Hello internet! Exb here!
This is a very special (to me) chapter because I put in a (hopefully major) plot twist that (hopefully) will be a surprise. I'm not good at plot twists, let's just leave it at that. I guess I'll just to have to see what the reactions are!
REVIEW ANSWERS:
woohooman14: Never trust anyone! Who knows who the next backstabber might be?
EclipseWolf64: So much caps I can't even. And Matt doesn't take off the pendant because Rykar is forcing him not to :P
VerinSedai: I promise I won't murder you with a quill! Oddly specific, but I'll hold to my promise!
VVVVV
Biomes had a strange way of...well, being placed.
When the world had formed, or so it was said according to legend, it formed with a tropical south, a temperate north, and ice caps in the extremes, with out-of-place biomes scattered around at random intervals. It had occurred at the whim of whoever had created the world; supposedly it was the original creator of Minecraft, the late Markus Persson, who had crafted the simulation from scratch. There were plenty of rumors that existed about the genesis of the simulation, but one thing was for sure: the entire world was based on organized chaos.
Within a few miles, the terrain and the climate had changed drastically. They had been walking through a cool, windswept sea of grass, following an old dirt pathway through the tall clumps of sawgrass. Within a few minutes, the temperature had begun to drop; small patches of snow dotted the roadway, and any puddles were frozen over.
Within another few minutes, they were in the grip of winter. It was late afternoon when they truly arrived into the hand of winter.
The biome that Iceport lay in was completely frozen over; without proper winter gear, Matt was beginning to feel the chill seep through his armor and clothing and bite into his skin, gnawing at him as they struggled on. A cold wind whipped through the small vale they were traveling in, borne down from the ridged, craggy hills above them.
The city was built out of stone, some of it carved into a small mountain that overlooked the frozen port. It was ancient, dating back thousands of years, but it seemed relatively untouched by the ravages of time. Some buildings had fallen apart, and snow had covered much of it, but it was easy to make out and most of the visible structures looked to be intact.
"I'm surprised it's still standing," Royce grunted, snorting sarcastically. "You'd think everything would've fallen apart by now..."
"You'd be quite surprised," Rykar said lazily. "Let's go on."
"Shouldn't we wait until morning, though? It's late, and we've still got a ways to go," Royce complained. Kellan chimed in as well, arguing that he was tired of riding and that his legs ached.
"It was your damned idea to come along with us, boy!" Rykar hissed at him. "Shut the hell up and deal with it! We're getting into the city by nightfall," he ordered. Matt did not complain; he let the other two men fall silent, and followed the castellan down a gentle slope towards the port.
Over the past several days, Rykar had become more and more irritable; his mood was fouler, his temper was shorter, and he cursed far more often than he normally did.
Matt noticed that he was changing as well; the pendant was disturbing him. He continuously had night terrors, waking up in a cold sweat from the grip of a panic-inducing nightmare, and he had been suffering from a constant mild fever the past three days, which had been exacerbated by their lack of sleep on the road. It had taken all of the strength that he could muster to stay upright in the saddle, and the pendant wasn't doing him any good. Every moment he could hear a very distinct, barely audible clicking somewhere around his ears; it would not cease, ever. It wasn't overtly distressing, but it was omnipresent, always ringing in his ears, and sometimes it drove him so mad that he began to fidget uncontrollably. He knew that Rykar had taken notice, but the castellan had done nothing; he hadn't even spoken to Matt, or even asked him about the pendant. It was as if he was being drawn into a different world.
"Man...you look pale," Kellan noticed as he rode side by side with Matt.
"I...yeah, I'm not in good shape..."
"We should stop and find a place to camp here. You're not looking too good," Kellan said.
"No, no, it's fine...I can get to the city, it's not too far," Matt shook him off, shuddering from the cold. The clicking was there, too; it took all of his willpower to avoid boxing his ears just to get the omnipresent sound to depart for a brief moment. A painful ringing was more welcome than the distinct, high-pitched pulse.
"You've used up more than half of our antibiotics," Kellan pointed out, before realizing that was the wrong thing to say. "Not that...that's a problem, sorry man-"
"No offense taken."
"It's kept your fever down, at least," he pointed out optimistically. "And hey, we're finally here...now all we need to do is get back, bro, and we're all good!"
I doubt there's going to be a journey home, Kellan. At least not yet.
