III. The Parting of Ways (Chapter One)
Deep in the Sunshade Mountains…
This cursed shard. There is no doubt this is the artifact my father attempted to carry to Amalhasu. Even after wrapping it in layers of cowhide the mere presence of it brings up memories of that oaf. It’s heavy. I feel it draining my power, my very soul, as I carry it through these forests.
“Blast this,” I burst out. “Nefexian has granted me a new life, and I have left my past firmly behind me. It must be this shard! What is it doing to me?”
I draw my sword and smash through the nearest oak sending splintered wood to the forest floor. In my anger, I had invoked some of my dark fire, and the entire tree ignites in black flames.
“Tch, tch,” comes a cutting voice, “that temper will do me no good.”
With a woosh, a column of air engulfs the tree—a swirling cloud of fine ash in its place.
“Nefexian.”
“Did I not tell you to manage your anger? Our proceedings become increasingly delicate, and I will not have your lack of control sabotage my plans.”
I keep my sword drawn and throw my wrapped package at their feet.
“It’s this shard,” I say. “I don’t know what’s come over me. My childhood…my father…it’s consuming my thoughts.”
“Put away your weapon, fool.”
Nefexian picks up the bundle, sniffs scornfully at the cowhide and extracts the shard with their bare hand.
“Do you remember whose shard this is?”
“Of course I do. Do not take me for an imbecile.”
“Then stop acting like one. This is a shard piece of Zaranoah, the Lifestealer. Even this small fragment embodies her deadly power. When your dear father carried it, I am certain there were times when he made direct contact, thereby sucking part of his soul into this shard.”
“I see. If that is the case, why are you holding it so?”
“Zaranoah’s power only affects lesser beings.”
My hand flies to the hilt of my sword again.
“Do not talk of my father like that.”
“I am disappointed. For you to still carry such ridiculous sentiments after all I have done for you.”
“It is not within my power to control these thoughts!”
“You continue to waste my time, Andromadus. I have more pressing matters. Like that overblown goldfish from the Adventurer’s Guild. He is perhaps my greatest obstacle of late.”
I glare at them with such hatred. They do not understand that I cannot become the mindless servant they wish for. If it means I have to rip out my heart so that I may better serve them, then so be it. But today is not the day. It is not my fault I cannot remove my father’s existence from my memories.
Nefexian’s eyes flash blue, deepening like ocean chasms.
“I said, calm yourself, Andromadus.”
I immediately draw back as their voice turns into that of the beast they originally are.
“I have told you time and again that your emotions are worthless. Cast them aside. You do not fully accept the gift of the Tether that I grant you.”
“My loyalty remains resolute.”
“You know nothing of loyalty!”
Nefexian suddenly launches a dark blue plasma ball at my chest, and my weapon flies out of my hand as I’m blown off my feet.
“Do you believe that you are better than me, Andromadus? Stronger?” I see the shadow of the many-headed monster rising above them as they stand over me. “Is that why you do not accept the Tether?”
“I do not understand… myself.”
Nefexian pauses and the shadows shrink back into their body. They extend a hand. I accept and pull myself up.
“I’m reminded of something,” they say. “Why does that goldfish sustain the same damage as you? And do not lie to me.”
I hesitate.
“The truth, Andromadus.”
“It was many years ago during my time in the Northern Mountains. Allard was leading a rescue expedition along the Northwestern Sea. I believe he was looking for a certain alchemist who was lost at sea. Little did he know I had already encountered his quarry. I had slain him in the night and taken his possessions. I had intended to wipe out Allard and his group, but…”
“But what?”
“But I failed to defeat him in combat. I had used one of the alchemist’s artifacts, the Alchemist’s Eye, to cast a soul-bind curse on us. The battle came to a draw, and we both retreated. I have buried the Eye among the tombs in the Settlement.”
Nefexian narrows their eyes.
“You have lied to me.”
“No, that is the truth.”
“I do not mean now. When we met that day on the Shipwreck Isles, you told me you had slain every whisker who had laid eyes on you in the Mountains.”
I remain silent.
“These continuous blunders,” they say, “are beginning to irritate me. But this may prove to be an opportunity.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m aware of the Alchemist’s Eye curse.” Nefexian’s eyes glow again. “Every blow sustained by either side is directly transmitted to the other, making it virtually impossible to face off in battle. You cannot kill each other without sacrificing yourself. I’m beginning to understand why you cannot accept the Tether while you are under another soul-bind. But perhaps it is better for you not to be Tethered.”
