AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 506 - Drought
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 01:04:16 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Hades - Halls of Athena
Within Amdirlain’s Soul, the group of elves had grown distinct. A male among them drew Amdirlain’s gaze. While previously, only his lack of face tattoos had distinguished him from the others in the group, now he appeared worn and fatigued, the worry lines radiating from his eyes and tight mouth painted a picture of trapped misery to Amdirlain. The emotions radiating from him drew her attention while the others remained inanimate figures.
When she put a hand on his shoulder, the memory yanked her into the existence of a young male Elf, not the elder from her Soul. For a moment, their awareness conflicted, but Amdirlain relaxed to let the first of Nytherion’s memories flow through her. From his patrol route through the canopy, he spotted spore signs and blood spots against trunks, high enough for an adult elk. The stag he spotted had a snapped antler and wounds across his neck and flank, showing that age had caught up with him and that he’d lost his herd to a younger male. Although the village had ample provisions, they could store dried meat from the kill.
Quiet steps carried him through the canopy until he nearly had a vantage point to strike. A last easy step took him between trees where he perched on the broad oak branch before he drew and aimed at the old stag, head low in restless slumber bathed the shadows between two trees. As his breathing steadied, a burst of light from above startled the old stag and it flinched into cover. A morning’s warmth rushed over them, not from the proper spot among the ridgelines to the east, but directly overhead. There was no explosion or clash of spells, merely a sudden illumination. With the bow quickly unstrung, he climbed up the tree and, instead of the night sky above, the heavens were alight with a sun high overhead—in the wrong part of the sky for the winter sun.
The thick canopy around the lake allowed a speedy traversal along its edge, venturing over the water to leap between branches and cut down on navigating the shore’s curves. The odd sun was reflected, staring balefully from its surface, twisting the regular shadows between the trees. A shift in the wind rustled the branches vigorously, causing them to emit ominous creaks. When he reached the village’s outskirts, he spotted a Shaman on a sky bridge, peering through a gap in the canopy, hand lifted to shade his gaze from the strange sun.
“Alorien. What do the omens say? The Sun God has wakened in the wrong place and time,” stated Nytherion.
The grey-haired Shaman's gaze snapped to the shadows, shifting wildly on the sky bridge. “Isn’t it obvious he has a new palace within heaven’s lights? The world must adjust to the gods’ will. We should wait and observe to see what patterns emerge from the breezes and shadows.”
Hours later, the sun rose from its normal position among the eastern hills, and Alorien looked at Nytherion in horror. The sun that appeared to shatter the night still shone down from the same position in the sky and, if anything, blazed brighter with the normal daybreak.
Alorien sped away to the central grove, where the shamans would hear Danu’s whispers. Nytherion followed and paced before the entryway into the inner spirals while waiting for Alorien to emerge. Among the outer groves, panicked cries spread throughout the morning, other shamans passing Nytherion to the central spirals.
Hours later, the sweating Elder showed his face, tanned skin now pale and green.
“Your expression heralds grim news.” Nytherion clasped his grandfather’s shoulder before he could slip away. “Tell me. The other rangers will want to know.”
“The grove is silent. No matter how I reach out, I can’t hear Danu. Worse still, we cannot renew or gain new blessings.”
Nytherion gagged in dismay. “How could something cut you off from the goddess?”
“I don’t know. Olyiphia can still draw from the world’s Mana, but such cantrips and tricks are useless in dire times. I shall speak to the elders.”
One council of elders turned into another, and disjointed and contradictory orders came from different parties, disrupting all efforts to undertake any preparations for trouble.
In the endlessly hot, eternally sunlit days that followed, the lake near their settlement dwindled as heavy winds swept every cloud past without a drop of moisture to ease the steady parching of the land. The mud became a death ground for larger animals; the elk's hooves, in particular, punched straight through the drying crust. As they tried to leap closer to the remaining waters, their necks and backs bulged with straining muscles. Squirrels and other small tree-dwelling animals fared better, but so far from the safety of their homes, they became easy prey for the raptors. Picked off far from the new shore, the birds feasted on the flesh and drank blood from the corpses.
