Cheiromancer
Adventurer
Updated! Thanks, Salthorae.
-
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Tales of Wyre
- Thread starter Cheiromancer
- Start date
Cheiromancer
Adventurer
Shvar Choryati, was Temenun's response.
The blood left Anumid's face. "I will communicate your offer."
Do not tarry in your deliberations. You have less than an hour before Nashhte sets.
-------------
Any speculation about what this is about?
edit: Sep reveals all!
[sblock]Shvar Choryati
Shvar Choryati is the name of the phenomenon invoked by Temenun near the small town of Cirone, where Visuit launched her assault on the Temple forces. The name translates approximately as Power of Theft – the 'Theft' to which the name applies, is that of Sun and/or Being. Eater of Light might be a better rendering. The phenomenon is best understood as a Manifest Dream of Cheshne; it is the shadow of a Great Primordial Fear.
Mechanically, Shvar Choryati is based on an epic living spell – an augmented blasphemy/soul bind combination – with 8 divine ranks; it is conjured 'conventionally' with another epic (calling) spell; one which requires huge output to circumvent the divine protections which normally prevent its reification in the bounded cosmos.
Shvar Choryati is treated as a spell effect as cast by a 75th level caster; where noted, it adds its divine ranks to many checks as well. Where spell level is a consideration, Shvar Choryati is treated as an epic or 10th-level spell. Its impulse is to consume light and life, but it cannot be said to possess 'Intelligence,' per se. For purposes of eligibility for salient divine abilities, Shvar Choryati is considered sympathetic with the Domains of Death, Destruction and Evil, although the Eater of Light possesses no domain powers, and lacks any powers which require even a modicum of rational thought.
The phenomenon manifests as a cloud of impenetrable darkness with a diameter of almost 200 feet: its outer zone is its life-draining aura; the inner zone – unguessable in shape – is one of utter blasphemy.
Shvar Choryati's 'perception' (its hunger) extends to eight miles.
For a deific entity/thing, Shvar Choryati has a refreshingly minimal stat block.
Shvar Choryati, Eater of Light (DvR8)
Colossal Ooze (Chaotic, Chthonic, Dream, Evil, Extraplanar)
Hit Dice: 75d10+975 (1725hp)
Initiative: +5
Speed: 40ft.
Armor Class: 25 (-8 size, +10 deflection, +5 Dex, +8 Divine)
Base Atk/Grapple: +56 /+93
Atk: +69 melee (2d8+19, slam) plus Soul Blasphemy
Full Atk: +69 melee (2d8+19, slam)
Space/Reach: 30ft./20ft.
Special Attacks: Life Drain, Soul Blasphemy
Special Qualities: Divine immunities, DR 20/epic, fast healing 140, immortal, ooze qualities, SR 155
SDAs: Divine Fast Healing (x5), Improved Spell Resistance (x4), Life Drain
Saves: Fort +60 Ref +52 Will +50
Abilities: Str 36 Dex 20 Con 36 Int - Wis 17 Cha 25
Challenge Rating: 55
Aura of Fear (Su): Creatures within 800ft. of Shvar Choryati become shaken unless they make a successful Will saving throw (DC58).
Dimension Door (Sp): Shvar Choryati can use this ability at will as a standard action (Caster Level 83).
Soul Blasphemy (Sp): Creatures struck by Shvar Choryati suffer the effects of blasphemy (Caster Level 83). If slain, creatures are automatically subject to a soul bind effect. The death ward spell is ineffective against Soul Blasphemy; epic spells containing the [Ward] seed which are keyed to necromantic effects are entitled to an opposed Caster Level check. Soul Bound entities are held within the form of the Eater of Light; there is no limit to the Hit Dice of a creature subject to this ability. Trapped souls may only be released by the destruction of Shvar Choryati.
Life Drain (SDA): Shvar Choryati is surrounded by a cloud of darkness (as deeper darkness) extending to eighty feet from its form which kills all living creatures unless they make Fortitude saving throws (DC 62); those that succeed instead gain 2 negative levels. As an SDA, Shvar Choryati's Life Drain is not considered a necromantic effect or a death effect for the purposes of determining resistances or immunities; custom epic spells may offer resistance. Creatures slain by Shvar Choryati's Life Drain are subject to soul bind.
Engulf: As a standard action, Shvar Choryati can engulf creatures in a 30ft. x 30ft. square. Engulfed creatures must make a Reflex Save (DC 62) to avoid being subject to blasphemy (Caster Level 83); if successful, they may move or leap to a space adjacent to Shvar Choryati's posiiton. Creatures slain by Shvar Choryati in this manner are also subject to soul bind. Engulfed creatures are considered grappled, and subject to blasphemy every round they remain so.[/sblock]
The blood left Anumid's face. "I will communicate your offer."
Do not tarry in your deliberations. You have less than an hour before Nashhte sets.
-------------
Any speculation about what this is about?
edit: Sep reveals all!
[sblock]Shvar Choryati
Shvar Choryati is the name of the phenomenon invoked by Temenun near the small town of Cirone, where Visuit launched her assault on the Temple forces. The name translates approximately as Power of Theft – the 'Theft' to which the name applies, is that of Sun and/or Being. Eater of Light might be a better rendering. The phenomenon is best understood as a Manifest Dream of Cheshne; it is the shadow of a Great Primordial Fear.
Mechanically, Shvar Choryati is based on an epic living spell – an augmented blasphemy/soul bind combination – with 8 divine ranks; it is conjured 'conventionally' with another epic (calling) spell; one which requires huge output to circumvent the divine protections which normally prevent its reification in the bounded cosmos.
Shvar Choryati is treated as a spell effect as cast by a 75th level caster; where noted, it adds its divine ranks to many checks as well. Where spell level is a consideration, Shvar Choryati is treated as an epic or 10th-level spell. Its impulse is to consume light and life, but it cannot be said to possess 'Intelligence,' per se. For purposes of eligibility for salient divine abilities, Shvar Choryati is considered sympathetic with the Domains of Death, Destruction and Evil, although the Eater of Light possesses no domain powers, and lacks any powers which require even a modicum of rational thought.
The phenomenon manifests as a cloud of impenetrable darkness with a diameter of almost 200 feet: its outer zone is its life-draining aura; the inner zone – unguessable in shape – is one of utter blasphemy.
Shvar Choryati's 'perception' (its hunger) extends to eight miles.
For a deific entity/thing, Shvar Choryati has a refreshingly minimal stat block.
Shvar Choryati, Eater of Light (DvR8)
Colossal Ooze (Chaotic, Chthonic, Dream, Evil, Extraplanar)
Hit Dice: 75d10+975 (1725hp)
Initiative: +5
Speed: 40ft.
Armor Class: 25 (-8 size, +10 deflection, +5 Dex, +8 Divine)
Base Atk/Grapple: +56 /+93
Atk: +69 melee (2d8+19, slam) plus Soul Blasphemy
Full Atk: +69 melee (2d8+19, slam)
Space/Reach: 30ft./20ft.
Special Attacks: Life Drain, Soul Blasphemy
Special Qualities: Divine immunities, DR 20/epic, fast healing 140, immortal, ooze qualities, SR 155
SDAs: Divine Fast Healing (x5), Improved Spell Resistance (x4), Life Drain
Saves: Fort +60 Ref +52 Will +50
Abilities: Str 36 Dex 20 Con 36 Int - Wis 17 Cha 25
Challenge Rating: 55
Aura of Fear (Su): Creatures within 800ft. of Shvar Choryati become shaken unless they make a successful Will saving throw (DC58).
Dimension Door (Sp): Shvar Choryati can use this ability at will as a standard action (Caster Level 83).
Soul Blasphemy (Sp): Creatures struck by Shvar Choryati suffer the effects of blasphemy (Caster Level 83). If slain, creatures are automatically subject to a soul bind effect. The death ward spell is ineffective against Soul Blasphemy; epic spells containing the [Ward] seed which are keyed to necromantic effects are entitled to an opposed Caster Level check. Soul Bound entities are held within the form of the Eater of Light; there is no limit to the Hit Dice of a creature subject to this ability. Trapped souls may only be released by the destruction of Shvar Choryati.
Life Drain (SDA): Shvar Choryati is surrounded by a cloud of darkness (as deeper darkness) extending to eighty feet from its form which kills all living creatures unless they make Fortitude saving throws (DC 62); those that succeed instead gain 2 negative levels. As an SDA, Shvar Choryati's Life Drain is not considered a necromantic effect or a death effect for the purposes of determining resistances or immunities; custom epic spells may offer resistance. Creatures slain by Shvar Choryati's Life Drain are subject to soul bind.
Engulf: As a standard action, Shvar Choryati can engulf creatures in a 30ft. x 30ft. square. Engulfed creatures must make a Reflex Save (DC 62) to avoid being subject to blasphemy (Caster Level 83); if successful, they may move or leap to a space adjacent to Shvar Choryati's posiiton. Creatures slain by Shvar Choryati in this manner are also subject to soul bind. Engulfed creatures are considered grappled, and subject to blasphemy every round they remain so.[/sblock]
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Salthorae
Imperial Mountain Dew Taster
There is the Rogues Gallery thread 'Eadric et al'
the latest character updates start around page 31 or so and are interspersed for the next few pages.
I don't know of another "Glossary", though it could be totally useful!
the latest character updates start around page 31 or so and are interspersed for the next few pages.
I don't know of another "Glossary", though it could be totally useful!
Cheiromancer
Adventurer
The ones I have trouble keeping straight are the members of the Chesnite Cabal. Though a list of the convocation of Wyrish Magi would be nice too.
It would probably only take a few minutes of searching, but I'm feeling lazy right now.
edit: the Chesnite Cabal and the Wyrish Magi
The links seem to 'drift' when the thread is edited. Check out 12-24-06 for the Chesnite cabal and 07-18-2002 for the Wyrish magi.
It would probably only take a few minutes of searching, but I'm feeling lazy right now.
edit: the Chesnite Cabal and the Wyrish Magi
The links seem to 'drift' when the thread is edited. Check out 12-24-06 for the Chesnite cabal and 07-18-2002 for the Wyrish magi.
