Brewer King 43 (Patreon)

A woman sat on a stone under bright moonlight. San looked around his surroundings, seeing a far off ocean on the horizon and tall skeletal trees towering over him. Snow crunched under his boots and he saw that he was dressed as he had been the first day he arrived to this world.

The woman glanced in his direction and San caught the high cheekbones and brilliant green eyes. She nodded at him and turned back to looking at the far horizon. She wasn’t dressed for the weather, dark fabric wrapped around her shoulders with mismatched metallic plates that glowed under the moonlight. A dented helmet sat beside her, along with a massive sword that looked to have come right out of an anime.

He was not in White Tower, San knew. He had been brewing, creating the yeast strain that would help purify things. Now he was in this place, probably a dream or a hallucination. The meeting with the Stoneman came to his mind. Perhaps in a whole different time and place altogether.

“Hello,” San said.

The woman turned back toward him and nodded again, not speaking.

“Where am I?”

The woman gestured toward the ocean and beckoned him toward her. San hesitated, but as he had been brought here, he realized he was at her mercy.  He stepped forward, crossing the snow covered ground and standing beside her.

They were on a cliff overlooking a vast city. It wasn’t White Tower, it was far bigger than White Tower, seemingly stretching from horizon to horizon, finally ending at the edge of the distant ocean. Tens of thousands of lights burned and wavered in the night, street lamps, house lamps, and torches on the walls of the great city.

“Votaro,” the woman said.

“The capitol of the Empire?” San remarked.

He couldn’t see that far into the city, even with the bright moonlight and the flickering light that filled the city. He could only make out the shapes of the buildings, three stories and made from brick, and the twisting streets and alleyways. He thought he could see against the horizon the hulking mass of what looked like temples or a palace.

“Pretty big,” San said.

“It does not compare to the cities of your world,” the woman said.

“No, but its still pretty big,” San replied.

“It’s not the largest city on this world either,” the woman said. “There are five other cities that are more massive, the smallest being twice this size and was once ruled by the Empire. Votaro was not a great agricultural center, the alluvial plains along the coast have all been built over and over farmed. They were good at fighting wars, although.”

“Reminds me of an empire back home,” San said.

“Location, population, and organization are what make empires,” the woman said.

“Who are you and why am I here?” San asked.

“Lakovi Sorvania,” the woman said. “That’s my name. I was born in this city, it is my home and I wanted you to see it.”

“Is that all?” San asked.

“Of course not. I want you to see this city, a great city.”

“Ruled by a mad cult, I’m told.”

“Power grows and wanes in all worlds, Sanjay. Hesna’s cult is currently growing in power, but soon their time will wane and another cult will rise to power. That is the pattern of human belief. It all depends on one person to raise a faith from obscurity and place it above and ahead of all others.”

“A prophet?” San asked.

“Perhaps. A person of power and reach. People tend to follow those that proclaim their personal gods have given them boons and power, for they too hope to gain those boons and power.”

“It doesn’t sound like you have a favorable opinion on religion.”

“I do not.” The woman stated with finality. She continued looking out onto the city and San stood beside her, watching the city too.

Time moved along and San saw the moon move across the sky, false dawn formed on the horizon, bringing up the memory of the first night he had spent in this world so long ago. He didn’t feel as if he had been standing there for hours, time didn’t seem to be moving normally in this dream or plane.

“The world is beset by void horrors,” the woman said after the long silence. “Everyday, all across this world, the thin veil that separates this world from the monstrosities that live beyond it is pierced. Creatures come forth, lay waste, kill and destroy, and people must rise up to destroy them.”

“Adventurers,” San said.

“Yes, Adventurers. The Chosen of Corvanus, the Gifted, the Leveled.”

“There are many with Levels who aren’t Adventurers,” San said.

“All the gods lay their claim upon the Leveled,” the woman said.

San was silent for a moment. “Even me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What god has claimed me?” he asked.

“That is something I cannot tell you.”

“But you know who it is, right?”

“Yes.”

“And if I don’t want to be some god’s claimed pet?”

“Autonomy, it is a strange concept from your world,” the woman said. “Many of this world would love the idea of being claimed by a god, to have their boons and their power at their disposal. Only one from your world would dismiss the gods in such a manner, as if they were something that could be cast aside. As if you had a choice in the matter.”

San watched the woman, sensing an edge of bitterness to her voice.

“Who are you?”

“I have already told you that,” she replied.

“What god claimed you?”

She was silent as she looked over the city.

“A time will come, Sanjay,” she said. “A time when you will have to choose a god to watch over you. The world is waning and all of mankind will ebb with the tide.”

“What does that mean?”

The woman smiled at him, her face looking far younger than he thought she was. She didn’t seem more than a teenager, yet she the eyes that bore into him were those of an ancient being. Someone who had seen such horrors and sorrows, and also great joys and wonders.

