#cotss

[owlspots-wc]

Rocktalon is just a little creature, she cannot change this

[amusteredmind]

[ubekawateryam]

Consecration of the Seal Sword - Chapter 10

(For more chapters, check out the Masterpost!)

Woah, I didn’t mean to startle you, but yeah, I’m actually already done with the next chapter! Probably the quickest I’ve written in a while. Obviously all thanks to the newcomer this time around.

So, as always have fun reading and feel free to leave me some feedback! Take care and have a great weekend.

Chapter 10

Whatever started the War of the Three to begin with? What malice ignited this fight across time, which holds the world in its grasp and claims the life of so many people that never meant to get involved? Which deity would ever have opened this wound that continues to fester until the end of days?

The truth is: it was Vas. We worship him, alright, but sometimes I feel it's not because he inspires awe in us mortals but fear. And he is well-deserving of fear. Just like fire in a hearth cannot stick to a single shape and keeps flickering, testing its confines, jumping over at the first chance it gets – so is Vas an erratic God who may sometimes relish in destruction when on other days he is gentle and protective of us.

It all started with his sisters, Kin, Daera, and Olphe, who were witty and creative. Thus, they agreed, 'Let us shape this dull and empty realm to our liking. We shall make it vast and beautiful to behold and full of life to watch over and be delighted by.'

Kin was first to work her powers, shaping the earth and mountains, the valleys and hills. Next was Olphe, filling in oceans and rivers for seeds to sprout in the fertile lands of her sister. And then came Daera, breathing the air and singing the winds to bring movement to this yet still world the other two had made.

When all was prepared, they finally called for life. Kin's lone call brought the small insects and spiders and worms, who need only fresh soil to thrive, while Olphe filled the waters with fish and Daera spread the birds' wings to take to the sky. Then, as they called together, the first horses and cows and sheep began to flock together, who need to eat from what Kin brought forth and drink from Olphe's springs and breathe Daera's air. And finally, when all three Sisters gathered atop the Hyperionsfest and called in unison, they shaped the Kolph, harpies, humans, and the Ikanans, who were all so very much like them in the way that they could feel and think.

Thus, creation neared its completion. There was only one thing left to do. Caring deeply for what they had brought forth from mere nothingness, Kin, Daera, and Olphe all joined a fragment of their powers and created the Goddesses' Gift, the Trident of Oreichalcum, which they passed onto the mortals to proper from.

And they might have done just that if not for a jealous bystander to all this: the Sisters' jealous brother Vas.

He was furious and called them selfish for not having considered asking his help in creating the world. Scowling down at mortals, his gaze alone turned lush forests to dust and dried up rivers. But there was only so much he could do as his sisters stood against him in unison and suppressed any further influence of his on their world.

No one knows how long it took Vas to realize that he would never be able to oppose them like this. Yet when he finally figured it out, he took to a new method of inflicting pain upon his sister's creation. Seeking them out one by one, he would act the repenter, trying to reconcile with his darling siblings while praising their great deeds - and telling every single one of them that she was the greatest of all three.

Olphe was quickest to succumb to his compliments and really started to believe herself to be superior to her sisters. When she was confronted by the other two about her pride finally, each claimed Vas' favour and called the other two liars. Tremors shook the earth as Kin was infuriated by her sisters considering her inferior, while Daera lashed out with whipping winds and storms, and Olphe caused great floods all over. Yet the worst catastrophe was when they stopped caring for one another at last and all took to a different realm.

As Kin stayed back on earth, Daera ascended to the heavens, and Olphe hid in the bowels of the earth to reign over her own underworld, the Sister's unison was lost - and the Trident broke apart into three shards, each tainted by the Goddesses' infighting.

The shards were passed onto unassuming mortals, chosen champions of one Goddess. 'Quickly!' each of them called, "Set out to praise my name and these powers I have blessed with you with! Then use them to bring me the other two Tines." Vas' evil plan had come to fruition. The chosen ones did not take long to be corrupted by the Tines' abundant, tainted power and the Goddesses' greedy whispers. They became cursed to desire nothing more than to see the Trident rejoined and claim victory over the other two.

Thus, the War of the Three came into the world – and with it malice, despair, and destruction. Vas watched happily as the mortals took sides and taught them how to create fire to burn down their enemies. Over centuries he became intrigued with the great tragedy he had inflicted upon the world.

Perhaps he knew this might one day well mean its end.

There are two firm beliefs over Hesproys what made him send out his own chosen. There are those who think that eventually Vas' clouded heart became sympathetic for the misery of all those innocent people he had doomed to suffer under the Three's mad rampages, so he became ashamed of what he had done and wanted to fix his mistakes.

And then there's less enthralled people who say that Vas was still not satisfied and grew somewhat bored of watching, so he decided to throw his own little piece into this game for the ultimate power and supreme dominance over the world.

I wonder which is true.

Am I a hero? Or yet another champion of destruction?

* * *

"Hissin' steel, yer gonna cost me a year of my life or two." I open my eyes weakly, treated to the sight of a concerned Sira sitting on my chest. That wasn't her voice, though. As things slowly start to clear up, there's more. The Kolph woman from last night, sitting to my left, peering curiously at my face. And to my right... Phentos! Thank goodness! So it was the right house after all!

My tummy is faster than I can greet him, though, releasing a loud rumble, much to the woman's throaty amusement. "Told'ya the lad would be hungry! Can you get up? I've made some roasted mutton for you. Talking's no good with an empty stomach." I'd eat almost anything right now, so I sit up from the straw-stuffed mattress and take a look around. Looks like the ground floor of the tower, which is far more spacious than it looked from the outside last night.

My eyes already found the bulky table in one corner of the room with a large serving of steaming meat on it, when Phentos says, "He doesn't even know yer name, and already you're cooking him lunch. What am I to think of that, dear?"

"Don't be silly, Phen," she laughs, "Ye think I'd go for Ikanan boys? Doubt he can finish all that mutton by himself. Of course there's some for you, too." Phentos rolls his eyes at the woman, though the corner of his lips are already curled in a joking smile.

"Yeah, but still, he deserves t'know the beautiful cook. Marin, this is my darling wife Khalta. So beautiful she literally swept you off your feet, she tells me." I manage but a pained grin and a mumbled "S-sorry..." in response. Phentos just waves it off and gestures for me to finally have a seat and dig in. I don't keep him waiting any longer. I pretty much gobble down the bites of meat without really chewing them. Belatedly I realize this makes me look even more uncivilised than the two Kolph ripping off bits and pieces with their razor sharp, peaked teeth. But if they notice, they don't mention it.

Eventually, Phentos does speak up, though, "So, um... Sira's mentioned a few things while you were out." I stop eating mid-motion, the next bite off mutton hovering in front of my gaping mouth. Slowly I put the fork down, my eyes following it to rest on the plate as if the words I'm looking for lure somewhere in-between the meat's dripping juices.

Uncomfortable with the situation himself, Phentos continues, "I was surprised to see you again so soon. But to think it really would be the Trident that brings us back together is... frankly, I feel almost a bit guilty."

Surprised, I look up at him. "That sounds like you don't even have a shred of a doubt about what Sira probably told you!"

"And I don't," he tells me with all seriousness and honesty, "Told'ya, the Trident's no laughing matter. And t'think the Fourth's sitting right in front of me, weary and missing his famous weapon, is no good joke either."

"I told him pretty much everything," Sira explains, "We've been up almost all night talking actually."

"Much to my chagrin," Khalta adds.

"Wretched harpies, Daera and Olphe take'em and be quick about it!" Phentos curses. "Can't believe that at a time like this these beasts have to show their ugly faces here again. Had hoped ever since the Second Dawn we'd seen the last of them in these parts."

I can't help but say, "We're in for far worse if we don't catch them and get Selet and the Blade back."

"I'll help any way I can," Phentos promises. But he is avoiding my eyes, his wide face marked with deep pain. Oh no, that's no good sign at all. "However I fear there's not much I can do. Not even had you still the Blade."

"But the Kolph are-"

"Masters of their craft, yeah, yeah. But it takes more than masters to forge a holy weapon. The Blade was lost the moment it snapped. No way would that have happened with a holy sword. I fear its favours have worn off."

"Bu-bu-but then we're doomed!" I stammer, when suddenkly Khalta cuts me off, "Never say that unless you know it, lad! Phen maybe couldn't make a holy blade from scratch, nor could any of the other ironmongers on the mountain, but that's not how the first Blade was crafted either."

"It wasn't?" Sira and I ask almost simultaneously, bringing a faint grin to Phentos' face. Leaning back in his chair, he explains, "Well no. I know some folk talk like they were there at the first Fourth's call to action and saw Vas in person hand over the Blade, but that's shite. Doesn't make a whole lotta sense anyways if you think about it: Vas has no real power in this world. The Sisters made sure of it. But he's a God nevertheless, so he sure knows a good deal more than us. For example what it takes to give a blade an edge that cuts even those chosen by the Goddesses themselves."

"Phen, please," Khalta sighs, "The lad's about to fall outta his chair if you keep teasin' him like this."

"He didn't believe in the War of the Three last I met him, so I gotta make sure he doesn't call me a liar again!" A little embarrassed for lashing out like that he clears his throat before he continues, "Anyways... Vas did not tell the original Fourth to set out and stop the Three. He gave him a trial first, which would determine if he was even capable of leading this fight. And if he proved to be, he would come out of it with the power to truly oppose them: four miracles of the Gods' creation that when applied to decent steel yield the Three's Bane, the Blade of Vas."

"So you're saying," I summarize, "if we got our hands on these four miracles we could turn whatever sword we wanted into a new Blade of Vas?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

"Those are great news!" I exclaim with a renewed sense of hope, " What are we waiting for then? What are these miracles and where to find'em?" Khalta and Phentos both avoid my eyes this time. Not again. With a sigh I drop back into my chair, asking, "Okay, what's the problem this time?"

"Well, for one... we only know about one out of four miracles," Phentos admits. His wife adds, "And furthermore you'd be one lucky bastard to even get your hands on just that one. Say, what do you think is the most precious thing we need here?"

I take a moment to consider, then with a shrug simply answer, "Well, decent ores, I'd guess."

"Pah, ores! The mountain's so full of it we won't run out in the next few millenia." Phentos shakes his head. "Nah, it's wood! Timber. Charcoal. Wooden tools. Seen any forests on the way up here?"

"Well, given what they say about your woods, I wasn't eager to get close to any."

"Good. Us Kolph want no one near the last puny reserves we've got left. Else we'll have razed'em within the next decade. Before the War with the Ellyrûrûnese and the Civil War and all that we already passed down some laws to plant some new trees so we don't run out, but might be that's too late already. Lest Kin's merciful. So you see we've gotta hold'er in high regards and sure are worried about what little green places we still have left."

Not sure that I understand what he's getting at, I ask, "Err, so what's all this got to do with the miracles?"

"One's here. On the Hyperionsfest, smack in the middle of our sanctuary, the First Man's Garden. And no one's allowed to enter, 'cept the High Priests and our Boss Molldum. And I don't see either fetching the miracle from the Garden anytime soon."

"The High Priests are anxious right now," Khalta adds, "That little prophecy of yours seems to have leaked here and now they're convinced the world's about to end."

For once, I don't quite see the problem with that, "Well, then we'll talk to them and convince them to help us! It's high time this damn title came in handy." Khalta and Phentos exchange a long, sceptic look. The smith just shrugs his shoulders. "Well, can't hurt trying. And if it does, then a Kolph gotta take that, too."

"He's no Kolph, though," Sira and Khalta point out, which Phentos just shrugs off as he suddenly grabs my arm and drags me out. Damn, I think trying's hurting already!

* * *

"We best see the Boss first," Phentos says while taking me through the city like some small, lost kid. Though to the Kolph I might look just like that. Now that it's day outside, the city is far busier. I could swear every shade of colour there is in the world is present in at least one Kolph running up and down the stairs of the complex maze of scaffolds. At a few designated spots large pulley constructions lower metal cages deeper into the cleft where rails and minecarts are being pushed about. The air is thick with the noise of hammers on freshly smelted welds and lots and lots of shouting to coordinate the thousands upon people at work here.

"Highly likely at least one of the High Priests will be with Molldum," Phentos goes on meanwhile, "They've always liked pestering him, but now they're almost relentless."

"It's for the best," I say, trying to make out where we're going, "That way we can kill two birds with one stone. Quite literally, cause I'd love picking these she-vultures from the sky and get back Selet and Dūs."

"So that girl you were searching for back at Keslynth was actually the Princess, huh?"

"I couldn't believe it either at first. Though trust me, she acts the part when you get to know her." A little too much at times. Though that coming from me, who can't be trusted with decision-making it seems, sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?

Phentos laughs at what I said. "In some regards all women can be princess of their own little kingdom. Don't tell my wife I said that, though! Bwahaha!"

It's then we come by the city entrance again. I didn't notice last night, but the marble frame of the tunnel is actually richly decorated, full of old, masterful carvings and lettering I have never seen before. Right above the tunnel is a carving of two Kolph wearing crowns and carrying hammers, their backs turned to each other. One of them seems to be going away, his head held proudly and lips tightly pressed together, while the other is staring at the ground in shame.

I'm about to ask Phentos for the story behind this picture when a guardsman suddenly emerges from the tunnel, carrying something with him. No wait, not something. Someone! "Dūs!" I gasp and have Phentos let me go to hurry over to him. Gods, he looks horrible! There's claw marks all over his arms and face. Some of the blood looks like it's still fresh!

"Olphe, hold back, what happened to you?!" I ask when I get to him.

"You know'im?" the guard wants to know.

"That's my comrade! We got separated on the way. Dūs, please, can you speak?!" He answers me in a coughing fit, drops of blood flying from his bruised lips. That looks really bad. But then he manages to speak, his voice hoarse and little more than a whisper, "Marin... fine... I'm fine."

"You're fine my ass!"

"Harpies... there were harpies. They had Selet... I wanted..." Another coughing fit shakes his body so hard he almost drops from the guard's arm. I take over. "We're gonna get you patched up right away!" I promise, "And we're gonna ask the Kolph to help rescue Selet!"

"No," he croaks, "You don't... need to. She's safe... I... I distracted them long enough. She got away."

"To where?" I ask impatiently, "Dūs, where is Selet?!"

"Don't... don't know. Had to fight for my life... after all." Something akin to a sarcastic grin flashes across his beaten face. His eyelids are flickering. "No, don't fall asleep now!" I beg, "We'll get you somewhere quiet, where we can tend to your wounds!" Expectantly I look at Phentos.

"Hey, you don't need to ask!" he replies, "Me and Khalta will get him back to health in no time." But Dūs has other ideas, "No... no need. Just... something to eat. These bruises don't matter."

"Stop saying that!" I snap, "I'm surprised you're still alive after all you went through!"

