Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Xaos
When the ladies turned indecisive about what eatery to try, Amdirlain left them to sort out a post-training meal and returned to the suite. As she sat opposite Rasha in the library, he gave an ear twitch towards the front door.
“Have they gone back to Cemna without me?”
“No, they trained with the local guards and are now getting lunch,” explained Amdirlain. “While I can tell Nomein’s used to managing her time, I think the others aren’t used to setting their own schedules.”
Rasha nodded. “I could tell from their clearance of the city that they expected me to prompt them. I’ll continue letting them progress at a pace of their choice. Should I ask about your plans?”
“Some are more advanced than I had expected since my first attempt at surveyors seems to be working. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that they’ll stay in orbit long enough to isolate the undead’s songs. While they work, I’ll study Votari and prepare for Torm’s capture,” advised Amdirlain.
“I hope that happens sooner rather than later,” offered Rasha, and they exchanged grim nods.
“Hopefully, before he makes things worse for himself,” agreed Amdirlain.
“How do you plan to restore them from their distorted perspective?”
Amdirlain made the path’s amulet appear and twirled it between her fingers. “I’m going to repurpose the link to the plinth. It has a connection to Gideon, so I thought I might use that to get them to replay their existence. The corruption distorted their perspective, replaying on a loop repeatedly might make them see their choices the way they originally had, but I’ll have to see if it doesn’t make things worse. Ebusuku said she gained from seeing her younger self from an older perspective, but their present is twisted beyond recognition.”
A slow wide-eyed blink greeted that news. “You’re going to get the aspect of Knowledge to help?”
“Not exactly. That''s against their rules; but something like the corridor of choices in the trial should be possible. It’s not a magic fix, but corruption currently distorts all the memories of the pair I’ve captured. I need to get an opposing point of view into their minds,” explained Amdirlain. “When I touched the plinth, I experienced the deaths of mortals and the lives they would have had. I’m hoping that Gideon will share the knowledge of the lives as they originally lived them, or at least the key choices as the corridor presents.”
“Hope?” Rasha asked, his lips curling into a decidedly Cheshire smile.
“Hope and sheer bloody-mindedness is the only thing that has kept me going, ?Ras,” said Amdirlain. "How did the corridor feel to you?"
"You warned me about its difficulty, and it lived up to that warning," admitted Rasha. "It showed me the choices I regretted or had worried about but also happy choices. Sometimes seeing those was the hardest because it showed me those the tribe had lost over the years."
Amdirlain smiled sadly. “I can remember my previous life perfectly now and regret that I left so much unsaid. Let’s talk about something happier; why don’t you tell me about Gail growing up?”
His ears gave a brief twitch. “Do you need another’s perspective of her?”
“It’s just, I bet she got up to a lot of amusing antics, the way Ebusuku and she were when visiting,” explained Amdirlain. “I’ve got songs from Votari and the desolate worlds alike to study. I could use a buffer of laughter before I start.”
“Where do you want me to start?” asked Rasha.
"At the beginning."
Huffing in amusement, Rasha began with the first time he’d met Gail after leaving the maze and followed up with the type of embarrassing tales typically told at twenty-first birthday parties.
The antics she’d expected were there, and more, a strange blend of childlike innocence with far too much awareness of herself and others. Amdirlain’s laughter drew the others into the library when they finally returned.
“Know that I didn’t think Ras told such wonderful jokes,” commented Gemiya from the doorway.
“Oh, tales of a mutual acquaintance when she was a child. How was lunch?”
“Trill understated the size of the bowls at that tavern—their servings were huge. We split one between the four of us, and I’m still full,” replied Nomein, still out in the corridor. “I’m just going to meditate while this meal digests.”
“Don’t snore too loudly,” replied Amdirlain.
“Meditate, not sleep,” countered Nomein, waving before she headed towards her bedroom.
Amdirlain returned the wave and focused on the others. “What are your plans for the afternoon?”
“Know we intend a bit of light training, and we’ll ask Ras to assist us in reviewing the buildings we covered,” advised Gemiya. “Know that Nomein pointed out that if we don’t improve our speed and efficiency, the extra years you’ve provided will disappear before we know it.”
