by JD Franx
“Easy, Ama Taugr. I mean you no harm.” Cormack tried his best to take in the features of the person in front of him, but his mind failed miserably. The black robe, hood, and mask hid every feature used to identify someone. In seconds, Cormack’s eyes caught the man’s own and found himself transfixed as red slitted pupils and throbbing purple, star-burst feathery irises swimming in a sea of black sclera stared back at him.
“You were with Captain Havarrow when you came in. Correct?” the stranger asked.
“Yes,” Cormack answered, almost as if he had no choice.
“I’m interested in booking passage with him. Please, join me at my table when you and your party are ready to eat. I have a private booth on the second floor, just tell your hostess that Sythrnax is waiting for you.”
“All right,” Cormack answered, swallowing hard. A hollow sense of fear hung in the air, affecting him more the longer he talked to the strange man. With a slight nod, Sythrnax whirled and walked away, but not before Cormack caught the strangest sight. Several appendages hung under the stranger’s hood, but he was not able to see their full length. He did notice they were covered in silver scales.
“What in the Nine Hells... Never mind. I need a bath.”
Too tired, sore and dirty to figure it out, Cormack climbed the stairs to the third floor baths.
CAULDRON’S TEETH
SARTAQ TRIBAL CAMP
Vexa, her two priestesses, and Kasna Kordanu entered the Sartaq ritual tent and quickly made the preparations needed to summon the vile goddess, the only deity the Sartaq had ever worshipped. With the weakened spirit inside of her, Vexa knelt before a towering altar. Made from the twisting green vines of living plants, the huge effigy was an incredibly accurate representation of Reetha, the demon queen of suffering. A large stone offering bowl sat between the effigy’s feet.
Not having the power or magic to summon the demon queen to Talohna, Vexa focused the power she could access, barking the words to her spell.
“Lauss, Likami Andi.” The spell sparked to life instantly. Combined with the weakened spirit inhabiting her body, the witch doctor used her magic to shift her body and souls from the mortal coil of Talohna. She opened her eyes and found herself in the Spiritlands. The ritual tent around her shifted fluidly, as the stolen soul fought for control of her mind. The sickening sensation made the distorted reality waver in her vision.
The vile goddess woke from her slumber and the vine effigy came to life.
“Why do you disturb my rest, witch of the Sartaq?”
“The other tribes have asked us to go to war against the northern defilers. The Sartaq seek your counsel, mistress, as always.”
“What benefit would this war bring to me?”
Vexa frowned as the spirit within her tried again to exert itself and take over her mind. She pushed the mild inconvenience away, knowing the attempts would only get stronger and more frequent.
“The arrangement my mother’s mother had with you for the war seventy-five years ago? Would it suffice?”
“No. Your young ones were too slow tagging the bodies; most of the souls had already fled the flesh by the time they were marked into my possession. However, your tribal warriors use a cutlass-type blade during close fighting, do they not?”
“They do, Goddess.”
“Then offer the Sartaq’s help only if the other tribes promise to forge my mark into the guards and butts of their swords, and then use the weapons to mark their kills.”
“It will be done. As you declare it. Is there anything I can do for you personally, my Goddess?”
“There is.” The effigy held out a large key-like amulet. “You need to take this relic to a... man named Sythrnax. He will meet you on the northern side of the Wedge, on the mountain’s far side. Arrive prepared and do not trust this man, but honour or agree to any deal or offer made. Do not refuse him. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Be sure you do. This man is not to be crossed. Your tribe’s magic will not help you against him. Your warriors even less so.”
Vexa nodded her agreement and bowed. The demon queen faded from view as her priestesses tore the spirit from her body and sent it back to where it came from. The witch doctor’s body and mind returned fully to Talohna as the relic dropped from the effigy and clattered in the offering bowl.
She gasped and turned to Kasna. “You, your father, and his scout may leave. His offerings stay. Tell him we’ll help fight his war if all the gathered tribes agree to our terms. Make him aware the Sartaq will be at the tribal war council.”
