Rebirth: Wefpub, #3

Table of Contents

Prelude Metempsychosis

Chapter 1 New Spring

Chapter 2 Raidley's Wrath

Chapter 3 Oswegonia Rebuilding

Chapter 4 The Wedding

Chapter 5 On the Road Again

Chapter 6 Elflora

Chapter 7 Surprise Attack

Chapter 8 The Death of Miracles

Chapter 9 City of Souls

Chapter 10 Kaden's Patient

Chapter 11 Raidley Prepared

Chapter 12 A Return to Victory

Postlude Tears of the Gods

Renaissance of Humanity

Happily Ever After?

Epilogue Home Fires Burning

Prelude

Metempsychosis

The Tear of the Deep was a diamond from the deepest depths of the Underdark, formed by the infinite heat and pressures at the core of the world. The long, slender, crystallized diamond was the hardest substance in the world, and it made for an impenetrable prison. For decades it gathered the essence of Raidley, whose life force routinely drained out of her in what she described as a slow leak. The truth was, Raidley had died in her attempt to magically transport her following of Illuminati to their hidden base and home, Dak'Sil – she just never admitted this to herself or anyone else. Her undead being was no longer able to sustain that life energy even though she found ways to replenish it through using the Orb of the Righteous.

The more life energy she lost, the more the Tear of the Deep absorbed, until it contained enough to sustain her evil spirit. It became her phylactery. So even when DaVi'el's uncontrolled fireball utterly obliterated both Raidley and her mentor, DaSun'Re, Raidley's spirit was spared. Yes, it was this spirit that Lolth had stolen away to send to a different world, but it was also this same evil spirit that had returned through the dimensional portal some time later.

Her spirit needed a host body to become actualized in the physical realm. Upon her return to Carrona, her body came to her from Lolth, a sacrifice of the drow. But that body had been utterly destroyed – not an easy feat – by the small adventuring party that called themselves Wefpub. She once led armies of undead creatures, poised to conquer the world, but this infuriating, pesky party spoiled it all.

Upon her defeat, the magical phylactery recalled her spirit and held it within, safe from any outside forces, until another host could be provided. Confined inside the impenetrable fortress of the precious gem, Raidley could do nothing to get out. Still, she was certain that a host would present itself in time, and in her preserved, immortal state inside the Tear of the Deep, she had all the time she needed.

Isolated as she was, she had no way of knowing what was going on in the world around her. She didn't know that while she waited for the world to provide her with a new host body, that her precious phylactery had been stolen from her workshop within her lab at King Lonnequist's castle in Oswegonia by her former pet dragon, Algernon. The young black dragon had managed to sneak back into her private quarters and steal as much as he could carry back to his lair. There, hidden in the dragon's den, lost amidst the dragon hoard, lay the Tear of the Deep – far away from anything that might serve as a host to her waiting spirit.

Algernon himself was a strong, young, black dragon, who after years of servitude to his mistress Raidley, found himself with an irresistible need for sleep on his newfound wealth. Hidden away in the dragon's lair, lying ever so comfortably on top of his dragon's hoard of magical items, lay Algernon. Deep within his dragon's slumber, Algernon was content to sleep for centuries, as growing young dragons are apt to do – especially when they have such a nice bed of wonderful treasures and trinkets. The magic of all those items procured from Raidley's lab flowed over him like a warm, caressing blanket. He loved the way the strands of magic made his growing, thickening scales tingle as they infused themselves into his rugged hide.

Sustained upon this diet of magic, Algernon grew significantly in a short period of time, swelling in size as he absorbed all that magic like a sponge.

But a dragon is not the only thing that can absorb magic. Life Energy is a potent form of magic, and the Tear of the Deep absorbed it voraciously. Pressed against the young dragon's skin, wedged between those thickening scales, the Tear of the Deep was not satisfied to catch the life force that freely flowed out of broken corpses. Lost within his dragon's slumber, Algernon did not even notice when he shifted on top of that insidious gem, that it punctured through his skin. As his blood dripped through that magically un-healing wound, so too did his Life Energy.

So as the magic from those wonderful items flowed into the young dragon, in turn his Life Energy flowed into the Tear of the Deep. Eventually the bed of magically endowed things ran out of magic to give, but the Tear of the Deep would not be sated. It drank in the dragon's Life Energy and drained every drop of it.

