Chapter 3

The Reliquary

Ben Finn watched from behind one of the suits of armor as the heroes entered the reliquary. Samuel glanced around the room quickly, then closed the door behind them. He remained silent as Samuel hurried with Saul into the other rooms of the academy leaving Garth's old books and armor as well as the entrance without a watchful eye over them. Ben moved quickly from behind the armor and tried to open the door, struggling with its complex locking system.

"Damn! Reaver just tapped the thing and it opened. How am I supposed to get this open…" Ben Finn stared at a central circle on it which appeared to be a key hole, "Maybe there is some sort of key around here. Something I might use to follow them," he looked at the four suits of armor carefully but found nothing. He looked around the library, seeing if anything caught his eye. Nothing stood out, until he reached a strange book which read, Seals of the Guild of Heroes.

"Hmm…isn't this what the Queen uses? A Guild Seal…maybe that's how she opened the door! But where do I get a Guild Seal?" Suddenly Ben Finn heard a guard yelling at Samuel.

"Have you seen Major Finn? We've got a fight in the main yard that Saker's trying to deal with, as well as a woman with dreadlocks demanding to see the Major. Apparently, she's that street rat who was elected to be mayor of Bowerstone."

"Mayor of Bowerstone…you mean Page? Did you just call Page a street rat? What's wrong with you soldier? Page was, and still is, one of the most important members of the Queens court!"

"Begging your pardon sir! I meant no disrespect!" The soldier saluted. Ben rushed out and got between the two before Samuel could hit him with a book, as he was about to do.

"Samuel, I'll take care of this chap. You've got those rare books to deal with anyway, don't you?"

"I suppose…" Samuel lowered his hardcover weapon and went into the rare books room, where people had crowded in a long line to get the books. Ben Finn turned back to his guard, not allowing the insult to Page anger him.

"Quickly, get some men on the gates. I'll deal with Page," Ben said, opening the Academy doors and hurrying out.

"Yes sir!" The soldier said as they ran, turning off to down an alleyway were several men were on break.

"Page is in a huff, and the old Hero of Will is in Brightwall. I'd say there's a high chance Reaver is behind all of this," Ben muttered to himself.

"Hmm..Many of these old volumes are mine. A large portion of these are written in Samarkander. Some of these are my tomes. Others are just histories of the various peoples of the world," Garth said thoughtfully. He'd again lost focus on his hatred for Reaver, and was more interested in his works than the immortal. However, as soon as he turned around and saw the man, he felt that hate swelling up in him again.

"Reaver, where are my other things?"

"Ah, yes, this way," Reaver said, suddenly, as if waking from a dream. He tapped his cane on the ground, and then continued down a path which led to a large staircase overlooking a great cavern. The stairs were lit by a large amount of candles which Garth assumed to be magic. Garth watched the man carefully as he waltzed through the reliquary, humming tunelessly to himself as he considered the situation. Reaver had been staring at him. He hated the blank looks of wonder and amazement most gave him at the site of his ethnicity and Will lines, but Reaver's stare was even more sinister. Garth didn't know what Reaver was scheming, but he was sure it couldn't be good.

"Here we are! Welcome to the dank and dark arenas of the reliquary. Here, Sparrow fought hollow men for sport and tests of strength. The old brute," Reaver said with a growl, standing outside of the arena. Wisps of the undead monsters flew into the ground and, in response, long dead, lightly clothed skeletons burst from the ground. The hollow men started to shamble slowly toward Reaver, who sighed and held his cane up.

"Defenses down, my dear friends." Reaver tapped it on a side of the arena and the hollow men collapsed into a ragged assortment of cloth and bones, the wisps sent away by some unknown magic. Garth simply stood behind the man, waiting as he started through the arena.

"Are you coming old chum?"

"How are you doing that?"

"Why Garth, you expect a man like me, who holds his cards so close to his chest, to give an answer to that question? This has given me one advantage over you my glowing blue friend. Surely the most dedicated Samuel quickly closed the reliquary behind us, leaving us trapped in this cavern with one way out. My way!" Reaver said with a smile. Garth felt anger rising in him. Reaver had led him into a trap, and he'd fallen for it. But surely Sparrow wasn't so stupid.

"This reliquary has one entrance and exit?"

"Oh, now there you go trying to be factual."

"Reaver, you're a bloody mess." Garth said massaging his temples. He had to stifle a laugh. Reaver was an evil man, with a great number of dark schemes and tricks. But he was also an endearing man, which made him very hard to hate in his presence.

"Why, Garth! You've complimented me twice in one day. Strange words for someone so bent on revenge," Garth regained his composure and clung to the last shreds of loathing he could find and pointed a flaming hand at Reaver.

"Reaver, where are my other things? And why haven't you tried to prove once that you destroyed Samarkand? Are you trying to keep me unfocused on the issue?" Garth said. He felt the hate again at the thought of his home in dark flames. It gave him focus on his task. As terrible as it sounded, he liked to be able to hate again.

