Chapter 6:

Dorak Risei, The Defeated Champion

The Tomb of The Sands of Time


Dorak Risei refused to sleep. He was sitting at the bar of The Sea’s Embrace, slowly sipping a mug of Kohr Firewhiskey. The look in his eyes was one of ruthless determination. He had tasted defeat that day, but he refused to fail again. As he stared into the middle distance, his body unmoving except to take sips of the burning alcohol, his mind was racing, trying to remember anything he could from the moments before he went unconscious in The Tomb.

He could remember two massive icicle-like feathers shooting out at high speeds towards him and Isha, but when he went to deflect the attack, something he had been taught to do with much smaller projectiles, the only thing he could remember was how cold it was. He had tried to instinctively activate his fire magic, something he had thought he had mastered, but the fire wasn’t strong enough to blot out that coldness. The cold was all-encompassing. That was the last thing he could remember before he went numb and passed out.

He took another sip of the Firewhiskey. It wasn’t cheap alcohol, but by no means was it good. Kohrentrahden was the northernmost continent and Kohr was previously the kingdom on the northern side of that island. To deal with the cold, alcohol was a miner’s best friend. Firewhiskey was made with the strongest alcohol, so it burned to drink it. When he was still at the Dao Shu Monastery, Dorak had once made the mistake of drinking medicinal alcohol. It burned so badly that he thought it was a strange poison.

Since then, when he left the monastery and became a pit fighter, he learned a trick that all brawlers used. “If ya drink the strong stuff, ya won’t feel yer teeth gettin’ popped out.” It was a lesson he had learned quickly. He was never as quick on his feet as the other students of the monastery, so he got hit. A lot. He became good at taking the hits, redirecting them, and even countering by letting his opponent hit him. His teacher at the monastery would have a fit if he saw him fight the way he did now, but that wouldn’t be likely.

“Son, if you plan on drinking more, I’d suggest you take a bottle to your room. We’re closing up the tavern soon.” The old human woman who worked as a barmaid here was cleaning the counter with a rag while she spoke up. “I’ve got another bottle of that Firewhiskey you seem to like. You seem to be the last customer of the day, so I’ll give you the rest of the bottle for two silver.”

Dorak pulled out a small pouch of coins and set three silver on the counter, nodding as the woman took the coins. She handed him the bottle and as she met his eyes, she chuckled, saying, “Thank you kindly, but looking at you, I would have given it to you. You sure need it more than I need three silver.”

Dorak chuckled and responded, “That’s what you say, but you still took my coins.”

The old woman jangled the coins in her hand and said, “This is my tip. What in the hells happened to you? You’ve got a look in your eyes like a merchant who bet against Salkhi.”

Dorak took a swig of the Firewhiskey and started to explain.

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Dorak learned that the woman’s name was Belinda Seawind and she had been running the inn with her husband for a number of years since they gave up on being adventurers. Making money by running an inn had been more manageable than by being an adventurer, so the two had given up on the adventuring life. Their ages probably had something to do with it, too, but Dorak had at least enough manners to not mention that.

Dorak had also explained what happened in The Tomb, which Belinda nodded along with as she finished wiping down the counter. She finished her cleaning for the night, grabbed a bottle from a hidden area beneath the counter, and sat next to Dorak at the bar. Dorak explained how they were ambushed by the Ice Hawk, how Hal had been eaten by it, how Isha and him couldn’t do anything to get Hal out, and finally, how he had apparently died.

Belinda took a swig of a clear alcohol called Saltspray. Dorak had heard of it, but never tried it before, so he asked, “Is that some of the good stuff you only keep for yourself?”

“I don’t keep it just for myself, but no one ever seems to order it, so I keep it for me.”

Dorak didn’t know if no one ordered it because it wasn’t out in the open or if it was because it cost 3 silver just for one mug’s worth, but he didn’t say it. Dorak nodded and said, “I used to fight out in Izek’s Pass, so I’ve seen the bottles before, but it was always above my paygrade.”

“You came here from Izek’s pass? Are the Bladeveils still scamming everyone who comes through there?” Belinda said half-jokingly.

“The Bladeveils? No, they don’t scam anyone,” Dorak responded, almost defensively.

“And the tolls that they charge for entry and exit, those aren’t scams?” Belinda followed, confused, before she continued, realizing, “Oh, wait. You said you were a pit fighter before this. You were probably paid by the Bladeveils.”

“I did some work for the Bladeveils, yeah, but I understand that they aren’t very popular.”

