001 PROLOGUE: WITHOUT A NAME
002 CHAPTER 01: OF GODS AND MONSTERS
003 CHAPTER 02: AN UNLIKELY EMISSARY
004 CHAPTER 03: AN ADVENT TO SHADOWS
005 INTERMEZZO: WHITE NOISE
006 CHAPTER 04: SEEDS OF DESTRUCTION, THE BOY-AVATAR AWAKENS
007 CHAPTER 05: STORM ON THE CELESTIAL CASTLE
008 CHAPTER 06: THE PATH TO DECIMATION
009 INTERMEZZO: THE LAST PAWN
010 CHAPTER 07: EIGHT YEARS AGO
011 FINAL CHAPTER: THE WISDOM FROM FRIENDS
The wind was warm and tinged with salt as it blew on my face. The merchant ship I was aboard sailed through Shamar River a few hours past noon as expected, and was about to dock at the Basin of Rebirth in but a short while. It was a rare chance sailing a ship in this place, as merchants very seldom take this route -- only when delivering supplies to the outlying bindstone. Otherwise, this area was generally avoided because of the specters and other undead lingering about -- not to mention Dhan assassins and mercenaries from less than reputable Guilds. This ship had little to worry when it came to such things, of course. I noted upon boarding two nights ago the well-armed and armored Guardians patrolling the ship's deck. They even had a Warlock on board, and couple of Priests. And then there's me, a Master of a notable Guild. But of course, the ship's captain and crew didn't know that. All they saw was an old Dekan robed in a cloak of drab with enough Crones to pay for safe passage through the waters.
I stepped off the port and walked on without looking back. I had paid my coin and that was that. I was not the type to chat about and linger. I had very few friends. One of whom I will be seeing again very soon, after years of being apart.
I surveyed the landscape as I walked. Not much has changed from when I was here last. The forests were as thick and the roads as unforgiving. My hand crept to the belt underneath my cloak to check for the hilt of my zhen, and I was satisfied to feel its worn length and grooves on my fingers. I quickened my pace and pulled my cloak closer to me despite the heat.
Eventually, I saw a pillar of blue light in the distance. The Armenes Altar Bindstone, no doubt. A figure stood up, the Bindstone Keeper. Blue robes unique to their Order billowed out about her as a particularly strong wind blew past. She looked towards my direction and raised a hand in greeting. "Well met, friend!" she called out, in perfect Draconic. I was only slightly surprised, as she did not have the blue skin my race shared. Then again, Bindstone Keepers are known to be masters of the language of all the free races -- among other things.
I raised my hands in response, indicating no ill intent. "Well met, Keeper," I greeted. As I neared, I noticed this was a new face -- not the Keeper I have known to secure this area many years ago.
"It is pleasant to see a stranger once in a while, good Dekan. The merchants and suppliers I meet are all good people, to be sure, and I welcome their company, but I have always believed that strangers are friends one has never met," she said good-naturedly.
I could not help warming to this character. I relaxed my guard. "Wise words, Keeper. It is a pity someone as kind would be left alone in a desolate place as the Basin of Rebirth," I said, surprising myself with the sincerity of my words.
"That is true, I do miss the hubbub and noise of the cities..." she said wistfully. "But my Sister Keeper, that is, the one who used to guard this bindstone, passed on, and someone had to take her place."
Judging from her tone, this had happened recently. I had heard of stories of Keepers passing on to their final deaths. Their magic, although attuned to the Weave of Rohan, is still somewhat of a different nature. As I understand it, after years of training within their Order, they become beings of pure magic themselves, although I myself am quite skeptical. But it is known that when they die, their spirits are beyond recall by any magic. Perhaps the Elves and Sages would understand this more. I am a Knight and my strength lies in the steel I wield, not in the spiritual arts. "That is unfortunate," I said, empathy lining my voice, "both for you and for your Sister Keeper."
