[2006/04] Shining Runes and Shadowed Hands

[Ziv]

[turbine]

http://ac.turbine.com/?page_id=454

Ardry sat cross-legged by the campfire, writing out a letter in the flickering light.

Dearest Uncle Aliester,
My latest sojourn into the islands settled by the Viamontians has turned up a wealth of information. It seems that the rumors of the new Shadowhunter armor are true. There is a master smith of the Alduressa family who has set up his forge not far from Silyun. He has been making significant strides in learning how to infuse the strengths of the crystal shards and shadow fragments into his own suits of armor, much as you and your colleagues did in the days when the Hopeslayer's spawn stalked the land. This Iian di Alduressa has made enough progress, in fact, that he had no need of the advanced notes that you wrote for him. Rest assured that I spent a good long time trying to divine his disposition and intentions, and he does not seem to be an Aluvian-hating, bloodthirsty killer like you feared he might be.

I will be back to the residence soon to bring you my latest collections. It appears that winter has finally broken, though I would still encourage you to leave your windowless basement study to see this for yourself. I would also have you inspect a weapon I found in a chest in the dark valley. It bears runes that I am unable to decipher myself, and it pulses with an alien energy.

I have only one task left: I found a portal gem on the corpse of a powerful Viamontian mage that I encountered in the Halaetan wilds. As soon as I have investigated the gem's destination, I will return.

Your dutiful nephew,

Ardry

He signed his name with a flourish and looked around for the blob of sealing wax. At the edge of the firelight, near his pack, he spied a small, dark shape. Some kind of furred animal, rooting around in his pack... He reached for his sword, afraid that the beast was a Carenzi or some other variety of undersized but vicious animal. The animal moved closer into the firelight, and Ardry sighed with relief when he saw it was a brown baby rabbit.

His relief turned to aggravation, however, when he saw that the rabbit had been gnawing on his stick of sealing wax. "Hey!" he barked at the baby creature. It froze momentarily, then bolted into the night, presumably towards whatever den it had crawled out of. Ardry salvaged the remains of his wax, melted the end, and sealed his letter.

His letter completed, Ardry reached into his pack and pulled out the glowing portal gem that he'd taken from the vanquished Royal Inquisitor. He ran his hands over the cool facets of the gem. He put it down, glancing between it and the warm fire. He picked up the bottle at his side and drained the last few drops of the beer, one of Duke Raoul's fortified brews.

Ardry had made a career out of throwing himself into dangerous situations without seriously considering what dire peril lay ahead of him. He had plunged headlong into portals guarded by Virindi, Tumeroks, Lugians, and more recently into the torture lairs of a mad king's most lethal soldiers. He had become intimately familiar with the taste of dirt in all parts of Dereth, from the charred, chemical tang of the rock in the Obsidian Plains to the smooth, rich loam of the northern highlands. He had awakened in front of a lifestone more often than he had awakened in his own bed. And yet, when he looked at the softly glimmering gem in his hand now, he felt true fear.

Ardry sighed once more and picked up his new sword. He stared into the glowing pattern at the base of the blade, then took a few practice swings with it. He stood up, shouldered his pack on unbending shoulders, and dropped the portal gem on the ground. With one swift motion, he crushed it beneath his boot heel. A portal appeared in front of him. Before he could even hesitate, he threw himself forward.

The wrenching of portal space subsided after a time. Ardry opened his eyes in a dark cavern. He could only make out the dimmest contours of the rock walls around him. The light from the glowing sigil on his sword did little to illuminate his surroundings. The light served only to cast a sickly blue pall on his own hand.

He heard a low shuffling noise. The echoes of the cavern confused his senses, and he spun wildly, looking for the source of the movement. At the far end of the cavern, in a distant patch of darkness deeper than the dark around it, four pairs of purple eyes appeared. He gripped his sword tightly, holding his breath, listening. Seemingly from all around, he heard other things shuffling in to surround him. He heard them suck in the stale air of the cavern and hiss at him.

[Ziv]

[turbine]

http://ac.turbine.com/?page_id=458

Count Dardante sat cross-legged in a dark chamber, waiting. Nodes of magical energy glimmered on the walls high over his head, casting a faint purple glow through the room. The air was heavy with a fetid, swampy odor. The room was not notably cold, but goose prickles arose on his flesh, he who had summoned and bound a thousand spirits before.

