Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 362
The Watcher’s Daughter
Ernie rubs his temples. “So now the Adversary is giving us the finger? But at least we know not to stab Him in the heart… or where we think His heart is.”
Quietly, Morningstar adds, “And now we know that even a God couldn’t kill him.”
“Say,” asks Dranko. “Are there any battles here that we’re in? ‘Cause we’ve been in some pretty kick-ass battles.”
“Not enough time has passed since you fought them,” says the Dream Essence.
“But our battle with Condor was a thousand years in the past,” Grey Wolf points out.
“Oh, yes!” says the Dream Essence. “I had forgotten. That one should certainly be here.”
She takes them to a place where the dream of their titanic battle against Naloric’s earth mage is played out. They find that while it is an accurate retelling of their fight, it is also very impressionistic. Everyone in the Company has had dreams of this battle, dreams which reflect its realities and chaos, and the version they observe is formed from their collective dreams of it.
“You know what I think?” says Ernie. “I think we should talk to the Utholites.”
Dranko snorts. “If we go talk to them, and say, ‘hey, we have the weapon that your Goddess once held,’ I wouldn’t give us good odds of getting out with a fight.”
Ernie shakes his head. “But they might know more than anyone else about how to hurt the Adversary.”
At Morningstar’s suggestion, they return once more to the battle of the Gods. This time they focus their attention mostly on Uthol Inga herself, and notice that as She plunges her golden blade through the heart of the Adversary, there is a clear expression of doubt on Her divine features. But no one can tell whether this doubt stems from not knowing if Her betrayal will succeed, or from not knowing if She even wants to betray Him in the first place.
/*/
“I’m supposed to use that sword. And now we find out it won’t actually work? How could it? It didn’t work when the Goddess herself was using it. How are we going to use a little piece of it to kill the Adversary?” Kibi is disgusted. He takes a mug of beer from Eddings and drinks deeply.
“It’ll hurt him,” says Grey Wolf. “And make him mad. That’ll have to be enough.”
Dranko taps the side of his head with his finger. “I’ve been told by tentacular monstrosities that someday, someone will pluck my brain like a ripe peach, and be completely horrified by the nasty core inside of it. My hope, and my expectation, is that the Adversary is going to peel apart my brain, and be overcome by the damp canker deep in my soul. That’s when Kibi should be sticking our golden sword into Him.”
Kibi looks doubtful. “Maybe.”
“So,” says Ernie. “I still want to find the Utholites and learn more about the sword. They must know something that would help.”
The others agree, but there’s a problem. No one knows where any of them are. Nowhere in the kingdom are there any pubic shrines, temples or churches to the Watcher. As far as the Company knows, the followers of Uthol Inga have always been hidden, except for the time they emerged in the streets of Sand's Edge to (unsuccessfully) defend the Ventifact Colossus. The party has no leads.
So Aravis creates one. He casts vision, with the goal of learning how they can contact the highest levels of Uthol Inga’s church. Into his head comes the image of a large city on the coast, almost certainly Hae Charagan.
“Well, I’ve narrowed it down to the biggest city in the kingdom,” he says.
The others look at Aravis, hoping to hear something more useful, but that’s all the vision gave him. It’s past midnight by now, and the Spire meeting is hours away.
“Can we try discern location?” asks Ernie. “To find the high priest of Uthol Inga in Hae Charagan?”
“Not unless we have something he’s touched,” says Morningstar. But of course, no one does.
“We have this,” says Kibi. He pulls out the Watcher’s Kiss, and the colors of the Greenhouse interior are washed away. All eyes are drawn to the brilliant golden glow of the Goddess’s blade.
“I doubt the Watcher high priest has ever held that,” Flicker opines.
But they try it anyway, since perhaps the holiest object ever known to the Watcher’s religion might serve as a focus to find their leader. Morningstar casts the spell.
She doesn’t learn the location of her target.
She does learn the location of an altar, and that place is in Hae Charagan.
“Good enough for me,” says Dranko. “Let’s go.”
They teleport.