"Actually yes. Despite one so impartial and reasoned, you seem to have ignored your very creed. If I distract you, let your intense hate toward me lessen, then you might be able to look objectively at the situation. I can't prove anything to you if you're ready to burn me for a misaimed sneeze now can I?" Reaver said, deviously. Garth was about to hit him with all the power he had then stopped himself. He lowered his hand and unclenched his teeth. He straightened and folded his arms. His hatred for the man was being replaced by a hatred for himself. He knew that everything Reaver had said was right. He'd lost his objectivity. He'd lost his ability to reason with situations. He felt as though he'd been stabbed and all the hot air that was his anger was coming out. Suddenly, with a cry of rage he summoned an earth spell (a new spell he'd learned in Samarkand) and sent a broken column crashing down into the depths of the cavern, rumbling the foundation of the reliquary. Reaver watched, and then looked back at Garth, his face showing the slightest hint of anxiety in his famous devious smile.

"Ahem…everything alright, Garth?" Reaver's voice was a little shaken, and almost sounded worried. That show of power, in which Garth let out his anger, had actually scared Reaver. In fact, this may have been the most scared the immortal had been in a century.

"Yes, now let's go. Lead the way," Garth said, folding his arms again and looking down at the ground, breathing deeply.

"Yes…indeed," Reaver turned around and started away, with Garth close on his tail.

"Alright, so what did she do to you?" Ben said, almost uncaringly tapping his foot. Page was standing behind him, and had demanded that he deal with the fight before she would speak to him. He waited as the Brightwall citizen scowled angrily at the Auroran before him.

"Well," the man said, hawking deeply and spitting onto the dirt street, "My home in the Old Quarter was destroyed in the Revolution. I didn't complain or raise fuss 'bout that when it happened, or when that part of the city was turned into a museum. When the queen raised taxes to help stop the Crawler, I didn't raise a ruckus either. I took the opportunity to better myself, and moved to the country for some good character growth and peace and quiet!" Ben sighed and rubbed his head. This man had obviously taken his new country living a little too seriously.

"I don't care why you moved out here. I do care, however, why you hit the Auroran."

"This foreigner came up to the village with the intention of starting a fight! It wasn't my fault we had a scrap! Frankly, I think we should have colonized the land and made them work, instead of openin' our arms and welcomin' them in our cities. Bunch of sand covered rats is what they are," The citizen said. He grabbed a small amount of dried tobacco from a pocket and shoved it in his mouth, chewing it hard. Ben assumed he was also drinker based on his speech.

"I am shocked that this man would be allowed to speak to me in such a manner. I am a peaceful, law-biding Auroran with the intention of enjoying the Academia Extravaganza, as well as to donate a large portion of the world famous Auroran library to the Academy. I am not a foreigner. I am an Alban, just like all of you. The Queen understood this when she built the desert fort. And surely you understand it, Mr. Finn. Our leader, Kalin sends her greetings to you. And you as well Page." Ben Finn sighed as the Brightwall citizen got riled up again.

"Look, even the way she talks is suspicious! I don't know why the Queen doesn't do something about these foreigners. First a strange, glowing man from Aurora blasts everyone with a fireball, then this girl here is trying to be miss elitist with me." The man spat what appeared to be another large amount of tobacco out onto the ground. Ben Finn grabbed the man's shoulder and started walking him into the pub.

"Alright, tell you what. You leave the foreigners to us, and just enjoy yourself. We'll keep a careful eye on all these people, okay. Now sit down, let me buy you a drink. Barman! Get this man whatever he wants, on the house."

"Why thank ya mister…you'd better put an eye on those Dwellers up from Mistpeak too. Their kind is bad news. Mark my words!"

"Don't worry. We'll take care of it." Ben Finn sighed at yet another racist comment and left the pub quickly. He went to the Auroran, begging for forgiveness.

"My lady, I am so sorry. I know it's a poor excuse, but many of the people of the Bowerstone Old Quarter who have moved here find country life difficult, and some embrace it too easily. The point is, many struggle to really be at ease here. I hope this hasn't ruined the festival for you."

"Oh, don't worry; as long as he is not still going to try to hit me, I don't care. Bigotry is better answered with defiance than violence anyway," the Auroran said, showing a truly educated side of Albion's people. As Ben Finn tried to start away, the Auroran grabbed his arm.

"I would, however, agree that the Samarkander wielding magic is of great concern to Auroran and Brightwallers alike. I believe he may have ruined the festival more than any tobacco chewing country hick," she said. The woman bowed and went toward a market stand which was selling rugs, possibly to pursue their Auroran offers. Ben Finn rubbed his head and looked back to Page.

"Welcome to Academia Extravaganza…" He said with a shrug. Page put her hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault. However, someone is to blame, and that person is in this village. Where is Reaver?"

