My Name is Ruin

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  Examining the surrounding heights, Pavel saw it was enclosed by the mountain range, with a narrow opening which led to the lowlands beyond. Aside from the peculiar arrangement of the massive stones and abstract designs engraved on some boulders, nothing signified that it was an area worth examining. The unique pattern adopted by the builders of the place could only be understood by them. Such unusual configurations were common in locations of religious or historical significance. The boulders themselves had been roughly shaped into standing rectangular blocks, though whatever marks tools made in the sculpting of the stones had been erased by time and the elements.

  “Well, it’s a dead end,” spoke the bard who was roaming around some of the boulders. “There’s nothing magical here, except for a faint memory of arcane rites of long ago. Not even an ember of magic, just an echo, and these markings are just animal etchings made by mushroom-addled artists.”

  “Here, I think this is supposed to be a bear,” continued Sheqer as he traced one design with his finger. Suddenly, he drew back his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Pavel, noticing the reaction.

  “I believe the blasted things are hollow,” replied the demon with a shrug. “But empty. No magic, no bodies, not even a petrified skeleton inside. Boring.”

  The Azat looked at the stones. They were arranged in two formations. The outer one was a ring of upended rocks enclosing a line of boulders that ended in another row arranged in a chevron form. Before, it was a sizeable though cracked stone dais. Time had not been kind to the platform. Large pieces had fallen from it.

  “There’s something peculiar about the arrangement of the stones. What do you think?” he asked the demon. Pavel assumed Sheqer might know more about such things.

  “The circle with an arrow pointing at that ruined stone table? I saw that already. A design usually meant to channel magic to a determined point. Usually for human sacrifice, but I don’t sense that here. No dark taint. The casting usually starts with a keystone, which in this instance, is a huge one. Obviously hidden somewhere in these boulders. Let me find it,” replied Sheqer with some enthusiasm. The man was starting to realize that the demon was enamored with discoveries and finding strange things which were new to it.

  The bard examined the outer ring of stones one by one, though he kept his hands to himself. Finally, he called Pavel over.

  “Here. See this rock? No markings, except for a shallow cavity. Notice how it perfectly lines up with the starting stone of the arrow? The rest of the stones have those weird depictions of beasts. But I sense subtle magical energy, a remnant of what was here before. Don’t ask me what. I absolutely have no idea,” said Sheqer, who then poked around the shallow depression with a stick.

  “If it was malevolent or demonic in nature, then I’d know. But the damned thing feels nothing like it. Clean, somehow. I don’t like it,” the bard added in disgust.

  The Azat thought about what Sheqer said – the entire structure being designed to be a conduit. Then he turned to the demon.

  “How about you trying to course energy through this keystone? We might learn something,” he suggested.

  “Are you mad? I told you it felt pure, not evil or good. You want me to die? Because I am sure this thing would kick me back to the ether if ever I tried such a foolish and suicidal thing!” exclaimed Sheqer.

  “Forget it. I didn’t expect you to be so upset about it,” replied the Azat calmly.

  “By the Hells, if I didn’t know that you were still ignorant about the finer points of magic, I’d think you were trying to kill me!”

  “I said forget it,” repeated Pavel, ignoring the outburst. His mind was already on how to activate the formation. He didn’t care about Sheqer’s tantrum, though he could see the demon was fuming. Somehow, an impulse within him took over his rational faculties.

  “Step back,” he told the demon. An idea was forming in his mind.

  “What are you going to do?” asked the nervous bard. Pavel noticed the demon seem to use the word Master less and less. “Don’t rush into things!”

  “Neither good nor evil. I guess that’s me then,” the Azat remarked as he released a sizeable amount of power into the waiting cavity. It was the same kind of energy he had discovered waiting within himself. The demon momentarily gaped at the sight before quickly stepping back.

  “You’re crazier than the horseshit man!” shouted the demon as it fled to a safer distance.

