Arthurian Cultivation

Book 2 Chapter 76 - Behold the grail

Careening through the air focuses the mind wonderfully. The world slowed, my pulse beating a slow drum in my ear. I spun, turning over, but I got to see the spikes at the end of a long fall. My mind running a thousand miles a minute even pointed out the walls decorated with long dead runes which no doubt would’ve added additional trials to the descent Shockingly I’d expected something like this. I sent my mind into my ring.

I pulled out a grapnel and rope. I was no fool, anyone who walked around with a storage ring and no solution to a sudden fall was a total idiot in my opinion. My powers didn’t help with a fall, and even fully repaired my cape did nothing to catch the wind. So I had a solution, time to see if it worked out.

Contorting my body, I flung up the grapnel. Aiming at a narrow lip of stone, the step where Tristan had fished Merlin out of.

It hit the lip but bounced off. The rope was already starting to pull it away from the edge.

A moment later my ash filled knife slammed into the grapnel pinning it to the stone ledge.

I gripped the rope in both hands. And felt it catch and jerk, the rope burning my fingers as I tried to clamp down and control my fall. Then I slammed into the wall, as the rope finally went taught.

The rope stayed still, my hands burning from the friction.

I slammed into the wall again, and finally came to a rest, the sound of the rope under tension creaking above me, terribly loud over the pounding of my heart in my ears.

I uncurled a little, almost doubting that I was still in one piece. I’d fallen far enough that the mouth of the pit was now a distant ring of light, leaving me in half gloom. Slowly rotating the rope spun so my view shifted from the wall I’d bounced off to the rest of the pit.

The spikes were so close if I reached out a foot I could touch them.

I hung there for a second or two, just revelling in my existence. Yet again I had to wonder, how would my phoenix blood have handled this? WOuld I have resurrected still run through with spikes, only die again surround by the charred bones of dead monsters.

Should I start climbing up? With a moment of dramatic irony there was a particularly titanic clash of glamour above, the currents of aura still rolling over me like a storm as the Steels battled.

Perhaps the pit wasn’t so bad.

My heart calmed and parts of me began to ache. Even with my cloak protecting me the death glamour attack from Mordred had done something foul to me. It was easing but in it’s place came a pressure like a thousand pins trying to escape my flesh at once. Death glamour attacks sucked.

To distract myself I threw my mind into working on something else. Thankfully I was dangling precariously over a pit of spikes so I chewed on that problem. Through the gloom I began to look around, surely their must’ve been a way to get rid of bodies before? Was their an access point down here?

That’s when I felt it. The brush of corruption.

The exact same sensation I’d felt when we’d found the book. That I felt any time I was near the so called divine cultivators.

“That fucker. This is where he hid it.” I said aloud, wincing as I looked above. Hopefully they were distracted as they with their power hearing my words would’ve been trivial.

Of course this pit was the perfect place to hide something that bled death and blood glamour. Now I knew to look for it I could taste it on the air. That heady mix of power, that would’ve stood out almost anywhere, but was exactly what you expected at the bottom of a death trap.

Swinging around on the rope I manoeuvred to take in the rest of the pit. I looked around desperately. And found my answer a terrifying swing away..

There was a small alcove recessed into the wall, hidden from the view above by a subtle shift in the stone. Both the exit I’d been looking for, and a steel runed box in a familiar form. Different in shape to Vermald's, and not scrawled all over in mad runes. But the same kind of shape and purpose.

Then came the next challenge getting there. I had to push off from the wall, the spikes waiting just beneath me, littered with bones. One spike even had a human skull pierced right atop it. At least that death would’ve been quick.

I swung over carefully, the fight still frantic above. It was almost pitch black down here. The barest dregs of light reflected from runes we’d deployed. I didn’t dare spread out my smoke too much, not wanting to draw attention to my presence. I’d have to make it up to Sephy later.

I desperately ignored the sound of the rope creaking. Eventually I got a foot onto the alcove and steadied myself. Letting out a long breath as I finally was no longer dangling above certain death.

