‘It’s over now.’
Val and I hurried over to Niamh’s side, and only when I was satisfied that she really was dying, rather than faking it, I allowed myself to breathe. When the Player saw us standing over her, she didn’t move to strike, or to spit at us. In fact, she smiled.
‘Does she know what you are, Styk?’ Niamh asked through a bloody mouth. ‘She might be a witch, but I think she would believe what you are to be so much worse.’
I hesitated, then. Every instinct told me to end the Player’s life, there and then, before she could reveal to Val what she knew of me. But I hesitated. I hesitated at possibly the most important moment of my life.
‘Does she know you are the spawn of a Player?’ Niamh finished.
Val stumbled backwards, facing paling, and I watched as she looked from the Player to me, unbelieving. ‘Is it true?’
Niamh answered for me. ‘Cleo, her name is. A member of my Council. A smart woman, though I see that never…’ The Player had to stop, to cough up blood. ‘I see that attribute did not get passed on.’ And then, to Val, she continued, ‘Did you never wonder why he could use that artifact? An artifact meant only for Players? He has our blood within him. He is one of us.’
Val’s eyes remained on Niamh, apparently unable to tear them away—or, perhaps, to look at me.
‘Val, you know me,’ I said to her. ‘You know what I am. What I believe in. You know I’m nothing like one of them.’
Only then did the witch look up at me.
‘We’re both ashamed of what we are,’ I said. ‘But we both know that we’re more than what we’re born, right? Right?’ Was I convincing her, or convincing myself?
Slowly, Val nodded.
‘You understand?’
‘I…’ she started, her voice croaking. ‘I’ll need some time to process. You… understand that, right?’
I thought about reminding her of my reaction to the news that she was a witch—it didn’t bother me for a second. But that wasn’t helpful right now. ‘I understand,’ I said, and turned back to Niamh. ‘Was that your final ploy? Turn us against each other by telling her what I am? That I’m the man who is part human, part god?’
‘The man?’ Niamh repeated, beginning to laugh. ‘The man? You thought it was just you? You thought you were special?’ The Player stopped her laughing only when the coughing and spluttering became too great, and for a moment it looked like she might slip away from this world then.
‘I thought…’
‘Our kind have roamed these lands for generations. From the days that your so-called Architects created it. You must know that our lives are far longer than yours. Did you really think that only one of us would have birthed children with the locals, that only one of us might have accidentally blessed her spawn with the magicks of our homeworld? There are hundreds with Player blood in them, if not thousands. Any one of them could have used the Artifact.’ She laughed again. ‘And you thought you were special?’
‘I am special,’ I said, raising my dagger. ‘I have the artifact.’ I moved forward as if to kill her, and at that moment the fear came out.
Niamh’s eyes widened at last. ‘Stop!’ she croaked. ‘Stop. I’ve made arrangements. I created a standing order, after our encounter in the Tundras. If I should die, the Council are to be notified that you and your friends are coming for them. You will be hunted to your last breath.’
‘So what?’ Val asked, and I saw that her eyes were on my dagger point; she hadn’t forgotten our discussion about who should be the one to end the Player’s life. About who deserved to.
‘If I die here, in this world, more Creations remain to me. And once Tana is successful in this one, I will be practically immortal. If you die, however, it is over—whether you have Player blood in you or otherwise.’
‘I best not die then.’ With that, I plunged my knife down, activating the simplest of all my abilities: Stab. As I twisted the knife in Niamh’s stomach, watching the life fade from her eyes, Val didn’t complain; that she was here to see it seemed to be enough. Either that, or she was still sidetracked by the news of my ancestry. The reason didn’t matter, because there was something else far more important: that I levelled up the Sisyphus Artifact once more, whatever the cost.
As I twisted once more, Niamh drew her last breath, and a single tear dripped from Val’s right eye.
2x Knights of the Realm defeated!
Level 46 Expert Trapper defeated!
Worldbending — +21,050xp
Worldbending increased to level 47!
Worldbending increased to level 48!
Worldbending increased to level 49!
Worldbending increased to level 50!
Base Points gained — +8 INT, +8 Free Points (INT/WIS/CHA)
Ability selection unlocked
Select an ability from the list below…
Knifework — +13,200xp
Knifework increased to level 37!
Knifework increased to level 38!
Knifework increased to level 39!
Base Points gained — +3 DEX, +3 STR, +6 Free Points (VIT/DEX/STR)
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Level up!
You increased to level 17
Descendant of the Architects defeated!
Sisyphus Artifact: Charge replenished!
Sisyphus Artifact: Levelled up!
