Journeys

Journeys

By Malavian Kripnar

The earth hummed with energy in rhythm with the trees swaying in the breath of the earth while the light of heaven radiated glory unhindered by clouds or the dim memory of night. Grim Mortbane did not force himself to silence, but flowed with the ebb of nature and life all about him. The Scythe that had claimed so much life sang a peaceful tune as it cut through the nothingness following the forms of the Dervish. Grim’s awareness stretched outward as a presence abruptly crashed through the foliage. In a moment he knew what it was as he broke the flow of energies and attempted to regain the center while his eyes lit on the bushes not far away. The pig squealed in terror as in fast pursuit a ravenously enthusiastic beast of teeth, claws and downy fur charged out raking at the swine’s hind quarters with a wild paw strike. The clumsy attempt rewarded the assailant with a face full of grass and weeds as he tumbled wildly to the ground. The pig with wanton enthusiasm vanished into the brush shrilling it’s thanks to Melandru. The young Charr fought hard to get back to his four limbed charge, but was stopped in his tracks by Mortbane’s admonishing tone, “Roan…!”

The fledgling’s ears flattened as he turned with surprisingly innocent eyes to look back from his leonine face at his adoptive father. He picked absently at the nub of one of his horns as he did his best to straighten, “Yes…” He flicked angrily at a weed that persisted in clinging to an ear, “Yes DA,” the plant remnant met its match as it finally fell away, “YES DA!”

“What have I told you?” Grim murmured sternly.

It was a struggle for the three year old to use words still, “Lots.” He was nearly four feet tall already and was frighteningly capable physically in comparison to any human of similar age. Grim had to keep reminding himself that despite the mass and instincts, he was still dealing with a child…a ferociously hungry child able to gulp down his food live and kicking, but a child nonetheless. “You tell lots ALL de time,” Roan groaned.

Grim glowered disapprovingly. “You can’t simply hunt on instinct. You need to know your prey. When you know what the prey will do, you will be there before it is.”

The youngster did not care for education and was already building a fierce independence. Life wasn’t easy for a young Charr living amongst humans, even on the fringes of their society. “I NO want ta be prey! Me hunter! Me…OWWWW!”

“And you must not let your temper lead you into trouble,” Grim muttered as he returned the shaft of the Scythe to his side. “And now….” He grinned wickedly, “YOU DE PREY!” as he rushed forward arms waving manically.

The wild child’s eyes widened with mock terror, “Ayyeeeee!!!” With that he bolted into the nearest foliage as Grim gave chase. The young Charr was already as fast as most adult men on foot and would undoubtedly be that much faster when older. They’d been forced to move further from the community as Roan grew stronger. He couldn’t play with the other children without constant supervision. His physical abilities outstripped the youngsters and his lack of maturity made him a bad match for the other children. Humans lacked the leathery hides, horns, cat-like incisors and ungainly strength that made the Charr so formidable. The boy was becoming a full-time occupation for the once proclaimed Master of the Winds. Yet, there was something enjoyable in the constant challenges.

It shouldn’t be mistaken that the community did not provide support or lacked gratitude for the Dervish, but there was an increased apprehension in their eyes as his young son grew ever more…fierce. Grim was reminded of this as they rushed by some foraging locals. He could see the apprehension fade slightly as they sought to mask their feelings upon seeing Grim in pursuit of his charge. They even bravely produced smiles to appease if the affront had been perceived. They could act relaxed around the strangest beasts bound by Melandru’s yoke, but they instinctively new there would be no such leash for the rapidly growing Charr save for his father’s presence.

Perhaps, because of the years of warfare that thought troubled Grim more than any. There were no guarantees when Grenth would come to take a soul on their final journey. There needed to be some assurances for the child’s welfare and that wouldn’t be coming from blood. His mother thought him a stark raving lunatic when he’d presented the infant. Roan’s nip at her finger had not helped, but he’d been teething at the time…. She’d made it fairly clear that her wandering son should continue on his journeys, but was welcome to visit once in a while…a long while would be better. His other relatives were similarly…supportive, his half-brother had barely stifled a laugh at the new “Mother”, and noted the venture as ‘foolhardy’. “The leopard cannot change its skin,” was the simplistic stolen wisdom offered. The same wisdom offered by practically everyone at one point or another.

In the end, he was most supported by his Guild mates. Unfortunately, they’d been partaking in journeys without him due to his voluntary sequester from adventuring. The wind carried their messages to him, the Order of Whispers through missives passed in the night, a tradesman on a long journey, messenger birds and all sorts of other methods. Yet today, was particularly different….

