A Soldier's Life - 431 - Everything Is Not What It Seems (minor edit 8-2-25 +150 words)

Chapter 431: Everything Is Not What It Seems

My two bodyguards and I sat across from the others as Fenlorian started to explain. “Besides six sailors, this is the group that will travel to the Isle.” He opened his hand to indicate the seven of us. I was slightly surprised the High Sentinel was coming, but it alleviated some of my angst with Lepidus coming. “The undead lords have set up defenses that prevent us from scrying their island with magic. Fortunately, the same arrays prevent them from scrying for us when we land.”

“Are we going to encounter any of the lords when we land?” I asked.

Lepidus answered in his monotone voice. “The undead lords fight amongst themselves for control of the limited resources on the island. As long as we are quick, we should be unnoticed and unmolested.”

“Why is it so important to confirm the dungeons are also affected?” Bharok asked. All eyes turned to the dwarf, and he looked unabashed for asking a question.

“It is important, because it could mean all ley lines across Desia are affected,” Lepidus echoed from under his mask.

Fenlorian straightened, and he spoke over Lepidus. “We have not received messages from Veilmark, Nethergate, or Iron Vigil. I will be sending The Salty Widow early to the city of Bunenge. It will sail tomorrow.” That sobered me as Benito was supposed to be on that voyage.

One of the Sentinels to Fenlorian’s right explained further. “We have been able to latch onto the anchor with our sending spells, but something is preventing us from pushing the messages out. It could just be the ley line under Sanctuary is interfering, but we need to be certain.”

“We are cut off from the rest of the world?” Baelira asked, concerned.

Fenlorian looked like he had aged decades in the last two days and nodded in confirmation. “We are deaf to the happenings in the world.” He indicated a large map on the table. “Now, our target will be the southern dungeon of the Isle of the Dead, the Creeping Vine Maze. It is only a mile from a small sandy cove. If we encounter any creatures before reaching the dungeon that we know inhabit it, we can turn around and return.”

“What populates the dungeon?” I asked. I had not been able to find any information in the Repository on what resided in the dungeons.

Fenlorian replied with confidence. “Sand spiders, a minotaur, a two-headed water naga, mimics, creeping vines, and black oozes.” I was not familiar with the sand spiders, but all those other creatures were extremely dangerous from what I had learned of them.

“Are they affected by the nether essence permeating the Isle?” I asked.

“We have not ventured into the Maze in over a hundred years, but yes, the minotaur and naga have been corrupted into undead variants in the past,” Fenlorian answered ominously.

“The new Seeker will need the mark,” Lepidus interrupted, focusing on me.

I made eye contact with the eyes behind the bone mask. “Actually, I will not. I have been practicing with Evie on identifying the nether essence in my body. I can purge it with a low-tier void spell.”

Without asking, Lepidus stood and approached me, doubt clear in his eyes. It was a risk admitting I had other void magic, because they already thought my void spell form was likely a variation of the disintegrate spell form. I hadn’t shown any capacity to cast true spells in my time here. I didn’t shy away as Lepidus took off his glove and placed his pale, black-veined hand on my head. I felt the pulse of aether he sent into me. He did it twice more, as if to confirm it.

“Almost no nether taint,” the normally flat voice might have shown a sliver of surprise. I tried not to look smug, but probably failed.

Fenlorian seemed satisfied, and no one asked me to demonstrate. “Looks like you don’t get to remove his arms, Lepidus. You can check him before we depart to confirm.” Lepidus slowly made his way back to his seat, and I was getting the feeling he really wanted to peel back my scalp and inscribe runes on my skull. I was beginning to think he had other motives, but I was the new member here and didn’t want to voice my concerns.

The conversation then turned to the true threats on the Isle, the undead lords. Lepidus, once he recovered from his surprise, took over the briefing. “Of the strongest lords, there are five liches, three vampyre lords, two revenants, and a banshee. This does not include their minions of wraiths, ghouls, zombies, and shadows. We will be landing in the brightness of day, and these creatures will not bother us.”

“We might see some of the soulless,” one of the Sentinels spoke out.

