B2 - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

1

The dungeon transported Lyn to the lip of the caldera. Looking down, the lava that she had once parted began to settle back into the depths of the summit. Looking out over the Valley of the Volcano, she could see very little. Rain poured from the skies, as if the sky was weeping in happiness at the declaration of Lyn’s coming efforts. She laughed and looked up into the swirling clouds above, letting the icy-cold rain splash against her skin. Her mana core, the power of the Destroyer – a deity’s power – was under her control.

She was not unstoppable and inexorable; Lyn knew well enough how fragile a person was. But with the bracer she had just discovered in the dungeon of Raevan, she could find dungeons with ease. As she descended the stone steps towards the bottom of the Valley, she began to formulate her game plan. There were three dungeons hidden within the Valley of the Volcano, and she could now locate them. One was deep in the forest to the southeast. The other, along the mountain to the west. The last one was the most curious location to Lyn – it was under Lynhold. Deep under it, a good three-hundred feet when she channeled mana into the bracer for the three-dimensional display.

An hour later she stepped onto the Valley floor. The Duskari and Newen were arrayed in front of the stairs, and they bowed to her. She stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do, as the rain continued to pour from above. They’re expecting a speech. Okay Lyn, you got this. She pulled Cataclysm in its sword form and lifted it up, allowing her mana to stream up the blade. The edge of lava shot upward as black energy swirled around it. Green-hued wind billowed as razor-sharp rocks limned the blade.

“My people! Stand! Raise your heads!” They did so, and she grinned, feeling an intense satisfaction at several thousand people responding to her instructions. This explains why Cecily acted like a bitch. It felt good being listened to, having people linger on your every word. “We will forge this world anew. Those who bow will find equality and prosperity. Those who stand in our way we will burn to ashes!”

There were cheers and a chant went up from the crowd. “Destroyer! Destroyer!” The chant continued for several seconds before Lyn lowered her blade, silencing the group almost instantly as they stared with reverence and anticipation.

“From those ashes we will build a new world. A world where we all will flourish. A world bound by my will. A world where destruction will come to those who oppose me!”

Once more, shouts and cheering. She gestured for silence once more. “We have work to do. First, this Valley, our home, our bastion of power must be improved. Listen to those in command, serve well, and you will be rewarded.” She let the mana flow cease and put the sword away as the crowd saluted, bowed, or just stared in awe. As she walked through them, they parted and some prostrated themselves with reverence, whispering prayers of thanks. They see me as Raevan, she thought. Their goddess of destruction, that saved them…returned in the flesh. The idea of being worshipped was odd, but Lyn couldn’t linger on that right now. She had work to do.

Lyn went through the large doors into Lynhold, followed closely by the twins. “Vael, Gael…convene the council.”

2

Thomas tried to leave the chamber, but the Vharthon woman – Stellas – stopped him. “Oh, Lord Thomas, my apologies, but Professor Misery specifically said-”

“Did you hear that proclamation just now? Two minutes ago?”

“Well, yes. It was odd, hearing my regional dialect of Triskol. Did you hear it too?”

“I think every person on Ghomar heard it,” Thomas replied. “I need to find Misty. Where is she?”

Stellas nodded curtly, “Well, I suppose getting up and walking a bit won’t hurt much.” She offered her arm to Thomas, and that’s when he did feel his legs shake slightly. He took the offered arm, and she began to walk him down the hallway. The halls were just as he remembered them when he was helping Misty develop her curriculum; austere, serene, with inscriptions along the ground to keep it free of dirt and detritus, inscriptions along the ceiling to moderate temperature, and inscriptions that would conjure water and even a paste-like food substitute. A marvel of Elenthir mixed with engineering. Thomas’ masterpiece of engineering combined his love of block-based building toys and his power as the Knowledge hero.

In exchange for those services, Misty had agreed to be his backup plan. Thomas had discovered an ancient death undeath spell while he was investigating the Ruins of Elent. A means to clone his body, set the age, and inscribe flesh itself. Not just tattooing inscriptions – that craft was rare but in practice – but scarification-style inscription. Something permanent. He could cheat death in this way endlessly if he chose – but he could only have one backup at a time. And with his current, weak, pathetic mana core? There was no chance he could pull it off. He would need someone to escort him through a dungeon to claim the core at the end, to have it override this one.

