know him?” he asked carefully, remembering the old wizard and his Crimson Elf friend.
“I have not seen him in centuries,” said the immortal, his face twitching oddly. “What a joyful reunion we shall have.”
There was silence for a long moment. Then, upon seeing Carym’s peculiar gaze he explained; “He is the man who dared enter Hades and took the Shadow stone from the Dark Lord’s Keep.”
Carym remembered the old man and had trouble connecting him with such an amazing feat, but he believed Mathonry nonetheless. He was awed to be so connected to these amazing heroes and felt insignificant in their presence.
“To Hades?”
“To Hades. As will you if your quest takes you there.”
Carym stared at the man blankly.
Mathonry let out a big sigh.
“Have you no faith, man? As surely as you see me standing here before you, and as surely as you have survived your encounters thus far, do you still question? Maybe the Great Father was wrong about you.” The man no longer seemed mocking or supercilious, instead he seemed genuinely disappointed. “Why should I have thought differently?”
Carym wasn’t lacking in faith at all. Why had he asked that? Finally it dawned on him as he stood there, staring at the man. It was his own worth in which he had no faith. Zuhr had given him the tools and the abilities he needed, yet he had not the faith in himself to use them.
“It was faith in myself that has been lacking.”
“Indeed, that is something you will always struggle with. Faith, ill-placed may fail you, but faith in yourself never will.”
Carym nodded in understanding. He was glad his companions had left the room, they would only barely be able to grasp what was happening. It didn’t concern them, though. They had not been privy to the internal struggle he had been waging these many long years, never mind these last few days. It was a journey he had made from within and, truth be told, it still seemed too surreal to be true. But, somehow, he knew that was part of the leap he must make.
“I am yours to command, sir.”
“Good.” Mathonry turned to the companions. “You should find adequate food stores of dried meats, cheeses, and jams in sealed containers along with carrying packs in that anteroom. The journey to the surface from this part of Uta Milla will be dangerous and take time.
“But first,” he continued, “we shall spend five days here in Dalcasia in preparation for this journey. There are more than troks to fear in the Underllars and I want you to become a cohesive fighting team; your mission depends on it!”
“Shouldn’t we be leaving? What if Umber’s minions beat us to the Everpool and destroy it?”
A shadow passed over the face of the immortal being. “That must not happen,” he whispered dangerously. “Yet as it stands now, Umber has no idea where to look. He has been hoping you would lead him there, or close enough for him to figure out where it is. We have time.”
“As for you, Carym, we are going to test what you’ve learned,” the man said with a sly expression.
The group had, at Mathonry’s direction, spent little time in the multidimensional chamber warning them there were dangers for mortals spending too much time away from the mortal plane of existence. Most of the training was done inside the temple and below it in secret passages. Only Carym’s Sigil training was conducted within the device, as Mathonry was unwilling to call the attention of the Trok-Syth to the Temple.
By the dawn of the fifth day of his training in the temple of the Great Father, Carym was thoroughly sore and exhausted. Mathonry was not a merciful teacher; he claimed that he always had trouble making himself observe that virtue. Mathonry believed in trial by fire. From the moment he taught Carym how to fight with the Flame Sigil, the two sparred relentlessly. Not only did Carym learn how to arm and defend himself with Sigil-wrought weapons and armor, he learned how to inflict pain; and
“I have not seen him in centuries,” said the immortal, his face twitching oddly. “What a joyful reunion we shall have.”
There was silence for a long moment. Then, upon seeing Carym’s peculiar gaze he explained; “He is the man who dared enter Hades and took the Shadow stone from the Dark Lord’s Keep.”
Carym remembered the old man and had trouble connecting him with such an amazing feat, but he believed Mathonry nonetheless. He was awed to be so connected to these amazing heroes and felt insignificant in their presence.
“To Hades?”
“To Hades. As will you if your quest takes you there.”
Carym stared at the man blankly.
Mathonry let out a big sigh.
“Have you no faith, man? As surely as you see me standing here before you, and as surely as you have survived your encounters thus far, do you still question? Maybe the Great Father was wrong about you.” The man no longer seemed mocking or supercilious, instead he seemed genuinely disappointed. “Why should I have thought differently?”
Carym wasn’t lacking in faith at all. Why had he asked that? Finally it dawned on him as he stood there, staring at the man. It was his own worth in which he had no faith. Zuhr had given him the tools and the abilities he needed, yet he had not the faith in himself to use them.
“It was faith in myself that has been lacking.”
“Indeed, that is something you will always struggle with. Faith, ill-placed may fail you, but faith in yourself never will.”
Carym nodded in understanding. He was glad his companions had left the room, they would only barely be able to grasp what was happening. It didn’t concern them, though. They had not been privy to the internal struggle he had been waging these many long years, never mind these last few days. It was a journey he had made from within and, truth be told, it still seemed too surreal to be true. But, somehow, he knew that was part of the leap he must make.
“I am yours to command, sir.”
“Good.” Mathonry turned to the companions. “You should find adequate food stores of dried meats, cheeses, and jams in sealed containers along with carrying packs in that anteroom. The journey to the surface from this part of Uta Milla will be dangerous and take time.
“But first,” he continued, “we shall spend five days here in Dalcasia in preparation for this journey. There are more than troks to fear in the Underllars and I want you to become a cohesive fighting team; your mission depends on it!”
“Shouldn’t we be leaving? What if Umber’s minions beat us to the Everpool and destroy it?”
A shadow passed over the face of the immortal being. “That must not happen,” he whispered dangerously. “Yet as it stands now, Umber has no idea where to look. He has been hoping you would lead him there, or close enough for him to figure out where it is. We have time.”
“As for you, Carym, we are going to test what you’ve learned,” the man said with a sly expression.
The group had, at Mathonry’s direction, spent little time in the multidimensional chamber warning them there were dangers for mortals spending too much time away from the mortal plane of existence. Most of the training was done inside the temple and below it in secret passages. Only Carym’s Sigil training was conducted within the device, as Mathonry was unwilling to call the attention of the Trok-Syth to the Temple.
By the dawn of the fifth day of his training in the temple of the Great Father, Carym was thoroughly sore and exhausted. Mathonry was not a merciful teacher; he claimed that he always had trouble making himself observe that virtue. Mathonry believed in trial by fire. From the moment he taught Carym how to fight with the Flame Sigil, the two sparred relentlessly. Not only did Carym learn how to arm and defend himself with Sigil-wrought weapons and armor, he learned how to inflict pain; and
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