CHAPTER 46

For a good while, I cannot see. The light is too bright. I blink away the shadows, but my eyes can’t remain open for more than an instant. I panic. Is this another part of the Challenge? Has it started? I turn in place with my good hand in front of me, trying to gauge if danger is on the way.

“Rue, can you—” I stop. I can’t feel Rue’s buzzing on my shoulder. He’s not there.

He didn’t cross.

It’s that fear that finally forces my eyes open against the light. I find myself in place larger than any so far, taller than it is wide and longer than either. Light comes in through great many-colored stained-glass windows with designs both intricate and beautiful. At the very end of the room, there is a large statue surrounded by a multitude of candles.

Everywhere there is quiet. While I observe the sunlight filtering in from outside, barely believing I’m seeing it, I realize my pain and the exhaustion are gone. The fog in my mind has lifted, and the thousand scrapes, bruises, and cuts don’t impede my movements. My injured hand looks just as ugly as before, but the constant, throbbing pain is no more. I pull the cloth from my mouth to breathe in and realize that, even though I’ve only been here a few moments, and for the first time in a long, long while, I feel at peace.

“Welcome,” says a voice behind me.

I turn quickly to see a short woman, young and lithe, dressed in tattered grey. Her hair is down, hanging level with her chin, and her feet are bare in the cold stone. Most incongruous of all, her eyes are hidden behind a deep red blindfold. She’s smiling, her face turned in my direction, while rubbing something between her hands. The low, pleased buzzing warms my heart and breaks through the remains of my anxiety.

“Rue!”

“We did it, Malco,” he buzzes contentedly. “We’re out!”

“I…” I look at the woman hesitantly. Is this another Godtouched trap?

“You don’t need to worry,” the woman says, as if she read my thoughts. “You two have done quite enough to reach this place. Your trials are over, for now.”

Her voice is calming and serene. I want to believe her, but something in me, a kernel of worry and plotting amidst all the quiet and peace, rebels against the notion of trust. When I fail to answer, the woman raises an eyebrow in an exquisite arch above the line of the blindfold.

“You’re a suspicious one, aren’t you?”

“I think trust is naturally slow to build, lady,” I answer.

“Yes. A depressingly common theme among those who make their way to me. Your friend trusts me. Don’t you Rue?”

Rue’s purring is more than enough an answer.

“…but I’m starting to think even his vouching isn’t going to be enough. Very well, then.” She takes a step back and straightens to her full height. In a crisp, regal tone, she intones: “Let the Challenge commence!”

“Wait—”

“Ah?” The eyebrow goes up again, quick as a fish.

“I mean, I don’t want—” I flounder.

“Don’t want the Challenge to go on? But I thought we’d agreed you were in it still.”

I hesitate. The way she looks at me without looking makes me nervous, but it’s a nervousness I recognize from long ago. It reminds me of when me and Katha engaged in verbal spats that she always won.

“Look,” I say. “Can you swear, on your honor, that this is not a trick? That I’m not being… judged?”

“We’re all being judged, Malco,” she answers, suddenly serious. “All the time. But I understand your meaning, and yes, I declare it on my honor: there are no more tests. You’ve passed your first Dungeon Challenge.”

For some reason, maybe because I choose to, I believe her. I smother my suspicions, drown them out with relief.

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Arbiter.”

“Like someone who judges?” I ask pointedly.

She shakes her head with amusement.

“No. More like a referee. I like things to be fair.”

“All right. Arbiter,” I try out the word. As a name, it’s strange. “And what are you?”

Arbiter walks closer to me. Rue’s buzzing grows louder, enveloping us in a humming cocoon.

“I just told you. Here,” she holds him out to me. “I think he’d rather be with his friend. Walk with me, Malco.”

I just observe Arbiter as she brushes past me. The fabric of her red blindfold falls down the length of her back like a line of blood, and on each side of it her tattered greys seem to drag like wings.

“I suppose you want to know about your reward.”

Placing Rue on my shoulder, I hurry after her and down the length of the room, towards the big statue at its end. It represents a woman crouched, her hand extended, palm up, towards her supplicants.

“Hum, reward?”