Robbed of his very life, Algernon never awoke from his deep dragon slumber. He never knew what was happening. He never knew he was dead.

What fate and circumstance had stolen from Raidley, the Tear of the Deep provided. No sooner had the last of the precious Life Energy drained out of Algernon, than the spirit of Raidley rushed into the available host. Though the body was dead, and irreversibly so, it could be animated by the spirit of the evil elf mage that refused to accept defeat at death's hands. Once more, Raidley was reborn.

It didn't matter that the young dragon's body was dead. It was just a conduit for Raidley's spirit into the physical world anyways, but oh what a body it was! Even though the flesh would soon start to rot, there were few things in this world as terrifying as a dragon. And through her twisted reincarnation, Raidley had taken the dread beast into the realm of dead beast. When she opened her eyes and stretched out her wings, she was not a black dragon, but rather a death dragon. It was not the feeble strength of fleshy wings that carried her aloft into the sky, but rather the graceful wings of magic.

Giddy with her newfound freedom, Raidley soared down out of the mountain aerie that had served as Algernon's dragon den and she thrilled to be skimming over the land. It was at this precise moment that Raidley noticed that instead of an unbroken cover of ancient forest filling the valley, there was little more than wasteland devastation. What has been going on here? she asked herself. For as far as her keen dragon eyes could see, with all the enhancement of magical vision, it was all the same. The ancient forests had been uprooted, the massive trunks of millennia-old trees tossed aside in a jumble of sticks. Just now new life was starting to appear across the land. Where warm spring sun touched the ground, not filtered out by the thick canopy of green leaves for the first time in a very long time, new life, new growth, could be seen as the next generation of trees already started to make its desperate struggle in the world.

Soon the world would be lovely and green once more. Life would go on. Precious life, Raidley spat, and as if a physical manifestation of her putrid disgust, a thick black cloud erupted from her mouth. It was not the green, thick acidic goo she associated with black dragons that she knew. After all, Raidley was not a black dragon –she was a death dragon. As such, she spewed forth a wave of pure chaotic energy. This wave of chaotic energy traveled out until it came into contact with living things, such as the new growth trees below her. There the chaotic waves tore apart the very ordered semblance of living things, shattering the fragile strands of magic that held it all together. Under the unrelenting torture of this wave of chaos, the trees immediately died.

What a glorious thing! Raidley celebrated to see such a development. Everywhere she breathed her horrid breath weapon, living things died before her. She couldn't wait to see what other surprises waited her in her new existence.

Even though it had only been a matter of months that Raidley had been stuck inside the Tear of the Deep, it had seemed to be an eternity to her immortal mind. And she had spent that eternity playing and replaying the events of her past glorious victories and agonizing defeats. Through her contemplations, she had come across two nemeses she blamed for her downfalls. The first was Wefpub, which had so terribly interfered with her plans of domination with her fantastic army of undead. Yes, she decided. If they're still alive, I will enjoy savoring their defeat.

The other thing that defeated her in her first attempt at world conquest was the land of Elflora. During what became known as The Illuminati War, Raidley had commanded an army of dragons, orcs, and goblins that had eradicated the land of Midkemia off the map. Under their attack, the monstrous forces destroyed all life in Midkemia, leaving the once too proud city as nothing more than sand blowing in the desert wasteland.

High on this victory, Raidley directed her forces to next destroy Elflora, another land of mystical, magical energy. But in the end, that mystical magic destroyed her dragons, and crippled her forces. She was convinced it was because of this deterioration of her strength that she had lost at Bellows Mountain when the coalition of surface races came to meet them. Had it not been for Elflora's crippling effects, they never would have defeated her and driven her Illuminati into the underground. It was for this reason that Elflora was high on her list.

Raidley knew the ways of the self-righteous like Wefpub. She knew that if she had her way with Elflora, they would come to her and save her all the bother of finding them. And if they didn't come, some other self-righteous group would show up and she'd take care of them too.

But first, she understood that Algernon's dragon den would never do for her. Besides getting quite cramped for her newly grown dragon body, it was filled with many piles of gold, silver, and platinum pieces, and with all manner of now magically depleted items. Once she had collected them all as signs of power and strength, but she was past all that now. These physical things held no sway over her any longer. She had graduated to higher ideals of achievement. Now she only wanted revenge.