To be frank, none of the party members had even given any thought to getting back to the Ditch; they were pretty low on rations, and their mounts were becoming tired. They were far from any civilization, having passed the last farmhouse three days ago. South was all charred, uninhabitable wasteland, and north was ice and desert until one reached the city-state of Swampheart. They could go north, but that would take them even farther from their destination...
"Man, it's freaking cold," Kellan shivered, trying to make decent conversation.
"Yep," Matt confirmed blandly, shifting his weight so he could stay in the saddle. Snow began to swirl around them, picked up by a growing wind. They passed jagged rock and ice formations as they descended further down towards the city, coming closer to the frozen bay.
"I'd give anything to be back in Dallas, dude. It might've been hot there...but that's better than freezing to death."
A lifetime resident of rainy Seattle, Matt had no comment. He had lived all of his life in a city that really had no idea what summer was like, and where the clouds seemed to open up every single day.
Night had fallen by the time they had reached the city walls. They were right at the edge of the old port now, but they still had to find the entry gate, provided that it was accessible. By then, snow had begun to fall, and it was obvious that a storm was picking up, moving in from the east. Matt shivered quietly, trying to drown out the clicking by sniffling as much as he could, retaining much of the phlegm that his system was producing. He felt miserable, his head heavy like a block of lead and feeling quite dopey and sluggish. The dropping temperatures did little to help.
It was possible that he had just picked up an illness from someone and was going through the stages of it, but he had been struggling with it ever since he had put the pendant around his neck and left the Ditch. Something about that damned necklace was damaging his physical health; he felt weaker, more lethargic, his senses were dulled and his decision making had been hampered since he had left the Vault with the pendant. But every time he removed it, Rykar scolded him and forced him to put it back on, even abusively threatening him at one point. Matt had not the strength to argue with a man as commanding as Rykar Bergensten, so he was forced to continue to wear the pendant while his mental faculties suffered from the strain.
And somewhere out in the snow, Matt heard a voice.
It was a brief whisper, unintelligible, but it caught his attention all the same, and surprised him so much that he jerked on the reins of the horse and wheeled it around swiftly, causing the beast to reel in surprise and spaz out momentarily. The whisper had been only brief, but it had been sudden and very loud, and Matt found himself glancing about in all directions, searching for some formless shape in the swirling torrent of icy flakes around them.
"Matt? Something wrong?" Kellan asked, and that caught the attention of the other two men, who stopped their horses and turned around.
"I...heard something, or someone..."
"Something, or someone?" Royce asked, perplexed and concerned.
"It could've just been the wind," Kellan suggested. "It messes with your mind like that."
"If it's the wind, nothing's wrong. If it is somebody, that's a whole other issue," Royce fretted.
"Matt. What did you hear?" Rykar asked, pulling up beside the former.
"It was...just a whisper, a sound..." Without hesitating, Matt glanced down at the pendant, the tiny pearl shining in the light of Rykar's torch, and had a sudden panic attack, as if seized by a phantasmic force.
"It was probably just the wind. Let's get moving again..."
"No. It was the pendant," Matt gasped, suddenly feeling his chest tighten with apprehension. The clicking grew louder in his ear, as if it recognized that he was panicking and decided to add to the recipe of chaos.
"You're hearing things in the wind, Matt. You're sick, let's get you inside and get you safe," Rykar said, annoyed.
"No, no, it was the pendant, I know it was," Matt argued, suddenly feeling nauseous. He gripped his stomach, his chest constricting him, and half fell out of his horse, struggling to get out of the stirrups. He was in the grip of a sudden panic, and somehow the chain of the pendant felt tighter, like it was trying to strangle him.
"Matt, get back on your horse! You're imagining things!" Rykar shouted, and something Royce said was drowned out by all of the chaos. Matt stumbled through snow and over rocks, grasping at his throat suddenly, feeling an even icier pall close over him. He found a slab of rock and fell back against it, reaching for the chain of the necklace and pulling it off of him, trying to free himself from its grip. He put his back to the stone slab just as Rykar grabbed him by the shoulders and took control of him. The stinging, painful slap of a mailed hand came across his cheek like a lightning bolt.
"Damnit, Matthew! Stop fucking around! Get the damn pendant back on and get on your damn horse! I don't have time for this!" Rykar swore, his face lit up with a sudden anger. He shook Matt aggressively several times before pushing him back against the stone and letting him go.
