With the solar elf as his new captive and guide, Vance was almost ready to venture into the underground labyrinth. There was only one last thing to do before he left the burial chamber.

“Pick up the pace, Kaz,” Vance said. “We don’t have all day.”

“It’s King Solario,” the elf retorted.

“Kaz! Kaz! Kaz!” Timathor chanted. “Ow-gnedcha-Kaz! Baikahj!”

As Vance and Timathor watched from a short distance, Solario was carrying the corpses of the adventurers and constructing a morbid mound under the overhanging machine—the Mana-powered Kogelstein resurrector. The manual labor was rather taxing, almost back-breaking, but there was no escape from it, especially with the spectral dagger so close and menacing. When the solar elf was finally done, he looked down at seven cadavers stacked up in a symmetrical arrangement, like the logs of a bonfire.

“Kogelstein was my weakest invention. Can you imagine that?” Solario said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Look at this massacre, human. It’s no mere fabrication—no self-serving fancy—to say that elven intelligence is unrivaled.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Vance chuckled. “Now that you’re done, it’s time to bring down that chandelier.” He pointed with his spectral dagger at the ceiling. “Take one of the swords and break the chains that keep it up.”

“Why do you want me to destroy the resurrector?” Solario said, with a look of pure confusion. “It doesn’t work anymore. The orbs and pipes are shattered. Even the detectors are misaligned.”

“Do as you’re told,” Vance said, “and stop asking questions.”

Unable to rebel against even the most irrational wishes, Solario picked up a sword and started hammering the chains that kept the machine suspended in the air. After the twelfth strike, it plummeted onto the pile of bodies and rested atop them like a crown.

“Baikahj!” Timathor shouted angrily. “Enami! Enami!”

But Vance ignored these shouts and said to Solario, “Throw the sword away.”

Solario dropped it on the ground.

“Now light a torch and set fire to the bodies.”

Vance gave Solario a flint-and-steel lighter, and in a matter of seconds, the corpses were burning into ashes and producing a blinding curtain of smoke, which rose high and seeped into cracks in the chamber’s ceiling. After he got back his lighter, Vance picked up Kogelstein’s core and cast it into the flames.

“You can’t destroy the core that way,” Solario said.

“Really?” Vance scoffed. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“If you promise to treat me better, I can tell you how you can. We solar elves have always traded in information. My dignity in exchange for Kogelstein. It sounds like a fair deal, considering how many human lives it has claimed.”

“Not interested,” Vance said curtly. Then, before the solar elf could bargain even more, he added, “Shut it and come here, Kaz. It’s time to leave.”

“It’s King Solario!” the elf retorted in anger. “I can’t tolerate your—”

“Move it,” Vance snapped.

Carrying a flickering torch, Solario descended the stairway from which he had appeared in the beginning, and Vance followed closely behind him. The two seemed to have embarked on a long, risky journey—into the treacherous labyrinth and toward the light of day—but after a few seconds, Vance ordered Solario to stop and turn back; he had realized that Timathor was missing. The little goblin had stayed behind. And when he returned to the burial chamber, he found it on its knees in front of the burning corpses. It was weeping at the loss of so much food, driven by its overbearing instincts into unneeded despair.

Timathor still has the same obsession with hoarding. Vance sighed. He had been trying to make the goblin dissociate food from corpses, but he had achieved no documentable success so far. The little rascal is a fast learner, but it can’t lose a habit once it’s learned it. Kinda reminds me of some humans. He opened his bag and retrieved a piece of cooked beef from inside white wrappings. I shouldn’t give up too early, though. It takes a lot of time to change, especially when it comes to something you learned as a child.

“Timathor,” Vance called.

The goblin turned around with a dejected look on its face, but then it noticed the cooked beef in Vance’s hand. Although it couldn’t smell the appetizing scent from the smoke, it could still imagine the juiciness inside its head, and this imaginary stimulus was more captivating and arousing than anything real. It rose to its feet and rushed toward the food with a sniffling nose and a salivating mouth. Vance tossed the beef on the ground, and it sntached it and began to chew with delight.