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Nytherion shifted uncomfortably, aware of the leaves around him having lost their eternal green and turned a greyish brown. “The trees are dying.”
“When the gods’ fighting ends, the rains will return,” declared Alorien.
“When was the last time you received a Blessing?”
Alorien flinched and averted his gaze.
Nytherion bared his teeth and jabbed Alorien’s chest hard with a dusty finger. “There hasn’t been rain in years; the gods might be dead, the river is dry, and only one stream still feeds us with water. You and the other elders need to stop talking and decide.”
Alorien’s shoulders straightened. “You would have us leave the groves by following it to find its source and move there?”
“Every time I prepared to do that, the elders voted against it.” Nytherion coughed and pulled a scarf across his mouth to stop another lungful of dust.
“You don’t know what you’ll find.”
“I know its source from before the troubles. It’s a cave in the northern hills beyond the tribe’s lands, and I’ve trekked the muddy streambed repeatedly to keep it clear of pests and dead animals.”
A scent of smoke teased on the wind.
Alorien’s nostrils flared as Nytherion spun about. “The forest is on fire. The wind carried it from the east. We need to make a firebreak.”
“I’ll not spend the rangers’ lives on such stupidity. We leave now,” snapped Nytherion. “Your day is done, grandfather.”
Nytherion whistled orders to the other rangers, piercing through the hue and cries that joined Alorien’s. As the fires swept in, those who listened to his orders retreated to the northern stream, while the rest heeded Alorien and the other elders who kept fighting over what to do. The once-vibrant forest was dry and brittle around them; none dared move among the wind-strained upper branches of the grey canopy any longer. Their running strides raised dust clouds from the cracked earth and dead mosses. Smoke carried on the eastern wind got the best of those weak with age or too young for the hurried pace they set. Those stronger aided them, but the pace slowed. They could faintly make out through the sparse canopy behind them when branches caught flame, and some panicked, yelling to leave the slower people behind.
Two elders who had voted against earlier preparations were among the first to flee ahead of the fragile refugees. They led the hasty retreat, stirring a wave of panic among the youngest parents with little children and the elderly who believed in his plan.
Nytherion put an arrow through the male’s head. The second elder was a female who turned to shriek at Nytherion.
“Get back here and help. Your constant arguing doomed us, so we all get out, or you’ll die first,” declared Nytherion.
She opened her mouth to protest, and a second arrow appeared buried to the fletching in her right eye. It hadn’t been Nytherion’s arrow. From among the rangers, more arrows cut down others who continued to flee.
There will be less crowding and whining in the cave.
Nytherion motioned to a bend in the stream, where the water came closest to the bank. “Don’t get stuck in the mud; some spots are deep pits if you break the crust. Keep moving and watch for stepping stones to reach places to wet down your scarves.”
The refugees made it to the cave with flames licking at their heels.
The cool air within the cave was the first relief many had experienced from the growing heat since the second sun appeared. They slipped alongside the water and into the deeper caves, where the overflow from the water pools filled a funnel into the streambed. On the first day in the cave, Nytherion removed the others who had sat on the council and contributed to the factions that had paralysed the village. Their bodies feed the mushroom patches found deep in the interior.
The forest was ablaze for days and, hidden in the cave with nowhere to go and nothing meaningful to do, the tribe fell into an irregular sleep pattern.
While looking over the parents, their faces etched with worry despite their attempts to cheer their children, had Nytherion bit his tongue at their white lies. He could smell the sour scent of fear mixed with the sweet aroma of moisture in the caves. In those days, he promised not to bring any child into a world the gods had abandoned.
It had been three weeks and, before the thick haze eased, most supplies except the mushroom crops from deeper in the caves had grown low. When Nytherion at last ventured out, the dried forest was a desolate wasteland, with fallen trees and cracked trunks pointed accusingly at the twin suns in the sky. Knee-high twisters raised plumes of smoke from still-smoldering logs and tossed powdered charcoal into the air. Though the thick haze was gone, drifting smoke still rose from patches across the landscape. Nytherion and a few others returned to where the village had been and buried the few cooked corpses they found gathered in what remained of Danu’s grove.