Matt was stunned and required another brutal slap across the face to come to his senses, if only momentarily. The whispers stopped and the panic attack subsided, but the clicking was still there, if more subtle.
"I...I'm sorry-"
"Get the pendant on, get back on your fucking horse," Rykar swore again, more fiercely. "Now!"
Matt was so unused to this kind of behavior from the normally calm, considerate castellan. He slipped the pendant back over his neck with a growing sense of dread, and stumbled after Rykar as they returned to their horses.
True, he had been acting differently the past few days, more introverted and quiet and easy to aggravate, but this was something totally different...maybe it was exhaustion taking its toll on the ever-vigilant castellan? He had never shouted like that before or directed his anger like that towards anybody who was his friend. Matt could tell, by the expressions pasted upon their worn faces, that Kellan and Royce were just as surprised and dumbfounded.
Matt hopped up onto his horse-the beast had forgiven him for his panic attack earlier-as Rykar leapt up on his.
"We've lost enough time to this horseshit now. We've got to get into the city," Rykar cursed, leading the way at a faster pace. Matt and Kellan, unused to riding horses even after doing so for the past couple of weeks, found it difficult to keep pace with Royce and Rykar, who were more experienced at the usage of horses. The snow was no help either; the storm was growing fiercer and fiercer every minute, moving in from the eastern sea and directing its anger upon the frozen land.
They found the old gatehouse, still standing sentinel over the cold stones of the outer city, battered by wind and its battlements covered in a light layer of wet snow. Matt kept his head down to avoid the wind as they entered, following Rykar. He was the only one with the torch; the only light came from him, and he used that small pool of light to study the buildings on either side of the avenue, looking for a suitable dwelling to take shelter in.
"This will do," he announced firmly when they approached what looked like a small business or home. It could've been anything, really; it was a squat one-story building lining the street, and in its heyday it could've served any variety of purposes. But now it was left to abandonment and was quickly becoming covered in a small layer of snow. Matt was glad that they could fit their horses through the entry door and found stone poles dug into the ground inside, onto which they hitched their horses.
"This looks like it used to be a bakery of some sort. These poles could've supported a bench or table, and I saw furnaces on one of the other walls..."
"Bugger what it used to be," Rykar interrupted Royce. "Who cares?"
"Well, it might be interesting," Royce retorted plainly.
"It's not. And it's not your business. Set out your bedroll, and get to sleep. We wake at first dawn tomorrow," Rykar ordered.
Royce did not argue; either he figured it was a lost cause, or he was too tired and was gladly prepared to get to sleep. Kellan seemed to be in a somber mood now; whether it was because he was just as exhausted, or whether Rykar's behavior had rubbed him the wrong way, he was quiet and put out his bedroll in a corner, preferring isolation to company. He even turned to face the wall, putting his back towards Rykar and Royce. Matt realized that he wanted to be left alone, but he put his bedroll down beside Kellan anyway. The latter did not seem to mind.
"Sleeping alone tonight?"
"Well, you're over here now. So I guess not," Kellan answered quietly, already closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry-"
"You're okay. I just don't want to be anywhere near...the two of them," Kellan whispered, hushed. Neither of the adults heard him.
"Neither do I. I don't know what's up with Rykar..."
"It's the cold that's got to him," Kellan said. "I don't wanna think about it. I just want to sleep, man."
Matt could respect that; he was just as tired, and all he wanted to do was get some rest. It might've been cold outside, but the stone structure provided them with some precious warmth and shelter from the freezing precipitation, something Matt was grateful for.
The wind began blowing even harder outside, and Matt fell asleep quickly to the sound of the rushing wind.
VVVVV
Matt woke up. He did not wake up in his bedroll.
He was surrounded by darkness. This was not where he had fallen asleep the past night. It was somewhere unfamiliar...different. New. Novel.
The blackness was all around him except for where he was. He could look down and see his hands, dirty and cracked and dry, and he could see the heavy boots on his feet. There was light somewhere, but it only encompassed him; all around him was dark. Pitch black.
He took a tentative step forward. He had been in this place before. It was not where he spent his days, but where he spent his nights.
That tentative step forward did pay off; his foot hit solid ground, as it usually did. The blackness beneath his feet did not help to give him any confidence, but it was solid, and he was glad for that. Another, and another, and he felt more confident about the "ground" that he was standing on.
