Chapter 30: Till Death Do Us Part
"Is everyone in position?"
Soft murmurs of confirmation greeted the hushed query from Erik, and Rav'el nodded.
The Undead chef was crouching near the entrance to a tunnel which led deep into a series of old passages ways that at one point had been the basement of a mansion and the rest of the town. Now though, naught was left but ruins. These depths were the perfect place for the recently arrive Basilisk swarm to dwell.
With Erik were his two companions as well as Pride-Leader Rav'el. Behind him were a dozen Lionkin armed with axes, ready to storm the tunnel and drive out the monsters within.
The plan was simple, use his Cryomancy to sap the strength of the beasts and use that as an advantage to kill them. Erik couldn't use his Pyromancy because in the tunnels the Lionkin's guest was hiding. The fire would suck out the oxygen of the enclosed space and hurt her. Instead, he'd have to settle for ice.
Taking a deep breath, Erik reached out his left hand and placed the palm onto the dirt. Focusing, he let the magic work itself into the soil before he ripped the warmth and heat from it, and frost quickly began to crackle and pop along the interior.
Surprised croaks came from within, though they quieted down after a bit. Erik kept it up for a moment longer though as he didn't want to leave anything to chance.
"OK, let's go!" Erik said, standing up and drawing his long sword. Creighton gripped his axe, Benhart clutched his sword's hilt, and Vengarl bared his teeth. The Lionkin readied themselves as well, and with a muted battle cry they swept inside.
It was nice and easy. The Basilisks were reptiles and the enchanted cold had done a number on them. Some had even died where they'd stood. None of the invaders took any chances though and stabbed them repeatedly just to make sure.
The group encountered several piles of eggs that had frozen over, and Erik carefully extracted some of the smaller ones and placed them in the Bottomless Box to use as caviar in a future dish. Erik also took the time to slice off choice cuts of Basilisk meat as well. He earned some odd looks, but in the end food was food and the Lionkin had no problems with feeding on the flesh of monsters.
At last, after several winding turns, the group encountered the King Basilisk. Its massive form was riddled with wounds, and there was ice creeping up along it. Yet the monster lived, it chest heaving up and down in spite of everything. It was lying in front of an iron door that Rav'el confirmed to be the one they wanted, and Erik sighed.
He stepped forward and conjured a large ice spike before hurling it into the oversized Basilisk. This close he couldn't miss, and it went clean through its head, killing it instantly.
With a groaning sigh it perished, and with that anticlimactic act, the mission was over. Of course, had Erik not been there this would have been impossible as none of the Lionkin could use Sorcery or Pyromancy strong enough to wipe out dozens of Basilisks at once.
"Help me carve off some of the meat," Erik commanded, and the order was passed along by Vengarl, which was grudgingly accepted by the Lionkin. As they butchered the remains, Rav'el approached the door hidden behind the carcass and inserted a key into the lock, opening it.
"Oh! The door opens! Amazing! Amazing! I thought I'd never get out!" A chipper female voice declared, and Rav'el bowed politely at the unseen speaker.
"It is a pleasure to see you still live, Soulsmith. I could not face the Brass Knight if you had perished."
"Oh, she's a scary one but not all that bad! And I was only trapped for six months, eight days, and eleven hours! Hardly any time at all!"
Erik blinked at the odd conversation, only for his jaw to drop when he saw the thing that stepped out from the doorframe.
It had the body of a female human, but the arms were giant black feathered wings and their head was that of a crow! Even though it was naked there was no lust when Erik looked upon it, just a strange sense of unease. The souls of the Old Witch and Old King rumbled a bit, but remained calm. Apparently this thing was an ally to them, or had been at one point.
The beady eyes of the female monster flickered to Erik, and she began to chirp excitedly. When she appeared, Benhart had taken a step back in shock while Creighton snorted in surprise. Neither became hostile, but neither did they relax their guard as it rushed toward their culinary friend.
"You! You have many souls! So bright and strong! I could make amazing tools from them! Yes I could!"
"Um, hello? I am Erik Potts of Lindelt, ma'am. And you are?"
The crow-woman gasped before taking Erik's hands in her wings.
"Apologies for not introducing myself! I am Ornifex, Soulsmith of… well, I can't say, but it's a pleasure to meet you, Monarch Candidate!"
"Ah, you know who I am?" Erik said sheepishly and Ornifex nodded.
"Oh yes, how could I not? Your soul is so bright and shiny! Plus I see you carry some very old and powerful souls. What else could you be?"
"My lady, perhaps we should leave this place before speaking some more?" Rav'el suggested and Ornifex shrugged.
"Very well. Lead on!"
