Chapter 15: The Test of Gold

Chapter 15:  The Test of Gold

Smoke wafts around the makeshift tent, coiling in the air and filling it with that peculiar musk.  The tabac oil from the hookah has been scented with a dozen competing, yet pleasant odors, and the three men and one Succubus are all trying to produce the most sexually provocative figures with the exhaled smoke.  That the men are winning seems to be starting quite the round of friendly ribbing.

I lift the knife and throw it, missing the makeshift board by some five feet and hitting the calendar nearby.
Julian took no time in laughing at this.  "Hells, Val, what has you so distracted?  You missed so bad, you hit next week."
"Not quite."
"I'm just sayin', you might want to look at the board next time."
"Don't need to," I start as I turn to look around the bar.  Sure enough, she's there drilling a hole in the back of my opponent's head.  He lifts up his knife and aims, giving me a chance to perfectly time the drop, "Not so long as that Ogre is watching you."  His arm pulls too fast, and the knife flies wide.

He collapses back onto the seat next to mine.  "Hey," he starts quietly, not looking in my direction, "think you could beat her up for me?"
I pat him on the shoulder.  "She's just looking for love, friend."  I get up and start pulling out the knives as he pulls out the standard cry of "why me."

I stop as I reach the calendar and the last of the knives.  It landed true, centered on the red X that marks tomorrow's date.  The date of the operation, and the seven year anniversary of the day that I lost any other option but to become an adventurer.  I drop the blades on the table as I head out, stopping briefly to lean toward the Ogre and say "He's all yours."

I step out into the cold, dry air.  The sky is the darkest shades of grey blended into swirling whorls.  Each step sinks into the dust of crushed bone that covers every hill in a ten mile radius.  I look out to the west, and to the jagged, black, claw-shaped keep that appears to reach upward into the sky.

The Castle Vigilant, along with the Castles Just and Defiant, was one of the few remaining beacons of resistance at the end of the last war.  They were the only places where the human defenders held off the last upswell of mamono before the war-paladins turned the tide and massacred their way to the demon lord's castle.  One million mamono crashed against this place, and yet it fell to a single man.

My next step lands on something hard, and I look down to see a piece of bark.  It's blackened with ash and age, yet a stripe of dark red runs along the surface.  It reminds me of that day.

---

I run when I see it.  The piece of plastic, half-covered with leaves and dirt.  Pulling it out, I see that it's stopped working.  Either the battery went out, or the dampness got inside the casing.  A patch of ground is still scraped barren next to where I found it.  Was she sitting here, watching it, waiting for a response?  Waiting and hoping that I would answer her, and tell her that I loved her.

The thought brings back a fresh wave of pain and self-hatred, but I don't have time for either.  She can't have gotten too far, and if I sleep then she'll just make more ground.  I can't let her go.  Not like this.

---

I was nowhere near the tracker I am now.  I was just a boy, trying to solve everyone elses' problems and my own at the same time.  There's a momentary urge to deny that I was ever that naive, but I know that I was.  I snap the piece of bark underfoot and continue on.  The hill next to our encampment is steep, and the ash collapses in waves to make the walk even more arduous.  When I finally crest it, the view isn't much different, either.  Under this rotten sky it's practically impossible to see anything aside from the hills and cliff face we'll be marching toward.

I sigh when I feel the slight flickering of my flame.  "Preparing for tomorrow's mission?"
A disembodied voice, deep, yet feminine, answers "How did you-"
"Demonic energy.  I was raised around it.  Let me guess, Succubus?"
A pair of footprints appear on the ash before the figure, dressed in Zipangese clothing, fades into view.  The mask and bladed tail give me the answer.  "Ah.  Well, I was close."
"It is a rare skill you possess," notes the Kunoichi.  "I ask again, how did you know?"
"You, and especially your magic, exude demonic energy into the air.  Demonic energy increases the amount of spirit energy men nearby produce."  I lift my lantern slightly, "And this fire burns spirit energy."  It's an old spiel, and one that I haven't used in a while.