Aren't you cold?
The thoughts returned; the voice in his head that repeated the same sympathetic line, but did nothing to help him. As he walked in the blackness, it kept repeating the same question, like a parrot.
He took another step.
Aren't you cold?
Every night, his dreams turned to this. And he would wander in the darkness, the lone source of light on the gloomy plane, listening to the voice offer its sympathy and watch him from above, mocking.
He started walking at a normal pace, ignoring the voice. It was almost comfortable in here, now that he was used to the darkness of the dream. Whatever was watching him sensed that, and decided enough was enough.
As he took another step forward, Matt flew head first to the ground, slamming his face into whatever made up the floor beneath him. The invisible force rolled him over as soon as he hit the ground, and his vision blurred temporarily. The darkness around him was now malicious, alive, swirling around him as the invisible force grasped his shoulders. He could feel the cold hands gripping his clothing, their chill seeping through the fabric and perforating his bare flesh, causing an almost unendurable agony. It was not natural cold, but the cold of a thousand years of grave, of ages long past, pure pain against his flesh.
And then that shaking feeling was real, and he was forced quite violently back into the cold of the real world.
"Wake up, damnit!" Rykar cursed, shaking Matt forcefully by the shoulders. As soon as the castellan saw Matt's eyes fly open, wide in surprise, he threw Matt to the ground and released him.
"God...what did...ah...hunh," Matt gasped, his eyes wide in shock. His entire body was shaking, and it took all of his will to restrain himself and control his breathing. Such a sudden arousal from such a deep dream had shaken him, especially in such a violent manner.
"You were causing quite a stir," Royce was quick to point out, sitting beside their makeshift fire and stirring something in a small cooking pot.
"Fit to wake the whole damn city," Rykar cursed, glancing into the pot.
"Aw, come off it, there's nobody here, it's abandoned-"
"So you think. Are you willing to just accept that possibility?" Rykar questioned him.
"Well, I mean, someone might've been following us, perhaps," Royce admitted.
"And if they were, do you want them to be able to find out exactly where we are?"
"Well, no-"
"Matt couldn't control it, just let him be!" Kellan spoke up. Matt hadn't even noticed him there, he was right behind him, still in his little corner of solitude. He was forceful enough, apparently; either that, or Rykar decided the argument was pointless. The latter dropped it where it stood.
Matt suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for suffering through his uncontrollable nightmare; that was the first time he had ever shouted during his restless slumber. He had had the same dream before, but without the violent, abrupt ending; it was always the dream of wandering through that empty void, of hollow footsteps and gnawing whispers.
"I've almost got breakfast ready. Rykar says he knows where to go," Royce said nonchalantly, stirring his stew.
"The citadel has everything we need. The coldforge is there, we just need to find it," Rykar muttered.
"Do you know roughly where we're supposed to search?" Royce inquired innocently, but he was met with a hard frown. "No," Rykar replied firmly.
"That might be a problem..."
"It bloody well isn't. We'll find it. Get that damn stew done and let's head out."
Royce was not very happy about being forced to rush; everyone seemed to be very fed up with Rykar's antagonistic and controlling attitude. But he was the designated leader, and he had gotten them through some pretty wild country; there was no reason to dispute him now, now that they were so close to what they sought.
Matt, as he was bid, ate his portion of the stew quickly, and prepared his belongings for the trip deeper into the city. Despite a restless night spent tossing and turning, Matt felt relatively energetic, if only because his goal was so very close. They were finally going to crack open that damn pendant...
They saddled their horses quickly, leaving what supplies they wouldn't need for the short journey behind in the bakery; they could come back and retrieve them on the return trip. Rykar led the way once more, down what appeared to be a main thoroughfare through the city. The wind was blowing lightly, but the storm of the previous night was completely gone and the only trace remaining was a light blanket of snow carpeting the frozen stony ground. The horses' hooves crunched through the wet snow with every step.
Iceport's citadel wasn't difficult to find; it stood out like a sore thumb squat in the middle of the center of the once-grand city, now looking rather abandoned and fallen apart. Some of the old stone towers had crumbled, caving in or just completely collapsing and spilling their stones below them.
