I CONTINUED TO SCREAM his name until I’d nothing left to give. My fists made purchase with the earth, and I kept slamming them into the ground, over and over again, until little vines sprouted from the dirt and rooted my hands in place. I sat there and allowed myself to cry, held in place by the earth itself. Tiny daisies grazed my knuckles and I thought back to the teachings of Elder Sheatu.
‘Death is just the beginning.’ She said, tending to a withered plant. ‘And a new life is just around the corner. You only need to wait for it.’
But then I didn’t think too much about her words, from my sadness grew these vines and daisies. Who knew if we’d ever meet again, in this realm, or the next.
I pushed myself off the ground, drying my tears with my fingertips and joined the others. ‘We have to go back,’ I said.
Tarasque was slumped against a rock with her arms folded across her chest. ‘Back?’ she repeated, raising her eyebrow. ‘There is not going back.’
‘But Barcius is-’
‘Our comrade is lost to us now, there is nothing we can do,’ the fire genasi snapped, cutting me off. Her fiery tresses ignited. ‘These things happen, Saria. It’s just a formality of the job. We all knew what we were signing up for.’
I was silent for a moment, turning my back on my comrade before thinking everything through. I didn’t have to listen, I could make my own decisions.
‘We need to go back. I might be able to help him,’ I said, but even I wasn’t that optimistic to think I could pull him from his pact with God.
Tarasque exhaled sharply, ‘I said no,’ she bellowed with a primordial roar.
I bit my lip to prevent any more tears from falling before I turned my back on the group and ran as fast and as far as my hooves would carry me.
When I approached the crashing waves, I screamed out into the horizon. There were no words, just a burst of rage all at once, until I collapsed into the sand and sobbed once more.
The sun set on the horizon and soon night fell, only then did my tears start to dry. Waves licked my hooves, but still I didn’t move from my spot. I’d seen my comrades build a camp to spend the evening, but I was less than eager to join them. I couldn’t understand why Tarasque refused to let me help him.
Why did we all abandon him? He needed us and we failed him.
Barcius never made me promise I’d leave him if his plan succeeded, he only claimed to have it all in hand and if needed, we would put him down. I didn’t want to consider that an option, but he left me with no choice. Thankfully, the Goddess of Knowledge, Ioun, took over instead.
Late that evening, Mitztail brought me some stew and bread but I refused to accept it. He slumped down beside me.
‘How can mew continue his legacy if mew don’t keep mewr strength up?’ he asked. ‘This isn’t what he would’ve wanted.’
I sighed and said, ‘I know.’
We sat there in silence, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and watching the moonlight in the distance. Mitztail rested a paw on my hand and I held it, feeling myself well up again.
‘Join us when you’re ready,’ he said.
‘What about Tarasque?’ I asked, thinking back to the last time we spoke and how it’d been nothing more than an argument.
‘Don’t worry about it, mew are welcome. We’re a team, remember,’ Mitztail replied with a smile as he got up from the sand and dusted himself off. ‘Just try and eat if you can.’
I only nodded to acknowledge I’d try, but the overwhelming nausea put me off. I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to eat. I only wanted for the world to take a breath and for the sharp pain in my chest to stop hurting.
The night came and left, but I kept myself awake, training my eyes on the horizon and watched as the moon disappeared and the sun rose. I waited, the cycle repeated, and in that time I found myself wanting the stale bread the tabaxi had left for me. But after one bite I couldn’t manage anymore and although my heart weighed heavily, I knew I couldn’t stay here forever.
Barcius would’ve hated to see me like this. He would have scalded me for it. He never gave up, there was always something that could be done, even if we didn’t know it yet.
I stood, dusting the sand from my clothes and looked up at the cliffside. I decided I would rejoin the comrades I had left, and hold them close so I wouldn’t lose anyone else.
When I approached the camp, Tarasque shot me a cold stare before returning her eyes to the fire. She wasn't ready to accept my apology, not that I’d given any consideration to construct one in my head before coming to her. There was an awkward silence between us.