“Yes, mistress,” Kasna said. She bowed and left.
“Prepare a full travel party,” Vexa said, and turned to the other priestesses. “We travel to the Wedge. Be sure all the new slaves are ready to travel with us. They must begin learning our ways.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Ember continues to amaze me. She studies the charcoal rubbings from the ruins in Stillwater with an eagerness that makes me envious. I watch her edge closer and closer to unravelling the secrets of a language very few could speak fluently even when there where thousands of people speaking it. It pains me that I’m unable to help her when she’s so close to translating several phrases properly. When she does, the effect on Talohna will have far reaching effects. I will not sabotage her progress. I will wait and watch until she figures it out. Only then will I decide how much of the truth she can accept.”
Yrlissa Blackmist’s personal journal
Found within the remains of Kazzador City, 5026 PC
THE FREE LANDS
The first night out from Dasal, Giddeon and Max found a campsite overlooking a large valley that stretched down to the ocean called the Sea of Storms. The breathtaking view left little chance of any attack from the steep hillside. Yrlissa helped Ember from the wagon. She had woken a few hours earlier and was relieved to be feeling better. Max and Kasik left the camp to secure the area and to try hunting. They had plenty of dried goods, but fresh meat would become a lot scarcer the higher into the Dwarven Mountains they went.
Still tired, Ember sat on a log by the fire and rubbed her head.
“You all right?” Yrlissa asked.
Ember sighed, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Just a headache. It’s from that smell.”
“What smell?” Yrlissa asked as she glanced around the camp.
“I don’t know. Can’t explain it. Like rotten cinnamon. You have cinnamon in Talohna?”
“Shit,” Yrlissa said, looking across the camp again, more intently this time.
Giddeon perked up at her words. “Did she say...?”
“Your mask, Father,” Saleece snapped as she pulled the soft leather cowl sewn inside her robe up over her mouth and nose.
“We need to find it, and now,” Yrlissa said, her own mask already in place.
Neither noticed Ember walk away until she spoke. “It’s over here,” she said, from the far side of the camp and twenty feet down the embankment.
“Stop!” Yrlissa yelled, rushing across the camp to her side. “Back up, Ember, now.”
“No,” she said frowning. Yrlissa’s voice was irritating, but it quickly passed as a calm settled over her. “The flowers are pretty, they look like your tattoo.” An incessant need to touch the petals overwhelmed her. “I want them.” Yrlissa grabbed her and quickly pulled her back up the rise.
Ember shook her head, and it felt like a powerful dark fog receded from her mind. “What happened? I remember rotten cinnamon and then nothing.” Looking back down the hill, she smiled. “Look, Yrlissa. That flower’s gorgeous.”
“And deadly too,” Giddeon said approaching. “It’s a death-flower. That’s why it looks like Yrlissa’s tattoo.”
“Someone care to explain?” Ember asked.
“Can anyone make out the colour of the bloom?” Saleece asked as she approached.
“Light blue, but some were red.” Ember answered.
“It’s not black, at least,” Giddeon said,
chewing his bottom lip.
“I swear to God,” Ember snapped. “Someone explain. Today preferably.”
Yrlissa nodded. “Sorry, nahlla. It’s a death-flower, like Giddeon said. They grow where ever a powerful wizard dies and his or her body decomposes naturally. It’s why wizards are cremated. Two colours on the blooms means a second wizard fell victim to the plant’s effects, like you almost did.”
“Lovely thought,” Ember muttered. She knew the sarcasm gave her voice an edge.
“Extremely,” Saleece said, staring down the mountainside. “The scent of the blooms clouds your judgement, and when you get close enough to smell one of the flowers, it’s lights out.”
“I’ll destroy them,” Yrlissa offered. Giddeon nodded and lead Ember back to the fire and to sit down.
Yrlissa slid down the hill and out of sight of their camp. Pulling her mask down, she inhaled deeply before lifting the mask back up over nose as a precaution, even though she was immune to its effects. Sliding a dagger from behind her waist, she bent her knees. Glancing back over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she used the point of her blade to pierce the very bottom of the blooming bulb where it met the stem. The plant twitched and lengths of vines snaked from the grass, coiling around her legs.
