Foxmoor Fiction
patreon
SSD 4.59 - The Lai of Tarrae
🕑 Added 2024-04-09 16:51:15 +0000 UTCI'm sorry, did I say Friday? Yeah, Patreon is getting this one today. I'm halfway through the next chapter as well. If I get it done in time you will get it tomorrow. Mind the cliff.
Also, for anyone interested, a lai (lay) is an octadic couplet form of poetry. I think I did a reasonably good imitation in the quote.
Tried to hang him, it didn’t take,
Next came the oven, but he wouldn’t bake.
“Surely he’ll drown,” came the reply,
One hour or twenty, proved the lie.
No they could not kill that Jita Mae,
They tried and tried, all through the day.
So when Shurum rose up once more,
Jita Mae yawned, death but a bore.
“This time we have it! Yes we know!
Bury him in stones, nice and slow.”
But when they all were mounded high,
Jita Mae sighed, he would not die.
No they could not kill that Jita Mae,
They tried and tried, all through the day.
So when Shurum rose up once again,
Jita Mae scowled, but felt no pain.
-From the children’s rhyme: “The Lai of Jita Mae”
==Zidaun==
Announcements went out, and I corresponded with other Ancients. Mostly I sent things to the Ancient of my old home. He had all the proper tools to send the messages across the world, keeping the rest informed.
Some had not been pleased, convinced I was being far too lenient, but ultimately the decision was being left to me. I was closest to the situation, therefore it was mine to handle.
It wasn’t just the Ancients, letters went out to Tsary, informing them of the situation and what was required to resolve it, as well as the planned execution. Any execution of co-conspirators was to be done after the one here.
We had informed the adventurers, too, of course, which had been its own headache.
The attitudes of the adventurers was as diverse and contentious as the adventurers tended to be themselves.
Ultimately, however, the opinions had tended to settle into one of a few camps:
Firstly, indifference. Adventurers were used to death, or at least the experienced ones were. The adventurers in this camp were largely ambivalent to Tarrae’s fate, or felt that he had brought on his death with his own stupidity. The only difference here was the level of attention being paid to the death. They were just happy that the consequences were contained.
Second, outrage for Tarrae. This was mainly an attitude shared by the newest of adventurer’s, and wasn’t limited to either country. The adventurers who hadn’t yet been jaded by death were shocked an appalled by this upcoming specter of seeing one, and loudly decried that sharing a secret should not be enough to die. A few members of this camp were Tsary patriots, outraged that they had to acquiesce to the demands of the Adar. Some of those changed their mind when we announced the cooperation and upcoming executions planned in Tsary after, recognizing the seriousness of the issue. Others just doubled down.
Third, outrage at Tarrae. This was mainly held by more experienced adventurers, mainly from Tarrae. the ones who realized what a dungeon break would have done, what it would have meant. At the minimum they would have needed to uproot their entire lives, fleeing with their families to another country, if those other countries would have taken them. The most powerful, at least, would have been able to negotiate their service in another country, but that would have left the country even less defended when dungeon breaks finally came. The grim horror and fear, of their own execution only just avoided, was enough for them to revile Tarrae. Unfortunately, some of the blame splashed onto his team, though the fact that they had only been partnered for weeks had helped to cut down the fervor. Being the more experiences adventurers, they knew that a few weeks was only the barest start.
Fourth, lust for blood. Those that fell into this camp were an unfortunate consequence of the nature of adventuring. It attracted those who had a lust for blood, a desire to kill. It was probably the best outlet for that desire, but at times it could be disconcerting. And those who looked forward to seeing an execution were even worse. Not all of those who craved a battle were like that, fortunately, leaving the group a small but raucous minority.
And all the groups were present, now, as I led Tarrae through a gap in the crowd, leading him up toward the site of the execution.
==Tarrae==
I had plenty of time to reflect, the past few days, on the magnitude of my error.
For a small space of time, I had cursed Gurek, allowing myself the comfort of blaming him. Heaping upon him the mountain of all my folly and imagining myself the victim. The fact that he wasn’t joining me, it had felt a great injustice.
And, perhaps it was, but I was not able to sustain my self-righteousness for long.
Not when I when I knew what it could have cost.
It was far too easy to imagine monsters tearing into Soamana. At first my mind had pictured monsters from the nearest dungeon, a dungeon the city was practically built on, but I knew better.
It wouldn’t be those monsters that tore into the city, that rampaged down streets and through shops, that tunneled through stone and into the homes hidden within. It wouldn’t have been those monsters that killed his family, or friends, or everyone that they knew. That brought down the ancient sacred churches and gardens dedicated to Otga.