‘May I sit with you?’ I asked, gesturing to a tree stump. The fire genasi shrugged and I took this as her way of letting me back in. ‘I shouldn’t have said what I-’
‘It’s fine,’ Tarasque said sternly, cutting me off as she poked the embers with a stick.
A smile graced my lips as I took my place and trained my eyes to the fire. Silence befell the camp once more, a calmer presence that made me feel more at ease. Mitztail didn’t join us around the fire, instead he stood gazing out at the horizon strumming on his lyre as he hummed a simple tune. After what felt like hours listening to the calmness around the camp, my body started to wither, finally succumbing to my exhaustion.
Mitztail cut his melody short and came to join us around the fire. ‘We should do something,’ he said. ‘We should honour Barcius somehow. A memoriam of sorts.’
I bobbed my head to agree, ‘That’s a kind thought. What did you have in mind?’ I asked.
He smiled, his cat-like eyes glistening with promise, as he replied, ‘Nothing too big, something simple. Just a candle and a few spoken words.’
‘Let us wait till night full,’ Tarasque suggested and we nodded.
As agreed, we waited until the moon was high in the night sky and the navy blanket was decorated with a thousand stars. The silver sentinel shined down on our gathering at the edge of the cliffside. Mitztail had given us all a single white candle each and with a click of her fingers, Tarasque lit the wicks. We’d gathered a small formation of rocks to build a makeshift grave for our fallen comrade, a crude attempt but it did the job. Together we stood, each of us silently praying to our respected deities to watch over our fallen comrade.
‘Until we meet again,’ I said softly, touching the rock formation. Tiny vines and daisies sprouted around the structure. A single tear fell as I placed my candle at the base.
We returned to our campsite, where we shared a meal together in silence. We set up our bedrolls around the fire. I laid on my back looking up at the night sky, counting the stars until exhaustion found me.
My dreams were not pleasant. I thrashed around in my sleep, kicking and punching the earth around me. I first dreamt of the Darkling, of its body arched and impaled by my magic. Then I dreamt of Barcius, and watched him morph from his friendly and caring nature to the terrifying shadow beast.
‘Stop, Barcius, you don’t have to do this.’ I cried out in my sleep.
But the beast just grinned, sharp teeth installing fear into my gut. ‘Oh, but without Tharizdun, I am nothing. I am not whole.’
‘Let me save you, please.’ I begged. ‘Just tell me how.’
The beast scoffed, he was no longer the tiefling I knew, ‘I don’t need saving.’
I awoke in a cold sweat and my breathing shallow. It took me a few moments to realise where I was. I wasn’t back in the underground antechamber of Tharizdun like I’d imagined, but sitting on my bedroll beside a dwindling fire.
‘Oh, you’re awake,’ Tarasque said, holding a bushel of branches, ready to relight the fire.
I nodded, ‘Sorry, must have been a bad dream,’ I replied, pushing the blankets off and tidying away my bedroll.
The fire genasi gave a slow nod, ‘When you’re done, join us for breakfast.’
I looked over at the campsite, but saw no sign of our furry companion. I didn’t question his disappearance while I helped Tarasque with breakfast. We just carried on like normal, serving his portion up in his mess tin. We tucked into our own, while his meal was left to get cold.
Mitztail finally appeared, seemingly out of breath and doubled over in pain. He’d run here with urgency but why? His green eyes transfixed on something in the distance. ‘We have a problem,’ he said, as soon as he caught his breath.
Tarasque furrowed her brow, ‘What kind of problem?’ she asked.
A beat skipped, ‘It’s better if you see for yourself,’ he said, turning his back on us and gesturing for us to follow him.
We wasted no time gathering our things and making our way to the clearing, where the stone pedestal beckoned to us. The morning light sparkled off the hourglass, the timer set by the Grand Sorcerer for us to complete our trials. Not that it mattered now we were without Barcius, and the fact he’d failed the trial.
As I stepped closer, I found myself wondering why the sand wasn’t spilling into the bottom of the glass. Then it hit me, a golden puddle collected in the bottom.
‘We’re out of time,’ I muttered under my breath.