Artifact upgrade unlocked
Select [2] upgrades from the list below…
1. Increase Charges VI [8 > 9]
2. Extend Active Period II [1,000 > 1,500]
3. Increase Effect I [+900% > +1,400%]
4. Add Experience Preservation Charge IV [+1]
This time around, I knew exactly what to pick. If Niamh was telling the truth—and for all her faults, she didn’t strike me as a liar—the Council would be coming for us now. If they came, there was a good chance I’d need to use the Sisyphus Artifact again. So I might as well keep the experience when I did die. But until then, I was going to want to grow stronger as quickly as possible.
Artifact upgraded confirmed!
Sisyphus Artifact
Charges Remaining: (1 / 8)
Active Effect: Legacy of Sisyphus
Days remaining: 902 / 1,000
XP gain increased by +1,400%
The rest of the notifications weren’t time-sensitive; I could deal with those later. For now, Val and I had to turn our attention to the two unconscious men lying on the deck of the sinking ship.
Unsurprisingly, it was Lore that we ran to first, though we quickly established that he was… absolutely fine? Sleeping, but fine. Niamh really had spent so much of her mana healing his wounds—but why? I had the worrying feeling that we’d find out before long. We’d need to wake Lore up soon, before the ship sank entirely, but that was nothing a bucket of cold water over the head couldn’t fix.
Elandor, however, was much worse for wear. He’d taken some very heavy wounds, wounds which Val poured all her Healing magicks into… but it wasn’t enough to fix them. The witch did just enough to bring Elandor conscious, to face down his rapidly approaching end.
For what it was worth, the elf did so with honour.
‘Worldbender,’ he croaked, and this time I let it slide. ‘My bow…’
‘The battle’s over, Elandor. We won. We killed her.’
‘And… Sunalor?’
I cast a glance over my shoulder at the coastline, but I simply couldn’t tell; it was too far. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know.’
Elandor forced a smile to his face. ‘You might have lied to me, but I respect that you did not. My bow… do you see it?’
In answer, I nodded.
‘Please, take it. As a gift.’
I slid the bow out from under his hand. ‘For… me?’
Elandor laughed. ‘I never will understand human humour. No, worldbender. Not for you. For the Hero of Iranir. For Lieutenant Cladenor. I think… he has earned it.’
These would turn out to be the last words of Elandor, leader of the Red Thorn.
* * *
As it happened, waking Lore up had ended up being much more difficult than I’d expected. Splashing cold water on him hadn’t done it, and I’d been about out of ideas when it had occurred to Val to slap him in the face—several times.
When Lore awoke, sporting a bright red patch on his red cheek, he blinked at the situation around him. ‘Did I kill her?’ he asked.
Val and I couldn’t help but laugh, and the witch clapped the barbarian around the shoulder. ‘You did a good job, buddy.’
From the bright smile that emerged on his face, Lore was happy enough with that result. I tried to smile at Val too, but though she was otherwise acting normally to me, she didn’t seem to quite be able to meet my eye.
What with me still having so little mana left in my reserves, we’d had to swim to the nearest ship—with the now fresh Lore doing most of the work. After we tired ourselves beyond all belief, Val and I clinged onto the barbarian’s loose-fitting top as he continued swimming, not slowing down even slightly. Lore even considered climbing the rope ladder at the side of the ship with us still hanging on, but ultimately asked us to get on by ourselves.
I grunted my teeth as I pushed my exhausted legs up one by one, and then staggered onto the deck of a ship without any holes in the hull. Only then could the three of us look back at the city of Sunalor, and hope that our friends had been successful in their quest to save it. We sailed back towards it as the invasion continued, Val and I admittedly unlikely to make any difference to the tide of war, so exhausted were we by our encounter with Niamh, but we went anyway—determined to see this journey through to its end.
And then an explosion—no, two—rang out across the harbour. I thought at first that this was another mine—perhaps we’d hit something, even—but then the noise was followed up by an almighty screech, and a crack. We watched on as two of the towering Dawnwood trees began to fall, one on each side of the city, plummeting towards the dirt. Even at this distance, we could hear the smashing of buildings beneath them, homes sacrificed in the name of the defence of Sunalor.
But we also knew that to fell a tree of the Dawnwood was heresy. It was the act of a desperate man, an act that Corminar had needed to resort to once before.
‘It wasn’t enough,’ I breathed, and though neither Val nor Lore replied, I knew that they agreed.
All we had done, by killing Niamh, was take their general away. But we’d been too late, and the new Golden Empire’s had been too great in number. In those latter stages of the invasion, they’d been powerful enough even without Niamh to ensure that the elves hadn’t stood a chance.
Corminar had failed. Sunalor had fallen.