There is a long pause.  "You will be a difficult target."
I raise an eyebrow.  "Will be?'  Should I be worried about the mission?"
"No," she answers in monotone.  "I will execute this mission first.  When it is done you will be my mark."
I should've guessed; it's been a week since the last one.  "Give up."
"I will not.  I watched you for three days before I received word of this mission.  I know of your loneliness and pained dreams.  Your hair has turned grey from the stress of being unloved.  Men should not live without wives.  I will be yours."
I turn back to the woman, staring into her unblinking, unemotional eyes.  I smile.  "The grey isn't from stress."
"You are too young for it to be natural.  If it is not stress then what is it?"

I tell her.

---

"That bad, eh?"
The healer stares at my chest, a mournful expression on her face.  "I'm sorry, mister Trevor; I've never seen anything like this.  It's as though the mana conduits in your body are losing the ability to produce life energy."
Life energy.  That nebulous force that separates the living from the dead.  Her hands twitch and trace strange runes along her temple as she manipulates the magical sight that probes my form.  "It's so strange.  It's as though they've burned out from overuse.  I've seen it happen to a mage once, but he had essentially drained from himself for spellcasting everyday for months.  There's no way you could've done that."

I won't tell Evette.  Neither of us knew at the time, and I won't make her suffer by telling her what she did purely by accident.
The woman finally lowers her hands as the cyan glow fades from her eyes.  "I'm truly sorry mister Trevor, I just don't know how one would even go about healing such a thing."  She turns and grabs a piece of paper and pen from the desk.  "I'm going to send you to the college.  They study pure magic and its manipulation, and they may have researched this more-"
"Don't worry about it."

She looks back up from her pad, blinking and uncomprehending.  "Mister Trevor?"
"How much time do I have left?"
She shakes her head slowly, "I'm sorry, I can't," she starts, before wavering under my gaze.  She sighs, "Maybe ten years.  That's the roughest estimate.  I could be off by years."
"That's all that I'll need."  I turn to get up, but stop.  "Actually, there's one other thing you can do for me."

"Do you have the number for the Society Revenir?"

---

Even through the mask I can see her face grow tense.  "How many years ago was this?"
"Almost seven."
She considers this for a moment, brow furrowed.  "If you were an incubus-"
"I would have more spirit energy, not life energy.  The strain of producing more mana would actually lessen my lifespan, not increase it."
"And that is why you are alone," she finishes.  I don't feel like correcting her.  "I see.  It is a rare affliction you possess."  We both fall back into silence for a time.

I'm the one to break it.  "What will you do next?"
"I will find another worthy of being my husband."
"If I might suggest, try Julian.  He's the one in the grey silk robes.  Smartest mage I've ever met."
Her eyes narrow by a hair's breadth.  "Is he your enemy?"
I almost bust out laughing.  "Him?  No.  Hells, he's the only one I trust to take along for a mission."
"Then why?"
Now I laugh.  "Because he's my friend, and I want the guy to be happy.  Besides, if you go now you can be the one who kept an Ogre from hounding him."
She hesitates for a moment before a cloud of ash bursts around her.  Her voice calls out from it, "It is a rare outlook you possess."  The winds pick up, scattering the cloud and revealing her absence.

"Yeah, probably."

I start the slow trek back down the hill.  I'm not going to find anything else up here but more suitors.  Even if I could see the tower perfectly, our enemy is too subtle a thing to reveal some obvious weakness without it being a trap.

---

"You're shitting me."
"I'm not, mister Trevor.  You, and a handful of other expert adventurers and hunters have been selected for a joint mamono-human strike against his tower.  The objective is to find him, kill him, and then to destroy what our mages call a 'phylactery."