"Indeed. But duty is our most sublime ideal, good Dekan. Peerless it has been within our Order, and peerless it shall be. I daresay not even love can equal its calling -- love, which my Sister Keeper made the mistake of pursuing." She smiled enigmatically. "I am sure you understand, being a warrior of duty."
I smiled to mask my surprise. Keepers are not to be trifled with -- not this one at least; I sensed a thread of warning underneath her otherwise friendly tone. "There is no higher honor than fulfilling one's duty, Keeper, and I intend to keep mine," I agreed, and proceeded to state my business. "I have received a summons from a friend, needing help harvesting a rare herb that is only found in this area," I explained, my mind relaying to my lips the story I had concocted in case a stranger was curious enough to ask. "He is currently waiting for me near the Altar of Armenes."
She may have believed me, or she may have not, but she was polite enough not to press further. Their power is their great triumph and tragedy -- enough to move the histories of the entire continent with but a whim, but bound by duty to serve and not interfere with the affairs of the free races. I do not envy their station. "Quite understandable. The altar of the great dragon has been overrun by a grotesquerie of demons. It would prove wise to have a strong warrior as a companion. Very well, then. I suppose you would not want to dawdle," she said sagely.
"Yes, I must be on my way. But before I depart, may I know your name, Keeper?"
"Jasmine. Yours, good Dekan?"
And my mind relayed to my lips the name I had concocted in case a stranger was curious enough to ask.
I dismounted and unsummoned the gon I was riding a fair distance away from the Altar, deciding to walk the rest of the way and take my time to think. As I neared the vicinity of the desecrated grounds, however, I picked up the scent of a band of Devoter Assassins. Not too urgent -- I assume they were merely passing by, or they had just finished what it was they set out to do. Instinctively, I pressed myself against a wall of stone teeming with wild vines -- trusting my garb to hide me from their sight, and the vines to hide my scent. It would take but a few moments to dispatch of them, I know, but I would rather not engage them -- not here on this holiest of places.
I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing, letting my mind settle into the shallow trance I normally took when I used to go on espionage missions. It has been a long time and I thought I had forgotten, but I feel as if I'd only done this mere days ago. I allowed myself a smile as a stream of memories washed through my mind.
All too unbidden, however, came the more recent memory of why I was here now in the first place. The smile flew from my lips like a startled bird, and my mood soured. I clutched my cloak closer and tighter to me, as if to ward off any other errant thoughts. Have those damned Assassins left yet? I wondered instead. I peered through the corner and sure enough, I saw their retreating backs. I silently let out a slow stream of breath as I crept in between rocks and bushes until I got to the incline leading to the center of the Altar. Only then did I relax.
I took off the hood of my cloak and started walking up, wondering about the time when Dekans did not have to sneak about in their own holy place. No one from the free races set foot here anymore. Only the odious presence of the assassins of the Devoter clan and packs of wild drexters stand unholy vigil to this once mighty tribute to the great Armenes. This vast, round, open space had no walls and no roof -- the forests that stretch on for miles and miles, the rise and fall of the earth, and the flowing River of Shamar all encircling cradle its grounds, and the arcing sky above is as holy as the ground it blankets. So it has been for Armenes, so it will be for us.
I walk to the center where a slab of stone of what once must have been a relic to the Last Blue Dragon stood cold and neglected. I knelt on one knee and placed one blued hand to the damp, leaf-strewn ground before it -- a posture of prayer and deep reverence of all who have dwelt in glorious Rev'Deca -- and whispered a forgotten prayer in Old Draconian these grounds had not heard in perhaps hundreds of years.
"May your light shine forever," I said towards the end, as all Dekan prayers are supposed to end.
