6. Path of Saints
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The winding walkway seemed to go on forever. The road had narrowed dangerously, but at least there were no more villagers or angels to threaten him. The Lucid One stepped cautiously, keeping his eyes ahead instead of peering over the edge to the roiling tempests below. Even the sea had become hidden beneath the clouds, yet still the path climbed higher into the heavens.
After what felt like eternity, he reached the end. To his puzzlement and confusion, the path ended at a flat brick wall, with no gateway or even window of any kind. The man frowned, wondering if he had missed another secret tunnel along the way. He could not reconcile his arduous climb with this apparent dead end.
While studying the architecture, he noticed the bricks were contained in a towering archway of stone. Gradually, he realized what had happened — someone had barricaded this portcullis and blocked the path. Someone was trying to prevent the awakened from reaching their goal. With his confidence fading, he desperately searched the wall for a way through.
As he approached, a familiar golden shape plummeted to the earth beside him. The man nearly fell over as the ground quaked, and he stared in terror at the angelic knight. It turned towards him, auric mist rising from its headless neck, and raised a saltire-tipped staff with a hollow roar.
The man rolled desperately as a streak of lightning struck the staff, then rippled outward from the knight's greaves. It scorched the stone road and nearly shocked the Lucid One, yet did not harm the angel. As the electricity faded, it gripped the staff in its massive gauntlets and pursued its prey.
Before he could stand, a second knight fell from above, its ephemeral wings fading as it landed with a crash. This one wielded an iron chain, which twirled in its grasp as it too gave chase. The man stared hopelessly at the gilded giants, and raised his silver cane in a feeble defense.
The chain was a blur. He felt its heavy links collide with his chest, and suddenly, his feet were no longer on solid ground. He soared back, tumbling through the air, then skidded across the stones in a limp pile. His body went numb while his thoughts continued to reel.
A massive gauntlet encircled him. He was lifted into the air as the angel began to squeeze, eliciting a sharp crack from his ribs and spine. The air rushed from his lungs at once, his eyes nearly popped from his skull, then he was airborne again. He landed in a lifeless heap, dangerously close to the cliff's ledge, feeling as if he were already dead.
As the angels closed in, something shifted inside his cloak and fell out. He watched the object bounce down the pathway, vaguely realizing it was the crystallized skull from earlier. He felt nothing at its loss. The treasure mattered little as he prepared for his certain end.
Thunderous footsteps approached, then suddenly, they were past him. To his surprise, the angels ignored him and chased after the bouncing skull instead. He watched, puzzled, as the nearest golden knight lunged forward, catching the treasure a moment before it tumbled off the edge. It lifted the glistening skull between its fingers as if appraising its find.
Something in the man's mind screamed to take advantage of his good fortune. His body was broken, but one arm still responded. He desperately dug through his belongings, searching for the emerald flask, as Volk's words came to mind. "It help you. Make strong." He prayed the titan smith had spoken true. He tore the stopper free with his teeth, then chugged.
As the Estus spilled down his throat, the Lucid One's eyes shot open. At first, it felt like he had swallowed liquid fire, but the sensation gradually subsided as his senses flared back to life. Even though his bones were shattered, stabbing him with each gulp, he ignored the pain and continued to drink. The fiery essence flooded his soul, igniting within him the urge to live, to fight.
He sprung to his feet, replacing the stopper and shoving the half-empty flask back into his pockets. Despite his burning confidence, the man knew that fighting would be folly. His only option was to flee.
He turned to the angels, still preoccupied by the skull. The one holding it brought his fingers together, crushing the bone and releasing a fine powder from within. The sparkling dust drifted down into its neck-hole, as if it too were drinking for nourishment, but the Lucid One ignored this curiosity and sought an escape.
The brick barricade stood tauntingly, every seam packed tight with mortar. However, he caught sight of a trail to his left, a narrow ledge that snaked along the soaring portcullis. Without hesitation, he rushed to the sloped path and slid beside the wall.
