Shadows 6 - Complete
Nov. 25th, 2006 02:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measured_wordsThe one benefit to waiting so long between the last two installments is that this one came out so much sooner. Yay! I'm sure you're all excited. I know I am :D I just hope I get the formatting correct... Okay, maybe I'll be happy if I can post it to the right journal o_O
Shadows 6
Abe’s home in Shiroeki was quite large, consisting of one main house, a large courtyard and a large number of outbuildings the function of which Hadyn was still learning. One of these was her laboratory, and this was where she had indicated he should live. Apart from a brief meting where she had established some rather lose boundaries for him, he hadn’t seen her. He’d been given a list of books to read through and left to his own devices.
The library lay in its own outbuilding, joined to the main house by a slim annexed corridor down which he had yet to venture. The readings had kept him well occupied for the last week, and promised to fill his time for the foreseeable future. It was fascinating material - some were texts he was already partially familiar with, and at first he’d thought he could save time by skimming. Abe’s volumes, however, were filled with insightful and sometimes fascinatingly scathing commentary
Many of her volumes were quite ancient and required special care in handing. Hadyn wondered if she’d refrained from giving him instructions because she assumed as a wizard that he knew how to properly care for such delicate materials, or if she figured she’d done enough to instill him with the fear of her wrath. Probably both, he decided.
One of the texts she’d assigned was A History of the Rise and Fall of the Crimson King by Nortia Arialde Seia Mi Tereika Ana That same Elven historian was now allied with the Loyalist cause – probably hoping for some good sequel material. Her original volume was 1500 years old, and Abe’s version was a 3rd edition. The text left a lot of questions unanswered as it was written over a thousand years after the events it chronicled, but it provided a lot of insights that were long since lost. Hadyn wondered how much of what she’d written the author herself remembered.
As interesting as it was to read, he wasn’t certain how much directly helpful information it contained. It focused more on the historic attitudes that least up to and allowed for the Lich King’s initial rise. It spoke of his defeat in general terms: how Riss had allied with the Takewara family in the South, leading to the foundation of the Fourth Dynasty, the politicking between the Dwarven clans and the Aldryn, leading to the Dwarven colonization of the Ring Islands, and how the Elowyn had sanctified the northern forests to protect them from the incursion of demons and undead raised by the Crimson King’s followers. The lich’s resources had been different, and so had his tactics. There was little discussion of exactly how the church of Salistrom had finally defeated him. The Staff of Salistrom had in any case been destroyed in Exia on the Night of the Crimson Death – Hadyn had seen that himself.
The longer second part of Nortia’s text chronicled how the Crimson King’s empire had crumbled shortly after his defeat and the consequences of the war – the flourishing of the South under Takewara control, the increasing Xenophobia of many of the Dwarven clans and their subsequent withdrawal further into the mountains. She traced lingering remnants of he demon’s influence right up to her own time in this way, but Hadyn figured that it would take some fairly desperate reaching to extend evidence of that influence into the present… Except in the case of the Church of Salistrom. It was an interesting twist of fate that the group responsible for the cult’s original downfall had, three thousand years later, been the one to bring it back. Even Nortia’s was vague on the details of the split occurring at the time of her writing between its sects, the True Church and the Holy Church. Her footnotes detailed the difficulties she’d encountered accessing any church records, and an appendix chronicled the general decline in prominence of Salistrom in favour (in the North) of gods such as Esthalos, Sirian, Balint, and the newcomer, Leonidas.
So much for learning from the past. There was little there of direct use to the Loyalists. A careful reading might help trace the corruption of Salistrom’s followers, presumably from the inside, but even that had no immediate practical application that he could see. The bestiaries assigned which designated different types of demons with methods of summoning, banishing and binding, seemed a more fruitful avenue of research for both of Hadyn’s pet subjects.
When he was not reading, he spent some time investigating Abe’s extensive inventory of laboratory equipment. She had no scrying mirror, as she was not technically a wizard and could not use the spell. She possessed instead an object which Hadyn greatly coveted: a crystal ball. They were difficult to find, and cost a small fortune besides. The Loyalists didn’t have one despite their significant resources. Hadyn had been hoping to acquire one for his personal use for ages. He might have afforded one with his shares from Sterling’s company, but he’d never seen one for sale.
As with her books, Abe had given no instructions as to what part of the lab he could access, or on how to use any of her more esoteric equipment. He’d not been assigned any duties in the lab, but nothing was banned to him, and there were no further wards that he could detect that might have prevented him from using whatever he wanted.
He’d held off initially, expecting to see his patron, or captor, or teacher. For the past week he’d seen no one but servants, none of whom had answered any of his questions with more than nervous glances or apologetic bows. He’d experimented some after that, daring to clear a space for some of his own equipment. When he’d received no reprimand, he’d started examining the other resources at his disposal more carefully.
He’d finished Nortia’s book this morning, and examined some of the other texts in the afternoon, but he was sick of reading and the ball beckoned him. There was still no sign of Master Teacher Abe. Hadyn carefully tidied the library and straightened the lab, then, finally, removed the orb from its locked glass case. He’d been given a ring of keys along with the passwords to various wards when he’d been installed in the compound.
He set the orb reverently on the worktable he’d appropriated, and sat before it. He didn’t know the power of this particular device – it warranted a test on a familiar target. Lendrick warded himself against scrying, a precaution he’d picked up from Hadyn after they’d fled Exia together with the cult hot on their heels. The Half-Elf was not as powerful a wizard as himself, though they were both reckoned as High Magi. Hadyn was closer to advancement than his friend, but still had a hard time penetrating Lendrick’s wards on his own.
Operating the device required intense concentration, and Hadyn focused his mind on thoughts and memories of his friend as he began the incantations. This test would be a lengthy process, but it was important. First he needed to tune the crystal’s energies to himself, and force its inherent magic to awaken the same way he would force his own power through a mirror. Scrying through a ball wasn’t any faster, but the items often had other properties that could not be achieved with spells.
An hour later, a hazy image swam into view, and crystallized suddenly as the sphere’s power overwhelmed Lendrick’s ward. There he was in the ruins of the walled courtyard in Fort Cedric under the shade of a large tree, looking up at Sithra arching her naked back towards him as –
Disgusted, Hadyn looked away. It was the middle of the afternoon! Among the many things in the world he had no need or desire to lay eyes on, Lendrick having his way with his little trollop ranked quite high. At least he’d proved the power of the orb, even if he hadn’t had a chance to see what all it could do. That could come later.
He considered potential targets, his thoughts turning to a house he hadn’t seen in years. Was it safe? Did the building even still exist, or had it been replaced with something less tainted by death? What would there be to see, or to gain by looking? Nothing, and yet he couldn’t dismiss the idea.
He could have tried this before with the mirror I the Loyalist compound in Shinkyo, but he’d never felt fully assured of his privacy there. His situation now was different – he knew he’d never have his secrets respected despite his wishes or efforts. It rankled, and disturbed him deeply, but there would be no choice. The freedoms he seemed to have been given were just a trick, but the temptations lain in front of him now whispered that he may as well indulge his curiosity, no matter how morbid, while he had the chance.
Hadyn once again concentrated on the sphere, focusing his will. It didn’t matter that he’d just used it – the orb needed to be tuned with each use. Another hour passed as he forced the magic to see beyond Keth and through the distant planes to his home. It was a difficult prospect, and at first the view presented was unfocused. He realized he was holding his breath, and as he exhaled the image slowly crystallized.
The orb showed a corridor - the one leading to his father’s workroom. The door was open and the glyphs of warding had been removed. He’d spent hours in that room, reading off-limits books about different types of magic when his parents were away, or assisting his father with various projects when they were home. The door had never been left then as it was now – casually ajar. He reoriented his view to look the other way. To his left was the door to his mother’s even more foreboding study. Trophies taken from hunts against the enemies of their people – the Illithid, Githyanki, the Slaad – were displayed on the walls with grisly pride. He could bring instantly to mind the smell of the temple incense she burned to clarify her mind and center herself. He’d never come across anything like it on Keth, though he’d looked.