"May your light shine forever," came a familiar voice from behind. I stood up and turned to look at source of the affirmation, expecting to see a face older than the one I had at the forefront of my memory. But the surprise on my face must have been too obvious that the other Dekan couldn't help letting out a hearty laugh. It barreled into me, the suddenness of memory sharpening itself into reality before me -- apart from the armor he was wearing, the face of the laughing Dekan was no different from the one I'd known many, many years ago. He still wore his silver hair long and tied loosely at the back, just below his shoulders, and strands of it fell to his eyes. His jaw was sharp, but instead of bringing the entirety of his smooth face a stern and hard look, it only seemed to accentuate each emotion he expressed -- mirth, this time. Even the color of his armor was the same -- black on deep crimson. Then again, that has always been the color of his Guild -- that is, the Guild that he is the Master of, and the Guild I used to be a part of.
"Aristarchus," I said, managing to steady the confusion in my mind, finally, to a name.
"Old friend," he said, eyes of pure white smiling, and approached me for a loose embrace. "You have changed a lot -- trading your armor of drakescale with the deepest of blacks equal only to a thousand Rev'Decan midnights to a cloak of... of..." and he pulled away, exaggeratedly gesturing with arms spread the confusion before him, "... of this! I only hope that your love for good wine and women is still as ardent as it used to be!"
"The wine, yes. It is a bond as strong as our kinship, Aris, old friend," I smiled, finally "The women... not as much as before." I should have expected this from Aristarchus, always unchanging, always seemingly void of worry. But for all his capriciousness, he sees to his Guild as a Lord would his Keep.
He clucked his tongue at my remark and shook his head. "We have been comrades since our youths, playing at the shores of Bowstring Bay, but for the life of me, I will never understand your decision to leave my Guild in place of one so shadowy," he said, trying to sound regretful, but the smile never leaves his face. We have had this conversation a hundred times over in the past and bringing it up was moot at best, but it was comforting, in a way that a brother greets a prodigal brother. "Granted, your Guild has established a strong reputation across all the continents and throughout the histories of Rohan, but I have never trusted your predecessors. Nor have they trusted me, of course, but you know how Guild Ashmore conducts itself, do you not, --" He frowned. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak, but no voice comes out. He frowned again. "Rakkhasi!" he swore. "It's that blasted confounding spell, isn't it?"
This time, it was my turn to laugh. "Yes, unfortunately. I had taken extra precautions before I left Del Lagos and I cast a derivation of the spell on myself. I will be able to interact as much as I can, save uttering my real name, but as my circle of influence departs, my presence will have been easily forgotten. Which reminds me." I produced a small amber pebble from one of my belt pockets and showed it to Aristarchus. "A Guild Stone, containing the same spell. We will be needing this for the task at hand."
The expression on Aristarchus' face at once became one of contempt, as he folded his arms across his chest. "Ah, yes, your dream." He said the last word with a sneer. He had told me it was folly, the first time I spoke with him about it three days ago -- through magical means, of course. He had known me long enough not to be swayed by dreams and the whims of fate. We happily left such notions to the Elves and Sages, finding comfort in the solid truth of steel and sinew. But it is precisely because of this that Aristarchus had agreed to meet with me. This particular dream had swayed one such as me. "Very well, follow me. I brought three of my men as I have promised. You can explain to them what you have seen, and we shall let them decide for themselves if they want to partake of this madness."
He led me to a nearby glade, a short distance off the incline opposite where I came. The three Dekans who were camped stood at our approach. Two were male, one was female, all of them armored in the same black and crimson of Guild Ashmore, all Sages, and all masters of Evolving, I sense it. "Ekaterina, Konstantin, Corvinus," Aris called as we neared; the Dekans nodded as their names were called. He gestured to my direction. "This is... a good friend of mine." And then to me, "All three joined Ashmore after your time."
I nodded back to the three before us and gestured for them to sit as Aris and I sat in front of them. I began. "Peace. I come before you humbly, as I have presented myself to your Guild Master, to request for your assistance. No doubt Aristarchus has told you that this particular mission requires the strength of spirit only Sages possess." I paused, suddenly hesitant. The one called Konstantin urged me to go on. "The Goddess Marea visited me in a dream. She showed me the ruin of all the free races in Rohan: In eight years' time, a great light will be seen from the Celestial Castle Rakhon, and that is the very last vision each living soul will witness until nothing else remains -- all to resurrect All-Father Ohn."
