The Journey Beyond: Artuck

As Artuck turned to leave what was once Himrol's home, a flash of movement to his right caught his eye, and turning in that direction, he saw Christol running towards them, arms flailing and with a smile upon his face. As Artuck looked closer at Christol, he saw blood splattered upon his tunic, and his hands were covered in it.

At least it's not his own. That'd be another problem. I'm still not sure how I resurrected Meila, So if it was his blood, I'm not sure I can resurrect him either, especially since I failed to bring Himrol back.

Flim suddenly sprinted towards his brother, and took him into a caring hug. Despite the two of them being about one hundred feet out, Artuck could still hear the two of them as Flim began to cry. Artuck smiled as he watched their embrace, happy for their uniting, despite a twinge of jealousy panging his heart. 

After a long moment, the two of them walked back to the rest of the group. As they approached, Mitrax pulled out a small vial of red liquid from his bag and offered it to Christol. Cruu grabbed Christol's hands and looked at them before looking at his tunic.

"Christol! Are you okay?" Cruu asked, a look of fear upon his face. Christol simply nodded to Cruu as he refused the vial from Mitrax, who shrugged, and put it away.

"We haven't met yet, but I'm Meila. This is- was my home. Now I guess wherever you guys go will be my home, since I doubt I'll be accepted anywhere else," Meila said sheepishly. Christol extended his hand for a handshake, but Meila just pulled him into a hug.

"I was wondering when I'd get to meet you! Artuck and Christol spoke of you as though you were the savior of the world!"

Christol felt his face get hot, and he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment as he gave a tiny smile.

"As nice as this is," Mitrax interrupted, "we should probably get out of this city before we succumb to the flames as well. I'm actually surprised we haven't already. Then, we can celebrate Christol's return and grieve the loss of our friend and city."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the now reunited group walked through the city, the ashes of which were still burning. At this point, only the sound of the fire could be heard, as if the cries and screams of the townsfolk had fallen silent.

As they exited through the very gates they had entered through, they noticed that even the guards had burned, their blackened bodies still upright, though their weapons lay on the ground.

"Do you guys think anyone survived?" Cruu asked nervously, as though he already knew the answer to the question.

Artuck sighed and shook his head, and a solemn feeling descended upon them.

"Probably not. Even if there were some survivors, it's a long way back to civilized society. Let's just hope we don't run into the same sort of trouble they probably will."

A long moment of silence followed, and Flim was the first to break it.

"At least we have Christol back! We had been looking for him for a while, and here he is!"

That is true, but what was that blood?

"Christol," Artuck inquired, "what are those blood stains from? We didn't question it at the moment but I believe now is as good a time as any to hear what happened."

Artuck looked to Christol, and he watched as Christol's face suddenly saddened, and it was a look Artuck recognized. It was a look of shame, and guilt, perhaps even regret. He watched as Christol's eyes darted to and fro, before he sighed and slowly blinked. Avoiding everyone else's gaze, he spoke.

"I-I killed someone. Not by coincidence, or by assisting someone else, but with full intention to kill. Malrik is dead."

Silence followed. The entire group stopped walking, and turned to look at Christol.

How did he kill him? He was known as the Unkillable for a reason. No enemy had been able to stop him before, and he had never lost a battle. And I know Christol hasn't had much of any practice with sword fighting, so just how did he do it?

"So, uh, how'd you do it? How'd you kill the bastard?"

Mitrax's question sounded hesitant, as if expecting the worst, or some terrible, gruesome response. Cruu looked up to Christol, patiently waiting for the response.

"I'm honestly not too sure. He was attempting to strike me down, but my body moved on its own, and blocked and parried his every attack. He became increasingly frustrated, until he was fighting me with all three of his blades."

All three?! Malrik only does that when he faces his toughest opponents. In the time I knew him, only four people had ever crossed all three of his blades. Christol must've been doing a hell of a job.

