Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock

by Jak Koke

  know you?”

  “No, but I know you. You are Reid Quo. You and I are of the same brotherhood — the Garen Brotherhood.”

  “Garen? That name is familiar.”

  “Garen Dne was our Elder many years ago. You and he were brothers, and friends as well. You gave him this necklace.”

  Pabl held the Mynbruje pendant up to show Reid.

  The jade statuette glimmered deep green in the dim light as Reid took it gently in the wet palm of his right hand. He bent his head to examine it, a look of recognition spreading across his blank face. “I remember this,” he said. “I will speak with you further.” He dropped the pendant, letting it swing up against Pabl’s chest and moved toward the tunnel. “But this is not the right place. Come.”

  Pabl tasted the bitter disappointment of not merging with Sangolin as he forced himself to turn away from the gray mass. He followed Reid out of the cavern, trying to ignore the ever-waning pull from Sangolin.

  “What is your name?” Reid asked.

  “I am Pabl Evr. I have been searching for you. Our liferock is in danger and we need your help.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “How —?”

  Reid shook his head to silence him. They had reached the end of the tunnel, and Pabl was momentarily afraid that the eight obsidimen who had taken him down from the mountainside would prevent him from leaving. But when Reid led him out into the hollow — darkening sky and blowing clouds of steam aglow with the deep red of the setting sun — no one stood guard at the tunnel entrance. None of the obsidimen paid them any attention.

  Perhaps they assume I merged with Sangolin.

  Pabl looked around for Jan and Celagri, but he didn’t see them in the hollow. They must’ve hidden, he thought. I’ll meet This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  them later at the trail. Now, I must convince Reid to come back to Ganwetrammus.

  The afternoon feasting had stopped. The fire burned low, and obsidimen lounged like fat rats amongst the discarded remnants of the spitted beast’s bones and flesh. The sight disgusted Pabl. How can they live like this? They’re all filthy, smelly and unwashed, eating only the flesh of animals. They are barely obsidimen. Hardly Name-givers anymore.

  Reid led Pabl out of the hollow, toward the cliffs of fire which he had seen many times in his visions. There was a terrible, barren beauty to this place which frightened Pabl. It was an unnatural place; no plants grew here and the rock was tainted by Sangolin. And yet, the crisp red glow of the Scarlet Sea touched something primal inside him. Its heat filled him with a sense of ancient grace, as though molten rock in such a vast quantity were closer to the state of the world at the time of creation. As though the Scarlet Sea was a tiny vestige of the Great Liferock before it split into the myriad of drops which became nature and the universe.

  Pabl looked up from the spectacular view of the molten sea a thousand feet below the rock cliffs. Thick clouds of steam rose from the mist swamps off to his left. And on his right was the great firefall — a river of lava which flowed out of the volcano to plummet over the cliffs into the sea. The firefall was easily a day’s journey away, but it looked huge to Pabl even from this distance.

  Reid led Pabl along the wide cliff ledge away from the other obsidimen. Caves in the side of the mountain served as sleeping quarters for the obsidimen of Sangolin, which again surprised Pabl. Obsidimen preferred open sky and generally avoided living underground nearly as much as they shunned deep water or flying in airships.

  Pabl followed Reid down a narrower ledge and into one of the caves. “We can talk more freely here,” Reid said.

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  Pabl looked around the small cave. A pallet of animal skins served as a bed of sorts, but there was little else in the cave. A glow lantern on the floor and crude burlap curtains which could be closed across the front of the cave, but that was it. Otherwise it was barren rock. No decorations, no personal items. Nothing.

  “This is where you live?”

  “I suppose it is,” Reid said.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Reid looked quizzically at Pabl. “I don’t really know,” he said. “I only remember things in bits and snatches.” Then he lurched forward and grabbed Pabl’s shoulders with surpris-ingly strength. “You say you are from my liferock?”

  Pabl nodded.

  “Then you must know my true name. My obsidiman name.”

  His intensity made his grip tighten on Pabl’s shoulders.

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” Pabl said. “Your obsidiman name is known only to you and Ganwetrammus — our liferock.”

  Reid let him go. “Then I will never know it.”

  “You can and you will. I have come to take you from this place. Together we will travel to the jungle and merge with Ganwetrammus. You are called as one of our Elders, and we need your help. The liferock is in danger. You must feel it. Can you not sense it?”

  Reid nodded, but the deeply etched wrinkles of his face bore an expression of sadness. “I do feel the pain. I feel it every day. Yet, I cannot leave.”

  “Several weeks ago, a mining caravan began digging into the liferock. They chose a particularly vulnerable spot. We tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen to reason, and their mercenary force was stronger than us.”

  “I cannot leave.”

  “There is a way, however. A way to mend the wound in the rock. Powerful magic called the Ritual of Protection will help This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  Ganwetrammus to destroy the miners and repair the damage.

  But both Elders must dance the ritual. Both Elders.”

  “I can never leave,” Reid said, bowing his head. “Never.”