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I've got a copy of tleilaxu's Wyre Appendix I could send you, but I'm afraid it's pretty out of date. You're better off searching the rogue's gallery thread for the new material. Of course if you need a compiled copy of that, I could help with that too.
Cheiromancer
Adventurer
Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 06-12-09
Interpenetration (Mostin In Machinam)
The air rushed past the Ahma as he rode along the sward above the Hynt Coched. As Shvar Choryati had made its first dimensional lurch toward him, Eadric knew that its attention had become focused on him. Having considered that he would be able to draw it away and outpace it, the Ahma had veered sharply south. It quickly became apparent that he had miscalculated.
Some distance away, Mostin turned his arcane sight around him.
Wild magic danced intermittently in the air; auroras generated by the interplay of a half-dozen potent spells. Nearby, the wall of Prahar's Utterdark loomed, impenetrable to his vision; south, the vastness of the Pall of Dhatri was now visible in the moonlight. He gazed west: Naatha, Guho and the hierophants were almost upon them.
Eastward, where the plain rose away, Eadric blazed a path faster than any wind walker, opening a gap of over two miles between himself and the consuming blackness. The phenomenon shuddered forward again – and a little east – ripping the fabric of reality and stretching the Quiescence of the Spheres until it squeezed through, and the dimensional lock snapped back into place.
In an instant, the void sprang forwards almost mile. Mostin's foresight informed him that the Ahma wasn't going to make it. A series of presentiments impacted on his mind.
Mostin cursed, dismissed the Quiescence, and invoked a time stop. He teleported to a point immediately ahead of Eadric, opened a gate, and hopped through. It was a strategy which the Alienist had previously used to extricate Mulissu from Graz'zt's clutches.
Time recommenced.
Eadric blinked, saw Mostin beckoning toward a serene vista, and was instantly transported.
*
The Ahma, sat astride Narh, was high on a mountain; a narrow path wound downwards and away from him. Monasteries clung to the wooded lower slopes; isolated hermitages were perched on bare, snowy shoulders higher up. Below, wide vistas stretched to blue. It was an idyll, as if stolen from a dream he had once had in an innocent youth: a view of the Blessed Plain from the Beatitudes. Now, he seemed to be awakening from a nightmare; he removed his battered helm and breathed. The air was sweet and sharp and full with energy. All was pristine. The sky seemed composed of tiny motes which danced before his eyes, until he focused his sight.
High above, uncounted myriads of archons and devas whirled in the sky. Spheres of increasing brilliance seemed to issue up and away from him, defying laws of distance and perception. Beyond, the Magnitudes pulsed. The light – refracted through the planes of four interposing heavens – was still too overwhelming to gaze upon.
Ahma, the celestials sighed into his mind with one voice.
The massive vibration made Eadric shake.
Mostin stood looking back through the gate into the darkness of Shvar Choryati as it oozed around the portal, unable to penetrate. His pseudopod flexed nervously.
"Mostin…"
"I know they're above me," the Alienist said through gritted teeth. "That's why I'm not turning around and looking up. "
"No. How did you..."
"We had to come a long way in. It might have followed you anywhere else. Believe me when I say I can think of more agreeable locales."
"I need to get back to the fight."
Mostin sighed. "That's precisely what you don't want to do, Eadric. It wants to eat your 'soul' – or whatever you term it. You need Nwm. This is out of your league."
"But the Sela…"
Sela! A pulse which made the mountain tremble.
"Tramst is dead," a familiar voice said.
Eadric turned to face Rintrah, Oronthon's Messenger. He was clad in a simple white gown.
"For the time being," the celestial added. "He is in transit, under Nehael's protection. There is some disagreement amongst the Host whether he is safe or not."
"Disagreement?" Mostin asked, averting his eyes. The notion amongst celestials was a novel one.
"Do you believe him safe?" The Ahma asked directly.
"Yes. But I am in the minority, and my opinion matters little."
"Ah, a demonstration of Empyreal initiative," Mostin sneered. He continued to look through the gate; the blackness had passed over, and was gravitating back to a more reliable source of light. There seemed to be no activity in the immediate vicinity; Shvar Choryati had scoured all bare. A ruddy moonlight had returned to the battlefield.
"I am fallible," Rintrah answered, unfazed. "Enitharmon, less so. How could I deny this basic fact?"
Mostin groaned, and turned to face the celestial, his expression one of nausea. "You are trite. You appeal to hierarchy to avoid responsibility: you are fundamentally disingenuous."
"I wish you were capable of understanding otherwise, Mostin…"
The Alienist became red and twitched. "Would it avoid the World being wracked because Oronthogorgon is having another existential crisis?"
"Enough!" Eadric's eyes flashed. "You forget where you are."
Wrath! Thunder echoed in the spheres above.
Mostin quailed – an expression which quickly became a pout – and turned back to look through the gate, positioning himself again so as not to observe Rintrah directly. Evidently, Eadric possessed some kind of home ground advantage.
Things seemed to be quiet through the portal.
"I'm done here," Mostin announced. "I'm going back through. As you're staying for a while, Eadric, maybe you can ask..."
"I can tell you nothing of the Aeon," Rintrah anticipated him.
"Whatever," Mostin grumbled. "I'm assuming you can figure out a way back. Mulissu was just as appreciative when I did the same for her."
Mostin vanished and the gate snapped shut.
"We should go this way," Rintrah smiled to Eadric. "The view is good."
"Rintrah, I cannot stay…"
"Certainly, you can – for a while. Mostin is correct in one thing; you can no longer meaningfully influence the outcome of this battle."
Gone.
"Gone? Who is gone?" Eadric asked.
Rintrah raised an eyebrow. Evidently, this was also news to the Messenger. "The seven seraphs who entered Viridescence."
"Seraphim?" Aside from Enitharmon, none among the highest choir had left their Altitude since the Fall.
"These are eventful times," Rintrah nodded. "It would appear that Nehael has appropriated them."
(A Migration of Light).
Eadric was dumbfounded. Apparently, others amongst the Host were inclined to join them. A few – perhaps too eager – fell catastrophically, striking the plains below and vanishing.
Rintrah smiled. "Stay focused on the path ahead, and don't be distracted by what transpires above. Do not concern yourself too much; in Consciousness, all events are allegory. Let us walk a little way further; there is a tree I would like you to see."
"In the face of calamity, you seem in no hurry to act."
"I sense no diminishment in the quality of the light," Rintrah said wrily. "It is a prodigal spark which counsels action as the only means to induce motion. I am not here at Enitharmon's behest: I am His Messenger."
"Forgive me," Eadric nodded.
**
As the Quiescence of the Spheres dissolved and Mostin vanished, Ortwine, Lai and the remaining wizards found themselves in something of a predicament. The sidhe had quickly screened them, and Jalael had immediately disjoined Prahar's darkness in order to gain a better appreciation of the tactical situation. It was bad.
Temple units, who had been unable to endure the presence of Shvar Choryati, were routing to the north and west: great, curved swathes of lifeless corpses marked the passage of the Eater of Light.
Prince Tagur, who commanded the rearguard, had deployed a screen of knights to cover the retreat. Prahar led a vicious pursuit. Squadrons of death knights roamed and slew at will, cutting down stragglers and hurling themselves against any remaining pockets of resistance. Three large knots of Templars and their allies remained, but many of the doughtiest warriors – those in whom the light shone brightest – had been greedily devoured by the enemy.
Some distance away, outside of the zone where flight had been dampened, what remained of the Dark Choir – the arch-devas Irel and Shokad – gyred in the sky, locked in furious but inconclusive combat with Prince Orcus and a number of lesser demons.
Ortwine's perception identified Naatha, Guho and their wind-walking cabal half-a-minute distant. A hundred yards away, a demon materialized. And another. Rishih was active, and the teleportation circles were opening again. The consuming darkness – distracted momentarily a mile to the southeast – was moving back towards them. News of the disappearance of both the Ahma and the Sela was beginning to spread.
The sidhe turned to Mulissu.
"Remind me why it is exactly that you're here again?" She asked.
"Hlioth seems to think that some kind of evacuation is both possible and desirable."
Ortwine raised an eyebrow. "The witch?"
Mulissu nodded. "Her foresight is erratic, but occasionally inspired."
"I suppose so. I will negotiate some breathing space." She handed Mulissu her box of shades.
"You seek to parley?" Mulissu was incredulous. "At this juncture? Why would they listen to you? And why do you pay heed to Hlioth, of all people?"
Ortwine laughed.
Prahar, she spoke directly into his mind, but also into the thoughts of those other immortals who were present. I've got Sibud's talisman. Call off your dogs. I'm willing to make a deal.
[Guho + Rishih + Naatha]: Wait!
**
The Alienist glanced around nervously and licked his lips. He was nearing the point where he was becoming vulnerable; a decidedly undesirable situation. He reached out with his mind to contact Sho.
Moments later, the Infernal Tower appeared immediately before Mostin, rearing above him with its gate facing him.
[Sho]: I recommend that you embark quickly.
Mostin didn't need telling twice.
[Mulissu]: Mostin! Where the hell have you been? Never mind. Get to Kustus and what's left of the Flamines. Get them out of here.
[Mostin]: Why the hiatus?
[Jalael]: Ortwine is ceding the field and negotiating the safe recovery of casualties.
[Mostin] (Mad Laughter): Safe? I notice a certain chthonic void seems undistracted by any diplomatic protocols. And since when did Ortwine become the chief ambassador of Wyre?
[Mulissu] (Irritated): Since she could lie better than anyone else! Now make haste!
**
"A weregild, so to speak," Ortwine smiled easily. "Or reparations if you prefer. Or simply bribery, if we can speak more directly."
Her apparent nonchalance belied her caution, and she was ready to sidestep into Faerie at the first sign of treachery, or if any magical energies were suddenly gathered. Before her, four great Cheshnite immortals – Prahar, Guho, Rishih and Naatha – were arrayed, surrounded by dozens of undead and demonic retainers.