Now the room was occupied by two young girls seated on low benches, sewing and talking together. A simple woven tapestry of detached geometric shapes hung on the wall behind them. The girls were oblivious to their observer.
It should have been enough. Strangers lived here now. The house still stood, but it had changed. He felt empty, but even as he pressed on through the house, no epiphanies presented themselves. His family’s life here had been erased, just as they had been themselves. He withdrew from the vision feeling unsatisfied and lonely.
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The room was getting cold again, but Matteo was undecided about whether or not he dared to try and get out of bed to rake the embers. His hands - what was left of them - were getting better. Sometimes they itched, but they mostly felt fine save that the skin was quite tight. It was always a shock to look down and be reminded of the extent of the damage. The little magical healing he’d received had gone a long way to repairing the gaping holes where the torturer, Geron, had hammered metal spikes through his palms, but there were still ugly scars on either side. He’d lost two fingers on his left hand, and two and a half on his right. The half was the tip of his thumb, along with the ring and middle fingers. It was still hard to pick things up, or write, or do much of anything at this point. The stumps where the digits now ended were still quite tender, and he had to be careful not to bang them against anything.
As bad as his hands were, his leg pained him much more. The southern woman who was attending him, Shuang, explained that the magic hadn’t been enough to regenerate the lost muscle completely, and that it would consequently never fully recover. His jaw also ached, especially where slivers of broken teeth were still working their way out of his gums. His mouth always felt dry, even when he felt lie he was moments way from drooling all over himself. The few times he’d felt up to trying solid food, he’d barely been able to swallow without choking. He’d never considered the total implications, besides not being able to speak or sing, of not having a tongue.
Taking full stock of his permanent injuries left the thousandth time, he also had to consider his eye and ears. The latter were primarily a cosmetic disfigurement, and he thought of them the least – only when he tried to keep his hair back out of his eyes and found there was nothing to anchor it. His right eye was permanently partially blind. Everything seemed clouded and distorted through it, and it was very sensitive to light. He mostly kept it closed, and Shuang had given him a cloth to tie around his head to cover it. Somewhat ironically, he found that he could now see better in the dark than in the light – testimonial that his bond with the Plane of Shadow was growing stronger despite his invalid status.
He was in two minds about his situation. At times it hardly seemed worth making an effort. He was utterly destroyed. He could hardly hold a pen or brush to write with, let alone exert the manual dexterity required to copy out complex symbols from his limited vocabulary of Southern pictograms. He couldn’t stand, let alone walk, without pain. He felt wretched and helpless. At other times, he rejected these limits he perceived. True, he’d heard nothing from the Loyalists, but they weren’t his only hope. If he could make it home – not to Exia, but to his family, his Elven homeland, surely someone could help him recover. He would find a way to make it back to the north, because continuing to live in this condition was not an option he could accept.
Today he wavered between despair and determination. He was sure the drink Shuang had prepared for him the night before was drugged – he had hazy recollections of dreaming, but was blissfully ignorant of the details. Ever since he’d been rescued, he’d had trouble ordering his mind enough to fall unaided into a restful meditative trance. The drugs had kept him out for a lot longer than usual last night, and he was grateful. Today he had the desire to try to do, well something, but couldn’t quite muster the energy.
Somewhere in the building, Shuang might be around, but he couldn’t call for her. He wasn’t sure it would be fair to inflict his present mood on anyone else. She was helping him, and though he’d gotten the impression that she was receiving some sort of remuneration for his care, it wasn’t coming out of his pocket. He certainly owed someone his gratitude.
The room was growing colder. His bed was close to the ground, and Matteo could feel his body heat seeping away through the mattress into the stone floor. The ambient light was fading, an indication that someone might be coming to feed him soon, but he’d decided. He was sick of lying in the cold. He might regret it, but for now he was willing to take a shot at getting out of bed on his own.
The hearth was on the other side of the room. May as well go for the gold and try and walk it, he figured. He sat up first – the easy part- then pulled himself into a crouch. It was flexing his though that caused the worst pain, and he grimaced now. Maybe in time it would loosen some and hurt less, or else he’d get used to it, but for the moment it was fairly agonizing.
Matteo took a deep breath to steady himself, and found his lungs protesting his exertions. He’d noticed this wheezing quality a few times before, but wasn’t quite sure of the cause. His lungs hurt in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible before experiencing the sensation. If the cult had done anything to his chest, he couldn’t remember and bore no scars. The latter fact meant nothing – Geron could heal as well as hurt, and he’d been through more than he cared to recall.
The longer he remained braced against the wall, the quicker it was becoming apparent that something was going to give. Probably his leg. Move or fall, then. Matteo set his jaw, not willing to accept failure at this early juncture of his effort. He straightened and stood, grimacing as he did. Lights danced at the edges of his vision, and he was suddenly reminded of how little he’d eaten in gods knew how long. His sweat felt cold against his skin.
What was he doing?
The fire, yes. Forward, not so far. It wasn’t a big room, no, just a few steps. He shifted his weight entirely onto his good leg, and slid the bad forward. Ii was a bitch, but the real trying part came now – shifting his weight again. A wave of vertigo allied with his damaged muscle, and he crashed to the ground. In a black moment, he found himself on his knees, fighting with the tightness in his chest. He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to land without injuring himself further. The pounding in his head was just subsiding when Shuang rushed into the room.
“Master Elf!”
Of course she didn’t know his name. Even if he’d been able to communicate better, he wasn’t sure how much it would be wise to share with his nurse. She was a matronly older woman with graying hair, a look of concern and surprise currently written on her features.
“You shouldn’t be up! You’ll hurt yourself.”
He nodded, not inclined to disagree, and coughed. Shuang helped him back to his bed. It was easier to maneuver with someone else to support his weight. Maybe he’d do alright with some kind of cane or staff. His nurse continues to chatter reproachfully as she settled him back onto the low mattress – seated at least, this time. Guessing at the reason for his attempted rising, she crossed the room to rake the coals.
It was comforting to have another person around, even if she was nattering on about how she was planning to try and feed him beef broth for the third meal in a row. He appreciated that she was hoping that he might draw some strength from it, but wished there was someone else around who could explain that it would just make him sick. Elves didn’t eat mean. Coastal Aldryn were considered strange by their kinsmen for including fish in their diet.
Shuang checked him over once more, prodding him in all the most painful places she could think of. Presumably she was checking the progress of his recovery, but Matteo suspected that she just liked to hear what new funny sounds she could evince. Resisting just made it worse – she was stronger than she looked. Once satisfied, she departed with a promise to return in a short while with more rice he could barely swallow and broth that would probably make him vomit if he couldn’t fight her off. At least he couldn’t taste it. Or see it.
And then he was alone again – silenced, half blind, and crippled. At least the room was starting to warm up again. Dejected at his prospects, Matteo resolved that something was going to have to give in this situation, and soon.
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It was mid-afternoon by the time Hadyn made it back to Abe’s home. There was a large teleport sink outside Shiroeki to prevent unwanted incursions, and the gats were warded against similar transportation spells. The only ways to get around these precautions were either to be properly registered and licensed to travel magically, or to teleport a safe distance away and walk or ride the rest of the way. The first option wasn’t acceptable to Hadyn nor, as a foreigner, was he eligible. The power of the sink meant that a ‘safe distance’ translated into a three hour walk, and then he’d had to deal with the gate guards.
He’d been in a foul mood when he’d left white raven, and the walk and subsequent hassle at the gate hadn’t helped matters. He’d produced the documents Abe had secured for him which legitimated his business in the Imperial capital from where he’d tucked them away in his spellbook before he’d left to rescue Lendrick from his drunken teleportation misadventures. They’d only helped speed the interrogation slightly. The clerk had very nearly required a member of the Abe household to come down and vouch for him in person. He was glad it didn’t come to that, in the end. He was also glad he hadn’t had to explain Teah – she found her own way past the walls.
