~Three Fortnights Later~
She was dressed simply in hemp and leather; she had left the garments bequeathed to her by the guild back at her room in Quarrymill, along with her tools. The woman hefted the rucksack by the strap, slipping it off her shoulder as she walked further into the clearing. She approached the water’s edge and stared out over the glistening surface, eyes lingering for a moment on the aetheryte before turning up to the night sky over Urth’s Font. “I am here.â€
The stars went out.
From east to west, light vanished as those heavenly beacons went dark one by one, as if a curtain had been drawn over the land. Black as soot, the curtain swirled to a focal point far above, directly over the aetheryte, then spiraled down in a column of smoke, curling about the crystal as it came. Laughter emanated from that column, a low sinister chuckling, and as the last of the large cloud descended, light returned to the sky, the stars no longer smothered by foulness.
As far as the woman knew, no soul yet living save hers had ever born witness to this process.
The cloud settled about the aetheryte, then flowed toward her, gathering in a dense pool on the bank opposite her. Now most of that foulness roiled upward, ascending as slowly as it had descended swiftly, diminishing in substance as it went, and in its wake it left ash, a pile of ash that resembled feet… legs… a torso… arms... the ash figure that emerged from the smoke resembled a man sitting on his haunches, his arms resting on his knees, his head bowed. As this figure neared completion, a second, thinner column followed, and in its wake was left color, the red flush of flesh, pale tan of skin, and gray lines of hair.
The woman stared, and thought about how easy it would have been to toss a lit torch into that mass of dust.
What little was left of the black cloud now surged upward in what was the thinnest column yet, and behind it was left sabatons, a belt and buckle, a scabbard, a bastard sword, chainmail, and gauntlets. She wondered at this. Her observations from her previous meetings with this abomination had led her to a working theory with but a singular conclusion: that prolonged exposure to and possession by the monstrosity had bound these articles aetherically to their master. More black magic, no doubt.
A man crouched now under Odin’s crystal, and with a heavy sigh he pushed a hand back through his gray hair and lifted his face to look upon the woman, the baleful red gaze of his right eye boring into her. “Where have you been? You were instructed not to leave this clearing.â€
“I’ve been here a fortnight. A fortnight, wasted here. I grew restless. So I wandered. Decided to risk it. Reached out. Risk proved worth taking. Message came to Quarrymill. Word from Thanalan.†She slung him the rucksack. “Someone was asking questions. Asking after the troublemakers.â€
He caught the bag. “Do go on.â€
“A messenger. Bearing a letter. Letter and… something else.â€
He lowered the rucksack to the dirt and rummaged through it. “Did you read this letter?â€
She glared at him. He raised an eyebrow up at her. “Sincerest apologies, mistress. Often times I forget that this is a land of savages without the good grace of an imperial education. The messenger?â€
“I went south. Hirelings often miss.†She smirked. “I do not miss.â€
His answering smile faded as his rummaging ceased. From the bag he drew metal. An intricate construction which appeared magitek in origin. Gold, black, silver. The woman regarded this with distaste. He merely stared at the prosthetic arm he was holding. Then the moment passed. He set it aside and reached for the letter, ripping the seal open and unfurling the parchment as he stood. She couldn’t help it; her own eyebrows climbed higher and higher as his countenance turned stern and his body language betrayed his agitation. With a guttural cry, he cast the letter into the air, dropped one hand to his scabbard, and with the other drew his sword and cut the parchment in twain. The two pieces fluttered to the dirt, burning as they fell with unnatural flames.
“And so one son ends another,†he sneered as he sheathed his brass blade. “My suspicions are confirmed. Paranoid though it seemed, I chose wisely in recalling you.â€
“Explain. I did not appreciate that. We are behind schedule now.â€
“Rest assured, you will be handsomely compensated for your troubles.†He spat into the water. “Those of my ilk are connected. We feel each other across the distances the way you might feel your arm, or your leg, or your hand or your foot. When you are wounded, when aught pierces your skin or your flesh, you feel it. You know.â€
He dropped to his knees and stuffed the prosthetic back into the rucksack, which he flung over his left shoulder as he rose to his feet again. “Some time ago, I felt incredible pain that was not mine. Agony, as if I was being torn in half. Then, not so long ago, a sharper, harsher pain… and silence, as if I had lost the use of a limb. Silence followed by anguish from a completely different direction. So I brought you here, took you away from your work, and went after the others. Those who are mine answered the call through our connection, but the others… the others numbered a mere two individuals. After nearly a fortnight, I found him. I finally found him.â€
He drew in a deep breath, though he didn’t need it. “Oubliette Crow lives, if you can call it living, and that means that Atrium is no more. And this,†he exclaimed as he brought one foot down on the smoldering remains of the letter and ground it into the dirt, “this confirms it. The Void cannot hold Epinoch.â€
The woman tensed. “The albino you spoke of?â€
“The same. Now you understand?â€
Her face contorted, and there came the loud clack of a tongue pressed sharply against the roof of a mouth until it slid down past the teeth. “Yes. This is why.â€
“You will have to exercise caution. Resume your work. Be about your task. Do not return here until it is done. I am not ready for him. Not yet. Let him fixate on those others for now.†His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her fidgeting. “You have questions?â€
“About the albino, no. About the giant, yes. You sent him to me. Why?â€
“I trust Renatus more than I trust you. So. If you need to reach me, send him here, and I will come find you when I can. Is that satisfactory, Miss Raske?â€
Thekla smiled. “Naturally.â€
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