Orphan At The Edge Of The World 97 Crystal Cage 35

When the conversation drifted towards discussions about Orison and what they thought he might want from them, the speculation went from outlandish to overly cold and logical. Though they couldn't reach an agreement on what the truth was, Orison's casual generosity, concern and unexpected respectfulness had managed to earn him a grudging amount of trust mixed with a little benefit of doubt.

Coming full circles but not really having much else to talk about that would distract them from the dangerous situation they found themselves in, not really knowing each other that well, they discussed Orison through the 'lens' of shop talk. Though their earthy conversation was mostly complimentary, it would be far too embarra.s.sing and disturbing for Orison's conscious mind to easily process. Blurring the edges, Beta focused on the goodwill and beginnings of friendly affection that the conversation implied before letting the information seep towards the controlling consciousness.

Snapping out of trance, the young mage took in what he'd missed while he was napping and somewhat wished he hadn't. The last thing he'd do in such a sensitive situation is say or do anything to risk upsetting or offending people who'd experienced enough as it was. He would find ways to set the record straight on some of their wayward thoughts before their time together was said and done. It might be childish but being misunderstood or letting something that was patently false stand without challenge just wasn't his style.

Orison took a steady, calming breath and said, "You might not be hungry but we're going to eat a little, drink some water and do whatever business we can before we walk through those doors over there. Who knows how long it will be before we have another safe moment to get something down or out."

In mostly silence, the group ate, drank and did what needed to be done.

Once Orison showed signs of giving marching orders, Annie and Stag looked to each other before Annie said, "Well, there is one more thing we could try to get out before we go. It... might be the last chance any of us have to... celebrate life."

Seeing that the two had already started preparing to bring the conversation they had while he was resting to a crystal clarity his sub-mind couldn't blur, Orison said, "Nope. Time's up. If you want to 'celebrate life', it's going to be after we survive this place. And before either of you bring up some cringy guilt trip, I don't despise or look down on you. It's just that I think what you two are proposing sounds like something a person does when they think they'll lose. Sorry, but while you're with me, we are going to be winners. Fake it til you make it if you have to. I am certain both of you know how to fake it, right?"

Seeing that he got a weak smile out of Stag and a nervous giggle out of Annie, the young mage said, "Good. Then there's no excuse... Annie, you're going to need the Oberon model. Anything with a body gets too close, get it to draw the hate and weaken with heal trickles, then go for stabs to their cores. That's head for zombies and skeleton mages, behind the breastbone for all the other skeleton types.

"Stag, you're physical back-up. Your glamour and intent are a desperation move since they'll leave you tired. Leave spirit types to me unless there's too many. Both of you need to stay close so I can provide cover against them. If we get separated and it looks like trying to group back up isn't worth it, then follow your best judgment. Whatever you do, don't lose your cool and don't give up."

With creatures summoned and everything that needed to be said out of the way, Orison headed to the door.

"Wait, wait!" Stag said.

Reigning in his impatience to begin, Orison lamely joked, "What is it? Did you leave your sunscreen at home?"

Stag said, "What? Never mind that. You said that glamour is my desperation move. I won't disagree that I should use it sparingly but do you feel the same way too? You do realize that undead are very weak-willed."

Orison snorted. "What am I going to do, friend them to death? Your glamour and mine are pretty similar and I doubt its affects are going to last past us actively using them to instill false emotion."

Stag looked at Orison in confusion. "How are our glamours alike? Mine makes people care about me."

The young mage said, "And mine makes them think about me in a positive light."

More confused, Stag said, "No it doesn't. It's an inspiration type. When you were letting me feel it, I wanted to focus and try harder. It was really subtle but I could tell."

They both were confused.

To clear it up, Orison had Stag feel his glamour again. "Now I want to understand you better. What kind of glamour do you actually have?"

Annie said, "Think about me and then let Stag feel your glamour."

Seeing no reason not to, Orison gave it a try.

Stag said, "Now I want to like you. You're kind of pure hearted aren't you? Ha, ha, ha! Now I feel a little annoyed at myself... It's kind of scary. If you took me by surprise, it would slip right under my notice. I think your glamour is actually more effective and dangerous, the weaker it is."

Annie said, "It's suggestion and a lot of people can do it. Not like you can, Orison, but similar in a blunt way. One thing is true... That's useless against undead unless he's actively holding it, Stag."