Yrlissa reached inside her leather armour and pulled a small pouch from the pocket hidden inside. She rarely used the small collection of poisons and antidotes, but had still brought it with her when she left the Blades’ sanctuary after talking to Falcon Yorsair. Opening the flap, she withdrew a small glass vial and carefully removed her blade from the bulb. A noxious liquid oozed out and filled the vial a quarter of the way. Repeating the process with several other blooms until the vial was full, she replaced the cork stopper and put the poisoner’s kit away.
The thorny vines continued to crawl up her legs slowly, as if caressing their way up her body. She smiled as one curled around her hand like a gentle and curious snake.
“Sorry,” she said, easing the sentient vines to the ground. “Frosehnee Ashan.” The ancient Dyrannai spell activated immediately, jumping from Yrlissa’s hands, the magic flash froze the plants and all their vines. A second spell followed on the heel’s of the first. “Foss Hrinda Ashan.”
Another tight, compacted spell hammered the plants as compressed air shattered the frozen flowers into millions of pieces. Yrlissa smiled, satisfied the plants wouldn’t take root and regrow, putting travellers at risk. She returned to the fire and nodded towards Giddeon to let him know it was done.
As Giddeon sat at the fire while Saleece readied the tripod for a pot of water, he sighed. Digging through his travel pack, he took the letter that was sent to him by Zaddyk at the same time as King Bale’s extermination missive. Ember frowned, she was pretty sure he hadn’t read it yet.
“Saleece?” Giddeon asked.
She turned from the fire. “Yes, Father?”
“My dear, come sit and read this letter from Zaddyk to those of us here. Perhaps explain who he is to Yrlissa and Ember first. I’m growing weary of the secrets and the conflict they’re causing amongst the group. Read it aloud, if you please,” he requested.
“Are you sure, father?” Saleece asked. A look of incredulity marked her features.
“I am. No more secrets. Go ahead,” he urged.
“All right,” Saleece said. Turning towards Ember and Yrlissa, she sat down by the fire before beginning. “Zaddyk Lauren is a young prophet a few years older than you, Ember. He was raised in the goddess Cortina’s chapel. Just before leaving, we were asked to go see him. Remember, Yrlissa?”
Yrlissa nodded. “I do.” Looking at Ember, she added, “You were sleeping when the courier arrived. Max and I stayed to watch over you. We were afraid that Captain BlackSpawn would attempt to kidnap you again.”
“Yes, exactly,” Saleece said before continuing. “Well, when we got to the monastery, Zaddyk’s mind was trapped on the temporal winds of the future. It happens when a prophet’s power becomes active.”
“Or when they mature into adulthood if they are born that way,” Yrlissa added.
“Yes, exactly,” Saleece said. “We had to confer the goddess’ power to an amulet. It’s a ritual performed by an ArchWizard or a member of the Inari. It allows a prophet to control their powers and use it to some beneficial end.” She stopped to take a breath, as if gathering her thoughts.
Giddeon nodded to her and she continued. “All right then. This letter is from Zaddyk, I guess. He’s the only prophet we know of currently, the first in over four hundred years. Now, keep in mind that what ever he says about the future is only one possible outcome of many. The temporal lines of the future are fluid, shifting and changing, dependant on the actions of mortals... and perhaps even the gods, as of late,” she said shyly.
Giddeon nodded a second time, Saleece opened the letter and read.
Giddeon,
I have tried as many times as my aching body will allow to see what lies ahead in order to help you. You were always like a father to me, and I want you to know that I have always considered you such. I want you to know this while my sanity still controls my mind. It slowly slips away, Giddeon, into the horrors I have seen ahead of us all. I know what’s in store for me, but perhaps I can help before things get too bad. I will continue to try, though I fear insanity will take me for good long before you return to Corynth.
