Lighting Distant Shores Page 4
“It’s not,” I snapped, glaring back at the ancient ghost, before looking around at the enveloping darkness. “And what the hell do I owe you, you vague, invisible prick? After all you’ve let happen to me, you expect me to just jump up and dance to your tune? Fuck you. You should be thanking me for deciding that our interests line up at all.”
Silence greeted my little tantrum. Then the former king sighed and put his hand over his face.
“Guess I deserve this,” he muttered. “Given the fact that I told him the same thing.”
I turned my annoyed gaze back to the asshole ghost.
“Really? You cursed the invisible talking deity too?”
“He’s Invictus,” the Avalonian said with a shrug. “Everybody curses him at some point.”
“Okay,” I replied carefully, sacrificing my temper in exchange for answers. “Assume for a moment that I have no idea who Invictus is, never met anybody who believed him to be anything more than a legend, and have no idea how to handle the fact that he, she, or it, came out of nowhere and began talking to me.”
“I call him a he,” the ghost interrupted unhelpfully. “Though I doubt it matters that much.”
Fine. Him. Whatever. I continued asking questions.
“Now, assume that I’ve recently begun receiving completely different stories about him, how some say he’s a force for good, and others believe he’s some kind of destroyer. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“I’d pay attention to both,” the Avalonian said with another shrug. “But yes. As far as I understand it, both are true.”
“Tell me why he’s called a destroyer. And while we’re at it,” I said, as a thought occurred to me, “Tell me about the one called Malus, and why no one’s nearly as afraid of him as they are Invictus.”
“That’s easy,” the other man said. “Malus is the one who hates and wishes to harm. The Expanse is damaged enough for that to seem natural. Everybody worries about being harmed, or hated. We prepare for it. It’s why you drew your weapon as soon as you heard my voice. What’s so strange about something claiming to be a patron of all of that? It’s an easy throne to sit on.
“But Invictus?” the seated king continued. “Invictus wants to end the world as we know it. Completely. To the point where no one could ever go back to the way things used to be.”
“And you’re okay with that?” I asked. “And you think I should be okay with that as well?”
“Now?” the nameless king said with another shrug. “After I’ve died and gone beyond? Absolutely. But before, I was just as angry and terrified as you are. I’d have been stupid not to have been.”
“And it stayed that way until you died?” I demanded. The ancient king shook his head.
“No. Not exactly. I stopped caring about how terrified and angry I felt. After I realized I could get on board with the destruction he wanted. It’s why I was able to wield Breaker. You can’t use the weapon unless you desire the end of all things, at least as they currently are.”
“I’d like to disagree with all of that,” I replied. “I have zero interest in bringing about the end of the universe.”
“Liar,” the king answered casually. “Look at your Deeds. I know she showed them to you.”
“She?” I growled. “Who are you calling ‘she?’”
I didn’t feel happy with the idea of Stell being exposed to all of this.
“The one you wrote on your heart,” the Avalonian ancient growled back. “The one you felt was worth protecting to the very end, and then when the end had passed, you still felt like protecting. The one who couldn’t crown herself with the regalia because, at some point, someone told her she was unworthy, and a small part of her believed them. Which is why you need to get off your fucking ass, and be there for her until she realizes they were wrong. Just like she was there for you, when you had trouble believing in yourself.”
“What the hell does that have to do with ending the universe?” I said as I raised my voice.
“Everything!” the man snapped back, raising to his feet. Whatever throne he had been sitting on crumbled to dust, as if it had never been important. “This universe doesn’t want her to think she’s worthy! It doesn’t want any of them to think they’re worthy! It would rather keep them diminished, just aware enough to be sucked dry, so that they can be easy resources to be harvested whenever anyone currently in charge feels like it!”
He walked right past me, pacing tensely. His cloak swayed and his sheath rattled as he walked.
“I can’t believe I need to be telling you this,” the Avalonian ghost spat. “It was your people that taught mine that. We finally got the message during the Stellar War. When you made the galaxies burn, instead of staying the way they were. You terrified every oppressor. Every slaver. Every dark thing hiding under a child’s bed. We thought you were all crazy. Until one of you was able to explain.”
“Explain what?” I asked, “because I’m still not following how killing everyone actually helps the people I care about.”
“It doesn’t!” the man snapped, whirling on me. “Killing them is what the cancer wants! It’s what Malus wants! That she, that the rest of them, slowly die inside! That they always live in fear! Never find greatness! Never believe they’ll be loved! If you just slaughter randomly, you won’t be saving anybody, so you won’t be ending the Expanse! You’ll just be starting another genocide, and the powers that be thrive on that!”
“But if you start saving lives?” the man said, pacing towards me. “If you start protecting the weak? If you start saying ‘my people’ to those the Expanse says are not your people? If you say ‘worthy’ to those the Expanse says are not worthy? If you stand in front of tyrants and shout ‘No, you shall not slave! You shall not rape! You shall not murder!’” The ghost king chuckled. “If you do those things, you’ll be an apocalypse. You’ll be kerosene. A lit match, in a dark universe soaked in oil and fear. It will have to put you out, because if it doesn’t, you’ll burn it all up. And you’ll leave nothing in your wake but ashes, and rescued orphans, and dignified lovers, and a whole universe full of the weak who finally realize that they are both worthy and strong.”
