I looked down at the huge slumped balor with a distasteful grimace. Despite the enemy, we were fairly well off, and all I had to show for the fight was a few nasty bruises across my arms and sides; injuries that would have killed me in an instant had I attained them in my true form and not that of the earth elemental.
I'd shifted into the hulking stone elemental as soon as we'd seen the latest guardian, charging ahead and outpacing Valen with my massive steps.
I'd purposefully placed myself between the tiefling and the devil, taking the brunt of the damage and forcing the entirety of the balor's focus on me. I'd peppered him with punches as Aribeth had weakened him from afar. Her god's light had burned the devil's flesh, which was now a mess of boils and sludge that was too disgusting to look at. As we'd fought, Valen had been frustrated, shouting something non-too-flattering at me. But, thankfully, his anger hadn't been nearly as bad as it had been in recent fights. And — despite Valen being less involved than he would have liked — we'd made fairly quick work of the giant devil; my new form and Aribeth's divine spells making for an efficient team.
"I'd happily go the rest of my life without seeing another of these," I said, landing a swift kick to the balor's side. I scrunched up my face as the tip of my boot came away sticky.
"You and me both," Aribeth agreed between one ragged breath and the next.
Valen's eyes danced dangerously between blue and red as he dragged his eyes away from the felled devil. His eyes were hard, his focus on m, and for a moment, it seemed as if he were about to say something. He opened his mouth and closed it, then opened it again. I didn't say anything, watching the war of emotions play across his features. Eventually, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and dropping his shoulders. When he opened them again, the frustration — whilst still there — no longer seemed as if it was directed at me.
I didn't realise I'd been holding my breath until he placed his flail back on his hip. I released a sigh, one that was both relieved and exhausted.
Hard as it was to keep time, I suspected a little over a day had passed since the close call with Grimgnaw and his friends. From there, our journey had continued through a labyrinth of rooms and tunnels. It was all laid out like a puzzle, one that had dwarfed the mimic's lair in both size and difficulty.
To top it all off, travel had proven dangerous. None of us had dared to sleep, subjected to the constant and unnerving risk of falling into the platform's surrounding lava. We'd been forced to continue travelling across the tiny floating islands in search of the exit, each island too small to rest, let alone sit.
Valen had been silent, keeping his distance as much as the tiny islands had allowed, eyes always downcast in an attempt to hide the ever-growing flecks of red in his eyes. Each time Aribeth or I had been required to cross the lava with him, he'd tensed up; face tight with something akin to pain.
Wiping the sticky what-ever-the-hell-it-was from my boot, I insisted on a couple of hours to recuperate, despite Valen's restlessness. Deekin had been all too happy to flop to the floor in a heap, head resting on his crossed arms and bum in the air. The little kobold closed his eyes with a sigh.
Valen and Aribeth kept as much distance as they could from the fallen devil's corpse as I'd attempted to make myself comfortable. My back had been resting against my pack, as I rested my eyes and listening to the sound of Valen's tail swishing and Aribeth's pacing.
An hour ticked by and then another, and — once I could wait no more — I packed up and woke Deekin.
Now, at the apparent end of the maze, we were rewarded with yet another planar door.
"If this doesn't take us to the Knower of Places," I said. "Then I quit."
Deekin grasped his little claws around my wrist as Aribeth, with her hand on my upper arm, gave me a nod. Beside her, Valen was the last one through, his hand on the kobold's shoulder.
On the other side, we found ourselves in a dark hall filled with a kaleidoscope of lights and colours. Images flickered over the walls constantly — like a kid's nightlight gone wild. As I watched, each picture showed us beautiful vistas and alien cities, the likes of which I had never seen before.
I lifted a hand to touch one such city — with a skyline of glass buildings that could only come from my homeworld — but an image was all it was. The city rippled beneath my fingers.
The others were as amazed as I, quiet with wonder as we watched the scenes shift and change before our eyes.