  ***

  The Azat inwardly laughed as he fed the magic into the boulder. His own reaction surprised him. He should have been wary. Concerned. Or even tentative about the whole thing. But something in him didn’t care. A trait that a very human thought in his mind emphasized was very, very dangerous. Pavel knew he was being dangerously brash and impulsive, yet he paid no heed to the warnings in his mind.

  The stone hungrily grabbed at the offered energy and the Azat could feel it start to reach inside him. An empty, ravenous maw which needed to be nourished. He quickly cut the connection. The hunger he sensed wasn’t evil or malevolent. It was a natural reaction akin to parched soil suddenly experiencing a poured cup of water.

  Then he realized his connection with the released power was still extant, and the released energy was somehow swiftly connecting the boulders of the outer ring. As it jumped from stone to stone, Pavel sensed it gaining in strength, until it completed the circuit.

  It suddenly flared, and the entire dark mass, now significantly increased in strength and size, raced to the last boulder in the arrow formation. This time, it maintained the connection between the stones as the energy raced to the leading block. A lance of power erupted from the frontmost boulder and struck the ruined dais. Before the Azat’s eyes, the stone platform swiftly rebuilt itself and became whole again. Despite the spectacularly mysterious spell, Pavel remained where he was as he observed what was happening. Strangely, he wasn’t scared. He felt like a spectator.

  “Get back, you moronic excuse for a mortal! The damned thing is dangerous! Even I could feel its dangerous aura from way back here!”

  Pavel heard the demon, but he didn’t sense what Sheqer described as a deadly aura. The air just felt warm around him. Then he sensed a presence on the platform. It was invisible even to the demon. That characteristic, the man knew. The only reason he could perceive its presence was because the energy used for its emergence came from him. The ghostly form of a long-haired woman standing on the dais stared at him. The spirit was clad in full plate armor and held a halberd in one hand.

  She looked furious.

  16

  The Oracle of Shinar

  “A good day, milady. May I ask your name?”

  asked Pavel politely.

  It was apparently the wrong thing to say.

  Somehow, Pavel wasn’t intimidated. He stared back, a wry, crooked grin rising on his face. The specter abruptly disappeared and then was in front of the Azat, though the man noticed the spirit kept within the stone circle.

  But he heard a rustle at his rear, and the fading sounds of feet scurrying away. Interesting, the thought arose in his mind. The apparition must be powerful enough to put the fear of death in a Greater Demon and yet appeared to be bound within the confines of the ruin. However, considering the haste of Sheqer in putting more distance between it and him, its ability to strike must extend beyond the circle of stones.

  The ghostly being continued to stare silently at him. Pavel didn’t budge from his position, the wry expression giving way to the beginnings of an amused one. The Azat reasoned that if the entity wanted to attack him, it could have already done so the moment she appeared. Adopting the stance of the spirit, Pavel also kept quiet as he stared back, though his mind wondered where his clearly foolhardy attitude came from.

  “After all these years, somebody remembered me,” said the spirit finally. She had a pleasant voice, though it had an echoing quality, as if the two were in a large, empty cavern. “And not of the ancient race.”

  “But with a pow
er unwelcome and bound to have consequences,” she added with anger.

  The observation prodded the Azat to answer. It sounded bad. Clearing his throat, he gave a slight bow.

  “A good day, milady. May I ask your name?” asked Pavel politely.

  It was apparently the wrong thing to say. All the Stones immediately crackled with magical energy which focused on the spirit. Her form solidified, and Pavel could now see the woman was gaining a physical form. If she was furious then, the spirit was raging mad now, though the Azat noticed her ethereally beautiful face, framed by silky long black hair was – for Pavel – alluringly whipped by a sudden gusty wind.

  “You woke me, disturbed my rest, and yet you don’t know who I am?” said the spirit in a dangerously cold voice. The man noticed the hand holding the halberd was shaking with the intensity of her emotion.