/*/
The street location in Morningstar’s head is on a short block of artisan’s shops. There are glassblowers, table-makers, several smithies and a chandlery. Morningstar stops in front of a clockmaker. “It’s in here.”
It being after midnight, the shop is closed. Grey Wolf knocks on the door.
After a couple of minutes and a few more knocks, the Company hears the sound of feet thumping down some stairs from the second floor of the shop. This sound is followed by bolts being drawn, after which the door opens to reveal a slight old man in his pajamas. His hair is wispy and disheveled.
“We’re closed,” he says testily.
“We’re sorry to disturb you at this hour,” says Morningstar, “but this is a matter of great urgency.”
The old man rubs sleep from his eyes. “Who are you? Do you have something on order?”
“We’re the people who have to finish what the Watcher started,” says Dranko.
The man rubs his scalp. “You're what now?”
Morningstar’s not buying it. “There is an altar here, of great power.”
She fires off a silent, still detect thoughts, and is not terribly surprised to find that the old man’s mind is shielded.
“We’re looking for the Watcher’s children,” says Ernie.
“I’m just a shopkeeper,” says the man.
Morningstar graces him with a look of skepticism. “Then why is your mind shielded?”
The man blinks. “So I don’t get rooked! Pretty common practice. Who are you, anyway?”
“We’re the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks,” says Ernie.
“The who of the what now? Look, if it’ll make you go away, I’ll sell you a clock right now.”
Dranko steps forward. “You know how the Adversary is coming, and you know how the Emperor has done his best to enter the world three times? We’re the people who stopped him. Now we would like to stop the Adversary from coming, and we need your help. We’ve told no one else of this shop’s existence, I promise.”
The old man peers at Dranko, then sizes up the rest of the Company. Finally he says, “You don’t want a clock.”
“No,” says Dranko.
“Then let me see if I can find you something more to your taste.”
He closes the door. Ten seconds later he opens it again.
“You’re not going to come in armed, are you?”
“Not if you don’t want us to,” Dranko answers.
“I don’t want you to.”
“Some of us have weapons given to us directly by agents of our Gods, so that might not be possible,” says Dranko. “How about if we swear that we won’t attack anyone unless we ourselves are attacked?”
The old man nods. “Could you say that one more time? Slowly?”
“I swear on my God Delioch that we will not attack anyone unless we ourselves our attacked.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“By the way, I’m Dranko Blackhope. Heard of me?”
The man turns his back and beckons them to follow into the shop. “Yeah, I know who you are,” he says over his shoulder.
Dranko laughs. “Someone knows me! In your face, evil tentacled monstrosity who stole my fame!”
“You’re the torchbearer to the group of heroes you’re with,” says the old man. “Now, all of you, come on, follow me. Last one in, close the door.”
/*/
The shop is stocked with dozens of beautifully made clocks, pendulums and gears swinging and turning, filling the place with a quiet percussive soundtrack. There’s a door in the back of the shop which should, given the layout of the city block, lead to a narrow back alley. But by some dimensional trickery it opens instead into a large hall like a museum, with a variety of relics housed in glass cases.
“Don’t touch anything,” barks the old man.
Dranko calls up a cigar from his haversack and lights a match against Ernie’s armor.
“Want one?” he asks the old man.
“No.”
Ernie nudges the half-orc. “They’re nasty, Dranko.”
“I know,” says Dranko. “After all, I started smoking them just to annoy the people at the temple.”
The old man wheels around. “Do you know what I might expect from you people? Gravitas.”
Morningstar laughs at that. “If we tried to maintain gravitas, we’d long ago have been driven mad, given the things we’ve seen.”
“Right.” The man stops in front of a door at the opposite end of the museum hall. “She’s in here.”
Dranko inclines his head. “Thank you.”
“But you can you leave your other weapons at the door,” the old man reminds them. “The ones that aren’t gifts from divine beings.”
“Are you gonna take ‘em?” Dranko asks.
“Nobody’s going to take them. You’ll need ‘em.” He knocks on the door, and a woman’s voice comes from within.