"Sigil?" Valen suddenly whispered in wistful recognition.
My eyes snapped to the image that had drawn his full attention.
The city was massive, with hundreds of buildings that were all crowded around a reaching spire, impossibly tall for a world without cranes. The sky was — inexplicably — the skyline of more buildings, all turned on their head.
I frowned, trying to make heads or tails of what I was looking at.
Valen noticed, his smile warm when he said; "The image does not do it justice."
I was reminded again of our promise of after with a stab of guilt.
He sighed. "I look forward to seeing it again." His eyes searched for mine. "But I admit, it is feeling more and more like a pipedream."
I managed a smile, small though it was. "We'll get there," I promised him.
The vision suddenly changed to a more rural scene. Aribeth gasped, pushing gently past Valen.
"That's our tree!" The paladin paused, seeming to remember herself. "It's where Fenthick and I first kissed…" She sighed. "Gods, but I was so innocent then."
We walked slowly down the length of the hall, strolling past scene after scene.
"That be Deekin's home away from home!" The kobold exclaimed proudly, pointing at a cave that looked just like any other. "Well, when he nots be following Boss towards certain death." He frowned. "Or dead dead."
Despite my exhaustion, I felt my lips twist into a brief smile.
Then, with a sudden jolt of recognition, I was drawn to one of the many new images.
It was the view from my decking; the far-off suburbs peeking out from between the trees. It was a view I would recognise anywhere, one I'd admired as we ate dinner on the deck every night, before the chill of Autumn would chased us back inside. My breath caught but — instead of the tears I'd feared — a smile pulled at my lips once more. I could practically smell the barbeque…
I felt Valen's presence by my side as he observed the simple yet beautiful view in silence. The back of his knuckles rubbed against my own, and I felt the heat of his gaze.
Interrupting our thoughts, a new voice spoke; feminine and lilting. We were no longer alone in the hall.
I spun to face the owner of the voice, fingers pulling from Valen's tentatively reaching grasp.
"You're here at last!" She exclaimed in delight.
I was immediately floored by her alien beauty.
The first time I'd seen an elf — Drogan's Harper colleague, Ayala — I'd been similarly speechless. At the sight of the Knower, I was struck again by how little of this world — and those in it — I'd seen.
The Knower of Places represented a human only in shape; with huge black eyes, multifaceted like a bug. She was tall and willowy, skin alabaster white. On her back fluttered four overlapping wings, each with their own unique pattern of glassy greens.
I heard Valen's surprised intake at the sight of her, and I forced myself not to turn a raised eyebrow.
Jealous? Enserric mused with a chuckle.
"Tired of waiting, are you, planetar?" She asked me with a gentle half-smile. "Twice now, you have come to me, yet my answer remains the same."
I could feel my companion's stunned confusion.
"I am not the planetar," I explained to her carefully.
She paused. "Why would you deny who you are?" she asked, clearly disappointed. "You may not have his skin or his wings, but you wear his ring." The Knower reached for my hand.
I pulled out of her reach, noting the hurt pinching of her face at my rejection.
"The ring belongs to the Sleeping Man," Valen explained. "He lent it to us."
"Boss be nothing like pretty angelman," Deekin piped up helpfully.
The Knower's wings batted furiously as she considered my companions. Eventually, her eyes found mine once more. Her thin white lips were pursed in distaste.
"The ring speaks the truth," she insisted. "It fits you perfectly; even though you crafted it for the woman you wait for." She pushed through the breaking of her voice. "Come, let us talk awhile, as we did once before. You may ask me anything you wish... except for more questions of where. That you have already asked."
I sighed, pulling the ring carefully from my finger and watching the poor woman's face drop in realisation.
At last, she finally and truly looked at me.
"Oh." She sighed, nodding her head in resignation. "Whether love was in his heart or not, it was a pretty wish to think he would come back to me." She blinked her glassy black eyes rapidly. When she spoke again, her voice sounded flat, bereft of the innocent hope that had lined it before. "What is it you would asks of me, stranger? You may have more than one question, but one answer is all I can give."