"Soon, I had managed to knock away one of his blades, as did he. He reared up for a final swing, and I'd accepted my demise, when time froze again. Seeing my impending doom, as well as that egotistical prick's face, I grabbed the sword he was going to kill me with, and suddenly I wanted to kill him. To free us of our torment, and to help the people. And so I did. As time began again, I stabbed him through the side with his blade, and he fell to the ground before he was consumed by the fire. I left the blade. It felt… unnatural."

Artuck nodded, accepting the information he was given.

Well, I guess it does make sense. Malrik would have never expected one like Christol to suddenly pause time. Also, I doubt Malrik had any time at all to react before the blade was in him.

Christol continued to speak, this time, with a bit more happiness in his voice.

"Oh yeah! I met a traveling merchant, by the name of Laurum Holzboddel. He told of a weapon of divine power, and he told me it will be strong enough to destroy even Haldore. He said we'd need two amulets, an orb, a staff, and two daggers, like this one, but the other one is red."

Christol displayed a small, blue dagger. Just looking at it made Artuck feel cold. Artuck reached into his bag and pulled out the red dagger, which was still just as hot to the touch as it was when he first grabbed it. As Artuck presented the dagger to Christol, Mitrax pulled out the orb he had been holding onto.

"So, it looks like we have three of the six already," Christol said, traces of hope in his voice.

"We only need three more. The amulets, and the staff. Laurum said the dragonborns should have it."

The dragonborns? If it's what I think it is, they're not going to let go of it so easily. May even kill us just for mentioning our need for it. I hope Mitrax will be able to help us when we arrive.

Heavy breathing suddenly snapped Artuck back to reality. Standing in front of the group was a small dwarf. Stocky build, brown locks rolling down his back, and a thick beard to compliment his size. He wore no armor, but instead a light tunic, and a sealed letter rested in his hand, a purple wax seal enclosing the contents. He wheezed and sighed as he attempted to catch his breath. Before long, he looked up at the group again, his breathing returning to a point to where he could speak again.

"Do you all know of a Mitrax Zorlasar, perchance? I have a letter here for a Mitrax. I was told that he would be here on this day, but I had no idea the city would be in flames! What happened here?"

Mitrax spoke as he stepped forward to accept the letter.

"I'm Mitrax. And as for what happened here, there's only one word. Or a person, I guess. Haldore."

The dwarf rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath.

"Of course it was. Doesn't play fair, does he?"

Mitrax shook his head.

"No, no he doesn't. The letter?"

"Oh, right! Here you are. Good day to you all. I personally would suggest you all head to Calke. There, you'll be able to rest up before heading out again. Clearly, though, after what happened in Scolt and now here, I expect Calke will be next on the 'burning down' list. Well, see you there!"

With that, the dwarf turned on his heel and walked off back into the forest, whistling all the while.

Mitrax looked at the letter before opening it. He pulled out the paper within and began to read it aloud.

"Dear Mitrax, Artuck, and company, we would like to cordially invite you to a meeting with the King of the Dragonborns, King Yaldr. Please arrive as promptly as possible, as these matters are of the utmost urgency. We recognize your purpose, and the quest you all are taking, and we would like to offer assistance where we can. More will be spoken of upon your arrival. As a side note for Mitrax, I look forward to seeing you again, my son. Signed, Thaxeak Zorlasar. Fuck."

"Is he your father?" 

Flim asked innocently. Without answering, Mitrax slowly looked in Flim's direction with a look of pure, unbridled rage. After a solid moment, Mitrax responded to the question.

"No, he's just a dude that decided abuse was the way to raise a child. YES HE'S MY FUCKING FATHER."

Flim could see a bit of flame beginning to rise from the back of his throat. Artuck took a step forward, getting between Flim and Mitrax, and he extended his arms, as though he were protecting Flim.

"Well, at least now we know where to go from here. To the dragonborn isles, to retrieve the staff, hopefully, and figure out the meaning behind this message. We'll deal with your father when we arrive, Mitrax. Don't dwell on it. But first, let's head to Calke for some much deserved rest. We're gonna need it after everything that's happened today."

Everyone agreed with Artuck's statement, and they began to walk away, now with a new goal in mind.

This is not over, father. Far from it. You may have killed Himrol, but we took something from you as well. And the next time you see us, we'll be ready for you.