Amanita (Chapter 4)

Template:Amanita nav "Ah yes, the old gate: a ring of stones in what is now a lonely field. It existed before our monastery was built, and may stand even after all signs of us are gone." Akara's wrinkled lips curled up into a faint smile. "Though I certainly hope not. The gate stones are enchanted to create portals to several locations, depending on the order in which they are activated. These were obviously important places for those who built the circle, though much time has passed and for many of them, nothing now remains. Tristram may be reached by the gate... but I am at a loss to recall its specific code."

"Try to remember," I said.

"All the codes were recorded in my personal library, in the annals of our order. Tristram's code would be used only infrequently, and was written down close at hand; I saw no purpose in committing it to memory. Though all is not yet lost."

I smiled. "Of course not. I'll just fight my way into your personal library. While I'm in the neighborhood, I might as well find out who took over the monastery and get rid of him. Don't worry, it isn't too much of a bother."

"Hush, child. It will be much simpler than that. Further up the pass, an ancient tree of prodigious size stands in a dark wood. Travelers were accustomed to leave messages there, and many of the gate's codes were carved into its bark."

"How convenient."

"The wood is some distance from here, but an underground passage you will find near the gate should afford you a much shorter journey."

"It just gets better and better," I laughed. "Do I get a porter to carry my luggage, too?"

"Sadly, no. There is little more I can offer you but my fond wishes that you will find what you need in Tristram."

No "come back and see us again" or "good luck staying alive." Guess I didn't make a good impression. When I left, Kashya got her chance at Akara. I hid behind a tent and listened. I'm as curious as the next person about what people say behind my back.

"Luggage?" Kashya started off, louder than she should have. "She came here with nothing but black leather boots and a thong, what luggage?"

"Calm yourself, it was only an attempt at humor. She is a capable warrior, and I will not speculate on her choice in apparel, though I also wondered at it."

"At least. Akara, what are the Viz-Jaq'taar? She said she was one."

The old woman went silent. When her voice crept back like someone being summoned to an angry boss's office, it was too quiet for me to hear.

The Viz-Jaq'taar, the Order of Mage Slayers, also known as the Society of Assassins. We make people nervous, even ones who aren't sorcerers. When you think about it, that's not too surprising. We're a secretive order -- we have to be. Our quarry is among the most dangerous in the world, and the less they know about what's coming, the better. A society with a good cause shouldn't have reason to hide, most people think, so they don't like secret societies, especially ones dedicated to killing. The only reason I told Kashya is because I didn't think I'd be seeing her again. Maybe killing the enemy and vanishing into the sunset would even help our reputation a little.

Kashya and Akara were talking in low tones. It looked like they were going to try to keep it quiet, so in this tightly-packed camp, everyone would know before I got back from my next run. No point sticking around, then. I'd know how they took it soon enough.

I was on my way to the waypoint when a new guy stopped me. He was skinny and pale, with lank white hair and the fullest pack I've ever seen in my life. "Howdy doo!" he almost yelled. "Somebody called for a porter?"

Oh, great, he thinks he's funny too. "Hi there. Sorry, all I need to carry are some old boots and a thong. Who'd you say you were?"

"I'm The Mule, your gorgeousness! Love the pants, but wish you'd stuck with the thong. Here, take this, you'll be needing it!" From somewhere in the pile on his back, he handed me a crossbow with a steel bow and a stock made out of two twisted iron rods. "That there is Leadcrow! I'll be back later with some other things."

All I could think to do was blink stupidly at the crossbow. I'm not usually like that. By the time I was satisfied that it was indeed a crossbow, he was gone. I never even got the chance to scan him. The bow looked fine, with no residual demonic vibrations. Its power was obvious... it looked very strong.

Following the land upwards, I quickly found the gate stones. Just like Kashya said, there were five of them, in a little ring of five with another stone a short distance away, like the stem on a flower. They were taller than me by a lot, but I'm used to things going over my head. When I got closer, a small group of demons came out from behind them. Instead of red, they were baby blue. Did they know what I was coming for, or were the stones just a good place to hide? Whichever, it didn't save them. The new crossbow was spectacular, I felt stronger just holding it. Good thing, too -- one of the little bastards zapped me with lightning before he died. I was glad to keep him far away.

The more powerful crossbow made things a lot easier. There were more little devils -- normal red ones and a few baby-blues -- but a lot more skeletons and some big goat demons. Once it has rotted down to a skeleton, killing a zombie with a bow is difficult. You have to hit the joints and other weak places until it falls apart. A club would do a better job, but these ones had bows they weren't very good with. I was actually safer at a distance, a rare thing with archers. The goat guys were persistent, and took a lot of shots to kill. Aiming for the knees didn't work nearly as well as you'd think, with their funny-looking legs.