For once he was glad that he’d hardly seen his teacher – he wanted nothing more at this point than to crawl into bed and sleep. The night before had been anything but restful, and he just felt drained. He passed through the gate into the courtyard, aiming for the workshop and reaching into his component pouch for the twisted loop of parchment lubricated with cornflour he’d need to re-cast his Rope trick. He stopped when he noticed movement inside the building – it seemed he’d get no rest for the moment.
Hadyn looked to Teah, half considering just hiding out somewhere in the city until he felt a bit better put together, but he could sense her skepticism. He’d hide until it was too late, and she knew it. Instead of leaving, he walked over to one of the ornamental ponds where a few ancient koi hid under night blooming lotuses. Talking to Lendrick had in the morning had taken a lot out of him, and he hadn’t thought his system had much more left to throw at him. It was an unpleasant surprise to feel the familiar tension building at the back of his neck, creeping down through his shoulders into his core. He couldn’t remember not having a headache; yesterday seemed impossibly far away.
He couldn’t afford a panic attack here - especially not now – and he hunted quickly through his belt pouched until he found one of the Remove Fear potions his friend had given him when they’d said their initial farewells at Fort Cedric. He wished he’d had the presence of mind to do he same the night before, but that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? The potion was refreshing, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. Hadyn turned to face Abe as she approached, guided by a mental warning from his familiar. Teah took her customary place at his side and he placed a hand on her head as though he could draw physically upon her strength. His hostess bore her customary sour expression.
She stopped several feet away and looked him up and down critically as he bowed, and made a cursory gesture of her own. “Come inside,”
Hadyn followed into the workshop, where she ordered him to prepare some tea. There was already water boiled, so he produced two cups and an earthenware pot and set a basic calming brew to steep. This he set on the table in front of Abe, and sat himself on the stool opposite her. She nodded once, though he wasn’t sure if the gesture was one of approval or simple acknowledgement. Hopefully she would be as direct with him this time as she had on all previous occasions – it would at least be over sooner.
“Show me your hand, “she commanded as soon as he’d settled himself, “without your spell.”
He wondered, not for the first time, how much what she seemed to know was simple observation, or if she had other ways of knowing. His wards should protect him from most detection spells. He was a wizard, however, and it was clear that he was not sporting the strange wound she’d inflicted on him with her jade demilune. He hesitated a moment before he reached across the table and dropped the spell.
She was surprised, but covered her reaction with a quick frown and took his hand. The silvered veins were slightly darker today and now crept just a hair above his elbow. They throbbed slightly at the transition to his normal yellowish skin, and also wherever Abe touched them. He’d noticed the difference this morning, and had no doubt that she understood the implication even better than he.
“You still have the talisman I gave you?”
Hadyn nodded. It was tucked safely in his component pouch.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He wasn’t sure where to start. Last night with Lendrick and his fellow revelers trapped on a frozen mountain in need of rescuing? Teah’s initial account of meeting the strange wolf, Reason, before they’d left Fort Cedric? No, she wouldn’t care about details. If she did, she would ask.
“I went back to my allies last night. One of the druids there has recently taken a new animal companion – a wolf. Only last night, we learned this is not his true form. He is a Hound Archon – though he doesn’t remember much of his life. He is very old.”
Abe nodded. Of course she would know of the Archons, natural enemies of all evil creatures from the far planes – Outsiders. She was an expert on demons, and it followed that she would know their enemies.
“Did he attack you?”
“No.”
“But you believed he would.”
“Yes.” He hadn’t thought about it at all – just reacted. Teah had dealt with Reason after they’d both been given human (or in Teah’s case, Half-Elven) forms by Lendrick. Wizards shouldn’t be allowed near their components after they’d had that much ale. Or, even better, they shouldn’t be allowed to drink.
“And you reacted in a manner that increased the power of the demonic influence that taints you.” She made it sound as though he’d slaughtered a room full of helpless infants.
Hadyn shook his head. Why now? He wasn’t ready to get into this on a good day, which this certainly was not. “Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie to me, Zanne.” Her small eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’m not! It was a….tense situation.” He’d certainly been tense; he’d fled to the lab and begged Volaris to send him away. In a more rational frame of mind, he’d have realized that reason posed him no immediate threat. But he hadn’t bee at al rational. “The taint. It feeds on that tension.” He’d felt close to snapping when Volaris had sent him back to White Raven Harbor with Lendrick. His friend had become an almost too convenient target. “It feels threatened, I think.”
“It. You speak of the taint as though it is its own entity. Is this the case?”
“I’m not sure.” Others spoke of it as though it were completely separated from him, something that could be easily removed. The truth was not so simple, he suspected. It spoke I his own voice, and he wasn’t convinced that was simply a trick.
“Tell me how you incurred this taint.”
And here it was. He wondered if he should preface his story with any kind of information – he hadn’t understood; he hadn’t really had a choice. His reasons weren’t clear to him now. Of course, Abe probably wouldn’t care even if she believed him.
“I was traveling through the planes. Blindly. I had an item, but I couldn’t control it properly.” At the time, he hadn’t care to much where he’d ended up, either. “It brought me to the prime Infernal Plane. Before I had an opportunity to escape, one of the native demons accosted me. It made me an offer – knowledge and power that I could use to … defend myself.” To use against the people who had killed his parents, who he’d known were after him. The king’s people, his guard. He understood why, what had happened – it was madness. Not his own in this case. It was the king’s madness.
“And in return?”
Hadyn nodded at Abe’s prompt, ignoring her scowl of disgust and trying to keep his own expression and tone from betraying how deeply disturbing he found it to rehash these events. “I traded it some of my own abilities. Things that my people can do – Psionics. I’m not sure how it worked.”
“And that is all?”
“No. It wanted the item I used to travel between the planes. It said it would send me somewhere safe.” It was a sour thought. True, it would be more difficult for a powerful assassin of any kind to follow him to Keth – the plane was warded. There were ways around these protections, however. And Keth’s guardians might well decide to take exception to his presence here. It had crossed his mind that Abe might be a servant to the Fates, wittingly or not..
She regarded him as she poured the tea, her own cup first, waiting for more. But that was all. His soul, such as it was, belonged to him. Even as young and terrified as he’d been, Hadyn was sure he would have balked at such a proposal. Now, however, he wondered if it mattered. If he were subsumed by the taint, he would be just as lost.
Abe picked up her cup and sniffed it suspiciously. “You are young, Zanne. You must have been quite young when you struck this ill-conceived accord.” She sipped the tea, and nodded once, though her tone remained patronizing and accusatory. “That does not excuse your folly. But it is too late for excuses, as you must well know. How long ago did all this occur?”
“Nearly three years ago now.” Hadyn picked up his cup, the heat sapping some of the tension from his hands. The tea itself was very slightly sweet. He took a deep drink and winced slightly as it burned in his throat.
“Explain the power that they gave you. And then you may go. I can see you will be of little use to me today.”
The end was in sight. And this seemed easier – more a matter of observation, with fewer painful memories to dredge up. “It gave me knowledge of magic. Things that a wizard would know. An aptitude for necromancy.” How to explain the rest, then? He’d rarely been pressed to put his understanding of it into words. “The taint started off weaker. It has grown in power, perhaps increasing as my magic has. It is difficult to describe. It’s negative. Negative thoughts and reactions. It feeds them and feeds from them. Containing it is, or feels like, a matter of self-control. When I lose…”
Abe looked up sharply. “It changes you. How you look, how you think.”
“Yes. I feel more removed from my actions. It’s only ever fully manifested once, and its influence faded in less than a day. I think it is stronger now.”