Right as Orison was about to call an end to the conversation, Annie added, "Unless you were focusing it on just one. I've heard a mid range necromancer talk about making his first grudge. He poured all his negative emotions into some spirit and then controlled it with suggestions. I'm sure it was a lot more complicated than that and it would be harder since it wasn't made by you but you should be able to."

Orison said, "It might be but I would have to learn how to separate the control of my glamour from my personal feelings or weird things would happen. That would take time we might not have. It was helpful for the future, though. Thank you. Thank you both, actually. Who knows how long it would have taken me to figure that out on my own. I don't even like using it."

Stag shrugged. "Power is power. What's not to like?"

Orison said, "A power that would turn you into a person you would hate, is a power not to like as far as I'm concerned. It's sick to twist and control people for selfish reasons. It's sick to do it for any reason when you violate other's free will entirely. I might do it for self defense or to protect what I care about but I'm not going to pretend that it would be 'good' because that would be delusional.

"To make it a little more clear, I might cook a dead person and feed that to a loved one to keep them from starving to death. So they wouldn't have to be burdened with that, I would lie about it, say I found some pork or something. I might be able to justify that and even praise myself but it would be bullsh*t.

"That's just me, though. If I see someone doing things I hate, I hate them. If I see someone doing something I like, I like them. I prefer my moral compa.s.s to be as simple and clear as possible. That it points smack dab in the middle of gray somewhere is something I can live with but I try to be good when I can because I think it matters."

As Orison headed out the door, intent on not being stopped again, Stag asked, "Do you think you could be friends with a wh*re?"

Smas.h.i.+ng the first unnaturally moving body he encountered with Herne's halberd, Orison looked for his next target as he made his way out. "Not even a question in my mind. Why shouldn't I be able to?"

A minute or so later, as she ordered her Oberon to a.s.sist Orison's in hara.s.sing one skeleton while he cleaved into another, Annie asked, "Could you fall in love with one?"

Focusing his devouring intent, Orison sent it piercing through a weak shade as he replied, "I don't think love is something that respects permission but I wouldn't want to. That said, it's just a job. You can quit a job any time you want."

Orison could hear the sneer in Stag's voice as the Nunos man said, "Do something long enough and it becomes you. We didn't choose to be this way. They made us, for years in my case. How were we supposed to just quit? Kill ourselves?"

Thrusting the business end of the halberd into something wiggling under a rotting body that screeched as it was pierced, Orison said, "Small change of plans. Stag, I need you to keep an eye on the floor. There's a grub-like creature and it's got teeth... I call bullsh*t on the first part. It's hard to control how you feel but what you think is up to you. As for the second part, if it wasn't your choice, you never were a wh*re. You were a hostage and a r*pe victim. Whether it was once or a thousand times doesn't change the fact that as long as it was against your will, you were a victim not an employee.

"If a client was aware that what they did was against your will, they weren't a customer. They were a r*pist. For those that didn't know, they were victims as well. They committed r*pe without knowing it, dirtying themselves in the sins of your captors."

Things got too hectic for talk after that. It became obvious that talking would draw more shades and even though Orison had no problems with them for now, too many would be a problem for Stag and Annie. Another thing that became obvious over time was that, just like Listless Corridors, slowing down was bad and stopping was dumb.

Orison felt lost without Gan. Though it was a big part of it, it wasn't just the greater range the scout had with his map. He was trapped in a huge, dank pit carpeted with corpses in varying degrees of poorly preserved decay with strangers. The only thing that broke the monotony was the occasional pillar and he had no idea which one was the way up, if any of them were.

While he contemplated Northlander practicality in the face of impending doom, Orison had a small moment of clarity. Remembering the time that the honor band was teasing and trying to halfheartedly earn a reward from him, Gan had said something about keeping an eye for the branches and an eye for the shadows. Hvar had quipped that you wouldn't be looking at anything if you tripped over a tree root and knocked your a** out. With everyone sharing their opinion on where an eye should be pointed, Orison had jokingly asked just how many eyes a person needed to cover everything.

In a burst of vivid memory, it was almost like he could hear Hvar's reply. "An idiot could have a hundred eyes and still trip over a tree root. A smart man could spend his whole life looking for something and not find it without a little luck. Fact is, you don't need a single eye yourself if you can get the one who knows where to look, do it for you. Only grunts like us have to do everything for ourselves."