Fenlorian pursed his lips and nodded before explaining. “There are humans on the isle. Breed to be immune to nether essence corruption. There are three small villages on the far side of the isle, each curated by one of the vampire lords as livestock. They have no will and are enthralled by the vampyres.”

“Why haven’t you purged them?” Baelira said, eyes narrowed. I nodded in agreement. The lessons we had been taught on vampyres were pretty clear. You cut off their food, starved them, and hunted them. Although that was for lesser vampyres, I assumed it was the same for these greater vampyres.

With a steely tone, Fenlorian responded. “It has been tried before. Not only do the soulless fight back, but the vampire lords also hold dozens of the soulless in their castles to repopulate the towns if needed.”

“I thought you said the lords competed for resources on the isle,” the dwarf said suspiciously.

Lepidus answered flatly. “Yes. The soulless are a resource that is traded among the lords. They are needed not just for sustenance by the vampyre, but once killed, they can be raised into fresh undead.” Baelira and Bharok were stunned at the admission by their expressions. I could see their opinion of Fenlorian had dropped considerably with this secret. The whole ethos of the Sentinels was to protect the living from undead creatures, and just a few miles away, they were being allowed to raise humans like cattle.

“The soulless are lost of both mind and body. They are no longer human and cannot be saved. It is better than the alternative of the lords’ poaching Sentinels,” Fenlorian admitted sourly. “Before the soulless, there was a persistent war between Sanctuary and the Lords. As long as the lords remain on the isle, we will honor the armistice.” Fenlorian stood abruptly. “You can access the records in the Last Reliquary Vault, but do not share what you read with any Sentinels not of Purgator rank.”

Fenlorian left the council room, and the others at the end of the table slowly followed. Lepidus gave me one last look before heading in the other direction. I guessed he was going to the artificing workshop since it was in that direction. I looked at Baelira, and the anger on her face was clear. Bharok’s eyes were hard, but he was not as angry as the elf woman.

“I am going to the vault. Are you coming?” Baelira said gratingly to us.

There were cracks in the reputation of Sanctuary. Maybe it was a mistake bringing Evie here, but she was gaining control over her necromancy and identifying nether taint. “I will join you tomorrow,” I said slowly. “My companion is supposed to sail on the Salty Widow,” I explained. I am going to prepare him. Bharok nodded and followed Baelira to the restricted vault.

I didn’t get far as two master alchemists accosted me as I crossed the plateau to inform Benito. “Seeker, Eryk? A moment of your time?” an aged elf said with a strained, hopeful smile.

“The aether potions? You want to know where I got them?” I replied, having expected this. The two ancient elves nodded vigorously like children. “All I have is the recipe.” Their eyes widened in eagerness as a slip of paper appeared in my hand. It was my last iteration of the aether recovery potion brewing process that I sent to Maveith. The two master alchemists shared it as they reviewed my detailed instructions.

As I walked away, one of them shouted at me. “What is a dungeon golden fig?”

“That you will have to find for yourself,” I said as I walked toward my residence.

The common room attached to the kitchen still smelled like fish when I entered and went upstairs. Most Sentinels had not gone back to their regular daily routines. There were many unfamiliar faces in our common area. Benito was happily playing cards with five of the new faces. He looked up, beaming, and I guessed he had a great hand.

“Benito, we need to talk,” I said sharply over the ambient noise. An indecisive Benito looked at his cards and me a few times before folding and joining me for the bad news.

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The next morning, my companions all stood on the pier to see Benito off. The dungeon entrance still had not collapsed, and Sentinels guarded the cave. They had pulled the massive serpents out of the bay, descaled them, and hauled the flesh and skeleton outside the bay. Stacks of thick scales lined the piers.

The Salty Widow had been provisioned overnight and was ready to sail. Benito didn’t have a choice but to go. If he didn’t, he could slowly be corrupted by the nether essence. Evie had confirmed it was accumulating within him.

Benito clasped wrists with Blaze, embraced in a half-hug, and they exchanged soft words. I shook his wrist next and handed him a bag of single silver coins. “Don’t gamble it all away,” I said, grinning.