Lendrick thought this woman could help him. Hadyn still wasn’t sure. He didn’t trust her motives, or see any incentive for her. But he would try this for now, and tell her all she wanted to know. He doubted that this confidence could possibly give her any further power over him than she already possessed. He was already at her mercy, and she showed no sign that any of the details of his condition that she had learned tonight required his immediate elimination. Instead, she refilled her teacup calmly as he finished his explanation.
“I will consider this. Continue your reading for now – take notes on all you consider significant, for your Loyalists and for yourself. I will review them later.”
Hadyn rose and bowed, retreating quickly to his section of the workshop to retrieve his book, recast his Rope Trick, and withdraw from the world.
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“This is a good day, Master Chang. He has been practicing walking with the staff I found for him – just in the rear courtyard. He has also been making progress with his hands. He may be able to answer your questions, though he has not been so forthcoming with my humble self.”
“Thank you, Shuang. I’d like to see him now.”
“Yes, Master Chang, he is resting in his room.”
They exchanged bows. Not everyone in the small community treated him with such extreme courtesy. She was either reacting to the gravity of the current situation, or hoping he would put in a good word for her with Lord Tso-Jiang.
The Elf was alert, watching the door when Change approached and entered. He was sprawled beside a low bench, brush in hand. The few scraps of rice paper that Shuang had turned up around the lodge were covered in shaky black scrawls
“Greetings, stranger.” Chang bowed politely. “I hope Shuang has been keeping good care of you. I also apologize for your confinement here. I did not feel it would be safe to bring you any further after I found you.”
The elf struggles into a more upright sitting position, clearly pained as he shifted his injured leg. The nurse claimed he was wary of the pain killers she’d made available – he generally took only the minimum that she insisted upon. Now he smiles at Chang, closed mouthed and curious.
“I am Chang Hikaru, Warden of the Twilight Wood for his eminence Tso-Jian, who is daimyo of these lands. Do you know of him?”
The elf considered for a moment, and shook his head.
“Shuang tells me you have been practicing your calligraphy – I am humbly sorry that I was not better to assist you.” He did feel bad. Closer to a larger city, it may have been possible to petition a priest to help heal his guest. The village here was small, and apart from one old drunken shrine keeper, holy men rarely passed through the area. The man was not truly his responsibility, but his condition was pitiable. The stranger shrugged helplessly, and Change continued with his intended message. “I hope that you might be able to answer some questions.”
He smiles his closed-mouthed smile again, and nodded as Chang produces several more sheets of rice paper as passed it forward. In exchange he received a sheet already covered with black characters. The elf looked up curiously, and Change was impressed at how naturally is seemed to the elf to convey his meaning in this way – his body language was very clear.
The paper he’d been handed was another matter. The writing was fairly legible, he supposed, but the script was unfamiliar. “I’m sorry, I can’t understand this.”
The elf looks disappointed, shrugged, and passed another sheet forward. This had Southern symbols, messy and ill-formed like a child’s writing. Half the page was covered with practice work; random symbols with notes in the same strange script beside them. At the bottom of the page were some basic questions and some information outlined in a box. Some of the words were not standard pictographs. It looked as though he were trying to combine elements of words he did know to get across his meaning, and it took Chang a moment to work them out.
- Shinkyo, Spirit festival
- Red evil priest, taken away, danger
- Where?
- When?
- Who?
Next to the last was a basic expression of gratitude. Change read these over quickly and considered. They were a long way from Shinkyo, and the spirit festival was over two weeks past.
“We are far south and east of Shinkyo now, in the Funan province. It has been sixteen days since the last day of the festival.” The Elf’s eyes betrayed nothing but a general attentiveness. “These red priests, however… I do not doubt that they are evil. I have seen them in the wood. Can you tell me more about them?”
He took one of the nearly full sheaves, and scribbled in a small empty space. He gripped the brush carefully, steadying it against his palm with the side of his thumb and his little finger. The strokes were fairly controlled despite his handicap. His hesitation seemed to stem primarily from lack of familiarity wth the language. His writing had visibly improved from whenever he’d composed his initial questions. Chang read it quickly once it was pushed his way: ‘Tell story, I write.’
“Very well.” Change knelt across from the elf. The stranger smiles as he removed excess ink from the brush, and looked up expectantly. The Warden began his tale.
“I found you chained to a tree deep in the forest, along with tracks belonging to another man., and once I was sure you were safe, I returned to follow them. We are now at a lodge belonging to my lord, on the edge of the wood. I have been careful to leave few signs that it is inhabited, and gave Shuang instructions o do the same. At first, I thought it was only the one man, and I tracked him to the Shrine of the fallen.
"Centuries ago, the shrine was a site of power dedicated to a powerful evil spirit, and when the emperor’s men came to destroy him, he cursed the land…. So it is told. For a time, holy rituals kept the evil contained, but over the centuries it proved too great, and overwhelmed the wardings. The taint of the place touches all things that grow there. The trees are twisted and brittle, their seeds rot before they ripen. What grass will grow is short ad yellow, as though the evil repels the sunlight that filters through the grey leaves and needles.
"There is a ruin. An enclosure made of great stones struck down by the heroes of old. Now, though they remain in this state of disrepair, it is clear that the evil power was merely sealed away in some better hidden chamber. The Red Priest has found or made an entrance to this secret place, and the shrine’s blight and power increase. Lately there have been more figures in the woods – small groups of two, searching. I think they sought your trail, but I hid it well, and the spirits aided with the days of rain. I have also seen traces of them around this place. Shuang should not have let you go out, even to the courtyard.
"I don’t know what their aim is, but it won’t bring anything but more evil. I sent word to my Lord, but he keeps his household in Shiroeki, and the capital is far from here. We are but a small piece of his holdings, and often far from his mind. The villages here are small and quiet, and the magistrate has few enough men to support him.
"I thought at first that they’d come here to hide, because we are so remote. That may be true, but there are now people missing from the village. The magistrate thinks that if we return you to them, they will release their new prisoners in exchange. But the Red Priests have made no demands, or even any contact. I think it is easy for the magistrate to propose this exchange. You are a stranger, while the others are his charges and he knows them. But he has not seen the depravity they are capable of. I don’t believe they will be so willing to release their captives, but they would gladly take you back, and us as well.
"I have not told anyone where you are, though some may guess. It will not be safe for you, no matter who finds you first. I need to know what these men are doing, and what further threat they pose to the village.”
The elf had finished his initial notes a while ago, listening closely to the tale and making additional notes in response. He looked understandably concerned as he passed Chang the sheet.
- I am from the North – better for you not to know more
- The Priests also from the North – taken two cities. Demon priests. Evil. Stay Away
- Don’t know why here – only cities earlier
- Old spirit – old demon. Same? What do stories say?
- How many?
- Will turn men to demons – red faces covered demons – kill, don’t think
- Won’t trade, just take. Don’t.
- Make village escape. Get help.
Chang frowned. He still had no name, or anything else, to put to this stranger. Was the fact that he was the prisoner of evil men make him trustworthy? Certainly no man deserved to be treated as he had, but did that make him honest? He wanted to think so. “You don’t know what they want here… What about what they want with you?”
The elf closed his eyes, shaking his head and held up his mangled hands. Chang’s heart sank. He’d been hoping for more.
“I am sorry. It will be difficult to convince the magistrate that this trade is in poor judgment if I have nothing to tell him. If he insists upon it, I will not be able to refuse.”
His good eye flashed brightly in angry frustration, and he scowled and shook his head vigorously as he snatched up the brush.
- NO. Not there again. You can’t force me.
“It is not something I desire.”
- Give me time. Find idea.
Chang nodded. It was something. Perhaps one of them could come up with something better after they had more information. “I must go and scout the area to see if I can find traces of the missing villagers. I will return here tomorrow, but after that I must see the magistrate.”
The stranger nodded, still clearly upset. Chang rose and bowed. He too would try and think of a better solution. It could not please the ancestors to collude with evil powers, and allow anyone to be condemned to such a fate. He feared for his family, as his homestead lay nearer the forest than the village. The Elf was right – he should send them away until the danger passed. He would do so as soon as he returned from his current mission.