Past the next tree Roan had come up short and was scurrying back towards Grim in an effort to move as far from the metallic giant as possible. A hulking grey golem, a machine of magic built by the Asura, was passively and inexplicably standing in the clearing. The apparent master of the instrument rounded one of the massive metal legs absently tapping at the automaton with a small hammer. The diminutive grey creature turned large black eyes towards the new arrivals and his massive ears perked slightly. “Well, the chronological moment has arrived at last! Could you procrastinate for a greater duration??” it spat. “I remonstrated with myself an inexorably long while about departing before you arrived to inevitably have the pleasure of serving me.”

Grim remained…well, grim. “You must be injured. Did you strike your head?”

A persistent pull at his robes drew the Dervish’s attention. “Is it eats Da? Is it eats?”

The Asura’s ears rose a bit higher and he abruptly bolted behind the leg of his metal companion only to appear a moment later astride the domed head on what appeared to be a leather seat. “I assure you I am NOT eats!”

Patiently, parent corrected his child while keeping a cautious eye on the Asura, “It’s not eats, Roan. Anything that talks is not eats. Remember?”

The point of a claw tore restlessly at the ground digging rivets. “Well…I not’s know what it says….” No one would ever say Roan was not dealt a full share of cunning….

Grim Mortbane adjusted his grip on his Scythe for emphasis, “If you wouldn’t mind being a little less verbose and get to the point of why you’ve disturbed my peace?”

“Peace? You call that ruckus peace?” He cast a wary glance at the two of them, seemed to do a lighting fast reassessment, and approached again. “My apologies.” He observed the small Charr carefully and reassessed, “Me sorry.” His ears quivered at having to speak to that level and twitched uncontrollably as if to say some things would NOT be done. “I have been referred to you by mutual acquaintances who advised me you could be very helpful in my cause. I believe you are a member of the Defenders of the North, are you not?”

“Why don’t we start with your introduction,” Grim growled softly. Roan sensed the tension and began a snuffling of his own as he began to prowl the edges of the glade.

The Asura found the immature Charr a more imminent threat and tracked the creature with a wary eye from his perch. While the Dervish might cut him in two, the Charr boy would…eat him. “My name is Pricmaxian Fellsandanturia more often referred to as Pric by bookah.” He shot a cautious look to the Dervish to insure that did not trigger some attack. Seeing as it had not he returned attention to the prowling creature below. “I need escort back to the shipyards so I may return to Arbor Bay. My journey’s here have proven fruitless.”

“And what business is it that brought you here since I’d be associated with it if I’m found in your company.” Grim placed both hands on his weapon and shifted his posture. “Do me the favor of not assuming I’m the usual bookah. This isn’t the first I’ve encountered your kind, but it could always be the last….”

Pric stood up at the indignity. “See here! I have made no offensive gestures or…”

“WHY are you HERE?”

The bravado vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. “Oh…BOTHER. I was seeking one of the missing bloodstones if you must know. Unfortunately, due to a misalignment of my ecthyobarometer I arrived at a useless treasure trove of common trinkets and gold. I’ve since recalibrated for ambient spiritual residue from some precipitous prior event and have discovered the first readings I made were simply…wrong. Rest assured that is a painfully…”

Grim held forth a hand to stop the babbling creature, “Let’s go back to ‘useless treasure trove of common trinkets and gold’. WHERE was this?”

The Asura seemed to calculate a million things once more before answering barely an instant later, “Well, it would appear to have been something referred to as the Hidden City of Adashim. Imagine my chagrin that just about everyone here knew of it…save of course for me. Thus it would seem prudent that I enlist local talent to…”

The Dervish had a feeling that there was a great deal more, “And did you go into the Hidden City? Take anything? Destroy anything? Have a sentence of death imposed?” Roan briefly clabbered at the hind quarters of the golem looking for purchase before scurrying back.

Pric bristled as best he could, but fought with the distraction produced by Roan. “I assure you I am no thief. I would welcome a visual examination of my personal belongings so that you may confirm my veracity.” He readjusted once more, “Search me if you don’t believe me.” He continued to speak, but his eyes were on Roan, “Just PLEASE do NOT eat me!” The golem began humming slightly as its master panicked. The central crystal pulsed to life with a blue glow as it assigned itself to defensive mode.