  Now, what did I do to upset this one? mused Pavel dispassionately. Despite the obviously hostile attitude, the Azat couldn’t bring himself to think of fighting the gorgeous entity.

  “My apologies, milady, but I am totally unfamiliar with your nature and name. These ruins have been here for a long time. A very long time. An unguarded moment of error made me fed this stone with a bit of magical energy,” the man explained hurriedly.

  The woman stared at him again. Pavel could sense magic running all over his body. It was a scrying spell. Quite powerful too, and clearly invasive. Until it reached the doors in the Azat’s mind and was forcibly repulsed. When that happened, the man saw that the spirit winced with sudden pain and stepped back a few paces. The unwelcome intrusion obviously hurt.

  Serves you right for poking into people’s minds, observed Pavel grimly, though his right arm dropped where the arcane blade was hidden.

  “Doors. Shut and warded doors,” remarked the spirit with some effort. Whatever struck back at her must have punished her severely.

  “That wasn’t polite at all,” replied the Azat, trying to sound as casual as possible, though he was starting to be angry too.

  “It’s a covenant of the circle. Anybody who uses it or steps inside its active circumference yields any right to protected minds,” declared the spirit.

  “There appeared to be some loophole in your spell,” Pavel smirked. It was an unfortunate comment which gave birth to an eruption of blazing white energy centered on the woman. Only a fool wouldn’t know who was going to be her target.

  Pavel immediately gathered his own power and prepared to throw a deadly bolt toward the furious entity. Then he noticed that the brightness which was centered on the woman had disappeared. The spirit was looking at her hands with obvious bewilderment. Then she turned her gaze to the Azat.

  “Who are you?” asked the spirit in a tone marked with fear and confusion.

  “I asked you first,” said Pavel with outward calm. He didn’t know what had happened, but it apparently redounded to his benefit. The entity clearly tried to turn him to ashes if he was to judge by the previous display of energy.

  “I am known as the Oracle of Shinar,” replied the woman in a subdued tone.

  “I am known as Pavel Maveth,” replied the Azat politely. Despite everything, he forced himself to be courteous. It was a lady and, notwithstanding her invasive attempt at picking his mind, not to mention an attempt to reduce him to ashes, still a powerful spirit.

  “What are you? You feel and look like a mortal. An Azat of a long-gone Order. And yet…” the Oracle started to say, only to be interrupted by a massive force that smashed her to the ground.

  The violent and unexpected incident surprised Pavel. It looked like something was preventing the spirit from saying certain things. He started to move to help the stricken Oracle, only to be halted by a glimmering barrier to his front.

  “Don’t mind me. Ask your questions and be gone from this place. I don’t know what you really are, but your presence will be the death of me,” cried out the fallen woman, an outstretched palm held out to Pavel.

  The Azat was exceedingly perplexed by the turn of events. He didn’t expect to trigger the emergence of an Oracle, and now the spirit of the place seemed to be hobbled by certain constraints as far as Pavel was concerned. And it appeared to be dangerous limitations for the Oracle. The man guessed that one more error on the part of the spirit would doom it to oblivion.

  “If you’re really an Oracle, then I don’t need to tell you what I am searching for,” replied Pavel, as his suspicious mind fed him the idea that the spirit might not be what she said she was. The painful reaction she had received from trying to probe his mind and venturing into apparently forbidden subjects could be magical punishments for an imposter.

  “Doubt from an Azat. That should serve you well,” remarked the woman as she struggled to stand up, using her halberd as a prop. The comment startled the man. It was the same phrase he heard from Sunor. Surprisingly, the Oracle of Shinar didn’t look injured and her armor was undamaged.

  “Hear me then and depart in haste after my pronouncements. You seek the source of a profane plague, one of the seeds of a greater darkness rising in this world. A temple under the mountains farther west shall you find, awaiting the coming of the Great Hunt. Yet greater answers await to the east, among the ruined remains of a fortress in the Empty Waste, where the birth of an empire of fire and magic waits to be born,” declared the Oracle. Surprisingly, her declarations were made in a firm voice.