Ortwine was alone. She was also surprised to find that Sibud's token was attracting this much attention, and lamented the fact that she might be grossly underestimating its value. The sidhe scanned the opposition.
Naatha, she had encountered before, but the others were new to her. Guho writhed, a festering heap of corruption; larvae – which seemed to comprise her entirety – shifted and flowed in shapes which paused at times to resemble that of a mortal visage.
Prahar was mounted on a black monster of approximately equine shape; he was clad in full harness, but his raised visor displayed a shrivelled countenance; one which indicated both a malice and a madness of unguessable depth. From his jaws – punctuated by rows of razor-sharp teeth – a sticky secretion dripped. He raved and slavered, and seemed barely in control of his faculties.
Rishih – who stood slightly to one side, with obvious distaste for his peers – appeared human; albeit one ancient and wicked. A weight of being afflicted him, as though he craved annihilation; he wore only an ascetic's garb, but bore a staff of tremendous power.
Before them all stood Anumid, grudgingly invoked by the immortals as arbiter. His veneer of civility was thin.
"But to which oaths can I bind you?" Ortwine continued. "I suspect that each of you is as inclined to malfeasance as I in contractual matters. The answer is none, of course; hence I continue to speak."
"We give you one hour," Anumid spat. "I do not speak for Shvar Choryati. Give me the talisman. There are no assurances."
"Prahar should first dismiss his spell," Ortwine said reasonably. Within range of her deific sight, Mostin's tower had materialized again. "It will expedite our retreat."
Naatha, also sensing the relocation of the infernal device, immediately assumed treachery and targeted Ortwine with chains of antimagic.
The sidhe had vanished before she had even raised her hand.
Too bad, Ortwine's voice echoed in their minds, moments later.
Prahar became enraged. The others withdrew from him.
"Fortify your position before sunrise," Anumid hissed to Rishih and Naatha. "Let the maniac be concerned with any pursuit. Consolidate. The field is ours."
Anumid scowled, but felt an inward relief that Sibud's token was not in Prahar's hands. At least his own presence had averted the immortals coming to blows with one another. That had to be worth something. For the moment, at least.
*
Jalael had conjured a teleportation circle – the only one available to any of the remaining collegiate mages – through which the remnants of the Temple centre were fleeing. Tozinak had opened a gate; Mulissu a shadow avenue. Temple scrollbearers and flamines were being ushered into the Infernal Tower against their better judgement. At Mostin's suggestion, egress from the battlefield was being offered first to spellcasters; others – who weren't as strategically important – would have to make their own arrangements.
Demons harried them in droves; banishments were discharged.
**
As the very first light of dawn stole over the battlefield, a pillar of flame appeared amid the slaughter, at the same spot where Saint Tahl the Incorruptible had self-immolated. Fiery wings – briefly appearing and then vanishing – cradled Tahl as he corporeated again.
Looking around him, he wept.
"Come," Hlioth said, appearing from nowhere. "Before they do. We have lost much tonight."
In her hand, she held Drengh, Ninit's spear.
*
Eighty miles to the north, perched on a rocky crag, Nwm – in the form of an eagle with a battered aspect – awoke and screeched. His head hurt. He remembered little of his exhausted journey to his roost.
As he stretched his wings, he started. Squatting motionless on her haunches above him, perched upon an outcrop and staring southwards at the Pall of Dhatri, a lean figure; sable-clad, with scarlet hair flapping in the wind. She said nothing.
In his mind, another voice.
[Nehael]: About time. You have a busy day ahead.
Nwm groaned.
**
Temenun relaxed in his suites at Jashat. A victory, to be certain. He apprised a Naztharune servant that he had a visitor, and to admit Yeshe the Binder. She entered calmly.
"What do you know of the Urn?" She asked.
"It reaches beyond the Veils," he replied.
"You incited Visuit to interrupt my meditation?"
"Her instinct for war needs no prompting," Temenun purred.
"And the Urn?"
"Is safely buried in the deep again. Gu-Kaama has recovered it. Mostin inadvertently empowered her."
"Shvar Choryati is out of control. It drives northwards now toward Wyre. The Enforcer will eliminate the Anantam who are implicated in its conjuration if it passes her threshold. I assume that you have some contingency in mind?"
"I have a while yet to consider," the Tiger said smoothly. "And always time to indulge your curiosity, Yeshe."
"You are most gracious, brother," Yeshe smiled insincerely.
Interpenetration (Mostin In Machinam)
The air rushed past the Ahma as he rode along the sward above the Hynt Coched. As Shvar Choryati had made its first dimensional lurch toward him, Eadric knew that its attention had become focused on him. Having considered that he would be able to draw it away and outpace it, the Ahma had veered sharply south. It quickly became apparent that he had miscalculated.
Some distance away, Mostin turned his arcane sight around him.
Wild magic danced intermittently in the air; auroras generated by the interplay of a half-dozen potent spells. Nearby, the wall of Prahar's Utterdark loomed, impenetrable to his vision; south, the vastness of the Pall of Dhatri was now visible in the moonlight. He gazed west: Naatha, Guho and the hierophants were almost upon them.
Eastward, where the plain rose away, Eadric blazed a path faster than any wind walker, opening a gap of over two miles between himself and the consuming blackness. The phenomenon shuddered forward again – and a little east – ripping the fabric of reality and stretching the Quiescence of the Spheres until it squeezed through, and the dimensional lock snapped back into place.
In an instant, the void sprang forwards almost mile. Mostin's foresight informed him that the Ahma wasn't going to make it. A series of presentiments impacted on his mind.
Mostin cursed, dismissed the Quiescence, and invoked a time stop. He teleported to a point immediately ahead of Eadric, opened a gate, and hopped through. It was a strategy which the Alienist had previously used to extricate Mulissu from Graz'zt's clutches.
Time recommenced.
Eadric blinked, saw Mostin beckoning toward a serene vista, and was instantly transported.
*
The Ahma, sat astride Narh, was high on a mountain; a narrow path wound downwards and away from him. Monasteries clung to the wooded lower slopes; isolated hermitages were perched on bare, snowy shoulders higher up. Below, wide vistas stretched to blue. It was an idyll, as if stolen from a dream he had once had in an innocent youth: a view of the Blessed Plain from the Beatitudes. Now, he seemed to be awakening from a nightmare; he removed his battered helm and breathed. The air was sweet and sharp and full with energy. All was pristine. The sky seemed composed of tiny motes which danced before his eyes, until he focused his sight.
High above, uncounted myriads of archons and devas whirled in the sky. Spheres of increasing brilliance seemed to issue up and away from him, defying laws of distance and perception. Beyond, the Magnitudes pulsed. The light – refracted through the planes of four interposing heavens – was still too overwhelming to gaze upon.
Ahma, the celestials sighed into his mind with one voice.
The massive vibration made Eadric shake.
Mostin stood looking back through the gate into the darkness of Shvar Choryati as it oozed around the portal, unable to penetrate. His pseudopod flexed nervously.
"Mostin…"
"I know they're above me," the Alienist said through gritted teeth. "That's why I'm not turning around and looking up. "
"No. How did you..."
"We had to come a long way in. It might have followed you anywhere else. Believe me when I say I can think of more agreeable locales."
"I need to get back to the fight."
Mostin sighed. "That's precisely what you don't want to do, Eadric. It wants to eat your 'soul' – or whatever you term it. You need Nwm. This is out of your league."
"But the Sela…"
Sela! A pulse which made the mountain tremble.
"Tramst is dead," a familiar voice said.
Eadric turned to face Rintrah, Oronthon's Messenger. He was clad in a simple white gown.
"For the time being," the celestial added. "He is in transit, under Nehael's protection. There is some disagreement amongst the Host whether he is safe or not."
"Disagreement?" Mostin asked, averting his eyes. The notion amongst celestials was a novel one.
"Do you believe him safe?" The Ahma asked directly.
"Yes. But I am in the minority, and my opinion matters little."
"Ah, a demonstration of Empyreal initiative," Mostin sneered. He continued to look through the gate; the blackness had passed over, and was gravitating back to a more reliable source of light. There seemed to be no activity in the immediate vicinity; Shvar Choryati had scoured all bare. A ruddy moonlight had returned to the battlefield.
"I am fallible," Rintrah answered, unfazed. "Enitharmon, less so. How could I deny this basic fact?"
Mostin groaned, and turned to face the celestial, his expression one of nausea. "You are trite. You appeal to hierarchy to avoid responsibility: you are fundamentally disingenuous."
"I wish you were capable of understanding otherwise, Mostin…"
The Alienist became red and twitched. "Would it avoid the World being wracked because Oronthogorgon is having another existential crisis?"
"Enough!" Eadric's eyes flashed. "You forget where you are."
Wrath! Thunder echoed in the spheres above.
Mostin quailed – an expression which quickly became a pout – and turned back to look through the gate, positioning himself again so as not to observe Rintrah directly. Evidently, Eadric possessed some kind of home ground advantage.
Things seemed to be quiet through the portal.
"I'm done here," Mostin announced. "I'm going back through. As you're staying for a while, Eadric, maybe you can ask..."
"I can tell you nothing of the Aeon," Rintrah anticipated him.
"Whatever," Mostin grumbled. "I'm assuming you can figure out a way back. Mulissu was just as appreciative when I did the same for her."
Mostin vanished and the gate snapped shut.
"We should go this way," Rintrah smiled to Eadric. "The view is good."
"Rintrah, I cannot stay…"
"Certainly, you can – for a while. Mostin is correct in one thing; you can no longer meaningfully influence the outcome of this battle."
Gone.
"Gone? Who is gone?" Eadric asked.
Rintrah raised an eyebrow. Evidently, this was also news to the Messenger. "The seven seraphs who entered Viridescence."
"Seraphim?" Aside from Enitharmon, none among the highest choir had left their Altitude since the Fall.
"These are eventful times," Rintrah nodded. "It would appear that Nehael has appropriated them."
(A Migration of Light).
Eadric was dumbfounded. Apparently, others amongst the Host were inclined to join them. A few – perhaps too eager – fell catastrophically, striking the plains below and vanishing.