The field was big and wide open, without a lot of places to hide. The trees were all burned down, and the grass trampled flat. A lot of times I found myself running halfway back to the Rogue camp with a crowd of goats behind me, trying to snipe them down to size. Still, it wasn't big enough that there should be another Horadric waypoint there. I know they built them all over, but I couldn't see any reason to have two so close together. Maybe this was a more important place a long time ago. I found several primitive-looking headdresses made of animal skins, which I doubt anyone had worn for a long time, and a woodsy magic-type charm that rattled with beads made of animal bones. At least, I hope they were animal.

Every once in a while, I came across a cloud of predatory birds, flapping around in a flock like predatory birds aren't supposed to do. They also lived in nests, masses of who-knows-what held together with phlegm and evil thoughts. Even if they didn't attack me, I probably would have killed them just for being unnatural. Nowhere was there any sign of who or what lay at the root of this. I did find a moldy old book in a ruined house, but it was just local history about some neglected murderess. These demons weren't the kinds mages usually summon, so I didn't know much about them.

Back in camp, I could see word had gotten out. Everyone stared when my back was turned, and no one would look at my face. Warriv got really interested in stocking the fire. Gheed was hiding under his wagon, showing that every cloud has a silver lining. Charsi wouldn't talk at all, she just fixed my stuff and mumbled only what she had to. It bothered me more than it should have, like I'd stomped on a butterfly or something.

It took me a long time to find the underground passage Akara mentioned -- it was near the gate stones, and I'd decided to look everywhere else first. These caves were just like the others, full of demons and zombies and everything else that hates the light. The entrance was guarded by a group of high-quality skeletons with bows. They were actually better archers than me, so I fell back into the shadows, dropped the bow, and charged when they came close. Archers hate it when you do that.

The passage twisted back and forth for what felt like miles, with lots of dead ends and loops to get lost in. I would up leaving bodies in certain places to mark my way. I also found my first clue about the demons, when I was attacked by a pack of Misshapen, recognizable by their huge heads and bent, crippled bodies. Lightning runs in their veins, so lightning sorcerers like them and use them either as guardians or a source of raw materials. To get them, you have to bargain with demons of despair, pain, or the upper air.

A few groups of little demons had shacked up in the back corners or the cave. There were a lot of dead Rogues in there too, probably killed trying to cover their retreat. Every pack had one or two dead Rogues on the fire. All right, maybe they are more dangerous than a half-dead spaniel. Either that, or in the tight passages, the demons couldn't run away to escape combat, and fought harder. I was alone with no one to protect, so it was easy for me to lure them away from their leaders and pick them off from hiding. On a lower level, I found some possessed Rogues. These ones hadn't changed as much physically, and still had their hair. One even had a bow, though she tried use it like a club.

By the time I found the other end of the passage, it was dark. The shapes of trees loomed black on every side, throwing deep shadows everywhere. I could already tell I was going to like this place. Faint in the distance, a few feeble torches and the baby-blue backsides of a legion of demonlings introduced me to my next set of targets.

Blue demons are tougher than red ones. Maybe the color is supposed to be lightning blue or icy blue and look scary, but it doesn't work at all. The camp was big, with several leaders and a couple dozen possessed Rogues. These girls had their hair and no bows, but used spears to charge in a phalanx. Knocking them around psychically almost wore me out. In the end, I ran. Chasing me gave them a little exercise, until they got tired and lay down.

As a personal challenge, I tried making my way through the camp by hand, dousing torches as I went. A few times, I could sneak right past a whole group of baby-blues and cut their leader's throat before he even knew I was there. Darkness isn't always an enemy. The little guys really worked themselves up trying to find me, sometimes to kill me, other times to know where to run away from. Once the leaders were dead, target practice began. They never ran as fast or as far as the red guys, though. One or two almost took a piece of me home with them.

On the other side of the now-dark camp, I was moving into some trees, when the "trees" suddenly moved. Darkness isn't always your friend, either. It was a group of Bigfeet, led by one with fists the size and consistency of maul heads. Pushing them back took everything I had. I ran, I hid, I even tried to fool them with the body of a dead Rogue, nothing worked. Finally, I stopped concentrating on the big guy (I couldn't make any progress in his head anyway) and started picking off his buddies. That worked better, so I led them in a circle around the demonling camp, whittling them down. With the big guy, I had to use my katar. I wasn't carrying enough bolts to kill him.

Deeper in the woods, I found a tree. You'd expect that, but this one was different: it shone in the darkness with a quiet, silvery light. The glow would be invisible by day, but in the dark I could actually see my hand against the trunk. Scars and carvings made outlined shadows on the trunk, like tattoos or some other violation of the body. Several nearby places had gate codes carved into the tree, but I found the one I wanted quick enough: downwards drop, one, zero, upwards drop, two. Another waypoint had been built right next to the tree. Maybe I should have expected that.