“When I was a girl, this was barely a village,” She replied. “A few thousand farmers living on the edge of the world, fishing, farming, and growing families. They faced monsters from the forests, from the North, and they had to grow strong. They had to organize, they had to train their children to fight. They gained levels from the monsters, they became heroes. Then the gods noticed them and claimed them for their own.”

“You don’t look that old,” San replied.

The woman chuckled. “Thank you,” she said wryly.

“Are you a ghost or something?” San asked. “I was brought to a place by a person calling themselves the Stoneman, are you one such as him?”

“In a sense. We all served masters.”

“So you’re the agent, trying to headhunt me into your god’s embrace?”

“Careful, all of your worlds words do not translate into what I understand.”

“How do you do that anyway? Know about my world and what I’m talking about.”

“Your mind is an open book, Sanjay. What you know, I can also know.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Only knowledge, not your thoughts, feelings, or emotions. To know those, I must rely upon simple human understanding.”

“So what god wants me to do their bidding?” San asked.

“You have the heart of an Adventurer,” the woman said.

“So Corvanus?”

“Yes.”

“Corvanus is real? The gods here are real?”

“You doubted that?”

“Yeah. I understand there is magic, monsters, and souls, but actual gods… I didn’t really think they were a thing.”

“They are a… thing.”

“So you’re supposed to woo me into your god’s graces, what are you offering?”

“Boons and power, of course.”

“The Stoneman offered me a knife that would kill anything.”

“For the ebony gem, you shall gain such Power. No being shall be able to defeat you in combat. With such Power, you can save mankind on this world. You can push back the void horrors that try to break through into this world.”

“I don’t want to fight,” San said. “Is there a god of brewing? I’d think long and hard on their offer.”

The woman frowned and snorted.

“Plus, I’m not giving up the ebony gem,” San said. “The Stoneman wanted it and now you want it. It feels absolutely evil to me, but if the gods want it, then there’s something more to it.”

“We can just take it from you.”

“No you can’t, I think,” San said. “These are some weird fae rules or something. I have to give it to you willingly and it seems in a trade of some kind. What does the gem do?”

“Where did you gain the gem?”

San winced automatically at the thought, but then paused. He probed his memories and there was no pain associated with it. Everytime he tried to think on the night in the Old Kingdom Fortress, it felt as if someone was stabbing an icepick into his brain. He stared up to the brightening sky and thought back on that night.

“The creatures were trying to bring forth something horrible, some kind of monster or creature,” San said. His memory wasn’t perfect, but he saw the creature that writhed on the ground, the absolute horror that lay among the dead and blood soaked floor. “They sacrificed so many people to bring this monster into being.” San looked down at the woman, a bit of fear in his face. “She spoke to me about it…”

Winter’s Lament’s face looked up at him, framed by the billowing fires of the bonfire within the Fortress. Her eyes seemed to glow in the firelight as she held him, her ice cold hands on his heated skin.

“It gives shape to flesh, from sacrifices and blood. To bind a spirit to flesh, to bring it into the world we know,” San said softly. He looked at the woman. “You want it so that you can be reborn.”

The woman smiled.

“The gods are powerful,” the woman said. “But they cannot give flesh back to spirits and they cannot reincarnate us, even though they try. If my soul were to be borne back into flesh, I would not know what I know and I would begin as a blank slate in the world once more. That black gems you took from the Newborn will make things much easier for whoever gains it.”

San watched the woman’s face, she looked back out onto the city. He could almost see the emotion radiating off of her. “You don’t want to be reborn,” he said.

“I had my time and I did what I could for my people,” she said, still looking at the city. “I have had years to think upon my actions when I was alive. I was called a Hero, but I was only a murderer. I slayed monsters and gained wealth, but I also gave strength to a city that would go out and conqueror all those that stood against it. I would stand beside them, weilding my blade in loyalty to my city, my family, my tribe.”

“But wouldn’t Corvanus’ Hero do good in the world?” San asked.

The woman scoffed. “I could slay all the monsters from the Inland Sea to the Barren North and that would not be doing good in the world. It is not just killing monsters, Sanjay. It is building something that will last, something that will help the people, not just plunge them into thousands of years of war and conquest.”

“Why are you telling me this?” San asked. “If your god wants this gem, why are you telling me this?”

“Time does not follow the rules of the world in this place,” she said as the sun finally crested the horizon. In a brilliant flash, the light bathed everything and San could finally see the city before him.

There were still lights and torches burning, but what he had not seen in the darkness was the blood. The walls of the buildings, the streets, and the far off palace were drenched in blood. The remnants of some kind of battle or slaughter. The blood was cold and glassy, reflecting the rising sun in frozen pools and droplets.

“What happened?”

“All things ebb and flow,” the woman said. “In this place, the future is not set, but we can see it somewhat.”