Luckily, the main gate was unobstructed by debris; the portcullis had been bashed down somehow, and was now lying at an awkward angle inside of the gate, its left side propped up against the stone wall. The rust was quite obvious.
"This used to be the centre of commerce for the region, thousands of years ago," Rykar said dryly, giving them a brief history lesson.
"Was it that long ago?"
"Yes, this city is old. The architecture has held up surprisingly well," he replied to Matt, almost genially. "A tribute to ancient engineering."
"Now, I don't know which building accesses the lower levels...but I would bet that the main hall will give us what we need," Rykar thought aloud, dismounting his horse at what used to be a livery. The hitching posts, made of stone, were still standing, if not freezing cold to the touch. He looped his rope around one of the poles and the others followed suit.
"Leave your gear here," Rykar commanded. "No weapons needed, either," he reprimanded when he noticed Matt tighten the buckle of his sword to his hip.
"No...blades? What if-"
"They won't be necessary. I'll take a sword along, and if we come into trouble I'll take care of it," Rykar promised. "No weapons needed."
Royce let the handle of his sword slide back into his scabbard, almost raising his hands into the air.
"Alright, alright...you're the boss," he resigned, putting his weapon back. "I'll leave all of the fun stuff up to you..."
Matt was ordered to unfasten his scabbard and leave it with the horse, watched closely by Rykar. Royce reluctantly did the same, but he was allowed to keep his tiny dagger. As they prepared to depart, Matt saw something shiny sticking out of the saddlebag of Rykar's horse, and poked it lightly. It was the butt of the revolver, shining in the dim sunlight that was able to penetrate the gloomy scudding clouds gathering overhead. Without being noticed, Matt slipped the firearm out of the saddlebag and stowed it under his armor, hiding it away close to his hip where it would not be noticed. Thankfully, it did not make any noise as he moved, and it was not detectable.
Rykar led the three of them into a dim stone stairwell, lighting the way with his torch as they moved. The deeper they descended, the warmer it got; although the temperature could still be classified as "chilly", Matt appreciated the lack of wind down in the stairwell. Cold weather was always made worse by a brisk wind, which tended to sap more energy than the temperature did.
"The underneath of the Iceport citadel is quite a labyrinth," Rykar remarked as they reached a four-way turn. "Many twists and turns down here."
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Matt asked as they took a left turn, into the darkness.
"I know. I have studied maps of this place."
"Did you? Were they in the Vault?" he asked, trying to sound more curious than judgmental. He rubbed off wrong on Rykar, however, who seemed to feel challenged.
"If you would like to lead the way, Matt, feel free to do so," Rykar sneered at him. "But if you do not please to do so, let me take charge."
Matt fell silent after that; there was no use in upsetting Rykar even further. He was, for some reason, already irritated enough. They continued in the tight, cramped stone hallway until they reached a large, circular room, about 400 feet across, that seemed to Matt to be some sort of cistern. Old, jagged, broken clay pipes jabbed out of the wall at odd intervals, and some ran across the floor, evidence of use as a sewer system a long time ago.
"This is the main reservoir, yes...but I do not remember which...passageway..."
Rykar thought aloud, and Matt realized that there were at least ten exits to the cistern, all apparently maintenance tunnels that had long fallen into disuse. The cistern had been dry for quite a long time; up above, the grayish sky was blocked out by a large iron grate, which had somehow survived the wear and tear of the fierce surface wind all these years.
"You don't remember?" Royce asked him.
"Give me a moment, give me a damn moment," Rykar shrugged him off. "Let me think..."
He sat down on a rough-hewn stone and pondered each doorway, trying to recover his memory. Matt decided to distance himself from Rykar as much as possible, walking around the cistern and marveling at its size. Even with simple machines and strong tools, it would've taken at least a year or two to carve all of this out exactly to size. It was almost perfectly circular, Matt could tell; just by running his hand along the base, he noticed that it had an almost perfectly circular shape to it, the sign of master craftsmanship.
He caught some movement out of the corner of his eye; barely, but it was there. It was gone the moment he turned towards it.
Nothing. A bit of wind scattering snow. Your mind's playing tricks on you.
But he knew that it was entirely possible that someone was hunting them; he couldn't gather the courage to interrupt Rykar, so he warily continued along the base of the cistern, keeping an eye on the walkway that lined it up above, the one concealed by an overhang of sorts.