  Pabl took a step back. “Of course you can,” he said. “You must. Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying? Don’t you understand that Ganwetrammus could be destroyed if you don’t help?”

  Reid sat on the animal fur pallet and leaned his back against the wall, saying nothing in response.

  “I will help you escape.”

  Reid’s voice was distant when he spoke again, weak and tired as though speaking were a monumental task. “When Sangolin calls, I cannot resist.”

  “I resisted.”

  Reid looked up at Pabl, anger in his voice. “It let you go,” he said. “But it will call you again. And again, and again until you succumb. One time is all it takes, brother. Sangolin is as patient as mountains.

  “It wants to be a liferock,” Reid continued. “Vecrix is preparing a spell to change Sangolin into something . . . something else. What, I don’t know. Vecrix believes he can make Sangolin into a true liferock.”

  “What?” Pabl took a step back. “That’s not possible.” Liferocks were alive, more than a Gathering. Far more. They were spirit and stone, fragments of the Great Liferock. “It’s not like making a nice urn or carving a statue,” Pabl said.

  “But Vecrix doesn’t know that, or he has forgotten. He wants to use blood magic to tie us all into a massive pattern while we’re merged with Sangolin.”

  Pabl sank to a sitting position on the floor opposite Reid.

  Shocked. An image came to him of fifty or a hundred obsidimen bonded into a single pattern with such a place as Sangolin. Bonded by blood, not spirit. It was perverse. Evil.

  “Whatever is created,” Reid said. “It will be worse than a This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  Horror.”

  Pabl shivered, feeling a sudden chill pass through him. I must get away from this place before I become like the others.


  He looked across the closed space of the cave, trying to ignore the claustrophobia which crept into the back of his mind. “I need to go soon,” he said. “I want you to try to come with me.”

  “I —”

  “No excuses, brother,” Pabl said. “How can you stay here when you know what is happening?”

  “I don’t want to stay,” Reid said. “But I have no choice.”

  Pabl looked at him, his red-striped russet skin dry now from the heat of the Scarlet Sea. “Why can’t you walk away?”

  he asked. “How can Sangolin mean so much?”

  “You can’t understand, brother. You haven’t merged.”

  “Tell me then,” Pabl said. “Tell me what it feels like to merge with Sangolin?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “I just want to know . . .”

  “Some things are best left unknown.”

  “But —”

  “You really want to know, I’ll tell you.” Reid leaned forward, staring down at Pabl with an intensity which was frightening.

  He’s insane, Pabl thought. One moment, he seems fine. The next he nearly attacks me.

  “It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. The anticipation before merging is a sheer rush, but you’ve already felt that.

  When you actually touch it, Sangolin sends wave upon wave of ecstasy through your body. It feels like you become pure spirit energy; it feels like the Passions have aligned and are cooperating to bring you all the pleasure in the universe at that one moment.”

  Reid paused for a breath. “But then you emerge to discover that days have passed, maybe weeks or months. And outside, you’re alone. You feel hollowed out, like a cave. Empty like an This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  urn without water. You don’t remember who you are because your identity is gone. Stolen by Sangolin.

  “This place craves obsidimen,” Reid said. “It uses them up, drains them of their spirit, and effectively kills them in the long run. You’ve seen the others here; they are walking dead, alive only for the merge with Sangolin. Waiting for the call. Always waiting.

  “I was like them until I felt the pain from Ganwetrammus. After that I began to remember things, to piece things together. Sometimes I wish I’d never realized how much of a zombie I used to be.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you why,” Reid said, his anger turning to melancholy. “It’s because I can’t leave Sangolin. I know what it does to me, and I still can’t leave.” He gave a sad sigh and spoke again, his voice low, his gaze on the floor. “I’m addicted, and the realization of that hurts me. Knowing is more painful than not knowing.”

  Pabl stood up, his anger driving him. How much more of these pathetic excuses do I have to hear? He spoke, trying not to shout. “You talk about pain and addiction, of not being able to leave, but I still don’t believe you. If you really wanted to leave, you would come with me. You would take the risk of losing Sangolin to help your true liferock and your brotherhood.”

  Reid shook his head slowly. “Your idealism is touching, brother, but unrealistic.”

  “Enter the self-Dreaming with me, Reid, and you will remember much of yourself. You will know who you are, and you will understand. Afterwards, you won’t hesitate to come back to Ganwetrammus with me.”

  Reid shook his head. “Calm down, Pabl. You are young and know not what you say. Merging with me could be hazardous for you. You would know my experiences, my longing for Sangolin. My addiction. Almost like merging with Sang-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  olin itself. No, it’s too much of a risk.”

  “I am willing to take that risk to save my liferock. Nothing is more important.”

  “I will resist you,” Reid said. “I refuse to condemn you to Sangolin. If you contract my addiction, you’ll never escape.

  Sangolin has altered me so much that even Ganwetrammus couldn’t help me.”

