Haven's Addiction

I contemplated my predicament for the better part of the day while the coach took me to the rendezvous point with Droclin. Nothing I came up that ended with favorable results. Gerald sought to prove to others that I was dangerous, and I made the case for him.

The coach stopped in the middle of nowhere at a nondescript brick building with what looked like a ‘for sale’ sign in the window. The town around it looked like main street in a small town, but cleaner. Kind of like a suburban version of Basin City. I promptly went inside in the disguise of an equally nondescript individual. Droclin waited just inside the door to welcome me in. I could feel his presence before I even made it to the door without even using my Sense, just like when we first met the night before.

“Ah, mister Smith,” he said with the warm greeting of a realtor, “so glad to see you. Right this way and we will show you all the amenities this property has to offer.”

I nodded without a word and he led me to the basement of the building. In the back corner of the dusty abandoned building was a hidden passage that led to a teleportation room very similar to the one in the Mage guild houses. We entered the room, shut the door, and it began to glow with a familiar set of runes that left us exiting somewhere else.

We came out in the basement of an even more ramshackle old house that looked to be completely abandoned. The dust that accumulated in the place made me sneeze automatically.

“Why hasn’t teleportation like this caught on and become more mainstream?” I asked him, surprised at how quickly I could speak to him like talking with a long time acquaintance.

“It takes a great deal of energy and preparation to do so. I can do it because I am fabulously wealthy. My restaurants are able to pull it off because we charge a premium for the service to offset the cost. The Mages can because they power it themselves.”

“What about the crystals that are now being used as a power source for enchanted items? They look to be paving the way for modernizing Haven.”

“They are, but it takes more than just energy to teleport. It takes a great deal of skill and precision to arrive at the exact point you desire. Keep in mind that you are standing on a rock that us hurling through space at a thousand miles an hour. Just a fraction off and you could find yourself teleported into the vacuum of space or into another object. Safe teleportation for the masses is still a few years off. You were able to teleport this morning because you have the experience of Barthandolous to do it for you.”

We walked out of the basement to find a ramshackle old house that had decayed so much that you could see through the cracks in the walls with the sunshine pouring through. Wherever we were now, it was a different time of day. It had been early evening when I entered the empty office building, but here it was the bright shimmering heat of the afternoon.

The house was like an abandoned old farmstead, the kind you would see in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Indeed, when we stepped outside there was wide open prairie land as far as the eye could see. We walked for a few feet where a line of stones ran in front of the shack all along the field. As soon as I crossed the stone barrier I could automatically feel my connection to Barthandolous break, as well as access to my own abilities.

My eyes opened wide, expecting a trap. I quickly tried to draw out a weapon, but nothing happened.

“Relax,” Droclin smirked, as if he expected that response from me. “It’s not a trap. This is a naturally occurring area of dead magic. The stones are merely markers to indicate the border of the dead zone. Step back over them and you will see what I mean.”

I took a couple steps back across the stones and everything returned exactly as it was before.

“Dead magic zones appear rarely around Haven, but they are fascinating.” I realized now that he was definitely not like Han Solo. He was more of a Lando Calrisian, and I wasn’t just saying that because of the color of his skin. He was the suave businessman who used whatever side of the law it took to make the deal.

“Inside this dead zone is one of the Orbs hidden away. The dead zones nullify any and all magic. This particular one is also a Psionic dead zone, as I am sure you have already noticed, which makes it truly one of a kind.”

‘He is correct,’ Barthandolous spoke up. ‘There is only one place in all of Haven that both anomalies overlap. The Orb of the White Dragon rests within.’

‘It could still be a trap.’

‘Possibly, but not one that is set by him. Go armed, and be on guard. I think I know why he brought you here, and I believe he is right to do so.’

‘All right, see you on the other side,’ I told him.

I put my weapons in holsters. I stored them among the plethora of items stuffed in the magic bag. They fit properly once, what seemed like ages ago, and needed to be adjusted again. I had grown significantly in muscle mass since the first days in Haven. I had the shotgun strapped to my back, the pistol holsters at my side, the rifle slung over my shoulder, a couple other pistols stowed away, and the stun gun hanging from my belt. Before I crossed the threshold, I placed the extra clips of ammunition in my bag.