It would be the monsters they didn’t know about. The dungeon that was new and untouched for too long. The dungeon near the capital was too well monitored and used.
If the Adar had withdrawn…
It would have been a slow death for them all.
It wouldn’t have felt like that, at first, but I wasn’t sure if that made it more or less horrific.
I could imagine it all too clearly.
Adventurers would be carefully deployed to make sure that every known dungeon was repeatedly kept clear. Without the Adar, they would be less stable, and there would be no warning of an immanent break.
Decisions would need to be made, some of the dungeons might be deliberately destroyed. Higher level adventurers would need to be sent to guard lower level dungeons, just in case they broke. That would limit their ability to improve and grow, making it harder to deal with any higher level dungeons breaking.
It was a cascading problem.
Eventually, the resources deployed would not be enough. A dungeon would go unnoticed and break, or an existing one would go unstable. And even if they managed to handle that, it would mean the destruction of a dungeon.
The loss of a dungeon meant the loss of adventurer’s ability to grow, and the loss of whatever that dungeon gave to the economy. No matter the level of a dungeon, there was someone who needed it. Someone who wouldn’t be able to get as strong, who wouldn’t be able to create wealth or trade.
Stable dungeons let society exist.
If there were no dungeons at all, then society might be able to manage. It would require more extensive trading with other countries, and no doubt all sorts of compromises, but…
No, society could not be sustained when there were unstable dungeons.
The level of threat an unstable dungeon presented was vastly beyond what its level would normally indicate.
A mistake would be made, and then everything would be lost in slow grinding steps.
If that had happened…
My nieces and nephews might have survived to become adults, but is wasn’t likely their own children would have managed the same.
I had grown paler, shaken more, each time Zidaun had told me another name I recognized. My father, my aunt, various cousins, family friends, they would all die for my mistake. There were plenty of names I didn’t recognize, too, no doubt additional friends and connections.
Regardless of whatever else happened, the merchant business my family had built was going to be decimated, at the least.
Good thing it will need to take care of less people then.
I waved away the self-loathing, the accusation of my own thoughts.
I had railed again Zidaun, too, at times, but those moments lasted even less time than my self delusion regarding Gurek.
Zidaun was being as kind as he possibly could.
I tried my best to be grateful for how many people weren’t on the list of the condemned.
Zidaun had shown me the letters he sent, the exact language he used. He had stated outright that those who were to be killed were those who had committed “visible and public action again the Adar.” It was a wonderful piece of sophistry, the hidden subtext there. It was a subtext reinforced by the lack of calls for investigation, and careful inclusion of an exception for children below the age of majority.
I didn’t think any of those named was pregnant, but there had even been a specific exemption added for them, as well, that they should be executed only after the child was born.
All together, it created a very clear message on the surface, condemning the actions, while discretely allowing Tsary to avoid poking deeper, to limit the consequences to those who had already exposed themselves.
No, I couldn’t blame either of them. That was reserved for myself.
Like any veteran adventurer, I had lost friends. And I had allowed myself to get caught up in Gurek’s passion, his fervor. My own memories of loss had clouded my judgment.
Right up to the moment when Zidaun had spelled it out.
Of course others knew.
It was obvious, in hindsight. It probably would have been obvious in foresight, too, if I had given it a little thought. My family… they had trusted me. I was the one who knew more about dungeons, about adventuring, about the nature of the Adar.
Everyone knew about the secrecy of the Adar, on a general level, but I had seen it. I had talked with adventurers who had partnered with them, and I had seen how serious Anaath was.
And it was obvious that secrets didn’t last unless they were protected. A higher level and more experienced adventurer would have known better. Would have seen the implications.
I had seen this dungeon, and then done exactly what Zidaun said was the danger. I had seen that a dungeon could be kinder, that it could raise people up more. Sure, people had died, but that inevitable. Far less had died than normal. With the tokens, that number would drop even more.
And I had assumed that they could all be better, that they were all like people.
It was a stupid assumption even if dungeons were like people. Some people would be evil and selfish, just as some would be saintly, but most would just be people. Most wouldn’t have cared enough to change. And now I knew most dungeons were not even that. Most might as well be animals.
No doubt that confirmation was exciting all sorts of academics, allowing them to resolve various hypothetical issues.
I didn’t really care.
The end was drawing near.
I had already given my goodbyes to the others. Well, not Anaath, he hadn’t come. Soara and Norana said he was still furious. I didn’t have the energy to blame him, even if I had disagreed. I had sent him my apologies with the others.
I hadn’t known them that long, but the other two did their best to comfort me.
I had hoped for the possibility of something more with Norana, but now I could only be grateful that we hadn’t become more involved. I had gotten enough people killed already.