“That last one doesn’t exactly fit the definition of destruction,” I said dryly. It was an act, though. This dead man, this dead king, terrified me. “See, my people currently believe that if you end everything, you’re left with nothing.”
“Then your people need to relearn what they once knew,” The ghost replied just as dryly. “Because they taught my people that the only thing able to become nothing is nothing. Every time you break or destroy something, you make something else.” He reached for his scabbard and gripped Breaker’s handle. “You kill a man, you make a corpse. You break his dignity, and you make a man with no dignity. You make him free, and you break his oppression. You break an entire universe built on depravity, on violating and devouring the innocent,” he pulled Breaker free, and the full blade came into view, a massive weapon at least as large as the biggest two-handed medieval swords, “And you make an opportunity for the universe to rebuild itself to be something better. That’s the ending that the powers behind this world fear, and the ending that the Earthborn of old did not. And that is why they waged Stellar War against your ancestors, and lost.” The ancient lord looked down at Breaker’s surface, blurry despite the quiet power it emanated. “And while they were winning, they taught us how to be kings. And then Avalon and its sister worlds created a line of planetary worlds.” He looked over at my own incomplete version of Breaker. “Judging by the fact that you now wield authority over my former world, much has gone wrong.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “That’s an understatement.”
“Figures,” the still-nameless man sighed. “Everyone said we were supposed to lose the war. It’s a wonder we went as far as we did. But as far as I can see with these current eyes, the Expanse is the better for our trying.”
I shook my head. This was still all too much.
“No,” Avalon’s former lord shook his head. “Could have been anyone, as far as I know. But when your turn came up, you answered the call to try and end the world as we know it.”
“Like hell,” I spat. “I’ve been thrown from one disaster to another ever since I turned fourteen. Nobody stopped and asked ‘Hey Wes, wanna strap a whole universe of pressure onto your shoulders?’”
“Oh, yeah?” the other guy replied, looking back at me. “You mean they dragged you along, even though you said no? Somebody put a blade to your throat and made you do every one of those Deeds I see written on you? You had over a hundred chances to back down from the life you chose. Instead, you challenged the status quo every freaking time. And don’t try to blame it on anyone else, because I wanted to make the same excuses you did, back then. But the truth is, even as broken as you are, you still don’t want to turn back, or you would have already left the first time you died to an Umbra. Instead of choosing to fight him for her two more times.” The man sighed again. “And I need to apologize for yelling at you. I didn’t know how to be king when I started out either. The fact that you haven’t done all the things you’re capable of just means you don’t know how.”
“That’s also an understatement,” I replied carefully. “And every time I do figure something out, that girl you mentioned yells at me. Well, a couple parts of her do, anyway.”
He actually looked surprised at that.
“A couple… you’re courting a Starsown? That’s… wow. That’s ambitious. Even for an Earthborn. Alright. You poor bastard. Let me try to help.” He took another breath. “Invictus speaks to kings and queens. Real ones. Not the sad little puppets that call themselves ones whenever the Expanse tells them to. The more authority a king wields, the more clearly they can hear him. When you accepted that armband, you gained the ability and responsibility to shelter, exalt, and cherish the people in the world linked to it. That’s the story behind the regalia,” the nameless king said as he pointed to the different pieces of jewelry he wore. “It’s a commitment to raise up the people on the world tied to each piece. So that they can learn to be strong. So that they can wear crowns and armbands of their own one day.”
“I don’t think they were aware of that commitment when they gave this to me,” I replied carefully. “As far as I know, they’re just expecting me to keep doing things like leading them into battle.”
“I know,” the nameless king replied with a nod. “They didn’t get it in my time, either. Those that give you honor often create a bigger commitment to you than they realize. That’s why you can technically reject the armband right now, if you want.”
“The hell I can,” I spat.
“That’s right,” the ancient ghost agreed. “It’s an option you’ll never choose to take, no matter who tries to make you. I realized the same thing. But the armband’s primary purpose is to give you ways to lift up the folk of the Woadlands. To that end, it will give you a host of abilities.”
“Then I need to find a way to give it up,” I replied flatly. “Because I have at least five other worlds to save. If I linger here, billions will die, or worse.”
“Right motive, wrong solution,” the nameless king replied patiently. “Here’s a good thing to learn. Crowning others, sacrificing so that they can grow, doesn’t diminish your power. It increases it. And if you’ve experienced what I think just happened, then you’re gaining right now.” He looked at the band around his own bicep. “I should just show you how to use it. Especially since you probably won’t see me again.”
“You mean you won’t appear in some weird dream every time I get one of these?” I asked. “Is there already a precedent? Did the guy before you ever visit you in a dream, and more than once?”
He seemed to grow unhappy as he pondered my question.
“In case I do see you again,” I asked carefully. “What is your name?”
“I have a new one now, that only works on the other side,” the dead man replied. “But back then, I was known as the Pendragon,” he sighed again. “Let me teach you about that armband. It will probably give you a way to crown your beloved.”