Nytherion took care of his grandfather’s charred corpse alone. He toppled Danu’s once-blessed oak and used its shattered remnants as a memorial cover for Alorien’s grave. He saved his tears for the children in the cave who now lived in these strange times.
In the centuries that followed, the overflowing pools in the cavern waxed and waned. When the water leaking from the rock wasn’t enough to match the tribe’s thirst, the weakest offered themselves to the absorption tents so others would survive. Yet other times, channels in the upper hills brought heated winds into the depths, where they cooled and shed condensation until the stream ran high. With the water, mosses, lichen, and cave fish, they had enough to sustain the tribe, though sometimes in a precarious state. True to his oath, Nytherion died childless after centuries, having never seen rain again. He met his last sleep in the absorption tent, returning his water to the tribe.
The lives of the others in that group of past lives showed her the descent of other elven tribes into increasingly savage barbarism, cannibalism, and harvesting the blood and bodily fluids of their enemies to distill for water. The once richly forested lands were all arid deserts, with legends of paradises all said to be beyond the horizon to the north or south—never close at hand. Eventually, many of the natural springs ran out, and the fighting over those that remained grew fiercer. Though none of the tribes seemed remotely in the same place, in every life, a miniature sun always stayed hung in the sky. Its steady presence ignored the original sun’s orbit that continued to rise and fall each day, altering course through the changing seasons.
Sometimes, the original sun’s passage would take it behind the static second sun, and the day’s heat would grow so intense that it would kill anything that ventured from shelter. Later lives revealed the meaning of the flowing facial tattoos; they were the marks of those controlling water allocation, effectively deciding who lived or died. After the last memories faded, Amdirlain broke free of the meditation cycles and rose to pace the room. A lap around the bubbling fountain with the statue of Athena on the polished marble plinth seemed especially ironic after the arid wasteland she’d witnessed grow.
There were hints of Sarah and Rachel, but I can’t be sure without discussing those lives. That second sun seemed more a focusing disc of some kind. Was it a more advanced attempt at a weather control system? Yet why were they isolated from the gods if it was something like that? When other matters are resolved, I’ll see if I can find the answers to satisfy my curiosity, if nothing else.
On the second lap, as she moved towards the statue’s back, Amdirlain spotted a curious gap in the statue’s hands.
The stone scrolls weren’t seamless parts of the statue. Telekinesis flipped the scrolls to her hands, the bubbling water cut off, and the inside of the fountain shuddered downwards, a section at a time, to form a spiral staircase. As the stairs rasped into place, she turned the scrolls over and found fire written on the scroll from the right hand and water on the left-hand scroll.
The welcome sign mentioned puzzles and traps. Now, I have two clues and a fourth way forward.
Amdirlain returned the scroll marked with water, and the descending staircase reversed its course and closed up. Water started flowing from the sprouts at Athena’s feet when the panels were all level with the fountain base. An experiment of tossing another pencil into the same room saw it clutter unscathed against the table immediately before the doorway. With the fire scroll returned, a third pencil was incinerated in mid-air. She duplicated the experiment with the other two rooms, and the results were the same—flames when the right scroll was in place and nothing when she removed it.
With the scroll removed, Amdirlain peeked into each room and found each offered two exits deeper into the sprawling complex. A barrier of silvery Mana interlaced with an elemental property blocked each doorway. Unlike arcane barriers, no runes were present to show their purpose, only an interweaving of energies. Analysis provided clear feedback, including the spatial nature of the obstacles, but the structure was beyond her theoretical knowledge to discern. Instead of risking the new doorways, she explored the rooms’ contents, finding material on purification rites and the required materials. She had only read the contents of one set of shelves when Amdirlain found herself in the courtyard with the fountain, while the scrolls were again in the statue’s hands. Though her Ki Pool contained more energy than it had previously, its current contents were like a dried-up lake—a little water in the bottom of a vast expanse.
