Amanita (Chapter 6)

Template:Amanita nav Having a waypoint so conveniently near my kick-off point made getting back into the action a lot quicker. Using it was my first mistake of the day. There's a saying: "Never go in by the front door." My welcoming committee was a half-dozen Rogues with spears, led by a bull of a woman with a mustache Warriv would envy. Possessed Rogues don't have the discipline of human ones, and waypoints take you places fast, so they weren't ready when I arrived. I decided I could take them, and ran for cover in the trees. That was my second mistake. If I'd been thinking, I'd have gone out the way I came in and gone around the long way, giving them a few hours to forget about me. Cocky decisions get you killed. Turns out a pack of Bigfeet were in the woods, probably hunting for breakfast.

With armor on and a healer on the other end of that waypoint, I could probably take a few hits, get home, and start the day over. I could hear every teacher I ever had screaming in my head to get out of there. But no, I had to be brave. Maybe I was worried; Diablo had a long head start. I'd have to clear a path through his minions fast if I was going to get to Aranoch in time to help the others. No one should try to take on a demon prince by herself, and unless I got there, someone might have to.

My first shot went into Ms. Mustache's shoulder as I ran around her flank. Then I had another one of my bright ideas. The lancers were going to charge: that's what spear carriers do. If I got the Bigfeet between me and the spears, they couldn't charge, and would have to maneuver those big sticks in among the trees to get to me. So, I ran deeper into the woods, around the howling Bigfeet, completely forgetting about the demon camp on the other side -- mistake number 3. A casual observer would probably swear I was trying to get myself killed, but I'd have to live through this if I knew what was good for me. They don't let you into Heaven if you die that stupid.

I ran back into the trees, towards the waypoint. As a double dozen baby-blue demons chased after me, Bigfeet started tripping over them. The lancers were struggling through the trees and didn't see me. By the time I found the waypoint again, they were so confused I actually crept back and started picking them off one by one, just the way I like it. A few lancers made it out of the woods, so I had to finish them by hand, but that was nothing. If the Rogues were still spying on me, I could tell them I meant to do it this way: running into an enemy camp was nothing less than step one of my brilliant master plan.

The demon camp was packed as full as it was last night. Were these their reserves, or resummons? If Diablo was stomping across Aranoch, these had to be reserves, which meant fewer demons in the monastery. Still, he must have left hundreds of the little bastards up here. There was even an old mansion -- nine rooms, at least -- they'd ripped to the ground for no reason I could see, except there were too many of them and they were bored. Even the rain couldn't clear their smell from the air.

Further up the pass, the ground turned marshy. Black puddles of water reflected the gray sky perfectly, even as the rain broke them into silver rings. Three Rogue archers, different from those I'd seen before, were guarding a fence. These were bone thin, with papery skin flushed from below with red. Their hair was intact, long and loose. Their eyes were calm, as clear as the marsh water wasn't, but still hiding everything. Their archery was perfect, and they stuck together like a unit. Killing them took effort; when they died, they crumbled and fell apart, with no escaping spirits. I've only heard of undead creatures dying like that.

Other creatures on the marsh acted like their normal abnormal selves. I didn't see any more Rogues, but there were Bigfeet, and those freakish birds that nest in rotting garbage. Rain made their nests smell even worse, like dried meat that's gotten wet and is blooming with mold. A few hours' steady drizzle had started to clear the air, though, and beat down the tough, saw-edged grass that thrived in this boggy soil. I laughed to think, this must be why the Rogues favor thigh-high boots -- that's how high this grass grows.

The saw grass grew mostly in limited areas, so I could avoid it. Then I found a strange set of stones. They were in circles, but not like the gate stones; the rocks were small enough to trip over, placed irregularly to make a square of four circles joined at the edges. Saw grass grew along their outlines, hiding some even smaller stones from sight. I stood on top of the biggest stone. Everywhere, thin strips of dark grass separated lighter, mossy areas into shapes -- rectangles, circles, even regularly-spaced spots of dark green like columns along an avenue, marching lock-step into a shallow pool. There used to be something here, a long time ago. It didn't matter now, all of it was long gone... unless those strange Rogues had something to do with it.