“Come in. Let’s see our visitors.”
The old man opens the door and stands back, not going in himself. They all enter, except for Pewter who stays behind to guard their weapons -- just in case. Beyond the door is what looks like a small mess hall, its long tables and wooden benches empty at the moment, except for a woman sitting and drinking from a wooden cup. She is dressed in plain clothes, and projects nothing of power or spiritual might.
Morningstar leads the Company as they approach her table. “Good evening Your Holiness. I’m sorry we woke you up. How should we address you?”
“My name is Jahnda,” says the woman. “You can address me as High Priestess or Your Holiness if you’d like, but Jahnda will do.”
“Pleased to meet you,” says Ernie. “I’m Ern…”
“Ernest Roundhill,” says Jahnda. “Yes, I know. I know who you are.”
“You’ve been watching?”
Jahnda chuckles. “Very good. Yes. I’ve been watching everything.”
“Sorry we opposed you in that turtle fight,” says Dranko.
“You did what you felt you had to, just as we did. So, what brings you here, at last?”
“We need to finish what Uthol Inga started,” says Ernie gravely. “And the more we know how She did what She did, the better prepared we’ll be to finally finish off the Adversary.”
Jahnda stares hard at Ernie. “You’re… going to finish off the Adversary.”
“That seems to be the ticket we’ve drawn,” says Ernie quietly.
“And what is your… plan of action?” asks Jahnda.
For a second or two no one answers. Dranko clears his throat. “I’d like to think we don’t want to lock ourselves down. To maintain flexibility, you know…”
“We don’t have a plan,” says Grey Wolf.
Jahnda takes another sip from her cup. “And you think that you can succeed where the Watcher failed?” She is not bothering to mask her skepticism.
“Can we trust one another?” Morningstar asks their host.
Jahnda throws her arms wide. “I trust you already. I let you in here, didn’t I? And I let you keep Ell’s Will on your person.”
“My Goddess gave me that blade. It’s one of the reasons we believe we are destined to be at the final battle with the Adversary.”
“Not necessarily,’ says Jahnda. “There will be other battles, battles of great import.”
Dranko sighs. “We've spent a lot of years, and dealt with a whole lot of stupid prophecies, and they’ve all been pointing towards this. I’ve been told, directly, by hideous tentacled monstrosities, that this is coming.”
“Tentacled monstrosities?”
Ernie makes a face. “Dranko has an unfortunately strong familiarity with the Far Realms. And given that’s where the Adversary is…”
“I take your meaning,” says Jahnda. “So, you are intending to use your powers not toward protecting our escape, but to stop the Adversary from emerging altogether?”
“That is correct,” says Dranko. “We’re not here to help anyone flee. We’re going to make sure they don’t have to.”
Morningstar takes a step closer to the Watcher’s high priestess. “I didn’t know you had a plan to have everyone flee.”
“Oh, it’s not my plan. But I have faith that it is the Gods’ plan.”
“Well, except for the chicken ones who already ran,” says Dranko.
Jahnda glowers. “Already ran? That’s what you think?”
“Uh… yes?” answers Dranko. “I’d be more than happy to be proven wrong, though.”
Jahnda narrows her eyes. “You’re a priest, yes? I would expect that you’d have more faith.”
“I’m not a very good priest,” Dranko admits. “Are we wrong? Are they preparing a way out?”
“They have to be,” says Jahnda wearily. “The Adversary is coming. The last time that happened, the Gods saved as many of their mortal flock as they could, and fled here. If the Adversary has finally found them, I expect they will do the same this time, saving whom they can and fleeing the Adversary’s wrath. I would presume that even as we speak, Delioch is preparing to save as many people as possible.”
“Sure,” says Dranko. “But our job is make sure he doesn’t have to save anyone.”
“But it’s possible,” says Morningstar, turning to her husband, “that our job will be to hold the way open, so as many can flee as is possible. We don’t know for sure.”
“I hope that is your job,” says Jahnda. “We could use more people here like you when the time comes.”
“But we have seen signs that we’ll have to confront the Adversary,” says Morningtar.