Because of this you must know that a prophet’s words cannot be interpreted with any certainty. Please, understand this. I have read many prophecies here in the monastery and though I understand what they mean, I promise you, every assessment of ours here has been false. Even Brother Donis’, so please heed this warning; if you do not, the worst may come to pass. Prophecies are handed down by the gods, to be understood by the broken mind of a prophet, not the stable mind of a mortal man. Another warning I must make you aware of is that all of the prophecies about Kael are gone, stolen from Cortina’s vault before I could read them. Brother Donis will try to find them, but I suspect it was done to stop me from reading them and giving you the proper meaning of the warnings written within the prophecy’s words.
Last of all, and most importantly, is what I myself have seen ahead. Please remember that the night I was granted Cortina’s blessing, I heard very clearly in her words that when she and her sister took you back to Jasala’s tower, the Black Arc, all those years ago, she said it was a wasted warning and that you did not understand what you were supposed to. She also said that you are failing in your guardianship of the realm, though exactly what she means I do not know. I am sorry. I will keep trying to find you answers, that much I promise.
The future holds many paths forward, and I have seen many of them, yet not one would I want to live in. I have watched Corynth burn as friends dear to me fought and failed to protect this city we both love. I have seen the southern cities of Drae’Kahn and Avelera crushed beneath creatures whose names I know not. I witnessed a lone wizard pulling dark power and strange ores from inside the very deepest earth to use in order to build soaring dark towers of death and destruction—more frightening even than the Black Arc. All of this as one being looked down on the rest of us like we were mere insects beneath its feet. The darkness comes, a darkness unlike any other. It is anchored within the earth below us and this being, whatever it may be, will pull it free with the sole purpose of using it to subjugate and destroy us all.
I’ve yet to see another path open to us. As it stands today, this will happen. I am as sure of that as I am terrified for us all. Please, listen to me. I have seen the critical split in our future and I believe it lies when you meet your son in an underground ruin. He will tell you this, I quote: “You need to listen to me, Giddeon. You don’t understand what is happening here. Please, you need to leave. Now!” His life or his death will bring what I have written above, but I do not know which. Please, for the future of all our souls, please be sure before you act. I can only tell you that Saleece, Kasik, and a woman I do not know are the ones I sa
w with you when you meet him. You are all in a ruin that looked Dwarven. While the others from Kael’s world are with you, this pivotal event cannot happen. I do not know what Cortina means about your mistake, but please, for all our sakes, do your best to figure it out. You have protected Talohna for so many years and saved us from all types of peril. We believe in you; we always have and we always will. I have faith that you will know what is right.
Goodbye, my friend, and may the gods bless your travels.
Cortina’s Prophet, Zaddyk Lauren
Written by Brother Donis Kincaid
End-Winter, 5025pc
Ember let the words from a prophet who had seen the worst of where Talohna could be headed sink in.
Saleece sat staring at the letter. “Holy Mother Inara,” she whispered. “Father, what in the Nine Hells are we going to do?” Giddeon shook his head. For the first time that Ember could remember, the ArchWizard was obviously at a loss for something to say.
“Giddeon?” she said.
“Yes, Ember,” he sighed.
“Do you think maybe now you can sit back and think about what I know you are planning to do when you see Kael?” she asked, determined to make him see.
He stared at her with a look of total confusion. “I don’t know, Ember. If I misinterpreted what I saw in the past when I was there, and we had the meaning of Kael’s prophecy wrong then... I honestly don’t know what to do. I... I...” he said, trailing off, as if more lost than when he began. Saleece wrapped her arms around him as she sat at the fire. Taking a breath, he struggled to focus. “Zaddyk spoke of a dark energy being pulled from the earth. That threat has to be from Kael.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ember snapped. “All it means is that there is a threat to this world that might come from within the planet. You need to stop blaming Kael for every thing that goes wrong in this world. There are other mystics who use dark magic. You’ve told me so yourself.”
“She is right, Father,” Saleece said. “We have never heard of any mystic pulling magic from the Deep Earth. That could be a new threat decades, even centuries, from now. Kael’s life or death could simply be the active-effect that makes it so.”