“Tell me, human,” Solario said, as he watched the goblin eat, “when did your kind tame the Miresian dwarves? Do they serve as your slaves?”

“Miresian dwarves? You mean goblins?”

“Is that what you call them now? Goblins?” Solario sneered, as if at someone of inferior standing and intelligence. “I see you’re trying to wipe their identity the same way you tried to wipe ours. You humans never change.”

“Are you saying that goblins aren’t monsters?” Vance said in surprise.

“I fail to understand what you mean by ‘monsters.’ Your ‘goblin’ may indeed be a ‘monster’ in a vague sense,” Solario said, with an empty smile. “But if you want me to teach you about the true identity of the Miresian dwarves, I suggest a fair deal. In exchange for the information, you will not make me fight any of the slimes we encounter in the labyrinth.”

Timathor needs the EXP anyway, and it’ll be interesting to hear what this elf has to say about goblins. So I guess the deal works fine for me. Without much further consideration, convinced that he had nothing to lose, Vance said, “I accept. You don’t need to fight for me in the labyrinth.”

“I’m happy you’re becoming open to my offers,” Solario smiled, holding his hands together at his chest. “Before I start, I assume even you are aware of the basics. As a schoolboy, you must’ve learned, for example, that dwarves live in independent, self-sufficient settlements called forges. Is this the case, human?”

“Yes, it’s the case, elf. Get to the point.”

“In the Third Age of Mighty Helios, roughly 700 years before my birth, there existed a forge by the name of Haemal Hall. Its location was a secret, and it was worked by the best smiths among the dwarves—a chosen elite, if you will, numbering somewhere between 10,000 and 25,000.”

“And this forge is related to goblins?” Vance interrupted.

“Patience, human,” Solario said. “You need context.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“In their distant hideaway, the dwarves produced weapons made of Haemal Steel. A material like no other, it absorbed the blood of its victims and became sturdier with every drop. In the right hands, Haemal Weapons could develop the strength of diamond and cut as the light of Helios cuts through the shroud of night … You must know about them, even if only from legend.”

“Never heard of them,” Vance said.

“Another proof of how self-centered you humans are.”

“Stop blabbering, and carry on.”

“You censor history out of pure narcissism.”

Vance raised his spectral dagger as a threat before he repeated, “Carry on.”

“T-T-The d-dwarves could have made a fortune by selling H-Haemal Weapons to the right buyers, but they k-kept the material to themselves.” Solario cleared his throat and regained his composure. “The rule was simple: only the dwarves of Haemal Hall were allowed to carry Haemal Weapons. And this gave them political and diplomatic leverage. Whenever a war broke, they would demand constant payments from the warring sides in exchange for complete neutrality. After a missed payment, they would march to battle and destroy the defaulters with their superior weapons.”

“So they were mercenaries who played both sides,” Vance said.

“Yes, and their shifting allegiances angered the other races, especially the highlanders, who lost a winnable war against the lunar elves only because of dwarven intervention.”

“Let me guess. The highlanders bayed for blood.”

“You’re right, human, but you couldn’t guess how they exacted revenge on Haemal Hall,” Solario said smugly. “The defeated highlanders visited Geblene, the Lord of the Mire, and cursed their own infants. They made the wretched four-armed babies drink from Geblene’s swamp. Then they offered them to the dwarves of Haemal Hall as a luxurious meal.”

“As a meal? The infants?”

“Disturbing, isn’t it? The dwarves of Haemal Hall relished all kinds of exotic meats. Elf, human, highlander, dragon, snake, wolf—it didn’t matter whether you had an intellect. You were always on their menu.”

“And the dwarves didn’t suspect something was fishy?” Vance looked slightly puzzled. “Did they never question why the highlanders were offering their own children as food?”

“The circumstances didn’t leave room for such suspicions,” Solario said.

“What circumstances?”

“You see, the highlanders didn’t simply offer their children without reason. They created a scenario where it seemed that they were acting out of despair: they started another fierce war with the lunar elves and defaulted on another payment to the dwarves. Only this time, however, they offered their children as a substitute for the missed payment. They gave their infants to the dwarves and told them to stay out of the conflict, and the dwarves were happy to accept.”

