Phil woke up in a cold sweat. He had dreamt of dark streets, dust, and an impossibly tall tower, but even as he sat up, the images began to fade.
He had been lying in a bed with soft plush covers up to his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember climbing into the four-poster bed, the room it sat in, and wherever else he was.
What had happened?
The memories flowed into him like a raging river, and he could almost feel the physical pain of the torture as he remembered the details of his captivity. Torn flesh, pain, and a dark room with a single light haunted his thoughts.
Phil ran his hand down his bare arm. It was smooth, no hint of the cuts he had received. He wished that the memories could be healed over just as easily.
He was naked, he realized, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed onto the cold stone floor. A quick search with his eyes revealed a bundle of folded clothes nearby.
Pushing up to his feet to dress, he was overcome with a wash of nausea. He hadn't stood that quickly, but he saw stars. It seemed he wasn't as healed as he appeared to be.
Nausea passed, and he was left with aching muscles and a stiff back. It didn't take him long to slip the pants, boots, and belt on, all of which were a dark brown color of simple make. But as he reached for the silky deep maroon shirt, he stopped.
Sweat began beading on his forehead and stars blotted his vision once more. Red. Screams echoing in his head as he did the unthinkable.
No. No. He couldn't have done what he was remembering. He wasn't a killer, no matter what the circumstance.
The rage he had felt as he committed the unspeakable act felt like a pale excuse. The man had hurt him. Hurt him more than anyone and anything, but did that justify what he had done?
Holding the shirt tight to his chest, he slumped back onto the bed and lay flat. He had to focus on something else, anything else.
A blue flicker of light caught his attention. Beside the bed, sitting on a dark oak nightstand, was that blue orb. Sitting mid-table, it pulsed a steady blue light. Phil picked it up, and warmth filled him. The feeling that everything would be okay washed through him. His body stopped shaking, he had been shaking. He felt his mind being pulled back from the brink.
"It will be okay." The words filled the stillness of the room, and he knew he had spoken them, but they didn't feel like his words.
"Of course, it will!" a voice echoed from an adjacent room. "Get dressed and met me in the sitting room." It was Golder's voice, he realized.
The short, swarthy man had saved his life twice now.
Phil pulled the silky shirt over his head and lowered the orb from his tight grip and pocketed it.
Walking through the door into what looked like a fancy sitting room. Tables with chairs and lounging sofas laid about, the room was more extensive even than the one he had just come from he realized. A sweet flowery scent mixed with the smell of musk and sweat, presumably from Golder, Phil thought.
Golder was covered in blacks, grays, and dust all but his face. It looked as if he had tried his best to wipe away whatever covered him but managed to only move it around enough to show a small bit of his large nose and heavy brows. Even his brown hair seemed to be a dark shade of black now.
Seeming to sense the meaning of Phil's gaze Golder spoke.
"I've been busy in the workshop. It's good you are finally awake, Zarrick has been getting impatient waiting for you."
He was as gruff as ever, but a hint of a smirk played across his face.
Impatient waiting for him to wake up?
"How long have I been sleeping?" Phil asked.
"Aye, let me see. Nearly eight days by my counting." Golder said. His tone was cheery, but then his voice darkened. "They did a number on you. Not just your flesh, they tore deeper into your so...Never mind that, though. Unimportant! I will tell you though, I've never seen Zarrick so close to anger than when he saw the extent of your injuries. In fact, you'd best be on your way."
Then without much more than a how-do-you-do Golder jumped free of the chair and pushed, more than led, Phil down into a series of dimly lit stone walls.
For the first time since waking up, Phil noticed several things. First, he hadn't seen a single window yet. And second, the halls and his room, now that he thought about it, were all being lit by orbs of light. In the straight corridor, with its single long strip of carpet that seemed to never end, there were only lights ever twenty feet or so, and if he squinted, he would swear that they were winking out behind them and flaring to light in front of them, several hundred feet distant.
"I give you Phil the one you sought," Golder said. His knee was bent, and he kept his eyes on the floor.
Phil looked at him confused, unsure if he was meant to bow as well. The man Golder had taken him to see, Zarrick, sat behind a high desk that filled the width of the entire small room. Compared to his bedchamber, this room looked fit to be a closet, Phil mused.