Jahnda shakes her head. “He’s going to destroy you, you know. You cannot defeat Him.”
“I think maybe that’s why Uthol Inga failed the first time,” says Ernie. “Because She didn’t believe that She could kill Him..”
Jahnda starts, and almost looks as though she will rise from her chair. “You have… great gall, to say something like that in this place.”
“We’ve seen the fight,” says Dranko. “The one where she stabbed the Adversary.”
Jahnda looks at him like he’s gone completely mad.
“It’s true,” says Ernie. “The moment before she struck, she felt a great doubt. We saw it on her face.”
Real anger fills Jahnda’s face. “And how do you know that, exactly?”
“We saw it,” says Ernie. “We have been to a place where echoes of past battles still linger. We saw the Gods battle the Adversary.” He sits in the chair opposite Jahnda and leans towards her. “What did Uthol Inga do? Where did that weapon come from?”
Jahnda leans back. “Weapon? You mean the Sword of the Watcher? It failed. It was meant to kill the Adversary, but it did not.”
“What was it made of?” asks Ernie. “It was clearly forged with great power and magic…”
“It was filled with Her own Divine Essence, among other things,” says Jahnda. “But it was destroyed. No weapon touches the Adversary and survives. Do you seek to forge another, similar weapon? You’ll need to find a God or Goddess willing to give up their Essence. But I think you’ll find that the Gods are saving themselves for the more practical contingency of flight.”
Ernie stares evenly at Jahnda. “I’ll cover the retreat if it comes to that, but personally, I don’t like retreating.”
When Jahnda glowers at this, Dranko says, “Uthol Inga made a great sacrifice, and her followers have been excoriated for it ever since, unjustly. We’d like to redeem the sacrifice which she made for all of us.”
Jahnda smiles, but eyes betray her bitterness. She sits back in her chair.
“So you have the intention of confronting and defeating the Adversary himself, and you admit that at the moment, you have no plan for how to do that. Do you even know where He is? Where He’ll show himself? What His plan of attack is?”
Ernie stands back up, disgusted. “Perhaps we made a mistake in coming here. If all we’re going to hear are doubts, and words about how our quest cannot be done, then there’s nothing to be gained by staying. I understand your disbelief, but if you can’t help us, we need to go elsewhere. We don’t have time for this. I’m sorry we wasted yours.”
“It was useful to know your opinion that a way is being prepared for your escape,” says Morningstar. “What is your intent, when the Adversary returns?”
Jahnda turns to Ell’s Shadow. “My intent is to watch, for the moment that escape is made available to us. I have great faith that Uthol Inga and the rest are working out ways to escape when the Adversary returns to this world. It is my job to make sure that my flock is ready, so that we may avail ourselves of the opportunity when the Gods present it. To watch for the signs, that the moment is coming.”
“And what are the signs?” asks Morningstar.
“They are all around us now,” says Jahnda. “The earthquakes. The fish…”
“And we just lost an entire city…” adds Dranko.
“Ah,” says Jahnda. “So you’ve heard about Forquelle, then?”
This brings everyone up short.
“What?” says Grey Wolf.
“Oh God…” says Morningstar.
“No,” says Dranko. “I was talking about Sentinel. What happened to Forquelle?”
Jahnda’s face is grim. “My understanding is that it was… washed away.”
“Washed away?” says Dranko. “Tor’s going to be really unhappy once he’s back in his right mind.”
“What were you talking about then?” asks Jahnda. “What happened to Sentinel?”
“Everyone killed each other,” says Dranko.
The Company shares their recent experience in Sentinel, and the bubbling-up of the Adversary’s blood from the copper mines.
“The world is awash in signs,” says Jahnda. “We are in Abernia’s final hours. Whatever you intend to do, you should do it soon.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” says Dranko.
“You’re leaving,” Jahnda repeats. “If you don’t mind me asking… for where?”
“We’re going to go beneath,” says Dranko. “To the part of the world that was blocked off.”
Jahnda cannot conceal her surprise. “Beneath Yulan’s Barrier?”