I opened my mouth, the words dying on my lips. I wished nothing more than to ask her where I would find a portal home.
But, to find it, I needed to get out of Cania first.
I pushed through the pang of uncertainty. "We seek the Knower of Names," I said.
And so she told us where her sister would be, merging the Sleeping Man's ring with another so that it would now lead us to the Knower of Names when worn.
"Go now." She waved a hand, her wings fluttering in irritation. "Leave me, so that I may forget about you, the way he has forgotten about me."
She opened a portal for us, white snow with a dusty pink horizon all we could see of the other side. Exhausted, but with nothing left to say, we funneled through, side-by-side, hands on our weapons.
It took me only a few disoriented moments to realise that she'd dumped us right in the middle of one of the bloodiest skirmishes I'd ever seen.
We had row seats to the Blood Wars.
I barely had time to deny the truth of it; my fleeting thought of 'we don't land right in the middle of the fight in the game!' inconsequential.
As the sights and sounds of the bloody battle assaulted us, we didn't even have time to consider turning back, the portal snapping shut with resounding finality.
I drew Enserric, hearing the telltale ring of Aribeth's own sword and Deekin's crossbow being loaded.
I glanced nervously to the tiefling by my side.
Valen was frozen in place, staring all around us in slack-jawed disbelief.
All around, the snow was crimson mush, devils and demons alike bleeding into the ground from massive slashes and gouges. The air was hazy with smoke, fed by the long dead torches scattered throughout the battlefield. I stared at the writhing mass of beings locked in combat and I gaped at a charging group as they pushed back against a wall of armed soldiers with a unified roar of rage and pain. I tried to tell the difference, spotting the occasional creature I knew to be a devil or demon, but in the chaos they mainly looked the same.
It shamed me to realise I could easily imagine Valen as just another foot soldier in this never ending war, lost to his demonic nature and looking only to the next fight.
A screech pierced through the sounds of battle and the haze of my surprise.
"Move!" Valen roared, shoving me aside.
I leant into it, forced to drop Enserric as I dove out of the way.
And just in time.
I barely avoided the downward stab of a giant spider's blade-like foot — a bebelith my frantic brain warned me. Five more armour-plated legs followed the first, sinking into the snow all around, staining the white with pops of red.
It screeched again, a horrible sound like fingers on a black board.
I jumped between its forest of legs, ducking and weaving and doing my very best to not be skewered.
I had no time to wonder how the others fared.
I drew one of my knives, the small weapon barely scratching the creature's hard-shelled legs with each pass.
Another leg stabbed the snow, inches from my face and I skidded to a halt, a shout dying in my throat.
Slashing out wildly, the knife caught between the plating.
It pulled from my grip. I left it.
I fell back into the snow just as another bladed leg cut down in front of me.
Scrambling back, I gasped in relief at Valen's roar
His flail connected with the leg, the creature's angered screech ringing in my ears as it turned its attention to the tiefling.
Drawing my bow, I backed away, my sole focus on keeping Valen safe from other's attention, as he brought down the massive demonic spider. As he fought, devils and demons alike began turning to try the demon half-blood fighting his own side. My arrows flew true into the heart of any that dared to come close to him.
The bebelith gave a final bloody screech, and — before the creature's massive torso even hit the ground — Valen was turning. He barely considered his surroundings, before rushing a small vrock with a roar. It turned too late from its engagement with a massive blue devil to do anything. Its eyes widened in surprise, wings flapping uselessly, as Valen's flail connected with its stomach. He kicked it back with a grunt of effort, immediately charging the blue devil.
With sinking horror I realised that more heads were turning his way, eyes narrowing as they considered the tiefling fighting both devil and demon alike. They started closing in, forcing me back as the head of my arrow darted from shape to shape in desperation.
There were too many of them.