The man, if you could call him that, sat behind the large desk and his face was lit by the light of a large cigar every time he took a drag. Only a single of those floating lights lit the room, and it hovered mid-room but dimmer than any he had seen in the hallway.
Zarrick was as puzzling as any of the strange things he had seen so far in this strange world. He wore a formal black coat with a high collar and a nearly faded yellow white shirt beneath. A necktie of sorts hung around his collar, and a ruby gem seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.
What had caught Phil off guard were the two large ears that sat on either side of Zarrick's face. For one thing, each ear was bigger than his face, and they stuck flat against his head, ending at a dull point. Gray and black hair grew in funny patches coming out of his ear and on the top of it. His face seemed human enough, perhaps his nose was smaller than what Phil would expect on such a small head, but the eyes looked normal enough.
The eyes. Dark and nearly no white could be seen in the dim light. Phil turned his head to the floor. Those eyes pierced deeper than a dagger. He felt as if he stood naked again. All of his thoughts and actions seemed laid bare in front of the small man thing. An eternity seemed to pass before someone finally spoke.
"I asked you to come." A slow, deliberate voice said that Phil assigned to Zarrick as soon as he heard it. "Your wounds are your own and could have been avoided. Will you resist me further? I can let you out to play with your friends a bit more if you'd like? Or have you come to hear my offer of," Zarrick drew out the word before saying. "Assistance."
Phil looked up from the floor but dropped his gaze again after meeting Zarrick's eyes. He felt like he had let down a parent, but he didn't even know this man-thing! Why should he have jumped to do as some random person told him to do?
"I will not resist." Phil was shocked. That had been his voice. He had said that? Well, it wasn't like he didn't owe the man for saving his life and healing him. Yeah, that's it. He tried to reassure himself, all the while thinking about that stare that Zarrick gave him. He knew that he would have agreed to almost anything. The man's slightest look held power and reassurance beyond any Phil had even felt in anyone real or digital.
"Good. Good." Zarrick said. His voice was as smooth as oil drifting atop water. "A special friend of mine was able to divert your coming into this world, and I fear, in a small way, that I am to blame for the attention you had thrust upon you by the Paladin's."
Phil just nodded and did his best to focus on Zarrick's words. A small part of his mind thought this must be a quest of some sort, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. This was unlike any VR fantasy game he had ever played, not that he had played many, that was always Beth's thing.
He had been stabbed, tortured, and thrown around since arriving and it was about time he pushed the thoughts of this being only a game out of his mind. This was his new reality, no matter how hellish it might have turned out to be.
"As I was saying," Zarrick said. He was eyeing him and seemed to be aware that his thoughts had wondered. "I am, partially, to blame for the unfortunate events that followed your arrival. However, we can now be of more use to each other than I had hoped."
A thought struck at Phil suddenly.
"How did the Paladin's know where to find me?" Phil asked. "Or better yet, why did they want me? They.." His voice faltered, but he steeled himself. "They were humans like me, from Earth and.." Phil took a deep breath and shuffled his feet.
"I know a great many things," Zarrick said. "But why they would seek a singular deviation, I am unable to guess. I am aware of your peoples migration and other than a small sect of the Paladin's in the city I hadn't expected any to notice the shifting of the…" Zarrick's voice trailed off, and he rubbed his chin in thought.
Phil raised his eyes from the floor during the silence and spared a glance towards Golder. The thick-limbed stout man had found a lounging chair to the side and was thumbing a slow-burning pipe. A sweet, smoky smell reached Phil's nose, and he let out a long sigh. Whatever Golder was smoking, it quickly had the effect of calming Phil's nerves.
"I have a task for you, and I purpose several things in exchange," Zarrick said. Phil blinked slowly and turned his head back towards Zarrick. The small man was leaning over his desk and starred down at Phil. His eyebrow crooked up on the left, and he let out a small chuckle.
"What task?" Phil asked. He felt good. Even the flashes of painful memories were being held at bay, and when they did strike through, he seemed less affected by them.
"I see you are." Zarrick paused and eyed Golder hotly. "Relaxed." He continued. "Regardless I will present you with a thorough contract of any agreements made so that we can agree nothing was done unseemly. Sit and have a drink we have much to discuss."