No, it's built into the wall. They dug it out of the wall so that it wouldn't protrude into the actual cistern, he observed.
"This place is incredible!" Kellan whispered as Matt nearly ran into him. He hadn't noticed the other man bending down over what appeared to be a broken pipe, studying it curiously. "To think, they made all of this, without any kind of machinery..."
"Yeah. Pretty...impressive," Matt muttered, turning one eye to another flash of movement up above.
"Ah, yes...it's the one on the right, the fourth one," Rykar said, just before a twang echoed throughout the cistern.
The arrow sliced right past Matt's cheek and missed him by only a hair. He instinctively shoved Kellan to the side, throwing himself to the right to unnecessarily dodge the projectile. His reactions were able to get him back up; he rolled over, crunching over several rocks as more twangs could be heard. He prayed that Kellan would be able to get out of the way or that the arrows had not hit him; his only concern right now was his own safety, and he rolled out of the way before clumsily leaping up and taking off at a dead run.
More arrows, most of them flying for him; it was dead luck that not a single one of the deadly projectiles hit Matt, coming close but failing to meet their target. He was running blind, racing for one of the apertures; somewhere along the line, an arm grabbed him by the far shoulder and steered him to one of the farther doorways. He tried to struggle, fighting the person now hauling him farther away from safety.
"Rykar-what the hell are you-there's a doorway that way, there's one closer-"
"They're dead ends!" Rykar snarled, breathing heavily. "This one!"
Matt couldn't fight Rykar, and in the end the castellan dragged him down one of the hallways, out of range of the phantom archers.
"What the hell-"
"Those were dead ends, Matt. You would've been cornered," Rykar snarled, bending over to catch his breath.
"That went to shit fast," Matt swore, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "All of a sudden...who-"
"I warned you that someone might have been hunting us, I told you before that it was a possibility," Rykar reminded him. "And our hunters decided to show up, wonderful timing."
"Do you know who-"
"No, I bloody don't know who they are! Could be anybody who knows we're here," Rykar said. "Any lord, any mercenary with enough coin...something worse, perhaps."
"Something worse?" Matt murmured, feeling a rising fear.
"I wouldn't know. But they want us dead, and I don't think you want to be dead, eh?"
"No..."
"Then follow me," Rykar commanded. "I'll try to find a way out of here..."
"What about the others?"
"Bugger the others, it's the pendant that's important!" Rykar scowled. "They're not the targets of our pursuers. They won't be hunted for much longer."
"Do you even know where you're going!?" Matt asked, realizing that they had to move.
Rykar didn't even bother to respond; he grabbed Matt by the shoulders and guided him further down the hallway.
"I can run by myself, thanks," Matt said, throwing Rykar's hands off.
"Just stay close, we won't lose them easily."
He followed Rykar at a dead sprint, through an endless maze of dark stone hallways that seemed to grow tighter and tighter as they fled their pursuers.
Rykar was right...this place is a labyrinth...are these all maintenance tunnels?
Seeing as they were connected to the cistern, they appeared to be nothing more than small conduits, or even sewer lines. Thankfully, the water had been drained out long ago...if these had been used for water transport. He didn't know, and he didn't care. His only concern was getting out alive, even if his guide had no idea where they were going.
They ended up in a circular chamber with only one exit; the way they had just come through. The tunnel had become a dead end. Matt had been the first one in, powering past Rykar when he saw daylight up ahead. It was coming from a ceiling grate about sixty feet above, a dim beam of light shining down on the rocky floor. The chamber wasn't small, but it wasn't vast either, and it was rounded just like the cistern.
"Rykar...it's a dead end, we're stuck-"
Matt found himself at the pointy end of a longsword's blade. He found himself standing three feet from Rykar, separated from his guardian and guide by three feet of steel, three feet of malice, three feet of deadly weapon.
"Rykar..."
"Of course it's a dead end. I know that very well," Rykar said solemnly. "I'm sorry, Matt."
"Rykar...your sword..." Matt struggled to connect his words together, suddenly failing to understand what was happening. It was almost unreal; was this a mistake, of sorts? A ruse? A something?
"I know where it is. I mean for it to be there. If you'll let me talk, I will tell you why."
"Are...are you going to kill me?" Matt gasped, his stomach suddenly sinking again and his throat tightening. The clicking was back, right behind his ear.