The latest summoned spirit, bound into a body of animated flesh in this chamber halfway between worlds, shuffled forward from its shadowed den. It didn't come fully into Dardante's vision, but remained a slowly swaying silhouette. The thing's eyes were bound and covered, but Dardante could feel the ancient malevolence in its gaze. The mage and the spirit regarded each other for long, breathless moments. The waiting turned into a contest of wills. Finally, patience exhausted, Dardante spoke first, and he could sense the spirit's self-satisfaction even in this minor victory.

"Let us speak again of the Black Spear of the Kemeroi," he said, knowing that the very word "Kemeroi" would anger the bound spirit.

The words of an ancient language echoed in Dardante's mind in response: "We have spoken of this more times than I care to remember, wizardling. If you want to know more of those profane leeches on the body of Creation, summon one of them, if you dare."

Dardante smiled. "I dare more than you know, but I am not as foolish as that, meat puppet."

"No, your foolishness takes other forms," the spirit agreed, almost amiably. "But that is an interesting choice of insult. You have treated with the Cloaked Wind... more foul parasites who nibble away at the life essence of others. Truly, like seeks like."

"Believe it or not, I did not bind you here just to exchange insults."

"You bound me here for a futile purpose. I cannot tell you all that you wish to know about the source of the Black Spear's power. To learn more than what I have told you, you must treat with the Shadow, and not with my kind."

"Your kind fought endless wars against the Living Shadow. How better to learn of them than to interrogate their ancient enemies?"

"There are other mortals in your realm who know much of Grael. They openly seek to bring him back, but they are mistaken in many of their beliefs. They believe him imprisoned, when he is merely... asleep."

"They believe him imprisoned because of an elaborate ruse, meant to misdirect their efforts."

"I know of the ruse. It amused me, to see the blind poking their fingers in the eyes of the blind."

"I want information, not mockery, spirit. Or do I have to subject your corpse-prison to further indignities?" Dardante knew that being forced to inhabit a shell of dead flesh was a hideous torment to these spirits, and even worse to be tortured in that shell and subjected to long-forgotten sensations of physical pain.

"I mean that your clever wizardling servants may have distracted the cult, but you are still no closer to the truth than they, and there are things they know that you do not."

"How could that be so? They are a band of overreaching sellswords and hedge wizards, loathed and hunted by their own kind, while my explorations have been backed by the strength of a kingdom. Do not lie to me again," Dardante cautioned. He had caught the spirit in a lie once before, and he had tortured it for three days in retribution. Not for the first time, he ground his teeth together in frustration that his binding magic was not strong enough to use the voice of command on a spirit this powerful.

"They know what you do not because they have given much of themselves to their quest. They have plunged into the water to find that which they seek, while you and your King would stand on the shore and peer through the waves, hoping to catch a glimpse of it."

"Are all of your kind given to such tiresome metaphors?"

The bound spirit's dry husk of a body shook with mocking laughter. "I find it amusing that you and your King have immersed yourselves so thoroughly in the teachings of my people and the trappings of our power, but you failed to absorb any of our knowledge."

"Explain what you mean, spirit," Dardante said, through clenched teeth.

"You are a fool. You seek great power but you will not take what risks are necessary to grasp such power. You must... sacrifice. My people knew this. We knew it in our bones, and we gave the sweetest portions of our bounty to those who gave us power. You seek only to steal. To take without giving, to make a dishonest bargain. You may treat with other mortals in this way, but the Wheel of All Things does not haggle." The spirit paused for dramatic effect. "Nor do the Kemeroi. The Black Spear found this out, to his own everlasting regret."

Dardante snorted in contempt. "Spare me the moralizing, spirit. Your kind died out when the Kemeroi overpowered your tentacled gods. I need no lessons in the taking of power from a race of failed swamp wizards. I have summoned you, bound you, and extracted knowledge from you, without sacrificing anything to you."

"My kind are not as dead as you would like to think. And your sacrifice has yet to come, meat puppet," the spirit said, as the animated corpse rattled with laughter once more.

[Ziv]

[turbine]

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