Hells.  A lich.  A pre-mamono, genuinely monstrous lich.  I shake my head weakly, "How?"
"According to our researchers, it was just a matter of time.  Without demonic energy to transform them afterward, any mage of sufficient skill could perform this," he pauses to look at his report again, "Ritual of Endless Night' and become one.  They'd just need the proper rituals, components, and the willingness to do it."
I pause to consider this.  Even with the scarce knowledge of prehistory, we still have tales of liches.  They're the most twistedly evil of the monsters that came before the transition to mamono.  As I silently try to recall what I've heard about them, the paunchy bureaucrat continues, "And a nasty thing, from what I've read.  The only ritual component that our scholars are entirely certain is required is, uh, yes, 'the blood of an infant, slain by its own mother."  He shudders.  "Terrible."

"What's the pay?"
His eyes narrow as he straightens himself to try to look down on me, despite being two feet shorter.  "If money's all you care about, you can be assured that the government of Megalos is willing to reward each man and mamono with as much wealth as you could ever need-"
My voice is flat as I cut him off.  "Eight hundred thousand platinum trade bars."
His jaw goes slack.
"I've earned half of that already.  I just need the rest."
He blinks and collects himself.  His voice is hushed as he asks "What on earth could you possibly need that for?"

---

I make my way to the foot of the hill and turn back to the encampment.  We each have our own tent in which to prepare for tomorrow.  Mages meditate, the monks continue their training, and adventurers and soldiers hone their gear.  I don't do anything.  I've never needed to.  My skills aren't like theirs.

I enter the poorly lit room and tie the flaps closed behind me.  Hopefully between the separated camps and the guards between them there'll be some peace and privacy.  The single worn leather pack is stuffed under my bed, carrying the only items I'll need for tomorrow.  I pull it out and brace myself before opening it.

The scent is overpowering.  It's sweet and succulent, somewhere between the spice of vanilla and the savoriness of honey-roast.  It's an effort of will not to reach in and let the sudden wave of hunger take over, but I stay my hand.  I can't touch it yet.  Not yet.

---

"And you know what this is," the Vampire in modern, professional business attire confirms.
"I do."
She pulls open the leather business pad on her lap as she beams, "Excellent.  I happen to have a list, including personality traits, likes, dislikes, and so on for at least thirty women who would be delighted to-"
"That won't be necessary," I absent-mindedly state as I turn the thing in my hand, admiring it from different angles.  I lift it to my nose and take a sniff, noting the mildly sweet scent.  There's something else, too.  Like the slightest dash of spice.  It's hard to discern.

I look back to see the Vampire frowning at me.  "I'm sorry?"
"I don't need to see a list.  Or anyone else, for that matter.  This is all that I need."
She slowly closes the pad as she stares incredulously at me.  "Then what, you're simply going to hope for the best?"
I shake my head and smile.  "No, I've got a plan.  It's just going to take some time."
She raises an eyebrow.  "It's only going to last a few days, you know."
"I know a mage who has already promised to preserve it for me."

She takes a deep breath and lets it all out as a long, slow sigh.  "Mister Trevor, you know what we at the Society do."
I raise my eyebrows and nod.
"Then you know that we aren't exactly a charity organization-"
"And I have already paid well in excess of the normal costs."
"And," she pauses, "that we work toward very specific ends."
At this I smile.  "And I work toward the same."
Her eyebrow goes back up.  "Really," she ask incredulously.

"Yes.  If anything, I'm ensuring the Society's second goal far more than if I were to marry any of the girls on your list."

---

I open the pouches one by one, checking to see that all of my equipment is in place.  Gods only know what would happen if I got caught in a dungeon without fifty feet of rope.  I stop when I reach the smallest pouch near the top.  I pull it open only after hesitation.  There's only one thing I keep inside, encased in a small sphere of glass.  A single circle of white hangs suspended, checked by a dozen mages, yet none of them could ever find its owner.