“This will happen then?” San asked.

“All signs point to it, yes.”

“This is why you don’t want to be reborn?” San asked. The woman was silent. “What is going to happen? There is already a civil war in the Empire, will it come to a bloody conclusion?” San paused, staring at the city. No, that wasn’t right. She was Corvanus’ Hero. “Void Horrors.”

The woman didn’t say anything, instead still watching the city.

“An army of void horrors are going to descend on Voltaro?”

“Keep the gem, Sanjay,” the woman said, rising to her feet. San saw that she was far taller than he was, nearly seven feet tall. She easily hefted the massive sword. “You’ll know when to use it. I wish you the best. Keep your autonomy and do not bind yourself to anything that claims they are gods.”

With a leap, the woman jumped off the cliff and toward the city. San felt a wrenching of his soul and the image faded from view.

***

San opened his eyes to see Densa looking down at him. Her dark hair was disarrayed and she wore a worried expression. The morning sunlight gleamed off her ivory skin and her eyes seemed to flash in the sunlight.

“Good morning,” San said, wincing as his head throbbed.

“You’re okay,” Densa said. “Can you move your fingers and toes?”

“What?”

“Move your fingers and toes. You had a seizure,” she said.

San winced as he moved his limbs, they all seemed to function correctly. “A seizure?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“Mana drain,” she said. “You’ve been pushing your body too hard with mana usage. Yesterday with the operation and now today? Making some kind of potion? Draining all your mana can kill you, understand?”

San blinked and then nodded. “Yeah.” He looked at her as she sighed in relief and sat back, drawing her knees under her. “Does mana drain cause hallucinations?”

“In some cases. Although its more headaches, body aches, and sickness for days.”

“I have a headache, but not much of one.”

“You’re lucky then,” she replied. She frowned as she looked at him. “You’re a strange one.”

“I’ve been having headaches recently, nothing painful, just annoying. I’ve also been having nightmares and sometimes I think I’m still back home.” San blinked his eyes, staring at the ceiling of the warehouse. He saw that he was in one of the small rooms that he had slept in the night before. He could hear the stomping around of people and voices talking and cursing.

“Some of the old healers say that nightmares are caused by the soul being guilty about something,” Densa replied. “That’s all nonsense, of course.”

“You did a lot of work yesterday too,” San said. “Is your mana okay?”

“I’m fine, San. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know how to deal with it.”

San looked at Densa, realizing that he didn’t know much about her. She was the Head Healer of White Tower and the leader of the Senta Cult, although he didn’t know what that entailed. With Midwinter’s Reprieve only a day away, shouldn’t she be busy planning and preparing for the arrival of her own Cult’s representatives from Votaro?

“Aren’t you busy?” San asked.

Densa looked away, her eyes focusing on the wall instead of him. “Yes,” she said.

“Then why are you here?”

“Your apprentice, Azios, raced into the temple calling for a healer. I happened to be walking by when he arrived. No one has the name of San in this city, therefore I knew it was you. So I came to help.”

“Azios ran all the way to the temples?” San asked. He raised his head and tried looking for the young man, but didn’t see him.

“He’s downstairs, helping Pavano and the others with the plans on rebuilding this warehouse.” Densa turned to face him once again. “What you are doing is dangerous,” she said.

“What am I doing?” San asked.

She dug into a pocket of her robes and pulled out the plastic bag filled with the gems he had collected. These days the bag was heftier than it had ever been, containing many of the yellow gems he had taken from the white furred creatures, enough regular gems to gain him another Level, and, of course, the ebony gem that many wanted.

“I was told that if they were found on me, I’d be killed,” San said. Densa dropped the bag onto his stomach, looking at him sadly.

“Many would,” Densa said. “Many would see you dead for attempting what you are doing. There is a reason that the yellow gems are controlled so, why only the Cults use them.”

“What’s that reason?” San asked.

“They take a toll on your soul,” Densa said. “There is a price that needs paying when using the yellow gems. A piece of what you are and what you could become is exchanged for the Power to shape the world with potions and enchantments.”

San was silent, looking back at the ceiling once more. How many yellow gems had he used? He couldn’t really remember, maybe six, seven? What had he given up in return? San pondered the question, not knowing and not confident he could tell if he lost something important to him. A piece of his soul? San didn’t know how to quantify that.

“Oh,” he said after a long moment. “I wasn’t told that.”

“Who taught you how to use them?” Densa asked. Her voice was filled with worry and concern, not outrage or demanding he give her the stones. She really was a good person, but San also knew he couldn’t divulge that information.

“I learned about it from my homeland,” he finally said. “I guess my teacher didn’t tell me everything about them.”