“I will double this by the next time I see you,” Benito said, beaming madly as he tested the weight.

Evie came and hugged his waist. “Remember you promised to show me how to spot cheaters,” she said, a little tight-throated.

“I promise,” Benito said, patting her back. “Just going to see a little bit of the world for the next few months. I am sure I will have some great stories when I come back.” They separated, and Benito messed her hair like I liked to do.

I looked around but didn’t see Lesna. She had been with us at the somber breakfast, and she really liked Benito, so I was surprised she was not here seeing him off. Benito seemed to be looking for her, too, disappointment on his face. Lesna appeared from the stairwell with her small pack, and I guessed why before she even reached us. “You are going too? Are you coming back?” I asked.

“Of course I’m coming back! I am just going to make sure Benito doesn’t get into trouble!” The halfling grumbled like it was an imposition to babysit Benito.

I nodded, and Benito turned bright red. “I can take care of myself,” Benito said in protest.

“Good,” I patted his shoulder. “Then you can watch Lesna’s back and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble either.” Lesna scowled, but let a small smile show briefly. I gave Benito a hug and whispered into his ear. “There are two large golds in the bag. Send that message to Raelia for me.” He nodded in affirmation.

Durgin, the dwarf first mate, was up on deck. “You coming, boy?”

“He’s coming and so am I!” Lesna snapped back. We said our goodbyes quickly and all over again with Lesna before they both boarded. I think Lesna had already told Evie she was leaving, because Evie held it together well. Lesna had been watching over Evie for months; she was a surrogate elder sister.

When I hugged Lesna on one knee, she huffed. “Keep the girl safe. If she loses you, she might break. I will bring Benito.”

Fifteen minutes later, the lines were pulled in, and the mages guided the large trading ship out of the bay. I couldn’t help but think that Benito was leaving at the right time, but I still hoped he would return safely.

That night, Evie moved a small bed into my room. Blaze also brought a bed into the same room so he could keep an eye on us while we used the dreamscape amulet. After the dungeon break, it also felt safer to keep us together. Tomorrow, Sanctuary was supposed to return to its normal activity, even though the dungeon entrance still hadn't collapsed.

While Evie was sparing in the dreamscape with a surprisingly patient Konstantin, I held the displacement spell form book open in my hand. I had been studying the dimension door spell form for months and had been on the cusp for weeks, but had been reluctant to press forward and imprint it. I knew I could anytime I wanted, but you only got one spell form for each affinity.

With the willow-o-wisp essences, my aether pool had grown significantly in the last few months, and I was considering imprinting greater teleport instead. The spell forms were much more complex, and it would take me months to learn them.

Dimension door was the poor mage’s version of greater teleport, but also a much safer version. With the dimension doorspell, you set the anchor in an archway, and then in the future, you connected it to another archway. The distance between the archways determined how much aether was required to hold a gate open. Even at extreme distances, I could keep it open for a few seconds. A negative was once the mage passed through the gate, both anchors faded, and a new anchor needed to be cast.

With greater teleport, the distance was limited only by the amount of aether the mage had access to. As I learned, there were many dangers in using displacement magic to teleport. Certain artifacts could interfere with teleports. If you made a mistake with targeting your destination, you could be killed before you realized you had even made a mistake.

Greater teleport spell forms were so complex that the Telhians artificed gates in important cities that only needed a displacement mage to activate. Other races needed to inscribe the spell forms on stones over ley line nexuses to power long-distance teleports. Having them as a spell form could be a huge advantage if I lived long enough to inscribe them.

The reason I was wavering was that I could use dimension door now and establish an anchor in Sanctuary. Having this before we traveled to the Isle of the Dead would give our party a guaranteed way to escape if the undead lords attacked us.

Evie stepped behind Konstantin in a blink and stabbed him in the kidney as she had been getting frustrated with his impenetrable defense. “No cheating!” I barked at her and reduced her speed to normal. Konstantin’s elbow came back hard, broke her nose, and sent her sprawling. I sighed, closed the book, and went to take over from Konstantin, postponing the important decision.

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