“This is messed up.”

“You humans have done worse. The highlanders wanted victory and revenge, and they made a sacrifice equal in proportion,” Solario said, with hardly any emotional investment. “When the dwarves of Haemal Hall ate the meat of the cursed infants, their white skin turned green like the water of swamps; their muscles atrophied; their minds became duller. They could no longer carry their heavy weapons or work with their hammers. They abandoned Haemal Hall and scattered across the land, adopting primitive ways to survive. By the time I was born, they had become known as the Miresian dwarves—the base, uncivilized enemies of all the other races.”

“And what happened to Haemal Hall itself?” Vance said.

“Quite perceptive of you to ask,” Solario smiled. “This information requires another fair deal. If you want to know, you will allow me to carry a sword while we’re inside the labyrinth. For self-defense, of course, in case a slime slipped past you and your … goblin.”

He can’t do much with a sword, anyway. Vance said, “I accept.”

Solario picked up the sword that he had dropped a while ago and sheathed it into his scabbard. The weapon seemed to make him feel much more confident than before, although it seemed that he had never used its kind.

“So what happened to the forge?”

“What?” Solario looked at Vance again. “Oh, right, the ill-fated Haemal Hall. I don’t remember exactly. I think it was destroyed by the angry highlanders, but maybe a bit of time will refresh my memory.”

“Training our Duplicity, are we?” Vance waved his spectral dagger. It slashed across Solario’s chest, leaving a dark-green trail and erasing a third of his HP.

“You could’ve killed me with that!” Solario placed a hand on his chest, bent forward weakly, and grimaced in pain. “Did you forget … that you still need me to get out of here?”

“A liar isn’t worth a shit to me. What happened to the forge, Kaz?”

“It’s King Solario! Address me with my name and regal title!”

“What happened to Haemal Hall?” Vance punched Solario in the chest, right where the spectral dagger had slashed. “Answer.”

Solario fell to his knees. It seemed that he was in excruciating pain, but he gathered his strength and said, “No one found it after it was abandoned.”

“And the Haemal Weapons?”

“Never appeared on a battlefield again.”

Vance pulled Solario’s hair, forcing him to look up, and said, “But you know more than that, don’t you?”

“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with the forge? It could’ve been razed to the ground or buried under bedrock. It’s history.”

“You say that, but you’re hiding something.”

“I …”

“What did you keep out of our ‘fair deal’?”

“Kill me if you want,” Solario said, with a gesture of total submission—arms spread as if on an invisible cross. “But I will never divulge a secret that can further your interests, human. My lips are sealed with wax.”

“Really?” Vance laughed. “You’ve been awfully talkative for someone who doesn’t want to further my interests. I asked a question about goblins, but you gave me an essay on dwarven history. And do you wanna know how many times you repeated Haemal Hall and Haemal Weapons? Haemal, Haemal, Haemal.”

“I will not give in to your—”

“You said it yourself. You solar elves trade in information. And you want me to be your buyer. That’s been your aim all along, right? Your life in exchange for info about the weapons.”

Solario grew quiet.

“Right now, you’re just trying to gain the upper hand. You think I’m all bark and no bite, and you want to skew the deal in your favor. But that won’t work on me.” Vance banished the spectral dagger and drew the steel one. He started carving a V under Solario’s left eye. “I’ll start with an eye.” The V turned into a tick mark as the steel dagger approached Solario’s eye. “Then I’ll take a finger. Then I’ll take an arm. Then I’ll give my goblin a few samples of your thighs.”

“Stop! Stop!” Solario pleaded. “You’re right! I got greedy!”

“I’m willing to spare your life.”

“That’s all I want! Spare my life, and I’ll—”

“But I can’t confirm that the information you’ll give me is true,” Vance said, still carving Solario’s face. “Can you resolve this unfortunate impasse?”

“I can! I can!” Solario said. “Have you heard of the Heliacal Oath?”