Phentos is with him on this one, though, "He seems tough. He'll pull through for sure. And if he's just hungry for now, let's get'im something to eat! There's a food stall nearby, so we don't need to pester Khalta again. Follow me!" Well, all after the fearless leader then. Or in other words: Let's see how fast he'll lose me given that I've just got twice the load to carry than before. You can act all tough and cool, Dūs, but you sure as hell don't fool me when you're resting on my back like a full sack of potatoes. That food stand better have some magic beans on sale that get this Vas-Ikanan back into peak condition!

* * *

Thankfully it's really not that far. Just buzzing with customers. Looks like people working in the mines and the one odd palmer here and there who knows that even Kin's blessing won't fill an empty stomach. I follow in Phentos' wake, swaying a little from side to side as Dūs' limp weight shifts clumsily on my back. "You still awake?"

"Yeah," he replies in a voice that I would expect when pushing my ear against a tombstone. I've seen actual dead people in better shape than him, though, so...

Something thick and leathery brushes my foot then, perhaps someone's tail. The fact of the matter is I'm losing my balance and try my hardest to somehow regain it – and all that my effort yields is me tripping full-force into the people standing in line. "Sorry, sorry, my bad!" I cry, shifting awkwardly on my legs to manage two amazing feats at once: not letting Dūs hit his head anywhere or causing even more trouble. The latter barely matters as the angry grunts and the sounds of full bowls being knocked over tells me. I... better get out of here!

"Err, I-I'll look for somewhere to sit down!" I let Phentos know when I run by him and away from the angry mob at my back as he's ordering. When a short while later he tracks us down with a big, steaming bowl of thick soup in his hands, his mouth is set in a thin line that is probably supposed to tell me 'This is the last time I'm taking you out to lunch'. O-oh well.

Once we confirmed that Dūs is actually able to hold the bowl himself and he is hungrily gulping it down, it's our turn to fill him in on what's going on. He brushes off his lips with his shredded gauntlet and says, "You really make me believe again that Vas is watching out for you. Even when you're wrong, you end up in the right place at the right time."

"It's more like 50:50 fortune and really bad luck with him," Sira corrects him pertly. She speaks truthfully, though.

"The same kinda seems to go for you, though, Dūs," I add, "Without you Selet would have been at Dyonix' mercy within a few days. Thanks."

"No need to thank me. It's what I was trained to do."

"No, seriously. You weren't trained to clean up the Fourth's short-comings. If not for my headless behaviour back there, she wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place." I clench my fists tighter. "But I don't think she's safe yet. You really don't know where she went?"

Angrily he furrows his brow. "As I said, sadly no. While we may see more than others, even us Shadowless don't have eyes growing on our back, Marin."

"Okay, okay! Sorry, it's just... gah, this just isn't calming me down, even though it should! I fear she might get captured again any second now, if I don't hurry and go looking for her! And then it'll be my fault again..."

"Marin, don't try and shoulder this all yourself-"

"I mean I'm supposed to be the Fourth! And I can't even protect one girl!" I snap, gaining me a few bypassing Kolph's questioning glances. Sira shakes her little head. "Yeah, keep that up, and those High Priests might be expecting us with a welcome buffet. Just stay calm, pay these big cheeses a visit, and kindly ask if they could still go looking for Selet even when there might not be a free harpy roast in it for'em."

"Oh, I'm sure the Boss will be all over it," Phentos thinks, "So long as you don't cause a ruckus there, too."

* * *

The Boss' place is somewhat out of the way of the city. On those last few miles, that I gladly don't have to spend carrying Dūs around anymore, the cacophony of the city dwindles slowly until we come to a building significantly more pompous than any other house I've seen here. Two heavy, tall statues and two extended flowerbeds flank the long stairs leading up to the open gallery in front of the palace entrance. Aside from the guards there's three other people, looking over the balustrade, only two of them being Kolph. All three of them are dressed similarly, in long, dark robes with brown and dull-green accents.

"The priests?" I assume in a whisper. Phentos nods his head and swallows a curse. "The entire bunch of them," he hisses, "This is gonna be difficult." Walking up the stairs I can't help but throw them glances again and again. And one of them at least returns the favour, outright staring at me with that holier-than-thou look that I have seen on Orson's face a couple of times. But this person has perfected it. Unlike all the other Kolph women I have seen in the city, she is not tall at all, but rather stubby, and her face almost resembles a toad's.

The pillars shift as we continue on, hiding the priest before revealing the next. The other Kolph is no taller than toad-face, but while looking just as uneducated in smiling, he at least has an air of deserved authority about him. Not that it measures up against the last priestess'. Dūs stops one step behind me when he sees her. A tall Vas-Ikanan woman with a long, sharply-outlined face, which is half-hidden under the silky black hair spilling from her loose cap. Her pointed ears are long and thrust almost perpendicular from her skull as if to catch any single sound around her. Yet she regards Dūs, Phentos, and me but briefly and averts her ebony face again, until all I can see in that profile of hers is the golden gash across the bridge of her nose.

"I didn't know there would be any High Priests who aren't Kolph," I say to Phentos.

"She's one of few exceptions. High Priestess Basgorn  studied diligently under the late High Priest Fabis and spends much more time travelling to other Loquies than tending to the sanctuary like Armos and Mophla do. Mophla's the small one."

"A charmer from the start, that one."

"You don't want to get on her bad side. She's the eldest out of the three and always has the final say."

Calculating my chances of winning her over, I ask, "Your Boss' word still counts for more than hers, right?"

"I wouldn't bet on it." Great. Then let's hope I can get to these three's religious fervour and convince them that letting me into their sanctuary is literally what God wants them to do.

"Dūs, you coming?" I call for the Shadowless when he is still not moving, staring over at the other Vas-Ikanan. "Dūs?" I repeat and finally he snaps out of it. Without another word he catches up to us.

Not just the priests have been eying us warily but the guards, too. "What business do you have here?" one of them wants to know.

"We're here to see Boss Molldum to ask permission to enter the First Man's Garden," Phentos says, much to the guards' dry amusement, "Joking, ain't ya?"

"We're very much not," Dūs answers in Phentos' place, his face stern and challenging. "I would not want to discuss such important matters on the doorstep but if you must know..." He gestures to me. "This boy is the prophecised hero, the Fourth of our time-" He is cut off as one of the guards bursts into laughter. The other looks anything but delighted, however. With a half-hearted hit to the chest he tells his colleague to shut up, before he says, "Any proof for that? We don't take kindly to pretenders, y'know." I almost wince as for a brief moment that word brings Kora's triumphant face back to my mind.

"Sira, if you would so kindly." The víla comes out of my pocket begrudgingly. "The víly don't befriend just anybody as your people should know very well. It may not prove that he is the Fourth, but I think it warrants the Boss' attention," Dūs says. The guards exchange an unsure glance. Then they suddenly make way.

"Not so quickly," a voice calls then. Urgh, it's the High Priests. And the speaker no doubt is that frog-faced hag Mophla. She leads the trio over to us. Her green lips are curled in anger. "What makes you think it's the Boss' decision who's allowed to enter our sacred garden?!"

Armos tries to dispel some of the sudden tension, "We could not help but overhear your plea." His face doesn't look any happier than Mophlas, though. "If you really seek entrance to our sanctuary, you best ask us for permission as well."

"Let us discuss this inside," the lone non-Kolph Priestess, Basgorn, suggests. Out of the three she looks the calmest, almost respectfully friendly. "We shall accompany you to the audience chamber."

"I should tell you that the Boss actually isn't here," one of the guards mentions at that, "But in his absence his daughter Aigavlov is in charge."

"We're honoured just the same that you would hear us," Phentos thanks him. But whatever animosity between us and the guards is slowly fading away, I can feel thickening at my neck as the High Priests follow us to the audience chamber, a small side-room brightly lit from a large, open gallery to our side. At the back wall a wooden throne sits empty atop a small dais. Just as we enter, however, the back door opens and in comes a stiffly walking Kolph girl – which is hardly noticeable, as she is still at least a head taller than me. A thin silk dress adorns her relatively slender frame and her claws shine like polished ivory. Hands tightly put together she bows softly and slowly takes a seat on the throne which proves to be a little too wide for her figure.

She can't quite keep her eyes on us as she greets us in a warm voice, "I welcome you in the name of my father Molldum, Boss of the Kolph of the Hyperionsfest. I am Aigavlov, his daughter. My father is sadly not in the city as of now, so I am replacing him for now. Who would you be?"

"I'm Phentos. And these are my friends Marin, Dūs, and Sira, the víla. These three have braved the climb from the foot of the mountain to stand before you and ask your assistance."

"W-well... for such a formidable task how can we Kolph help you?"

"There's two things actually," I take over for Phentos, "On the way up here we were actually attacked by harpies-" I'm cut off by a low gasp of the priests and Aigavlov. Armos stutters, "H-harpies? Is that true?!" His scales seem to have lost all colour suddenly. Who knew harpies put the fear into the hearts of Kolph?

"Well, yes, we were quite surprised ourselves... thing is, they actually kidnapped one of our comrades." I pause. Is this really a good idea? It's bad enough we're going to roll with the crazy idea that I'm really the Fourth... but Selet and Halsänn had been so careful earlier to try and not leave a single trace, so should I really tell them about the princess? I look to Dūs for help. C'mon, you know how to work your silver tongue ten times better!

But even he is somewhat at loss for words for once, "Ahem... indeed. A girl of fifteen years with rich brown hair and olive-coloured skin. The harpies abducted her in their ambush."

Basgorn cocks a brow."Why would they do that?" she asks. Crud, I knew someone would. Guess there's really no way around the truth, huh? Alright, deep breath. "Well," I begin, "this girl, you see... would be Selet Ardorakk, the Princess of Cardighna."

"Enough with your lies already!" Mophla snaps, "Aigavlov, these people are not to be trusted! At the doorstep they said they also want to enter the sacred garden, and this boy claims to be the Fourth! We will not have heretics like these come here and disrespect the Gods in such a way! They should be arrested or banned from the city!"

"But it's the truth!"

"Prove it then!" yells Armos, "Or do you expect us to just believe you like that?!" Of all people it's a priest who is crying for proof. What should I tell him, though? I don't have anything to show that would actually prove any of the things we said! If at least we still had the prophecy, then maybe-

"Read this scroll then," Dūs suddenly says, pulling just that from under his tabard. Al'Hazharla's scroll! The prophecy! "Why do you- When did- Has Selet given it to you?!" I stammer. He ignores me and hands the scroll over to the High Priests. "Read it carefully," he tells them.

Just in that moment, one of the guards comes running in. "Err, sorry, but there's someone else who wishes to see you, your majesty! He doesn't want to wait, says he's a noble from the Ranges."

"Oh Gods, not another one," the Boss' daughter groans, clearly already overburdened with just us disturbing the peace and quiet of a city where there's a forge and an anvil at every corner. "He will have to learn some patience. Please tell him I am still very busy and will see him when-"

"Your majesty Aigavlov!" someone suddenly bellows from behind the guard. Pushing the Kolph aside, a freshly-matured man of medium height struts in, thin nose held so high, that the pointy, crooked cap atop his auburn hair is about to fall off. He is wearing a billowing, dark-green cloak, stitched with intertwined patterns at the bottom, as his pointed boots create a distinct clicking sound with every long step he takes towards Aigavlov. Who's this goofball?

"Pardon me rushing in like this," the young man immediately starts talking, while everyone else is still too perplexed or caught up in reading to respond to this offense, "But I am here on an important mission and-" He breaks off as he notices Dūs, Phentos, Sira, and me, and his bright, fervent eyes widen at the sight. He's pointing at me out of the blue and screams, "I know you! You're that brat who stole my soup at the food stand earlier!"

"Eh?" is all I can get in, before he suddenly jumps me and pushes me onto the floor. I grab his hands to get him off me, but when that turns out useless, I bring up my knee to knock the wind out of him. Auburn-Hair gives off a groan, but won't let me go. "'the hell is wrong with you?!" I croak while we are brawling all throughout the audience chamber.

"Pig steel'n cold embers, will you two knock it off already?!" Phentos snaps at us, and we freeze mid-motion, with our hands at each other's throat. "If you wanna wrestle, sod off to the fighting pits!" Rubbing her temples in frustration, Aigavlov sighs, "Olphe's sake, what is going on today...?"

"Ah, yes, yes, my bad, your majesty! Apologies," Auburn-Hair says and finally gets up. Leaving me in the dust, wishing that this weirdo gets locked up in the nearest cell before he actually kills someone in his insanity.

"Allow me to introduce myself, before I get to the point," he says with an overly gracious bow and a flap of his cloak, "My name is Ralph Sturmbock, son of Gordan Sturmbock of Kesselrode. I come to you with a plea of the utmost urgency!"

"Oh great, another one," Aigavlov grumbles before clearing her throat. "Well then, how may the Kolph of the East aid you?"

"Well, I would not want to waste your time with long explanations so I will get right to it: our lands currently have a bit of a problem regarding... well, a growing number of trespassers from beyond the Ranges. Cholgans, it seems, who have been raiding the nearby villages and are pushing westwards. It shames me to admit, but House Sturmbock just hasn't got the military capacities to detain them all by ourselves and our liege lord of Frigus has been a bit neglecting of helping us. Might be they're in a tight spot too, but y'know, Ikanan pride or whatever. Hence I came here to ask for your strongest men and, if you'd be so good, a large delivery of weapons to arm them and our own forces with."

"Hey, what about us?!" I ask, "We were here first!"

"You're thieving scum! Why should you be listened to?!"

"What are you even talking about? I never stole anything! Least of all from you! I don't even know you!"

"Trust me, I remember your face! You're the guy who bumped into me at the stand earlier and next I know you had taken the bowl of soup I was just to dig in! ... Not to mention, you got some on my cloak, so I had to get changed. If anything, I would have been here first anyways had it not been for your meddling!" Oh no. So he was there when I lost my balance while carrying Dūs. But seriously? Because of one serving of soup this guy is making such a fuss?!

"I had my hands full with the person on my back, if you remember," I counter anyways, "Besides I wouldn't need to steal! I've got enough money right here in my-" Or maybe I don't. Cause when I grab into my purse for a few coins, there aren't any. What the- I didn't spend that much! There should be plenty le- "The harpies!" I realize suddenly. Damn, they didn't just take the Blade! Right, they were digging through my stuff so they just went ahead and took the money as well. Make that two punches to Kora's face if I ever meet her again!

But for now I've got this goof to contend with. Though maybe not in fisticuffs. But he looks just about ready to get back to our little brawl when Aigavlov suddenly goes, "I can't do this! For Kin's sake, this is too much! All of a sudden all you people come here wanting help, right as my dad's not here to deal with you!"

"C-calm yourself, my child," Armos says, sticking his head out from the High Priests huddled together over the Ta'Mih scroll. Neither Basgorn nor Mophla seem to have taken much notice of anything since laying eyes on it. "We are here to advise you. Regarding both these solicitors."