Shadows 6
Abe’s home in Shiroeki was quite large, consisting of one main house, a large courtyard and a large number of outbuildings the function of which Hadyn was still learning. One of these was her laboratory, and this was where she had indicated he should live. Apart from a brief meting where she had established some rather lose boundaries for him, he hadn’t seen her. He’d been given a list of books to read through and left to his own devices.
The library lay in its own outbuilding, joined to the main house by a slim annexed corridor down which he had yet to venture. The readings had kept him well occupied for the last week, and promised to fill his time for the foreseeable future. It was fascinating material - some were texts he was already partially familiar with, and at first he’d thought he could save time by skimming. Abe’s volumes, however, were filled with insightful and sometimes fascinatingly scathing commentary
Many of her volumes were quite ancient and required special care in handing. Hadyn wondered if she’d refrained from giving him instructions because she assumed as a wizard that he knew how to properly care for such delicate materials, or if she figured she’d done enough to instill him with the fear of her wrath. Probably both, he decided.
One of the texts she’d assigned was A History of the Rise and Fall of the Crimson King by Nortia Arialde Seia Mi Tereika Ana That same Elven historian was now allied with the Loyalist cause – probably hoping for some good sequel material. Her original volume was 1500 years old, and Abe’s version was a 3rd edition. The text left a lot of questions unanswered as it was written over a thousand years after the events it chronicled, but it provided a lot of insights that were long since lost. Hadyn wondered how much of what she’d written the author herself remembered.
As interesting as it was to read, he wasn’t certain how much directly helpful information it contained. It focused more on the historic attitudes that least up to and allowed for the Lich King’s initial rise. It spoke of his defeat in general terms: how Riss had allied with the Takewara family in the South, leading to the foundation of the Fourth Dynasty, the politicking between the Dwarven clans and the Aldryn, leading to the Dwarven colonization of the Ring Islands, and how the Elowyn had sanctified the northern forests to protect them from the incursion of demons and undead raised by the Crimson King’s followers. The lich’s resources had been different, and so had his tactics. There was little discussion of exactly how the church of Salistrom had finally defeated him. The Staff of Salistrom had in any case been destroyed in Exia on the Night of the Crimson Death – Hadyn had seen that himself.
The longer second part of Nortia’s text chronicled how the Crimson King’s empire had crumbled shortly after his defeat and the consequences of the war – the flourishing of the South under Takewara control, the increasing Xenophobia of many of the Dwarven clans and their subsequent withdrawal further into the mountains. She traced lingering remnants of he demon’s influence right up to her own time in this way, but Hadyn figured that it would take some fairly desperate reaching to extend evidence of that influence into the present… Except in the case of the Church of Salistrom. It was an interesting twist of fate that the group responsible for the cult’s original downfall had, three thousand years later, been the one to bring it back. Even Nortia’s was vague on the details of the split occurring at the time of her writing between its sects, the True Church and the Holy Church. Her footnotes detailed the difficulties she’d encountered accessing any church records, and an appendix chronicled the general decline in prominence of Salistrom in favour (in the North) of gods such as Esthalos, Sirian, Balint, and the newcomer, Leonidas.
So much for learning from the past. There was little there of direct use to the Loyalists. A careful reading might help trace the corruption of Salistrom’s followers, presumably from the inside, but even that had no immediate practical application that he could see. The bestiaries assigned which designated different types of demons with methods of summoning, banishing and binding, seemed a more fruitful avenue of research for both of Hadyn’s pet subjects.
When he was not reading, he spent some time investigating Abe’s extensive inventory of laboratory equipment. She had no scrying mirror, as she was not technically a wizard and could not use the spell. She possessed instead an object which Hadyn greatly coveted: a crystal ball. They were difficult to find, and cost a small fortune besides. The Loyalists didn’t have one despite their significant resources. Hadyn had been hoping to acquire one for his personal use for ages. He might have afforded one with his shares from Sterling’s company, but he’d never seen one for sale.
As with her books, Abe had given no instructions as to what part of the lab he could access, or on how to use any of her more esoteric equipment. He’d not been assigned any duties in the lab, but nothing was banned to him, and there were no further wards that he could detect that might have prevented him from using whatever he wanted.
He’d held off initially, expecting to see his patron, or captor, or teacher. For the past week he’d seen no one but servants, none of whom had answered any of his questions with more than nervous glances or apologetic bows. He’d experimented some after that, daring to clear a space for some of his own equipment. When he’d received no reprimand, he’d started examining the other resources at his disposal more carefully.
He’d finished Nortia’s book this morning, and examined some of the other texts in the afternoon, but he was sick of reading and the ball beckoned him. There was still no sign of Master Teacher Abe. Hadyn carefully tidied the library and straightened the lab, then, finally, removed the orb from its locked glass case. He’d been given a ring of keys along with the passwords to various wards when he’d been installed in the compound.
He set the orb reverently on the worktable he’d appropriated, and sat before it. He didn’t know the power of this particular device – it warranted a test on a familiar target. Lendrick warded himself against scrying, a precaution he’d picked up from Hadyn after they’d fled Exia together with the cult hot on their heels. The Half-Elf was not as powerful a wizard as himself, though they were both reckoned as High Magi. Hadyn was closer to advancement than his friend, but still had a hard time penetrating Lendrick’s wards on his own.
Operating the device required intense concentration, and Hadyn focused his mind on thoughts and memories of his friend as he began the incantations. This test would be a lengthy process, but it was important. First he needed to tune the crystal’s energies to himself, and force its inherent magic to awaken the same way he would force his own power through a mirror. Scrying through a ball wasn’t any faster, but the items often had other properties that could not be achieved with spells.
An hour later, a hazy image swam into view, and crystallized suddenly as the sphere’s power overwhelmed Lendrick’s ward. There he was in the ruins of the walled courtyard in Fort Cedric under the shade of a large tree, looking up at Sithra arching her naked back towards him as –
Disgusted, Hadyn looked away. It was the middle of the afternoon! Among the many things in the world he had no need or desire to lay eyes on, Lendrick having his way with his little trollop ranked quite high. At least he’d proved the power of the orb, even if he hadn’t had a chance to see what all it could do. That could come later.
He considered potential targets, his thoughts turning to a house he hadn’t seen in years. Was it safe? Did the building even still exist, or had it been replaced with something less tainted by death? What would there be to see, or to gain by looking? Nothing, and yet he couldn’t dismiss the idea.
He could have tried this before with the mirror I the Loyalist compound in Shinkyo, but he’d never felt fully assured of his privacy there. His situation now was different – he knew he’d never have his secrets respected despite his wishes or efforts. It rankled, and disturbed him deeply, but there would be no choice. The freedoms he seemed to have been given were just a trick, but the temptations lain in front of him now whispered that he may as well indulge his curiosity, no matter how morbid, while he had the chance.
Hadyn once again concentrated on the sphere, focusing his will. It didn’t matter that he’d just used it – the orb needed to be tuned with each use. Another hour passed as he forced the magic to see beyond Keth and through the distant planes to his home. It was a difficult prospect, and at first the view presented was unfocused. He realized he was holding his breath, and as he exhaled the image slowly crystallized.
The orb showed a corridor - the one leading to his father’s workroom. The door was open and the glyphs of warding had been removed. He’d spent hours in that room, reading off-limits books about different types of magic when his parents were away, or assisting his father with various projects when they were home. The door had never been left then as it was now – casually ajar. He reoriented his view to look the other way. To his left was the door to his mother’s even more foreboding study. Trophies taken from hunts against the enemies of their people – the Illithid, Githyanki, the Slaad – were displayed on the walls with grisly pride. He could bring instantly to mind the smell of the temple incense she burned to clarify her mind and center herself. He’d never come across anything like it on Keth, though he’d looked.