But none of those could compare to his hero mana core. And the knowledge that he had lost his amazing powers shook him to his center. Reflexively, he reached for his flask but found nothing. “Any chance you have whiskey?” he asked Stellas.

She looked at him with an odd, sidelong glance. “Professor Misery runs a clean campus. No alcohol here.”

Thomas nodded. The new body didn’t have an addiction like his last one, but he yearned for something to help with this feeling of uselessness. No. Stop it. This is a fresh start. You don’t need the booze anymore. Just Hec- He stopped, and Stellas paused alongside him, supporting him. The memories of his best friend ripped through his mind.

He had escaped Cecily and gone to Khrelardia. James had arranged for him to have a small house near the ocean, and as Thomas recovered from the mental control of Cecily’s spells, he cared for that wyvern egg. Every day, he would spend hours just rubbing its shell, knowing that the creature within could feel the heat and would hatch faster with a gentle warmth. The day that Hector hatched was one of the best days of Thomas’ life – the realization of a dream he had since arriving on Ghomar. One that he and James shared. Raising and taming a goddamn dragon.

Well, close to a dragon. Neither of them knew where an actual dragon lived. But wyverns were close kin to the creatures. Thomas remembered the child-sized egg cracking open, and the scaled, fuzzy snout poking out and nipping at his fingers. He scrambled to the kitchen to grab some jerky to feed the meat-eating creature, realizing he was out, and ran along the docks to buy fresh fish. He remembered coming back home as Hector waited, patiently, as if a baby chick waiting to be fed.

Thomas raised that wyvern along the docks, fishing from the edge of the water as he grew. Eventually, Hector got too large for the city, and Thomas relocated up the coast. And the whole time, he trained Hector. As the years passed, the wyvern grew more and more, until he was the size of a small house.

And then…Thomas rode him. The feeling of flight was indescribable. Nothing Thomas had done could compare to it, and with flight as a possibility, he could travel to the Ruins of Elent. The ancient city of the Elenthians was cut off from the rest of the world by mile-high cliffs in the middle of the ocean, their civilization built atop the pillars that pierced the horizon.

The two were all each other had and Thomas enjoyed his peaceful, hermit-esque life. He would spend hours reading the ancient texts and cataloguing the information in his own brain. It was still there, waiting to be sifted through. Whenever Hector wanted, they would play – Thomas had designed a durable ball that his friend could fetch – and the two enjoyed a peaceful existence. Calm. Serene.

But that was gone, now. Hector was gone. The pain and sorrow were overwhelming, and Thomas collapsed to the ground, sobbing as a kernel of hatred manifested in the depths of his soul. James…the man who killed him. Who cost him his best friend. The one who stripped Thomas of his mana core. The person who had begged Thomas for a ride on Hector, and who was given that opportunity along with his two sons.

I’ll get my revenge. I’m not going to take away those kids’ father, but you will lose something you love. Then, the thought hit him. If the Destroyer was Lyn like Volio said…she could do it. A plan began to formulate within his mind, and he broke out of his sorrow. Stellas helped him to his feet, and he wiped the tears away as he took shuddering, deep breaths. “I need to talk to Misty. Now.”

3

The council had formed up, and each of the different councilors gave their report.

Chancellor Vehenna was first. “The renowned diplomat, Rashanna, has been met by the squad you sent to escort her. They should be at Lynhold in two weeks’ time.”

“How did they communicate back to us so quickly?” Lyn asked.

Spymaster Velenna stood, “That would be my doing, your grace. Finala’s spellcraft has assisted in the rapid training and deployment of ravens, as per your instructions. Squads can now communicate rapidly and effectively.” She gestured to a woman next to her.