"Yes, I know. But don't you think it's weird? My father has never been gone this long when he visits the summit." At that, Basgorn looks up from the parchment as well. With a deep frown she ponders, "Mayhaps something is keeping the Boss. I do not mean to worry you, but it is a treacherous path to the summit."

Armos agrees, "True... I didn't think much of it until now but Molldum has been gone an awfully long time now."

"Say no more!" Ralph bursts out with a boast, "I shall venture after the Boss to see if he is alright and prove to you that House Sturmbock is indeed a trustworthy ally, should you so kindly decide to help with our own predicament. My comrade and me shall be swift and will return with the Boss in no time!" Oh no! Now this guy is trying to steal the show! I can't let him get on the Kolph's good side alone!

"We'd be honoured to lend a hand as well!" I thus proclaim.

"Oh yeah? Think there's more to snatch after you got the better of me this one time?" Ralph snarls lowly. I answer him in a quick, murderous glance only. Dūs is sighing behind me regardless. Then he puts in, "We are rather short on time as is. If Prince Sturmbock is tending to the matter of the Boss' whereabouts already, I think things are well taken care off. We would not want to delay our visit to the First Man's Garden if the High Priests granted us permission."

"Tell you what," Mophla says, "If you bring back the Boss and get him to let you lot into our sanctuary, then it will be fine by me as well. This scroll proves little, but we will give you the benefit of a doubt. Right, Armos and Basgorn?"

"You are the eldest, your word is law," both reply at the same time. High Priestess Basgorn has further to say, though, "That's regarding your plea to enter the sanctuary. I remember you also wanted us to look for the kidnapped princess."

I nod my head. "Yes. Well, as far as we know she might have escaped them already. But the Hyperionsfest is dangerous nevertheless and these harpies are quick, so any help finding her and bringing her to safety would be much appreciated. Sorry for asking so much of you." I direct that to both the priests and Aigavlov. Basgorn answers me with a gentle smile, "Do not seek forgiveness. Asking for help is no bad deed. Denying someone help is."

"Thank you. We'll get the Boss back as quickly as possible!"

"Not if I get there first," Ralph says.

I'm filled with determination as I promise him, "We'll see. But I'll make sure you get a front row seat." It's a miracle he doesn't throw a punch at me right then.

[ubekawateryam]

Consecration of the Seal Sword - Chapter 8

(For more chapters, check out the Masterpost!)

Here we’ve got the next chapter! Sorry for taking so long on it, but as compensation it’s a really long one this time featuring a couple new characters~. As always, hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter 8

The door to Aaron's chambers slams shut behind us. I'm so confused, however, that it takes me a few more steps up the staircase until I really grasp what just happened. And how much I gotta vent, "W-what the hell was that just now?!"

"Why did you have to turn around?!" Selet demands to know the same instant, her voice almost cracking.

"Excuse me?"

"I had intended to only kiss you on the cheek!"

"Oh~, my mistake then!" I snark, "See, it's not like I was kinda taken aback by the Princess of Cardighna suddenly going 'By the way, that's my beloved'. No, I just figured to go along with this insane stunt!"

The colour of her flushed cheeks is spreading to the rest of her face quickly. "What else was I supposed to do?! He saw us! Someone knows we're in the castle, so I had to buy us time! At least now he will stay put and maybe throw a tantrum or two before mentioning this to anybody. It was the best diversion I could think off at the time." I don't quite know why, but somehow that last bit strikes me like a flail. A diversion. Seems to me more like someone figured this might be as good a chance as any to brush off a pushy suitor. And sure, why not take advantage of the clueless country boy who happens to be there?!

Noticing my angry scowl, she says, "Please don't give me that look. It was only a kiss, right?" If she wants to lighten my mood, it's not working.

I take a deep breath. "So... all an act then, right?" She gives me a pained look. Or is she mirroring what my face looks like?

"Yes," she huffs after an awkward pause, "We've barely known each other for more than a week." She keeps her mouth open as if to add something – but then just shakes her head. "We must focus. We will barely have enough time to search the Library anymore. Eventually Aaron will spill the beans, and then it will not be long before my aunt and whoever summoned Cheeta catch wind of our presence."

"So how we gonna do this?"

"I'll take you to the Library, so you can start searching. Meanwhile I will need to get help. There are a few friends left inside these walls I can rely on. I'll send them your way, while I go see if my father is here. Until I return... do not run into anybody. Don't draw attention in whatever way!"

"I get that I have to be careful! For Kin's sake, Selet, am I just a stupid errand boy to you?!"

She flinches. "N-no! It's just that... something went wrong already. And that's not your fault... I... I'm sorry I dragged you into this." Then suddenly she turns around and runs off. What's gotten into her now?!

"Selet, wait!" But she doesn't listen, just storms off like that into one of the corridors, leaving me behind on the staircase. Damnit, girl! I'm about to go after her, yet I immediately freeze, when a certain voice jeers from my pocket, "Man, watching you two can be so painful and enjoyable at once. It's like seeing months pass within seconds with how fast you're going through the emotions." Crud, Sira! I completely forgot she was there!

"W-what are you talking about?!"

"You two really gotta work on your communication. You get into your first fight right after that heart-warming first kiss." Oh, so she saw that, too. Great. Now I'll never hear the end of it. I sigh, "Sira, we've just clarified this. It was an act. She just wanted Aaron to get off her back."

"So, you're telling me, if it had been Halsänn with her in that room rather than you, she'd have done the same?"

"What?! No! That wouldn't have been believable at all!"

She snickers at that, "Ah, so you thought it was real, too! And now you're mad because the pretty noble lady says it wasn't."

"What- No, I- You're just interpreting this as you see fit, aren't you?!"

"Give me some credit, Marin! I recall that I foresaw that the Princess and you had something going on. That little note wasn't just all business I can plainly see now." She sighs. "A shame you're such a klutz at using all these great opportunities you're given."

I'm getting fed up with this. "Sira," I hiss, "If you want to give me some bullshit advice, then at least make sure I've got a clue what the hell you're talking about!"

"You made her angry and sad, you doofus! You were really confrontational back there and basically made her say it was an act, and then you got even more pissed off. That girl tried opening her heart for you and that's how you repaid her?!"

"... I... I don't like being taken advantage of. Besides that was... my first." I just know I'm blushing. Gods damnit.

"Really? I couldn't tell with how confused it got you."

"Just shut up, Sira!" I snap, "This is none of your business anyways!" Finally she figures that I've had it. She slumps back into my pocket, whispering, "... Sorry. I just wanted to help. Nevermind, let's find out where Selet ran off to."

"There is no need for you to do that." I jump at the sudden voice of a young man. As if he had been living within them for all his life, an Ikanan separates himself from the shadows in the hallway at the staircase's end. Damnit, already found out again?! Wait a second... he's not just an Ikanan, he's a Vas-Ikanan! His face is angular and pointed, with strong cheekbones beginning to become apparent under his ebony skin. Yet most distinctive about him are the yellow stigmata running down his cheeks, making him look older than he actually is. There's another on his forehead, shaped like a tipped over crescent and any bit as bright as his silver eyes, which are remaining firmly on me.

"You seem surprised," he observes. How astute of him. "Come to think of it, I don't remember ever having seen you inside these walls."

"Err, well, you see..." Shit, what do I say now? "I'm... an emissary from the Poor Knightly Order of Doarnb, supposed to deliver a message to Aaron... Rosso." That was his uncle's last name, right? Probably not, judging by this guy's unconvinced look.

But then his lips curl into an amused smile and he laughs, "Selet's right, you are a quick thinker."

"Wait, you know Selet?"

"Did she not tell you she would get help? The name's Dūs, pleased to make your acquaintance." He holds out his hand to me. It's only now I notice his odd looking outfit, consisting almost entirely of dark leather pieces and tight fitting light-weight cloth. Even his boots are enforced with leather and resemble socks more than an actual shoes. Then there's his grey tabard, decorated with one big, circular symbol: a curled up centipede with a skull-shaped head with one large eye on its forehead.

"That's the Shadowless symbol!" I gasp when I recognize it. I stare at Dūs questioningly. "But Selet said... there were none of you left."

He draws back his hand I never shook, the same instant returning to a neutral frown. "Technically none," he explains, "Yet there were a few people who could escape the Inverted King's clutches... and continued to serve the Royal family faithfully. Consider me the last remnant of our once proud and numerous order."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to- I was just surprised is all-"

Thankfully he cuts me off before I can make any more of a fool of myself. His cold, apathetic tone of voice drenches me in guilt nevertheless, "It's nothing. Little that we can do to change it now, is there? Now follow me, I was instructed to safely guide you to the Royal Library and aid you in your search for the Blade of Vas."

But just after the first few steps Sira asks completely out of the blue, "And you can actually prove you're Selet's friend?" Dūs stops dead in his tracks. I can see him growing tense by the way his shoulders stiffen under his gear. Y'know, Sira might have a point there's something fishy about this guy. And I would have walked right into that trap again.

There's a conniving grin on his face, when he turns around. Damnit! So he really is-

"I heard Aaron didn't really like that message you delivered to him," Dūs says, and I stop short of just drawing my sword here and now. "But according to Selet, you weren't all that thrilled either about what happened in his chamber." His face lightens with honest amusement. "Will this do to dispel your doubts?"

Oh Vas, so he knows about the kiss, too! That's almost worse than if he had been a liar. A little flustered, I huff, "You... you really had me on the edge there just now..."

"That's just what us Shadowless do," he quips, "It's a welcome relief from being sneaky for the sake of driving a dagger into someone's back." The way he just says that, still smiling, is sending shivers down my spine. I can't tell if that's another joke or not.

His smile disappears, however, and suddenly I am dragged into the sheltering shade of a gallery arch. I haven't even noticed the sounds of someone suddenly running down the hallway and right past us. It's Aaron! Done brooding I guess, but to be in a hurry like that – could it be he's going to alarm someone?!

"We need to go after him!" I decide.

"But what about the Lib-"

"I won't pass up a chance to find out who's behind all this!" The look he gives me is almost angrily pleading for me to reconsider. Then he gives a stern nod and grabs me by the wrist as we go after Aaron, moving from hiding spot to hiding spot under Dūs scouting look of calm determination. But it does us little good, since Aaron is getting further and further from us. Dūs seems to know where he is headed, though.

Our chase comes to a sudden halt, just when we've made it to our next safe spot: behind a human-sized, painted vase next to an intricately carved, heavy wooden door. Aaron has literally run into someone else meanwhile.

"Hey, hey, pay more attention to where you're going, boy," a disgruntled middle-aged woman's voice echoes throughout the hallway.

"I must apologize for his rashness, milady. He can be rather unperceptive of what is right ahead of him at times," another voice, calm and belonging to a man her age, responds in Aaron's stead.

"Well, seeing as it is him on the ground rather than me, I shouldn't make a fuss about it. Just see to it that your nephew may learn to rely more on his eyes."

"I-I will, milady Ardorakk!" Aaron promises flustered.

"Since he is apparently in quite a hurry to speak with you, Lord Rosso, I think I will leave you two to it then."

"We shall continue our discussion some other time. Again, I am very sorry."

"Don't worry, I barely felt it. I got these scars from far worse run-ins. Anyways, fare ye well."

"As do you, Lady Ardorakk." For a moment no one says a word while the woman's steps slowly grow quiet. Aaron's uncle... so that must be Dyonix Rosso then. But who was the woman? Lady Ardorakk – so Selet's mom? Or... her aunt Petahra.

"Now, may I know," Dyonix asks his nephew in a less and less patient voice, "what has gotten you so worked up?"

"Selet... t-the princess... she's here, uncle! In the castle!"

"What did you say? But I- hush, you, this is best discussed elsewhere. To my study!" I see Dūs face go pale the moment he says that. Grimacing nervously he nods towards the door, and with Dyonix' and Aaron's footsteps approaching it finally sinks in what has gotten into him. Crap, they're headed right this way!

Dūs practically pushes me through the door before slipping in more silently than anyone should be able to, given this turn of events. The study turns out to be just part of an entire apartment, sprawled out over two floors. A steep, wooden staircase leads further up, with some of the light from the large, diamond-pane window above spilling down to the entrance. I can almost hear someone pushing down the door handle behind us already when Dūs quickly points me to hide in the small, dimly lit private library right behind the giant desk and bookshelf. I wonder if this is starting to become a regular occurrence for me.

"Today's just one thing after another," Dyonix takes the words right out of my mouth upon entering his study. With a frustrated sigh he lets himself drop into a chair, creaking in protest. "Now, how come you know Selet's here? I wasn't informed of her return."

"I don't know either! She was just there in my room all of a sudden with this other boy and-"

"A boy? Who?"

"His name was Marin or something like that," Aaron says with contempt. "A blonde Ikanan with a sword at his side and dressed like a peasant. They were covered in dirt when I met them, and the princess also was dressed like a traveller."

"I see... sounds like they snuck in somehow. Damnit! So, where are they now?"

"Err... I... I don't know to be honest-"

"What do you mean you don't know?! Haven't you tried to keep them busy or something before you ran to me?"

I can practically smell Aaron getting more and more flustered, the longer this conversation goes on. Chuckling nervously, he tries to explain, "W-well... you see, I, err... kicked'em out... and... when I left my room, they, err, were gone... already."

"Already," Dyonix echoes sceptically.

"I-I was... a little... you see, they..." He huffs. "The princess has said No to our possible engagement! And even said she was with this... this... green-eyed mongrel!"

"Great, and because of that you let her escape yet again, you dunce! The Gods know where they are now! If Gustere wasn't out on the hunt, we'd be..." Suddenly Dyonix stops talking mid-sentence, much to Aaron's bewilderment. "W-what's wrong, uncle?" he asks.

"Nothing, Aaron. I'll give you one more chance. Go and catch these two lovebirds. Don't bungle it again!"

"I-I won't, uncle! I'm on my way!" He doesn't leave just yet, though. "S-say, you think they might be in the library? Because of that book you mentioned-"

"Aaron, go."

"Yes, uncle!" Just as Aaron is out the door, Dyonix sighs once more. "Good-for-nothing can't do anything right on his own." The chair is creaking yet again. Sounds like he's taking a few slow steps. "Now then, with my incapable nephew out of the way... how long do you intend on staying hidden, boy?" Huh?! How'd he know I'm there?! Wait... does he actually know? Or could he be talking to Dūs?

"I know you're there, so don't make me drag you out from behind that divider." Aha, so he doesn't know I'm there! Oh, but I'll let him know. When the time comes.

And it does. "So you've noticed," Dūs says, "Too bad."