Charsi was hammering something as I approached, but stopped when she saw me. "Hi, Charsi," I said, using my friendliest smile. "How's things in camp?"

"F-fine," she murmured.

This was not the chatty Charsi I'd first met. "Have you talked to Cain yet? He seems like a nice old guy, reminds me of my grandpa."

"Yeah. He's all right."

I nodded slowly. "You nervous about something?"

She shook her head and smiled like a sick man trying to get out of bed, worry prickling and spiking the air around her. "Nuh-uh."

I let her watch me chew on that a second. Leaning in close, I looked her straight in her wide blue eyes, and said, "Boo!" Normally a girl like Charsi wouldn't move very fast; she must have been inspired. With a choked-mouse squeak, she catapulted back over her table as gracefully as a three-legged dog, taking it and half her stock with her into the mud.

While Charsi lay under the overturned table, embarrassment shining through the wood, I wondered if I really should have done that. Ah, what the hell: she didn't get hurt, and everybody needs a laugh now and then. After what I hoped wasn't too long a gloat, I ran around near where her head ought to be, pleading, "Are you all right? I didn't think you'd jump like that!" with enough sweet balm in my voice to soothe any jangled nerves.

"Um..." Charsi's face, covered in mud, peered up at me. Swords and arrows jangled to the ground when I tried to lift the table. I could move it a little, with effort, before she shoved the whole deal off her back, and as she rose, delicately put the heavy table back on its feet with one hand. She probably could have lifted the thing with one hand if she wasn't afraid of getting it dirty. "I guess I'm a little jumpy."

"Oof! I don't know why, you could break me in two."

"I wouldn't," she murmured, looking at herself and at the labor scattered in the mud.

I knelt to help pick up arrows, putting on a show of not caring about getting muddy. The rain would wash it off. "I wouldn't do anything to you either. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing... I guess..."

I smirked. "Kid... I've looked at too many faces not to know. Even if I didn't make you jump in the mud by saying boo. You're scared of me, aren't you?"

"Well, um... I..."

"Are you trying not to say, 'you're a hired killer!'?"

Charsi froze, biting her lower lip hard enough for it to turn white. "Um..."

"I'm not going to assassinate you. The Viz-Jaq'taar are the Mage-slayers; we specialize in evil wizards, or evil in general. We don't just go around whacking people. That's wrong, and it's not our business. Charsi, you're in a camp with dozens of women trained to kill. I'm no different. I just have a different job."

"Well... Kashya's never killed anyone. I mean, anyone human."

"Neither have I. Well, maybe your corrupted sisters still count."

"No, it's not that. Soldiers are different. They defend us in war."

"And how do they defend us?"

"Well, someone declares war, the soldiers line up and meet someplace, and they fight."

"Oh, yeah: chivalry. As opposed to, say, entering town under a pretense, sneaking into someone's bedroom late at night, and stabbing them with a poisoned dagger."

"Yeah! That is, like, totally different! War is clean and out in the open and everyone knows what's going on. There's no hiding and lying."

There is in real war, I thought. But something else caught my ear. "Charsi, do you think I've been lying to you?"

She looked at the ground. "Well, you did, when you first came."

Score one for blondie. "Uh, yeah, all right, I did."

"And, sometimes, when you're talking with different people, you talk with different voices and different smiles, depending on what you want."

Oh, man... if I can't even fool Charsi, I need to go back to Assassin school. "Okay... yeah, I've done that, sometimes."

"You do it a lot."

"Okay, I do it a lot. It's part of my business."

Charsi nodded, sadly. "I thought we weren't supposed to be your business."

"All right! I lie to people about my job, what do you expect? You never know where evil is; you have to suspect everyone when you first meet them. I spend my time nosing around in people's lives. I hunt things down and get information without giving any back, by... some pretty unusual methods. A lot of what I do isn't very nice, and I don't want to have to try to explain it."