“Popular? Hah! Try infamous. This Saltspray normally costs 10 gold per bottle and 100 gold for twenty. With the tolls, those prices will nearly double. I’ve tried getting Saltspray from somewhere else because I quite like it, but the cost of shipping it overseas is too much for my liking.”

“I get that part, but Izek and Atheria were very good to me when I was in a rough place. If there’s one thing I haven’t forgotten from my teachings, it’s paying proper respect to those who help you when you need it.”

There was a long pause while Belinda sipped her drink and Dorak took a long swig. The pause was eventually broken by Dorak muttering, “The Law of Reason. What a joke.”

Belinda couldn’t clearly make out what Dorak had said, but she could read his face, so she said, “Well, as long as you understand what kind of people the Bladeveils are, I don’t have any reason to worry about you, son.” She took a big swig of her drink, then passed the bottle to Dorak, saying, “Try it. It’s on me.”

Dorak took a sniff first. It was nowhere near as strong as Firewhiskey, but instead smelled like apples and pears. He took a swig and was hit by a salty alcohol, then a smoother fruit-flavored finish. “It’s sure something. I’ll stick to what I know best,” he said before adding with a derisive snort, “Drinking and punching.”

Belinda narrowed her eyes at the comment, asking, “Punching, huh? Were you a prize fighter or just a bar brawler? I’d like it to be the former, seeing as this is my bar and I wouldn’t want brawling here.”

Dorak laughed. “No, I never started a bar brawl. I finished a few, but most of my time was in the pits. Every month, the city had a tournament in the pits. I won that tournament the first month I was in the city. I was there for two other tournaments, but I lost in the title match both times. After that, Izek told me to stop fighting in the tournaments or win them. Atheria told me I should leave the city. She was always better to me than Izek was. I get that he had a city to run, but I was his big money maker. When I wasn’t in the tournaments, I fought prize fights.”

Belinda nodded along, clearly interested in the story. She was a barmaid, so she had heard plenty of interesting stories, especially being in a town full of adventurers, but this was a new one.

“We had a plan. I would fight against big names, win, and Izek would make big money on the bets. Soon, though, he started telling me to throw the fights. I didn’t get why he would do that though, so the first time it happened, I ignored him. He blew up at me in a way I couldn’t believe.”

Belinda listened to his story quietly before saying, “You know why he told you to do that, right?”

Dorak was confused, so Belinda continued, “He was betting against you. If you know who wins, you can’t lose.”

Dorak looked slightly embarrassed to only figure this out now, but then seemed confused as he asked, “But that doesn’t make sense. Izek believes in this thing he calls ‘The Law of Reason’.”

Belinda was the confused one, now. Dorak continued, “Basically, because he has power, he uses that power. If someone is strong, they use that strength. If someone has money, they spend that money. If something is true, the world wants you to prove it. Isn’t the world telling me to prove that I’m strong?”

Belinda sighed, finally beginning to understand where Dorak went wrong, and said, “The Law of Reason. It’s been a while since I heard someone talk about that. I used to live on Discovery Isthmus before the Bladeveils founded Izek’s Pass there. Do you know what The Law of Reason actually means?”

Dorak was still confused and shook his head. Belinda continued, saying, “You’ve got it backwards. The Law of Reason says that everything happens for a reason. If someone buys a round for the bar, it’s because they have money to spend. If someone starts a fight, it’s because they want to fight. If someone wins a fight, it’s because they’re strong. Son, that man stopped seeing you as a fighter and started seeing you as a money making scheme.”

Dorak, for all of his time he spent training his body in the ways of combat, never spent much time learning. When Belinda explained what The Law of Reason was, he felt the wheels in his mind trying to turn, but he couldn’t get it. She could see this on his face, so she interrupted before he hurt himself by trying to think too hard.

“You seem like a good kid, Dorak. What’re you trying to do by conquering The Tomb?”

Dorak thought for a moment before saying, “I want to prove to myself that I’m strong. Stronger than anyone. I can’t do any fancy spells, I can’t make plans, I’m just not that smart. All I know how to do is punch stuff.”

Belinda paused, thinking for a moment before standing, slapping Dorak on the back, and saying, “Go to bed, son. You need to sleep if you wanna prove anything. Take the bottle with you. When you wake up, I’ll make a big breakfast meal for you and your friends.”

Dorak awkwardly stood up, grabbing the bottle, and started heading to his room, before turning around and asking, “Why would you do that? I’m pretty sure three silver isn’t enough for that.”