Rintrah smiled. "Stay focused on the path ahead, and don't be distracted by what transpires above. Do not concern yourself too much; in Consciousness, all events are allegory. Let us walk a little way further; there is a tree I would like you to see."
"In the face of calamity, you seem in no hurry to act."
"I sense no diminishment in the quality of the light," Rintrah said wrily. "It is a prodigal spark which counsels action as the only means to induce motion. I am not here at Enitharmon's behest: I am His Messenger."
"Forgive me," Eadric nodded.
**
As the Quiescence of the Spheres dissolved and Mostin vanished, Ortwine, Lai and the remaining wizards found themselves in something of a predicament. The sidhe had quickly screened them, and Jalael had immediately disjoined Prahar's darkness in order to gain a better appreciation of the tactical situation. It was bad.
Temple units, who had been unable to endure the presence of Shvar Choryati, were routing to the north and west: great, curved swathes of lifeless corpses marked the passage of the Eater of Light.
Prince Tagur, who commanded the rearguard, had deployed a screen of knights to cover the retreat. Prahar led a vicious pursuit. Squadrons of death knights roamed and slew at will, cutting down stragglers and hurling themselves against any remaining pockets of resistance. Three large knots of Templars and their allies remained, but many of the doughtiest warriors – those in whom the light shone brightest – had been greedily devoured by the enemy.
Some distance away, outside of the zone where flight had been dampened, what remained of the Dark Choir – the arch-devas Irel and Shokad – gyred in the sky, locked in furious but inconclusive combat with Prince Orcus and a number of lesser demons.
Ortwine's perception identified Naatha, Guho and their wind-walking cabal half-a-minute distant. A hundred yards away, a demon materialized. And another. Rishih was active, and the teleportation circles were opening again. The consuming darkness – distracted momentarily a mile to the southeast – was moving back towards them. News of the disappearance of both the Ahma and the Sela was beginning to spread.
The sidhe turned to Mulissu.
"Remind me why it is exactly that you're here again?" She asked.
"Hlioth seems to think that some kind of evacuation is both possible and desirable."
Ortwine raised an eyebrow. "The witch?"
Mulissu nodded. "Her foresight is erratic, but occasionally inspired."
"I suppose so. I will negotiate some breathing space." She handed Mulissu her box of shades.
"You seek to parley?" Mulissu was incredulous. "At this juncture? Why would they listen to you? And why do you pay heed to Hlioth, of all people?"
Ortwine laughed.
Prahar, she spoke directly into his mind, but also into the thoughts of those other immortals who were present. I've got Sibud's talisman. Call off your dogs. I'm willing to make a deal.
[Guho + Rishih + Naatha]: Wait!
**
The Alienist glanced around nervously and licked his lips. He was nearing the point where he was becoming vulnerable; a decidedly undesirable situation. He reached out with his mind to contact Sho.
Moments later, the Infernal Tower appeared immediately before Mostin, rearing above him with its gate facing him.
[Sho]: I recommend that you embark quickly.
Mostin didn't need telling twice.
[Mulissu]: Mostin! Where the hell have you been? Never mind. Get to Kustus and what's left of the Flamines. Get them out of here.
[Mostin]: Why the hiatus?
[Jalael]: Ortwine is ceding the field and negotiating the safe recovery of casualties.
[Mostin] (Mad Laughter): Safe? I notice a certain chthonic void seems undistracted by any diplomatic protocols. And since when did Ortwine become the chief ambassador of Wyre?
[Mulissu] (Irritated): Since she could lie better than anyone else! Now make haste!
**
"A weregild, so to speak," Ortwine smiled easily. "Or reparations if you prefer. Or simply bribery, if we can speak more directly."
Her apparent nonchalance belied her caution, and she was ready to sidestep into Faerie at the first sign of treachery, or if any magical energies were suddenly gathered. Before her, four great Cheshnite immortals – Prahar, Guho, Rishih and Naatha – were arrayed, surrounded by dozens of undead and demonic retainers.
Ortwine was alone. She was also surprised to find that Sibud's token was attracting this much attention, and lamented the fact that she might be grossly underestimating its value. The sidhe scanned the opposition.
Naatha, she had encountered before, but the others were new to her. Guho writhed, a festering heap of corruption; larvae – which seemed to comprise her entirety – shifted and flowed in shapes which paused at times to resemble that of a mortal visage.
Prahar was mounted on a black monster of approximately equine shape; he was clad in full harness, but his raised visor displayed a shrivelled countenance; one which indicated both a malice and a madness of unguessable depth. From his jaws – punctuated by rows of razor-sharp teeth – a sticky secretion dripped. He raved and slavered, and seemed barely in control of his faculties.
Rishih – who stood slightly to one side, with obvious distaste for his peers – appeared human; albeit one ancient and wicked. A weight of being afflicted him, as though he craved annihilation; he wore only an ascetic's garb, but bore a staff of tremendous power.
Before them all stood Anumid, grudgingly invoked by the immortals as arbiter. His veneer of civility was thin.
"But to which oaths can I bind you?" Ortwine continued. "I suspect that each of you is as inclined to malfeasance as I in contractual matters. The answer is none, of course; hence I continue to speak."
"We give you one hour," Anumid spat. "I do not speak for Shvar Choryati. Give me the talisman. There are no assurances."
"Prahar should first dismiss his spell," Ortwine said reasonably. Within range of her deific sight, Mostin's tower had materialized again. "It will expedite our retreat."
Naatha, also sensing the relocation of the infernal device, immediately assumed treachery and targeted Ortwine with chains of antimagic.
The sidhe had vanished before she had even raised her hand.
Too bad, Ortwine's voice echoed in their minds, moments later.
Prahar became enraged. The others withdrew from him.
"Fortify your position before sunrise," Anumid hissed to Rishih and Naatha. "Let the maniac be concerned with any pursuit. Consolidate. The field is ours."
Anumid scowled, but felt an inward relief that Sibud's token was not in Prahar's hands. At least his own presence had averted the immortals coming to blows with one another. That had to be worth something. For the moment, at least.
*
Jalael had conjured a teleportation circle – the only one available to any of the remaining collegiate mages – through which the remnants of the Temple centre were fleeing. Tozinak had opened a gate; Mulissu a shadow avenue. Temple scrollbearers and flamines were being ushered into the Infernal Tower against their better judgement. At Mostin's suggestion, egress from the battlefield was being offered first to spellcasters; others – who weren't as strategically important – would have to make their own arrangements.
Demons harried them in droves; banishments were discharged.
**
As the very first light of dawn stole over the battlefield, a pillar of flame appeared amid the slaughter, at the same spot where Saint Tahl the Incorruptible had self-immolated. Fiery wings – briefly appearing and then vanishing – cradled Tahl as he corporeated again.
Looking around him, he wept.
"Come," Hlioth said, appearing from nowhere. "Before they do. We have lost much tonight."
In her hand, she held Drengh, Ninit's spear.
*
Eighty miles to the north, perched on a rocky crag, Nwm – in the form of an eagle with a battered aspect – awoke and screeched. His head hurt. He remembered little of his exhausted journey to his roost.
As he stretched his wings, he started. Squatting motionless on her haunches above him, perched upon an outcrop and staring southwards at the Pall of Dhatri, a lean figure; sable-clad, with scarlet hair flapping in the wind. She said nothing.
In his mind, another voice.
[Nehael]: About time. You have a busy day ahead.
Nwm groaned.
**
Temenun relaxed in his suites at Jashat. A victory, to be certain. He apprised a Naztharune servant that he had a visitor, and to admit Yeshe the Binder. She entered calmly.
"What do you know of the Urn?" She asked.
"It reaches beyond the Veils," he replied.
"You incited Visuit to interrupt my meditation?"
"Her instinct for war needs no prompting," Temenun purred.
"And the Urn?"
"Is safely buried in the deep again. Gu-Kaama has recovered it. Mostin inadvertently empowered her."
"Shvar Choryati is out of control. It drives northwards now toward Wyre. The Enforcer will eliminate the Anantam who are implicated in its conjuration if it passes her threshold. I assume that you have some contingency in mind?"
"I have a while yet to consider," the Tiger said smoothly. "And always time to indulge your curiosity, Yeshe."
"You are most gracious, brother," Yeshe smiled insincerely.
Cheiromancer
Adventurer
Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 08-30-2009
TREE
[SKADDING]: What happened when the Sela died?
[BREY]: Mind does not die.
[SKADDING]: But Tramst died. The kas was destroyed.
[BREY]: Nwm the Preceptor afforded him another.
[SKADDING]: But the Sela? At this juncture – what was its nature?
[BREY]: Why would it be other than it is? Your mind is too focused on doctrinal questions. Apprehend the Moment and eschew theology.
[SKADDING]: You evade the question.
[BREY]: And will continue to do so! You must be flexible in your understanding of hypostases; rigid dogma in this area – more than any other – is detrimental to the cultivation of Saizhan.
[SKADDING]: Please, indulge me. Sineig suggests that the ahmasaljan was the only component to traverse the Hahio. He said that a Flame of Oronthon was present; that it lingered, and he perceived it.
[BREY]: Perhaps such chose to reveal itself to him: how else could Sineig sense the imperceptible? The Sublime Essence. He posits a quincunx of natures in Tramst; others a quaternity. They can argue until the end of time and it will avail nothing. The Irrenite tendency to formulate mystery is apparent in this; I feel duty bound to point out that certain dubious thaumaturgic practices also accompany his point of view.
[SKADDING]: I had, in fact, considered Skohsldaur.
[BREY]: I would advise against it.
[SKADDING]: My father has voiced a similar opinion. My argument is solid.
[BREY]: And what might that be?
[SKADDING]: I have been to Heaven; you have not. I have a perspective which is difficult to communicate.
[BREY] (Wrily): So spake the Nameless Fiend! This experience must surely carry weight. Still, I find the prospect of such tension disagreeable. Who will look to my bees if I choose such a demanding vehicle?
[SKADDING]: And devotion is for old men…
[BREY]: Wise old men, Skadding. Both wise and old.
[SKADDING]: You cling to life! I knew it!