They were silent. Three pairs of eyes, the purest of pearls, were upon me. "What is it that we must do?" asked the one called Ekaterina. I was taken aback -- much because of the question as well as the voice that asked it. Her voice caught me by the neck, like winding threads of silver. She laughed lightly, as a nymph would in front of a satyr; her earrings sparkled in the stray afternoon sun. "Do not be surprised, Nameless One. As you have said, we are Sages. We are no strangers to the realm of dreams. You have indeed been touched by divinity, we sense it. A ruinous one, true, but the mark is there," she pointed to my chest. I glanced at what she was pointing to, but saw nothing. She shrugged and hugged her knees without another word.
"Indeed. The Gods are much like mortals, bound by fate and circumstance. Power they may possess, but immune they are not to the webs they weave for or against each other. She Who Has Fallen From Grace must have seen your thread of fate cross hers, and has called upon you now to act," said the one called Corvinus.
"I do not trust her," I confessed, unsure of my words now. I refuse to be a pawn, I wanted to say. "But I cannot turn a blind eye to what has been shown to me."
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Aristarchus, my dearest friend, my brother in all but blood. He would have done the same if he were in my skin. I drew all the strength that I could from his touch. "I say again, Brother, what is it that we must do?" he asked.
"Very well," I started. And I relayed to them how, in the dream, Marea showed me the emergence of Roha's avatar from the Caravan of the Seven Swords. This avatar must be killed before it grows to maturity and learns of its power. If this avatar were allowed to exist further, it will trigger a chain of events involving the loss of the True Leaf of Ohn from the Elven Queen Rima Regenon, the demise of a Dark Elf Wizard at the hands of his own Severed Spirit reincarnated again and again to harvest a destructive amount of magical energy, ultimately leading to the devastation in Celestial Castle Rakhon eight years hence, and the decimation of all within Rohan.
"The Caravan of Seven Swords sets out in three days from Ash Valley in Del Lagos," says Konstantin. "Queen Rima Regenon as well, from her majesty's seat in Vena. The Harvest Festival will take place in the Harbor of Ehres."
"Then that is when we must act. Two units will initiate the attack on the Caravan and two units will guard the Elven Queen's entourage."
"We kill everyone in the Caravan?" asked Ekaterina, the fins on her back bristling just a bit. Do my earrings dazzle you? she might as well have asked. Aristarchus never fails to attract those who live by the sharp edge of their zhen, it seems. My Guild may thrive on working in the shadows, but we kill only if we must. I cannot ask this of them -- the slaughter of innocents for a dream sent by the Fallen Goddess. The Conclave of the Pure most especially will vehemently oppose. Ashmore, however, has no such qualms. The reaping of lives for the greater good was the vow they took during initiation.
I nodded slightly, careful not to excite Ekaterina too much. "We cannot take any chances. No one is to be spared."
"Then one unit should be sufficient to guard the Elven Queen," suggested Aris. "Corvinus and I shall lead this unit. You, Ekaterina, and Konstantin will lead a larger unit -- preferrably Knights -- to assault the Caravan. They are mostly Human?"
"Yes. There are some Half-Elf mercenaries and quite a few Priests, but the Seven Swords themselves are mostly Human Guardians and Defenders," affirmed Konstantin.
"Excellent!" Aris exclaimed, clapping his thigh to punctuate his glee. "Then further details shall be discussed on the morrow. Tonight will be all about meat and mead, my friends! Brother of mine, we go by bindstone, and not those dreadful ships, correct?"
"I --"
"Then it is settled! Some of our men will teleport earlier than usual to various bindstones to avoid suspicion. Now, Brother," Aris said with a dangerous sparkle in his ivory eyes, "Are you not craving for fish?"