"Wait, you're not the boy Aaron was talking ab-" I lunge out from my hiding place, grabbing the heavy book on the desk on the way to smack Dyonix right in the back of his brown-curls-covered head. But he turns around and shields his head with his arms. As he winces under the pain of the hairy back of his right hand catching the hit, I can get a look at the supposed summoner of the undead: a bearded, tanned man with round shoulders and amber eyes piercing me from the shadows in his gaunt, long face. His tan robes look outlandish. Maybe an Illamari?

"So there you are," he mutters behind gritted teeth. There's a feeling of gratification welling up inside me when I catch his hand trying to punch me.

"Cheeta sends his regards," I hiss and watch his face be taken by surprise – until there appears a wicked grin beneath his moustache. He asks me, "What kind of fool grabs a necromancer's hand?"

Sudden pain erupts in my palm, causing me to cry out in agony and let go of him before it gets worse. Gah, my fingers are going crazy! Feels like they're snapping themselves any second! Next thing I know, Dyonix' shoulder knocks the wind out of me, but as I drop against the bookshelf, Dūs jumps him. In one smooth, well-trained move, he grabs Dyonix by the wrist, twists his arm onto his back – then is suddenly flung back without Dyonix so much as touching him.

He turns back to me. I-is it just me... or are his hands glowing?! They have blackened and cracked, their insides giving off pulsing red and purple light. Like burning charcoals splitting open. But while the fire from just a little coal may burn, I suspect the flames around his hands will do much worse!

And I'm about to find out! I evade the first punch he throws at me by rolling to the side, but the second quickly follows and in a feeble attempt at defence I hold up the book still in my hands.

And for some reason Dyonix stops – giving me the chance to sweep him off his feet and run over Dūs.

"You okay?"

"It's nothing, I just-"

"Watch out!" Sira yells just in time for me to evade Dyonix' flame-enveloped fist. Just in that moment, the door to the study opens, and Dyonix' hands immediately revert to a more normal appearance. But it's just Aaron at the door.

"Uncle, what's going on?! I heard-" His face goes through a good dozen emotions all within a few breaths' time until it decides to stop at anger. But Dūs is already up and lunging for the stairs. "Let's get out of here!" he yells, running up to the second story. Dyonix tries to get a hold of me, but I slam my elbow against his chin before hurrying after Dūs.

"What are you two doing?!" Sira protests, "We'll be at their mercy up here!"

"Not if I can help it," Dūs objects, climbing on the sill of the single, giant window, pushing it open. We're greeted by a fresh breeze whirling throughout the diplomat's quarters. Speaking of diplomat: he and Aaron aren't wasting any time to get to us! I risk a look out the window. Kin's mercy, that's a lot higher than I initially thought.

"Dūs," I croak, "You better not be planning what I think you're planning."

"Sorry to disappoint you then."

"We'll never make that!"

"You scared of heights, Fourth?"

"I'm scared of breaking my neck jumping down there!" Just then, Aaron and Dyonix arrive at the end of the staircase. Dūs leans over and wraps his left arm around me, lifting me with ease. "I hate when I'm the one insisting on the reckless ideas," he murmurs and suddenly jumps from the sill. Kin, Daera, Olphe, Vas, any of you four, I don't care which, please just let me wake up right about now! Get me back to the Order. I don't care, if none of this ever happened, I'd gladly take it over my certain death approaching any second!

As I'm praying, arms wrapped around Dūs' torso, I feel a shock go through him and hear the shingles beneath his feet scatter, yet just like a cat he navigates the small roofs jutting out from the keep, swiftly, yet safely making his descent. "Hold on tight, this last one's a longer jump!" he shouts against the angry gusts of wind around us. One pushes us over and suddenly the world is spinning until I can barely tell what's up or down anymore. I see a cobbled path of Castle District above us. Shit!

But Dūs connects briefly to the outer wall, pushes himself off the same instant and next thing I know, we're turned around again and landing perfectly on our feet on solid ground. It all proves to be a little too much on my legs, though. I drop onto my butt, clutching the cobbles with my shaking fingers, wishing I would never ever have to let go of them again. Dūs, chest heaving under his Shadowless tabard, is grinning faintly. Despite his right gauntlet and the skin underneath having been badly bruised. His dark hand is covered in blood.

"Dūs," I gasp, "your hand-"

"I-it's nothing. I've had worse. Besides... it's just a little pain in my right hand for the life of the Fourth. That's alright." He would have gladly given his hand for me. We haven't known each other for even an hour, and already he's prepared to take a blade for me. Just because Selet thinks I'm the Fourth...

I get up. "It's not," I say, "It's not alright. You're risking your life for someone who's not even convinced he's the Fourth. I'm just Marin, the stablehand-gone-novice from Doarnb."

"You certainly looked like a Fourth to me. Fighting a necromancer head-on, armed with little more than a book-" His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at what's in my hands. It's Sira who bursts, "Wait, you kept that thing?!"

"So I did," I mumble, every bit as surprised as the two of them. "Wait. Because he stopped for it!"

"Excuse me?"

"When he tried to hit me earlier... he let it go to waste because I was holding up this book. He didn't want it to get damaged."

"Come to think of it," Sira recalls, "That Aaron kid was going on about some book from the Library. So if our shady diplomat wasn't worried about his favourite night reading going to hell, I'd say it's worth it looking into this book and finding out what's so important about it."

"Yeah-" I start. "Oh no. The Library! Selet! What about her?! She's still in the castle!"

Dūs puts a hand on my shoulder. "Calm down," he says, "She will be fine. She knows her way around the castle a thousand times better than I do – and is a little less reckless. I'll fetch her later. But for now..." He looks up at the walls, where a couple guardsman are running about on the walkways. "Let's find your horse and make a run for the Temple of Vas. We'll have to find the Blade without any hints."

I nod my head and we hurry to the agreed meeting point, where Halsänn should be waiting with Porstellion. Just when we make eye contact, his face twists in confusion. I don't let him get a word in, though, "Look, that's Dūs, friend of Selet's. We got separated, found out it's a guy called Dyonix who's after her, and now we need to get to the Temple of Vas and get the Blade immediately!"

"Dyonix?! Crap, then that means... gah, forget it! Anyone after you?"

"Most likely," Dūs says.

"Shit. Fine, you two get your asses to the temple! I'll have your back." In any other situation I might have protested. But I guess for once I should let the old man do as he wants. Just so he doesn't make good on that neck-breaking promise I'm sure he's made to me a few times already over the last few days for how I seem to just magically attract trouble.

So Dūs and I get into the saddle and ride away from Castle District as quick as Porstellion carries us.

* * *

"Here it is," Dūs announces solemnly when we arrive at the Great Temple Grounds. That one step through the old stone arch separating the gardens from the city seems to take us worlds away from lively Ardsted. The tolling of the bells, the children playing, and all the other noise seem so distant all of a sudden. The green courtyard is quiet, save for the rustling of the few small trees scattered about the gardens in front of the two temple buildings. One of them, the Goddesses' Loquie, is just a few steps from where we stand, while the other, the Temple of Vas, looms to the end of the eastern stairs leading to the further levels of the courtyard.

We continue on our way, passing the large blocks of marble inscribed with passages from the Disciplines, and the shallow, rectangular reservoirs glinting with a few stray beams of the setting sun. I feel strangely at home. Like, if I close my eyes, I could smell the woods of Welsdorf and hear the chattering of Gart's Mill and the clicking of wooden practice swords at the Order. Is it just because of the calm and peace of this place? Or could this actually be the Gods' intention? For us to feel at home, at ease, when we come to worship them?

Or maybe this is a privilege Vas has saved for his chosen, the Fourth? I remember the stories about humble Ellaea and how, when he was handed the Blade, Vas told her, 'Do not fret over the destiny I hath inflicted upon thee, my chosen. Know full well that I hath but good plans for you and shall not see thee go hungry or thirsty on the roads paved by my hand. No illness nor harm shall befall thee, no beast tear at thy flesh for I will be watching over thee wherever thou set thy foot or make thy bedding to rest for the night. Bandits shalt shun thee, the Three shalt fear thee. For I hath marked thee as my chosen. Thou art the Fourth.'

Just as I finish reciting the words from the Disciplines in my mind, we arrive at the entrance to the temple, a large portal of inlaid wood and bronze. The dun facades are adorned by long, masterfully masoned pilaster strips, bearing the names and images of many a Fourth. Almost instantly I look for one particular among them.

"Trying to find Skender Maresa?" asks Dūs, who has noticed my searching glances.

"Why yes," I say, a little startled. "How'd you know?"

"He was born in Doarnb, too, wasn't he?" He smiles warmly at me. "Seems he's no longer the only Fourth from that part of Cardighna, though."

I'm not really liking that look he's giving me. So I reply, "Nothing's set in stone yet. I just promised Selet to go along with this until we find someone who fits the role of destined saviour a little better." Dūs shrugs. There's a mocking undertone in his voice, "Go inside then, substitute-Fourth. The Blade of Vas will have waited long enough for another wielder to not mind if you're not really the Fourth."

"Why don't you take the sword then, if it matters so little?" I snap. He actually flinches.

"Trust me," he snarls, "You would not want me wielding that blade. Now go. I will find Selet and bring her here while you're searching." With bitterness in his pale eyes, he adds, "Good luck." Then he leaves.

What a weirdo. Is that just another quirk of the Shadowless Order? I shake it off and enter the temple. It's strangely empty inside, my footsteps echoing throughout the large hall. High above squiggled arches branch out from the thick stone pillars like a canopy. The galleries on the first story are flashily coloured by the evening sunlight spilling through the peaked, stained glass windows depicting all kinds of scenes from the long history of the War of the Three. Like Sakon, the Bold's Invasion during the First Dawn. The Cataclysm of Lake Eris caused by Rokesh, Lord of Ember. The death of the last Ikanan emperor at the hands of the Inverted King.

It's only when Sira speaks to me, that I snap out of it and realize I have been staring at these windows all this time, "Hey, don't space out now. We've got to find the Blade! Let's worry about wielding it when we get there, okay?"

"Yeah. You're right. Sorry, I'm just... a little overwhelmed by all this. Selet expects me to take my place in this line of kings and knights and heroes. Though I'm just a novice."

"Eh, you wouldn't be the first somewhat less prestigious Fourth." Hard to say if she means that encouragingly or belittingly. Shrugging it off, I scout out the temple, though there's not really much bearing further interest. So I finally give Dyonix' book a read.

"On the... Flowers and Herbs native to Southern Hesproys," I read out the title in confusion. "Is this some kinda joke?!" Did I by any chance just imagine Dyonix preventing himself from damaging it? Or did I drop the book and accidentally picked up another? "This... this can't be. It's just flowers! Dozens upon dozens, drawings, names, where to find'em!" I angrily flip through the pages.

Then my thumb catches one rather peculiar page. It's not properly aligned with the rest, so it stands out – just barely, yet I notice at all the same. Wait, the handwriting's off, too. The page is entitled Ensys Des Rubikundys and shows a stylized drawing of tall, red ferns pointing straight to the heavens like... like blades!

"Sira... you know any Cironesian?"

"Huh? Well, I picked up a little in my time. Why?"

"What does Ensys Des Rubikundys mean?"

"We're searching for the Blade and could be hunted down by Dyonix' henchmen any second, and you ask me for the name of some flower?!"

"Please, Sira, just tell me what it means! I think this is a clue."

"Well... Ensys is sword, and Des- wait! The red god's sword! The Blade of Vas!" So my suspicion was correct: "This page was slipped into this book and made to match the others. And since all these entries also contain information on where to find the particular flower, this must be the clue we've been looking for! Let's see... natural habitat."

I furrow my brow, when I look at the hint, however. "This flower is rare, and peculiar in that it can only be found when beholding its beauty through the light of the Vas' gaze rising in the West. Godspeed should you dare pluck it from its sheltered grove."

"They really don't want anyone finding this sword who's not supposed to, huh?" Sira groans, "This doesn't make any sense at all! Vas' gaze rising in the West... that's not where the sun rises!"

"They probably mean something else... or maybe there's something hidden in the words." If only I could read it a little better, but with the descent of twilight upon Ardsted it's getting harder and harder. Not to mention these damn stained glass windows aren't helping at all telling what's on the page apart from the colourful light coming down!

"Hold up. Twilight... the sun... the stained glass windows!" Wasn't there one window about the First Dawn, the first Twilight War? Yes, there is! Sakon, the Bold, invading from Ta'Mih in the East, the sun shining off the back of his bald head. And this window's actually facing west. "This must be Vas' gaze rising in the West."

"Huh? Hey, you're right, that might be it."

"Now I just have to... behold the blade's beauty through it. Whatever that means."

"Well, they weren't talking about the actual sun, so what if they don't mean the actual blade either, when they're talking about its beauty?" Sira contemplates. "Try holding up just the page with the blade flower on it so the light hits it!" I do as she suggests – and she's spot-on! There's a second picture hidden inside the parchment! And it sorta matches the window.

A content smirk crosses my face when I align the two properly and am rewarded with the final clue: Sakon not holding aloft his weapon but a heavy-looking stone tile... like the ones in the Temple walls. I waste no time telling Sira what I found and hurry straight up onto the gallery, sliding onto my knees when I come to Sakon's window. The wall tiles beneath show the exact same motif as the secret drawing. Let's see if I can remove this one right below the window.

It takes some fidgeting and almost pinching my fingertips in the narrow spaces between the tiles until I finally uncover a dark cavity in the wall. Gods, this is exciting! Carefully I reach my hand into the hollow space. As soon as I feel the cold metal handle of a sword on my palm, I close my fingers around it and pull it out.

I drag forth a dust-covered bastard sword. Despite how long it must have been hidden in there, the blade is still a shiny blue, as if it had come just from the forge. The silver handle is wrapped in thin strings of red leather while the guard is coated in gold. It resembles a magnificent, shining sun, from which the blade juts out like heaven's judgement. I can't believe I'm holding this in my hands! The Fourth's sword. The Blade of Vas. The Three's Bane, the only weapon capable of killing them for good.

"Now we actually stand a chance against the Inverted King, should he really show his ugly face," I boast jokingly as I get up to go back down and leave the Temple. "Wait till Selet hears about this!"

"Guess again, you pain in the ass." Suddenly Aaron enters the temple. His steps are slow and menacing, his fists tightly clenched. There is something different about his aura than earlier today. "You won't impress her anymore when I'll be done with you," he hisses with a mad twitch of his eyes.

"Why are you here?!" I demand, "Halsänn said he'd-"

"That fat mercenary who got in my way when I wanted to go after you? Oh, I took care of him."

I snap, "What did you do to him?!"

"He got a first-hand taste of just how pissed off I am today. My uncle's so mad at me because of you... and you even stole Selet away from me! I'll make you pay for that!"

I can't take this idiot serious: "I don't know if you noticed, but I've got the bloody Blade of Vas in my hands, while you've got no more than your fists. You want a beating so badly just because Selet doesn't like you?"