[BREY]: Cling? Not I. To me, life is a dream both surreal and utterly poignant; I have faced certain death more times than I care to count, yet still I stand here. This also affords a certain perspective; one difficult to communicate…
[SKADDING]: Saizho.
[BREY]: No. This is mundane wisdom.
[SKADDING]: Is there such a thing?
[BREY]: All Wisdom is Mundane. Saizha?
**
They reached the crest of a hill, and Eadric found himself gazing into a deep ravine. It seemed utterly wild; a virgin corner of the mountain. An ancient yew dominated the chasm, by virtue of its presence rather than its stature. They began to descend towards it, and Eadric noticed celestials in its vicinity.
"It is profoundly sapient," Rintrah explained. "More so than any in the Host. And benign – for the most part. Many devas have been drawn to it. And some former Masters. It is the Yew-ludja; the tree in the courtyard of the Temple in Morne is one of its scions."
"Are there others in the Heavens?"
"Yes and no. Yew is the only ludja here – it was invoked at the Reversal. One of Oak's scions rises on the Blessed Plain; and a Beech also – these are still profound, although of less magnitude. Others are in other places: and not all are kind. All emanate from the great Tree-ludja in Nizkur.
"They are rapidly awakening," Rintrah continued. "Tree in Nizkur seeks to generate a new axis mundi, so to speak. Nwm's portals between planes serve to mark channels for the roots of its scions. And Hlioth's efforts also. Certain magicks which have been invoked have carved paths more vigorously; transiting entities have left wakes which Tree has been quick to exploit. You might tell Nwm that his fears were unjustified: the celestial case was not asserted without cost."
"Then some kind of equilibrium is being established." The Ahma slowed his steed to a halt.
"Mind precedes, but its workings may be more subtle than you perceive in this case. And the motion of the Adversary also speeds the differentiation. Descend. I will wait here for you."
The Ahma dismounted from Narh and approached Yew quietly; an emotional state which seemed to come naturally, yet as though responding to some external demand. He walked a slow circuit around it. That it was cognizant of his thoughts and feelings – to a far greater extent than he himself was – Eadric had no doubt. The sheer weight of its consciousness was palpable.
He turned to observe Rintrah, but the great celestial was a blurred figure now receded from his mind. From a source deeper than Yew, Eadric knew, the Primordial Tree itself was generating a continuum around the ludja. A resonance which transformed that which was around it.
Devas moved aside to let him pass, whispering Ahma into his thoughts. They had acquired a quality of indefinable measure, which had set them apart from others in the Host. Taint was not the correct word, but a transformative effect of equal significance, and one to which he was sensitive. Were they now viridescent? An imprecise terminology bothered him; yet why systematize?
Viridescent, they whispered. Apparently, a point of doctrine had been made.
The boughs stretched up high above him; they seemed to bask in the Radiance pouring down from the Magnitudes. Silence, as the tree breathed Wisdom of impossible depth.
If this is Heaven, then it pleases me, Eadric thought.
He sat and prayed for the safe passage of the Sela.
**
The reincarnation of Tramst by Nwm in Nizkur was a quiet event, untroubled by any fanfare or ceremony.
Nwm proceeded to recall the wizards, affording Daunton the Diviner a far younger body than the one which the wizard had previously enjoyed. Daunton's mood improved considerably with a more youthful and dashing aspect, and a general limberness. Two massive reincarnations, followed by dozens more; invoked by Mesikammi, Lai, the Uediians, Temple Adepts sympathetic to the Reconciliation.
The roll of those who could not be recovered was long and depressing: Ninit and the boars; eight of Lai's twelve handmaidens; Temple grandees, penitents and scrollbearers; common soldiers too numerous to count.
Afterwards, Nwm arranged a meeting between Nehael and Mostin. An encounter which the Preceptor dreaded.
*
Mostin breathed with conscious measure and attempted to remain focused.
Nwm had referred to this place as Kilthei or Kinthei or Qinthei or some such: the air was pregnant with a power which Mostin had never before experienced; all seemed doused in an abundant, fertile energy. The walls which separated any number of worlds were gossamer-thin; Faerie and its primordial analogues; unnamed spirit dimensions, inhabited by monstrous animal-deities; the forgotten heavens of shamans who had been dead for a hundred generations. All were contained within the Green hollow. Each merely a step away.
A tree – the pivotal node through which Tree manifested, Mostin realized – stood above a small pond possessed of unusual clarity, upon the surface of which tiny motes of silver-green danced or floated. His own presence seemed to go unheeded. Surely not unnoticed. Dwarfed, in fact, beyond imagining. Yet it seemed merely a tree...
Nearby, Rimilin of the Skin sat cross-legged upon a flat stone, examining patterns within a leaf which the Tree had shed. He had been encysted or subsumed in some way; his Will erased, or captured and redirected. Unexpectedly, Mostin experienced a upwelling of profound empathy for the Acolyte. He turned to Nehael; her power was veiled, but still perceivable.
"Divinity becomes you," Mostin doffed his hat with his pseudopod. "Will you be taking a more proactive stance in the war?"
Nwm, standing to one side, sighed. This would be just too irritating. Ortwine observed lazily.
Nehael smiled. "I assert my inscrutability. You are here because of the Urn, Mostin. I also notice that you have Graz'zt in your robe pocket. Were I a vengeful goddess…but alas, I have no use for him. The Urn…"
"Soneillon has it."
"Yes," Teppu nodded. "This much I have determined. And for that, the prior I must assume some responsibility. Jovol's foresight was imperfect. I believe he layed a variety of other contingencies according to other possible futures."
"What are you?" Mostin fixed him with a stare.
"I have no idea," Teppu confessed. "I'll remember when I die."
"He is an agent of the Aeon," Nehael said.
"That is a theory," Teppu observed. "I have no evidence to support it. I am certainly Green; the question remains as to whether I can be both."
Nehael shrugged. "As far as culpability goes, the principal offender stands before us. Why did you send her Outside, Mostin?"
"Your judgements do not concern me," Mostin said haughtily.
"Four times Fallen now. She has escaped. Had you considered that she might build an Infinity around her?"
"You are familiar with my theories?" The Alienist was pleasantly surprised.
"I speak in a language you understand," Nehael said evenly. "I regret that the facts of the matter are incommunicable."
Mostin twitched.
"Do not mistake the truth for deific condescension," Nehael anticipated him.
"Or foresight, for that matter," she added before he could speak. "I know you well, Mostin."
"You've made your point," Mostin grumbled.
"The Viridity unfolds. The ludjas bind worlds together, but where will the remaining scions sprout? Tree is silent in this; all watch with anticipation. You should not berate yourself for abandoning the race for Azzagrat; you acted in good faith."
"I blame only Tozinak's stupidity," Mostin waved his appendage dismissively. "And his inappropriate use of oological metaphor when attempting to communicate. Nehael. What of the Aeon?"
"It is beyond my scrutiny," Nehael said. "I can offer you no advice. But I would ask you to reconsider your original plan."
Mostin cocked his head.
"The gates in Azzagrat, Mostin. You could still close them."
Mostin scowled. "Why? There is no longer any purpose."
"One single selfless act? A Flame Precedes the Aeon. What does it do, Mostin?"
"Ask your friend. He scribed it."
"My memory is poor," Teppu admitted. "You are better informed than I."
"It uncorks the Urn," Mostin explained. "In a manner of speaking. But the opportunity is passed. Did Jovol lay some kind of geas on Tozinak?"
Teppu sighed. "It is possible. He may also have been manipulated by another agent. I suspect that frustration with the imperfect game of prescience led to my abandoning it; I would urge you to do the same."
"I think not," Mostin smiled.
Nehael closed her eyes and exhaled.
Mostin condescended to give an inquiring look.
"Scions. An Oak and an Elm, north of Galda. Direct the Wyrish retreat towards them. And in response to your original question, yes."
"Reflexive is not pro-active."
"We have different methods," Nehael whispered. "Didn't you know? You may remain in Nizkur for now; I grant permission. Please refrain from disruptive activities."
"Permission?"
"Necessarily, when at war, a wise dictator invokes martial law," Nehael said drily.
"I also understand that you have seduced a clutch of Seraphim?"
Ortwine raised an eyebrow.
"News travels fast," Teppu sighed. "Or your sources are remarkably well-informed. And I have not even spoken with them. Tree has already dispatched them on various errands."
"The nature of which you are inclined to reveal?" The Alienist asked.
"If I knew what they were, I might."
Abruptly, the hairs on Ortwine's neck stood on end. Mostin's eyes bulged. A crescendo of magical energy which became almost deafening.
A pulse of tremendous power emanated from Tree. Dimension waxed sharp or retreated. A cascade of fortifying waves. Impregnability. Afterwards, silence. Somehow, the matrix possessed a pattern familiar to Mostin.
"What just happened?" Ortwine asked.
"NonGreen forms of interplanar travel have been discontinued," Teppu clapped.
"What?" Mostin's jaw dropped.
"Where?" Ortwine asked.
"Just this world," Nehael smiled. "Dreamers are unaffected."
"I do not dream," Mostin spoke the word as though it were an unsavory habit. "Is this a permanent imposition?"
"I would rather see it as a means to end other, temporary, impositions," Nwm grinned broadly.
Mostin flailed. "Well, you would. Your tree just dimensionally locked the whole damn planet. And what about my tower? What am I going to do now?"
"I recommend tree stride," Nwm said earnestly.
Mostin glared at Nehael. "And closing the gates? Recovering the Urn? How do you suggest I accomplish this?"
"Nwm. Hlioth. Or you could petition Cherry directly. Be careful – Cherry is a tricky one. And my instinct is that this is a temporary measure, if that is any consolation."
"If temporary means 'one billion years' then no, not particularly," the Alienist glared. "And exempting dreamers leaves a lot of big holes."
"Dream will be monitored," Nehael smiled.
The Seraphim, Mostin knew.
"A number of myriads have also joined them," Nehael caught the thought.
"The other scions?" Ortwine peered at her. "Are they all…sprouting? Do you know where they are?"
"Not all," Nehael shook her head. "Some will remain hidden."