The group made their way out of the tunnels and back into the fresh air. They were met with much rejoicing when they did. The Basilisk menace was finally gone!
Tark even crawled out of his den despite being wounded and he bowed before the crow-woman in greeting.
"No need for formalities!" Ornifex said cheerfully.
"As you wish, Lady Ornifex," Tark said with a smile. "I'm glad to see you're back."
"Is your wife…?" Ornifex began, and Tark nodded sadly.
"Still broken and mad, I'm afraid. I have no choice but to…"
"Look, as touching as this reunion is, some of us have places to be," Creighton said, interrupting the tender moment. Glares were sent his way but he returned them in kind before facing the two demi-humans.
"We need to go to the Brightstone Cove. Are you going to help us get there or not?"
"Very well. We shall make preparations to remove Lady Najka from the entrance," Ornifex said stiffly, but Erik stepped up.
"Actually, I wish to try something."
~ ~ / / ~ ~
"I still do not believe this will work," Creighton grumbled, pushing a makeshift trolley up a slight incline towards a fog gate.
"If Sir Erik's cooking could heal my aunt, then I see no reason why it could not help these two poor souls," Benhart argued, helping move the loaded transport while Erik hovered nervously to the side.
It had been a shock to hear the plan Erik had come up with. Use his ancestor's magical cooking to heal the wife of Tark? But when Erik claimed he had undone the Chaos transformation on Queen Mytha, their tune changed.
Benhart had then shouted in surprise to hear his ancestor was still alive. And then Erik had been surprised that the stern and proud knight was related to the sultry woman he'd met at the Earthen Peaks. And then Creighton had asked that they stop getting surprised and get on with the explaining!
The plan was simple; cook a meal for Najka and hope it restored her body and mind.
The theme of the food: A wedding. So Erik had whipped up a small wedding cake. It was now on the hastily built trolley and Tark was accompanying them, just as nervous and eager as Erik to see this work. Just behind them the Lionkin and Ornifex watched in curiosity.
At the gate, they all took a deep breath and stepped through, letting the cold wash over them. Inside it was a sandy arena with the naked upper torso of a woman sticking out of the sand. Even in the grip of madness she was dazzlingly beautiful with her blue eyes and raven black hair. She looked up as the intruders appeared, but went stiff when she spotted Tark and the food. She tilted her head, confused, and the mad light in her eyes dimmed.
Erik cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union between Tark and Najka, who are to be joined in holy matrimony."
Tark had revealed that they had never had an official wedding, and it had been Najka's greatest desire while captive and experimented on, and even before then. But it had never come to pass. Capture, then mutation, then fleeing… never any time. Yet that was going to change.
"Does the groom have the ring?" Erik asked, and Tark stepped forward, holding out a blue and silver ring with a dragon design etched into it. At the sight of it Najka stirred and rose from the sand, revealing her body.
Pale blue shell like her husband, but with smaller claws and two long stingers, Najka was clearly deadly but her homicidal rage was dulled by the performance going on in front of her.
"Do you, Tark, take Najka to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Erik asked, slightly cringing inside as he took the role of priest. It was blasphemous, but for a good cause. The gods would forgive him for that, surely?
"I do," Tark whispered, scuttling forward. Najka too approached, unsure at first but with determined steps after a moment.
"And do you, Najka, take Tark to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"…I … do…" Najka croaked, her love overcoming her madness. Tark rushed to embrace her, and he slipped the ring onto her finger. The fog gate slowly fell away, allowing the audience to watch.
"Would you care for some cake?" Erik offered, gesturing to the trolley. Under the scorpion couple's watchful eyes the chef delicately cut the white frosting covered decadence, and held out a crude stone plate with a hefty slice on it to the wife.
She took it, gave it a confused look, before taking a bite. A long pause drew out as she chewed slowly, before swallowing and hastily shoveling the rest into her mouth.
Najka let out a deep sigh, before she blinked in surprise and a dreamy smile crossed her features. Then, she began to glow.
A ripple of golden spilled out and enveloped her entirely, before she suddenly turned to Erik and smiled.
"Thank you."
She then turned to Tark and gently cupped his face with her hands.
"I'm sorry." She drew him into a deep kiss, and the light grew brighter, only for her to suddenly begin to turn to motes of golden light, leaving behind the ring in the sand and a gold and red soul. Tark fell to his knees, clutching his head and whimpering.
"W-what?" Erik stammered, confused. He took a step forward before stopping.
"Why didn't it work? It-it was supposed to turn her back!" Erik grabbed a piece of the cake and tasted it. Everything was fine. Taste, texture, odd soul energy… He'd followed the Soul Cake recipe to the letter, same as with Mytha. Why hadn't it cured Najka?