Maybe I should have reconsidered my words, but it's too late. Like an angry monkey Aaron jumps me and buries his fist in my cheek. Something in my mouth bursts and already I can taste blood, while I'm sent staggering. But I'll be damned if I let him get the better of me just like that. He's no Cheeta. He's just another Korogra – and I can deal with those well enough!

I catch his second punch, but he jumps back before I can repay him with my own fists. Too bad I also have a sword with a far higher range than his attacks. And I'm not letting him dodge that. There's tears welling up in his eyes, tiny, sparkling droplets filled to the brim with the pain he must be feeling as I slash open his stomach.

One eye shut tight, the other as wide as can be, Aaron stares at me before he goes down to the ground, clutching at the bleeding gash in his centre. All at once I can't feel my fingers anymore, and the taste of blood turns to bile in my mouth. W... what the hell has just gotten into me?! I just cut him up. Kin's sake, this prick is barely older than me! He'll bleed out any minute at this rate!

"Shit, shit, shit," I curse, dropping to the floor to grab him by the shoulders and see just how quickly I'll have to face the hard truth of just having spelt someone's death. I've got to help him-

Just then his knuckles crack hard against my chin and send me flying back. Meanwhile he's getting up like it's almost nothing. And it is! What the- I could have sworn I almost saw his guts spilling out, and now, between all the blood-drenched, dark silk, there's little more than a barely noticeable scar!

"Shit, that hurt!" he barks furiously, "You'll pay for that!"

"What kinda abomination are you?! Another undead?!" In response he gives me the most malicious grin I have ever seen from a boy his age. "No~," he tells me gleefully, "I'm no one's puppet." Slowly the veins on the back of his hands are beginning to glow. Oh no. Blue sparks appear around his fingers, while their skin slowly turns dark as burning charcoal. "I'm the puppeteer if anything!"

My legs react before I fully realize he's attacking again. A whip of fire hits down on the floor tiles where I had just been lying. So he's a necromancer like his uncle! And any bit as eager to put an end to me. Shit, there he goes again!

"The sword, Marin!" Sira screams, "Parry it with the sword!" With few alternatives left I hold up the Blade of Vas to where the burning tendril comes down to hit me in the head. As soon as the fire so much as touches the edge, however, it suddenly disappears without a trace. Aaron and I are equally dumbfounded.

The hint of a grin returns to my face. "So it's true," I realize, "This is the holy blade. And it won't see me go down at the hands of the likes of you."

"Good luck trying to cut me down," he taunts, though his face betrays his cockiness. He's not so sure of himself anymore.

"He's got a point," I whisper to myself, "Even if I cut him, it doesn't do anything!"

Sira has heard me and explains, "It's his necromantic abilities. He's healing himself whenever you hit him. But- look out!" With a quick jump I dodge Aaron lunging at me, but the next moment he's got his magic whip out again, swinging it sideways. I throw myself out of the way and under it, landing right outside on the Temple Grounds. The air has grown thick and muggy outside, making my every quick breath unrefreshing and weary. I scramble to my feet to get away from the temple entrance before Aaron comes after me.

Meanwhile, Sira is asking, "Ever heard of soul stones?"

"Soul stones? Sira, this is hardly the time-"

"That's what he's using to cast his spells! Necromancers can't do anything without a gem to draw power from. Take the stone from him and he'll be sitting ducks!"

"As if I'd let ya!" Aaron yells. With a swing of his arm he sends a burning crescent after me, but the Blade of Vas easily cleaves through it, leaving only two stray shots to consume the grass to my sides. Almost immediately the plants wilt and die where the blue fire touches them. But in the time I've taken to notice that, Aaron's already running towards me again. He's only an arm's length away from me. Before he can hit me with any of his spells I take the Blade to his shoulder, making him jump back with an agonized scream. The fresh wound is already closing up while he retreats.

Well, at least I know he still gets to feel the pain of every cut, even if it isn't lasting. Let's just hope he faints from it before I'm out of breath from dodging him. No, I can't take that chance. I'll just have to go on the offensive! While he is still clutching is shoulder, I make a run for him. That bastard recovers way quicker than I expected, however, welcoming me with another crack of his whip. Nothing the Blade can't parry, though.

His foot connecting with my stomach is an entirely different matter. I fight down the feeling of nausea bubbling up in me as I arch my back and try to get out from within his range before he follows it up with magic. A crack of thunder accompanies the sudden chill flying by my cheek, as Aaron's attack barely misses. Still catching my breath I swing the sword at him with just my right hand. But Aaron catches my wrist and suddenly my entire arm is burning up with unspeakable pain. Like there's something eating through my veins and a thousand hands tearing apart my flesh at the same time.

I have to let go of the sword! And Aaron lets me. He's laughing loud enough for half of Ardsted to hear. "Ha! You dumbass actually let me have it! You're dead!" he yells, throwing his last punch at me. I feel his fist drive hard into my quickly raised palm. There's no pain beyond that. There's no blue fire. His hands look normal again.

And Aaron stares at my left holding his amulet. I manage a crooked grin at his dumb face. "You sure, I'm the dumbass right now? I didn't let you have anything – I just made a little exchange." He's too shocked to do anything as I throw aside his fist and drive me elbow into his pale face, taking a good deal of satisfaction in feeling his nose giving way. Lightning strikes as Aaron drops down to the ground, unconscious. Serves him right. I toss away his amulet and retrieve the Blade of Vas.

And a heartbeat later I'm getting swarmed by a very worked up Sira, chiding me, "For Olphe's sake, Marin! You're gonna give me a heart attack with these reckless moves! You're sure lucky that his soul stone was really that gem in his amulet!"

"Orson told us that in a fight it sometimes all just comes down to instinct," I try and explain, "And my instincts were telling me that Aaron's the kind of idiot to actually keep his soul stone in such an obvious spot."

"Seems your instincts were right for once." Her face turns salacious. "We~ll, I can surely see why Selet's got the hots for you rather than him. I wonder if you're in for another kiss when she finds out we retrieved the sword safe and sound."

"You're seriously bringing this stupid kiss up again already...?" I mutter with a sigh. "C'mon, let's get out of here and see what's taking her and Dūs so long."

"Err, what about your little rival in love?" I look back at Aaron's bloody, unmoving face. My stomach is twisting. "He can go to hell for all I care," I tell Sira, "But I'm not killing him. If I'm really the Fourth... then the Three are the only ones I should have to kill." And by the Gods, I hope I can avoid even that.

Just as I want to leave, something grabs onto my ankle. I want to turn around, but Aaron pulls my feet out from under me, making me fall flat onto my face. Shit, so he's already up and kicking again?! Not exactly by the sound of his strained, groaning voice: "Urgh... you're... not going to ruin everything... my uncle's worked for. I won't let ya!"

Let's see how you're gonna do that, if I kick you in the head this time! But my foot only hits air. He's already gotten up, and all I manage to do before he pins me down is turn onto my back. I'm not even counting, how often he tries to smash in my face and how often I try to repay him while we're jousting all over the place. But eventually we end up rolling into one of the blocks of marble in the gardens, and all of a sudden Aaron let's go off me.

When I realise why, it's too late already. He's standing above me, the Blade of Vas in his hands, holding it down for one final thrust down that'll be the end of me. Amidst all the blood and bruises in his face I catch his eyes tearing up.

"Try being a hero," he screams, suddenly lifting the blade up for a swing, "without this!" Even with the rolling thunder hitting my ears the same moment he brings down the sword on the marble block I can clearly hear the piercing sound of breaking steel. Everything seems to have slowed down. I can count the spins of half the blade in the air, catching the last rays of evening light that have not been blocked out by the thick clouds in the sky yet. One. Two. Three. Four. When it comes back down, it buries itself next to me in the dirt, while Aaron tosses the hilt and the snapped base of the once holy blade into the grass and runs away.

Then the rain comes pouring down.

[ubekawateryam]

Consecration of the Seal Sword - Chapter 5

(For more chapters, check out the Masterpost!)

Yay, another chapter after the little break due to thesis writing and Christmas ect. The last chapter for this year, sadly, since starting tomorrow I’ll be on a short holiday until the 2nd. So, up ahead let me wish all of you a great start into the new year, have a great 2016 and let’s stick as long as possible with our new year’s resolutions! (e. g. finishing that Ganondorf pic as soon as possible)

So, without further ado, accompany Marin and Co once more this year, as we’re approaching a big point in the story~.

Chapter 5

I try to think fast. This is probably the last place I expected Sira to end up in, the freaking collection of a guardsman interested in ancient history. And now, on top of locating Griselda and Halsänn, and getting back Porstellion without the commander catching on to what's going on, I've got to somehow free his most prized posession without ending up at the gallows.

Oh well, it's just my life that's in danger, right?

"C-could I have a closer look?" I try and ask unsuspectingly. Cheeta regards me with a stern look. Slowly he hands me the flask. "Be careful," he says, "I don't want this thing to break and-" With a dull sound the flask connects with the floorboards. I don't know what's worse. That the one time I drop something delicate on purpose, it won't break, or that Cheeta's probably close to just beheading me on the spot there. I try to smile apologetically, most likely resulting in a pained grimace of internal screaming.

"Urgh, you idiot!" he scolds me, "And here I just told you to be careful." He picks up the flask again, dusting off the glass and checking for any scratches. With a hint of humor he remarks, "Seems you've got my little guest here agitated as well. That thing is buzzing around like a bumblebee." That thing will probably give me another sting, too, if I don't think of something fast. But I can't come up with anything. He's not letting me near his collection anytime soon now, that's for sure.

"Say... um... what do víly actually eat? I mean, do you feed her?" He lifts his gaze from Sira, giving me a somewhat puzzled look. "Her?" he echoes, brow furrowed, "How'd you know this is a female?" Damnit...

"Well... a-aren't they all? I mean, I remember hearing a story or two about the víly. And how they, um, lure bachelors into the woods to marry them and then in the morning they wake up and are cursed to stay at their side." And half a dozen other tales that I've read at home rolled into one. My face feels as hot as a Kolph's forge. I could swear I'm sweating all over. Cheeta meanwhile has a frozen look of confusion on his face.

"What kinda stories do they tell you where you come from? A fucking gnat marrying a human?"

"Don't you know?" I grab the flask, pointing at where I'm assuming the actual Sira's backside is located as well as her projection's. "See the stinger? There's poison in them, that they use to fool people into believing they have a different appearance, so the young men think it's a beautiful woman they're wedding. Seldom ends happily, though." Especially if all víly have as lovely personalities as Sira sometimes. If that was a true tale, I'd really have to wonder if these guys ever had a single conversation with their lady love.

Cheeta seems to buy it now, though, saying, "Hm... right, might be I heard something like that, too. They also say that five of these stings'll kill you." He cracks a smile. "I wouldn't want to find out about it either way. Anyways, you reminded me that I should see to it that my lovely acquisition doesn't starve anytime soon if I'm gonna carry it around as my lucky charm. Thanks." He reaches out his hand to me. "Now, gimme back the flask before you drop it ag-"

Again, the flask falls to the ground, while I try and make it seem like an accident. And once more the damn glass doesn't shatter. Gods, why must you hate me so much? As much as Cheeta, whose head is as red as a beet by now.

"Get. Out. Now," he growls, "Before I rethink taking a git like you along to find the girl." I don't dare reply anything, not even an apology, as I slowly remove myself from his study. Seems there's a grain of truth in my made up story: víly bring bad luck.

* * *

I'm left to walk around the barracks aimlessly until evening. I watch the few men and women who aren't searching for Halsänn and Griselda drill halfheartedly or take care of the horses. Sitting on a small retaining wall, I agonize over my situation, while riders come and go. Just as I am close to just giving up on this whole situation again, Cheeta suddenly comes out of his study, calling for me. What could it be now? I get up and walk over to where he's waiting with a sly smile on his gaunt face. He cuts straight to the chase, "I hope you're ready to go, boy. We've got a lead."

This so-called lead turns out to be a small, desolate ruin of a farm right outside town. As we track up the hill in the pink twilight of dusk, the foundation walls of the former living quarters slowly separate themselves from the tall grass and shrubbery.  The stable is missing half a roof, and most of its Western wall is lieing there in a pile of rubble. Amidst the thigh-high blades of grass, a patch of black gapes like a beast's open maw waiting for innatentive prey. Looking closer I see that it's an overgrown, dried up well.

As we approach, a guardsman separates himself from the shade of a crooked olive tree to meet us.

"Anything?" Cheeta asks him.

"No signs of movement, sir. Noone came or went, nor did anything else happen."

"Fine. You're dismissed then, we'll take over from here."

"But, sir, what if-"

Cheeta flashes him a glare. "I said: dismissed. Go get a drink or help the others clean the barracks, but leave us to it."

"Yessir!" The man salutes and hurries off. That was odd.

"See those?" Cheeta asks in the meantime, pointing at a few patches where the grass is downtrodden. "Someone's been here."

"Your men most likely?"

"They know better than that. They've stuck close to the buildings to see if anyone's there. Turns out there wasn't."

"Why're we even here then?"

Cheeta lets out an annoyed sigh. "To look for clues of course, you dimwit! Maybe this whoreson and the girl aren't here anymore, but maybe they left something that can tell us where they went. So go on, check the stables, I'll be by the quarters!"

"Yessir," I imitate the guardsman with a roll of my eyes, while I amble towards the unhinged stable doors. As if they'd have left any clues around here. It's not like Porstellion's gonna be in that barn, just waiting for me. I freeze in place, as I hear a low snort behind the door. No... I must be hearing things. And for once it's not the voice of an actual, existing víla. This time I really must be imagining things.

I close in on the door and with a drawn-out, loud creak of the hinges I pull it open. A blade's point of light slowly thrusts into the dark of the stables, yet not everywhere is it able to cleave through the black, as a creature, tall and with dark fur awaits inside. And stares at me as dully as ever.

"Porstellion!" I cry out in surprise. Am I seeing right? It's really him! That's my saddle and my stuff and everything on his back! It's really him! I could almost hug the damn nag. "Finally found you!"

"Ah, so that's the horse my men mentioned." I jump, when Cheeta is suddenly behind me. He ignores me, though, instead just slowly wandering over to Porstellion and opening his saddle bags. I can feel my body growing tense. I can't blow my cover now, but damnit, Porstellion, you could at least take some notice of the stranger next to you.

Suddenly Cheeta stops searching the bags' contents. "Interesting," he says in a low voice, "Halsänn's developped some new talents on the road." His eyes turn to regard me, glistening like two sharp steel points. "I did not know they taught reading in the Kingsbride." He turns around completely now. "Boy, I forgot to ask you earlier... where are those books you were supposed to deliver? You're not carrying them with you right now as I can see. Have you rented a room at an inn, where you keep them? Where is it? Mind, if I let my men take a look and see if what you've told me is actually any bit true?" Each question comes like a hit with a mace, being swung with more force every time.