A slim Duskari who looked to be middle-aged stood up and bowed, “My Lady, it is a pleasure to serve you as your Keeper of Ravens. I am in the process of working alongside your Marshal to ensure a raven is bonded to an archer in each squadron, so that rapid communication may be facilitated. I request time to spend with you, your highness, to bond one such bird to you, that you may communicate your will to us.”

Lyn nodded, “Excellent work. Continue to train them up. And, yes, I would love a pet raven. When is the best time for this bonding?”

“We have several young ravens who are ready, with more eggs being cared for. We can do it at any time.”

“My thanks. I’ll let you know when.” Lyn looked back to Vehenna, “Continue with your report.”

“Of course. We are holding on any efforts to communicate with outside kingdoms and territories until Rashanna arrives.”

“That reminds me,” Lyn said. “How did you find out about this Vharthon woman in the first place?”

Vehenna chuckled, “I knew her grandfather, your grace. A traveling merchant who was not afraid to pay off the forces at Fort Watch to come into the Valley and trade with Newen and Duskari. He was a good, kind soul with no harshness in his heart. I’m sure his daughter takes after him in that capacity.”

Lyn tapped her fingers on the throne’s armrest. She hasn’t been thoroughly vetted, then. Very well, I’ll hold off on trying to engage in diplomacy with the surrounding kingdoms…but when this Rashanna arrives, I’ll need to have a long chat with her. She looked to the next councilor. “Steward Bhelarm, report.”

He bowed and began his report, “My Lady, we have the same money count as before. The Newen are moving their encampments to the exterior of Lynhold. Their skilled woodsmen have felled hundreds of trees, and more are coming down, as they expand and make room for the center of a city.” He pulled out several scrolls and reverently approached, handing them to Lyn. “I have drafted plans for the layout, your grace.”

Lyn unfurled the plans. They depicted a semi-circle with the fortress at the center – just like a keep in a traditional castle – with spokes alike to wagon wheels as the streets extend outward and form districts. This is well set up, but my main concern is class division by nature of districts being created. It made sense to have certain industries near specific stockpiles of goods, but she wanted the people to live near each other. “Ink and quill,” she stated. Bhelarm left the room momentarily before returning with the items. Lyn made some notes and then blew gently to dry the ink, handing it back to Bhelarm. “All of my citizens will live near each other.”

The way she had marked up the map indicated that in the ‘center wedge’ services, residences, and other shops and the like would be clustered. One wedge would be dedicated to industry, and the other to education and training. And if we can standardize schedules, then I can ensure that the different peoples spend downtime amongst each other. “What of our food situation?” She asked.

“Foraging is plentiful, your grace, as is hunting. Now that we know of the existence of this Northern passage, we will wait for the Diplomat, and then attempt to build relations with the Kingdom of Trisk to import wheat, grain, and other crops.”

Lyn nodded, “And the efforts to build a support staff for yourself?”

“I have no candidates for any of the positions yet, however,” he gestured to a young woman that looked like a female version of himself with a slightly narrower chin and nose. “Menora, your Antiquarian, has a report.”

The woman stood and bowed, “My Lady, we went through all of your previous treasury, and found inscribed items.” She turned around and picked up a small chest, bringing it over to Lyn before setting it down and opening it. “Your prior incarnation had two items with some value.” She lifted a cloak and laid it over her arms to read the inscription. “A cloak that, if my interpretation is correct, will enable you to fall from great heights without harm.”

Lyn read the inscription herself and confirmed that the young woman’s translation was correct. It’s not flight, but it’s something. Standing up, she gestured, and Vael picked up on the instructions, fastening the cloak to the armor. The cloak seemingly melded into the suit, as if it was designed to do so. First the bracer, and now this cloak. I bet that Raevan had several pieces of this armor that were split off or lost to the ages.

Menora then grabbed the second item and held it in front of Lyn. It was a blue adamantine…retainer? “And this appears to allow the user to breathe underwater.”

Lyn picked it up and read the inscription, “Interesting,” she muttered. “Did you try it?” She asked, looking at the woman.

Menora shook her head, “No, your grace.”