"Valen!" I shouted frantically.
But, either he didn't hear me, or — more likely — he didn't care. They fell on him with hisses and roars of anger, and I caught a glimpse of his face as he spun, flail knocking multiple enemies off their feet and forcing them back.
He was smiling.
I was forced to leave him; their numbers too great, the enemy too close. There was nothing I could do, just me and my bow.
The rest of the fight was a frantic blur.
Desperately fighting back stragglers, Deekin and I eventually found each other, relief flooding my system to see him still intact. We killed anyone that came too close, firing into devils and demons alike, back-to-back and watching each other's six. His singsong humm cut through the shrill wind and bestial shouts, giving me something to focus on over the rising panic.
I don't know how long passed before Aribeth carved a path to our side, sword just as bloody as her armour. Once she found us, she didn't stray, keeping the bulk of the horde away from us, face grim as she swapped between fighting the swarms and healing herself.
Every few minutes we would hear a familiar roar and catch the faraway glint of emerald armour, but — for a long time — those were the only signs that Valen still lived.
Eventually, the horde started thinning, the time between each wave increasing. We followed Valen's path slowly and carefully, my heart thudding painfully in my chest.
He felled devil and demon alike, carving a path of destruction through the bloody battlefield. There was no goal or logic to it. Only the need for blood.
Devils and demons screamed in pain, clutching their grievous wounds as my bow twanged, sending snakes of death into what felt like a neverending army. All around, the wind blasted us furiously as the frigid cold continued, unaffected by the chaos of the aptly named Blood Wars.
I stopped only when I had no more arrows left, Deekin having used all of his bolts long ago, and Aribeth her divine spells.
Impossibly, we were still alive when the bulk of the armies were not, most having either retreated through summoned portals or dead or dying on Cania's snow. It was there that I finally came back to myself, peripheral sounds and sights returning to me.
Looking around, I realised with sudden understanding that the sky had not been dusty pink, as it had appeared through the portal. It was simply the once white snow, stained with blood as far as the eye could see.
We stood on a ridge, fearfully watching Valen finish the last of the army's stragglers.
He chased them down, one-by-one with a look that swung from pure rage to unhinged bliss.
He dove at a tiefling, crimson red spraying his face as he tore a chunk of his throat away. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. As he pulled away, licking his lips, I realised — were it not for his bright emerald armour — I would hardly recognise him from any of the other demonic half-breeds we'd fought and killed today.
His flail flung left and right, each blow connecting with a horned head, a snake-like torso, a red throat. More blood stained his armour as he tore his flail from one devil's neck and swung it across the face of another.
He revelled in the destruction, his dance as mesmerising as it was terrifying and his flail was an extension of his body. Watching him like this, I couldn't imagine an enemy that could stand against him.
The wind howled, merging with the cries of those whose deaths were nearing.
I saw his lips twist upwards in a bitter smile as he considered some of the still twitching bodies. As he stalked the battlefield, he felled any who dared cry out in pain. I heard the word 'betrayer' hissed from one demon's lips as it carried on the wind, followed by the wet thud of Valen's flail.
Wasting no time, he stalked towards another devil, eyes intent, lips pulled back in a grimaced snarl.
The devil reached out a barbed arm, wicked clawed fingers grasping at the bloody snow as it tried to rise. Its yellow eyes were full of pain and anger.
My stomach clenched in recognition. Everything else fell away.
I broke out at a run, leaving a stunned Aribeth and Deekin behind as I morphed into the earth elemental.
The transition was slower than last time, my exhaustion making it almost impossible but for my desperation. The added speed of my hulking form carried me away from the warning cries of my companions as they scrambled to keep up. My massive feet stomped through the snow and bodies alike.
Valen paused, head snapping up at the sound of my pounding footsteps.
He braced for an attack, digging his feet into the ground. A wicked smile lit up his face, the look dropping into confusion as I veered away from him.