At last, my shield breaks down. "They're... in the saddle bags. This horse is mine-" I'm not even done speaking when Cheeta suddenly grabs a spear from the dark bowels of the stables and smashes the shaft across my fingers. I yell out in pain, my knees growing week under the smack. Kin's mercy, that hurts!

Cheeta's voice comes as another slap, "You've taken me for a fool far too long, boy!" Suddenly he's right in front of me, grabbing me by the neck and lifting me high above. His fingers are as cold as ice, thin and long like threads of a noose slowly tightening around my neck. I could swear his fingertips almost touch on the other side, as he slowly steps outside the stables, towards the old well. I don't need to look down to know i'm hanging right above its gaping mouth. It's a lot darker outside now.

"I admit you've played the innocent boy quite well all this time. You didn't even seem all that wary, when we came here," Cheeta says. His tainted teeth are clenched angrily. His gums look like patches of fresh blood from the last fool he has killed for their lack of wits. "I'll give you one more chance before I toss you down there: Where is the girl?"

"I... I really don't know!" I croak.

"Well, neither will anyone know where you went then-"

"I was after her...! Because of a revenant that I saw...! He was hunting her!" Cheeta's grip becomes looser, his eyes widen in shock. "I met with them by chance... and put two and two together with how they acted. The next morning they stole my horse... but Griselda said to come to Keslynth. She wanted to explain it all to me here!" Cheeta's fingers have grown shakey, but I weakly keep his hands around my neck. Can't have him drop me just because he's startled now. "And... might as well also say that this víla you've caught... is my friend!"

Cheeta's face is torn between surprise, anger... and amusement? He chuckles. "W... what's so funny?!" I ask.

"You are, boy. You're a joke if I've ever seen one. But at least you were honest this time. Let the Gods judge you righteously for that." He suddenly tosses me into the gras. I can't even try and turn around, when his foot plants me deeper into the dirt. What's he gonna do?! "Next life you'll remember to stay out of other people's matters." I don't wait to find out what will happen. In a desperate attempt to save myself, I grab a handful of dirt, turn around as much as his foot will allow for, and just blindly throw the dry earth and gras at him. I can feel his boot giving way just slightly when I hit his face. Pushing myself up, I roll to the side, feeling the edge of Cheeta's spear biting into the side of my neck. Had I been a tad slower, he would have thrust into me dead center. I jump up, making Cheeta stagger as I hit him in the chest, and immediately jump back before his spear can reach me. Finally I can draw my sword.

"You brat!" Cheeta screams furiously, lunging out at me, spear thrust forward like a lance. I sidestep his attack and have at him rather than fleeing him again. C'mon, I can get an attack in before he- Right then, the shaft hits me in the back of the head. I stagger, Cheeta makes me trip and I am back on the ground, at his mercy. Like hell! I roll out from his range, hear the spear pierce into the ground, and get up in one swift motion. This time he doesn't close the distance right away. We slowly circle one another.

Enough time for to get a few words in, "So you're with the revenant from the woods..."

"You don't even know the half of it, boy."

"No, that's why I'm here. To find out about the rest of you. What do you really want from Halsänn and Griselda?! And don't tell me again, they're outlaws."

"And yet they are. No need for you to know anything else, though. Hehehe, you're more clueless than I thought. Really, I could just burst with laughter over how stupid you are."

"I couldn't stand to hear your ugly voice laughing any longer."

"Good, cause you won't be hearing it much longer!" he screams. And then he's jumping me again. The joints in my right hand burn with pain from the hit earlier when I grip my sword tighter and parry his spear. I can still hear the hollow sound of the shaft bouncing back from my blade, when he's spinning around, swinging his weapon at my right side this time. There's nothing I can do to avoid the hard wood smacking me on the leg. Stumbling backwards, I dodge another thrust by a hair's width, when suddenly my heel slams into a brick. The well, oh no! I'm at the well's edge!

"Down you go!", Cheeta calls, thrusting the spear at me. Damnit, I have to fall or else it's the spear! But I'm not going down alone! I grab the spear right beneath the point and pull Cheeta with me. He wants to let go of the shaft, but I manage to catch his wrist as I fall backwards, dragging him with me into the abyss in a ravel of thrashing limbs and scraping my hands on moss-covered bricks.

The impact comes later than expected, gives me a sudden reminder of up and down again in one loud thud and many more snapping sounds that raise the hair on my neck. For a moment the pain is more than I can take, the next I open my eyes and am envelopped by darkness and silence. Am... am I dead? A drop of water lands on the tip of my nose. I gaze upwards – or at least what I think is upwards – and see the blackened sky, barely visible within a small, dark tube of stone bricks and moss. So still the well, not the underworld yet. So I'm alive! I survived the fall! A little scafed, but I can in fact feel all my limbs, albeit not in an all too pleasant way.

But what's with that whoreson Cheeta? Where'd he go? Damnit, it's so hard to see, but I think that's his uniform under me. Guess he took most of the fall, and that was his spine that snapped, not mine. Well, harm set, harm get. Man, I owe the Gods a huge sacrifice next time I come by a loquie.

Slowly I push myself up, almost slipping on the lifeless Cheeta, when my legs protest violently at me using them. I kick him aside to be able to stand up in the narrow pit. As he rolls over, I notice there's a soft orb of light, brightening up the well a little. That must be Sira! He really took her with himself as a lucky charm. Geesh, I was just kidding about víly bringing bad luck. Maybe I should leave her with him, or next time I'm actually gonna die from a fall like this.

No, I wouldn't do that. So I take the flask from his belt and pop open the cork to let Sira out. Her light almost doubles in intensity as she comes flushing from the bottleneck and flies about in big loops and spirals. She cries, "Finally! For Olphe's sake, any longer inside that thing and I'd have tried and eaten my way through the glass! Urgh, took your sweet time, didn't you, Marin?"

"I'm happy to have you back, too, Sira," I reply caustically.

"OH, I'm thankful. I really am, don't worry. But I think you gotta fill me in on how you even found me and why we're down here and where that would be and why's this dead guy at your feet?"

"Oh, trust me, I've got plenty of time to tell you," I sigh, looking up at the small opening growing darker and darker, "Cause it's gonna take a while to climb out of here... if we're so lucky as to actually be able to get out."

"Well, I've got no trouble flying up there. I could call help, maybe Phentos is still around and-"

"And what if you get yourself captured again?"

"Hey, it's not like that was my fault! How likely is it to just be put into a bottle all of a sudden?!"

"Alright, alright. Still... we can't just call someone. We're deep in it, already. And if someone sees us next to this guy's dead body, we're done for. He was the commander of the townsguard. They'd recognize him immediately."

Sira is holding her head in her hands. "Just great... so you accidentally killed a guardsman?!"

"He's not just a guardsman. Sira, he's with the revenant! He wanted me to lead him to Griselda and Halsänn, and when I told him about what happened at Welsdorf, he immediately tried to kill me!" After a bit of silence, I say, "It's not like I had much of a choice. I didn't want to kill him... but... well, he held you captive. And who knows what he was gonna do with Griselda?"

"It's fine, Marin. I'm... I'm sorry, this is just a bit much. And I couldn't really help you. Although this is exactly why Simmias asked me to go with you."

"N-no! Don't blame yourself, Sira! We couldn't know the townsguard of this place would be involved in all of this. Whatever is going on in Cardighna... we're getting dangerously close to finding out what it is."

"Let's go then. Let's find Griselda and finally get some answers. Think you can climb up there?"

"I think I-" I stop speaking for a moment.

"What is it?" Sira asks.

"Can't you hear it? I thought I just heard steps or something... and – I might be wrong about this, though – there's an air current, isn't there?" I feel the well's walls where I think I heard the steps coming from. Hey, there's a gap between these two bricks with no moss whatsoever. It's wide enough for me to get my fingers inside.

And as I reach inside, there's a clicking noise and suddenly, a whole part of the wall swings inwards to reveal a masoned passage. Sira flies a little closer and wonders, "Is this another way outside?" I've got an even better theory, "It might just be the perfect hideout. That explains why Porstellion was up there, next to the well."

"Oh, so we found the horse at least."

"And now we're gonna find the two scumbags who've stolen it," I say, following the secret passageway. I'm glad to have Sira with me for many reasons, but right now I couldn't thank the Gods enough for the light she gives off, reflected dimly by the stone walls. The further we go, the less they resemble the crumbling, rough bricks of the well. Instead they are decorated with intricate carvings showing off angular pictures of many men and woman with thin-lined patterns covering their faces. Would that I had the time to look closer and see if I could figure what these pictures are about.

Soon, the passage widens into a cold low-ceiling vault, plastered with dark tiles. I can't imagine how long they have been here, but while the patterns on them have long faded, the trails in the thick layers of dust on top of them are very clear and certainly from sometime this week.

"This will be easier than I dared hope," I remark with a grin.

"I'm still not in much of a hoping mood right now," Sira says. I shrug and follow the trails through another corridor, looking almost exactly the same as the one before, leading to yet another vault, that is completely empty. Or so I think, when I enter, when, all of a sudden I am grabbed from behind, a thick leather gauntlet covering my mouth as I try to fight my way out of the large, strong man's grasp.

"For fuck's sake!" I hear him hiss, as he recognizes me. Oh great, it's Halsänn. Woo-hoo. Then I spot someone else in the darkness. It's suddenly is dispelled by a lantern being lit and I can make out the other person here. It's Griselda! Actually, I haven't gotten that good a look at her back on the farm, since it was nighttime. Now I can actually see her shiney, brown hair, as dark as her big, surprised eyes. The lantern light shines softly onto her well-tanned, olive-coloured skin.

"Marin!" she exclaims happily, "You really came!" I try replying something, but all that comes out is muffled mumbling, while I get a good taste of old, dry leather. She gives Halsänn a look. "Let him go already, I told you, he means us no harm!"

"Oh, and I'm s'pposed to believe he just so happened to stumble on our little hideout down here. That's not what people meaning no harm do, you know that." I make another attempt at speaking through his gauntlet. Griselda huffs, "Let him explain at least!" Begrudgingly, Halsänn complies and uncovers my mouth. "Thanks," I cough, "And to be perfectly honest here, me finding you two was more on luck's part than anything. You could actually say I stumbled upon this place." I shift around within Halsänn's arms to face him and give him my most hateful glare, I've got to offer after the last few days. "Thanks for taking such good care of Porstellion by the way. Really glad to see he's still in one piece and not part of some stew you two are eating down here."

"I'm terribly sorry for what we did. I truly am," Griselda says, trying to look me in the face as she does so, "We... we were trying to get away. As fast as possible."

"I know. From an undead and a mad townsguard commander, who almost killed me a short while ago, when I was looking for you." They both stare at me in shock. I continue, "You came through Southern Doarnb, after you had crossed the Salt Vein, didn't you? I met with your pursuer. Turned out to be a revenant and almost killed my sister."

"The Poor Knightly Order of Doarnb sent us to find out, just what the meaning of all this is," Sira adds, "And we'd finally like some answers. And perhaps for this noble man to let go of Marin and for once actually show that he's sorry, too!" I can't quite understand what Halsänn is mumbling in response to that, but he lets me go nonetheless.

Griselda meanwhile has set down the lamp in the middle of the room and taken a seat on a masoned bench at the wall. She stares at her hands with a deep frown, her fingers entangling themselves nervously. "I... I don't quite know where to start with all this..."

"Well, maybe start with why they're hunting you," Sira suggests, yet Griselda's face becomes just more pained. Her lips shake, open hesitantly and quickly close again, unsure what to say. Sira sighs, "Y'know we're here because you promised us answers, right?"

"Y... yes, I am aware. But..." She shakes her head. "Nevermind. If you truly wish to know, I will tell you. But could you... turn around for a moment? And not look at me until I say so?" What, why doesn't she want us to-

"Turn around, Marin," Sira says. I stare at her confusedly, then to Griselda, who is becoming more and more flustered. "C'mon, just do as you're asked for once!"

"Fine, fine!" I huff and turn around, crossing my arms. Halsänn does, too, intently keeping an eye on the entrance, making grim faces. As we stand there and wait, my ears pick up a soft rustling sound, like of... cloth dropping to the floor? Woah, hold on! She's not... she's not undressing all of a sudden, is she?! Is that why she wants us to look away? But why would she... what does that have to do with-

"You may face me again now. I apologize for the wait." I'm not sure what to expect. Turning around seems to take years, until I finally see her again. Fully clothed as before, yet with a darkened scroll in her hands. Questioningly I look at it. Griselda explains, "This is why they're hunting us... I don't dare keep it anywhere else but right against my bare skin. They mustn't get their hands on this scroll!"

"What... what's so special about this scroll?" I wanna know, still a little flustered.

"It's a prophecy. And you're in it, too, Marin."

[ubekawateryam]

Consecration of the Seal Sword, Chapter 3 and a Look to the North

(For more chapters, check out the Masterpost!)

Yay, next chapter with some very special appearances~. Enjoy, folks!

Chapter 3

Finally, the day is here! Despite the urgency, it took us some time to prepare everything for my departure – mostly convincing my mother that I’m not gonna get eaten by a wolf first step I take outside of Welsdorf. Even now she’s eyeing me like a babe newborn, not like her son of fifteen summers. A man almost.

We’re all gathered in front of the Order. All the novices are here, who won’t shut up about all the things I should and shouldn’t do, once I’m gone, and the elders and Gart have come, too, along with his brothers, whom he dragged along for good measure. It’s early in the morning and the sun has just left the treetops, caressing us with its warm light. As if Vas was letting us know of His assistance in this mission.

Things grow a little more quiet when Orson steps forward. He looks as stern as ever, though in his eyes there’s a faint hint of deep, friendly care he shows this openly only so often. In his hands he holds my training sword and a moderately intricate scabbard. "Freshly whet,“ he tells me, "to make sure your travel will be a safe one. Use it wisely, a sharp blade’s no toy.“ I nod firmly and reach out for the sword, but he’s not done yet. "And if you are compelled to use it, make it count. Don’t want any of the scum out there thinking we don’t teach you lads proper fencing here! Harhar!“ Me and many others join him in laughter as he hands me the sword, and I fasten it to my hip.

While Orson steps aside, two of the other menials bring the horse I claimed from the revenant. I’m grateful enough not to have to go by foot, but… really, did it have to be that stubborn nag? Simmias – as if reading my mind – says, "By all rights it should be yours. The steed is strong and calm – a horse prepared even for war. None of its former rider’s evil sticks to it, either, I swear on it.“

I am given the reins, which I take with caution, eyeing the black horse suspiciously. Then Simmias suggests, "It is ill advised to ride it when it has not been named, however. So I’d say you should pick something to call it by now.“

"You best plea for the Gods‘ aid by naming it in their honor,“ Orson offers. Meanwhile, Gart has different ideas, "Why not the name of a girl from the village?“ Not even close to subtle, Gart, I tell him with a look alone. He just wishes he knew if there’s finally someone I’ve taken a fancy to. Not gonna do him that favor, though. "I think I’ve got a different idea… I’ll name this horse Porstellion, in honor of a true hero of Doarnb!“

Gart shakes his head, and Simmias nods his, but they are both smiling – and probably thinking the same thing, "How typical for him to pick a name from his favourite stories.“ Well, to the nag’s credit, it seems as cool-headed as Porstellion – maybe even as courageous, if a horse can actually be courageous rather than too-stupid-to-recognize-danger. Should be fine.