"I do not intend to, no," Rykar said curiously, a few seconds later. He cocked his head, seeming more like a curious puppy now. "Were you expecting me to kill you?"
"You...you've got a sword, at my throat," Matt choked out, trying to remain calm and seek an exit. He knew that, at this point, with Rykar blocking the doorway, there was no way he could escape. He would need to make a diversion, or get himself closer to the door. Ever so gently, he took one tiny step to the left, trying to circle his way around the room, but Rykar was onto him.
"Eh eh eh, no, no," he berated Matt. "You stand still. I'm not going to hurt you, unless of course you try to run out on me. I swear it," Rykar promised.
"Why?"
"Why won't I hurt you? That's a bit of a silly question. Do you...want me to hurt you?" Rykar posited, smiling ever so slightly.
"Why did you pull your blade on me?"
"I'll get to that," Rykar said. "But first, hand me the pendant."
Matt did not appreciate that.
"Er...you tell me your side of the story, and then I'll hand you the pendant," he countered pathetically. To his surprise, Rykar conceded.
"Fair enough. It's not like you're going anywhere. Take a seat if you wish, I'll even lower the sword a bit if it makes you feel comfortable," Rykar offered. When Matt refused to take a seat, he shrugged.
"Alright. Well, let me be upfront and honest with you. I was never on your side."
"Side? What side?" Matt asked, irritated as the clicking continued. He felt like it was difficult to breath now.
"The side of man. Humankind. I never allied myself with your race, even though I am one of you," Rykar explained.
"Rykar...you're not making sense-"
"Do you realize what you've been running from? What you're fighting? Are you aware that you are fighting something?" Rykar asked, taking obvious pleasure in his game.
"I'm fighting Stanislaus Antar, and the other people who wish to take the pen-"
"Besides humans. You're fighting something that is not human at all. You've been unaware that, this entire time, you've been resisting us."
"Us?" Matt asked, more perplexed than ever. He just wished that the stupid clicking would go away...it was driving him mad.
"Us. Those who have been here for millennia, from genesis...well, not me myself, but we fight as one. I serve the simulation, Matt. I serve...this," Rykar spread his arms for dramatic effect.
"The...simulation?"
"The world. The world itself is my master, the sentience bids me to fight for it. We humans have damaged it, we have hurt it and made it afraid, and now it is fighting back. You have been fleeing from it this entire time...but now, we have caught you. As you can see," Rykar smiled, flashing the steel of his sword. The sunlight glinted off of the blade.
Matt struggled to understand what Rykar had just told him. Was the castellan crazy? All of this made about as much sense as what Herobrine had told him before, and even that was more logical than this.
"You serve the game?"
"It's not a game!" Rykar hissed. "It's evolved beyond that. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"You sound insane," Matt shook his head. He was afraid that that would anger the castellan, but it did not. He kept his calm.
"This...simulation, that you live in now, it has its own mind. It is designed to have a sentient part to it. It changes, it evolves on its own, and while it is controllable by a creator, it is like a living world. Except it can think for itself. Does that make sense?"
"Hardly," Matt grit his teeth, but Rykar continued.
"Humans are a scourge to this world. We deforest, we mine, we burn, we build, we spill each other's blood and let the earth lap it up. How would you feel if you had to witness all of that happening to you, happening to the world you controlled?" Rykar asked. Matt did not answer, but that did not slow the castellan.
"That is how it feels. It has suffered through the conflicts of men, witness the burning of forests and the genocide of mobs, the slaughter of human beings from this world and the other. It sees these things, and it hurts. Put yourself into such a position, Matt," Rykar pleaded. "Think."
"Rykar...you're sounding crazy! Why didn't you tell me all of this before!?"
"Because you're not one of us, Matt. Technically, you're the enemy," Rykar told him.
"You led me here-"
"To take the pendant! I could not have done it back at the Ditch, I would've been slain! I had to isolate you...get you away from the lords and the soldiers and those who try to keep the pendant safe," Rykar scowled.
"Then why didn't you just take it from Brackwood Keep then?"
"I would've been caught. I had to dispose of it, and pray that it would be found by one of our servants...and then you found it. And came straight back to Brackwood Keep," Rykar said.
"What about Herobrine?"
"He thought I was guarding the pendant. He thought he was setting better events into motion when he learned that I threw the pendant away. He thought I knew what I was doing, taking it to the Ditch," Rykar hissed. "No, no, he fooled himself-"
"You lied to him," Matt accused, the clicking beginning to drown everything else out.