I rushed towards the devil, skidding to my knees and ignoring the sting of pain as I shifted back into my true form.
I levelled a knife at the devil's throat.
"Who are you?" I screamed over the wind, tears flooding my eyes as I pressed the weapon harder against its throat.
It blinked at me in surprise and I pressed harder. My eyes darted consciously to the devil's clawed hands.
Though I was exhausted, bleeding, bruised — my muscles were still hardened and strong from over a year of training and fighting.
And — stronger still — was my sheer bloody will to survive.
I twisted aside just as the weapon came down on the spot I'd been kneeling and I gasped as I felt the rush of air as it almost took my head off.
The flail head thudded into the devil with a wet thump. Blood sprayed into the air, the creature's low groan the last sound it made.
I darted away, sweat-soaked hair hanging in my eyes as I pulled my knife up desperately.
Valen turned.
He was breathing hard, tail lashing angrily. Blood and gore dripped from the flail's heads, splashing at his feet.
I saw his eyes flash in recognition, his weapon lowering ever so slightly. "Emma," he said. But his voice was a feral snarl, a mockery of his usual low timbre.
My eyes darted to just over his shoulder, to Deekin and Aribeth's small forms as they attempted the snowy ridge as quickly as they safely could. They were still too far away.
I tightened my grip on my knife.
He threw aside his flail, his weapon landing on top of the dead devil with a thud. He tilted his head and smiled, throwing his hands wide to show he was unarmed, but the action didn't bring me any comfort.
I swallowed at the fiery red detachment in his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest.
Between one breath and the next, he charged.
His shadow swooped across me as I slashed out wildly; my own need for survival pushing aside any thoughts for the man beneath the demon.
He battered my knife aside, snarling as I opened up a cut along his hand as he forced it from my grip. And then he was on me.
Wind rushed out of my lungs as I fell. My vision erupted in light as my back sunk into the snow, his weight pushing me deeper again and forcing the last of the air from me.
I gasped desperately, pushing against his weight with my knees. He forced them aside, locking his legs against mine with a chuckle that set my hair on end.
I tried to kick, buck. But he was too heavy, too strong.
"Valen," I gasped desperately through one pained gasp and the next.
I scratched his face, forcing his head back as my fingers found purchase. He grabbed at my wrists in his hands with a snarl, pulling them above my head with one hand and dropping more of his weight onto me.
I pushed my head aside, unable to bring myself to look at the swirling red of his eyes. The weight of him above me forced my face deeper into the snow. I felt his too hot breath on my cheek, each of his breaths coming out hard and short. Tears welled in my eyes as I desperately searched the bloody battlefield for my companions.
His knee found purchase between my legs, pushing.
At my resistance and desperate bucking he pushed his wrist harder on my throat, snow crunching beneath me. My vision erupted in a flash of whiteness, and — for one horrible moment — a shrill ringing overrode his deep growl, chasing away all thoughts. I forced myself to gasp in what air I could, fighting the growing darkness encroaching on my vision.
Fight! Live!
I clenched my eyes shut against the feeling of his searching hands and hissed as his teeth found purchase on my throat.
I couldn't move. I couldn't fight. As his teeth dug deeper and deeper, his hands lower and lower, I couldn't do anything but cry out.
So I did.
"Oeskathine," I wheezed, gasping in desperately for air. "Oeskathine the Demonwrestler…"
Between one panicked thud of my heart and the next, I feared I'd gotten his true name — the only name I knew — wrong.
But then his whole body went rigid, his breath coming out hard and fast against my burning throat.
It was all the opportunity I needed.
I pulled my knee up, catching him in the groin as I shouted my first command.
"Stop!"
And everything went still.
NOTEBOOK EXTRACT
The scribbling on the page is Jane's recognisable writing style, mainly revolving around the use of True Names. The page is a mess of contradictory thoughts and fears, along with potential uses for different people's true names.
Underlined beneath it all is the following sign-off;
...But should a True Name be used to change someone?