Another echoing roar almost made him fall as the angels resumed their pursuit. The man clung precariously as he shuffled faster, loosening stones that somersaulted into the infinite space below. The path was too thin for the knights to follow, but the one with the saltire-staff raised it high and summoned another flash of lightning. With a thrust, it released an electric bolt that streaked towards the trapped figure.
In a surge of sudden bravery, the man turned his back to the bolt and let himself fall. As his feet slipped into open air, he desperately clawed at the path, barely catching himself. He dangled off the ledge as lightning scorched the stones above. His broken ribs felt like a thousand daggers as he struggled to climb back up, and the air crackled as another bolt prepared to strike. He had just dragged himself onto the path when the electricity burst below him, causing the hairs on his legs to rise.
He was finally concealed from the angels' sight as he rounded the wall. He slid with his back to it, but the path grew impossibly small. He soon had nowhere to go, and looked around helplessly to escape his predicament.
A few yards back, the Lucid One spotted an opening. There was a round hole carved in the stone from which dirtied water poured, but it was far above his head. He stared in longing at the tantalizing escape, wondering how he could possibly reach it. As he pondered, he felt one of the stones jutting into his back, and spun in inspiration.
Despite its solid architecture, the wall was not entirely seamless. Some of the stone blocks stuck out oddly, time and erosion wearing away the expert masonry. Tentatively, the man gripped one of the exposed corners and pulled himself up, just barely able to reach the next. He rested one foot on the previous stone as he tried to locate another. He did not have to remind himself that a single mistake would lead to an endless tumble, and his certain doom. No amount of magical elixirs would heal his body from such a fall.
He spotted another stone within reach. He shifted sideways to grasp it, but his footing was lost, and the man held on for dear life as his legs flailed against the wall. His toes found the tiniest indent, just enough to give him a boost, then he reached desperately for the next exposed corner.
After a few more precarious struggles, he was nearly level with the sewer hole, except it was almost six feet to his right. He searched around, but there were no more niches to grab onto, and the drain protruded nearly a foot from the wall, even further than he was. There was no other choice.
With a suicidal leap, the Lucid One flung himself towards the opening, hands outstretched. Both touched the lip of the drain, but only his right held fast. He clung by three fingers, feeling himself slipping, and quickly brought his free hand up. The disgusting water trickled down his chest and splashed into his mouth, making him balk at its horrid taste. As his arms weakened, he grit his teeth and lifted his full weight with only his fingertips. If he could have screamed, he would have.
Thankfully, there were bent metal bars just within the drain. The man wrapped an arm around one for support, allowing him to finally catch his breath. With a few more heaves, he sat within the circular hole, ignoring the waste that soaked into his clothes.
Something about the sewer water unnerved him, though. Besides its putrid stench, he could feel it seeping through his clothes, and it burned as it reached his skin. Unable to rest for even a moment, the Lucid One dragged himself from the darkened waste, realizing it was poisonous, then carefully slid between the twisted bars and into the sewer. Poison or not, it was still better than what lay behind him.
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The tunnel continued straight for some time, but the water grew no less deadly. He edged along the wall, the soles of his feet occasionally slipping into the grime. The poison had soaked through his skin and was coursing through his veins, eating away at his fortitude, turning time against him.
The man reached into his pouches once again to produce the sapphire flask, filled with the pure waters of the well from his dreams. He drank greedily, but despite its healing properties, the draught merely postponed the poisonous effect.
As he placed the flask beside its emerald counterpart, he finally reached the end of the tunnel. He stared awestruck at the expansive channel he found himself in, its ceiling practically shadowed from view. Looming slabs of stained metal rested at either end, with chains running along their tops to intricate gears above. He assumed these contraptions had not been used in ages, and for a moment, believed he was trapped.
Then, he spotted a rusty ladder beside the ancient gateways, which led to a high platform. Despite its flimsy appearance, there was no alternative. He wished he could afford another swig of the golden courage called Estus, but instead, he gathered his resolve and began the dizzying climb.