Phil found a chair opposite of Golder and melted into it.
***
"I need an item that I am hard pressed to obtain," Zarrick said. He still loomed over both Phil and Golder, but his voice had relaxed somewhat and his eyes, while still hard as steel, had a kinder edge about them.
"Why not send Golder?" Phil asked, casually. He was still relaxed by the wafting of the smoke coming from Golder across the room, but not nearly as bad as he had when he first sat down.
Phil couldn't imagine that he would be able to accomplish something that Golder couldn't easily do. He had seen the man cut down someone before they had even lifted their hand to touch the hilt of their sword.
"There are things you need to know about this world," Zarrick said. "This is a realm of magic. Not pulling bunnies out of hats or card tricks but the weaving and pulling of powers used in the creation of existence. Many things can be changed and altered with that power, but a very few remain immutable. Golder has ascended and took the boon of a god, as have I. However, of the six boons we know of, there are few left that carry the Eldritch gods boon."
"Eldritch god?" Phil asked. He vaguely remembered reading a horror book that talked about eldritch gods with tentacles and harbingers of death.
"Yes," Zarrick said. "In the last fifty years the halls of the Eldritch Knights, as they called themselves, were abandoned or forced from cities until only their great keep remained. And in force ten years ago all the Orders banned against the weakened Eldritch Knights and tore down that place as well. All the Knights were killed that defended the keep. But recently we've heard rumors that one of the three great lieutenants before the fall has resurfaced. His name is Crimson Death."
"Crimson Death?"
"Crimson Death!"
Phil asked, a hint of humor in his voice at the silly name. At the same time, Golder shouted the name and coughed on his pipe, clearly startled.
"You'd be sending him to his death!" Golder said. He was on his feet and looked none too relaxed anymore. "Surely you don't…" His voice trailed off as Zarrick turned his gaze on him. That calm hard look melted Golder back into his chair, and silence filled the room once more.
The noise of soft leather boots broke the silence. Phil stopped shifting his feet when the noise filled the room so completely. Instead, he sat still and pressed his lips together while looking at Golder and then to Zarrick. Eventually, Zarrick spoke again.
"Yes. The so called Crimson Death. He is said to be a fierce warrior and can weave the threads of power as good as the best Wizard. But I know other things about him, and he is the only way forward." Zarrick watched both Golder and then Phil seeming to wait if his words would be challenged again. When they weren't, he continued.
"He is far from here. More than a months journey I'd wager. But rumors speak of his empathy now that his Order has fallen. I think if we bring you to Ascension and send you to him that you might be able to get him to train you. Perhaps he will even hope that together you might be able to restore the Eldritch Knights to their former glory."
"I don't understand how this will help either of us," Phil said. And he really didn't. It was obvious that Zarrick wanted something from this Crimson Death, but if he meant for him to befriend the man just to betray him? Someone who could go around calling themselves Crimson Death with a straight face wasn't someone Phil wanted trying to kill him.
"There is an item I need retrieved," Zarrick said. His voice dropping to barely a whisper. "It resides in the lower half of the Great Keep. No one but the chosen of the Eldritch gods can step foot inside. It is part of the immutable laws of creation. That place will have been untouched even by the hands of looters. Deep inside is an amulet. I will provide you with an acquitted description along with the contract. If we can get this Crimson Death fellow to raise you to an initiate of the Eldritch Order and eventually rise you to a full Knight, then you would be able to take the amulet and return it to me. It will be your right as an Eldritch Knight to enter and take what you will."
"You really think he will just take on a stranger as an Eldritch Knight and if so, why me?" Phil asked. "Why not some random person off the street?" There was something Zarrick wasn't telling him, Phil was sure of it.
"Very few can be raised through the ascension rights," Zarrick said flatly.
"And you think that I have that potential?" Phil shot back.
"I know you do," Zarrick said. "The only exception I've seen in my nearly one thousand years of living is that those that are carried here during a time of migration always have the potential. It is only with time that the blood thins and the potential lessens in the various nations."
"So then why not someone else from earth? From the reports I was able to get my hands on before coming here, there have been millions to join the Haven project." Phil said. He wasn't sure how much he could openly speak about to these computer generations. They seemed aware that he had 'migrated' here, but he treated it like it was a common thing. Wait. Did he say nearly a thousand years old?