***

The Harvestorium was a small room where Solario had his throne and where a sophisticated network of Mana-carrying pipes ended. Twenty years ago, the Federal Guild and the Society for the Preservation of Antiquities had launched a monumental expedition, challenged the convoluted elven traps, and uncovered King Solario’s golden coffin. But the truth was that this coffin and the mummy inside it were fake. It was here in this cramped Harvestorium, near Kogelstein’s chamber and away from any treasure, that King Solario dwelled—half-alive, half-desiccated. It was here that he collected Mana for his return. And it was here that he realized that the supply was finally cut and activated the lever that opened the hidden passage, announcing his return to the world beneath the sun—the Heliacal Domain, as the solar elves called it.

Vance and Timathor walked through the Harvestorium and headed down a long corridor toward the Solar Sanctum. They were following Solario, who was only a couple of steps ahead and carried the torch lighting the way. The solar elf couldn’t stray more than these two steps, because he couldn’t win the full trust of his captor. Vance had heard a brief explanation of what the Heliacal Oath was, and he had agreed that they should head to the sanctum to resolve the present impasse. But nothing precluded an escape attempt: he was sure that the solar elf could make a run for it at any moment, and it would be difficult to chase after him because no one knew the labyrinth better.

“There are Water Slimes ahead,” Solario said. “I hope they ruin your face just as you ruined mine.”

“Shut up and step back,” Vance said. When the elf was standing beside him, he turned to Timathor and ordered, “Charge!”

Timathor raised its spear and dagger. Then it charged at the lurking slimes and disappeared into the murk. Vance grabbed Solario’s arm and walked with him closer to the ongoing battle. In the light of the torch, the human and the elf saw the little goblin evade the acidic attacks of the slimes. The water that the slimes spit created bubbling puddles on the ground, but even these corrosive foot traps failed to put Tiamthor in any real trouble. After several evasions, the goblin took a brave step forward and thrust its spear into the jelly-like body of a slime. When it emerged from the other side, the spear had a fruit-like circular object stuck on its tip—it was the slime’s nucleus.

That’s one down. Vance smiled. The little rascal has improved its aim.

In the next moment, another slime jumped high and performed the limbless equivalent of a body press. Before it could submerge Timathor in its acidic body, however, the little goblin rolled forward and escaped to relative safety. Then it turned around and slashed twice with its dagger, splashing away parts of the slime before it finally thrust its spear and destroyed the nucleus. The second enemy was defeated with only a few light burns as the price. Victorious and confident, Timathor growled and drummed on its belly. Then it chased after the rest of the slimes, which had already started to retreat.

“The Miresians were once stocky, bull-necked soldiers,” Solario said. “It still amazes me to see how supple they’ve become after the curse.”

“Timathor is a fast one,” Vance admitted.

“Indeed. At this rate, we will reach the Solar Sanctum in little to no time.” Solario tried to take a step forward. “I can already see its shine.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Vance said, clenching the elf’s arm and forcing him to stop. “You’ll walk only when I give you permission.”

“Of course, human. Of course.”

But Solario was right. The group of three advanced at a lightning pace, and Timathor defeated one slippery horde of slimes after the other. The corridors were mainly infested with Earth Slimes and Water Slimes. The first didn’t pose much of a threat, but there was a variation of the second type that proved to be quite the challenge—the alkaline subgroup of Water Slimes. This rarer type was almost suited for chemical warfare. Its body was so alkaline that it caused burns that were much more severe than anything an acidic slime could cause. And it was only when this type appeared that Vance had to join the battle.

Holding Solario’s arm at all times, as if they had been shackled together with invisible fetters, he would dash forward and brandish his spectral dagger at the alkaline slimes. Although it never hit the nuclei directly, the spectral dagger left dark-green marks all over the bodies of the slimes, and when enough of these marks accumulated, a slime would stop moving and disintegrate into a puddle, as if it had given up on life. This way, Vance ensured that Timathor didn’t suffer from any severe burns. And it was only for the sake of his little goblin that he endured the spam of system messages, which all repeated the same pointless sentence:

Battle Result You gained a reduced 0 EXP.