She returned to Algernon's den for just one item, for there was one priceless item that did interest her. With a clumsy claw, she reached down to carefully hook the chain and lifted it up. The adamantine chain did not tarnish, and this metal was almost as strong as the Tear of the Deep itself. Hanging on the end of the necklace that Raidley had worn as a symbol of her love for DaVi'el for so many years, was the clear crystal diamond. It seemed such a small thing, really, a reminder of the size of her prison confines for that time. She shuddered at the thought of it, compared to the bulk of her body now in dragon form.

Still, she knew, the Tear of the Deep was the real source of her power. She knew that while even this powerful physical dragon form could be defeated, that as long as the Tear of the Deep existed, she could not be destroyed. For this reason alone, the Tear was invaluable to her.

She considered what to do with it. It was too dangerous to continue wearing it or keeping it with her. There was a chance that whatever defeated this form may actually destroy the Tear as well. She could have left it here, hidden in this aerie on the top of the mountain, but the possibility of a thief coming in to steal it, no matter how remote, frightened her. With this, she trusted no one.

In the end, there was only one place where she had ever felt truly safe and secure in this world – one place she had ever called home.

Chapter One

New Spring

Gerrod and Corinna were exhausted beyond belief. The trials and battles of the last year were almost more than the couple could endure. The stress and strain to return to the present through Chronos' time traveling spell had almost destroyed them as it had killed Chronos. It was all they could do to pull themselves back through time after returning the key to Mendal Hall to its rightful place, hidden safely in the past. When a Void came along and destroyed the spell Chronos had cast, killing the affable old mage in the process, they did not think they would survive.

But as always, it was the bond of their love that had seen them through. It gave them the strength to hold on past exhaustion, past reason. It was what gave them the will to live, and grounded them in the here and now. They would never give it up.

So after all the chaos, after they set Chronos' spirit free in a funeral pyre and buried the ashes, they took for themselves a week to rest – a long, well deserved rest. They spent the days wandering the lush, untouched forests of Chronos' Island of Time, absorbing the New Spring that had come at long last across the land. They enjoyed the life of birds singing and darting among the tree branches. They smiled at the budding of the trees and the sweet scent of blossoms everywhere. Finally, it seemed, the world was put back right again. When Raidley stole the Orb of the Righteous from Mendal Hall, the Council Four were no longer able to regulate the world of Carrona. The four demi-gods could not control the elements of fire, earth, wind, and water, and a yearlong Ever Winter had fallen across the land. But Gerrod and Corinna had returned the Orb of the Righteous and hidden the key away, locking it in a circle of time. So as the New Spring came to the world, the couple gloried in the rebirth.

Gerrod, a half-elven ranger by training, and Corinna, a talented human mage, spent their nights celebrating their love. They held each other close and made love freely. They enjoyed simply lying in each other's arms and sharing each other's intimacies. They had never been so close, and for this rare, magical time, they'd never wanted it to end. They laid under the stars, buried under a pile of thick fur blankets for the air proved quite chilly, staring in silence at the splendor of it all, each lost in their own thoughts. You know, Corinna's words cut through the stillness and startled Gerrod back to the moment. We have to go back eventually.

The thought was a cruel slap to Gerrod's dreams. A part of him saw Corinna and him living out their lives in blissful peace, right here in Chronos' tower. He'd be content with everything they had right there, but he knew she was right, and had started to think along the same lines. We should find out what is happening in Oswegonia, he admitted. It'd be horrible if Ace and the girls were still struggling against LaBairne and his undead army while we were simply lounging about here.

Don't get me wrong, Corinna was quick to put in, While we needed this, for we certainly wouldn't have been any good to anybody without this break, we can't be selfish. Even though we've come so far and done so much, it seems there's still so much left to do. Will it ever be over? Again, as if almost getting overwhelmed with the myriad of questions and the buzz of confusion, Corinna nestled deeper into Gerrod's comforting arms seeking solace there.

Feeling that wall of pain and guilt as well, he reassured her as much as himself. It has to be, love. The New Spring is here. The lands are healing once more. It'll be better, you'll see.

But the Voids, the mage shook her head. We still don't know what's going to happen with them. Will they get worse? Will they go away? Nature can rebuild itself, but can the weave of magic?