Fortunately the ladder only looked unstable. He paused halfway to drink from the sapphire flask again, his health drained to dangerous levels. When he finally reached the top, he realized with dismay that the crystal liquid was nearly empty. Worse, there was a single door locked from the other side, its solid metal unyielding. He peered over the opposite end of the platform and found another ladder that had rusted away, crumbled to pieces among the sludge below.
As the poison burned at his insides, he desperately sought a solution. His eyes fell upon a lever attached to the great chain, blending into the tarnished metal, and he eagerly tugged at it. To his relief, the lever gave way, and the chain began to slide with a resounding groan.
The enormous gate opened, allowing a rush of sewer water to flood the area below. His hopes sank as it rose steadily, realizing he would have to wade through the muck to move forward. Then, something across the tunnel caught his eye.
He peered across the rising floodgate and saw two hooded figures. They appeared human, but their faces were concealed behind porcelain masks, elongated into drooping bills like a bird's. They carried lanterns in one hand, and a dark walking cane in the other. Both stood motionless, unreadable, staring back from behind glass goggles. Suddenly, they turned to the door behind them and vanished.
A wave of anxiety struck the Lucid Ond, as he suspected they had gone for reinforcements. He hastily returned to the ladder and descended its exorbitant length, landing with a plunk in the thick waters below. He waded ahead as the poison stung his body, his eyes fixed upon the next lowered gate, and the intact ladder by its side.
He eagerly climbed the rungs. By the time he reached the upper platform, he felt violently ill. There was another door, locked yet again, and the lever here was jammed. It took all his strength to force it over, but at last, the next sluice grated opened. By the time he climbed back down, the man could barely see. He hastily produced his flask and sipped the last of the well water, barely enough to keep him going. He pressed forward, refusing to admit the hopelessness of his situation.
It was just past the next gate that he noticed the pile of bodies. A ferry had been crushed against the wall, and more of the bird-masked men lay strewn about, some floating in the muck and others pinned by their splintered boat. One lay bent backwards over the bow, his spine snapped and a broken oar through his body. All around them were wooden barrels, each one marked with the telling symbol of a skull and crossbones.
The Lucid One knew he should press on, but a flash of color caught his eye. The bill of a corpse's mask was cracked, revealing soft purple underneath, and he instinctively went to investigate. To his surprise, the bill was packed full of violet flowers, their aroma cutting through the awful stench of the sewer, and he immediately recalled their purpose.
The man quickly snapped the bill, pulled out a handful of mossflower, then began chewing them. The purple petals released a pungently bitter juice, but already he could feel it purge his insides of toxins. A wave of relief washed over him as he hoisted himself onto the broken boat, a temporary relieve from the poisoned waters. He still felt weak, but at least he was freed from a slow death.
Using the other end of the broken oar, he dragged the floating bodies closer to inspect their masks. Each one was packed full with the purple moss, which he eagerly looted. He only paused a moment when he saw one of the corpse's faces, its pale skin and blackened tongue speaking to its cause of death. The herbs could only do so much against the deadly water, apparently.
While filling his pockets with purple mossflower, another object caught his eye. He slid the body closer and snatched a slimy key-ring from its belt. Despite his fatigue, his spirit soared. He prayed to Nos that one of these keys unlocked the metal doors far above.
As he prepared to drop back into the waters, pockets full of petals, he realized there was a small side passage with more corpses. With his new immunity to the poison, he dared to take a glance down the tunnel in case any more treasures lay within.
Instead of treasure, he beheld an abomination.
The tunnel ended promptly in a grated drain, and pressed against it was a massive squid-like creature, its tentacles wound through the iron bars. Its skin was gray and rugged, like stone, and it lay perfectly immobile among the bloated bodies of the bird-men. The Lucid One was torn between inspecting this monstrosity or fleeing, and finally decided to take one of the corpse's lanterns and throw it.