Tarasque stood beside me, her tresses igniting. She must have seen what I had. ‘How is this possible?’ She growled, ‘Barcius calculated it, we had enough-.’ The realisation hit her, Barcius hadn’t completed his trial.
‘What happens now?’ I asked my comrades. But they stood in silence. None of us had the answers for what comes next. We’d made a contract with Ser Raexius, but none of us read the small print, not that he’d given us the option to either.
The clear skies parted, thunderous clouds erupted above when a spectre figure appeared in the formation. The Grand Sorcerer, Ser Raexius was nothing but a head, chest and arms, reaching forward to touch the top of the hourglass.
‘And then there were three,’ his tone was mocking. A smile appeared on his lips as he picked up the hourglass, and admired the empty vessel. ‘It appears you are out of time, adventurers.’
Tarasque withdrew her greatsword, stepping in front of us. ‘You knew this would happen.’ Her words were less of a question and more of an accusation.
Ser Raexius clicked his tongue, ‘You should know better than anyone, nothing is guaranteed in this world, sometimes things require sacrifice,’ he said. ‘Remind me again, what happened with your friend, Cecilia or Verity?’
‘Do not speak their names in my presence,’ Tarasque growled. Her hair burned brightly.
The Sorcerer only laughed, mocking her reaction. ‘We had a deal, and you’ve failed me. Some adventurers you are.’ His words cut through me like a knife through butter, ‘You were supposed to be the best. An easy task for you all, you told me. But yet, you failed and one of your members gained a fate worse than death. Pathetic.’
He was right. We’d failed. We held three of the four sacred relics, and were one member down. We didn’t live up to the expectations we’d set ourselves. How would anyone else take us seriously after this? If there was an after.
‘The Ashen Order is no longer yours to control,’ Tarasque bellowed. ‘We are done.’
‘We are done, when I say we’re done,’ the Sorcerer’s thunderous voice illuminated the sky in streaks of blue. ‘After all, I still have a binding contract after all.’ He produced a scroll of parchment with a snap of his fingers the scroll unravelled before the fire genasi.
I peered over her shoulder and began skim reading. I picked up very few words, but none of them seemed positive. We had to complete our quest whether it was the original plan or something else of the Sorcerer’s choosing. We were in his debt until he released us.
‘We had an agreement,’ Ser Raexius said, the skies cleared, and a smile appeared on his lips. ‘You will not leave until your challenge is complete. As you failed the final gate and returned empty-handed. You must complete one final task on my behalf.’
The ground began to shake beneath our feet, a fifth gate rose from the earth. A solid wooden double door with chains wrapped around the arch. Claw marks ripped through the wood-grain and an eerie voice called from within.
‘Enter the gate and you will find yourself in the Labyrinth of Feyciaria,’ Ser Raexius bellowed. ‘A realm of my own making. Here lies your final trial. Complete this and you will be free from our contract.’
No sooner had the words left his lips did the apparition in the sky dissipate. Tarasque gave a primordial roar after him, calling him all manner of curse words.
Mitztail drew his hardee to the tip of his nose, ‘I guess if this is the only way to earn our freedom, we would be fools not to take it,’ he said.
‘We've come this far, we should see this through to the end,’ I added, placing a hand on the fire genasi’s shoulder, but she shrugged me off.
‘And what if this is another one of his tricks?’ Tarasque asked, ‘Did you not consider that possibly?’ She turned to face us, her brows knitted firmly together. ‘Do you not tire of these games?’
‘But like Mitztail says, this is our only hope,’ I said. ‘Do we not owe it to Barcius to try?’
Tarasque exhaled, then reluctantly said, ‘Fine.’
We stood before the gate, with the fire genasi placing her hand against the woodgrain. I reached into my pouch and pulled out the fluorite crystal. I smoothed the surface of the stone with my thumb, hoping to see my brother or Barcius in the reflection for reassurance. But neither of them surfaced, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we were making the right decision.
The gate opened and a swirling vortex welcomed us. Together we entered, with one thought resting heavy in our minds.
‘Onwards to our freedom.’
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