Now the room was occupied by two young girls seated on low benches, sewing and talking together. A simple woven tapestry of detached geometric shapes hung on the wall behind them. The girls were oblivious to their observer.
It should have been enough. Strangers lived here now. The house still stood, but it had changed. He felt empty, but even as he pressed on through the house, no epiphanies presented themselves. His family’s life here had been erased, just as they had been themselves. He withdrew from the vision feeling unsatisfied and lonely.
-----------------------------------
The room was getting cold again, but Matteo was undecided about whether or not he dared to try and get out of bed to rake the embers. His hands - what was left of them - were getting better. Sometimes they itched, but they mostly felt fine save that the skin was quite tight. It was always a shock to look down and be reminded of the extent of the damage. The little magical healing he’d received had gone a long way to repairing the gaping holes where the torturer, Geron, had hammered metal spikes through his palms, but there were still ugly scars on either side. He’d lost two fingers on his left hand, and two and a half on his right. The half was the tip of his thumb, along with the ring and middle fingers. It was still hard to pick things up, or write, or do much of anything at this point. The stumps where the digits now ended were still quite tender, and he had to be careful not to bang them against anything.
As bad as his hands were, his leg pained him much more. The southern woman who was attending him, Shuang, explained that the magic hadn’t been enough to regenerate the lost muscle completely, and that it would consequently never fully recover. His jaw also ached, especially where slivers of broken teeth were still working their way out of his gums. His mouth always felt dry, even when he felt lie he was moments way from drooling all over himself. The few times he’d felt up to trying solid food, he’d barely been able to swallow without choking. He’d never considered the total implications, besides not being able to speak or sing, of not having a tongue.
Taking full stock of his permanent injuries left the thousandth time, he also had to consider his eye and ears. The latter were primarily a cosmetic disfigurement, and he thought of them the least – only when he tried to keep his hair back out of his eyes and found there was nothing to anchor it. His right eye was permanently partially blind. Everything seemed clouded and distorted through it, and it was very sensitive to light. He mostly kept it closed, and Shuang had given him a cloth to tie around his head to cover it. Somewhat ironically, he found that he could now see better in the dark than in the light – testimonial that his bond with the Plane of Shadow was growing stronger despite his invalid status.
He was in two minds about his situation. At times it hardly seemed worth making an effort. He was utterly destroyed. He could hardly hold a pen or brush to write with, let alone exert the manual dexterity required to copy out complex symbols from his limited vocabulary of Southern pictograms. He couldn’t stand, let alone walk, without pain. He felt wretched and helpless. At other times, he rejected these limits he perceived. True, he’d heard nothing from the Loyalists, but they weren’t his only hope. If he could make it home – not to Exia, but to his family, his Elven homeland, surely someone could help him recover. He would find a way to make it back to the north, because continuing to live in this condition was not an option he could accept.
Today he wavered between despair and determination. He was sure the drink Shuang had prepared for him the night before was drugged – he had hazy recollections of dreaming, but was blissfully ignorant of the details. Ever since he’d been rescued, he’d had trouble ordering his mind enough to fall unaided into a restful meditative trance. The drugs had kept him out for a lot longer than usual last night, and he was grateful. Today he had the desire to try to do, well something, but couldn’t quite muster the energy.
Somewhere in the building, Shuang might be around, but he couldn’t call for her. He wasn’t sure it would be fair to inflict his present mood on anyone else. She was helping him, and though he’d gotten the impression that she was receiving some sort of remuneration for his care, it wasn’t coming out of his pocket. He certainly owed someone his gratitude.
The room was growing colder. His bed was close to the ground, and Matteo could feel his body heat seeping away through the mattress into the stone floor. The ambient light was fading, an indication that someone might be coming to feed him soon, but he’d decided. He was sick of lying in the cold. He might regret it, but for now he was willing to take a shot at getting out of bed on his own.
The hearth was on the other side of the room. May as well go for the gold and try and walk it, he figured. He sat up first – the easy part- then pulled himself into a crouch. It was flexing his though that caused the worst pain, and he grimaced now. Maybe in time it would loosen some and hurt less, or else he’d get used to it, but for the moment it was fairly agonizing.
Matteo took a deep breath to steady himself, and found his lungs protesting his exertions. He’d noticed this wheezing quality a few times before, but wasn’t quite sure of the cause. His lungs hurt in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible before experiencing the sensation. If the cult had done anything to his chest, he couldn’t remember and bore no scars. The latter fact meant nothing – Geron could heal as well as hurt, and he’d been through more than he cared to recall.
The longer he remained braced against the wall, the quicker it was becoming apparent that something was going to give. Probably his leg. Move or fall, then. Matteo set his jaw, not willing to accept failure at this early juncture of his effort. He straightened and stood, grimacing as he did. Lights danced at the edges of his vision, and he was suddenly reminded of how little he’d eaten in gods knew how long. His sweat felt cold against his skin.
What was he doing?
The fire, yes. Forward, not so far. It wasn’t a big room, no, just a few steps. He shifted his weight entirely onto his good leg, and slid the bad forward. Ii was a bitch, but the real trying part came now – shifting his weight again. A wave of vertigo allied with his damaged muscle, and he crashed to the ground. In a black moment, he found himself on his knees, fighting with the tightness in his chest. He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to land without injuring himself further. The pounding in his head was just subsiding when Shuang rushed into the room.
“Master Elf!”
Of course she didn’t know his name. Even if he’d been able to communicate better, he wasn’t sure how much it would be wise to share with his nurse. She was a matronly older woman with graying hair, a look of concern and surprise currently written on her features.
“You shouldn’t be up! You’ll hurt yourself.”
He nodded, not inclined to disagree, and coughed. Shuang helped him back to his bed. It was easier to maneuver with someone else to support his weight. Maybe he’d do alright with some kind of cane or staff. His nurse continues to chatter reproachfully as she settled him back onto the low mattress – seated at least, this time. Guessing at the reason for his attempted rising, she crossed the room to rake the coals.
It was comforting to have another person around, even if she was nattering on about how she was planning to try and feed him beef broth for the third meal in a row. He appreciated that she was hoping that he might draw some strength from it, but wished there was someone else around who could explain that it would just make him sick. Elves didn’t eat mean. Coastal Aldryn were considered strange by their kinsmen for including fish in their diet.
Shuang checked him over once more, prodding him in all the most painful places she could think of. Presumably she was checking the progress of his recovery, but Matteo suspected that she just liked to hear what new funny sounds she could evince. Resisting just made it worse – she was stronger than she looked. Once satisfied, she departed with a promise to return in a short while with more rice he could barely swallow and broth that would probably make him vomit if he couldn’t fight her off. At least he couldn’t taste it. Or see it.
And then he was alone again – silenced, half blind, and crippled. At least the room was starting to warm up again. Dejected at his prospects, Matteo resolved that something was going to have to give in this situation, and soon.
--------------------------------------------------
It was mid-afternoon by the time Hadyn made it back to Abe’s home. There was a large teleport sink outside Shiroeki to prevent unwanted incursions, and the gats were warded against similar transportation spells. The only ways to get around these precautions were either to be properly registered and licensed to travel magically, or to teleport a safe distance away and walk or ride the rest of the way. The first option wasn’t acceptable to Hadyn nor, as a foreigner, was he eligible. The power of the sink meant that a ‘safe distance’ translated into a three hour walk, and then he’d had to deal with the gate guards.
He’d been in a foul mood when he’d left white raven, and the walk and subsequent hassle at the gate hadn’t helped matters. He’d produced the documents Abe had secured for him which legitimated his business in the Imperial capital from where he’d tucked them away in his spellbook before he’d left to rescue Lendrick from his drunken teleportation misadventures. They’d only helped speed the interrogation slightly. The clerk had very nearly required a member of the Abe household to come down and vouch for him in person. He was glad it didn’t come to that, in the end. He was also glad he hadn’t had to explain Teah – she found her own way past the walls.