“You didn’t forget, I hope? Levels, riches, power. Isn’t that why you came here?”

“Oh.”

I suppose that in a sense I had forgotten about the chance of winning a level. In another, much more precise definition, however, of course I hadn’t. It had just become a secondary worry when compared to Katha and Rev.

“That’s not what I want anymore.”

She turns to me, frankly surprised.

“I want Katha and Rev back. That’s it. That’s what I want my reward to be.”

Arbiter’s expression turns to puzzlement, and then sorrow. With each twist of the lines of her face my hopes grow dimmer and dimmer.

“Malco, that’s not how it works,” Arbiter says, her voice heavy with sadness. “I don’t grant wishes. Fairness, remember: you passed the first test and did admirably better than the overwhelming majority. Your reward will be suitable, but not limitless.”

“Doesn’t it matter that that’s the reason I did all this for?”

“Intentions and actions have always been worlds apart. Unfortunately, only one of the two can be rewarded.”

We walk on in silence. My hopes of bringing Katha home have been dashed, but it’s not the first time that has happened. I swallow my disappointment and look to the future. Suddenly, there’s a lot more of it than just a few short minutes ago.

“Do you know what happened to Reva?”

“I don’t know who Reva is, Malco.”

“My sister,” I insist. “I sent her through the Golden Door, but she was weak.” I swallow before adding, “Close to dead.”

“Then her fate belongs to another. I won’t lie to you: he’s fickle, petulant, and incredibly difficult to please. But there is a chance.”

Her words rekindle a dying flame in my heart. She may be alive. It may have worked.

“And Katha? She was taken by the Godtouched. I thought she was coming to the Challenge, but no one could find her. I don’t think she went through a Door.”

“Again, I’m sorry, but I have no idea,” Arbiter says, and her voice seems laced with a warning.

Too many questions that don’t pertain to her domain? I sense that what good will I managed to win from her won’t last forever. I retreat to silence, to think and to weigh my options, and Arbiter seems content to let it linger.

We arrive at the foot of the statue. The woman depicted is clad in armor different from any I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are kind, her whole body speaks of caring and of gentleness.

“Who is she?”

“Mercy,” Arbiter answers. “A guise I haven’t worn in a long time.”

I have no idea what she means, and I don’t bother to ask. We stand in silence, looking at the statue, each lost in our own thoughts. A breeze carries through the temple, ruffling Arbiter’s dress and hair. Wind. I forgot how much I missed it.

“So, a level, then?” I ask her.

“Finally, a request I can satisfy,” Arbiter says with a smile. “More than just levels, an Archetype.”

“Like Mage, Warrior…?”

“No,” Arbiter waves her hand in the air irritably, dismissing the very notion. “Those are the imprecise prizes Godtouched get for killing a sufficient number of rats. The Dungeon Challenge, the real Dungeon Challenge gives more… nuanced rewards.”

I frown. Do I have to give up on my old dreams of wielding magic, too?

“The Godtouched may have manipulated and perverted the Challenge, but a few things remain intact. You passed through my door after a number of tribulations and decisions, all of which affect the rewards offered and your ultimate choice. Had you gone through a different Door, my peers would offer you other options. Had you decided differently when traversing the many perils that got you here, and different paths would be available to you.”

“That’s…”

“That’s a lot, yes.” Arbiter smiles. “But this next part is simpler, though not easier. The question is simple: what Archetype will you embody?”

“Arche—”

Before I can finish, something materializes in front of me. A rectangular panel of a faint, shimmering white. When I turn my head, it keeps up with my gaze. Even closing my eyes doesn’t stop me seeing it.

“You’re looking at what everyone that has ever won a level before you has seen. Before you ask, no, it couldn’t be written down. Books can be read, copied, and stolen. This is more… private.”

I focus on the words on the floating page in front of me and immediately they become sharp and easy to read.

AVAILABLE ARCHETYPES:

INQUISITOR

PALADIN

PRIEST

Nothing else.

“I have to choose? Just like that? But I don’t know what I’m choosing! I don’t even know what a paladin is—”

Just as focus on the word, the panel rearranges, letters fading into the background and others materializing into the fore. Visible behind it, Arbiter’s enigmatic smile remains constant.