The best minds for magic are back in Midkemia. We'll stop there and see what we can learn and do, he assured her. He knew how much Corinna's magic meant to her and could not deny her this. He, as always, could not deny Corinna anything. We'll head out tomorrow.

She purred against his chest. All the more reason to enjoy tonight! Playful as a kitten, Corinna pounced on top of Gerrod, only to giggle with glee as he toppled her over and pinned her beneath his muscular frame.

The following morning, they saddled up their mounts and loaded everything of value they could find among the sparse furnishings of Chronos’ tower. The Island of Time was a mile off shore from Midkemia. The island itself was a large plateau that had raised a hundred feet straight up in the air, making flying on and off the island one of the few, best means of gaining access, as there was no shore to land or launch boats.

Corinna enchanted their horses with the power of flight, and in moments they took to the air. Away from the salty mist of waves crashing against the pillar of land, the air became drier and the winds turned bitter. As they soared above the sandy wasteland that was Midkemia, they were grateful for their swift mounts as they carried them toward the City of Magic.

Thousands of years ago, Raidley had attacked the city of Midkemia with her monstrous army of orcs, goblins, and ogres. Raidley’s followers, the Illuminati, had escaped the city and the persecution there and had returned for their vengeance. Powerful flights of dragons rained fire, acid, lightning, and poisonous clouds of gas down onto the city and the forest that surrounded it. They destroyed all life and left nothing in their wake but drifting sands and memories for miles around. Nothing could grow in this magical desert, and this held true to this day.

But the elves loved magic, and they loved their Midkemia. Despite the barren isolation, they found new life here in magic itself, and the city of Midkemia was reborn. Buildings that were once married to the giant, ancient trees of the forest were built now out of the sand. Magic held the sand together in carefully crafted walls, giving the shifting grains form and function. Fantastic structures were carved out of the sand, always with the elven eye toward the aesthetic. Wondrous sand castles and palaces with turrets and towers that spindled toward the always-blue sky, greeted awestruck visitors, and welcomed friends – at least they used to.

The Voids had stripped away the order of magic, freeing the sand to its natural chaos. Walls collapsed into shapeless mounds, which quickly blew away into the shifting dunes. The proud city had been reduced to a bombed-out shell in the middle of a war zone.

In the openings of streets and plazas, what clear and open spaces remained between the crumbled walls and shifting dunes, the citizens of Midkemia were all abuzz, rushing here and about. Their frenetic movement, looking like ants among the piles of sand from their height, added to the general chaos that greeted Corinna and Gerrod below them. They shared concerned, knowing glances with each other, and looked for a safe place to land. The Voids were not getting any better.

Given the status of the city, they passed on any hopes of landing on the roof of buildings as they might normally have done, and settled on an opening in one of the larger plazas where rare space opened up briefly. The two horses and their riders swooped in and landed lightly like giant birds.

Once on the ground, the horses served as normal mounts as they picked their way through the maze of streets toward the royal palace where they hoped to find Bo’Bart, the Arch Mage of Midkemia. Even though Corinna knew the city well, she was forced to turn around several times when they found alleys or streets filled with mountains of sand where buildings once stood. They tried to go around them as much as possible, but there was danger to that as well. As they hugged the remaining walls that lined out the orderly paths of streets, they witnessed the devastating effects of the Voids for themselves.

There were no warning sounds at all, but the sprinkling of loose sands. There were cries of warning from others, and it was all Gerrod and Corinna could do to heel their horses into a gallop away from that dirty rain. Even so, they barely escaped as the magic that held that wall straight, even, and smooth, gave way. In seconds, the base of the massive wall buckled out as a Void came through and carved out the magic that held it together. With those magical strands broken, the weight of the sand did what it does, pouring out like a liquid. Without the base to hold it, the rest of the tall wall gave way, and toppled over, out into the street.

The great weight of the sand shook the ground as it slammed into the wall on the other side of the street, threatening its stability as well. Only the bulk of the sand pressed up against that wall kept it from buckling out as well. Still, the damage was done. As that one wall fell, it brought down with it the supports of the roof and floors that tied into it, and compromised the rest of the walls of the building. Like a house of cards, the rest of the building soon collapsed as well. In a matter of seconds, that fine, tall, proud building was reduced to nothing more than another pile of sand. Worse yet, there were ten people still inside that building at the time. When it gave way, there was nothing solid to protect them. The weight of the sand buried them