"Restricting traffic is wise," Ortwine nodded. "How do I get to Afqithan?"
"I believe previous portals will remain open," Nwm answered. "You should have asked me where they were earlier."
"Evidently," Ortwine raised an eyebrow.
"This is intolerable," Mostin spat. "I will find a way to circumvent this."
"No, Mostin, you will not," Nehael regarded him gravely. "For a little while, be patient. There are things specifically excluded or trapped here now against their will which dwarf you in significance. Perhaps it is better that you are restrained, or at least monitored."
"I?" He was incredulous.
"Mostin," she drew close. All notion of sophistry had vanished from her demeanour; she spoke into the core of his being. "Believe me when I say that I honour you and love you, Mostin, because such is my nature; but you must recognize that what you are – how you see and what you do – these things are anathema to me. You possess a potential for horror which disturbs me.
"And this," Nehael smiled as a clump of moss and sod grew in her hand. "This is Mine, Mostin. All of it. You are a guest. Don't forget it."
"Currently, I am a prisoner," Mostin seethed.
"If you wish egress, petition one who can transport you; I will do it if you request. I will take you outside – but not Outside. You will need to negotiate at a Green concursion if you wish to return inside. Unless you wish to dream."
"Bah!" Mostin grunted. "And what is a 'concursion' supposed to be?"
"A node. Interface. Gate."
"And how might I recognize these?"
"The scions, Mostin," Nehael smiled wrily. "Or in some cases, the ludjas themselves."
"I need to appeal to trees to be allowed to go about my normal business? Many of which, by your own admission, 'will remain hidden?'"
"Essentially, yes. Or one of we five."
Mostin looked around. Nehael. Teppu. Hlioth. Nwm. Mesikammi.
Ah. Those five.
"Where are the ludjas themselves?" the Alienist demanded. "Assuming that you can be at least that forthcoming."
"Here in Nizkur: Oak, Elm and Ash. Others in the Beatitudes, Throile, Azzagrat. On Avernus; in Faerie. In Mulhuk. In the Hidden Realm. Five have yet to manifest themselves…"
"Hidden Realm?"
"I can show you," Mesikammi offered.
"Your reality?" Mostin groaned. "You're as mad as I am. And what is this talk of Trees in Hell?"
"Some equilibria must be forced," Nehael smiled.
**
They gathered at Mostin's manse in the Forest of Nizkur; the building had acquired an eccentric turret of modest proportions, oddly at ease with the prevailing aesthetic and comfortable in the sylvan surroundings. The Infernal Tower's now-inaccessible extradimensional interior – like that of much of the manse itself – meant that Mostin had a much reduced living space. Nwm, and a number of goddesses, saints and wizards crowded around the Alienist's kitchen table.
Mostin had considered the significance of the Inertia of the Spheres – as he had scathingly termed Tree's reordering of planar reality – and determined that it was, in fact, utterly beyond his ability to bypass. He sighed, handing Nwm a piece of paper with many numbers and symbols scrawled upon it. It meant nothing to the Preceptor, whose magic was instinctive; the Alienist explained with forced patience.
"Half of the flamines have been consumed: tasty morsels, I'm sure. Many reservoirs are drained. The Pall of Dhatri is out of reach, and will likely remain so in any case. You can banish the Eater of Light; if you do, then you can say good-bye to those whom it ate. If you were to destroy it, they would be liberated: this would be preferable. Slay it. It'll hurt, but you've got enough juice at a stretch. Let me configure the spell, as I am otherwise now at a loose end." More than a hint of bitterness was present in Mostin's voice.
Nwm nodded.
Ortwine smiled coolly, and turned to Nwm. "I have a question. Did you really need to kill the Sela, or were you just making a point?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"I'm glad that you're carefully considering the ramifications of your actions," Mostin said acidly. "It's not like you've caused any problems so far."
"I approve of Tree's interdiction," Tahl spoke wearily. "The progress of Shvar Choryati has been slowed drastically. All enemy movements must also now occur conventionally."
Mulissu nodded. "I no longer need to invest more than half of my energy simply to maintain Fumaril's defense. We are in a better position than we were twelve hours ago."
"And elementals are considered sufficiently 'Green' to pass muster," Mostin complained.
"And I am tired of your incessant whining," Mulissu sighed. "Do you have nothing useful to contribute?"
"No," Mostin replied, staring at Nwm. "But I have a good many questions. What is Gihaahia's role in this? Why did you wake up with her looming over you?"
"I don't know that she has one," Nwm answered. "Her mandate is … not incompatible … with the exclusion. Perhaps Nehael has spoken with her."
"The succubus in her is exerting its charms," Ortwine said approvingly. "You can't keep a good demon down. She'll snare them all."
"Not all."
Ortwine shrugged. "Tree is acquiring an exciting variety of thralls. I believe I chose the right side."
"I have no doubt that you'll be on the winning side," Nwm remarked drily. "As to information which I possess to which you are not privy – yes, in a manner of speaking. Insofar as that nothing which has happened surprises me, although I wouldn't exactly say I've anticipated anything, either."
Tahl stood abruptly. "The Ahma has returned. He is at Galda, ordering the defense.
"Splendid. Assemble the minions," Ortwine waved her hand.
"And none of the other Great Wyrish Wizards have anything to contribute?" Mostin inquired.
"Not especially," Daunton said vaguely. "Do you think I should keep the beard?"
"Your hospitality is diminished," Waide grumbled. "Where are your fruit teas gone? And those little cakes? Your simulacrum is less attentive to replenishing your pantry than Orolde; she spends the day reclining, reading your insane scrawl."
Mostin had to agree. "I need a new apprentice."
"I have gnomes," Ortwine suggested.
Mostin's head bobbed. Gnomes were agreeable enough.
**
**
Shomei the Infernal exited the trance and pondered. It was as Ugales had described: two zones within Qematiel's range, in close proximity to one another, were inscrutable. None save the Adversary might have screened areas of such size from her spell, yet Shomei doubted it was his doing. She determined to investigate the first node: she suspected it was a Power, the presence of which could only be inferred obliquely.
Qematiel – an atavistic hellfire wyrm – abode within the realm of Mahazael Amaimon, King of the Fourth Quarter. An infernal monarch whose exact mandate – other than the reprobation of delinquent devils and distinguished wicked mortals – was hidden to all save the Nameless Fiend, Amaimon was unguessably powerful. He removed himself from Hell's routine workings altogether, and concerned himself with philosophical struggles on a more rarefied level.
Shomei herself had enjoyed the arch-fiend's hospitality for a brief while, after her abduction by the Akesoli in Afqithan. The outcasts and detritus of a hundred unnamed hells and abysms found their way to his demesnes, and were tolerated or punished for unknown reasons; Wyre's Enforcer had made her abode nearby, until she had been plucked to serve as the Claviger's slave.
Shomei armed herself with magic and opened a gate; she passed through into a blasted defile. Lightning wracked the dark skies. Descending carefully, she crossed poisonous rills and found herself in a wide, flat-bottomed canyon. A great thicket – an untended hazel coppice of willful aspect – filled much of it. It murmured power to her; Shomei paused suspiciously, unsure if it was a deific illusion or an empty lure set as some test.
Without warning, fire overhwelmed her and a great claw pushed her a hundred yards through the air, pinning her to the wall of the ravine. A vast, horned head reared before her; ancient draconic eyes – full of wisdom and malice – regarded her briefly, absorbing a thousand details in a glance. They rested on the sigils which the Infernalist bore upon her forehead.
"An Exempt." Qematiel snorted. "I am still inclined to break your body; the Tree recognizes you. It would have otherwise."
Shomei managed to scowl even as she writhed in pain. A ludja? Here? By whose permission?
Tree needs no permissions, Hazel whispered into her mind.
But which was the other? The second un-scryable area?
A brief, unendurable pain as barbs seemed to sink into Shomei's mind: evidently the other ludja was also fully aware of her thoughts. There was the looming threat of an execration so powerful that it would extinguish her.
Holly, she knew. She breathed deeply, mustered her will, and stared straight into Qematiel's eyes.
"What passes here?" Shomei the Infernal asked. The question was possessed of terrific power.
Qematiel regarded her quizzically; none before had ever been audacious enough to attempt to dominate her. It was a fair effort.
"You amuse me. I am not sure. But my role in it – after an eternity of preparation – is not the one I had anticipated."
"And the I?"
"It has migrated," the Wyrm replied. "As will I. Hell is receding."
**
In a dark abysm, Soneillon reflected on her circumstances. Events had not transpired as she might have preferred.
Atop her palace – a vast ziggurat which rose a mile into the skies above dense jungle – a tree had sprouted in a garden, sinking roots through marble and adamant, and fruiting in an instant: an event which coincided exactly with the return of the demoness – bearing Pharamne's Urn – from the wreck of Zelatar. It bore huge, ripe cherries which exuded an irresisitible odor.
The demoness had warded herself in a heartbeat and retreated to a remote fastness, even as the tree had reached out to her mind and urged her to descend. She felt its consciousness pursue her, and she transported herself again. And again. She could not elude it.
Soneillon cursed, fled deep into a chthonic dream - a delirium of unbeing - and brooded.
**
TREE
[SKADDING]: What happened when the Sela died?
[BREY]: Mind does not die.
[SKADDING]: But Tramst died. The kas was destroyed.
[BREY]: Nwm the Preceptor afforded him another.
[SKADDING]: But the Sela? At this juncture – what was its nature?
[BREY]: Why would it be other than it is? Your mind is too focused on doctrinal questions. Apprehend the Moment and eschew theology.
[SKADDING]: You evade the question.
[BREY]: And will continue to do so! You must be flexible in your understanding of hypostases; rigid dogma in this area – more than any other – is detrimental to the cultivation of Saizhan.
[SKADDING]: Please, indulge me. Sineig suggests that the ahmasaljan was the only component to traverse the Hahio. He said that a Flame of Oronthon was present; that it lingered, and he perceived it.