In the dead zone it was just a normal purple velvet bag. It was truly bizarre to reach my hand in and actually touch fabric. Since I owned the bag it had been nothing but open space on the inside where my hand would touch the things I needed, like rummaging around in a massive junk drawer. In the dead zone the bag was nothing special, which made it more fascinating to me than before. I had grown so used to the magical nature of it that I couldn’t imagine it being anything else. I nodded and cautiously stepped across the stones with the same effect. It was truly bizarre and numbing.

“I thought you said it was naturally occurring,” I said as I looked back at the rocks.

He followed my eyes, “The stones were placed to mark the boundary. No one knows where the dead zones come from, they are natural formations. This one in particular is a mystery because it didn’t always exist. The overlapping of the magic and Psionic dampening are in the exact same areas, indicating that the dead zone is manufactured.”

“Wait a second,” I stopped right in my tracks, causing him to stop as well, looking back at me with annoyance. “If this really is a magical dead zone, then how in the hell am I able to understand you?” I tugged at my ear with the translator inside, completely perplexed as to how it still worked, and wondered if the dead zone was as dead as he claimed it to be.

He grinned a little, expecting my reaction. “Because I am speaking your language.”

“How?” I stammered, as confused as ever. “How can you know my language?”

“Because I make it a point of speaking every known language in Haven?” My reaction seemed to say it all. “There are many places in Haven where magic is not allowed, or like here where it is not possible. Any good businessman knows how to appeal to his clients no matter what the circumstance. Besides, many dignitaries find it flattering when you can speak their native tongue.”

“Ok, I get it, you’re brilliant. But how do you know English?”

“Do you think you are the first human from your world to come to Haven?”

That shut me up right away. I suspected as much considering how many people I encountered in Haven, including Droclin, who appeared to be completely human. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me too much, I just hadn’t thought about it much before.

Droclin led me forward up the gentle slope of the hill as he talked. When we reached the crest of the hill we looked down upon a town in the valley.

“We believe that the dead zone here is completely manufactured because one day it simply appeared,” he continued in his Tour Guide voice, “along with that.”

He didn’t need to explain any further, there was no mistaking what he meant. In the center of the town below in the middle of the valley stood a tower that rose into the sky at least three hundred feet into the air. It was sheer and straight up. The reflection of its metal skin reflected in the noonday sun. The perfectly round cylindrical tower was the same circumference on the bottom as it was on the top, making it an improbably designed structure.

“What the hell is it?” I marveled.

“Duh, it’s a tower.” Without saying anything more about it he started walking towards the town.

I stood looking at him as he walked, dumbfounded. Not just at the metal spire dominating the landscape, but in the fact that he had just said ‘Duh’. That was a very ‘earthling’ thing to say. As far as I knew, none of the nuances of pop culture migrated to Haven except for what spouted out of my mouth, and I couldn’t remember ever using that particular phrase since arriving. Was this just a fluke, did he pick it up from me, or did the translator in my ear make it into something I would more readily recognize?

I had to snap out of it quickly because he continued walking and talking, oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t following. “The dead zone is a popular place for those who wish to avoid the ways of magic completely. Since the area is completely immune to any magical effects, it is the perfect place for them to go. Several anti-magic groups find their home here. Much like Basin City it is also a frequent haunt of those who are trying to avoid the law. Magical forms of detection can’t find them here.”

“Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder, still not turning to see my response, “since magic and Psionics don’t work here, your weapons will make you a formidable foe. Your reputation precedes you. The inferno of Placid is being pinned on you because you were the only living witness. Don’t sweat it, you are not being put on trial for it, but as far as everyone knows you infiltrated the place single handed, defeated Placidious, and left the mountain in a smoldering ruin.”

“That’s horribly inaccurate,” I feigned being appalled. “With the ruckus I made there was no sneaking in. Besides, I didn’t do it single handed,” I grinned. “I used both hands.”

He let out a boisterous laugh. “See, that is the kind of thing that makes legends. The proper reputation can win you a battle before it even starts.”