Orison stopped meandering aimlessly and started looking for spots with only one or two enemies and aimed for them. As soon as he got close he'd send out a weak wave of glamour. The first couple of times was a bust but eventually he ran across a shade who turned away from him when it was. .h.i.t, looking at a particular direction.

Seeing that the young mage was burning spirit on controlling a shade, Annie whispered, "I thought you said... What changed your mind."

Orison replied, "The moment I realized what I wanted the most was the one thing it could do."

Morale raised enormously the moment they found themselves heading a defined direction. What was even better, there didn't seem to be that many enemies in their path. With attention somewhat freed up, Orison even helped Annie to understand some of the more detailed features of the sprite models by having his t.i.tania and Oberon play out a love triangle drama involving her Oberon between fights.

Due to her particular racial quirk, Annie's lord of air and darkness looked more 'authentic' to Orison's mind even if it wasn't quite as fully fleshed out. There was a quality to its slightly abstract nature that seemed far more true to the spirit of the character it embodied. With the environment that they were in, and drawing inspiration from her expression of the original creator's vision, Orison felt that his summoning concepts took a small but measurable step forward.

Orison felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough in understanding summoning in a way that his predominately logic driven sub-mind couldn't help with. Hidden within the art and vice of the dead woman's models was a kernel of possibility that Annie's interpretation had shed light on. Before he could explore the thought further, a familiar sight had all of their hearts dropping to their stomachs, ending his epiphany.

In front of them, where the shade had stopped, was a set of doors all three of them knew led to a transporter that didn't work. In frustration, Orison was about to dispatch the shade when it moved to the side of the doors after finding itself unable to enter. After floating around the door arch from the base of the floor, it continued up the wall towards the unlit and invisible roof vault.

For lack of better option, Orison used the alternate protrusions along the door arch as steps and walked up to the top. Feeling around, he discovered a ladder-like set of similar protrusions on the wall made unnoticeable by a trick of light, texture and shape that would only be made worse the brighter light below it became.

As they made their way up, Stag said in hushed tones, "We spent three hours wading through death and decay when the way out was where we started? The maker of this place must be a woman. Only they could be so cruel."

Seeing the downward curve of Annie's mouth, Orison said, "You could also say wise if the idea was to keep infiltrators trapped and unable to make progress... I can't say who the owner of this construct was but I'm fairly certain that a man at least helped build it, one who cared a lot about leaving a legacy and hope for the future behind. Either way, don't look a gift ladder in the railings..."

Around halfway up, Annie almost slipped off the climbing holds. Stag wasn't climbing with much reserve left either. It had slipped Orison's mind that even though they both were Chosen of different degrees, they hadn't had any chances to be strengthened beyond mundane levels. It wasn't that they had lived lives that were soft by any means. Three hours of non stop moving and fighting had taken its toll and the ladder climbing had finished them off.

With the narrowness of the hand holds, it would be difficult to safely carry someone and climb and impossible to carry them both. With that thought in mind, Orison took turns swinging them into an empty light fixture s.p.a.ce that made for a slightly cramped but serviceable resting spot. Once they were situated sitting beside each other, Orison scrambled in and fit by sitting at the lip with their legs laying on top of his own.

Orison was irritated that all the fighting had netted him nothing but a little scavenged loot. Locked away from Osomo, there were no rewards to be had and his two temporary teammates received nothing at all, not even the internal strengthening that should come with battling it out against so many creatures. Inspired, however, by observing how the sparks worked and having deconstructed quite a few from the contraband pile before the rest had been confiscated, he moved a bright mote of condensed eternium into each of them.

Where they outside, the crystallized essence would have been seized by Osomo before it had a chance to deliver any but a small amount of nouris.h.i.+ng essence to another person because such an infusion was only safely possible through the spark a person possessed. In here, it could be done but one mote was all their sparks could endure because they weren't made to hold that much at once to process. Considering how many shades, animated corpses and toothy grubs it took to make one, Orison felt that one mote for each was more than a fair share anyway.

The infusion would help them recover more quickly and give them a little more stamina but for the moment, fatigue mixed with a jolt of strengthening that was a little too rich meant a small nap. That was fine with the young mage. He doubted what waited for them after they reached the top of the ladder was going to be a day spa.