Nefexian continues to grin eerily.
“If you have something to say, say it,” I spit.
“Our greatest obstacle is Allard. If I kill you right now, then he is eliminated from my path.”
“You wouldn’t dare. I wouldn’t allow it.”
“It is not up to you,” they say softly. “But fear not, I only entertain the thought. You are a faithful lieutenant, Andromadus. And we have work to do. Zaranoah awaits within the dungeons of Wisteria. Was it not your dream to see the Western Kingdoms aflame? Come, we will make it a reality.”
In another part of the Sunshade Mountains…
“Ouch,” says Allard, rubbing his midriff. “Perhaps our friend Andromadus is receiving a beating. I only wonder by whom.”
“What is your next move, sir?” asks Soraya.
Dawn is on the horizon while the cohort is breaking down camp. Your fire has dwindled to small embers with only a single stream of smoke rising up to the limbs of the trees. You look to the medic tent where Quatal still lies unconscious. You worry for Burt, who hasn’t left his side for the entire evening.
“I was wanting to ask, lass,” says Allard. “I remember saying that I’ll meet you and the rest of Gladefish at Swiftgale.”
“Yes, about that,” Soraya says. “When we reached the fort, the Stoneheart baronesses had already left their posts with their armies and were on the march to Northfall.”
“So, they’ve chosen a side,” Allard says. “To be honest, if it were between Moonfabias of Stormhold and Melkezadek of Northfall, I’d choose the lesser evil too.”
“Well, not exactly. Amelia and Alunas Stoneheart wish for peace in the Western Kingdom above all else. The sentries left behind in Swiftgale say the baronesses only wished to convince Melkezadek not to march on the Barren Hills if Moonfabias were to make a move. It would be pointless to start a war over a rumor.”
“That the Barren Hills could be revived if the curse is lifted,” Allard says, nodding. “But it doesn’t seem like they only want to talk if the Stonehearts are mobilizing their armies. Perhaps they think to stop Melkezadek by force if need be.”
“Yes, Lady Tsuga believed so as well,” Soraya replies. “That’s why she sent some of the Gladefish troupe to track you down and recall you to Northfall as quickly as possible. She thought the combined presence of the Swiftgale armies and Sir Allard of the Adventurer’s Guild would be enough for Melkezadek to stand down from war.”
Allard sighs heavily.
“Unfortunately, I’ve lost an important piece of this puzzle. I do not think that the shard is in better hands with Andromadus than Moonfabias, but there must be some connection between Zaranoah, to whom the shard fragment belongs, and the Barren Hills. I also cannot imagine that Andromadus stands to gain anything from the Barren Hills, revived or not.”
“Remember he mentioned that he’s working for someone?” Burt pops out from the medic tent and sits beside you. “He said something like they wanted it, not him.”
“Yes, you’re right, Burt,” Allard says. “How is Quatal?”
Burt looks at his feet.
“He’s sleeping now. He woke up briefly before dawn, and when he saw me,” Burt sniffs, “he said that I still owe him a rematch.”
“You’re a good lad, Burt,” Allard says, clapping him on the shoulder, a little lighter than he normally would’ve. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on. For now, we head straight to Northfall and convene with Tsuga. There are quite a few things I’d like to—”
An ear-splitting blast of trumpets rings about the forest. You clap your hands to your ears as every whisker in the vicinity leaps to their feet to draw their weapons.
“It’s the Anthem of Wisteria,” Soraya says frantically. “Has Moonfabias found us?”
“Hold steady, minnows,” Allard growls. “Look.”
You follow Allard’s pointed finger and see a flock of cream-colored birds descend over the cohort. As they come closer, you realize they’re not birds, but fluttering pieces of parchment. Urgent whispers break out among the campsite.
“It’s a Royal Proclamation,” Allard mutters. “If you’ve lived in Wisteria, you’d know that Moonfabias sends at least ten a week.”
“Does this mean they know our whereabouts?” Burt leaps about with a fireball spinning in his hands.
“Snuff out the spell, you knucklehead, or we’ll really be found. A Royal Proclamation automatically reaches any whisker with a shard of end within the Western Kingdom, and we’re still technically within their borders.”