Konstantin is dead, and Ekaterina and I are struggling despite being Evolved. How can one Guardian be so... resilient? I parried a swordthrust with my claws and countered with a lunge. Blood sprayed onto my face. I sneered and doubled back, and I discovered to my chagrin that I had only managed to wound his side. I leapt and did a backward somersault to avoid the Human's arcing steel. Ekaterina, bleeding and weak as she is, took this opportunity to let out another stream of fiery breath. The Human raised his shield, but the force knocked him to the ground. Ekaterina pounced, baring her fangs, bloodied claws glinting menacingly in the moonlight. But the Guardian was too quick. He slashed upwards, sending the female dragon's left arm flying. Ekaterina's wailing was nothing like I had ever heard. The Human stood up and resumed his stance as I ran to Ekaterina's side. Surely, this must be Roha's avatar.
Just then, the throbbing of blood in my ears was pierced by a crystal clear voice, it was as if the moon itself had spoken. "Father!" it said. And the Guardian's defenses crumbled like sand. Ekaterina screamed for her kill one last time, and then there was nothing else but pure white.
It had been two turns of the moon since the passing of the incident that has been dubbed as the Tragedy of the Seven Swords. Aristarchus and I have remained in the territories of the south, drifting from tavern to tavern, gathering wisps of information, making sure no familiar names were dropped. And when at last we were satisfied any involvement of Guild Ashmore has been purged, I saw to my friend's departure. "Once again, I grieve for the loss of Ekaterina and Konstantin. They were both brave and steadfast, and loyal to their Master."
Aris waved a hand, as if to dispel a noxious smoke. "Think nothing of it, Brother. We are bound by the same vows as any other Guild is bound -- to carry out one's duty. I am sure their spirits marched on into the Great Blue as warriors." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Although I must admit, I will miss Ekaterina particularly. I have grown quite fond of her... earrings." And then he laughed.
The smell of Einhoren dusk stirs the air, and the bustle of the evening crowd is rising. As Aristarchus and I rounded a hill, the walls of the great Human city loomed before us. "It is time for us to part once again, my friend," Aris said, dismounting and unsummoning his gon. He turned to me for an embrace before he took out his Portal Stone to Rev'Deca. "The True Leaf of Ohn is safe and secret. Corvinus is honorable -- he will not tell a soul. Not you, not me." He was saying this without looking at me, just fingering the soft, smooth stone in his hand, eyes towards the reddened sky.
I turned my eyes to what he was looking at, unsure of what it could be. We were both silent for a time, letting the tumult of uncertainty pound its waves in our hearts. Already it has begun -- the True Leaf of Ohn is not in the possession of the Elven Queen anymore. All I need to find is the Dark Elf Wizard -- and Roha's avatar. As if sensing my thoughts, Aristarchus clutched my shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. He took a step forward and looked back at me and smiled. Without words, he activated the Portal Stone and, in a heartbeat, he was gone.
I waited until the last sparks of magic dissipated and then I walked the rest of the way to my rooms in Einhoren. Since I had been recruited to this Guild, Einhoren has been my home. Without family, that is true, but still a home. Human children ran past me as I entered the gates. Hunters have just gone through with the day's game, ready to be skinned and cleaned for the evening market. The man at the Sundries whose name I can't quite remember tipped his hat to me, and I nodded in response.
I thought of making my way to Clare's shed about a dagger I had asked her to reforge when a little girl of about five summers stopped and stood in front of me, a bunch of roses in her hand. She separated one and held it out to me, "A rose for your lady, sir?"
She had dark brown hair and large, round, chestnut eyes. I smiled at her and took the red blossom. Her face was pale and her dress smelled of the smoke from forged steel. "Do you work for Clare, little one?"
"No," she said, looking at her feet. She held out her hand. "Two Crones, please."
I knelt in front of her and handed her a pouch heavy with crones. "What is your name?"
She was still looking at her feet and I had to strain to hear her speak. "Rosalind," she said.