Patience at an end, Grim was prepared to swat the offensive creature from his perch, but something in the crystal caught his eye. Within the blue depths he once more saw the Avatar of Dwayna as she appeared that day in the burned out Charr war camp. He once more saw himself cradling his son as she placed a hand upon his shoulder and the rain began to fall. The moments trance was broken by a splash of moisture on his cheek as the sky, which had been clear minutes before, began raining soft droplets upon them all. Grim listened intently to the world around taking in every sensation. The Asura was muttering darkly as he adjusted his hat. Roan was taking shelter beneath the Dervish’s robes. And Dwayna was speaking to Grim. He was to help. He spoke without hesitation, “You will have my assistance.”

The wry grey face that was screwed tight at the distaste of becoming wet brightened to the unexpected announcement. “Phenomenal!” He measured his purchase carefully as he adjusted the seat atop the Golem’s head. “We should undoubtedly begin going somewhere.” The Golem lurched through the woods with a clicking whir of gears and hidden mechanisms, but shortly came to a halt as the impatient driver looked back. “WE should UNDOUBTEDLY be GOING!”

Grim passed from his revere and casually retorted, “Yes, Pric. We’re coming.”

“We? We’s? We’s a going wit de food?” Roan was excited. He’d never been allowed on long journeys. He’d heard of places, but never seen them. It would be a like a BIG hunt.

“When gods talk a Dervish listens.” The father knew he could not leave the son. “It will definitely be a WE.” He turned and began following the lumbering golem while feeling the peace of realization. There were no more doubts or worries because now he was in the arms of destiny once more. The hand of divinity had put his feet in motion and he would not stop until the destination was reached.

Roan was surprisingly quiet, caught up in the reverie for a new adventure..no, a FIRST adventure. He cast furtive glances up at his father as they walked. He did his best to remain…what was that word…sere aa ne? He tried to stay quiet. Finally, the damn broke, “When we gets der…can I eats de pointy ears den?”

The Dervish couldn’t help but laugh as he cuffed the tiny beast playfully, “We’ll see son. We’ll see…”

The journey to the coast had been troubled. Whether it was restless spirits, angry djinn, Hekets, Mokele, rock beetles, or practically the dirt beneath them, they were inevitably attacked. The Golem, while practical for protection of its master, appeared to be a huge magnet for attracting trouble. It had become so problematic that Grim had increased the companions with them to include two monks, another Dervish, a necromancer, two elementalists and a reliable Vabbian Guard his mother had recommended. He was leaning towards over protection because of Roan’s presence. Sadly, for a trip that had such good omens at its beginning; nothing seemed to be going right afterwards. The Asura was busily hammering on the interior leg joint of his golem as it had frozen up again. Evidently, the machines were powerful, but not without a cost. Pric had made it clear prior to this that leaving his protection behind was not an option to be considered.

Eyes narrowed, Grim measured the sun above and the shadow cast by his scythe. “We have only a few hours until dusk and won’t be able to make Yohlon Haven if we don’t go soon.”

The Asura hissed past his pointy teeth, “Thank you for being an excellent time piece. If my chronometer should ever be misplaced I’ll call for you.” The silence drew Pric out of the interior to find the Dervish glaring menacingly at him. “Uhm…sorry.” The silence grew as if to say the tinkerer had exceeded his quota for the day. “Let me get right back on this…a few minutes more…I’m sure.” He retreated out of view.

A tug of the robes from below, “Now Da? Now?”

Grim Mortbane ran a hand over his beard, perhaps a little too long, before giving a hesitant reply, “No… no, not yet.” He took a moment longer to utter a silent meditation to Dwayna for patience.

The Vabbian Scout, Jamat, eased to the Dervish’s side and whispered urgently, “Trouble.” He began using hand sign to indicate the shadowed hills to the north rather than openly point. “I count twenty to thirty men on foot. If they’re tracking us, it can’t be too hard considering….” He nodded distastefully at the golem.

Palimon, the Necromancer, had overheard and joined the discussion. His face remained stony, in part due to old scarring to the left half of his face, leaving a single good eye to fix upon them. “We should do something before they take us in the open. The master builder there could have picked a better place to break down. Should we drag the creature out of that metal contraption?”

Grim focused his senses on the slight tremors beneath his feet from the distant foot falls. They were running this direction with intense purpose and given the journey’s troubled history thus far, it bode ill for their group. “Ready the others.” Moving in a deliberately casual manner he summoned Roan to his side, while approaching the opening in the Golem’s leg. “Pric. I would have a word with you.” Knowing there was certain to be a snippy retort he cut in before it could arrive. “NOW.”