PALADIN

Paladins are first in the fight against injustice. Their strength in battle is on par with the Warrior’s, but their commanding presence and magic wielding give them sources of power that are beyond mere arms. While the starting Paladin has only weapons and a few magics to their name, in time their own Legend will become the source of their power, and then woe betide their enemies.

“Right,” I say to myself. It’s short, concise, and yet a deluge of information. “It’s… it’s a lot.”

“Yes. It’s a whole new world. But don’t worry about it now. When you leave this place, you’ll be able to make your choice in conscience. This is an appetizer.”

“I can’t believe I actually made it through,” I say.

She turns to me, suddenly serious.

“This is the beginning, Malco. Your life is just starting. Do you understand that? Do you understand how different things will be from now on?”

Her expression reminds me of Dala’s, that night by the Steel the moment my life changed forever.

“I…” as I focus on Arbiter, the words fade away and the misty pages retreat and disappear. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say, always. I can see your motivations, stretching all the way to the moment you stumbled into the Godtouched’s Dungeon. I can see your floundering and your doubting, your courage and your mistakes. The good you did, and also the evil that came from your actions.”

Unbidden, Dako’s corpse, reaching towards the boulder, comes into my mind.

“What I don’t know is why. Why did you do all this?”

“For Katha,” I answer immediately. “She was taken, and I came to save her.”

Arbiter is so short that she must look up at even me, but her confidence and poise make her imposing beyond measure. The wind flutters her tattered dress behind her and makes her long blindfold wrap around my ravaged hand.

“From now on,” she says finally, slowly. “You will have to care about things bigger than yourself. You may have to let her go. Do you understand?”

I find myself shaking my head before she’s finished speaking. The wind abates, and the temple is silent as a mausoleum, as if Arbiter just pronounced a death sentence before a crowd.

“I won’t do it,” I say. It feels like a return to a time before the Dungeon, to the conversations I had with Rev, with Medrein. “I’ll find her and Rev. I don’t care about your rewards and your levels, keep them if you like. I won’t abandon them.”

She regards me for a long moment from behind her blindfold, looking without looking.

“Determined, aren’t you?” there isn’t a shred of humor in her expression. “Bold, yet selfish, unable to think beyond the little sphere of your awareness. You would have done well in the Golden Door, Malco.”

I open my mouth to protest – selfish, me? I’m doing all this for her! But Arbiter isn’t done, and her momentum wipes my words away like so many lines in the sand.

“Understand that I’m not giving you orders. I’m telling you what must happen, whether you want it to or not. War breaks everyone down to size.”

“War?”

“Don’t you hear it coming, brewing in the wind?” Arbiter asks amidst the flutter of her dress. The wind picks up again, as if on cue. “Much has been done to abuse the old powers of the world, and now we’re fighting back. Making soldiers of our own. War is coming, sure as the morning sun.”

“I don’t want to be a soldier.”

“And yet you crossed the Door. You went through the drafting process, you clawed and bit and killed your way to victory and thus proved yourself worthier than other Challengers. You are a soldier, want it or not.”

“I’m didn’t kill anyone! It’s not fair, all I wanted—”

“Don’t speak to me about fairness, Malco,” she cuts in, her face hard and her voice edged like an executioner’s axe. “You are no child and I am no punisher. You passed through the Door of your own free will. Did you ever consider the consequences of your actions? Or did you think of it all as a game, idle make-believe like the Godtouched see it?”

“People died. My sister was almost among them.”

“And did she not choose to be there, or allow others to choose for her? Actions and consequences, Malco. That’s fair. Fighting exclusively for yourself, for what you love and against that which you hate, never considering that others are capable of choice themselves – do you think that’s less than selfish?”

“I…”

Though her voice is cutting, her expression softens and becomes calm, collected, even concerned. The wind blows through the temple and Rue buzzes on my shoulder, and suddenly I don’t know what to say. Arbiter watches me.

“I want them back,” I manage. “Both of them. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

The lines around her blindfold turn Arbiter’s expression to one of infinite pity.