  Pabl knew he could not merge with an unwilling Reid, but he would not be defeated. “Maybe not,” he said, “But the Council of Four could. I visited them to find you.”

  “They knew how to find me?”

  “Yes,” Pabl said. “They knew of Sangolin from two obsidimen who did manage to leave. So it is possible, you see.”

  “What became of these two?”

  Pabl frowned. “The Council was able to give them back some of their memories, but . . .”

  Reid said nothing.

  Pabl turned away from Reid. “The two obsidimen went insane a few years after leaving the Valley of the Elders,” he said.

  “But that doesn’t mean they won’t be able to cure you.”

  Reid leaned back against the red stone wall of the cave and breathed a heavy sigh. “How did you know I was here? Or was that a guess?”

  “The Council of Four had seen you in the memories of the two who escaped, plus Ohin Yeenar had been having visions of this place ever since his liferock died and you came with some others to take away the remnants of their brotherhood –”

  Pabl stopped. A feeling of dread grew inside him. All those obsidimen without a liferock . . .

  Reid swallowed hard, staring at Pabl. “I remember that now,” he said, “though I wish I didn’t. Ohin Yeenar . . . Othellium . . . How long ago?”

  “Eighty years maybe,” Pabl said, choking out the words.

  He looked at Reid, hoping that he was wrong in his suspicion.

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  “The Othellium Brotherhood is here now?”

  Reid gave a sad nod. “Everyone except Ohin Yeenar.”

  “Dis take this place,” Pabl said.

  Reid stood and began pacing back and forth across the small space. “Tell me again,” he said. “Tell me about what is happening with your — with our liferock.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Reid stopped pacing and bent down to stare into Pabl’s eyes. “The rock is threatened by a mining camp, is that what you said?”

  Pabl leaned back, nodded.

  “In a particularly vulnerable place, right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  Reid began pacing again. “Anything else? Anything strange or peculiar?”

  “No, I don’t think so. They came for the orichalcum; Tepuis Garen is rich with it.” Pabl remembered the failed attack on the miners. “Only that they seemed to have a spy in the village — a dwarf who tipped them off to our attack.”

  “Did you see any obsidimen around who weren’t from our brotherhood?”

  “No,” Pabl said. “What are you implying?”

  Reid stopped pacing again, closed his eyes and looked down at Pabl. “I think Sangolin may be trying to destroy Ganwetrammus.”

  Pabl stood up. “What? That’s ludicrous. Impossible.”

  “No, I’m afraid it’s neither. Sangolin has killed liferocks in the past; it destroyed Othellium in fact.”

  Pabl’s muscles tensed up; he felt his whole body become rigid. “But how could . . .?”

  “With Vecrix’s help, and mine, I’m ashamed to admit.

  About five of our original Gathering were from Othellium, and Sangolin wove astral threads through them and their connection to their liferock. It drained Othellium of life energy, ever This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  so slowly. It started before the end of the Scourge, I think, and continued until Othellium was too weak to survive on its own.

  Then Sangolin sent me and some others to gather the desperate, orphaned brotherhood. Sangolin only wanted the obsidimen. It needed more spirits to feast upon.”

 
“That can’t be happening to Ganwetrammus,” Pabl said. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Why not? It makes sense; Sangolin only needs a few more obsidimen before Vecrix performs his spell to make it into a liferock.”

  “We haven’t felt any sort of energy drain or connection to Sangolin. We would know, wouldn’t we?”

  “Ohin Yeenar didn’t know; he still doesn’t.”

  Pabl felt a chill creep along his skin. His spirit sank. Ganwetrammus may be in grave danger, he thought. Much worse than I’d imagined. He tried to speak, but found no words.

  “If Sangolin is using my connection to Ganwetrammus against our liferock,” Reid said. “I don’t know what can stop it.”

  This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com)  Chapter Thirty-One 

  When Pontin returned to the mining camp with his two companions to inspect the progress on the tunnel, Sarbeneck was ready for them. He had made Nancri and the rest work long hours in order to finish the chamber on time. He wanted this business concluded as quickly as possible.

  Pontin and his bodyguards, or whatever they were, met Sarbeneck and Nancri at the entrance to the tunnel. They appeared to Sarbeneck just as they had last time. And even though Nancri was suspicious of them, they looked and acted appropriate to their function.

  Pontin asked Sarbeneck to increase the ork sentry just outside the cave, claiming that he had heard rumors of another obsidimen attack. Then Pontin spun around in his bright blue cape and marched into the tunnel, not waiting for Sarbeneck. His bodyguards followed behind.

  Sarbeneck told Gingreth to double the number of orks standing guard, then entered the cave with Nancri at his side.

  The entire length of the tunnel had been cut smooth on the inside, circular except for the floor. Thin threads of orichalcum 221

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  spiraled back along the slight slant of the corridor.

  The orichalcum filaments would be either ridiculously ex-travagant or a very expensive joke in Throal, but here their presence seemed just plain anomalous . . . unless the chamber was going to be used for magic of some sort.