Densa looked at him, seeing through his lies. She only nodded and looked back down at the plastic bag of gems. “I know the deal you made with the Barony; with Donsval. Courage, a drink that can push away fear. It is like a potion, right? There are few potion makers in the Barony, they are kept close and are far too important to allow free reign of their lives.”

“So I’m going to be a prisoner of the Baron?” San asked.

“If he thinks you’re important enough.”

“Maybe he’ll die from his wounds,” San said.

“I can’t allow that. For all the monster that he is, it is still a life that needs to be saved. That is my calling, San. That is what my god expects of me.”

“Not what you think you should do?” San asked.

“Killing and death are easy,” Densa said. “It is how fools deal with trouble. They kill it.”

“You’re no fool, Densa.”

The healer nodded at his words. She set a hand on the package of gems, wincing as she did so. “That black gem. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what it does, but you must get rid of it.”

San closed his eyes, waiting for her words.

“I can take it from you, dispose of it,” Densa said. “My Cult knows many ways to secure dangerous and evil things.”

“What will you trade for it?” San asked.

Densa reddened at his words. She ducked her head and took a slow breath. “You know?” she asked.

“I had a dream, I think. I met a woman who told me not to give up the gem. That it would be needed,” San said. “I know what it does and I think I might know how to use it.”

“At what price?” Densa asked.

“Blood and sacrifice,” San replied. “That’s how I found it, in the body of a monster being summoned.” San winced involuntarily, but the pain from remembering that night didn’t come again. He walked through the memories, now opened and able for him to see the creature that had been birthed into this world.

“You can’t keep it. You can’t own such power,” she said.

“Will you take it from me?” San asked. “Many have wanted it, but they didn’t seem able to just take it from me. They had to trade for it.”

“What do you want?” Densa asked. She leaned forward, looking down at him. There was a strange desperation in her eyes that made San ill and wary. “Anything you want, I will give you.”

San looked away, closing his eyes again. “Don’t,” he said.

“I am a woman,” Densa said, “I know the looks that men give me. I know that I am a decent beauty and I am not some shy maiden.”

San felt her hands on his chest and then a moment later, weight settled on it. She lay her head down on his chest, and wrapped an arms round his torso. The smell of flowers, incense, and the astringent smell of disinfectant wafted up to him. San felt himself shaking. How long had it been since he had been touched so? Mary would do the same thing, resting her head on his chest and wrapping him in her arms. In the early morning before he went to work or before she went running. They would lay there half asleep and whisper their love to one another.

“Stop,” San said.

“Do you know how I knew your name?” she asked. “It was written on your soul. So bright and so brilliant, like a raging fire. I saw it the first night we met, all that you are and all that you could be.” Densa buried her head into his chest, her voice muffled. “The gods have chosen you for something, Sanjay. They have brought you here for a reason. If you wish, I can be there beside you. I can lend you my strength and help you. We can be… together.”

“Stop it,” San said. He didn’t have the will to push her off of him. She lifted her head and then moved her body away from him. San felt her shift back into a sitting position, still looking down at him. “I can’t.”

“You are not the only one to lose someone, Sanjay. This world is filled with grief and pain, but we all must continue on. To give into it only leads to your destruction.”

“Maybe,” San said. “But I can’t let go. I can’t…”

Densa laced her own hands within his, lifting up is arm. She kissed the back of his hands and San winced as a warmth passed from her lips and into his skin. It seemed to grow and expand, filling his body and pushing out the cold of the room.

“I have not lied to you, Sanjay. What I offered you, I offer freely. I was tasked with obtaining that gem, but you may ask for anything and I will still hope you think on my proposal. I can help you; I will help you if you ask it of me.” Densa held his hand for a moment longer. She rose to her feet, releasing his hand, and picking up a satchel she had brought along with her. The plastic bag of gems still lay on his stomach, but she did not look at them. “I will be at the keep, if you are seeking me out. I shall be there.”

“Okay,” San said, his voice hoarse once more.

She left the room and San could hear her footsteps down the stairs. She spoke briefly with Pavano, their voices muffled and low and nearly drowned out by the workers. San stared at the ceiling, his hands wrapped around the bag of gems.

***

Pavano and Elgava were sitting on wooden stumps as San came down the stairs. Azios was doing something with the clay pots of yeast and looked up at him with concern as San reached them.

“You look like hell, lad,” Pavano stated.

“That priestess bring you back from the dead?” Elgava asked, giving him a wink.

San sat down on a free stump and stared into the fire. The workers had finally begun to work on the rooms, forcing San to either ignore their banging and shouting or exit the second floor.

“I’m fine,” San said. He looked to Azios who was peering into the copper pot they had brewed. “I need to finish what I was making.”

“Is that wise, lad?” Pavano asked. “Mana drain is a serious thing.”

“I’m fine,” San said again. He rose to his feet and joined Azios at the copper pot.

“Aye,” Pavano muttered, worry etched into his face.