No, not pity. Empathy.

“I know,” she says softly, her voice carrying above the howl of the wind. “Believe me, I know.”

The entire empty temple, ravaged by wind, scoured by time, comes into sharp focus, and Arbiter appears tiny within it, too small amidst the swirl of her wind-animated dress.

“I’ve been a soldier for a long time, and I am tired. But I must go on. The world isn’t fair, but fairness can be carved out of it by those who care enough to put aside their petty worries. That’s what I did and that’s what you’ll do.”

I feel exhausted. The conversation pointless, the breath robbed from me as the hopes of ever seeing Katha again grow dimmer and dimmer in a growing fog.

“When do I get my level?” I ask.

“As soon as I send you back.”

“To the Dungeon?”

“To the Dungeon’s exit, as defined by its makers. I have decided to abide by that rule,” she adds, and her tone suggests that this was entirely a matter of choice.

The wind whips through the temple again, more insistently. It tugs at my clothes, like’s it’s informing me that my time is nearly up and that I should move on. But not yet.

“I have one more question,” I say.

“Surprising. I thought you’d have a million.”

“Do you serve the Godtouched? Are they going to wage war against someone?” I ask, ignoring her little joke.

Arbiter’s quiet, contemplative expression changes immediately. Edges form in her face, her posture straightens, and her eyes move behind their cover. She waits a long time before she answers, during which the wind builds, whispering around pillars and shaking the stained-glass windows.

“Long ago,” she says eventually. “This Door was set in a true Dungeon. It was a fair challenge back then, a test open to all, promising ascension or destruction. Now, it exists as a setpiece in their games.”

She lapses into thought, hands behind her back, her dress dancing behind her like a pair of ragged grey wings streaked with red.

“No, I don’t serve the Godtouched. Unwittingly, they serve me, and I make the best of a bad situation.”

The wind pulls at the edges of her words. It begins to drown out our conversation, and in the air behind Arbiter I think I see white fish-like flashes of light beginning to form.

“I’m not dumb,” I say loudly. “I understood when you said I had passed the first test. There are more tests, and bigger rewards.”

Arbiter remains in silence but turns her face up to me. There’s an intensity hidden behind her blindfold that the cloth can’t conceal or contain.

“I will pass those tests, and I will get what I want. Even if, like you say, I must become a soldier, and war or no war, I’m getting Katha back.”

“The real Challenges are long gone, Malco,” she says, her voice quiet yet unmistakable over the howling wind. “The Godtouched’s games are not fair. You will be torn asunder if you try to do both.”

“Even then.”

Her blindfold stays fixated on me for a long time, and I know I’m being weighed and measured. Flashes of light worm their way between us, streaks of lightning that snake and cut the world in half. Finally, Arbiter smiles. If it’s a smile of pity, or of encouragement, I am unable to tell.

“A parting gift,” she says. “To spare you pain.”

She extends her hands to my injured one. Grateful for a gift I hadn’t dared to ask, I step into a little cocoon of wind, a whirlpool of calm in an ocean of chaos. I place my hand between hers. Her dress envelops us, and all around is grey.

“Remember,” she says. “The world isn’t fair. Don’t rail against its unfairness. Learn to wield it, or it will crush you. Goodbye, Rue. Goodbye, Malco.”

Before I can answer, light blinds me. Arbiter’s words turn to distorted screeches, the wind to the flapping of wings. The ground gives way from under me. There’s a feeling of heat, quick and sudden, and happening very far away. Then I fall.

*

I roll on the smooth cool stone of a large amphitheater. This, the roar of an enormous crowd and the people rushing to me amidst Rue’s buzzing is all I can register before pain consumes me. It comes from everywhere at once and it mixes exhaustion and fear, loss and sadness, and pure, physical agony.

I clutch my arm to my chest, hardly believing what I’m feeling. My hand is gone and the flesh has been seared at the wrist. The absence of my hand is incomprehensible. It piles on top of everything else and becomes too much. My hold on reality slips. Before I drift away, gracefully, mercifully, I catch only a single sentence, repeated twice:

You have gained a Level!

You have gained a Level!

END OF BOOK ONE