"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. What's it to you?" Rykar scowled, now visibly unsettled.
"You lied."
"Speak sense, boy."
"You lied to him. You broke your code of honor," Matt accused, now even more threateningly.
"Fuck your honor. What is the honor of men but empty words!? My duty is to it, it has been here far longer than the pathetic statutes of men have! These castles, these cancerous cities, they were all built by you warlike, barbarous monsters to suit your own needs! They don't live with the world any longer, they destroy it! What is honor to humanity, but a false promise to be broken when the time is right!? I have honor to nature, not to flesh," Rykar began to grow angry. His sword drew closer to Matt's throat.
"You've undone the work of all of your ancestors?"
"They defiled our family name!" Rykar spat onto the cold stone. "My most ancient ancestor died trying to defend this world from the humans who were breaking it. Jens died because he believed in the simulation, and he sacrificed his life trying to right the wrongs of humanity! And my ancestors have undone his work, trying to defend humans! And now it's time to complete the work of my greatest grandfather...he created us from nothingness, brought virtual life to us, and we are supposed to protect the simulation, not aid in its destruction!"
"This was all an elaborate ruse, then?"
"And you fell right into place," Rykar smiled.
"You deceived us all. I thought I could trust you with the pendant. You guarded it for decades."
"Waiting for the moment. Chaos brings with it a thousand opportunities, and when Lord Renn led his little civil war against Lady Lanos, I knew that I had my opportunity. I wouldn't have been able to run for it, but I'd be damned if I didn't get the pendant out of that castle. And then you came along," Rykar said.
"And you lied to me."
"Aye, I did. I wish you'd stop using that fucking word, but it's truth."
"Lying piece of-"
Rykar put his sword even closer, so close that the point of the blade made contact with Matt's skin. The latter stood stock still, afraid to move, even as the clicking grew louder and his vision began to blur.
"A man can be shit in one person's eye, and gold in another's. It's all in the eye of the beholder," Rykar said.
"You're shit to me."
"Eye of the beholder, Matt. Eye of the beholder. Now, the pendant?"
"Over my dead body," Matt spat, not sure if he was in control of his words or not. He reached his hand into his armor, parting the mail, but Rykar did not seem to have noticed.
"Now, now, let's not be uncivilized...I told you my reasoning."
"I hate your reasoning. You're a traitor to us, after all you've done in our service-"
"Not your service," Rykar reminded. "In the end, it all was service to it. Every move I made has come into my favor, yes?"
"You planned this all out...how did you know that it would happen like this?"
"There were a lot of vague details," Rykar shrugged. "I figured things would work out. I have a way of manipulating events. And remember, I am not alone. I have the entire world on my side. What do you have?"
Matt was silenced by this question. Rykar seemed satisfied.
"Now, for our business. The pendant, if you will?"
Matt's hand reached for the chain that felt ever tighter around his neck, beginning to pry it from his flesh.
"That's it...nice and slowly. Just hand it over, and you can go. I give you my word, Matt," Rykar promised.
That brought Matt to pause.
"Your word?"
"On my honor."
"Your honor is null," Matt said, letting his hand back down. He reached back inside his armor again, slowly.
"What did you say?"
"You've slighted your honor before. No...you have no honor! You've broken your oaths so many times-"
"You better hold your tongue, boy," Rykar warned, now threateningly.
"No. You're a liar, and I don't trust you. You've broken promises before, what's going to stop you now-"
"I said hold your damn tongue!" Rykar roared, raising his blade as if to strike. Matt had no idea whether he intended to bring the strike down or not, but he was not going to give Rykar the chance. His hand shot out of his armor.
The revolver roared, the force of the blast knocking Matt's arm back. Rykar's sword hung in mid-air, the steel glinting in the sunlight. For a moment, his face burned with anger, and then sudden remorse. He glanced down at the weeping crimson puncture in his stomach, before stumbling aside, dropping his sword and instantly letting his hands fall to his wound.
Matt took his chance to run. He ran, and he never looked back. He couldn't bring himself to look back, not at the man who had betrayed everything he had worked for. Even Rykar's desperate cries, gibberish to his ears, would not summon him back. He ran, praying that nothing would catch him.
Nothing did.