“This is on me. You remind me of my husband and me back when we were adventurers. We aren’t smart or anything. We wanted to conquer The Tomb because we wanted to be famous. You don’t have to have a good reason to do something, just any reason. What makes someone into a real adventurer is drive. The only person who can stop you is yourself. Now get on now, son. You better be up bright and early or you won't get breakfast.”

Dorak turned and nearly ran to his room. He felt a fire lit beneath him for the first time since he left the monastery. As he climbed the stairs, he was ready for the next day to come so his party could go back and try again at conquering The Tomb. He walked down the hall to his room, bottle in hand and a passion within him.

On the door to his room, a dagger was impaled into a note. Dorak felt himself sink. He knew what this meant. He saw that the dagger was a stiletto, so the job he was being “offered” was an infiltration job. As he took it out of the door, he glanced at the note before stuffing it in his coin pouch, fully knowing that it was fake to fool anyone trying to steal the Bladeveil’s information. He entered his room carefully and did a sweep for anyone trying to listen in or watch him.

After checking for spies, he examined the stiletto. The hilt was made of wood, so he didn’t have a deadline. The blade, however, was made of black metal, so the job would be very dangerous. Lastly, he checked the pommel and found a red gem. Kill all witnesses. After examining the dagger, he rustled through his coin pouch before he found a small coin that wasn’t like the others. This coin was twice as heavy as the gold coins that it looked like. It wasn’t enough of a difference for anyone but coin exchangers or someone who knew what they were looking for to be able to tell. He put the coin up to his mouth and whispered, “Dorak”. It took a moment for a response, but he heard a familiar voice: Atheria Bladeveil. He knew if she was involved, the job was very crucial.

“The Hero’s Halls, The Rod of Kings, negotiated payment.”

The room was silent after that. He wanted to know more, but he understood how this worked. Location, target, and payment. That was all the information he ever got. The rest was up to him. He began to rack his brain, trying to think of anything he knew about the location and the target.

He’d heard of The Hero’s Halls before. It was a large dwarven fortress in the southwestern part of The Hidden Lands, a day’s travel north of the Aerie Mountains. Most of The Hidden Lands were vaguely governed by a council known as the Pearl Republic. Izek’s Pass and The Hero’s Halls were independent from the Pearl Republic though, so they were seen as something of their own nations. The Hero’s Halls was ruled by the three dwarven elders, but Dorak couldn’t remember who they were or what they were like. However, The Rod of Kings was completely foreign to him. Dorak assumed it was some kind of magical artifact, but what it did or what it looked like was beyond him.

The big issue that would face him: his new party. He needed the rest of his party to stand a chance of conquering The Tomb, but he knew that if he didn’t make progress on this job, he would be in danger from the Bladeveils. He would have to do both, but he couldn’t just vanish to a different part of the continent on his own. He also couldn’t let his party know what he was doing, or he would have to kill them. He needed to think of a way to spin the story. He sat down on his bed, still holding the dagger, and began to think.

This was a problem with no good answer. He couldn’t leave his party and he couldn’t avoid doing the job. When he was in the monastery, he was taught that every bad situation could be solved in four ways. His first option: flee. He could tell his new party everything and be on the run together, but the Bladeveils would always find a way. He’d done a few jobs involving people who tried to run from the Bladeveils. Those jobs were the bloodiest ones.

His second option: fight. He knew how to do that. He could make a statement by taking down the Bladeveils. His party was pretty strong. They could probably help him. However, he’d also seen what happened to those who tried to defy Izek. The sight wasn’t pretty, but it made for good entertainment. That is, if you don’t mind the sight of bodies rotting within minutes.

His best two options were either freeze or flatter. He could put off doing the job for as long as possible before he had someone come check on him. There wasn’t a deadline, so that could work fairly well. The other option was to go to Izek’s Pass and try to talk Atheria into giving the job to someone else. If he was going to have to go to Hero’s Hall for the job, the simplest way to go would be over Discovery Isthmus, right through Izek’s Pass. He could talk to Atheria then.

The only problem with that would be finding an excuse to go to Hero’s Hall. He could make the perfect plan to buy time from the Bladeveils, but his party couldn’t find out what he was doing. Dorak was never a very good liar. He tried in the past, but everyone he knew could see right through him. In the end, it came down to two options: try to lie or tell a piece of the truth.

Dorak put the dagger in a secret pouch hidden beneath his monk’s clothes, then set his staff down beside his bed, took off his various pouches from his belt, and laid down on the bed. He took one last swig from the bottle before closing his eyes. He had to wake up early if he wanted that free breakfast that Belinda mentioned earlier.