“Yes, but it can also result in battles that could have been avoided otherwise.” The most recent altercation with Gerald was still fresh in my mind. Apparently it was on his as well.

“Once word gets around about your dealings in New Haven City there will be few people who will want to tangle with you,” He said. “And those who do will be very dangerous.”

A gruff voice called from ahead that I would know anywhere, even if I couldn’t understand the words.

“I didn’t start that fight, Ferdinand,” I challenged. “Even without magic or psionics I could still kick your ass.”

His boisterous man/cow laugh was the only response. When he finally got close enough to see, I almost didn’t recognize him. He wore formal clothes that, considering his bulk, must have been custom made. The pants, tunic, and boots were al made of black leather, which I found to be incredibly ironic. Instead of the ratty wardrobe he wore in Basin city, the outfit made him look respectable. With the cloak over his shoulders, also of black leather with a dark blue trim around the edges, I would have mistaken him for a prince of his people. Then again, for all I knew he came from a wealthy background. Considering how he lived out of public view, I wondered if he did come from more noble origins before going rogue. While the outfit made him look respectable, I didn’t doubt that the cloak was to hide the fact that he still carried his massive ax underneath it. Even the decorative cane he walked with, which would have been more like a walking staff for me, looked to be of stout wood that could just as easily be a weapon as a piece of fashion.

Droclin had the unfortunate job of translator during my entire stay at Kendrick. Up until that moment I seriously underestimated how useful the magical translators really were. The language barrier made it impossible to maintain a confidential conversation with Ferdinand, or anyone else in Haven for that matter. I still didn’t know if I could fully trust Droclin, but at least Ferdinand’s body language and inflection matched with what Droclin Translated to me. Especially considering that he seemed to be translating word for word without any room for paraphrasing.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“You do. I must admit that I never would have imagined that you had such powerful allies.” He gestured towards Droclin with the cane. “For a green whelp, he really is quite resourceful.”

Droclin only grinned as we all entered the town of Kendrick together. “Come, we have a lot of business to attend to.”

Kendrick didn’t have all the bells and whistles of New Haven City, nor was it a rustic old town like Basin City. I expected it to be like an Amish town, full of people who had cast aside the new ways of the world and live off the fat of the land the way god intended without modern conveniences.

All in all Kendrick was more like home than any other place in Haven I saw so far. The buildings were all made of plain wood without any magical enhancements. Everything in town centered around the tower. It was obviously a tourist community with the spire being the center of attention that brought people from all over the world. Everything within several blocks of the tower was nothing but businesses and public pavilions. Street show performers were everywhere, and their performances were so much like home that it was almost unbelievable.

Sword swallowers, jugglers, fire breathers, mimes, contortionists, and magicians abound entertained everywhere like a circus had been let loose. The magicians in particular drew the largest crowd. With slight of hand and misdirection that were used in any magic shows I ever saw back home, they managed to enthrall and absolutely captivate their audience. Everyone in Haven was so used to magic that they couldn’t possibly fathom anything that looked like magic occurring in a place where it was impossible. It was the same kind of fascination I would expect if a mage from Haven came to Earth and demonstrated their magic right in front of everyone.

We went to the private balcony level of a small cafe at the base of the tower. Ferdinand remarked that he could get used to this kind of luxury as he made himself comfortable in a massive couch like it was his own personal chair. My neck quickly got stiff from looking up at the tower, but I couldn’t help it. It was huge and fascinating. There was no other option except to gawk at it. If Haven had a list of seven wonders of the world, this would definitely be on there along with the dragon statues in the Courtyard of Champions.

“What is it?” I asked, enthralled.

“It’s a tower,” Droclin remarked, dryly.

“Obviously,” I looked over to him, “smartass.”

He chuckled, “nobody knows. It just appeared.”

“What? Like magically out of thin air? How was that possible when this is a dead zone?”

“This wasn’t always a dead zone. As near as anyone can figure they built the tower using magic, and then created the dead zone to keep anyone from getting into it.”

“Wouldn’t the magically created tower revert back to its original form?”