"He's deep within Brightwall Academy. I can't get to him. He's behind some secret door,"

"Hmm…is he coming back out of that door?"

"…I don't know. I assume he can't stay down there forever, but…"

"Good, tell your men to stay on guard for if he comes out. When he does, we'll get him and his mage friend. Until then, let's relax a little. Becoming mayor was hard work, especially in a city which contains Reaver's factories," Page said, letting out a deep breath. They started toward the pub, but soon found there was no room to even stand, much less have a nice conversation. Ben Finn took a few drinks and walked Page back to his home, which was a small house next to the chicken racetrack.

"So, how come you don't live in the barracks? I thought all seasoned soldiers lived like that."

"Well, one of the benefits to being an officer is a house. I've gotten used to the soft beds and hot meals." He said with a laugh.

"Hmm…"

"What?"

"When we were out in near Blackhorn, and you were riding to save the town, you had this look on your face. Honestly, I thought you were truly a hero when I saw you. That look just flashed by…" She said, suggestively reaching out her hand. Ben didn't move as she took his hand in hers.

"…Ahem…when you…you saw that flash…you…"

"Did this?" Page said, reaching forward and kissing the man. He slipped deeper and deeper into the kiss, until a gunshot broke them apart.

"Ah! What was that?" Page jumped up and drew her pistol. Ben grabbed her arm and pointed to the chicken race outside, then looked back to the woman.

"There are some…detriments to living so close, but I always get a good view," Ben said beaming. Page smiled back, then looked out and watched the race. "Alright Ben, you got a chance. Don't mess this up,"Ben Finn thought, slicking his hair back. He noticed the sun was setting and had an idea.

"Page, have you ever been to…Brightwall bridge? It's the most romantic place we have in town."

"Yes, I could not have come into the city without it. But I would love to go there with you…" Page said, allowing Ben to take her hand. They started out of the house, completely forgetting about their shared hate for Reaver.

"And, one more turn, here…and an obstructive group of hollow men which I can shut down as such," Reaver turned and tapped his cane on the wall once again. The hollow men collapsed into a mess of bones. Garth watched him as he held his walking stick and finally made the connection.

"What's so special about your cane?"

"I don't know. What do you think is so special about it?" Reaver said suggestively, trying to start a guessing game. "Likely as a distraction against his boredom," Garth thought, "Adventuring must've seemed dull to the man after two hundred years of life."

"It must be legendary."

"Oh, so close, yet so far…" He said, walking down another flight of stairs into a small hallway to the far side of the large reliquary caverns which amazed Garth. There, a skeleton of a small man was strewn out with a notebook. Garth stopped to read the man's notes, but Reaver tapped him gently with his walking stick and pointed forward.

"Everything of value this man had, or might have had is gone. Let the dead rest," Reaver said, continuing forward. Garth stood up and followed him, trying now to be as neutral as possible.

"Since when are you concerned with the dead resting?" Garth said in perfect monotone.

"Oh come now Garth! Even I am not that low…well, there was that one time with Marcus…anyway, the dear Queen does not hold my commitment to the slogan: rest in peace. She raids this place regularly for money and treasures, and cleaned out that man long ago."

"Hmm…" Garth said as the two heroes turned another corner and reached yet another of the vast, open caverns which the mage struggled to comprehend. "How could such large tunnels exist like this?"the Samarkander thought.

"This was originally a Hall of Heroes, long ago. It was abandoned when Sparrow found it, and he added a few wings to it. A lot of the paths you see here have existed since Scythe and Nostro founded the Hero's Guild." Reaver explained, to which Garth wondered if the man had gained the ability to read minds.

"Why was this created? Why did Sparrow put all of our things into this place? What purpose does this place hold?"

"Whether you believe it or not, Sparrow was a vain man. This was originally a place for him to hide his things. He wanted only his hero daughter to inherit his possessions. His common son Logan was not so deserving of these treasures."

"I see. And…"

"And…it has also served as a tomb for an old friend of ours…" Reaver crossed over an old bridge and stood before a door. He tapped his cane a few times, but the door didn't respond.

"Oh, right, this needs a key…" Reaver said, pulling out a comically large key-ring and unlocking the door. Inside were two large stone sarcophagi. The ceiling above them was open to the outside. The moonlit stone tombs had an eerie feel as Garth approached them slowly, touching the first one and wiping away the dust to read the inscription.

"Kieran…beloved husband of…" Garth froze, then held his proper monotone, "Hammer, Hero of Strength. That means that this…" the Mage walked over to the second tomb, and read its inscription.

"Sister Hannah of the Temple of Light…Mother Superior of the Warrior Monks of Snowspire Temple." Garth said, losing his monotone and closing his eyes at the sight of a former friend's grave, the Hammer he had seen so often slung across her back resting at the end of her tomb.