* * * * *
Their plans left Amdirlain with most of the afternoon and night free to study. Rather than delve into the dead world, she focused on understanding the living network of organisms needed to ensure a balanced ecology. While it was time-consuming work, a night of study triggered another progress notification for True Song Architecture. The subtle songs interlinking elements and themes Amdirlain hadn’t expected allowed her insights into other possibilities rather than cramming new knowledge into her head.
After the others departed, Amdirlain headed to the training hall; there, she found Enrig and the others she’d practised with sparring close to the arena’s entrance when she arrived.
With a flare of his nostrils, Enrig flicked his ears towards the barrier. “The others not accompanying you today, Am?”
“Nope, you’ll have to endure my terrible presence by itself,” replied Amdirlain. “They’ll frequently be off exploring with Ras.”
Callen, the only Elf among the guardsmen Amdirlain had met, headed towards them and joined the line of Rat-kin. His skin, hair, and eyes were all shades of pale green, making him a strange sight, even without contrasting to the earthen tones of the rat-kins’ fur or his hide armour.
“Your fighting style is interesting. Are you open to teaching others?” asked Callen.
“It’s been a long time since I taught anyone an unarmed style and never in its current form,” admitted Amdirlain. “It would be an experiment that might not pay off.”
Callen shrugged. “Individual styles develop from learning at all opportunities and incorporating what works. The Rat-kin have a traditional spear fighting style that I’ve adopted elements of into my people’s style.”
“Alright, let me start with basic techniques, and we can find out what works for different folks,” acknowledged Amdirlain.
Bedevere had split off from his supervising group and moved up alongside Callen. “Did you plan to go over bare-handed styles or weapons?”
The emphasis on weapons had Amdirlain bite the inside of her mouth to delay her immediate response. “I’ll stick with bare-handed for now; less chance for accidents while I learn people’s capabilities. Line up, and I’ll first review what I consider basic strikes. The kicks I use, we’ll need to approach carefully, given the extended ankles of the Rat-kin.”
Enrig laughed and waggled his foot. “The leg sweeps and unbalancing attacks you used work well. Could we try that?”
“We’ll see, but let’s work up to that,” replied Amdirlain.
The Rat-kin’s long fingers and nails would impede forming a fist for standard punches. That aside, she could picture their advantage to techniques like spear hand strikes and Farhad’s eagle claw style. With that in mind, Amdirlain started with the most straightforward techniques and worked upwards, not knowing what they might find helpful.
The routine of practice with the guards starkly contrasted with the sense of isolation within her bolt holes. Even when others had visited, the oppressive confinement had never really lifted. Despite the enclosed training hall, the music from beyond gave the experience a drifting relaxation. When she wandered back towards the inn after the lesson, she listened to those about her—not their songs, but their everyday interactions. As the sunlight’s warmth washed across her face, the sound of mundane conversations and playing children lifted her spirits.
Whenever she wanted to take a break from her study, further use of Analysis of Aogruco’s connections to worlds spurred her determination. Picking a spot towards the rooftop’s edge, she didn’t dig into the desolate music the orbital surveyors had captured and focused on studying the lifeform’s songs instead. Each new world she found where they’d either wiped out the original species—or had them under siege—got added to a memory crystal.
The growing numbers she isolated from among Aogruco’s song tightened Amdirlain’s shoulders, and she had to let the anger wash by her.
“How to get them help,” sighed Amdirlain as she rolled the crystal between her fingers. The established Pantheon’s control over the worlds she’d found made her little more than a powerless observer, a limited one at that, with her surveyors still being tested.
[World: Umbas
Age: 4.7 billion years
Sun: G-Type (yellow dwarf)
Landmass Type: Assorted small continental land masses and archipelagos
Average diameter: 13.8 thousand kilometres (Earth-type)
Planetary Orbit: 362.7 days
Tilt: 23.2%
Environmental range: Temperate, Continental, Dry, and Polar. The southern polar region is a permanent ice pack with no land mass beneath it.