“Not entirely.” He used what I liked to call his ‘teacher’ voice. “If the original materials were merely sculpted into a different form, like clay into a pot, it would still retain it’s shape.”

“So you think the Orb is at the top of the windowless metal tower?”

“Yes, I do. Why else would it be built in such a way? Gather the base materials, build the tower out of solid metal with the Orb inside, encase it with an artifact that creates dual dead zones, and you have an unbreakable tomb.”

His theory made sense. If someone was dedicated enough to prevent others from getting an Orb, like Drognaus and his ilk, they might go to such lengths. If that was the case, then they would have built it without any sort of entrance. Whoever did it likely martyred themselves, and were entombed within the tower.

“Let me guess, it appeared about the same time that The Twelve disappeared.”

“Approximately, yes. Although nobody can say for certain. This region was completely uninhabited until the discovery of the spire about fifty years after their imprisonment.”

The walls were like sheer steel with a shine and color that resembled platinum. It was impossible to admire it up close and not reach out to touch it. There were no seams or rivets holding anything in place. It rose approximately 300 feet from the ground forming a perfect cylander 20 feet thick. It was as if the tower had been cast in a giant mold and placed in the middle of the valley.

There was nothing to grab hold of to climb it. Everything from the ground to about ten feet up all the way around the tower had dents, nicks, and scratches from people trying to chisel and smash their way into it. Other than a few scratches it appeared that nobody ever came close to causing any real damage to it. Apparently the material used in its construction was indestructable. The fact that it was a perfect cylandar that rose straight up without any support seemed improbable. Structurally speaking it should at least be wider on the bottom to prevent it from toppling over. It must have been rooted deep into the ground in order reach that high in the sky without falling over. Apparently numerous expeditions have tried to find an entrance into the tower by digging into the earth beneath where we sat, but to no avail.

Most people, it seems, gave up on trying to get into the tower and painted murals all around over base. When you circled around the tower you would occasionally find scaffolding as artists tried to make their work known by making it higher off the ground than anyone else. The town encouraged the art because it brought tourists in regularly to see how much the tower had changed. Some of the most famous artists in Haven could be found on the tower, some who were long since dead. It had become a sort of contest among artists to have their work displayed higher up on the tower than anyone else without getting themselves killed. The town council decreed that all art was permissable so long as it didn’t cover up other artists work.

The gold rush of getting into the tower had long since passed, although the occasional foray’s still occurred when someone had a brilliant new idea on how to attempt it. So far the structure seemed to be completely impervious to all known acids, fires, and blades. Although half of the attempts I heard about sounded more like efforts to draw a crowd than a real effort to crack the vault. After the last attempt resulted in several buildings being burned down, any attempts at gaining access to the tower now needed to be approved by the council to assess whether the effort posed a threat to the town. And, of course, filing the paperwork came with a substantial fee.

“Nobody knows what is inside any more than they know who made it,” Droclin informed us. “Now it is just a tourist attraction, one of the greatest unknown mysteries of Haven. Most everyone assumes that a grand treasure dwells within for whatever reason. Vast fortunes have been spent trying to crack into the greatest vault in Haven’s history. The only real money to be found here, though, is in tourism.”

“And business is good,” I muttered as I looked around.

As we sipped on our drinks watching people below us, I could easily tell who were the tourists and who were the locals. The locals paid the tower no mind, they were used to it. The tourists were fascinated by it, marveling at the structure like myself. On many of their faces you could see them light up with the possibilities of treasure hunting.

“So you want me to break into this thing? The impenetrable tower that nobody in the history of this entire world has ever been able to do?”

“Why?” He asked “Do you not think you can do it?”

“Pffh,” I scoffed. “Of course I can. I just wanted to make sure I had my bragging rights straight.”

We continued with our drinks while I was deep in thought on ways to get in the tower when, completely out of nowhere, Droclin says “I can’t in good conscience let this go without saying something, but you do need to let go of the Orb.”

I suddenly nodded my head in agreement before I even had a chance to respond. “I know,” I told him, suddenly depressed for no explicable reason.

“I’m not going to try and take it from you, if that is your concern. My offer to aid you still stands, and my position on the goal has not changed, nor will it.”