“That’s where the agents of the Adversary have gone, preceding us,” says Dranko.
“I see,” says Jahnda. “Ordinarily I would tell you that Yulan’s Barrier is impenetrable, but I imagine you hear that many things are impossible, which you go on to prove are not. Including things I’ve just told you about the Adversary, maybe?” She lets out a long breath. “Good luck to you, then. If something occurs to me that I can do to assist, some knowledge or advice, then you will have it. I cannot give you material support; what I have, I will retain, to assist in the escape of our people when… should you fail to kill the Adversary.”
“For what it’s worth,” says Morningstar, “I’m sorry.”
“As are all people who live to see such times,” says Jahnda. “Most people on Abernia… are going to die. As they did last time. The Travelers brought many mortals with them here, but most of them perished. I expect it will be the same this time around. I am sorry that you won’t be here to assist in the escape, but it seems the Gods have another plan for you. You are like an arrow launched at its target from a great distance… unlikely to hit its mark, but a chance worth taking.”
She stands. “I’ll give you one piece of advice, should you intend to physically kill the Adversary. You will need a weapon capable of piercing His divine flesh. I doubt even Ell’s Will is capable of that.”
“If we had such a weapon, do you have any idea how we might use it?” asks Morningstar.
"Uthol Inga stabbed the Adversary through the heart with such a blade, and that wounded him, but did not kill him. You’d also need some other weapon, or force, or source of power. The weapon will be necessary, but it will not be enough.”
She looks intently at Morningstar, searching her face. “You have such a weapon, don’t you,” she says. “Good. That’s something.” She stretches, then says, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for an appointment with my bed.” But as she turns to leave, she asks one more question.
“How did you find me?”
This question brings about a flurry of discussion over the telepathic bond, about whether they should reveal the existence of the Watcher’s Kiss to the Watcher High Priestess. They decide to be forthright.
“We have a piece of the sword that was used in the Gods’ battle with the Adversary,” says Morningstar.
Jahnda’s eyes grow wide. “You have a piece of the Sword of the Watcher?”
“We found this place by using it.”
“Do you have it here?”
Technically it’s in a bag of holding. Another mind-link conference leads to the conclusion that while telling Jahnda about the sword is one thing, showing it is quite another.
“No,” says Morningstar.
Jahnda stares daggers into Morningstar for several seconds. She clearly sees through the lie.
“Fine,” she shrugs. “But I would like to have seen it.”
Morningstar folds her arms across her chest. “If you were in my position, what would you do?”
“If I were you, I suppose I would keep it hidden, because you can’t trust me not to try to take it. Because I realize what a difference it might make, in the defense of our escape.”
Morningstar nods.
“But also if I were you,” continues Jahnda, “I would ask me to swear an oath on my Goddesses’ name, that I would not try to take it from you. And thus, being convinced of my good intentions, you could show it to me.”
Morningstar looks at the others, and nods again.
Jahnda takes a final sip from her cup. “I swear on the name my Goddess Uthol Inga, and, Goddess willing, my undying soul, that if you show me a fragment of the Sword of the Watcher, I will in no way attempt to remove it from your possession, or have it removed by someone else.”
Satisfied, Ernie pulls the golden blade from the bag, and unsheathes it. “This is the Watcher’s Kiss,” he says.
All the color is washed out of the room, save for the sword itself, and a bright golden glint in Jahnda’s eyes.
“May I?” Jahnda reaches out for the sword.
Nervously, Ernie hands it over. Everyone leans forward as Jahnda’s hand grasps the hilt, not certain of what to expect. The High Priestess’s eyes roll up into her head, and for a full minute her mouth trembles while the others look on anxiously.
Finally Jahnda’s eyes snap open. She looks around, and hands the blade to Kibi.
“Did you speak to your Goddess?” asks Grey Wolf.
Tears fall from her cheeks to the wooden table, some landing in her cup. “I didn’t do any speaking,” she whispers. “Go beneath the Barrier, and stop your enemies. Go with my blessing… and Hers.”
…to be continued…