You reach out and grab the paper. You gasp in horror as you read:
Wanted. Dead or Alive.
Andromadus, the Dark
&
Allard, of the Adventurer’s Guild
For conspiring against the Crown.
Reward: 500,000 pieces of gold per head.
“Bless the Old Wizard.”
Soraya’s breaths come shallow and she clutches Burt’s shoulder for support.
“Sir Allard, what can we do?”
“Nothing. This was to be expected after the events of last night.” Allard draws his claymore and examines the blade. “Drat. The black beetle’s armor has nicked the edge. It’s a pity I didn’t slice his head when I had the chance.”
“But then, your head would…would…” Burt says.
“Aye. He is truly the bane of my existence.”
“How are you not hysterical about this?!”
“Shut up, Burt. It is neither the time nor the place.” Allard shoulders his giant sword and paces the campsite. “I cannot go to Northfall at any rate now, lest I jeopardize the entire operation.”
“Of course, sir,” Soraya says. “We will inform Lady Tsuga.” Her breathing is back to normal and she stands to attention. Her Gladefish colleagues gather beside her, nervous to hear Allard’s next words.
“Andromadus let slip the secret of the soul-bind between us.”
“The Alchemist’s Eye in the Settlement of the Dead,” Burt rattles off.
“Yes. It is the only path forward if there’s any hope left for this old goldfish.”
“Allard—”
“Soraya, I will be indebted to Gladefish yet again. Can some of your troupe carry young Quatal to Windrose? The Guild will nurse him to health before returning him to Amalhasu.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But Allard—”
“Burt.” Allard suddenly stands over you and Burt. “And Adventurer. You’ve done admirably, my Emberlings. But the time has come for you to decide what to do next.”
“What do you mean?” You and Burt exchange worried looks.
“I intend to toughen you both up to carry on the fine work of the Guild, but I never wish to put your lives in danger.”
“Excuse me, uh, Sir Allard, but I’ve never felt my life was truly safe—"
“Quiet, Burt. As I was saying, your safety has always been my first priority, and your next step will be in your hands. You may join me on a hike to the Settlement of the Dead and face whatever may be waiting for us there. Or…”
Allard turns and gives Soraya a meaningful glance.
“Or,” Soraya nimbly steps forward, “you can come with me to Northfall. I’ll introduce you to Lady Tsuga. Who knows, you might make fine Gladefish cadets yourselves. But don’t expect to skip basic training!”
“Thank you, lass,” Allard says with a rare chuckle. “They’ll be honored to meet Tsuga of the Glades. But withhold the membership. The Embers of the Phoenix can’t afford to lose any more members.”
“Exactly how many members have you lost thus far and how?” Burt says.
“Your final option,” Allard says, scooping Burt into a headlock, “is to accompany Quatal back to the Guild and see that he makes it safely back to Amalhasu.”
“Hmm, let’s see.”
Burt barely forms the words as he splutters for air.
“Travel through some of the harshest terrains in the Great Pond with a violent and possibly psychotic goldfish, risking both hypothermia and asphyxiation, or take a leisurely walk with either a real-life angel of the forest or my card-playing best friend. I know which option I definitely don’t want.”
Allard tightens his grip around Burt’s neck and his face slowly turns purple.
“The choice is yours, Adventurer,” Allard says breezily. “Don’t let this sad excuse for a whisker affect your decision. What will you do?”
You look from Allard, to Soraya, to the medic tent where Quatal still lies. You think for a moment, before stepping forward to join Soraya, but you gesture to Quatal’s tent.
“Wise move, Adventurer,” Soraya says. “The rest of Gladefish will have to go straight to Northfall, but I’ll accompany you back to Windrose, perhaps your Amalhasu friend will have awakened by then. You can say your goodbyes before we go off to meet Tsuga.”
“Adventurer!” Burt bursts out of Allard’s headlock. “I knew I could count on you.”
“May the Old Wizard bless you,” Allard says, shaking your hand. “I’ll be back before you know it. Not to disparage you, but I will be able to travel faster on my own.”
“Spit it out, old fish,” Burt says. “You’re gonna miss us.”
As you watch Allard chase Burt around and around the brightening campsite, you cast a worried but assured smile at Soraya. Strange and difficult times are surely ahead of the party.
“I think it’s Burt who’ll miss Allard the most,” she says with a laugh.