She nodded again, the gesture as convincing as one of Gheed's warranties. "That doesn't mean you have to keep lying. You could just ask us when you want something."

I thought about that. "Okay. Why do you like Gheed so much?"

She laughed, "Oh, he's so funny! He has all these amazing stories of places he's been, and things he's seen, and everything! He's been to Lut Gholein, and the Barbarian lands, and the eastern jungles, even dangerous places like a city of Necromancers! And he's dealt with all kinds of people, like Pygmies and Cat people and Snake people and..."

So she bought Gheed's act, but not mine. Go figure. Maybe tales of adventure are her weakness. I cut her off and asked, "What do you know about the marshes midway up the pass?"

"Um... I don't know. They're full of mosquitoes?"

"I saw some unusual formations there, like building foundations and roads."

"Oh." Charsi looked genuinely confused. Gheed's tales of adventure would be impressive to someone who'd never even been that far from home. "I've heard there's an old graveyard in a cave near there, but we're not supposed to go there. It's not safe."

"Interesting. Oh, and Charsi? I'm just Amy, okay?"

Her smile was much better this time -- still curdled at the edges, but better. "Okay."

I gave her a hug. She hardly flinched at all. It felt pretty good. "See you soon."

After an hour's search, I found the cave, a hole in the wall behind the most intact building in the marsh. Not much was left besides the foundations, which were wide and went deep into the ground. Building something that big in the wet ground of a marsh would have been quite an undertaking. A hole led down to the basement, but I wanted to see the graveyard first.

The first thing I found inside the cave was three Rogues, recently deceased. They were tied to stakes, but not burned -- they'd been drained of blood, and left as they were. I had a bad feeling about this. After dragging them out into the sunlight, hopefully spoiling any plans made for them, I continued through the cave. After a while, it was clear there was no graveyard here. I never saw a single walking dead. There were Misshapen and a few Rogue archers, even the ever-present camps of baby-blues, but no ancient bones. The Rogues were all of the crumbly type; I found most of them clustered around a newly dead Rogue or two. None of them had any blood left.

Back in camp, Akara granted me a reluctant audience. "There is nothing I can tell you of that ancient tower. It has been in ruins for centuries."

"It was a tower?" I asked.

"Yes." A curl of exasperation wisped off of her before she tamped it down. "According to our order's records, it was, but is no longer. Have I mentioned how grateful I am, for all you have done for us?" Her thoughts were smooth and cool, like a gently pushing stream.

"Well, there was the ring," I said, not mentioning that I'd sold it to Gheed. "But it's nice to hear it from you again."

"Your efforts on our behalf are inspirational. Others came before you, but always insisted on payment, which we could ill afford."

"Mercenaries." I rolled my eyes, content to let my thoughts be guided where she wished they'd go. "The world can go straight to Hell and they don't give a damn unless they get their cut of the action to make it worth their while."

"Precisely. Our order is dedicated not only to providing a safe place for the women of the world, but to aiding and protecting our neighbors of both sexes. While others seek personal gain, that has never been our way. Have you come within sight of our monastery?"

"Not yet. Have you always been there?"

"This pass has been our home since the founding of the order."

"Yes, but have you always been in the monastery? I've been in a marsh about halfway up, the pass looks nice and narrow there. If you were going to wall off the pass, that's where I'd do it."

Akara was silent. When she replied, her voice was impassive. "Others inhabited this pass before the Rogues came, but even in our early days the tower was long abandoned. I fear you will find little to interest you there."

"Maybe, but I'd better check it out anyway."

"I must implore you, leave the tower be. I sense nothing but death in that old trap. Your goal is so close now, the tower is nothing but a potentially fatal distraction."

The old woman was becoming nervous, though she hid it well. The insensitive would never notice. I decided to risk a question. "Have you had vampire problems up here?"

Akara was confused. "No..." Suddenly, she was afraid. "No, not for a very long time."

"But yes, a long time ago?"