Lastly, there is one more thing I am given. Simmias approaches and hands me a thick bundle of books. "For you to deliver to the other Orders in the area,“ he claims, though we both know that for a lie, even if it were not for his quick wink in my direction. No way these are for anyone else but myself. I can barely contain my grin. That old man is just too nice for this world. I borrow and lose his books, and he actually gives me more of them to read!

He cannot but add a little quip, however, "Though recent events seem to suggest otherwise, I know you will take good care of these.“

"I will! On my honor!“ I promise quickly.

"Then let’s waste no more time,“ Orson says, giving me a heavy pat on the back, "Godspeed to you, Marin. Do us proud out there!“

"You better not be gone for too long!“ Sara cries and jumps me in an almost bone-crushing little-sister-hug. Before I know it, my mother’s got her arms wrapped around me as well.

"Just be careful, yes?“ she pleas, the tears welling in her eyes again. I can’t bear to look at her like this. Maybe… maybe it’s not so good of an idea after all. But the Order is counting on me! This is my first ever travel outside of Welsdorf. I must take this chance!

"I won’t do anything stupid, don’t worry. Before you know it, I’ll be back, safe and sound!“ Still they cling to me a little longer, before they can finally bear to let me go. Sara clutches mum’s hand tightly when we part. Next comes Gart embracing me. He’s got that cheeky grin on his face again.

"Don’t go hunting after every ladyfolk y’find. Only th’pretty’uns.“

"I’ll leave some for you if the circumstances allow for it.“ He gives my shoulder a light punch, then we both laugh. Hendrik helps me into the saddle. As I shift around a little to get comfortable, he says, "Godspeed. I know you can uncover what’s going on in Cardighna.“ I nod at him reassuringly.

"I won’t leave a single pebble unturned.“ The rest of the novices shout their goodbyes at me, as I slowly turn Porstellion around and move away from the Order on his strong back. I risk a look over my shoulder to see all those familiar faces one last time before I go. They’re waving and cheering for me. The small river running through the village is gurgling what sounds like a sad farewell and the huts seem as if covered with blades of gold instead of plain straw. It‘s making my gut boil with excitement and a drop of sadness. This is gonna be a big step.

But that’s enough time wasted with doubts! I lead Porstellion into a canter and off we go into the tunnel of trunks and treetops lining the road, leaving Welsdorf behind us to ride eastward into the unknown.

* * *

"Well… should be at the forest’s edge now any moment“, I mumble to myself a while later whilst studying the map. Trees are sparser around here and there are deep tracks in the road where the carts come from and go to the other villages nearby. The air is growing ever warmer and smells of summer. I let Porstellion move along in a slow gait to just appreciate the peace and quiet.

Turns out it’s short-lived, when a tiny, shrill voice suddenly comments, "If you keep up this pace, we’ll be lucky to have found out anything by winter.“ D… did I really just hear someone? I take a hasty look around, but there’s noone there. I look once more, even turn around in the saddle. Still nothing. "Calm down,“ the voice says, "If that’s enough to almost make you fall from your horse, we’ll have a bad time out there.“

"Who are you?“ I demand, "Where are you?! Show yourself!“ It’s then that I notice a pair of intricately patterned black and red butterfly wings, perched between Porstellion’s ears. There is a dim, green glow coming off of the creature, like a firefly’s. "Finally spotted me, huh?“ the voice says mockingly. As it gets off of Porstellion’s head and flies closer, I recognize it’s not a real butterfly, but really a tiny, green woman... distinctly lacking some clothes. Oh, wonderful, so I actually am going insane. Glad I’ve got enough of my wits about me to figure at least that.

I keep staring at the winged woman in bewilderment, who looks back concerned. "Are you alright? Your face is turning red as a beet,“ she teases, going as far as to lean on the tip of my nose for support with a mischievous grin splitting her face. I wince and pull my head back.

"What the… who… what are you?!“

Her expression grows a little more sour, her red eyes piercing into me. "My name is Sira, thank you very much.“ With a displeased look away from me she adds, "And I’m a víla. A víla, who you just happen to owe your life to.“

My head is spinning from all the questions popping up with every word she says. A víla? I owe my life to her? "What are you talking about? I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I owed you anything.“ For a short while she stares at me like I’ve just said something incredibly stupid. Then she says, "Well, then take a gander at your right hand and think hard. That should help your memory.“

I shake my head, making her finally get away from my nose, though not without an annoyed hmph. I can’t believe I’m going along with this. Well, let’s look at my hand then. Can’t see anything related to a small bug-sized, annoying lady- wait, the red sting! "That was your doing?“

"Exactly. I saw you lying in the woods, about to breath your last breath after that pile of bones had given you a taste of its boot… so I figured I‘d prick you awake a little. Still waiting on that Thank you by the way.“ Just to spite her I delay the words of gratitude a little longer, "Is that why you followed me out here?“

"No~. But there’s this old fellow called Simmias, who thought it would be better were you not to venture out all by yourself into the outside world, where there are tons of possibilities to break your bones for sure this time.“ The surprise makes me forget to get mad at her wording.

"Simmias sent you? You know him?“

"Pfft, don’t have much of a choice with how often he comes into the woods to feed the monkeys!“ The more she talks, the less sense she makes. Simmias feeding the monkeys? Despite Orson’s burning hatred of’em? While I’m still trying to make sense of anything she’s said so far, she continues, "Well, and when he told me about what you found at the beach, he asked me to watch over you…“

She has her arms crossed in the air grumpily and adds, "Had I known this would happen, just because I saved you once, I would have left you to nap forevermore.“ I see that she doesn’t quite mean it and smile at that.

"I just attract people helping me out of a tight spot.“

"You attract danger, s’far as I can see!“ she corrects me. Then she can’t help it and smiles as well. "‘tis but coincidence we always come around to help.“

"Well, then thanks be chance… and you for saving my life.“

"About time!“ she huffs and suddenly slips into one of my pockets. When she notices my questioning stare, she goes, "Hey, keeping a little place for me to rest is the least you can do for your life saviour!“

"Maybe you could do me a favour then and actually wear some clothes?“ She starts snorting with laughter.

"For a passionate reader you know little about us!“ I furrow my brow. "I’ll tell you a little scret! Us víly have got a few tricks up our sleeves… for example a little poison that causes hallucinations even in big creatures like you.“ First time anyone’s regarded me as big. "So when you had gotten yourself beaten unconscious, I stung you to wake you up… and figured if you were to see me, I needn’t scare you more than inevitable. So I thought of this little appearanc for you. Not to your liking?“ Oh, this cunning harlot!

"W-what do you take me for?!“ Though I must admit, she’s got a point – not that I’d ever tell her that! I’d rather know, "What do you really look like then?“

"Believe me, you don’t wanna know. Heard of few people who enjoyed seeing a true víla.“ A cold shiver runs down my spine at that, while all kinds of horrible images flicker through my mind, of slimy bugs, bloated centipedes, with crooked, sharp claws and venom-dripping teeth, hairy legs like stilts, pointed suckers and-

My daily nightmare ends suddenly, when Sira starts laughing again. "It’s so easy to tell your thoughts from just your face. You’re totally ashen!“

"S-shut up, you!“ I snap and turn my attention back to the map. Just a moment later I notice the forest having thinned out even further. Less and less trees line our way, before the road suddenly leads down a hillside in a steep, winding stretch. By the Gods, the view from here is incredible. Enough to make me halt Porstellion for a moment. I am looking at a seemingly endless plane of green meadows full of gently rolling hills. Every village or farm or town looks just like tiny sparks of color with thin, white and blue lines connecting them. And at the horizon I can barely spot the noble, red mountain rage of Ardnas.

So this is it – the outside world! And it’s high time I explored it a little, so I push my feet into Porstellion’s side and race down the road.

* * *

The night has descended quickly. Between all the riding through the countryside, taking in the beautiful landscape and questioning a bunch of farmers and travellers it seems like the sun has set within a heartbeat’s time. Though some certain víla’s constant nagging has ruined almost every moment so precious that I might almost have squealed like Sara does, when she’s especially happy. Whenever I seem to be having a little too much fun for Sira‘s taste, she goes, "You know this isn’t a happy joyride we’re on, right? You’ve got a mission to fulfill!“

Then it’s back to asking around the few hamlets we happen upon. But we haven’t reaped anything but "We know nothing“s – if the people could even take their eyes off of Sira long enough to answer our questions. Not sure what to think of the folks who keep staring at me, even when I’m already leaving. Sira’s not too happy with all the attention either, going as far as to say, "Urgh. I should have just stayed back in the woods and enjoyed as much peace and quiet as one can get there.“

"Are there more of you? Víly, I mean. I’ve never seen any.“

"How’d you know? You don’t even know what we really look like. Maybe some really fat and ugly centipede you stepped on once was actually a víla?“ Much to her amusement, I wince at the thought of anything like that being under my feet. "But yes, there’s a couple more of us. Basically scattered all over the place. We... just don’t like the attention, if I’m honest.“

"And Simmias is your friend regardless?“

"Mine, yes. The other’s... not so much. They think he’s the same as that oaf Orson who’d have loved taking fire to the whole forest because of some nightmares he’s having in bright daylight.“ I look at her sceptically. She is quick to clear her throat and change the subject, "Bunch of bores either ways. I figured I could get away from home for some time. It’s been a while that I’ve travelled.“

Now that’s a surprise. "So you’ve already been here?“

"I’ve been a thousand places, boy. Why else do you think Simmias picked me as your guardian.“

My thoughts slip out of my mouth, "To make sure I have as little fun on my trip as possible?“

"Is that any way to talk to your saviour?!“ She has her arms crossed proudly and glares at me. I don’t like that look in her eyes at all. "Well then, if that’s the way it is, I hope you like getting up extra early.“ I scoff at that, "Yeah? Make me.“

"Oh, you’ll see, I will do just that.“

So, now the night’s dark cloak has been set over the hills, and I am starting to feel that I may have overdone it a little today. My backside’s killing me, and it takes almost all my focus not to have my lids drop down and fall from my horse. Will I just find an inn or something already?!

"Give it up. Just set up camp somewhere nearby and call it a day,“ Sira says as if she has read my mind,  "I’ll need you awake and ready on the morrow. First light, you’ll be getting up.“ She has settled into my pocket and is starting to doze off already, her light having shrunk  in intensity significantly.

"I won’t,“ I tell her, more to remind myself than her of my resolve. And as if there is a tiny ear out there, picking up my words, I can spot a couple of gables over the hilltop. Yes!

My spirits sink, however, when these gables turn out to belong not to an inn, but just a small farm surrounded to all sides by a low wall of bulky cobbles. Aww, please at least let someone be awake and merciful enough to grant me shelter for the night. I find the small yard in front of the dwelling deserted, however, and there’s not a single light to be spotted behind the closed shutters. Just great. Well, off to sleep by the stre-

"Hey, who are you?“ a girl suddenly calls. Where’d that come from? I don’t see anybody. No, wait, up there on the roof! A thin girl, about my age. She’s still fully clothed, and her dark hair is tied into many small braids to cover the sides of her face. What’s she doing up there? At this hour especially?

"Did you not hear me?“ she insists when I still do not answer, "I asked what your name is and what business you have here!“ Her highness is doing a great job at making me introduce myself nicely. But let’s not jump at someone’s throat for once. As calm as I can, I reply, "Sorry, I’m just a traveller and was wondering if maybe you could shelter me for the night.“

"Does this place appear to be a tavern?“

"No…?“

"Unlikely there’ll be beds to spare for the likes of you then.“ If it wasn’t for a few men’s heights between us, I couldn’t care less if she really was a queen like she’s acting to be and would show her just what the likes of me can do.

Then Sira wakes up. "What’s with all the noise…?“ she asks tiredly from my pocket, "We still riding?“ Her light slowly flares up, when suddenly a muffled gasp comes forth from the girl’s mouth. "Olphe’s mercy! I-is that a will-o‘-whisp with you?!“

"A will-o‘-w- Are you kidding me?!“ Sira bursts, "Do I look like a ghost to you?!“ She makes a start for the girl who’s so scared I’m afraid she will fall off the roof if I don’t step in, "Calm down, Sira! She’s just surprised.“ A little bit more hushed I add, "Like anyone who’s met you today.“

Sira only stops to turn back to me and even with her miniscule size I can tell she’s got her hands on her hips and her lips shoved up in an angry pout. "Well, color me just as surprised! I doze off for just a couple of minutes and already you seem to have met a girl. One day from home, too, you’re a quick one, aren’t you?“ I can practically feel the color fading from my face – then returning in an angry shade of red.

"She’s not- I didn’t- She…“

"I might add, that, as of yet, I am still waiting to just be told his name“, the girl helps in a reserved manner. Sira and I both eye her warily. There is an awkward silence. Just when I am about to break it, Sira does it, "I’m Sira. A víla, not a will’o’whisp.“

"And I’m-“

"He’s Marin, some green boy from the woods.“

"And member of the Poor Knightly Order of Doarnb,“ I add with a huff towards that vile bug, "where we’re taught a thing or two about respect and good manners.“

Griselda laughs at that, and even as she finishes, a wide smile remains on her face. She says, "Maybe I was a little quick on judgement. There might be a place for you two to spend the night after all. If you’re content with a pile of hay in the stables, that is.“ Well… better than the bare ground, I suppose. Though outside I might at least be spared the smell of even more horses than Porstellion.

Just as I am about to take her offer, the front door goes, and out comes a hairy giant of a man who looks every bit as pleased as Griselda a few minutes ago. Meaning not at all. Uh oh. That’s certainly not the farmer by the looks of his leather mail and the weapon at his side. His small, sceptic eyes almost thrust into me. Then I notice… they’re resting on my own sword. Suddenly it feels like the biggest mistake to have taken it with me.

He casts a glance up at Griselda. "You shouldn’t be up anymore. Go inside.“ He turns his glare back to me. I could almost swear I’m staring into the face of a snarling-wolf-turned-human. "I’ll take care of this.“

"N-no, Halsänn!“ Griselda cries, "Don’t hurt him! He’s noone. He just asked for shelter in the barn.“ Not avoiding Halsänn’s eyes out of fear I might miss the moment where he jumps for my throat, I almost don’t notice how suddenly I asked for that noble accommodation. But Griselda’s words actually make Halsänn turn his head once more.