“I understand. You’re looking after your own interests.”

“You are an ally now.” He almost seemed to be correcting me. “You may not realize it yet, but you are a central figurehead in the releasing of The Twelve. In order for me to achieve my goals, I need your head in the game. That won’t happen with Barthandolous hanging over you.”

“I’m beginning to see that. This place is peaceful and tranquil to me,” I looked around. “I thought it was because it felt so much like home. Ever since I had been awakened to these cursed abilities and a hyper awareness of my surroundings, I became detached from what life was like before. In this dead zone it is no longer there. But the more I think about it, or try not to think about it, the more I realize that it was the release of not having him in mind that brought this tranquility.”

“I’m no fool. I’ve done the math. I won’t be able to free The Twelve before he overcomes me, but I don’t know how to get rid of him; don’t know if I can. I can feel the changes I have undergone since connecting with the Orb, and feel like it is driving me crazy sometimes.” It surprised me at how candid I was being.

“Insanity comes to us all at times. The gods know that I have had more than my fair share of it, but it is only temporary. It always passes. We just have to survive it.”

“Do you know of any way to be rid of the Orb?”

“Short of death? No. There is no way. However, there are a multitude of ways to cheat death.”

“That’s not very comforting,” I grumbled under my breath.

“It wasn’t intended to be, merely factual.”

“So, what do you propose?”

“Get the Orbs as quickly as possible, maybe it can be done in time.” He paused for a moment, considering it. “There might be a way to delay the process.”

“What? I’m all ears,” I perked up, suddenly excited.

“The mad wizard, Orin Stragg. He has had two of the Orbs in his possession longer than anyone in their history, and rumor has it that he still appears just as normal as ever. Well, as normal as can be for someone as insane as him.”

“You mean he isn’t turning into a dragon?”

“It appears that way.”

“So why aren’t we going there first?”

“Because I needed to have this talk with you without prying ears before we took this any further.” By this I knew he meant Barthandolous.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I still didn’t fully trust Barthandolous. Personally I was relieved to be away from him for a while. I was genuinely grateful to not have him around, but I still had the longing, uncontrollable urge to leave Kendrick to reconnect with him, even if just for a moment. The thoughts of holding the Orb in my hand and feeling its power filled my mind at every moment created a great deal of anxiety like a bug bite that I couldn’t wait to itch. So much so that it was difficult to concentrate on anything else. Even without Barthandolous directly in contact with me, thoughts of returning pervaded my mind so severely that it was more overwhelming than before. I felt like a crack junkie going cold turkey. I looked down and could see my hands shaking. I firmly grabbed hold of the table to steady them so that the tremors wouldn’t be noticeable. My anxiety didn’t go unnoticed by Droclin. Then again, I don’t think any details ever escaped his attention.

“The wizard Stragg is out of our league until we have more on our side,” he said. Surprisingly I wasn’t insulted by this. It would be one in a long list of things I wasn’t ready for, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

“What is the most direct path to getting all the Orbs?” I asked.

“Gain all the allies you can, and use them to get the others.”

“Who will we need to rally against the most?”

“That would be the Carnivex. They are elusive bastages. It will take everything we have just to find them, let alone get the Orb from them.”

“What are the Carnivex? What are their goals?”

“Nobody knows. They keep to themselves. It is hard enough just to find a trace of them, let alone learn their motives.”

“Do you think they may come on as allies?”

“It’s hard to say.” He shook his head, uncertain. “Even if they did form an allegiance with us, they couldn’t be trusted.”

“Indeed,” spoke Ferdinand. “They will likely be our last challenge. They are too unpredictable, and will be impossible to negotiate with.” He had been silent for so long that I almost forgot he was there. He may not have known any English, but the word Carnivex got his attention instantly. “At least thanks to you we will be able to track them now.”

“Until they find out that we can track them,” Droclin chimed in after translating for Ferdinand, “We need to keep that ace in the hole secret. Right now it is the only weapon we have against them.”

“We also have Kendrick,” I said. They both looked at me completely confused. “With the dead zone we can weed out the Carnivex spies.”