  The man stood impassively as the woman made her auguries. All the locations mentioned were unfamiliar to Pavel, and the alluded dark events even more so. He doubted that the Oracle would give him more detailed descriptions. The spirit had been in limbo for centuries and being ambiguous was the trademark of such entities. Her magic could possibly have made her aware of the changes in the land and its people. Still, the unpleasant effects which attended her discussion with Pavel would have dampened any enthusiasm for giving additional knowledge.

  “Before you go, a warning and a task. The use of the power of Chaos in waking my shrine will have an effect on its structure. You have a year to restore whatever damage was done. Otherwise, my curse will pursue you regardless of the favor of any god or spirit watching over your mortal shell.”

  There goes that “mortal shell” again, observed the Azat.

  At those words, Pavel looked at the site and found no visible damage. Puzzled, he was about to tell the Oracle when she abruptly vanished. A few seconds after her disappearance, loud cracking sounds reached his ears. Before his unbelieving eyes, the boulders of the outer ring fell apart and broke into pieces.

  Horseshit, thought Pavel with dismay as disbelief again reigned supreme over his mind.

  ***

  He found Sheqer waiting for him about a hundred feet down the trail, hiding behind a mound topped by tall trees.

  “Well, what happened? You’re one crazy mortal, I’ll give you that. Don’t do that again. Next time, we might not be so lucky,” warned the bard.

  “We better hurry back to the village,” replied Pavel, disregarding any recriminations his mind was telling him to shout at the demon.

  “Why? I thought we were going to comb the area for more clues,” remarked his surprised companion.

  “I broke their site,” whispered the Azat.

  “By all the Demon Primes, you did what?” exclaimed Sheqer. “Those were rocks, Master. Huge ones.”

  “You heard me. Let’s run for it,” insisted the man.

  “We should. We’d be hunted by all the villages in these mountains if they learned it was you. I could already see the arrows sticking out of your back.”

  “If, Sheqer. IF. Keep your trap shut. Nobody would believe I was able to do that unless we admit it. And it won’t only be those tribesmen who would be after our necks, but even the lowlanders too. Especially with their precious festival coming up,” added Pavel in a low voice.

  “Right. Nothing happened. I know what we can do. Let’s blame those capcauns. Those three are dead and won’t talk. Maybe except to a necromancer. I doubt if
anybody would go and ask the rest of that monster band,” suggested the demon quickly.

  “Good idea,” answered Pavel as he hurried down the trail.

  “Anything else? I feel there’s more,” continued Sheqer as he tried to keep pace with the man.

  “Some vague leads about where to go next, and I have to fix the damage within a year. Otherwise, the spirit of that shrine would curse me.”

  “You really know how to stir things up. Again, let me say that you’re making my stay on this world really exciting,” said the bard. “You should invite me along the next time you have an adventure like this one. Makes the prospect of dying entirely worth it.”

  ***

  Fortunately, the route of the pair veered away from the heights of the Stones of Muraybet. Pavel himself doubted if the Altai hunters would be ranging far and wide due to the capcaun presence. It was a fortuitous break in his current streak of luck which, he had to admit, wasn’t ideal. He seemed to have the knack of running into hostile creatures. Now, inadvertently damaging or destroying property could be added to the list.

  As they hurried along the forest trail with the bard in the lead, Pavel wondered about what the Oracle told him. That his enemies were malevolent in thought and design, that fact was clear. Finding them was an entirely different matter.

  He decided to deal first with the temple the spirit mentioned. It was located in human lands, and for now, he didn’t relish the thought of exploring the Empty Waste. The name itself wasn’t an encouraging one, and something genuinely nasty must have turned it into what people called the place now. The barren Plains of Shinar was an example. Yet, a feeling deep inside him told the Azat that the story of the Wastes was a more terrible and forbidding tale.