Zarrick sighed loudly. He obviously wished to skip any explaining, but Phil kept his gaze level awaiting a response.
"Not long after arriving, all of those who arrive here are branded and set on a path where there is no going back. So finding just anyone with the potential is still next to impossible. But you came in a slightly different way than the others." Zarrick said. "You had the potential; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to complete the process, but your Edwineting runes were completely off. In fact, if I hadn't intercepted your signal, you would have landed a few hundred miles from the coast and likely drowned to death."
Edwineting runes? Signals intercepted? Death? The doctor's words echoed in his mind, half-remembered as bullets flew all around.
'Be careful, you can die. It is more real that you could imagine!'
At the time he had thought he meant the bullets and the attack. But perhaps he had been talking about Haven. More real than he could imagine? Well no duh, he had been tortured, he mused silently, this whole situation was feeling all too real. Did he really want to do this? Maybe he could…no. He had to stick with this for now, maybe as things progressed he would find a way out but for now, he needed the power and training that Zarrick wanted him to undertake, if not for Zarrick's reasons, but for his own.
"I see," Phil said after a long pause. "So I find this guy and convince him that I am worth training. My question still stands, why would he decide to train me?"
"I have heard rumors that say he has grown empathetic in his old age," Zarrick said a smiling creeping over his face. "And we will provide him ample reason to consider you. Don't you worry, I have several plans set up to ensure you receive the proper training. Several…" Zarrick's voice trailed off at the last word, and his eyes glazed over in thought.
"You said it is nearly a months journey away from here?" Phil asked. "How will you ensure my protection from the Paladins if I have to travel that far. They were trying to get some secret out of me, and I don't think me killing one of them helped matters."
Zarrick's eyes widened in sudden surprise and just as fast were back to their normal cold hard stare. "I wasn't aware you had struck one of them down yourself," Zarrick said. "You have more steel in you than I imagined. Regardless I have been preparing things, and you will use a gateway a few miles from the city to travel to the last known location of the Crimson Death. Golder, unfortunately, will be unable to accompany you but with any luck, I will be able to hire a few strong arms to see you to the gatew…" Zarrick's words cut off mid-sentence.
Phil nearly dropped the blue to-round gem from his hands in startlement from the sudden silence. He had felt the gem begin to warm in his pocket and fished it out while Zarrick spoke. It glowed in the strange way it always had as it sat in his palm no bigger than an apple.
"You have a soulgem?" Zarrick said eying the gem in Phil's hand. "Give it to me. I know exactly how we will get you to the gate."
Phil hesitated and clutched the gem hard in his hand. He felt…connected in some way to the gem, and the thought of parting with it gave him more than a moments pause. Zarrick cleared his throat and lashed him with cold, steely eyes, so Phil stood and made a show to slowly hand the gem over.
"I will want that back," Phil said. His voice firm and steady.
"I will put it to good use and return it to you in a proper way," Zarrick said. That same full-faced grin spreading over his face.
A sudden ding from a small bell on Zarrick's desk caused Phil to jump, and his face reddened. Just as he reached his chair and sat the door from the hallway swung open and a terminator walked into the room.
Phil had enjoyed the old Terminator movies and even watched some of the newer remakes with his sister a few years before the announcement of the end of the world. So he knew as he studied the metal man that it wasn't exactly a terminator. It lacked the wires and mechanical joints. Instead, it looked like a gray metal skeleton with thick black ropes woven throughout.
The chest had ribs like a normal human skeleton, but he couldn't see into where the spine should be because of a masterfully woven set of thick cords. Its joints were all woven over with the same cords and allowed a natural smooth movement.
The face, the first thing Phil has seen upon it walking into the room, looked like it belonged in a terminator movie. It was a shiny metallic skull with teeth bare and the cords woven from the bottom into the skull. The eyes glowed with soft blue light and the nose, or where the nose should be, was just a small lump with two horizontal slits.
"First time seeing a golem?" Zarrick asked. He held out the gem, and the golem took it without a word and left the room with it. "They are helpful creations. Only members of the Wizards Order have worked out the secrets of their creation, but If I remember correctly they are still rather common. In their core soulstones give them life. Terrible hard to make soulstones."