For once he was glad that he’d hardly seen his teacher – he wanted nothing more at this point than to crawl into bed and sleep. The night before had been anything but restful, and he just felt drained. He passed through the gate into the courtyard, aiming for the workshop and reaching into his component pouch for the twisted loop of parchment lubricated with cornflour he’d need to re-cast his Rope trick. He stopped when he noticed movement inside the building – it seemed he’d get no rest for the moment.
Hadyn looked to Teah, half considering just hiding out somewhere in the city until he felt a bit better put together, but he could sense her skepticism. He’d hide until it was too late, and she knew it. Instead of leaving, he walked over to one of the ornamental ponds where a few ancient koi hid under night blooming lotuses. Talking to Lendrick had in the morning had taken a lot out of him, and he hadn’t thought his system had much more left to throw at him. It was an unpleasant surprise to feel the familiar tension building at the back of his neck, creeping down through his shoulders into his core. He couldn’t remember not having a headache; yesterday seemed impossibly far away.
He couldn’t afford a panic attack here - especially not now – and he hunted quickly through his belt pouched until he found one of the Remove Fear potions his friend had given him when they’d said their initial farewells at Fort Cedric. He wished he’d had the presence of mind to do he same the night before, but that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? The potion was refreshing, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. Hadyn turned to face Abe as she approached, guided by a mental warning from his familiar. Teah took her customary place at his side and he placed a hand on her head as though he could draw physically upon her strength. His hostess bore her customary sour expression.
She stopped several feet away and looked him up and down critically as he bowed, and made a cursory gesture of her own. “Come inside,”
Hadyn followed into the workshop, where she ordered him to prepare some tea. There was already water boiled, so he produced two cups and an earthenware pot and set a basic calming brew to steep. This he set on the table in front of Abe, and sat himself on the stool opposite her. She nodded once, though he wasn’t sure if the gesture was one of approval or simple acknowledgement. Hopefully she would be as direct with him this time as she had on all previous occasions – it would at least be over sooner.
“Show me your hand, “she commanded as soon as he’d settled himself, “without your spell.”
He wondered, not for the first time, how much what she seemed to know was simple observation, or if she had other ways of knowing. His wards should protect him from most detection spells. He was a wizard, however, and it was clear that he was not sporting the strange wound she’d inflicted on him with her jade demilune. He hesitated a moment before he reached across the table and dropped the spell.
She was surprised, but covered her reaction with a quick frown and took his hand. The silvered veins were slightly darker today and now crept just a hair above his elbow. They throbbed slightly at the transition to his normal yellowish skin, and also wherever Abe touched them. He’d noticed the difference this morning, and had no doubt that she understood the implication even better than he.
“You still have the talisman I gave you?”
Hadyn nodded. It was tucked safely in his component pouch.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He wasn’t sure where to start. Last night with Lendrick and his fellow revelers trapped on a frozen mountain in need of rescuing? Teah’s initial account of meeting the strange wolf, Reason, before they’d left Fort Cedric? No, she wouldn’t care about details. If she did, she would ask.
“I went back to my allies last night. One of the druids there has recently taken a new animal companion – a wolf. Only last night, we learned this is not his true form. He is a Hound Archon – though he doesn’t remember much of his life. He is very old.”
Abe nodded. Of course she would know of the Archons, natural enemies of all evil creatures from the far planes – Outsiders. She was an expert on demons, and it followed that she would know their enemies.
“Did he attack you?”
“No.”
“But you believed he would.”
“Yes.” He hadn’t thought about it at all – just reacted. Teah had dealt with Reason after they’d both been given human (or in Teah’s case, Half-Elven) forms by Lendrick. Wizards shouldn’t be allowed near their components after they’d had that much ale. Or, even better, they shouldn’t be allowed to drink.
“And you reacted in a manner that increased the power of the demonic influence that taints you.” She made it sound as though he’d slaughtered a room full of helpless infants.
Hadyn shook his head. Why now? He wasn’t ready to get into this on a good day, which this certainly was not. “Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie to me, Zanne.” Her small eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’m not! It was a….tense situation.” He’d certainly been tense; he’d fled to the lab and begged Volaris to send him away. In a more rational frame of mind, he’d have realized that reason posed him no immediate threat. But he hadn’t bee at al rational. “The taint. It feeds on that tension.” He’d felt close to snapping when Volaris had sent him back to White Raven Harbor with Lendrick. His friend had become an almost too convenient target. “It feels threatened, I think.”
“It. You speak of the taint as though it is its own entity. Is this the case?”
“I’m not sure.” Others spoke of it as though it were completely separated from him, something that could be easily removed. The truth was not so simple, he suspected. It spoke I his own voice, and he wasn’t convinced that was simply a trick.
“Tell me how you incurred this taint.”
And here it was. He wondered if he should preface his story with any kind of information – he hadn’t understood; he hadn’t really had a choice. His reasons weren’t clear to him now. Of course, Abe probably wouldn’t care even if she believed him.
“I was traveling through the planes. Blindly. I had an item, but I couldn’t control it properly.” At the time, he hadn’t care to much where he’d ended up, either. “It brought me to the prime Infernal Plane. Before I had an opportunity to escape, one of the native demons accosted me. It made me an offer – knowledge and power that I could use to … defend myself.” To use against the people who had killed his parents, who he’d known were after him. The king’s people, his guard. He understood why, what had happened – it was madness. Not his own in this case. It was the king’s madness.
“And in return?”
Hadyn nodded at Abe’s prompt, ignoring her scowl of disgust and trying to keep his own expression and tone from betraying how deeply disturbing he found it to rehash these events. “I traded it some of my own abilities. Things that my people can do – Psionics. I’m not sure how it worked.”
“And that is all?”
“No. It wanted the item I used to travel between the planes. It said it would send me somewhere safe.” It was a sour thought. True, it would be more difficult for a powerful assassin of any kind to follow him to Keth – the plane was warded. There were ways around these protections, however. And Keth’s guardians might well decide to take exception to his presence here. It had crossed his mind that Abe might be a servant to the Fates, wittingly or not..
She regarded him as she poured the tea, her own cup first, waiting for more. But that was all. His soul, such as it was, belonged to him. Even as young and terrified as he’d been, Hadyn was sure he would have balked at such a proposal. Now, however, he wondered if it mattered. If he were subsumed by the taint, he would be just as lost.
Abe picked up her cup and sniffed it suspiciously. “You are young, Zanne. You must have been quite young when you struck this ill-conceived accord.” She sipped the tea, and nodded once, though her tone remained patronizing and accusatory. “That does not excuse your folly. But it is too late for excuses, as you must well know. How long ago did all this occur?”
“Nearly three years ago now.” Hadyn picked up his cup, the heat sapping some of the tension from his hands. The tea itself was very slightly sweet. He took a deep drink and winced slightly as it burned in his throat.
“Explain the power that they gave you. And then you may go. I can see you will be of little use to me today.”
The end was in sight. And this seemed easier – more a matter of observation, with fewer painful memories to dredge up. “It gave me knowledge of magic. Things that a wizard would know. An aptitude for necromancy.” How to explain the rest, then? He’d rarely been pressed to put his understanding of it into words. “The taint started off weaker. It has grown in power, perhaps increasing as my magic has. It is difficult to describe. It’s negative. Negative thoughts and reactions. It feeds them and feeds from them. Containing it is, or feels like, a matter of self-control. When I lose…”
Abe looked up sharply. “It changes you. How you look, how you think.”
“Yes. I feel more removed from my actions. It’s only ever fully manifested once, and its influence faded in less than a day. I think it is stronger now.”
Lendrick thought this woman could help him. Hadyn still wasn’t sure. He didn’t trust her motives, or see any incentive for her. But he would try this for now, and tell her all she wanted to know. He doubted that this confidence could possibly give her any further power over him than she already possessed. He was already at her mercy, and she showed no sign that any of the details of his condition that she had learned tonight required his immediate elimination. Instead, she refilled her teacup calmly as he finished his explanation.