Status: Developed
Local civilisation advancement levels:
Cultural: Cities
Technology achieved: High-Quality Metals
Magical advancement: Full Spell lists, embedded enchantments
Local primary species (averaged population percentage of total sapient species):
Elven, single variant (2.7%)
Other (1%)
Intruder species:
Formithian (96.3%)
Population: 2.1 Trillion
Incursion Status:
Frequent (Broad range of Elemental and Outsider visitors throughout history)
Local Pantheon Status:-
Classification: Organised
Priest Types: Priests
Worship Types: Organised religion
Foreign Pantheon Status:
Formithian Pantheon: Organised. Dominant control of the planet. ]
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Twisting Analysis around, Amdirlain focused on using it to learn what had died out since the Formithian had intruded. The hum of Analysis’ song dipped into tones similar to the plinth’s connection to Gideon and, even as a result returned, the music confirmed the need to seek other plans.
[World: Umbas
Recent extinct species:
Elves, four variants
Orc, two variants
Various ecosystems of non-sapient creatures.
Note: The flawed lens of the present will still influence even perfect knowledge of the past.]
[Analysis [S] (28->29)]
Gideon, are you slipping? That hint was almost direct feedback on what I felt. The process of the plinth works for those already seeking redemption.
[Formithian intrusion: 317,934 local years
Discovered by: Yambul (Astral Deva)
Note: A certain Pantheon has conducted so many intrusions since Ori’s departure. Just as well there are millions of habitable worlds out there now.]
Ori was obstructing them? No wonder they were so scathing talking to me.
Gideon’s words provoked a memory of a glowing Gate reaching between worlds. A savage theme shattered the magic and spilled thousands into the void of space. Amdirlain pushed the memory aside and focused solely on the Formithian. A shift in memories brought up metre-long specimens methodically constructing a nest in the hillside above a river. The night sky was a blackness empty of stars, and the day’s lingering heat emanated from the stones about them.
“The light from other stars hadn’t reached their system yet. That was very early, or on the initial galaxy’s edge. So their approach then was a slow but steady growth,” murmured Amdirlain to herself. “Has that changed?”
Standing, Amdirlain paced along the path while she considered modifications to the surveyor’s current design. She was still working on additional safety measures when the others returned home, dusty but relatively unscathed.
“You look out of sorts,” noted Rasha. “Keep pacing like that, and you’ll wear a hole in the floor.”
“Did you explore the town today or just return after training?” asked Nomein.
“I think I’ll limit myself to venturing out to the training hall for the next few weeks,” advised Amdirlain. “I’ve got a few preparations to make and a lot of research.”
“Know that we purchased some warm food on the way to the inn. Inventory is handy for keeping meals warm; come join us,” offered Lezekus, beckoning Amdirlain to come inside.
* * * * *
Spurred on by Tyr’s information on Mimir, Amdirlain spent most of the following week reviewing the preparations for her prisoners. Experiments with corruption in Culerzic’s bolt holes had confirmed ways to bait its behaviour, and she fine-tuned the controlling songs. Injecting constructed memories into muddied souls had given her mechanisms to bait the corruption and shield untainted memories from its grasp.
Trips to her new home planes had seen bolt holes set up, though she’d kept them to a bare minimum. Small groups of connected chambers, with True Song wards in place to prevent anything determining their location through any Mana present. A safe spot to jump into if she found herself banished to any of them.
After another few weeks, she’d settled into a daily routine. Conversing with the ladies daily was her only form of relaxation. Besides attending the training hall for a few hours each day, she focused on studying the living songs to progress in True Song Architecture and Resonance.
Having braced herself for the potential years before Torm’s recovery, a Message appearing beside her one afternoon took Amdirlain by complete surprise.
“He’s secured, and they’ve arrived at the last place we spoke.”
Tyr’s voice buzzing in the Message orb had Amdirlain sitting upright in a rush, spilling the memory crystals she’d been examining onto the library’s floor. Storing them with a thought, she teleported to the clearing where they’d confronted the Formithian and found four beings present.
Tyr stood talking to two solars in their full golden armour with their white wings half-furled. Like a shadow struggling to live in the radiance from the solars’ wings, the blackened figure of a wolf-headed man stood between them in chains. Spiked remnants of shattered wings extended from his back, tattered fragments stained with ichor were all that remained of his clothing.
The blackness of his flesh wasn’t stone but the roughness of charcoal; fresh wounds oozed a tar-like fluid, and a cut that bled freely had shortened an ear. Amdirlain checked the figure with Analysis, and grimaced at the details.