Lyn looked at Gael. “Fetch a bucket and make some water in it.” The Bodyguard did so, and Lyn slipped the retainer over her teeth before channeling mana into the device. She dunked her head into the water and, going against all instinct, inhaled. To her pleasant surprise, the water did not actually enter her mouth – instead, the moment it touched the item between her teeth, the water became air, and she was able to breathe easily. Pulling her head up, she put the item into her storage choker. “Well done. Thank you for your services.”

Menora bowed and went back to sitting behind her father, and both were beaming with delight and satisfaction. The father proud of the daughter, and the daughter eager to please her parent.

Lyn looked to Remora next, “Marshal. Report.”

Remora stood and bowed, Poweno right behind her, and Slanosh behind him. Their Military Advisors were not present. “My Lady, we have forces on the wall at The Dragon’s Maw. Forces from Fort Watch have scouted the terrain, but do not come within bowshot. However, we received an advance warning that an individual bearing your mark entered and is approaching Lynhold, escorted by a squadron.”

Lyn’s eyes narrowed, “Describe them.”

“A portly man, riding a horse. Bald head and smoking some herbal remedy.”

He went bald and got fat? Lyn chuckled. Smoking was something that had never caught on in Ghomar, as they had nothing analogous to tobacco or pot. Someone with her symbol and smoking? It had to be Brad. She nodded, “As soon as he arrives, notify me. What of our military as a whole?”

Poweno bowed, “In total we have a force of four thousand, five hundred. Primarily Newen, your Ladyship. They are not formally trained, and so the Duskari squadrons have begun efforts to train them further.”

“Forgive the interruption, Lady Rivers,” Slanosh stated as he stood. “But my people are better suited to archery rather than frontline combat. I have told this to your Marshal, but they are insistent on training us as frontline combatants.”

Lyn glared at Remora, and the woman shifted her glance to Poweno. Lyn shifted her gaze to the man. “Why go against the advice of the Strike Commander?”

Poweno frowned and crossed his arms – eliciting small gasps from the others in the chamber. “We need a frontline. Right now, we have none save Duskari. The Newen are more plentiful than our people.”

Lyn felt rage building in her chest. Her Destroyer core responded, and she could feel the mana seep into her mana channels. “You dare.” She growled as her voice dropped to that of the draconic tone. “You dare imply that my people are disposable?!”

“They aren’t your people, your gr-”

Lyn stood up and the air began to heat around her, Poweno snapped his mouth shut, and Lyn stomped from the throne to stand in front of him. “All who serve me are my people. I may look like a Duskari, but do not forget that I am the Destroyer. If you cannot put aside your bigotry to other races, then you will be stripped of your rank.”

Poweno frowned, turned on his heel, and left the room. The others in the council chamber stood, shocked, as the man turned his back on the equivalent of their deity. Lyn turned to Velenna, “You have my Assassin prepared, yes?” The woman nodded. “Good. Bolvon was what you called him, correct?” Another nod. “Then he has his first target.” Lyn returned to the throne.

Inside, she was torn. On the one hand, assassinating people felt…wrong. Morally wrong. But on the other hand, she could not risk a Duskari with knowledge of her organization going to another kingdom. And, you have the power of a deity of destruction. There’s no God in this world, just heroes and Destroyer. I make the morals. She leaned to Gael, “Follow him. If Bolvon cannot finish the task, step in and do so.” Gael nodded, and unquestioningly, strode down the hallway following Poweno. She looked to Remora, “Promote your own underling to write and read for you.”

Remora nodded and bowed, “My thanks, your grace. Poweno was problematic.”

“I can tell,” Lyn replied. She looked to Velenna, “Report.”

The Spymaster bowed, “None, My Lady. You already met Finala. I will fetch Bolvon now and notify him of your first target.” She bowed once more and left hurriedly.

Lyn looked around the chamber, “If there is nothing else?” The room was silent. She stood, “Then this council is dismissed.” She looked to Vael, “Follow your brother. I want Poweno dead before he leaves Lynhold. If this Bolvon can’t finish the job, then help your brother do it.”

Vael nodded and ran down the hallway.

Next Chapter >