---

"That's a cruel question, you know," she answers.  Her voice is barely audible and comes in short bursts, as though she were too tired to inhale fully.
"I know, but it's one I have to ask."  I look up from the ground to the mature figure resting on - and in - the split trunk of the willow in front of me.  Her verdant green hair is all but covering her eyes, but I can tell that they've come to rest on me with a tired expression.
"I see.  What do I know about the heartbroken?"  The slightest hint of dark, joyless humor slips into her voice.  "Well, more than most, I suppose."
"Please, I need to know."
And then I wait.  For almost an hour the Dryad simply stares at me, and I back at her.  "Very well," she answers suddenly, "but you most do one thing for me when I am done.  You are uniquely suited to do it."

I nod, and she begins.  "Heartbroken.  It's an oddly descriptive term, really.  One of the few that humans got entirely correct.  It hurts, you see, even now.  For most mamono, it happens when their husbands die and they are left widows.  For some, it is when they are abandoned and are unable to return to him.  For a few it happens when they are hurt so badly that they lose all hope of ever being loved."
I try to keep the pain from showing on my face.
"Any mamono can become heartbroken; only fools believe otherwise.  When it happens they flee as far as they can.  It's all but universal.  The ones who need spirit energy - thaumavores, I think your mages call them - they will go to places where the mana will support them.  Fey in the old forests, demons in the dark places of the world.  There they will wait in constant hunger, for the mana will only just keep them alive.  They will wait for the wound dealt to them to heal."

"For many, it does."  Beneath the veil of flower-wreathed hair I can see a single droplet of moisture travel down her flawless features.  "There are men who are as kind as others are cruel, and such gentleness is panacea for us.  But no such man has ever travelled along this one path."

She pauses, breathing with difficulty.  "It has been two hundred years since the inquisitors came.  They tore him from my branches and they killed him in front of me.  They spared me.  It was not out of kindness.  I have waited here since, unable to do anything else.  I have waited for happiness to find me again.  It has not.  I am too tired to wait anymore.  It hurts too badly."
The meaning of her words slowly begins to dawn on me.  I want to beg her to stop, but I can't.  I want to run away, but I can't.  She finally moves, lifting an arm to pull the hair from her face and look me straight in the eyes.  "I want you to help me rest.  I cannot do so on my own.  You must help me."  Her expression grows pained as she finishes.  "I want to die as he did.  You must do this one thing for me."  Her eyes slowly shift and I follow them to the flame of my lantern.

"You are uniquely suited to do it."

---

I place the lock back into the pouch and click it shut.  One of the pouches clinks loudly as I start moving the pack back into place, and I drag it out again.  I can't have it giving away my position or being a distraction.  I open the third pouch to find that a single copper has managed to slip in.  I almost laugh, thinking that the tiniest fraction of my fortune could have stopped me from doubling it.

A fortune.  It feels strange to call it that, but no other word suffices.  Men have killed for a hundredth this wealth.  If I wanted to I could've retired years ago to a mansion that would eclipse small counties.  I could swim naked in this and still be so well covered that a Werecat in heat wouldn't be aroused.

And it's not nearly enough.  I need twice this amount.

---

The paunchy bureaucrat blinks and collects himself.  His voice is hushed as he asks "What on earth could you possibly need that for?"  I look him dead in the eyes.

"To send a five-man party to search each and every tomb and crypt on the continent."

---

I'm ready.  Tomorrow I'll finish this mission, and then I'll be done.  Everything will be done.

---

I walk into the lavish office, admiring the tinted windows that cover two sides of the spacious room.  It's somehow slightly spartan, with only two chairs with an artfully designed desk between them in the shape of a sideways U-bend.  The woman on the chair behind the desk smiles, revealing a pair of canines much too long to belong to a human.  "Mister Trevor, I've been looking forward to this."  She extends a hand that I shake before sitting down.

"Tell me, what do you know of the Society Revenir?"
"It's an upstart owned by a reclusive Wight, and it makes big offers."
She laughs.  It's charming in spite of being so obviously affected.  "True, but we make certain to deliver on them.  We have but two goals here.  We wish to see that good men are not lost to the ravages of age and disease before they can ever know happiness."
"Quite the charity."  She smiles knowingly.  "And the second?"

"Well, simply put, to ensure that the undead do not go unloved."