The head of the Asura poked out cautiously. “I see how you get your name….”

“Same here. I’m finding your lack of honesty disturbing.” He blocked out the tree line as he pressed the interrogation, “ Would you happen to know why there is a small battalion of men coming towards us?”

The Asura measured his action and responses carefully. For an instant, he considered simply retreating into the Golem further, it would be only a matter of time before someone or something pulled him out. “There may be the matter of a misappropriated object of art, or a tome, or some such that they’re interested in…” He didn’t like the way the Dervish was swelling with concealed anger, “…or they could just be a roving band of cutthroats intent on killing us.” He drug out of the depths of the Golem and shut the hatch. “Either way…I’m certain they are going to be far more interested in chopping us to pieces than negotiating. I find that common factor amongst your kind.” He saw Roan approaching and scurried up the Golem while using the young Charr’s arrival as an opportunity to change the subject, “You should see to your…son.”

There was little time for proper preparations, the approaching men had increased their pace undoubtedly at the urging of one of the warriors in their midst. He could hear the sounds of battle cries urging the troops on at an even faster pace. There was little point in subtlety, but a need existed for improvement of their current location in the open. A small outcrop of rock was not far from their location which would at least provide minimal protection. Roan would be able to take shelter amongst the larger stones.

As they neared their destination atop the stone, Grim could feel the magical energies being drawn upon by his companions. Preparatory spells were being cast and muttered chants were the only sound to disturb the silence. He looked to Roan who had taken to hiding already, the youngsters instincts served him well. The sun was not long for the sky now as it prepared for its rush into darkness. A red hue was taking over the heavens and earth of Arkjok Ward while an eerie hush fell over the world; Nature knew that Grenth was coming.

As the soldiers burst into view, Grim recognized them immediately as Corsairs. They were out of their normal territory so there was little doubt of ill intentions. Grim drank in the instants, measuring the on rushing fury of the enemy. Their small band was sure to be overwhelmed by the three squads coming at them. The cries of “Charge!” and “No quarter!” broke the silence. Unexpectedly to the right of his troop’s position, a familiar disturbance was felt in the earth and inspiration struck like lightning. He quickly spun to Jamat, “Hold the line!” He called to the wind to aid his speed as he leapt away from the stones and soared just above the ground with plumes of air supporting his steps.

“DA!” was the shout from behind as his son came out of his hiding place in hot pursuit. Grim signaled the boy back, but the panicked child did not heed for fear of abandonment.

The charging Corsair seemed even more enthusiastic now. They cried in unison and lifted their weapons high. The Golem whirred and clicked as its hands joined together pointing at the lead pirate. Shortly after, a fiery blue bolt erupted into the chest of the lead man. As if the signal for all to engage had been signaled, a series of eruptions exploded across the field. Fire blasted the Corsair troops in cascades as wards of earthly protection were erected to slow their advance. The monks chanted in unison with one providing protection from the barrage of arrows while the other was throwing up protective magic on their lone warrior. Only the necromancer appeared to be biding his time behind the golem. Palimon watched with mute interest as the Dervish skimmed just over the surface of the earth running on air towards…what?

Grim arrived within a reasonable distance of the disturbance and spun wildly raking his scythe in reverse across the ground sending up a cloud of dust. In a single fluid motion he reversed course and exploded back towards the Corsairs banging his scythe along the ground as he flew. He locked eyes on Roan to see what the boy would do.

Roan practically seized as his ears shot up, mouth dropped open and feet began backpedalling against his will from what he saw ahead. “Bad! BAD! BAD!!!” He bolted back towards the safety of the rocks at twice the speed he’d left them.

Calling upon Grenth and drawing further upon the force of the air for speed, the Dervish twisted into the heart of the approaching Corsair line. Each swing of the scythe was aimed low slicing through the legs and tendons of the enemy leaving them crippled in the wake of his passage. The second phase of his attack exploded from the earth all around his felled enemies. The Corsairs screamed in horror as the dark carapace of Mandragors rose up amongst them. It was spawning time, someone had disturbed their breeding grounds, and they were hungry.