I gave Norana my tokens.
Even if they might have saved me, I had no desire to be executed repeatedly. And I had no desire to test Zidaun’s patience.
I tried to give Zidaun the artifact, the thing that had started this in the first place, but I couldn’t. Apparently the circumstances were too close to coercion. Close enough to trigger the artifact’s defenses, anyway, preventing its loss.
Zidaun wasn’t too worried. Either the artifact would unbind when I died, which meant he could collect it, or it would go to the dungeon to be used as it chose.
Hopefully it picks a more responsible bearer, next time.
I was prepared as I could be, following after Zidaun.
I cast my eyes to the ground, trying to drown out the shouts of the crowd.
I could only feel sad for those that were outraged for me. And I already agreed with those that excoriated me for the risk I had taken.
I followed Zidaun up, and he quieted the crowd.
I raised my eyes, looking out over the assembled audience.
Behind me, in front of the sacrifice room, a massive stone block was held suspended. It would be dropped all at once, settling into a waiting depression. When it did, it would kill me instantly. It was brutal, but I doubted I would feel pain for more than an instant.
I suppose I should be happy I am not too hard to kill.
There was an old legend, about how a kingdom had killed a powerful adventurer turned traitor. They had needed to be repeatedly executed using different methods as it turned out they were too tough or immune to various. It had ended up as songs and rhymes. I had quite liked them as a child…
Focus.
I took a breath. In. Out.
I focused on the crowd, the gathered group of adventurers backed by a barrier of green and golden light where the iridescent murkwood trees glimmered with reflected fire. Behind them rose the walls of the Adar’s community.
“I know,” I started, before my voice cracked and I started over, speaking louder.
“I know that some of you think this execution is unwarranted. And I know that some of you are furious at the danger I placed you in.”
I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. After Zidaun had raised the possibility of talking to the crowd… it had been repeatedly churning through my head.
“Those who are furious at me, have every right to be!”
There were murmurs in the crowd.
“I revealed a secret without understanding what it truly was. I committed the sin that repeatedly kills adventurers, over and over again. I failed to think through the potential consequences of my actions.
“In a fight, all of us understand how that can happen, how you need to let your instincts take over, rely on your training.”
Some of the adventurers were nodding now, while others were looking conflicted.
“However, when you are done fighting, and you are dealing with traps, with ambushes, with the slow careful walk into the unknown… You have to think. If you don’t, you are dead.
“I should have known better. I learned something amazing, and that was as far as I allowed myself to think. I thought of those I have lost, and I thought that maybe I could prevent more death. No, I didn’t think, I simply felt.
“I didn’t wonder why this might be a secret. I didn’t wonder what the consequences might be when,” I raised my voice, “not if, it was always going to be when! What I offended the Adar by spilling their secret.”
I paused for a moment, as silence settled back over the crowd like a shroud.
“For those of you who are new to delving, let me give a last warning. Most dungeon’s are not like this one. I may have revealed that some dungeons are sapient, but most are not. Dungeons are dangerous, don’t let your guard down.”
I gave the barest smile, really more of a rictus.
“Don’t forget to think. May Otga welcome me home, and may her fires purify my soul.”
I didn’t let myself look at the crowd any longer, turning around. I didn’t need any prompting, I already knew what to do.
I walked up beneath the block, letting it hang suspended over my head, merely a few feet away.
From here, I could see more of the details, the guiding posts of stone that would prevent the stone from toppling or moving out of control. There were channels carved into the stone below, as well as a lip to catch any splashing blood. Drains in the sides would carefully prevent any viscera from reaching the crowd, no doubt moving it to some vessels that could be discretely removed later.
There were murmurs from the crowd, but I could barely hear them. I could barely acknowledge Zidaun when he asked if I was ready.
I was.
It was time to meet the gods.
There was a snap, and the stone rushed downwards.
Comments
Raven
"Any execution of co-conspirators was to be done after the one here." - This includes Gurek, the main conspirator. "mainly from Tarrae. the ones" - Tsary. The
bbk
HAAAAAAAAAA!
Foxmoor Fiction
In more seriousness, though, yes I am deliberately invoking drama. That is part of what is supposed to happen at the book's climax, after all.
Foxmoor Fiction
Oh course I know exactly what I am doing. (Madly scribbles notes in the background.)
Tsula
Woot GoGoGoGoGo! Thanks for the chapter! Evil cliff =-)
daavko
"Mind the cliff", you say. You knew exactly what you were doing. The only thing you're missing is an arrow sign that says "To be continued" and the beginning of Roundabout playing in the background. Thank you for the chapter, you magnificent tease of an author! Either way this goes will be very interesting.