"You mean," Phil said. "You are going to use my gem to make a golem?" Panic settled over Phil monetarily. Could he still get it back? What would happen to the presence he felt in the gem if it were used to make a terminator?
"Indeed," Zarrick said, blowing a final buff from his large cigar before putting it out in a small ashtray to his left. "Where did you acquire a soulstone?"
"I woke up next to it," Phil said. He was surprised at how fast he answered and at how honest he had been. He had thought to keep the finding of the gem secret. His experience with the Paladin's made telling the truth an instinctual thing though, and the truth was told before he could stop it.
"Interesting," Zarrick said slowly. His eyes studied Phil for a long moment before continuing. "A soulstone is not a common thing, but it can't be helped. You found it, and I have the ability to make it useful. If you give me your consent, I will train it in basic speech and combat preventive measures. It won't be able to take a life, but it should be ample protection for you if you do get waylaid on the road."
"They can't kill?" Phil asked. A part of him relaxed on hearing the fantasy terminators wouldn't be taking over the world anytime soon.
"What's that?" Zarrick asked. "Oh well no, they cannot. The only known creation runeset to be discovered has an unfortunate line about the taking of lives. As much as I've studied those gate guardians, I can't get around that particular problem. So I keep them for servants, mostly. And they do well for bodyguards, they are able to fight back to a very limited degree. Even a full-on strike from a golem isn't allowed though. It is all a very complicated subject, but I think we've gone over enough for today. I will raise you to Ascended, and in a few days we will send you off to start your task."
Phil nodded but kept his lips tight. Zarrick hadn't given him a clear answer on how he was to get this amulet or convince the Crimson Death to take him on as a student. Letting out a sigh, Phil stood and began walking for the door.
"Ah, wait a moment please," Zarrick said. "There is the matter of your Ascension."
Phil turned and faced the small man. His face was pinched, and he held his hand out towards Phil. Before he was able to ask Zarrick what he meant exactly, pain shot into his chest.
Not as the same as the pain from torture but still as unpleasant. He felt fingers tracing shapes on his chest and a ripping feeling. Trying to look down at his chest, Phil gasped.
Everything around him glowed a translucent blue. A tentacle of blue snaked out from Zarrick's outstretched hand and carved into him. Phil's own body glowed to bursting, and after a quick check, he noted that both Zarrick and Golder glowed in varying degrees as well.
The pain began to subside, and Phil slowly fell to his knees. His head was buzzing, and his eyes stung. Rubbing his eyes vigorously, Phil looked up at the distant words being spoken.
"There we are," Zarrick said. "Let me just set you up with some basic connections, so you don't burn out your soul."
A stretching invasive feeling slammed into Phil, and he felt as if his very being was being stretched and twisted. Tears dropped from his eyes, but he did not cry out.
He knew pain, and while this was painful, it wasn't the worse he had experienced. Finally, the twisting and stretching stopped, and he came alive.
That is the only way to describe the feelings that pounded into him. He could hear two sets of heartbeats, heavy breathing, and the sound of air being stirred outside the door. His mind felt alive, and his thoughts raced.
"I feel…" Phil said. "I feel so alive."
"Yes, Ascension is remarkable," Zarrick said. "You've been opened to the powers of creation. The rune mark on your chest cracks your soul and body together to allow the realms of power to flow through you, but aside from very limited infusing and manipulating power lines inside your own body, there isn't much that has changed. You will be able to heal faster, be a tad stronger, maybe a bit faster, but you are basically the same."
Phil did not feel the same. He felt alive for the first time in his life. Everything felt enhanced. Even his memory, he realized. In near perfect detail, the memories of his sisters death, followed by memories of the great times they had together after his parents passed flowed through his head. Push it down, he told himself. Focus on staying alive.
"You won't feel like it, but you do need some rest," Zarrick said. "The body and soul are weakened and will remain so until you've allowed enough power to fill yourself. You are a funnel, and the bowl that is yourself is basically empty right now."
Phil wanted to tell him that he was fine, but just then a wash of fatigue managed to break through his feelings of power. Maybe he could use a bit of food and a few hours of sleep.