The Corsairs attempted to rally further on, but Grim swam into them as they attempted their charge. “NONE SHALL PASS!” he roared while sending men flying with a whirlwind strike. The scythe flowed through its forms leaving ragged frozen wounds where it met flesh. Grim opened himself to the rhythm and patterns of the battle becoming as one with his weapon. The world faded for a time into those rhythms and he lost track of the lives claimed. Yet, there would be no regrets, for there was no hatred, rather a need to preserve his son. A Corsair Captain threw a wild blow attempting to stop the Dervish, but there was no purchase for him as Grim floated by on cushions of air swinging his scythe casually into his attackers back. The Scythe shredded the protective enchantments of the Captain and felled him entirely a breath later. As though that Captain alone was cause for their courage, the remaining pirates broke and began fleeing whence they came with Mandragor tearing at their backs.

Grim Mortbane slid on the air to the stone where his companions were all carefully standing. No one else dared shake the earth lest they inadvertently disturb the swarming beasts in the earth. Each actively sought purchase on bare rock. Yet, Grim was not distracted as he floated over the stone straight to the Necromancer. With a forceful grip he wrenched the staff from the mercenary’s hands and flung it into the field. “You have betrayed us Palimon. You’ve been the cause for our misery.”

“Are you mad?” the Necromancer protested. The single good eye swam about looking for shelter rather than meet the hard gaze upon him. “I was defending your son!” The companions watched the exchange as the tension thickened the air.

“In my battle trance do you know what was missing?” growled Grim. “Not a voice from you. Not a sound. No spells. No curses. No use of your staff for that matter. You simply…stood there.” He shoved the Necromancer hard sending him stumbling down the rock. “Now why would that be the case if you were truly at risk…or protecting anyone? You were waiting for the opportunity to show your true colors.” He signaled Roan to move back a safe distance. “Were you thinking you’d take my son hostage in the end?” He burst forward like the raging storm that cuts through the plains, but stopped the scythe short of decapitating the traitor, “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?”

A half sneer crawled forth from the healthy portion of Palimon’s face, while the scared ruin on the left remained still as always. “He’s stolen a piece of bloodstone, a fragment of the stone of Preservation that was concealed in Vabbi, and he hopes to use it to locate the point of origin. His hidden away in the heart of that metal monstrosity.” The white eye rested upon the Asura above. “Actually, I believe he HAS located the origin and that’s why he desires to leave. Where were you travelling again? Arbor Bay? You’re not in need of any recalibrations.”

The Asura sighed heavily and pulled an ear in frustration. “What is it with bookah and secrets? Like worms chewing on the corpse of knowledge…why don’t you accept your place in the reliquary of history and die en masse?”

The momentary distraction of the Asura’s rant was enough for Paliban to cast his spell. The scythe flashed through the spot where the Necromancer had once been. In the distance a corpse exploded as Paliban reappeared out of its remains. There was obvious pleasure in his eyes at his escape. “Always keep a corpse handy!” he laughed.

Grim frowned thoughtfully and gave a friendly wave, “ But make sure it’s not being eaten at the time.”

The traitor spun with the instants realization just before the Stoneflesh Mandragor latched it’s mandibles on his head. The crunching prompted the group to renew their journey and get far from the wretched battlefield. The dry earth drank in the ruin of men, but its thirst did not ebb.

The group finally neared Yohlon Haven just before the final setting of the sun. The Asura had not taken his eyes off the blue robes of the Dervish ahead of him. There was a casualness about him that the pragmatic golem master could only interpret as…dangerous. Pric would have expected ranting, or accusations, or threats of some sort, but instead… silence. He finally broke in lest he go mad. “So…are you planning on executing me for not telling you all my business?”

“No.”

The Asura contemplated this, then eyed the Charr youth. “Certainly not feed me to the boy??”

Roan perked up with great enthusiasm at this and nearly danced in place.

“No.”

The silence began to return before the Asura stopped the Golem and stood from his perch in frustration shaking his fists at the heavens. “Well what then?? WHAT are you going to do??”

The Dervish paused and gave the grey thief a warning eye. “We’re going to escort you to your destination of course.” The Asura despite his claimed vast reserves of intelligence did not immediately grasp the negative consequence. “You’re going to take me to the Preservation Bloodstone. When we get there I’m going to guard it, from those who would abuse its power. My goddess placed me on this path and I…” he paused to look at Roan thoughtfully, “…WE shall follow.” He pointed the scythes tip towards Pric. “And you should take enjoyment in each day and come along. With any luck I MIGHT be able to tolerate you by the time we arrive.” Without further word he marched to the gates ahead as the others broke rank with the still unmoving golem to follow their leader.

Roan trotted proudly alongside his father. He kept glancing back at the Asura until he was sure the creature was just out of range. “Den can we eat’s him?”

Grim Mortbane simply laughed.