B2 – Chapter 19: What was once Lost

The figure made some weird, cooing noise, and as Tristan looked at the gory painting, he saw that it was drawing some type of large, spider creature in the blood. Obadai came up behind him and put his mouth right up to the elongated part of the helmet holding Tristan’s ears. “It’s a husk. The real thing is long dead. This is just its remains – nothing inside it.”

Tristan held up his left hand and bladed his stance. He pushed his essence from his still-spinning crucible into his arm, and pressed the fingers together, tucked the thumb on the top, and began to incant the words for Frost Flurry under his breath. “Ich beschwöre die Wut von Eis und Frost herauf: Ich forme Splitter, die mein Ziel durchbohren und aufschlitzen.” (I summon forth the fury of ice and frost: form shards that will pierce and slash my target).

The spike started small and then grew. Tristan poured essence into it until he felt himself gasping for air, and his armor receded. The spike was the size of a horse, and he let it launch right at the center of the creature’s back. The icicle rocketed forward, skewering the creature as it gave a single shudder before fading to dust. The icicle embedded itself into the gory painting.

“Good job,” Obadai said as he patted Tristan on the shoulder. “William, keep an eye out while Tristan recovers. I’ll use my divination upon this robber’s corpse and see what secrets may be unveiled.”

Tristan sat down and began trying to breathe in in measured, even breaths – but he ended up panting instead. Felicity flew down and sat on the ground next to him. “Good kill,” she said.

Tristan looked at her and smiled, “Thanks.”

“Who are you talking to?” William asked.

“Felicity, you can turn off the invisibility I think.”

She looked up at William, shrugged, and dropped the invisibility. “I’m Felicity, Tristan’s fairy dragon companion.”

William let out a gasp of delight that seemed to mix with a squee of joy. “You are so cute! Like a puppy mixed with a baby deer!”

Felicity’s grin was as wide as it could be, and she looked at Tristan. “See? That is how you compliment someone.”

“I’ve said you’re cute before,” Tristan replied. “And even complemented your beautiful feathers before.”

“True. But you could do it m-o-r-e,” Felicity replied with a devilish grin.

Obadai walked over to the group with a stern expression. “This person was not just any rogue, thief, bandit or brigand. She – it was a her – was a member of the Twin’s Blades. A thieves’ guild. They are an elite group of operators who seek out the most difficult challenges that will earn them coins. They have an island fortress in the Verdant Archipelago; a city-state called Tristana’s Towers.”

“Wow, you are a powerful diviner,” William said.

Obadai smiled at the compliment, “I discerned that this one was stationed out of Jewel’s Point and learned of the appearance of a Delve recently. They followed you, waited until you made camp, then waited more until you returned, exhausted. Stabbing you and grabbing the loot, they ventured down here through the tower, depositing their Buggorf in a flask as a trap for pursuers. Then…they met their end to that thing.”

Tristan stood up, “Well, that answers the mystery as to why the thief entered the Delve, but not why they did not slay the rest of the Pathfinders while they slept.”

Obadai pointed to William, “This one made quite the ruckus when he was stabbed. The rest of the camp woke. Doubtless, all would have died if not for your perseverance, William.”

The young man frowned as his face went pale, “But everyone else still died.”

“That is not your fault,” Tristan said. “Not at all. They patched you up and left you up on that roof because it was not out in the open in the Mortal Realm, and you were relatively safe. They could have sat tight, or left the Delve, but they pursued instead. Condolences for your loss.” He looked to Obadai, “Are you able to do the realmwalking spell to the Fey Realm, now?”

He nodded, “This space is big enough.” He sat down, cross-legged, and placed his palms together, pressing them against one another in front of his chest. “I will need to focus, so please make sure nothing bothers me.” Closing his eyes, he began chanting in Heaven’s Voice, and there was a gust of gold and blue energy that cascaded from him. He began to move his hands in circular patterns to either side of his body – sometimes placing them flat on the ground.

Tristan walked past him and kept an eye out for anything that appeared hostile, but all was quiet save for the drifting chunks of land. He heard an enormous rip noise behind him, like fabric being torn, and looked back to see a black circle right next to Obadai, that was twenty-feet tall and just as wide.

The Archon collapsed forward and propped himself up on his forearms, “That…whew…it’s done.”

“Felicity, help him through,” Tristan ordered. He looked at William, who was perplexed. “I can guarantee you safe housing in my Realm if you desire.”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “I’m so tired.”

Tristan walked through the black and felt the familiar rush of essence as the Fey Realm attempted to fill him up with its potent power. He reverse-spun his essence crucible, sucking it in and re-energizing himself, as he began to spin the other way as well, becoming one with the Realm’s power. “Matriarkka! Tule luokseni!” (Matriarch! Come to me!).

He turned back as he saw Obadai carried through by Elfanoid-form Felicity, and William’s mouth went slack as he walked in. Tristan gently removed the knife from his hand and sheathed it on his hip. “Welcome to the Fey Realm.”

Obadai let out a chuckle, “I’m going to stay here to recover for a bit, methinks. What is the plan, Tristan?”

“Well, we need to keep going from our last point and that Delve’s other exit back to the Mortal Realm. I figure I’ll give The Matriarch a time limit and then trust her there.” It was then that Tristan saw the weird, shimmering hues behind the Delve. Walking to the side of the black, he saw what looked like a prismatic pool that rippled with the gentle blow of the wind. “What is this?” he asked.

Felicity glanced over as she set Obadai down. “Oh, that? The edge of the Fey Realm.” She transformed back into her fairy dragon form and flew back to his head, plopping down on it as she began making claw-paw biscuits.

The sound of enormous wing beats could be heard, and Tristan looked up as The Matriarch descended along with a flight of twenty horse-sized fairy dragons – all with scythe-like hands. “Ah, Lord Tristan. And a new guest. And a Delve. You have been busy.”

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Tristan rapidly filled her in with the events of the last hour, ending with, “…In one hour, I want you to graft this Lost Realm onto the Fey Realm.”

“It would be my pleasure.” The Matriarch put her enormous paw against the black circle, “Realm Protector’s when given a Delve like this, can discern what the Lost Realm once controlled. And, when I graft it, we can take one feature to add to our own. This was once the Inspiration Realm, a place where creativity blossomed in all manner of art forms. If we were to graft this Realm, we get some feature of your choosing.”

“Any ideas?” Tristan asked.

The Matriarch smiled, “Why not just that? Increase the chance for a creative, inspirational idea to pop into our heads. It would increase our innovation in all manner of ways – from combat tactics to new means of starberry harvesting or processing, anything where creativity could help.”

“Sounds great,” Tristan replied. “But who all does that effect?”

“Fairy dragons and those who you make permanent residents. There is a process for that I will teach you when we have more time. An hour, yes?”

Tristan nodded, “Yes. Felicity and I are going back through the Delve, to the Mortal Realm, and then we’re going to continue journeying towards Jewel’s Point before coming back here to rest for the night.”

She nodded, “Escort our guests to the Queen’s Wood clearing,” she ordered. Two of the horse-sized fairy dragons swapped from scythe-hands to delicate, gentle, human ones – and they lifted up Obadai who slumped, exhausted, and William who was somewhere between a scream of fear and a whoop of elation.