I don’t dare breathe, until he finally speaks again, "Well, if you wanna rise at first light and tell the farmer that before we leave…“

"I will!“ Griselda agrees quickly, "I promise!“ He grunts in response and turns to go back inside. I gather my courage and ask, "So are you also travelling? Where are you headed? Maybe we-“

"None o‘yer business.“ He doesn’t even look at me. "Ye missed out on one beatin‘ already, so don’t push your luck, and go to sleep, boy. Sleep as long as ye can, cause I don’t wanna see yer dumb face again tomorrow.“ None of us get another word in, before the door closes behind him.

Geesh, that was one hell of a first impression.

When I look up at Griselda for any explanation of what that just was, she does but shrug apologetically and mouths a silent ‚Good night‘ before climbing back into the house through the window. I’m left with Sira and Porstellion in the silent night. Oh well, I’ll just make the best of it. Thus, I lead Porstellion into the barn, make sure he’s tied fastly to a pole, and let myself drop into a pile of hay without second thought. Couldn’t care less if it’s this or a pile of feathers, it’s wonderful after all that riding.

I’m already dozing off, when Sira lies down besides my face and asks, "Strange people, huh?“

"Mhm. And perhaps just who we were looking for.“

A look to the North

The sun of Meskardh was merciless. Although the morrow had just come, and it was but peeking over a tall, red dune, its light already felt like fire to the skin, turning the desert sand into fields of hot ashes and the rocks into burning coals. Yet, there remained a place where the sun could not get so easily. To the West, where the mountains loomed high, there was a valley, hidden from sight and sun by walls the Gods themselves had put down. Yet had any man been as daring or stupid as to seek anything in these desolate wastes, he would have seen flurries of bright colors above the bowl of jagged rocks. Meskardh‘s harpies were dancing wildly above their city of Khaz’Ksar’Madr.

And the reason for their dance was inside the building to the city’s North, a tall place built of clay bricks so old they had been scorched black by the sun overtime. Despite its crumbling facade, noone dared question the majesty of its denizens. Thus, few serfs paid the young harpy girl sashaying through the galleries much mind. Spinning around on her claws every tenth step or so, she sent her long, ruby hair and billowing, snowwhite pants whipping about her slender, brown body. From its back sprouted a pair of big, red wings, which she happily stretched, every time she turned around, as if it was the first day she had them.

Truth was, this day was in fact her sixteenth name day already. And thus, all she could think while humming a happy tune and prancing about, was, I am the Xh’máh! It’s me! Today I’m finally a woman!

"My, my, if I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder what makes you so especially happy today, Kora,“ a deep, raspy voice said when she almost ran into the tall, orange-feathered harpyr with lines all over his bushy-bearded face. She was grinning widely, when she recognized him. "Cas’hil Nassalph!“ she called cheerfully, "You’re here early!“

"As if I’d take any chances to get stuck in city traffic with that yattering bunch of sisters and brothers I’m cursed with and miss my favorite Kat’hal blossoming into a woman finally,“ Nassalph laughed and embraced Kora. She could feel that his once well-defined body had turned a little softer yet again and saw that his skin was slowly graying. It didn’t change the fact, that he was her favorite Cas’hil, one of her mother’s six husbands. Often she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was her true father after all. Not that she would ever find out.

 When he set her down again, he joked, "Doesn’t seem like you’re just ready yet, though. Or do you plan on wearing shorts to the ceremony later?“

"Only if we can keep Oltieve from catching me until then.“ Kora made an annoyed face when thinking of her mother. "Says I’m to look my finest when the Madr show me their boys. It’s not like they can refuse me if I choose’em, so why’s it necessary that I dress up?“

"Old, dusty traditions, I’m afraid,“ he said, "And also to make sure they’re awed to silence. You’d not believe just what shite I’d have told your mother, had I actually been able to speak when presented to her. A young, stupid boy’s romantic brabble when he may be betrothed to a future Xh.“ His blue eyes – as blue as Kora’s – were shiney with fond memories. "Probably would have picked me all the same, your mother. Smart gal, she was. Is still. I might not have looked the best...“ He grinned mischievously. "But Kora, here’s what you need to know: There’s more to a man than his looks.“

"His mother’s and sisters‘ numbers to add to my raiding forces?“

"Pah, to the windy wastes with that nonsense!“ he spat, and that put an especially wide grin onto her face. "Exactly,“ she agreed, "Just like I told Oltieve when she came to me with that crap! It’ll be me picking my husbands, not her after all!“ They laughed together at that.

Then Nassalph said, "All this talk of Oltieve... I’d really like to see her before the ceremony. Where is she? Better not be fooling around with that damned Romen.“ Koras smile slowly turned into a frown and a low sigh left her lips. "Cas’hil, have you forgotten again? Cas’hil Romen’s long dead. Two years by now. Same as Ab’ya Shal.“

"O-oh... I... I’m terribly sorry, my dear, I... I’m growing a little forgetful these days.“ She waved it off. He was right, he probably hadn’t been her mother’s most pretty husband on her sixteenth name day – and neither had he been her youngest. Quite the opposite actually. Kora hated every time she was reminded of that.

"There you are!“ another voice ripped her from her sadness to replace it with annoyance. Great, Kora thought, now mama’s found me after all.  "I thought I told you to stay in your chambers and wait for me to prepare you for the Choosing later!“ the tall harpy in an elaborately patterned, golden dress, that clung to her subtly curved figure, scolded her. Though twentyfive years Kora’s elder, she looked as young as if she were her older sister rather than her mother. Only thing giving a little bit of insight into her progressing age were her prominent cheekbones and the fact, that she had long stopped growing her hair long and rathered to wear it short as a finger tip now.

Her olive eyes then noticed Nassalph and fluttered their lashes at him. "Oh, hello, Nassalph,“ she smiled, "I should have expected you to be the first to show up.“ He took a graceful bow before her and kissed her hand. "Pleasure seeing you, Oltieve,“ he purred, "I was just talking of you and hoping we could have a minute or two. I’ve awfully missed you while at home.“

"Perhaps later,“ she promised, then turned her glance back at Kora, suddenly fierce and austere again. "A certain wannabe-Xh’máh needs to change into something adequate if she is to attend her own Choosing!“ Kora returned the glare with pleasure.

Nassalph chuckled, "I wouldn’t be surprised if this one grows up into a Xh that does away with keeping all her husbands at home with their quarrelsome siblings and parents.“ Kora’s mother smiled faintly at that and acknowledged the daring quip briefly: "It’s for the good of the tribes, a Xh’s first and foremost concern.“ She looked back to Kora. "And as such she will not defile her coming of age by stirring her to-be-husbands loin too much by showing her legs for all the world to see.“ Kora surrended with a sigh and the roll of an eye, "Alright, alright, I’m coming.“ Waving to Nassalph as she went after her mother, she was thinking, She might get to put me into whatever stupid dress she’s picked out for me... but today’s big surprise will be on her, not me!

* * *

The sun was looming almost right over the round courtyard with the faded mosaic of the Red Magpies‘ family crest, when the Choosing was about to begin. Bright, wooden poles jutted out from the walls all around with colorful banners of Khaz’Ksar’Madr’s proudest tribes hanging off of them and their respective owners sitting atop them, claws wrapped tightly around their seating and wings folded at their back. All but one pole was occupied by the time Kora was carried through the gallery onto the courtyard on a cushioned palanquin, which rested steadily on the shoulders of the Red Magpies‘ four strongest slaves.

Big, round earrings of solid gold adorned Kora, as did a necklace of intricately crafted, golden links, inlaid with diamonds. Her hair had been brushed shiney and tied back into a ponytail, held by a glimmering headpiece with a big orange prism jutting from it. Her freshly groomed plumage seemed to melt into the dark, elegant corset around her belly and her legs were clothed in baggy velvet pants as white as snow. All around her were meek faces, making Kora feel almost like a Xh already, not just Xh’máh. Even Nassalph, who was sitting with his mother’s clan, seemed humbled by her appearance. Maybe these clothes weren’t so bad after all. At least after she had insisted on a personal touch, a tan headband with red-and-blue patterns.

She gave the empty pole only a quick glance. That was just as much of a custom by now as anything else that was going to happen today. It was the pole reserved for the Headwind Tribe, who hadn’t attended a Xh’máh’s Choosing in hundreds of years. They were fine with not accompanying the future Xh on her raids and so was everybody present with not waiting for them and rather continuing the ceremony.

Oltieve, from a gallery above the courtyard, called, "Madr of Khaz’Ksar’Madr, I present you my eldest daughter, Kora of the Red Magpies and as of today, her sixteenth nameday, a woman in her own right, chosen to follow me as Xh of this city, leader of the harpy tribes of Meskardh in all and every matters.“ Kora contained a grin. The fun part was approaching. "Yet no Xh must go on a raid alone or be forced to spend her nights in solitude. She will need loyal advisors, comrades in battle and on travels, sworn to her in blood and flesh, and mates to carry on our proud family as to delight Great Uljha‘ike. Do you hear me, Madr of Khaz’Ksar’Madr?“

"We hear you!“ the oldest women from the tribes, one styled crazier than the other, called as one.

"Then I ask you to aid your Xh‘máh! What will you give to her?“

"No less than our sons and grandsons will do!“

"Let her see them then, so she may choose from among them whom to take for her husbands!“ At that, a serf brought in dozens of young harpyrs, tall and handsome. One moment they were full of confidence, and smiling, certain of their victory. But as her Cas’hil Nassalph had predicted, as soon as they laid eyes on Kora, they grew humble and awe-struck, lowering their heads and kneeling before here.

"Show yourself to me!“ Kora ordered them to raise their heads. Can’t say these old hags haven’t got good taste, she thought, taking in the sights of the boys‘ copper and golden bodies with great pleasure. Kora couldn’t refrain from grinning anymore. With a clap of her hands she ordered her palanquin to be set down, and stepped off of her soft cushions to slowly approach the youths. She had rehearesed every single step with her mother a dozen times to look as graceful as was possible for a mortal.

At the raise of her arms, music began to play from the gallery above, a fast and wild tune that got her feet stirring. One by one, she urged the boys forward, spun around them, followed the rhythm ever faster, as the young men tried their best to keep up with her. They fluffed the plumage on their chests to impress her, stretched their wings and attempted to embrace her with them, but she fled every one of them. Once one boy could not hold with her swiftness anymore, it was the next’s turn, and before she knew it, Kora had danced with every single one of them. Beads of sweat were showing on her skin, and she was breathing heavily.

She dropped back into the pillows and one of the serfs quickly fanned her some cool air, as she caught her breath. Many of the madr were smiling, sure of their sons‘ proven prowess. All those, who were able to wed one of their men with the Xh’máh, would be Madr’Illuhem, councillors and allies to the future Xh and her loyal members on the city council. Those denied would join the Headwinds as Madr’Olharem, the opposition and forced to raid all by themselves.

Kora, once reposed, announced, "These are all fine young men you‘re offering me, proud Madr of Khaz’Ksar’Madr. A tough choice whom to send into the desert rather than having him by my side as well.“ She felt her mother’s glare on her neck. She had given her clear instructions on which boy – and by proxy, which family – to choose. Too bad it’s my decision, if she likes it or not.

"A Xh can only do with the best six, and thus, must choose,“ an elder harpy reminded her. Her feathers were a dark green with black dots all over them, and Kora recalled her name was Zalva, of the Mountain Griphons. "It is tradition,“ Zalva said.

"Yeah, yeah,“ Kora replied with a shrug, "Traditions older than my greatgreatgrandmother.“ As the madr’s eyes widened, she quickly added, "Don’t fret, I‘ll make my decision with whom to share my bed! But not just yet.“ She could hear her mother gasp in shock and saw the confused and offended faces of all the Madr around her.

"But when?! Today is your Choosing!“ one insisted. Kora acknowledged her with a confident smile. "Do you not find it funny?“ Kora pondered, "A Xh’máh just being given things, while our people have lived in these wastes for centuries now, where no blade of grass grows and no sheep stays long? All we call our own, our food, our fabrics, gold and riches – we take it all from others. We let dimwitted peasants and merchants do all the work for us, and when the time is ripe, we snatch their flour and bread and gold, enchain them and do with them as we please. That is what a harpy of Meskardh does, isn’t it?“ Contently she noticed clarity slowly taking root in a few faces. She continued, "I will not just be given a crown and a man – I will take them! I shall prove to you, proud Madr, that I will be the greatest Xh in all of Hesproys‘ history!“

At that one of the old women screamed brazenly, "Us Glimmerfeathers have recently taken by surprise a carawan so big, that our granaries will not run empty for yet another two months! I even heard rumors of the Mountain Griphons daring to raid a few villages in Ardnas. How are you going to trump that, Xh’máh?!“

"Hold your tongue, Helmaie!“ Zalva hissed, when already another harpy began to shout mockeries, only to have the favor returned by another Madr. Their quarrel only died off when, above all their voices, Kora’s laughter could be heard.

"No simpler question answered than that!“ she stated, "I will claim something you lot could only dream of! Something no harpy has ever held in her hands yet. The treasure of treasures. And who’ll help me, will always be welcome among my family, and have his fair share in all the riches I am thinking of gathering for Khaz’Ksar’Madr.“ She looked at the harpyrs. "And of course I will not deny myself to any man either who will prove his fealty to me on this quest.“

"Never!“ Helmaie scramed, "This is not as our ancestors did! We shan’t follow anyone denying our tribe the respect it deserves!“

"Pah, who needs the Glimmerfeathers anyways?“ a harpy of the Cinnobrewings scoffed, "Join the Headwinds then!“ Kora couldn’t pick whose face delighted her more. That of that old crow Helmaie as what she had just done sunk in, or her mother Oltieve’s, when she realized how Kora was playing the city’s proudest crones for childish, petty fools.

"Xh’máh, us Silverclaws will follow you to Hell and back!“

"Don’t make me laugh! We of the Copper Eagles will prove ourselves more than worthy of flying and fighting by the Xh’máh’s side!“ Before long the palace of the Red Magpies turned into a pen of crazed chickens. Even the harpyrs began to speak, vowing on their mothers and Uljha’ike to serve Kora until they ran out of blood to give for her. They swarmed her feet with kisses, went on their knees before her and bowed countless times.

"Seize this madness at once!“ Oltieve screamed suddenly. As if she had thrown a blanket of silence over the entire courtyard, everything went quiet and looked up at her. She glared at Kora with a ferocity the girl had never seen in her mother’s face before. And the words Oltieve spoke next were not adressed to anyone but her, "The Xh’máh has picked a hard trial! A trial which will truly show if she is indeed fit to one day rule this city and all the tribes living within its walls. It is but common courtesy to let her voice be heard and have her tell us just what it is she is hoping to claim as hers that it will dwarf any other treasure.“

"Easy,“ Kora grinned at her mother, unintimidated, "I will claim the Godesses‘ Gift, the Trident of Oreichalcum!“