“I will consider this. Continue your reading for now – take notes on all you consider significant, for your Loyalists and for yourself. I will review them later.”
Hadyn rose and bowed, retreating quickly to his section of the workshop to retrieve his book, recast his Rope Trick, and withdraw from the world.
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“This is a good day, Master Chang. He has been practicing walking with the staff I found for him – just in the rear courtyard. He has also been making progress with his hands. He may be able to answer your questions, though he has not been so forthcoming with my humble self.”
“Thank you, Shuang. I’d like to see him now.”
“Yes, Master Chang, he is resting in his room.”
They exchanged bows. Not everyone in the small community treated him with such extreme courtesy. She was either reacting to the gravity of the current situation, or hoping he would put in a good word for her with Lord Tso-Jiang.
The Elf was alert, watching the door when Change approached and entered. He was sprawled beside a low bench, brush in hand. The few scraps of rice paper that Shuang had turned up around the lodge were covered in shaky black scrawls
“Greetings, stranger.” Chang bowed politely. “I hope Shuang has been keeping good care of you. I also apologize for your confinement here. I did not feel it would be safe to bring you any further after I found you.”
The elf struggles into a more upright sitting position, clearly pained as he shifted his injured leg. The nurse claimed he was wary of the pain killers she’d made available – he generally took only the minimum that she insisted upon. Now he smiles at Chang, closed mouthed and curious.
“I am Chang Hikaru, Warden of the Twilight Wood for his eminence Tso-Jian, who is daimyo of these lands. Do you know of him?”
The elf considered for a moment, and shook his head.
“Shuang tells me you have been practicing your calligraphy – I am humbly sorry that I was not better to assist you.” He did feel bad. Closer to a larger city, it may have been possible to petition a priest to help heal his guest. The village here was small, and apart from one old drunken shrine keeper, holy men rarely passed through the area. The man was not truly his responsibility, but his condition was pitiable. The stranger shrugged helplessly, and Change continued with his intended message. “I hope that you might be able to answer some questions.”
He smiles his closed-mouthed smile again, and nodded as Chang produces several more sheets of rice paper as passed it forward. In exchange he received a sheet already covered with black characters. The elf looked up curiously, and Change was impressed at how naturally is seemed to the elf to convey his meaning in this way – his body language was very clear.
The paper he’d been handed was another matter. The writing was fairly legible, he supposed, but the script was unfamiliar. “I’m sorry, I can’t understand this.”
The elf looks disappointed, shrugged, and passed another sheet forward. This had Southern symbols, messy and ill-formed like a child’s writing. Half the page was covered with practice work; random symbols with notes in the same strange script beside them. At the bottom of the page were some basic questions and some information outlined in a box. Some of the words were not standard pictographs. It looked as though he were trying to combine elements of words he did know to get across his meaning, and it took Chang a moment to work them out.
- Shinkyo, Spirit festival
- Red evil priest, taken away, danger
- Where?
- When?
- Who?
Next to the last was a basic expression of gratitude. Change read these over quickly and considered. They were a long way from Shinkyo, and the spirit festival was over two weeks past.
“We are far south and east of Shinkyo now, in the Funan province. It has been sixteen days since the last day of the festival.” The Elf’s eyes betrayed nothing but a general attentiveness. “These red priests, however… I do not doubt that they are evil. I have seen them in the wood. Can you tell me more about them?”
He took one of the nearly full sheaves, and scribbled in a small empty space. He gripped the brush carefully, steadying it against his palm with the side of his thumb and his little finger. The strokes were fairly controlled despite his handicap. His hesitation seemed to stem primarily from lack of familiarity wth the language. His writing had visibly improved from whenever he’d composed his initial questions. Chang read it quickly once it was pushed his way: ‘Tell story, I write.’
“Very well.” Change knelt across from the elf. The stranger smiles as he removed excess ink from the brush, and looked up expectantly. The Warden began his tale.
“I found you chained to a tree deep in the forest, along with tracks belonging to another man., and once I was sure you were safe, I returned to follow them. We are now at a lodge belonging to my lord, on the edge of the wood. I have been careful to leave few signs that it is inhabited, and gave Shuang instructions o do the same. At first, I thought it was only the one man, and I tracked him to the Shrine of the fallen.
"Centuries ago, the shrine was a site of power dedicated to a powerful evil spirit, and when the emperor’s men came to destroy him, he cursed the land…. So it is told. For a time, holy rituals kept the evil contained, but over the centuries it proved too great, and overwhelmed the wardings. The taint of the place touches all things that grow there. The trees are twisted and brittle, their seeds rot before they ripen. What grass will grow is short ad yellow, as though the evil repels the sunlight that filters through the grey leaves and needles.
"There is a ruin. An enclosure made of great stones struck down by the heroes of old. Now, though they remain in this state of disrepair, it is clear that the evil power was merely sealed away in some better hidden chamber. The Red Priest has found or made an entrance to this secret place, and the shrine’s blight and power increase. Lately there have been more figures in the woods – small groups of two, searching. I think they sought your trail, but I hid it well, and the spirits aided with the days of rain. I have also seen traces of them around this place. Shuang should not have let you go out, even to the courtyard.
"I don’t know what their aim is, but it won’t bring anything but more evil. I sent word to my Lord, but he keeps his household in Shiroeki, and the capital is far from here. We are but a small piece of his holdings, and often far from his mind. The villages here are small and quiet, and the magistrate has few enough men to support him.
"I thought at first that they’d come here to hide, because we are so remote. That may be true, but there are now people missing from the village. The magistrate thinks that if we return you to them, they will release their new prisoners in exchange. But the Red Priests have made no demands, or even any contact. I think it is easy for the magistrate to propose this exchange. You are a stranger, while the others are his charges and he knows them. But he has not seen the depravity they are capable of. I don’t believe they will be so willing to release their captives, but they would gladly take you back, and us as well.
"I have not told anyone where you are, though some may guess. It will not be safe for you, no matter who finds you first. I need to know what these men are doing, and what further threat they pose to the village.”
The elf had finished his initial notes a while ago, listening closely to the tale and making additional notes in response. He looked understandably concerned as he passed Chang the sheet.
- I am from the North – better for you not to know more
- The Priests also from the North – taken two cities. Demon priests. Evil. Stay Away
- Don’t know why here – only cities earlier
- Old spirit – old demon. Same? What do stories say?
- How many?
- Will turn men to demons – red faces covered demons – kill, don’t think
- Won’t trade, just take. Don’t.
- Make village escape. Get help.
Chang frowned. He still had no name, or anything else, to put to this stranger. Was the fact that he was the prisoner of evil men make him trustworthy? Certainly no man deserved to be treated as he had, but did that make him honest? He wanted to think so. “You don’t know what they want here… What about what they want with you?”
The elf closed his eyes, shaking his head and held up his mangled hands. Chang’s heart sank. He’d been hoping for more.
“I am sorry. It will be difficult to convince the magistrate that this trade is in poor judgment if I have nothing to tell him. If he insists upon it, I will not be able to refuse.”
His good eye flashed brightly in angry frustration, and he scowled and shook his head vigorously as he snatched up the brush.
- NO. Not there again. You can’t force me.
“It is not something I desire.”
- Give me time. Find idea.
Chang nodded. It was something. Perhaps one of them could come up with something better after they had more information. “I must go and scout the area to see if I can find traces of the missing villagers. I will return here tomorrow, but after that I must see the magistrate.”
The stranger nodded, still clearly upset. Chang rose and bowed. He too would try and think of a better solution. It could not please the ancestors to collude with evil powers, and allow anyone to be condemned to such a fate. He feared for his family, as his homestead lay nearer the forest than the village. The Elf was right – he should send them away until the danger passed. He would do so as soon as he returned from his current mission.