[BREY]: Perhaps such chose to reveal itself to him: how else could Sineig sense the imperceptible? The Sublime Essence. He posits a quincunx of natures in Tramst; others a quaternity. They can argue until the end of time and it will avail nothing. The Irrenite tendency to formulate mystery is apparent in this; I feel duty bound to point out that certain dubious thaumaturgic practices also accompany his point of view.
[SKADDING]: I had, in fact, considered Skohsldaur.
[BREY]: I would advise against it.
[SKADDING]: My father has voiced a similar opinion. My argument is solid.
[BREY]: And what might that be?
[SKADDING]: I have been to Heaven; you have not. I have a perspective which is difficult to communicate.
[BREY] (Wrily): So spake the Nameless Fiend! This experience must surely carry weight. Still, I find the prospect of such tension disagreeable. Who will look to my bees if I choose such a demanding vehicle?
[SKADDING]: And devotion is for old men…
[BREY]: Wise old men, Skadding. Both wise and old.
[SKADDING]: You cling to life! I knew it!
[BREY]: Cling? Not I. To me, life is a dream both surreal and utterly poignant; I have faced certain death more times than I care to count, yet still I stand here. This also affords a certain perspective; one difficult to communicate…
[SKADDING]: Saizho.
[BREY]: No. This is mundane wisdom.
[SKADDING]: Is there such a thing?
[BREY]: All Wisdom is Mundane. Saizha?
**
They reached the crest of a hill, and Eadric found himself gazing into a deep ravine. It seemed utterly wild; a virgin corner of the mountain. An ancient yew dominated the chasm, by virtue of its presence rather than its stature. They began to descend towards it, and Eadric noticed celestials in its vicinity.
"It is profoundly sapient," Rintrah explained. "More so than any in the Host. And benign – for the most part. Many devas have been drawn to it. And some former Masters. It is the Yew-ludja; the tree in the courtyard of the Temple in Morne is one of its scions."
"Are there others in the Heavens?"
"Yes and no. Yew is the only ludja here – it was invoked at the Reversal. One of Oak's scions rises on the Blessed Plain; and a Beech also – these are still profound, although of less magnitude. Others are in other places: and not all are kind. All emanate from the great Tree-ludja in Nizkur.
"They are rapidly awakening," Rintrah continued. "Tree in Nizkur seeks to generate a new axis mundi, so to speak. Nwm's portals between planes serve to mark channels for the roots of its scions. And Hlioth's efforts also. Certain magicks which have been invoked have carved paths more vigorously; transiting entities have left wakes which Tree has been quick to exploit. You might tell Nwm that his fears were unjustified: the celestial case was not asserted without cost."
"Then some kind of equilibrium is being established." The Ahma slowed his steed to a halt.
"Mind precedes, but its workings may be more subtle than you perceive in this case. And the motion of the Adversary also speeds the differentiation. Descend. I will wait here for you."
The Ahma dismounted from Narh and approached Yew quietly; an emotional state which seemed to come naturally, yet as though responding to some external demand. He walked a slow circuit around it. That it was cognizant of his thoughts and feelings – to a far greater extent than he himself was – Eadric had no doubt. The sheer weight of its consciousness was palpable.
He turned to observe Rintrah, but the great celestial was a blurred figure now receded from his mind. From a source deeper than Yew, Eadric knew, the Primordial Tree itself was generating a continuum around the ludja. A resonance which transformed that which was around it.
Devas moved aside to let him pass, whispering Ahma into his thoughts. They had acquired a quality of indefinable measure, which had set them apart from others in the Host. Taint was not the correct word, but a transformative effect of equal significance, and one to which he was sensitive. Were they now viridescent? An imprecise terminology bothered him; yet why systematize?
Viridescent, they whispered. Apparently, a point of doctrine had been made.
The boughs stretched up high above him; they seemed to bask in the Radiance pouring down from the Magnitudes. Silence, as the tree breathed Wisdom of impossible depth.
If this is Heaven, then it pleases me, Eadric thought.
He sat and prayed for the safe passage of the Sela.
**
The reincarnation of Tramst by Nwm in Nizkur was a quiet event, untroubled by any fanfare or ceremony.
Nwm proceeded to recall the wizards, affording Daunton the Diviner a far younger body than the one which the wizard had previously enjoyed. Daunton's mood improved considerably with a more youthful and dashing aspect, and a general limberness. Two massive reincarnations, followed by dozens more; invoked by Mesikammi, Lai, the Uediians, Temple Adepts sympathetic to the Reconciliation.
The roll of those who could not be recovered was long and depressing: Ninit and the boars; eight of Lai's twelve handmaidens; Temple grandees, penitents and scrollbearers; common soldiers too numerous to count.
Afterwards, Nwm arranged a meeting between Nehael and Mostin. An encounter which the Preceptor dreaded.
*
Mostin breathed with conscious measure and attempted to remain focused.
Nwm had referred to this place as Kilthei or Kinthei or Qinthei or some such: the air was pregnant with a power which Mostin had never before experienced; all seemed doused in an abundant, fertile energy. The walls which separated any number of worlds were gossamer-thin; Faerie and its primordial analogues; unnamed spirit dimensions, inhabited by monstrous animal-deities; the forgotten heavens of shamans who had been dead for a hundred generations. All were contained within the Green hollow. Each merely a step away.
A tree – the pivotal node through which Tree manifested, Mostin realized – stood above a small pond possessed of unusual clarity, upon the surface of which tiny motes of silver-green danced or floated. His own presence seemed to go unheeded. Surely not unnoticed. Dwarfed, in fact, beyond imagining. Yet it seemed merely a tree...
Nearby, Rimilin of the Skin sat cross-legged upon a flat stone, examining patterns within a leaf which the Tree had shed. He had been encysted or subsumed in some way; his Will erased, or captured and redirected. Unexpectedly, Mostin experienced a upwelling of profound empathy for the Acolyte. He turned to Nehael; her power was veiled, but still perceivable.
"Divinity becomes you," Mostin doffed his hat with his pseudopod. "Will you be taking a more proactive stance in the war?"
Nwm, standing to one side, sighed. This would be just too irritating. Ortwine observed lazily.
Nehael smiled. "I assert my inscrutability. You are here because of the Urn, Mostin. I also notice that you have Graz'zt in your robe pocket. Were I a vengeful goddess…but alas, I have no use for him. The Urn…"
"Soneillon has it."
"Yes," Teppu nodded. "This much I have determined. And for that, the prior I must assume some responsibility. Jovol's foresight was imperfect. I believe he layed a variety of other contingencies according to other possible futures."
"What are you?" Mostin fixed him with a stare.
"I have no idea," Teppu confessed. "I'll remember when I die."
"He is an agent of the Aeon," Nehael said.
"That is a theory," Teppu observed. "I have no evidence to support it. I am certainly Green; the question remains as to whether I can be both."
Nehael shrugged. "As far as culpability goes, the principal offender stands before us. Why did you send her Outside, Mostin?"
"Your judgements do not concern me," Mostin said haughtily.
"Four times Fallen now. She has escaped. Had you considered that she might build an Infinity around her?"
"You are familiar with my theories?" The Alienist was pleasantly surprised.
"I speak in a language you understand," Nehael said evenly. "I regret that the facts of the matter are incommunicable."
Mostin twitched.
"Do not mistake the truth for deific condescension," Nehael anticipated him.
"Or foresight, for that matter," she added before he could speak. "I know you well, Mostin."
"You've made your point," Mostin grumbled.
"The Viridity unfolds. The ludjas bind worlds together, but where will the remaining scions sprout? Tree is silent in this; all watch with anticipation. You should not berate yourself for abandoning the race for Azzagrat; you acted in good faith."
"I blame only Tozinak's stupidity," Mostin waved his appendage dismissively. "And his inappropriate use of oological metaphor when attempting to communicate. Nehael. What of the Aeon?"
"It is beyond my scrutiny," Nehael said. "I can offer you no advice. But I would ask you to reconsider your original plan."
Mostin cocked his head.
"The gates in Azzagrat, Mostin. You could still close them."
Mostin scowled. "Why? There is no longer any purpose."
"One single selfless act? A Flame Precedes the Aeon. What does it do, Mostin?"
"Ask your friend. He scribed it."
"My memory is poor," Teppu admitted. "You are better informed than I."
"It uncorks the Urn," Mostin explained. "In a manner of speaking. But the opportunity is passed. Did Jovol lay some kind of geas on Tozinak?"
Teppu sighed. "It is possible. He may also have been manipulated by another agent. I suspect that frustration with the imperfect game of prescience led to my abandoning it; I would urge you to do the same."
"I think not," Mostin smiled.
Nehael closed her eyes and exhaled.
Mostin condescended to give an inquiring look.
"Scions. An Oak and an Elm, north of Galda. Direct the Wyrish retreat towards them. And in response to your original question, yes."
"Reflexive is not pro-active."
"We have different methods," Nehael whispered. "Didn't you know? You may remain in Nizkur for now; I grant permission. Please refrain from disruptive activities."
"Permission?"
"Necessarily, when at war, a wise dictator invokes martial law," Nehael said drily.
"I also understand that you have seduced a clutch of Seraphim?"
Ortwine raised an eyebrow.
"News travels fast," Teppu sighed. "Or your sources are remarkably well-informed. And I have not even spoken with them. Tree has already dispatched them on various errands."
"The nature of which you are inclined to reveal?" The Alienist asked.
"If I knew what they were, I might."
Abruptly, the hairs on Ortwine's neck stood on end. Mostin's eyes bulged. A crescendo of magical energy which became almost deafening.
A pulse of tremendous power emanated from Tree. Dimension waxed sharp or retreated. A cascade of fortifying waves. Impregnability. Afterwards, silence. Somehow, the matrix possessed a pattern familiar to Mostin.
"What just happened?" Ortwine asked.
"NonGreen forms of interplanar travel have been discontinued," Teppu clapped.
"What?" Mostin's jaw dropped.
"Where?" Ortwine asked.
"Just this world," Nehael smiled. "Dreamers are unaffected."
"I do not dream," Mostin spoke the word as though it were an unsavory habit. "Is this a permanent imposition?"
