave,” Maziel offered, almost hinting.

“No we can’t!” Beck piped up. “I already tried the front door.”

Silence filled the moment.

“Then time to see what’s behind door number three,” I said at last, staring down at my feet. “Also, if we survive, I’m coming back for this carpet.”

The rest of the house proved relatively uneventful, and by that I meant nothing tried to kill us. It’s what cowered in the corner of a study that forced us to a stop. There, beside a bookcase, was an imp. We filed into the room, weapons drawn, and closed the door behind us. Its shaking only worsened.

“I-I’m, ah, actually here to help,” the imp squeaked, practically plastered to the wall.

“Oh really, who sent you?” Maziel growled.

It lifted a long, gnarled finger in protest and grinned feebly. “It’s actually against my contract to say.”

We collectively folded our arms, and the imp hurried to explain. “Don’t hurt me! Let me prove I’m helpful.” It clambered up the bookcase, and pulled out a particularly tattered tome. The entire shelving unit swung open. The imp jumped down with a flourish.

“So, why shouldn’t we kill you?” I asked. “I mean, everything in this house wants to kill us.”

“Because! We have a mutual enemy.” the imp blathered. “Well…you and my...er, contact.” It reached out its hand. “Please, allow me to regenerate your wounds.”

“That’s a pretty hefty spell.” Klotonk commented, equally wary.

“As I said,” the imp continued. “A sign of good will from our mutual friend. You’re about to face an enemy below.”

We all exchanged glances, but I gingerly reached out and took the imp’s hand. At once I felt the soothing sensation of restorative properties flowing through me. If we were going to face something downstairs, at least my body was ready.

The imp chuckled and bowed. “We sincerely hope you succeed in your endeavors. Good luck!” With that, it vanished.

The rest of us eyed the dark stairwell, then we pushed ourselves inside. At the bottom was a large cellar where candles flickered around a ritual circle. At the center was something I recognized with a gasp: a power core, one of the four titan’s hearts.

I lunged forward, but my Maziel seized my collar. We both stopped and eyed the caster in black robes. He bore a pendant of Orcus and smiled our way while he continued his work.

“Guys...is that what I think it is?” Klotonk asked, pointing a shaking finger.

We followed the direction to the reason why this ritual was taking place in the first place. There, connected to the power core, was a massive phylactery bearing the symbol of Orcus.

Holy. Shit.

The caster threw up his arms, elated. “Orcus thanks you, Illium, for your sacrifice--”

“We have to stop this!” Klotonk shouted.

A cloud of noxious fumes appeared and billowed our way, choking us. Maziel and Cosmo took to taking shots at the caster, while Klotonk began an incantation of his own.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the silver torc I had had since I was kidnapped. Bolting forward, I took advantage of the chaos, and rushed at the Orcus cultist. When he went to block Klotonk’s spell, I slammed the collar around his neck.

He dropped to the ground, unconscious. The fumes dispelled at once, and the rest of stared around uncertainty.

A different laughed echoed around us, and another figure stepped into view. This time we all froze in place at the face we recognized: Bargle, the wizard from my father’s tower.

I turned to Maziel who seemed equally shocked. “Impossible,” were the words that escaped her lips.

Bargle stretched out a hand, but it was Harthoon’s voice that spoke from a void in space. “Did you honestly think that would work, Taelim? I helped your father make these collars.” A single word was spoken so fast, I thought I missed it. Glancing back, I knew my friends hadn’t heard the word because it hissed from the collar on the cultist at my feet. It was the key to breaking the seal. The torc shattered, and the cultist’s eyes snapped open.

Bargle stepped toward the power core, grinning. “Now if you don’t mind. We need to destroy the city and resurrect our god.”

“Don’t…” Klotonk’s voice called out desperately, drawing Bargle’s attention.

The gnome was holding a peculiar bottle in his hands. Inside what looked to be violent storm brewed. “Don’t,” Klotonk repeated, voice trembling. “If you try...we’ll all go down for it.”

I could see the hesitation in Bargle’s body as he eyed the bottle, evidently recognizing what destruction was within. He smiled faintly, if timidly. “You wouldn’t...it would kill all of us.”

Klotonk glanced at me, and despite myself, I shrugged as if granting permission. There were worse things than death. From the corner of my eye I could see Maziel and Cosmo backing away slowly, but we didn’t have the time or space to flee, and they knew it.

Klotonk straightened, holding the bottle out. If it fell, it would shatter. “You can try me, but I suggest you just leave.”

Bargle chuckled, glaring at the gnome. In a flash he threw open his hands, shouting out a spell, but Klotonk had already embraced the worst.

The bottle fell and shattered. With an explosion of magic, a violent storm burst forth. The shock waves rocked the building, sending all of us slamming violently against the wall. The candles went out, a crater replaced the ritual circle as objects went flying all around. A deadly storm filled the room, destroying all in its path, and Death House collapsed on top of us.