Fire is associated with purification. Where does water lead?
The left scroll floated to Amdirlain, and the marble plates shifted downwards again.
Once the noise stopped, she took each step carefully. The spiral staircase continued to turn around the central pillar until, after hundreds of rotations, she ended up facing an archway. On one pillar was a disc with arrows radiating along all the compass points—major and minor—while on the other was a truncated trident head enclosed in a circle. Standing between the two pillars was a solid sheet of rippling black water. To her detection spells the archway and the water radiated potent energy. As with the doorways upstairs, she could see cables of energy holding the barrier in place, but other than the symbols on the pillars, there was no sign to show a way to deactivate it.
Chaos and Oceanus. In Greek mythology, Chaos was the fathomless void from which everything emerged—land, sea, and air. Oceanus represented both the cradle of life and the vast unknown. They’re both primordials, so why would Athena represent them here, and so far below ground? For the symbolism that they created the foundations of everything else that followed, or something else? Why am I playing Athena’s game when I don’t know the rules?
She retreated partway up the spiral staircase and perched on the edge of a marble step. Meditating, Amdirlain floated in her soulscape but avoided the arrayed images of her lifetimes as she waited.
Lethe appeared beside her without warning. “What rules are you seeking, Amdirlain? I don’t know how Athena set up this place either.”
“How is the magic system set up?” asked Amdirlain. “Bahamut said I pinched it from him, but I must have known the rules to establish them.”
“You know, there is a difference between mastering engineering theory and what works in practice. The same applies here. I could help you regain memories of every rule, but then you’d be swimming in information even though you never practiced magic in this realm before your return. Since you don’t like being subtle, why not attack the barriers?”
“Celestial energy,” grumbled Amdirlain. “I’d prefer not to be losing more body parts.”
“You’re smart enough to do it in a way that doesn’t get your knuckles rapped. I know you considered targeting the weak points and avoiding direct oppositional affinities. Tackle them that way, and they’re big punching bags to study their reactions. Once you’ve seen enough of their behaviour, it might give you a clue about what you’re looking for among all that study material. If nothing else, you’ll have lots of time to practise your spellcasting.”
“You could help me find memories related to the barriers.”
“Nope, this is for your own good.” With a grin, Lethe waved Amdirlain away. “Shoo. Blast the solid barriers, have fun, or apply precision scalpels to cut key points.”
“Finding information on the key points is what I was after,” protested Amdirlain.
“I know you well enough that giving you something when it isn’t urgent will just be cheating you.” Lethe’s grin turned childlike. “Experimentation is fun, and you’ve got years available to play. I still approve more of your first instincts about this place than pandering to the games of a Grecian God.”
“Healing,” murmured Amdirlain.
“You’ve gone from a tiny Ki Pool towards an ocean, having barely scratched at the surface of all the lives you have to blend. Ki, the energy of life, seems a fitting resource for someone focused on creation.”
“You’re just biased towards True Song over the arcane.”
“You could force me to give you the knowledge, but will you?”
“No. Though if I find something specific, would you help me then?”
“Yes, but you’re facing a blank slate; you’ve not even started investigating.” Lethe let out an amused huff and vanished.
“Pulling my trick,” Amdirlain huffed back and released the meditative state.
Amdirlain returned upstairs and began to survey the room’s contents. She took the religious texts with a grain of salt for their accuracy, but her doubts grew when others didn’t match her existing arcane knowledge.
Did they not bother to update these trials, or is it part of the test finding truth among rubbish? There is one way I can push my arcane knowledge.
As she dumped points into her arcane knowledge, Amdirlain caught a hint of Lethe’s bubbling amusement.
Comments
Glenn Wright
Thanks - darn auto-correction.
Kemizle
Meditating, Amdirlain floated in her soundscape-> [soulscape] but avoided the arrayed images of her lifetimes as she waited.
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
James Skinner
Thanks for the chapter.
Glenn Wright
fixed - thanks
Karl Tageman
banefully -> balefully?
Plateworm
Tftc