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Dorak’s dream was a blank void. He hadn’t had dreams in a long time, so when a strange voice called out in the dream, he was caught off-guard. Part of his training at the monastery included sleep training which both allowed him to sleep for only five hours and to prevent magic from manipulating his dreams. However, that training had been useless, since Dorak hadn’t had any dreams in twenty-five years, since he finished basic monk training at the age of ten.

What was happening now was clearly a dream. Dorak’s training allowed him to fully understand and manipulate his dreams, if they ever happened. He raised his left hand in the gesture of a prayer, then took his right pointer finger and tried to touch his left palm. When he was awake, he would feel the sensation of his finger touching his palm. When he was dreaming, his finger would pass right through his palm, leaving him in full control of his dream.

He went to touch his palm, but was interrupted by the strange voice again. “There is nothing here. Why is that? Do you not have memories?”

Dorak was caught off-guard as a blank white mask with bandages trailing from it appeared before him. The mask seemed to be worn by whoever the voice was coming from, but there was no one behind it. Dorak reached out to grab the mask, but instinctively pulled his hand back before a bandage could wrap around his wrist.

“You are a strange one. I visited the other three who intruded upon my resting place, but they all had memories here. You don’t seem to be devoid of memories, so where are you hiding them?”

“What other three? Are you talking about Hal, Isha, and Asyr?”

“Yes, The Hero’s Son, The Speaker of Storms, and The Experiment. They all had memories which I took from them. You have nothing here. Where do you keep your memories?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mask. This is a dream, right? I don’t dream. I’m as confused as you are.”

“I will forgive the insolence, but I am not so patient as to be kept waiting. You intruded upon my tomb. I will take your memories if you do so again. If I cannot find your memories here, I will simply take something other than memories. I will take your time.”

“Well, this is already a waste of time. Let me wake up already.”

“This is your second warning, boy. I will leave you now. If you enter my resting place again, I will not let you leave without my due recompense. One year.”

“What in the hells are you talking about?”

“You seem to be just past adulthood for a half-dragon. If you were to live a full life, you could live into your third century. Each time you enter my tomb, my taxation will be a year of your life. I do need time to fuel The Sands. Do not enter my resting chamber. This is your final warning.”

The mask vanished as Dorak awoke with a start. He felt like he was in a cold sweat, which is bizarre because half-dragons don’t sweat. Then, he looked down and saw something, but it wasn’t actually sweat: it was a thin layer of cold sand covering his body. As he went to touch the sand, it began moving on its own and flew rapidly out of the room. Dorak rushed out of bed, flung the door open, and rushed down the hall. The sand was fast, but Dorak wasn’t slow by any means. Dorak nearly jumped down the stairs. He turned the corner to the tavern part of the inn to see the sand rushing out beneath the front door. He nearly bumped into Belinda, but nimbly dodged as he weaved between tables that were in the midst of being set up for the morning.

“I’ll be back for that breakfast in just a moment!”

He rushed out of the front door and found the sand rushing down the cobbled streets. He could already tell from the direction where it was heading. In the empty streets of the early morning, he had nothing to block his path. He went to his full speed, climbing to the roof of a nearby building, and began jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he could finally make out just the top of the mausoleum behind the walls. He could see the smallest amount of the door to The Tomb of The Sands of Time just as a faint golden light began to glow from the door. Dorak stopped on the edge of a rooftop as the glow subsided. He suddenly felt his bones ache, his claws on his hands and feet grow rapidly, and his scales began to shed as a new layer grew beneath them. He could feel himself losing a year of his life. He grabbed a handful of scales and marched back to The Sea’s Embrace with a purpose.

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Hal, Asyr, and Isha were quickly grabbed by Dorak in various parts of their morning routines. Hal was wiping himself down with a wet rag, but when Dorak opened the door to his room, Hal simply poured the rest of the pitcher of water over his head and grabbed a dry rag before following Dorak. Asyr was nearly fully equipped and ready to go for the day, but was incredibly startled to see Dorak and Hal. She grabbed Ulyx the imp from a birdcage in the corner of the room and began to follow. Lastly, Isha was distractedly polishing armor when Dorak entered the room.

“What is it that you need, Dorak? I have things I must attend to-”

Dorak ignored her and said, plainly, “Come on. There’s breakfast for us downstairs and we have things we all need to talk about.”

Dorak left the room while Isha was still confused, but didn’t wait for her to follow. As Dorak descended the stairs, turned the corner and sat down in the tavern where Hal and Asyr were already waiting, slightly confused, Dorak sat down and could hear Isha following behind after a short delay.