[Name: Vánagandr
Species: Fallen
Class: Ravager / Abyssal Hunter / Wizard / Assassin
Level: 52 / 52 / 52 / 52 / 48
Health: 1,120,478
Defence: 5,450
Magic: 582
Mana: 3,228,788
Melee Attack Power: 5,385
Combat Skills: Sword-Lord [GM] (23), Long Axe [GM] (56), Throwing Weapons [GM] (6), Unarmed [M] (98); Assorted Affinities, blessings, and lower tier Spell lists.
Details: Formerly known as Torm. In service to Tyr, he rose to the species rank of Planatar after a bunch of freeloading and a smidge of actual effort. He should have considered his seniority before continually following an idiot’s instructions. Since his fall, he’s been killing demons for fun and profit and enjoying copious quantities of succubi’s hot passages after taking over Viper’s Hollow.
Oath Linked: 8239 assorted demons.
Note: The wolf pup doesn’t look so cute anymore.]
Amdirlain sighed and severed the links, their destruction unleashing a discordant screech.
The Solar on his left nodded respectfully to Amdirlain. “His flesh, even undamaged, has this charcoal appearance. He tried to fight free even when we had him locked down. I think he’d been trying to buy time for other powers to react to our presence where he’d holed up.”
“Torm,” intoned Amdirlain, and she ripped the adopted name away and restored his original. “You aren’t who you once were, but we''ll see about helping you heal.”
“Will you just shut up?” jeered Torm. “I didn’t believe even you could be stubborn or stupid enough to send solars into the Abyss. It’s always the same with you, placing others in danger that you won’t undertake yourself.”
Starting a song, she silently weakened his grip on discretion and nudged at the new arrogance and rage within him.
Amdirlain glanced at the Solar, who’d spoken earlier and got a smug smile. “Erwarth and Isa masked our auras.”
“After your message to Livia, it’s interesting to learn you were building up a group of toadies in the Abyss instead,” commented Amdirlain.
The curl of his split lips didn’t detract from the sadistic gleam in his gaze. “Did a love note from an apparent stalker get your attention? How much effort did you waste running around chasing your tail? I thought that was only fair after you wasted so much of my time waiting around for you.”
His voice, so close in timbre to Torm’s yet filled with malice, dug at Amdirlain, but she acknowledged the spike of grief and let it pass.
“Why did you get so many demons oath-linked to you?”
“Are you the only one allowed to accumulate disposable lackeys?” questioned Torm. “Why wouldn’t I want allies more trustworthy than you to back me up? You, with all your secrets and hollow promises, to—eventually—share them. Did you risk using others to chase me down out of guilt? That seems to be the only thing that motivates you—certainly not affection. It’s always about you, your guilt, and your pain, isn’t it?”
The temptation to shut him up flared higher, but Amdirlain forced herself to wait and see if he gave anything away. Some of his edged taunts would have once had Amdirlain second-guessing herself, but now they slid away, and she let him spew his venom-laden tirade.
Minutes into the rant, he caught the lack of effect and changed tactics.
“Are you even concerned about me, or masturbating with your guilt? Should I stir your fears with bitter truths? Fear and guilt are the only things you truly care about. You wouldn’t believe how much I made selling even scraps from among the knowledge you’d so freely shared. The demons will be far more formidable now that I’ve sold the details of how to gain the Tier 5 and higher Prestige classes.”
The news wasn’t unexpected, though Amdirlain doubted many demons would care to tell rivals how to get stronger.
“If you’re so interested in profit, I’m surprised you didn’t sell me out to Moloch,” observed Amdirlain after she let another flurry of spiteful words flow past her.
“Go near another Hidden after being stupid enough to waste time on you? Why would I bother?” scoffed Torm. “I wanted a power base of my own not to return to pathetically waiting for another’s shallow attentions.”
“You expect me to believe you didn’t at least attempt to get out to the Material Plane?” mused Amdirlain.
“With all the time wasted playing Verdandi’s friendly puppy and looking out for your pathetic friends, it was the last place I wanted to be. Did I keep your foolish friends looking in the wrong places?” sneered Torm. “Good little lackeys running around while I had fun and enjoyed myself for the first time.”