I stood, grabbed the box, checking it over for traps as best I could. Thankfully it seemed like he didn’t dare risk it. Or more likely the interior of the box was trapped.

I had it. I didn’t dare open it. If I did, and there wasn’t a murderous trap inside, the containment on what had to be the Grail would break down. I’d have a moment of deep satisfaction before the Saint and Rowena’s attention would come down upon me.

Likely followed by parts of the ceiling.

It was maddening, to have it in my grasp and be stuck waiting for rescue or wrath. The smart play was just to wait, but that didn’t feel right. I had to return. To try and help. Rensleigh inspired a deep fear in me, one borne out of respect. She was trusted by the Raven, the Chox Matriarch to protect her heir. She wouldn’t fall so easily.

I briefly considered looking for a doorway, that would hopefully lead up but given Nermil's obsession with traps, I didn't dare risk it. I might’ve been able to pick up the box but I figured that was more because Nermil didn’t want to risk having to fish the grail out from among the spikes.

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Taking a deep breath, I tied the box to my side. Just like the last box it refused to be put into a storage item. From my ring I did pull out a brew to knock back, and then applied a healing salve to where Mordred had stuck me with his dagger. Then hoping that all would go my I started to climb the rope.

I could hear shouts and battle cries above. I kept reeling myself up. Arm over shaky arm, I climbed. the box banging into my side.

The wall shook, a wave of power released. I almost lost my grip. I clamped down on the rope.

That was my last piece of luck. As a scant second later a storm of death glamour slammed into me.

It filled my senses. The will within was inexorable, implacable. Just touching it, reminded me of my foolish decision to cultivate in the ruins of Ursul's battle, where I'd touched upon the will of the dead Cardinal. His Steel cultivation nearly overwhelming me.

This time I wasn't even cultivating, I was just so close. That the power beat against my soul. It was all I could do to shut it out. I gave everything to rejecting the power. I didn't dare sample even the tiniest scrap of it.

It raged around me, like a forest fire. If I let it touch my hearth I would join the flames, and become nothing but ash once again.

I was so focused I barely noticed the tug on the rope as I was pulled up.

Despite the wounds, the worst beating she’d taken in centuries, and the near disaster when the damn woman’s last attack had nearly destroyed the protective relic, Ginevra was smiling as she dumped the bard on the floor. She’d felt him scuttling about below, it seemed he’d found her prize for her if the steel box was anything to go by.

She’d won. A wonderful victory.

It was a resounding success. Not only could feel the power of the artefact even through the crude power suppressing box it was contained in, but she had the specified targets and more. Before her was a collection of lineages which would make for some amazing ransoms and hostages.

True she only had two hounds left, perhaps another couple outside if they didn’t all kill each other. But the Prophet’s wouldn’t care about such paltry loses, especially given she’d had to fight a Steel under the canopy of the demon tree. She was even fucking poisoned! She must’ve got something off of the other Steel. She’d already taken a holy remedy, but something prepared by a Steel poison gifted, even if they were absent, could not be so easily fixed. It gnawed at her, her wounds refusing to heal.

She’d ensure the Clergy understood just how dangerous this was so they could reward her properly.

The only issue was the other artefact. She doubted that Knight’s had come all this way to just hide the artefact in depths of these cursed ruins. So whatever had triggered the first ambush wasn’t here.

Well that’s what she had hostages for!

She’d been a shepherd, huntmaster, and now she could be a merchant!

“Now then, let us speak like civilised souls.” She smiled at them, she’d allowed the weeping girl to approach Rensleigh, wanting to come across as reasonable.

An angry grumble rose up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, at her most amusing and loyal hound. The Paladin of Mercy Mordred, had been a most entertaining distraction. It was a pity that he’d almost certainly end up being put down.

The brutal power of the technique came at a cost. The underlying will that suffused the power of mercy he’d drawn into that attack would already have infected his divine spark. It was the first step on a near irreversible path of madness.

Given he was standing he retained enough sanity to not start absorbing a Steel’s mercy.

Ginevra could already see sparks of it in his eyes, in the way his hands twitched on his blade. There was a feral bend to him that wasn’t there before. It might be fun to have a turn with him before he was consigned to whatever suicide mission he was sent on.