Dorak spoke up before anyone could ask a question, saying, “We all had a dream last night, right? And in all of those dreams, a white mask showed up, right?”

Hal, Asyr, and Isha, who just reached the tavern area, spoke up with various questions of confusion.

“How did you know that?” Isha said, breaking through the noise.

“I don’t dream. I was trained to control my dreams so that magic can’t influence them. I had a dream last night and a blank white mask appeared. It told me that it visited ‘The Hero’s Son’, ‘The Speaker of Storms’, and ‘The Experiment’. Now I don’t know what those things mean, but what’s important is that the mask said it was taking memories from you.”

“What are you talking about? I remember everyth-” Hal tried to speak up, but was interrupted by Isha, saying, “That mask told me that it came to collect memories. I still remember everything from the dream I had, but I can’t remember my mother’s name.”

“What?” asked Asyr, panic in her voice. “I think I can remember everything. Did something happen?”

“Asyr, it’s fine. If you knew that you couldn’t remember something, it means you certainly forgot something. If you don’t know you forgot something, it means the memories weren’t significant enough to be recognized as forgotten. I know I forgot my mother’s name because I remember my father’s name, Kenshiro.”

Isha calmly explained this to Asyr as Hal spoke up, saying, “I can’t remember what my father’s face looked like. I can remember what the statue of him looked like, but I can’t remember what he looked like.”

Dorak silenced everyone with a single phrase: “I aged one year.”

The table was shocked and confused, so Dorak continued, “I don’t dream, so the mask couldn’t find my memories. It took a year of my life instead. I’m thirty-six now. Physically, at least.”

Isha was the first to break the silence with a question: “Do you know how it happened?”

Dorak responded, “I woke with a layer of sand covering me. It moved, so I followed it. It went to The Tomb. When it entered the door of The Tomb, I got a year older.”

“When you say it entered the door, do you mean it opened the door or did it enter the door itself?”

“I think it went into the hourglass on the front of the door. I couldn’t see it, so I’m just guessing on that.”

Isha was silent, thinking, so Hal, who had been thinking with his hands steepled, spoke up, saying, “I’m twenty-three years old. My mother’s name is Asha Redwind. I have six older siblings named Fenn, Aster, Uther, Kanna, Theorin, and Illiana. My grandparents are Bud Swishpick and Lessa Udgar. My father was Nathaniel Sevenoaks. I killed him when I was thirteen. He was eaten by the Elder Serpent, Extoltrius, that is summoned by my glaive. I was chosen by my father’s will to be the one who inherits Sevenpoint Estate, simply because I was the one who killed him. Those are all of my most important memories. If I can’t remember them, I want you all to remember them.”

Asyr was the first to speak up. “I’m twenty-three, too. My mom is Danielle Moonriver. My dad is the archangel Itheros. My closest friend is Ulyx. I have to kill an Archmage named Aether Illibraut and a demon prince named Colavito. Those two experimented on me and replaced my human blood with demon blood. I was seventeen when it happened, but I was kidnapped by the Archmage just before I reached sixteen. Remember my memories, too.”

Isha sighed, took a deep breath to steady herself, then said, “I am twenty-nine years old, if that matters. My father, as I said, was Kenshiro. I don’t remember my mother’s name. We came from a poor fishing village, so the concept of family names was foreign. That village was destroyed by a flood and I was the only survivor. Lady Salkhi claimed me as her Speaker on that day. I was taken to the Forest Temple in Morigishi where I met William Verdan, who taught me everything I know about the church. We went to Triangle’s Coast and the Azure Temple and I was taught by a traveling priest named Gavin Swiftstone about his work. I became an adventurer to try and find the Speakers of the other amitad. If I can find them, Lady Salkhi will grant me one wish. I will wish for Sakaumi, my village, to be rebuilt as a shrine of spirits so I can see my parents one final time.”

Dorak didn’t continue, even though the others were looking at him expectantly. He did say, “My memories weren’t taken, so I don’t need to share. I’ll remember your memories, but I don’t know you three that well, yet.”

Isha was about to complain, but Dorak continued, saying, “It does suck to be the oldest one here. I would have preferred it if one of you was closer to my age. Now I feel like I have to be responsible or something.”

That finally broke Isha’s patience. “You should always be responsible! I can’t believe this. I’m going to finish preparing for the day.”

However, as she stood up to go back to her room, a steaming spread of various fruits, eggs, and fresh bread was carried out to the table the group was sitting at. Isha wanted to finish polishing her armor, but food took precedence. The group sat down and ate a hearty breakfast together on their second day as a party.

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