"There was... you must understand, not all who came to shelter with the Order came with the best of intentions. The Sightless Eye does not see all, and trust can be obtained by deception."

"I know. What happened in the tower?"

"A countess came to the pass many years ago, fleeing a politically arranged marriage to an abusive man, or so she said. She chose to shelter in the tower, even then already in ruin, far from the monastery and away from watchful eyes. It was not until much later that we learned the real reason she fled her country: the countess was a murderess."

"And this disturbed you... why?"

"Her victims, and there were many, were young girls. The countess believed bathing in the blood of youth would prevent her from growing old. When her deeds were discovered, our order was accused of sheltering a vampire."

How scandalous. "What did you do?"

"The order had her executed, of course. She was buried in the nearby graveyard, and her very existence forgotten. Until this day."

I hoped my facial expression hadn't changed. "I'll have to get her, then. Diablo probably raised her and made her a real blood-sucker. Wish me luck."

I wasn't mad at Akara for lying. I'd done plenty of it myself. What I wanted to know was why. The tower basement stank, a harsh, salty smell. On one wall, a gap looked like a concealed door that had been broken in. Inside, human bones were everywhere. The floor crunched underfoot with fingers and toes. Another giant flaming pentagram burned eternally in a main hall on the second level, but I didn't need to see that to know Mr. Not-Subtle had been here. Diablo had filled the basement with blood-red goat demons, and ghosts, the first incorporeal undead I'd seen. With no vitals to target or joints to break, the crossbow wasn't much good for them. I had to switch to the katar and whisk them away.

The tower cellars went deep. I found a lot of interesting things there. There were several armories, full of rotten bows and light armor. A few side rooms turned out to be chapels, decorated with angelic female figures and blank eyes. Some recently dead Rogues had been taken down, tied to posts and drained. And there were parties of archers, on their feet even if I wasn't sure they were alive. Comparing the two Rogues side by side was interesting; the pale archers' leathers were different, looking older in style. Always, the floor was thick with bones... hundreds of dead, maybe thousands.

The lowest level of basement was obviously the catacombs. The wall niches were all empty, unused. In the rest of the tower, I'd counted over 20 Rogue archers, and a dozen more guarded the catacombs. The last, and strongest, was in the catacomb's chapel. I could only assume this was the "Countess." She was dressed like a Rogue, with more muscle in her arms than a noble would consider fitting in a woman of her station. Two standards hung in the chapel; I took one.

Back in the Rogue camp, Kashya found me with the standard. "What are you doing?"

"Comparing this old, half-rotted banner with your new one there. They match pretty closely, don't you think?"

Kashya looked the standard over. "Our order used to fly that standard. It was a long time ago, before the monastery was built."

"I see. Do you know if your order ever built a tower, further down the pass? At a nice defensible point with convenient nearby water sources to use during a siege, and caves to hide supplies in?"

Kashya remained amazingly calm. "Yes, we did. The order's main fortress was there, until we were forced away to a new location."

"By some... scandal?"

"Something much worse, which I do not wish to discuss."

"Too bad. Your 'Countess' was not some mysterious noble who managed to fool your order. She had too many loyal Rogues under her for that."

"So? Her deceptions persisted, even in death. The evil befouling our monastery -- in case you've forgotten about that -- found her new servants to use."

"I don't think so. They were too much like her, and too different from your living sisters. I think a Rogue leader and her underlings were walled up in that cellar together."

"With all I know you saw, would that have been wrong?"

I thought about that. "No."

Kashya frowned. "Does it matter, what really happened back then?"

I thought about that too. "No. There's too much trouble now."

"Then why are you bringing those old ghosts back up?"

"I pry into things. It's what I do."

"Outlander, stop doing it. Evil isn't hiding anymore. You don't need to hunt for it, it's right there in front of you. Leave our coffin lids on."

The fire beside me crackled and hissed, wet wood popping and steaming. Almost everyone was asleep. I should be asleep. "Diablo pried them open first anyway." I tossed the banner on the fire and went to bed.