“A way?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “How many different methods am I supposed to use?”
The first Pendragon chuckled.
“As many as you can. Because one of the best ways to break a wretched universe is to give a good woman the love she deserves.”
Chapter 5: Here is My Horizon
I awoke to find two beautiful women hovering over me. Guineve’s long black hair draped across half of my face, while the other half was bathed in Breena’s dim pink light. Upon making eye contact, the little fairy let out a proportionately big sigh of relief.
“Welcome back, dear Wes,” Guineve said calmly, with just a hint of tightness in her voice. “You gave us a bit of a scare back there.”
“The mother and her babies,” I gasped, as awareness came back to me.
“They’re fine,” Guineve assured me. “The other women and your little blue friend are with them right now. Whatever you did saved the infants long enough to fix their organs. As long as we’re careful, they’ll be fine.”
Well, that was no longer a miracle of modern medicine. I lacked a great deal of medical knowledge, but I knew that babies born very premature tended to need a lot of special equipment to keep stable, assuming you could save them at all. Then again, I had seen Ball-ee stitch a disemboweled woman’s stomach back together without much more than a hug, so I guess I was technically running around with a sentient, mobile ICU to begin with. That made little clones every time I destroyed a Horde Pit. So maybe I should just count my blessings.
“Wes!” Breena shouted angrily as she hunched her shoulders. She immediately flew in front of my face and began waving her finger. “You! Need! To stop! Falling! Unconscious!”
“Agreed,” I said, trying not to sound too aggravated. “If I could just figure out how.”
Given the number of people that tried to give me hidden messages when I slept, though, that seemed unlikely.
“I’m okay, though, right?” I asked.
“Yes,” Breena harrumphed. “Though, given how often this happens, you shouldn’t be. Check your mindscreen to be sure.”
I had tried to do that earlier, with scant luck. But now, the blasted thing finally seemed to be done updating.
An Environment-based, Tumult-level Challenge has officially been overcome by the allies and inhabitants of the Woadlands. Both the source of the Tumult, as well as the Dark Icon sponsoring it, have been removed from the world. Power will be gained by all parties including the planet itself, restoring many resources lost to the ice, and unfreezing secrets long hidden by the cold. Plant and animal life have become further resistant to the cold . Dormant species of every organism will slowly awaken and reintroduce themselves to the environment, and new technologies and magic will become available as the current inhabitants explore previously frozen territory. Furthermore, dormant aspects of all living beings will also awaken, making them more aware and responsive, as well as granting +5 to Dexterity, Wisdom, and Intelligence, 5 free skill points, as well as an increased ability to learn skills previously deemed too difficult.
Creatures that directly participated in overcoming the Tumult will additionally receive +10 to Dexterity, Wisdom, and Intelligence, 10 free skill points, as well as an even greater resistance to cold.
As the Challenger of Avalon and the primary combatant responsible for defeating the Tumult, all benefits are doubled. ERROR: multiple Earthborn Challengers detected in the vicinity. Applying the award of power to both Challengers.
A nascent Planetary Lord has participated in the ending of a Tumult. Right to Rule has been gained. The Lord will receive the same benefits as the inh
abitants who participated in defeating the Trial, +10 to Dexterity, Wisdom, and Intelligence, as well as increased ability to learn new skills. The Lord further gains 10 additional skill points to apply to any skills of his choice for lending assistance on an allied planet.
ERROR: detecting allegiance from at least one Icon of the Woadlands. Right to Rule has further been increased. Further detecting that the nascent Lord has played a direct role in ending the Tumult, including the use of his personal retinue. The Lord will further gain an increase in leadership, combat, and craftsmanship skills related to the highest increase granted to any member of the Lord’s warband. As a Challenger has been detected among the Lord’s warband, said increase is +30 skill points to each category.
ERROR: the Challenger’s recent gains have exceeded hidden parameters. Hostile protocols activating to terminate the Challenger and restrict his growth. Starsown and Avalonian countermeasures are activating to counter hostile protocols. RESOLUTION: termination unsuccessful. Restrictions partially successful. The Challenger is still unable to advance any skill 5 ranks beyond his Risen level. The Challenger’s ability to Rise has also been restricted, limiting his current gain to a total of 5 levels.
COUNTER-RESOLUTION: Detecting that the Lord of Avalon’s new regalia is funneling excess power into itself, unlocking hidden functions. Regalia now appears to be channeling a small amount of power into lifeforms and the environment surrounding the Challenger. The Challenger’s retinue will now retroactively receive a larger degree of benefits upon overcoming Trials and Tumults, closer to what the Challenger receives himself.
“Holy crap,” I muttered, reading all of the changes. “Why does this thing always update in sledgehammer-sized deliveries?”
“What do you mean?” Breena asked, peering intently. “Are we talking about a good sledgehammer blow, or a bad sledgehammer blow going on here?”
“Um, both,” I said, processing her inquiry with a wince. “But your question highlights my poor choice of metaphor. I received a lot of power, especially for my skills. But that weird nonsense bug inside my brain stopped me from getting the full benefit, and tried to flip a kill switch in my brain at some point.”