Getting back to the gate took less than a minute. Waypoints are the only way to travel. As I hit Tristram's code, the stones lit up, and started spitting lightning and arcs of electricity when the code was complete. If these old rocks weren't working right anymore, I was going to be pissed. Finally, after too much time sputtering and sparking to reassure me, a portal appeared, an old-fashioned red one.

Most of the time with portals, you don't notice a time gap. You step and you're there. This portal had a gap, tiny but noticeable. Was it really that big a distance? Or was the gate malfunctioning? I'd better make this quick. I was outside a town, clearly visible because every building was a burning ruin. Dead cows floated in the nearby stream, bloated bodies stiff and swollen. From the town square, I could hear demonic chanting and howling, and what sounded like one man, screaming for his life.

The town was a loss. I couldn't see many dead bodies, at least not lying on the ground. Walking skeletons were another matter: they were everywhere, along with goat demons and little black demonlings. Hopefully, the black guys wouldn't be too much tougher than baby-blues. Hanging over the square's central fountain was an iron cage, with an old man tugging impotently at the bars. Demonlings were trying to get the fountain to boil by piling burning wood around it. The smoke would probably dry the old man into jerky before that happened, but I felt like doing my good deed for the day anyway. A bolt through their leader's neck announced my presence.

They came out to find me in groups. The goats were by far the worst -- I would swear they could see in the dark. More than once, they cornered me, and I had to pull out the katar and take whatever hits they dished out. These skeletons were excellent archers when they saw me, which was too often for my tastes. The demonlings were easy enough, but I've had lots of practice killing them. Skirting around the burning town, staying in the shadows and alive, must have taken over an hour. On the western edge of town, the fattest zombie in the world stood guard. Maybe they expected an attack from that direction.

When I finally worked up enough guts to poke my head into the town square, it was quiet and dark. The fires around the fountain had died, but I could hear the old man whimpering. Nobody was in the buildings. Nothing was in the fields. Everything was dead, except us.

"Hello," I said. "Don't be afraid."

"I can't see you!" the old man cried. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here," I said, stepping in front of a burning building. "They're all dead. Let me get you down from there."

The old man was hunched and filthy, wearing a blue robe that might be older than me. He also had the most amazing set of thick, bushy eyebrows. He was lucky they hadn't caught fire and burned his face off. "Have you come to rescue me?" he asked.

"Well, I did," I smiled, getting my water flask. What was left in the fountain had too much demon in it to give to anyone. "My name is Amy. This is Tristram, isn't it?"

"Not long ago, it was," he sniveled. "Now, Diablo's fury has left nothing but ashes!"

The air turned cold, or maybe it was just me. "Diablo? Of The Three?"

"Yes, Diablo, the Lord of Terror! Long ago, Diablo was slain here, and his spirit imprisoned deep within the earth. When the land began to grow corrupt, I feared he had broken from his prison, and now I am sure of it! Terror walks the land again!"

"Where did he go?" I asked. "What's he going to do?"

"Not long ago, when our king went mad and was slain by his own knights, I suspected a foul influence had laid claim to his soul. As matters worsened, many traveling adventurers came to Tristram, seeking to combat the evil that was rising up from --"

"Yeah, yeah, what about Diablo? Is he here?"

"When a great hero went further than any other had dared go, and came back claiming to have vanquished the great demon, I thought all would be well again. Little did I know that was only the beginning of our suffering!"

"Wait, Diablo's dead?"

"Diablo's spirit cannot be vanquished by steel or spells. Like all greater demonkind, he is eternal and can only be dispelled, never destroyed. Our celebrations were misguided, and now I see that the hero who slew him was only a pawn in his scheme."

"What scheme!?" Would this old fart ever get to the point?

"Shortly after he slew Diablo, our hero began to behave oddly..."

Crap. "Sudden fits of madness?"

"Yes! And terrible dreams, from which he always awoke screaming. I thought the trials he had faced had been too much for him, and that --"

"He'd get better with time, right. What happened to him?"

"Always in his dreams, he shouted about 'the east.' I am not sure what that means, but it is known that Diablo's brother demon, Baal, Lord of Destruction, was buried in a hidden tomb far away in the mystical east. I believe Diablo's spirit is guiding our hero there."

"Okay, the east. That's the desert of... um..."

"The burning sands of Aranoch, full of tombs and mysteries. It seems to me that while in possession of our hero, Diablo must travel as men do. The easiest path to take through the mountains to the east is via the Rogue Monastery, north of here. I must go there and warn them of the dark wanderer who must not be allowed to pass through into Aranoch!"

I heard a thump. I think it was my heart, hitting the sole of my left boot. "It's a little late for that. I have a portal to the Rogue pass, let's get you out of here. It doesn't look like he left anything else for me to find here anyway."