It was more than enough for Vance, however, that Timathor was progressing in its levels. After hours of repeated skirmishes, it had defeated tens of slimes and reached level 18. Then the door to the Solar Sanctum appeared in front of the group, and it was time to take a break from the continuous fighting. To keep Timathor from running off and engaging more slimes, Vance threw it another juicy piece of cooked beef. No distraction was more potent. The small meal guaranteed that Timathor would stay still until the adults had their talk and finished their dealings.

“The door to the sanctum has an optical lock,” Solario said.

Vance looked at this door in the torchlight. It resembled a memorial stone tablet, with several drawings of the sun and cursive writings in elvenform—the alphabet of the elves. But there were also seven dusty mirrors, which were fixed to the stone with central rods, in a clever way that allowed for stable rotation.

“Do you want to give it a try?” Solario continued. “See if you can open it.”

Vance stared at him in doubt.

“There aren’t any traps. The lock is difficult on its own.”

Vance didn’t drop his incredulous stare.

“Fine, human, I’ll open it.” Solario approached the door. “I can’t blame you for mistrusting our superior technology. ‘Time seldom lengthens men’s ears,’ as my grandfather used to say.”

“It’s you I’m mistrusting,” Vance said. “Not the technology.”

“The technology and I are one,” Solario said, “for I am the inventor.” Then he spit on one of the door’s mirrors and began to clean it with his sleeve.

“Right now, you’re more janitor than inventor. What are you doing?”

“We need these special mirrors to be reflective again.”

“Are they part of the lock?”

“Yes, a beam of sunlight is set to fall on the highest one, and to open the door, you have to manipulate the frequency of the incident ray. In other words, you need to spin the mirrors and produce the correct rotational speeds, within a tolerant margin of error, of course.”

“Get it over with, then,” Vance said.

“Patience, human. Patience.” Solario finished cleaning the mirrors. Then he spun them with his hands, and as they began to revolve, a beam of sunlight bounced among them. “The door opens after the photodetector registers the correct frequency for 5 seconds.” He left some of the rotating mirrors to slow down, but gave others a second spin. “You need years of practice to do this right.” He gave some mirrors a third spin. “It opens in 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1.”

There was a loud click. The circular mirrors stopped spinning and returned to their original position. Then the stone door receded a few millimeters and began to retreat down into the earth. It revealed a square room constructed of nothing but the purest gold. The four walls, the floor, the ceiling, the altar in its center—everything was smelted and cast from the same bedazzling substance. Converted to coins, this treasure trove could destroy the economies of entire nations, but to leave with a single gram of it was to consign yourself to the godly curse of Helios, which killed exactly 4 months and 44 hours after the crime.

“Embrace the sun, human.”

Solario stepped into the sanctum, and Vance followed.

Status Alert

Bane Added: Heliacal Oath

Inside the Solar Sanctum, your Duplicity drops to zero.

Any attempts to deceive or lie in the presence of the god Helios will fail miserably, for there is no shadow in the embrace of the sun.

“This is where we ordained our philosophers and where we sold information to ambassadors,” Solario said, waving his arm at the resplendent walls. “Do you believe me now? Are you finally convinced that we can consummate our deal in the presence of Mighty Helios?”

“No lies in this room, huh?” Vance said, looking at the cryptic writings on the walls. “And that applies to everyone, not just me?”

“Yes, if you still have doubts, chant, ‘Who bathes in the soul-cleansing light?’ And hear the answer for yourself.”

Who bathes in the soul-cleansing light?

Heliacal Communion Vance Wolfe and King Solario of Nekhen are bound by the Heliacal Oath.

“Inside this sacred room, we’re more honest than anyone would want to be,” Solario said. Then he stopped near a wall and started moving something with his hand. He was rearranging the carved elvenform letters, and when they all clicked into the right position, a hidden safe opened up and revealed a stash of items. There were staves, robes, gemstones, silver ingots, grimoires, and potion bottles—but Solario moved his hand past them all and reached for a black box. He took it out of the safe and placed it on the altar. “I can see the curiosity on your face,” he sneered. “Do you want to know what’s inside this box, human?”