“It doesn’t work that way kiddo,” Droclin told me in his teacher voice again. “The Carnivex don’t use illusions, they are shapeshifters. Much like this tower, they change their form to that of their host. They will maintain that form when they enter the zone.”

“Granted,” Ferdinand added, “they won’t be able to change out of that form while in the zone, but that wouldn’t stop them from using it to their advantage.”

Droclin nodded. “Besides, the Carnivex are effective enough spies that they can convince others who aren’t directly associated with them to do their spying.”

“What is our next greatest challenge aside from the Carnivex, then?”

“The Gold Clan,” Droclin said, and Ferdinand concurred.

“They need to be dealt with right away,” Droclin said. “They already have every law enforcement in New Haven City hunting for you, and probably multiple bounty hunters as well. If they continue with their vendetta, they will put a halt on this whole operation before we have a single Orb in hand.”

“How do we handle them? Can we turn it around and make them into an ally?”

Droclin laughed out loud, but not as loudly as Ferdinand when he translated for him. Ferdinand was the first to speak. “It is possible, but only marginally more than the Carnivex.”

“Yes,” Droclin said. “But you would have to appeal to Drognaus directly. He is the last of the clan, and so far he has bore no children. I’m not entirely sure, but from what I have gathered he doesn’t completely believe in the credo of his grandfather. Something is holding him back or he would have already taken care of you. The tactic he uses now is out of desperation.”

I thought back to the sorrow in his reptilian eyes when he looked up at me from his brothers corpse. He knew from the beginning, or at least close to it, that I would be picking up the Orb. He also knew full well what happens to Orb owners, yet he let me have it.

No. The regret in his eyes. He didn’t want me to have the Orb because he knew what it would do to me, especially after seeing first hand what it did to his own brother. Something, or someone, was forcing him to let the drama with the Orb play out, and he didn’t agree with that decision. That’s why he sent Gerald as his proxy. Drognaus was powerful enough that if he came after me personally, they would probably have the Orb by now.

I looked away from the table, up at the massive tower. The sun shifted enough that I now sat in its shadow. “We start with Drognaus,” I said adamantly. The confidence in my tone, and hearing his name, made Ferdinand immediately understand what I said, and he asked why.

“Because of this,” I gestured towards the tower. “Clearly this was created by the same builders of the Orbs. The only way to free The Twelve is by gathering all the Orbs together. What better way to insure that never happens than by locking one of them away in an impossible prison?”

“Are you certain?” Droclin asked.

“Absolutely. Is there anything other than an Orb, in all of known Haven, with enough power to fuel a continuous dead zone like this one for so long without ever faltering?”

It only took him a moment to consider it. “No. But I already knew that.”

“What you don’t know is how they built it. If we find that out, we figure out how to dismantle it. And the only way to get that is by making friends with the only living descendant of those who created it.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Ferdinand asked through Droclin.

“We give him the other Orbs.”

“We what?!” His reaction came accentuated with a fist pounding on the thick wooden table hard enough crack it.

“If the entire goal of his order is to keep The Twelve from causing further harm to Haven, then we convince him to help us design a better prison for them. Someone has already found the perfect prison to lock them up where nobody can get to them and they can’t get to others,” I looked back up to the top of the tower. “We use the guilt of his brothers death to win him over.”

They nodded in agreement, but I was hesitant. While I didn’t full trust Drognaus, he had also been like a mentor to me from the moment I arrived in Haven. He taught me about more than just fighting. He taught me how to be smart and, most importantly, to think for myself. Placidious and him seemed to have the same viewpoints that the Orbs were dangerous. They only differed on how to go about taking care of them.

Even if comparing myself to his brother wasn’t enough to win him over, at least it would be enough to open up negotiations. A meeting with Drognaus to discuss my future would likely result in my demise.

If I won him over, he would be a powerful ally with a wide network of connections throughout Haven. If I didn’t, he would likely be an immovable obstacle, much like the tower before me. That would stop my progress in getting the Orbs, and I would suffer the worst kind of death at the hands of Barthandolous. With Drognaus I risked losing my life. With Barthandolous I risked losing my self.

Never in my life did I ever expect that facing death would be a welcome alternative.