“Someone used your game to stir up trouble, so congratulations, you look like a gimp who couldn’t even follow up on his bragging,” retorted Amdirlain, and she nodded at the snarl her provocation gained. “The corruption has scarred the foundation of who you were; you think you can give it out, but can’t take it.”
“Spare me your rubbish and just destroy me. I’d rather that than spend one minute listening to your whining and platitudes,” mocked Torm, and he shot a look at Tyr. “Are you and the cripple getting it on now?”
Amdirlain shook her head. “That’s the corruption talking; let’s work on sorting that out. You can tell that destroying you would still hurt, and you want to inflict a lasting injury.”
As he started to respond, Amdirlain wrapped a sound barrier around him.
“Apologies. If I’d checked more places after Gideon’s dig about memory lane, I’d have saved you Mimir’s fee,” said Amdirlain, and she gave Tyr a respectful nod. “I hope it wasn’t something that will cause you problems in the future.”
“Fen and I have been preparing to restore Mimir’s body,” advised Tyr. “Right now, he’s eagerly awaiting my payment. Mimir has a celebration planned for outlasting Odinn.”
“Will you listen to my thoughts on Rhithri and Weregild?” asked Amdirlain. “I’d value a second opinion.”
Tyr nodded. “I said I’d assist you in getting them to pay their debt.”
“The corruption can’t stand the heavenly planes, but the Fallen can’t go near it in person. My purification field is mild compared to being close to a connection to a heavenly Plane like the Gate I opened here. I’m going to set an oath link between Torm and Rhithri. Once it’s in place, the uncorrupted memories will lure the corruption away to its destruction,” advised Amdirlain.
“What will that do to Rhithri?”
Amdirlain gave a hard smile. “They’ll experience a lot of pain. I’ve got a shield developed, but the worst case is that they might lose some memories if the corruption latches on fully before it burns away. If I detect the shield will collapse, I’ll sever the link and let them recover.”
“They’ve already said they won’t cooperate,” critiqued Tyr.
“Does any unrepentant criminal agree with the punishment they’ve earned?” argued Amdirlain. “The cell was a nest within the Abyss, yet Rhithri was the only one from that nest that didn’t suffer because they put their own goals above the nest. Rhithri betrayed the greater good of the nest for his personal goals and brought corruption to three pure beings. Regardless of how it’s justified after the fact, they had no absolute certainty of how things would work out.”
“You’re planning to twist them on the hook of their Liege’s nature and principals,” observed Tyr. “But it’s their principles viewed from your perspective. Even if you achieve this goal, that doesn’t mean their Liege won’t come after you. Their views are not your own. Your True Song leaves nothing I can see, marking you as the source of unexplained agony.”
“If it had just been a clash of views, after I cooled down I’d have let it slide, but there is far more going on with this species. They need to learn that understanding goes both ways and that others, especially those not of their species, aren’t theirs to utilise without a fully informed agreement,” disagreed Amdirlain.
Tyr gently clasped her shoulder. “I understand your point, but why take this chance, Amdirlain? Is there something else that drives your decision?”
Amdirlain gave him the exact details she’d shared with Moradin and handed over the memory crystals she’d prepared.
“There are billions of current and future lives who are having their home worlds stolen away,” replied Amdirlain, and she retrieved a memory crystal she’d prepared with details of worlds. “The Formithian pantheon can make their own worlds but see themselves as more worthy, so simply take from others. I won’t step aside when I could help the natives of those worlds, regardless of what it costs me.”
“Won’t the Formithian face judgement under the Titan’s rules?” asked Tyr.
Amdirlain sighed sadly and shook her head. “The plinth judged me based on enjoyment and anger involved in the activities that harmed mortals, even inadvertently—it didn’t care I’d killed the Astral Deva to free her while angry at Moloch. The Formithian pantheon isn’t harming the mortals directly, just passing on details to their followers. From what Analysis told me, their celestials have been finding the worlds. The Formithian deities only cared about their nests, so it’s possible the rules cannot understand the formithians’ current complete and utter apathy towards other lifeforms.”
“If you are going to war with the formithians, I’d suggest you give no warning,” advised Tyr.
“Might I propose an alternative?” offered the Solar, who’d remained silent.
“What did you have in mind, Snorri?” asked Tyr.