The glass shattered against the rocky creature, and still it moved not an inch. The man frowned, certain that it was dead, but unsure why it seemed so statuesque. Regardless, the stinging sludge urged him on, so he pushed the mystery from his mind and returned to the rusted ladder.
Once he was back on the platform, he began testing the door with the slime-coated keys. On his seventh try, he heard a click, and the door swung wide open. He breathed a sigh of relief, his breath scented by the mouthful of flowers, and entered into a soaring stairwell. Glowing lanterns emitted a pale light, using crystals instead of candles for illumination, casting deep shadows against the stone.
The Lucid One kept a cautious ear out for any of the living beaked men, then quietly ascended the stairs, amazed that his feet had not fallen off from all the climbing.
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At long last, he saw light at the top of the stairwell. He urged his weary legs onward, his breath rattling in his throat, and finally emerged from the dark tunnels. He was blinded momentarily as his eyes adjusted, but when they did, his enthusiasm quickly evaporated.
He stood atop an expansive rampart, stretching as far as the eye could see. It encircled a majestic cathedral, which he could only assume to be the Basilica of Saint Andros, a masterpiece of architecture. Dozens of spiraling pinnacles thrust high into the clear blue sky and pierced through the billowing white clouds. Strangely, there was no sun in sight, yet rays of light fell all across the cathedral regardless.
The view was breathtaking, but this was not what drew the man's attention. Placed all along the ramparts were long poles with wheels attached to the ends. Atop these wheels were human bodies, tied down by chains in a spread-eagle pose, their withered arms and legs wound through the spokes at impossible angles. As he stared at the ghastly sight, he recalled what Sentinel Edson had said.
"A proper sky burial."
An involuntary shiver ran down his spine, and he forced his eyes away from the atrocities. He had no doubt those men were once sinners, deserved of their fate, but he still felt a sting of empathy for them.
As his gaze drifted back to the Basilica, he spotted a wide walkway leading to the front gates. However, thick glaciers coated the walls and froze the golden doors shut. The man searched around in confusion, then spotted two smaller walkways leading away from a decorative kiosk, which was positioned halfway to the main entrance. As his eyes traced these walkways, he beheld the belltowers at either end. In a rush, the Well Maiden's words returned to him.
"The path is guarded by divine protection, which can only be broken by ringing the Bells of Clarity in unison."
He had no doubt that these were the bells she spoke of, but immediately, a new dilemma arose. How was he to ring them together if they sat so far apart?
His pondering was interrupted as movement caught his eye. He ducked behind the parapets in sudden alarm as a trio of angels marched towards him. They patrolled all along the ramparts in groups, the familiar golden knights flanked by a pair of hovering archers. They were far off, but the Lucid One could make out their conical helmets, silver bows, and elegant wings. They appeared to have no legs beneath their chain-link skirts, which billowed from gilded breastplates.
Before he could devise a plan, a deafening roar exploded overhead. The man cowered as a gale rushed by, and a great shadow washed over the ramparts. With a final beat of its spiny wings, the scaled drake landed atop the kiosk, which seemed ready to break beneath its enormous bulk.
As one, the angels rushed the cerulean beast to defend their Basilica. The dragon shrieked again, electricity leaping from its fangs, and the Lucid One covered his ears as the din of battle erupted all around him.
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Appendix
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Dreamer's Skull — A crystallized skull belonging to one whose dreams were pure. Use to distract certain enemies. The dreams of humanity are a priceless treasure, and there are those who yearn to claim them as their own.
Lightning Spear — A miracle of the Radiant Legion. Hurls a bolt of lighting at the enemy. Heliphon was the inheritor of lightning, which he passed on to his angelic warriors.
Purple Blossom — A flower used to counteract the effects of poisons and toxins. It is a common practice of Inquisitors to stuff their billed masks with these petals, to avoid contracting illness.
Slime-Coated Keyring — A keyring found within the poisoned waterways of the Basilica. Its numerous keys can open many doors. Only the Inquisitors are allowed access to these depths, as their clandestine activities are shrouded in secrecy.