It was the least she could do for giving her the opening.

Right now though she couldn’t experiment with his new temperament. She needed the obedient and eager to please hound back.

“Paladin Mordred, you have my thanks. Truly we have been blessed by the divine. Stand tall and know you have seen Guiding Star’s mission through.” Ginevra carefully watched, only relaxing as he shook himself like the dog he was. After that he rose, lifting from hi low aggressive stance to attention.. A semblance of sanity coming back to his eyes.

His blade still pulsed with mercy and blade blessings, pointing at the hostages.

Ginevra caught the eye of the Priest Tobias, one of the few clergy she bothered to call by name. He was a manipulative snake, but he’d made it clear he was her snake. He gave a hesitant nod, and gently clapped a hand on Mordred’s shoulder.

The Paladin, finally, let his blade drop.

“You honour me Saint. It is a Paladin’s duty to give his all for the Guiding Star” His baritone rumbled out, a hand clamping over his chest in salute.

Ginevra smiled, she doubted Fallowmere would’ve agreed with him.

“Now the lot of you are going to behave. Your miracle came, and has spent itself.” The girl on the floor in front of her twitched, her aura lashing out like a witch’s evil eye. Ginevra looked down at her coldly. “Stow it, the lot of you combined can’t threaten me. And I am perfectly capable of dragging you back with all your limbs cut off.”

That as a lie, she was badly wounded, and holding herself together with her power. Her another Steel might’ve sensed it, but she didn’t have to worry about that. They couldn’t actually kill her, but taking them alive if they fought would be difficult. Even her spear was damaged, she was so weakened by the fight and the poison that they might actually survive a blow before she struck them down.

“Now you with the box. Impressive to save yourself from that fall and find this.” The bard was looking about, he seemed confused. She felt the power of Mercy trapped in his cloak, she guessed he was blessed similarly to Mordred, and he seemed to be struggling to handle being so close to the dead steel.

His mouth was clamped shut, probably a measure to ensure he didn’t make himself rabid just like her hound had.

“You’re even luckier, see it seems that some in the church want to speak with you. So you get to know you’ll live until then.”

“You the rat, what traps are there?” The ratty looking wizard flinched at her shout. She heard him muttering to himself about prophecy, questioning an absent master for not warning him. Still when he looked up his eyes were clear. He looked at the box and finally sighed deeply with resignation.

“It’s not trapped just a glamour shield to hide it from divination, and ensure the power isn’t detected. It’s a classic design.”

“Hmm, not the worst work, maybe I’ll have use of you yet. Go stand next to Priest Tobias, and don’t try and be clever.” Reluctantly the wizard stood, the tall Knight looked about to stop him but held back, a scowl settling on his face.

“So my lucky bard, open it up and lets see what we have.” She grinned.

Looking at the angry man in red and black. He was actually quite fetching, maybe she’d ask the inquisition if she could have him if there was anything left once they were done.

She checked the relic as he began to undo the clasps on the box. It was meant to shield her from the demon who made this place home. It’d worked better than she’d hoped. The demon hadn’t noticed her or the mad Rensleigh woman, who seemed to have come here without her protection.

She’d imagine it was a trick if it wasn’t for how she’d sacrificed herself for charges. It was impressive dedication, stronger than her own. Even with the prophet’s threatening her she’d rather run than face such a pointless death.

She looked up feeling a gaze on her. The Bard was watching her, those lovely grey eyes were unreadable. The rage of the others was absent. . He had all the clasps undone, he

The edge of the box cracked open, and the thing inside breathed in deeply. Her blood which had only just started to cool after the battle heated back up. The thing drank in the spoils of battle, gorging itself. Her instincts screamed at her that this was dangerous, even its power was cleaner than hers or any other Steel.

The blood in the hall turned grey, the lingering power of Mercy in the air was consumed.

Before her was chalice, made of wide clay bowl on a thick stem, the inside was decorated with a seven pointed star. The edges coated in gold and dotted with gems.

Oh she was going to be so rich. Praise the Guiding Star!