Suddenly, the gold-red soul rushed towards the chef and touched him…
"Oh, who are you?" A handsome man riding a horse had appeared in her private glade. Well, it wasn't really hers, but she had found it, so it was her secret spot!
"I'm… Najka. Who are you?"
"I am… Tark. May I rest here for a bit?" The young woman with raven hair thought for a moment before nodding.
Swirls of gold and autumn leaves danced, and the seasons passed. The mysterious man had approached her time and again, and each visit was the high light of her days. The court was so stuffy, and all the nobles so boring! But this man… Tark was kind and sincere. He treated her well not because of her status but because he was a good man. But today was the moment of truth. She had to reveal the secret. It might cause him to hate her, but…
"My name isn't really Najka," she said slowly. "My full name is Alicia Dorom Trinday Najka, Crown Princess of Venn!"
"My name isn't really Tark!" He admitted in a rush. "My full name is Carlyle Dominik Valn Tark, Crown Prince of Alken!"
The two had blurted their secrets at the same time. At first there was an odd pause, then the two began to laugh, and then cry, and then embrace each other…
"Your highness, run! Alken is invading!"
"Impossible! Carlyle… no, he wouldn't…"
"WHERE IS THE WHORE WHO TURNED MY SON AGAINST ME?!"
Pain pain pain loneliness pain. Trapped in a tower in the accursed Lost Bastille, separated from her lover… Only the strange magical bell and the funny dwarves that had one day appeared before her gave her any comfort. The chiming of a bell brought a rare smile to her lips.
Time blurred and melded, and a hallucination appeared before her. This one again? Stop it, it hurt…
"Alicia! I'm here! We have to go, now!"
"Carlyle? Is-is that really you? You're not a dream?"
"I promise I'm real! But we have to go now, the Gargoyles won't stay down for long!"
Freedom joy happiness joy joy love! After so long her beloved had come for her! Her Carlyle… now they could spend their lives together… A family together… children… if they had a daughter, her name would be…
"Surrender and you won't be harmed." Men in white robes surrounded Alicia and Carlyle, and to the side the skull masked warrior who had aided the prince of Alken lay dead. They trembled. There was no other choice…
A Dragon! It screamed at her, it yelled at her, it cursed her name and soul! She wasn't who it thought it was! She was not the Daughter of Izalith! She was not...
PAIN! More pain, only pain! That accursed duke, those two damned dukes… how dare they?! Carlyle… no, who was that? What was his name? He was in the cage next to hers, always holding her hands… Tark. That was his name, wasn't it? He smiled whenever she called him that… Then was her name Najka? That was what he called her… So she smiled.
No! Don't take her away! Don't take away her baby! She screamed and cried and fought but the damned man who reeked of Darkness and Fire and Dragons merely laughed as he took her child from her. How dare he?! How dare he?! Hadn't she suffered enough at his hands! It might have been a monster she had been forced to carry in her womb but it was hers none the less! Beside her Tark screamed his defiance and rage but was restrained by golden masked guards. It might not have been his, but she was his wife! They had made their vows! No! Don't take away her darling Shanalotte!
A knight in dripping red armor appeared, cutting apart the cages and the monsters within. Tark rushed to her side and tore away the bars of her prison with his claws… Wait, since when did he have those? He grabbed her hand. They ran. They ran. Away from the darkness. Away from the spiders. Away from the screams and the pleading. Away from Tseldora. Away from Aldia. Away from the Pale Drake who never stopped screaming at her… Away from her baby… Away from Shanalotte with her purple and brown eyes…
Erik collapsed to the floor, tears pouring from his eyes as the soul's memories faded from him. Beside him Tark was writhing on the ground, screaming and wailing, tears of his own dripping from his face.
Everyone was staring in shock at the display, unsure if they wanted to approach or not.
"Tark… Carlyle… your father loved you… he's so sorry…" Erik whimpered, the soul of the Old Iron King wailing in pain along with his long lost son.
"Why?! Why? It hurts so much! Why does it hurt so much?! Why do these images keep popping up! I want the pain to stop! Please, make it stop!" Tark begged, and Erik crawled through the dirt to approach the man-scorpion. He reached inside himself and the chef drew out two soul, both throbbing and pulsing with golden vibrancy.
The Monarch Candidate all but threw the souls at Tark, and they sunk into him, suffusing his flesh with a pale glow and his thrashing began to slow down and eventually stopped.
"I-I remember," Tark whispered as he came to a stop. "Everything is clear. I remember it all. Oh gods, why? Alicia… father… my darling baby girl…"
Two men cried together under the stars, uncaring about appearances or who was watching. They shared in utter pain, and were comforted by two souls.