“I’ll accept the risk for Torm’s restoration,” said Snorri. “Rather than link to this Rhithri and let him know your intent to fight their ways before you’re ready.”
Tyr looked at him inquiringly. “Are you sure, Snorri?”
“Torm was our shield brother, and this is twice those serving another Deity have used him for their own goals. We should all be wary that such doesn’t continue, and we should start with how we help him up. Let’s save the knife work for when the war horns sound,” proposed Snorri.
He nodded respectfully to Amdirlain before motioning to the memory crystal. “If they are stealing worlds on such a scale, it will certainly become necessary, but you should ensure your strength first, Lady Amdirlain. While it is right to recover Weregild, these are not beings that understand our concept of honour or justice. If they care nothing but for their species’ nests, they will not see the Abyss group as a nest but as one of their own risking themselves among the unworthy.”
Snorri had spoken without a hint of reproach, and Tyr nodded thoughtfully at him.
“Is there anything we can do to ensure his safety?” asked Tyr.
“I don’t want to risk it, Snorri,” objected Amdirlain.
“It’s a risk I’d take to prevent my Liege and you from fighting a war before you have the need,” countered Snorri. “I know the choice isn’t mine alone, Lady Amdirlain, but please know that I’d happily endure agony to ensure a brother the opportunity to heal and return to himself.”
“I as well, if involving the two of us can lessen the risk,” offered the first Solar.
Amdirlain swallowed and blew out a sharp breath. “I had hoped Rhithri would ask what he could do; instead, he disregarded their fate.”
Though his helm hid much of Snorri’s features, Amdirlain caught his mouth twisting in distaste. “I am not this Rhithri.”
His partner gave a curt nod. “You had no part in the Formithian theft of worlds, but you would stand up for the mortals you don’t know. Please allow us to stand for our brother and help him.”
Letting out a slow breath at the conviction in their words, Amdirlain caught the pride in Tyr’s gaze. “Transformation sites gather the corruption of the Abyss. Do you know of locations that gather the energy of the heavenly planes?” asked Amdirlain.
“No, but there are those I can ask,” replied Tyr. “If nothing is like them, what is the optimum condition we’re looking for?”
“A Transformation Site is a location of concentrated corruption and allows a Demon to shift into a more powerful species combining its classes. Do you know of a place on the heavenly planes that allows celestials to do something similar?” enquired Amdirlain.
Tyr shook his head. “There is no need. Celestials can transform on their own when they become strong enough. There are the celestial wellsprings, but they don’t draw in the Domain or even the Plane’s energy; rather, they send energy out into the Plane.”
“If their surroundings have higher concentrations of celestial energies, the corruption will burn up faster as it crosses the planes and enters them. The quicker the purging occurs, the less pain and the longer the shielding I’ve developed will hold,” advised Amdirlain.
“Let’s see to securing him in your prison then and start the process,” replied Tyr.
Remembering the agony she suffered through multiple ascensions, Amdirlain’s mind raced with a way to repay them for their sacrifice. “After we get this done, would you like them and others among your forces to accompany me for some fighting?”
Tyr smiled. “Mars guessed the difference fighting beside you makes, but I haven’t shared that information with others. If you would take the time to do so, I’m sure they’d find honour in your company.”
“Fighting in a party with me leaves outsiders able to progress at a Mortal’s pace afterwards,” Amdirlain said, and the solars wings flared in shock.
“I don’t know if this will even work to restore Torm,” warned Amdirlain.
“Given how he speaks to you, do you think he has a chance otherwise?” asked Snorri.
Amdirlain grimaced. “I don’t know, but I’d say it’s unlikely.”
After opening a Gate to the prison, securing him took moments. Once within the confirmation of the True Song barriers, the energy of the purification field caused the ichor leaking from his wounds to steam.
The theme that set the oath link between Torm and Snorri felt to Amdirlain like she seized a protesting kitten. With it locked in place, a song to shield Snorri’s memories against the corruption quickly followed. “It’s done. I can’t say how much I appreciate your help and the risk you are taking.”
“We both have reasons to be thankful for the other,” replied Snorri, momentarily pausing before he continued. “I had expected to feel discomfort from the link alone, yet it doesn’t feel like anything is present. I’ll go directly to a wellspring.”
True to his word, Snorri immediately vanished.