"I would rather see it as a means to end other, temporary, impositions," Nwm grinned broadly.
Mostin flailed. "Well, you would. Your tree just dimensionally locked the whole damn planet. And what about my tower? What am I going to do now?"
"I recommend tree stride," Nwm said earnestly.
Mostin glared at Nehael. "And closing the gates? Recovering the Urn? How do you suggest I accomplish this?"
"Nwm. Hlioth. Or you could petition Cherry directly. Be careful – Cherry is a tricky one. And my instinct is that this is a temporary measure, if that is any consolation."
"If temporary means 'one billion years' then no, not particularly," the Alienist glared. "And exempting dreamers leaves a lot of big holes."
"Dream will be monitored," Nehael smiled.
The Seraphim, Mostin knew.
"A number of myriads have also joined them," Nehael caught the thought.
"The other scions?" Ortwine peered at her. "Are they all…sprouting? Do you know where they are?"
"Not all," Nehael shook her head. "Some will remain hidden."
"Restricting traffic is wise," Ortwine nodded. "How do I get to Afqithan?"
"I believe previous portals will remain open," Nwm answered. "You should have asked me where they were earlier."
"Evidently," Ortwine raised an eyebrow.
"This is intolerable," Mostin spat. "I will find a way to circumvent this."
"No, Mostin, you will not," Nehael regarded him gravely. "For a little while, be patient. There are things specifically excluded or trapped here now against their will which dwarf you in significance. Perhaps it is better that you are restrained, or at least monitored."
"I?" He was incredulous.
"Mostin," she drew close. All notion of sophistry had vanished from her demeanour; she spoke into the core of his being. "Believe me when I say that I honour you and love you, Mostin, because such is my nature; but you must recognize that what you are – how you see and what you do – these things are anathema to me. You possess a potential for horror which disturbs me.
"And this," Nehael smiled as a clump of moss and sod grew in her hand. "This is Mine, Mostin. All of it. You are a guest. Don't forget it."
"Currently, I am a prisoner," Mostin seethed.
"If you wish egress, petition one who can transport you; I will do it if you request. I will take you outside – but not Outside. You will need to negotiate at a Green concursion if you wish to return inside. Unless you wish to dream."
"Bah!" Mostin grunted. "And what is a 'concursion' supposed to be?"
"A node. Interface. Gate."
"And how might I recognize these?"
"The scions, Mostin," Nehael smiled wrily. "Or in some cases, the ludjas themselves."
"I need to appeal to trees to be allowed to go about my normal business? Many of which, by your own admission, 'will remain hidden?'"
"Essentially, yes. Or one of we five."
Mostin looked around. Nehael. Teppu. Hlioth. Nwm. Mesikammi.
Ah. Those five.
"Where are the ludjas themselves?" the Alienist demanded. "Assuming that you can be at least that forthcoming."
"Here in Nizkur: Oak, Elm and Ash. Others in the Beatitudes, Throile, Azzagrat. On Avernus; in Faerie. In Mulhuk. In the Hidden Realm. Five have yet to manifest themselves…"
"Hidden Realm?"
"I can show you," Mesikammi offered.
"Your reality?" Mostin groaned. "You're as mad as I am. And what is this talk of Trees in Hell?"
"Some equilibria must be forced," Nehael smiled.
**
They gathered at Mostin's manse in the Forest of Nizkur; the building had acquired an eccentric turret of modest proportions, oddly at ease with the prevailing aesthetic and comfortable in the sylvan surroundings. The Infernal Tower's now-inaccessible extradimensional interior – like that of much of the manse itself – meant that Mostin had a much reduced living space. Nwm, and a number of goddesses, saints and wizards crowded around the Alienist's kitchen table.
Mostin had considered the significance of the Inertia of the Spheres – as he had scathingly termed Tree's reordering of planar reality – and determined that it was, in fact, utterly beyond his ability to bypass. He sighed, handing Nwm a piece of paper with many numbers and symbols scrawled upon it. It meant nothing to the Preceptor, whose magic was instinctive; the Alienist explained with forced patience.
"Half of the flamines have been consumed: tasty morsels, I'm sure. Many reservoirs are drained. The Pall of Dhatri is out of reach, and will likely remain so in any case. You can banish the Eater of Light; if you do, then you can say good-bye to those whom it ate. If you were to destroy it, they would be liberated: this would be preferable. Slay it. It'll hurt, but you've got enough juice at a stretch. Let me configure the spell, as I am otherwise now at a loose end." More than a hint of bitterness was present in Mostin's voice.
Nwm nodded.
Ortwine smiled coolly, and turned to Nwm. "I have a question. Did you really need to kill the Sela, or were you just making a point?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"I'm glad that you're carefully considering the ramifications of your actions," Mostin said acidly. "It's not like you've caused any problems so far."
"I approve of Tree's interdiction," Tahl spoke wearily. "The progress of Shvar Choryati has been slowed drastically. All enemy movements must also now occur conventionally."
Mulissu nodded. "I no longer need to invest more than half of my energy simply to maintain Fumaril's defense. We are in a better position than we were twelve hours ago."
"And elementals are considered sufficiently 'Green' to pass muster," Mostin complained.
"And I am tired of your incessant whining," Mulissu sighed. "Do you have nothing useful to contribute?"
"No," Mostin replied, staring at Nwm. "But I have a good many questions. What is Gihaahia's role in this? Why did you wake up with her looming over you?"
"I don't know that she has one," Nwm answered. "Her mandate is … not incompatible … with the exclusion. Perhaps Nehael has spoken with her."
"The succubus in her is exerting its charms," Ortwine said approvingly. "You can't keep a good demon down. She'll snare them all."
"Not all."
Ortwine shrugged. "Tree is acquiring an exciting variety of thralls. I believe I chose the right side."
"I have no doubt that you'll be on the winning side," Nwm remarked drily. "As to information which I possess to which you are not privy – yes, in a manner of speaking. Insofar as that nothing which has happened surprises me, although I wouldn't exactly say I've anticipated anything, either."
Tahl stood abruptly. "The Ahma has returned. He is at Galda, ordering the defense.
"Splendid. Assemble the minions," Ortwine waved her hand.
"And none of the other Great Wyrish Wizards have anything to contribute?" Mostin inquired.
"Not especially," Daunton said vaguely. "Do you think I should keep the beard?"
"Your hospitality is diminished," Waide grumbled. "Where are your fruit teas gone? And those little cakes? Your simulacrum is less attentive to replenishing your pantry than Orolde; she spends the day reclining, reading your insane scrawl."
Mostin had to agree. "I need a new apprentice."
"I have gnomes," Ortwine suggested.
Mostin's head bobbed. Gnomes were agreeable enough.
**
**
Shomei the Infernal exited the trance and pondered. It was as Ugales had described: two zones within Qematiel's range, in close proximity to one another, were inscrutable. None save the Adversary might have screened areas of such size from her spell, yet Shomei doubted it was his doing. She determined to investigate the first node: she suspected it was a Power, the presence of which could only be inferred obliquely.
Qematiel – an atavistic hellfire wyrm – abode within the realm of Mahazael Amaimon, King of the Fourth Quarter. An infernal monarch whose exact mandate – other than the reprobation of delinquent devils and distinguished wicked mortals – was hidden to all save the Nameless Fiend, Amaimon was unguessably powerful. He removed himself from Hell's routine workings altogether, and concerned himself with philosophical struggles on a more rarefied level.
Shomei herself had enjoyed the arch-fiend's hospitality for a brief while, after her abduction by the Akesoli in Afqithan. The outcasts and detritus of a hundred unnamed hells and abysms found their way to his demesnes, and were tolerated or punished for unknown reasons; Wyre's Enforcer had made her abode nearby, until she had been plucked to serve as the Claviger's slave.
Shomei armed herself with magic and opened a gate; she passed through into a blasted defile. Lightning wracked the dark skies. Descending carefully, she crossed poisonous rills and found herself in a wide, flat-bottomed canyon. A great thicket – an untended hazel coppice of willful aspect – filled much of it. It murmured power to her; Shomei paused suspiciously, unsure if it was a deific illusion or an empty lure set as some test.
Without warning, fire overhwelmed her and a great claw pushed her a hundred yards through the air, pinning her to the wall of the ravine. A vast, horned head reared before her; ancient draconic eyes – full of wisdom and malice – regarded her briefly, absorbing a thousand details in a glance. They rested on the sigils which the Infernalist bore upon her forehead.
"An Exempt." Qematiel snorted. "I am still inclined to break your body; the Tree recognizes you. It would have otherwise."
Shomei managed to scowl even as she writhed in pain. A ludja? Here? By whose permission?
Tree needs no permissions, Hazel whispered into her mind.
But which was the other? The second un-scryable area?
A brief, unendurable pain as barbs seemed to sink into Shomei's mind: evidently the other ludja was also fully aware of her thoughts. There was the looming threat of an execration so powerful that it would extinguish her.
Holly, she knew. She breathed deeply, mustered her will, and stared straight into Qematiel's eyes.
"What passes here?" Shomei the Infernal asked. The question was possessed of terrific power.
Qematiel regarded her quizzically; none before had ever been audacious enough to attempt to dominate her. It was a fair effort.
"You amuse me. I am not sure. But my role in it – after an eternity of preparation – is not the one I had anticipated."
"And the I?"
"It has migrated," the Wyrm replied. "As will I. Hell is receding."
**
In a dark abysm, Soneillon reflected on her circumstances. Events had not transpired as she might have preferred.
Atop her palace – a vast ziggurat which rose a mile into the skies above dense jungle – a tree had sprouted in a garden, sinking roots through marble and adamant, and fruiting in an instant: an event which coincided exactly with the return of the demoness – bearing Pharamne's Urn – from the wreck of Zelatar. It bore huge, ripe cherries which exuded an irresisitible odor.
The demoness had warded herself in a heartbeat and retreated to a remote fastness, even as the tree had reached out to her mind and urged her to descend. She felt its consciousness pursue her, and she transported herself again. And again. She could not elude it.
Soneillon cursed, fled deep into a chthonic dream - a delirium of unbeing - and brooded.
**
