Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 1 – A Mission for the Dead

The trip inside the ancient city of Ventaka was educational to say the least.

“I never thought I’d see it again,” said Sebastian, looking around in wonder. The city, its architecture long considered one of the wonders of Onara, had stood for over two millennia. But it was beginning to show its age.

“There are cracks in the dome,” said Beldin. He sniffed the air. “There’s dust floating about. It’s a bad sign.”

“De dwarf speaks true,” said Garan. “De city infrastructure has suffered a major collapse. Sealed for over a year, since de Swords of Nier attempted to conquer it, Ventaka also has all de problems of a city under siege.”

“You guys still haven’t tossed those nuts out?” Kham dusted himself off.

Helac shook his head. “Food is scarce, and ve have no large animals vidin de city walls. Even de rats are laying low.”

As they toured the city, Kham could see that the living citizens hardly looked better than the dead ones. Everywhere, emaciated and sunken-eyed forms shuffled about on their daily routine. It was hard to tell if some were alive or not.

“Does it matter?” asked Vlad. “Isn’t everyone in Canceri dead anyway?”

Sebastian shot the Milandisian a disapproving glare, but Vlad didn’t pick up on it.

Garan smiled painfully. “If de living populace is not somehow preserved, dere is no future for de dead here.”

“What about water?” asked Kham. “Or wine?”

“Vater, at least, is not an immediate issue,” said Helac. “De city has a large cistern and many deeply cut vells under de dome.”

They paused at the entrance to cavernous catacombs, filled with winding steps that led down into darkness.

“And dat is vhy ve have brought you here,” said Garan. “Ve need your help.”

Kham fingered the emerald pin on his jacket. “I owe you Helac. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“If I can help my brothers from the grip of the Erdukeen,” said Sebastian, “I will do all that I can.”

“Thank you,” said Garan. “Ve need someone to find Master Architect Sagrivan. Only he can repair de dome.”

Beldin and Vlad seemed dubious.

“What about Ffashethh?” asked Vlad.

“De portal is unstable,” replied Garan. “But Sagrivan may be able to fix it.”

“I’ll help,” said Beldin. “A structure such as this should not be allowed to fall.”

Everyone turned to look at Vlad. He sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll help.”

“Good. Ve must leave immediately. Follow me, please.”

Helac led them down into the maze of catacombs and caves under the city.

 

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 2 – Something Foul in the State of Canceri

Helac led them to the trade road known as the Red March. It led from Nishanpur south and east into the Hinterlands.

“Do we even know where Sagrivan is?” asked Vlad.

“According to Helac,” replied Kham, “he was working on the Red March.”

“So he’s part of a slave gang? Are we even sure he’s in Canceri anymore?”

Sebastian shrugged. “In Canceri, all roads lead to Nishanpur. If we can’t find him there, at least we should find someone who knows where to find him.”

“What about Ilmarė?” asked Vlad.

“I sent word via sending,” said Sebastian. “It will take weeks before she is able to meet us. The orcs of the Bloody Vengeance are still searching for Captain Scarbelly. We won’t see them for awhile.”

Mollified, Vlad finally stopped asking questions.

The winter days wore on them as they trudged along the road back to Nishanpur. After days of empty plains and several hours after passing a row of tottering and unoccupied crucifixes, they finally sighted the tilled fields that marked the populated outlying areas of the great city.

“Something doesn’t seem right,” said Sebastian.

“You mean the fact that your homeland is a real downer?” Kham sniffed.

The late afternoon sun shone on untended crops. Carrion birds circled around one field. As they passed by, they could see swarms of flies surrounding several large dark lumps among the meager rows of grain. They stopped to investigate.

“Althares!” Kham put the back of one gloved hand to his nose.

A horrible stench rose around putrid, decomposed bodies. Some of the bodies were emaciated; others bloated and almost ready to burst open. All were covered with dark splotches and ugly, seeping lesions.

“This is not the work of a predator,” said Beldin. “Not even a massacre. It looks more like…”

“A plague.” Sebastian looked dispassionately down upon the dead bodies. “This was an overseer and a slave work crew. From the looks of it, the slaves were Cancerese and the overseer from the Hinterlands.”

“The Sorcerer-King is making good on his promise,” said Vlad.

They said nothing else as they moved on. But everyone walked a little further from Sebastian that day.

 

[Azgulor]

Talien,

I'm finally caught up to Chapter 35. Great story hour!! It continues to be one of my all-time favorites!

Azgulor

 

[talien]

Thanks Azgulor! It's great to hear that people read this thing.

 

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 3 – Check Your Bags at the Gates

They could finally see the walls of Nishanpur rising in the distance. Around the outside of the walls sprawled what could practically be called a city in itself. Inns lined the roads and the gates were crowded with people entering and leaving. Tents and shanties sprang up in the areas between buildings like mushrooms. There were posting along the road in several languages.

“Your hometown is creeping me out,” said Kham. “What’s with all the not talking?”

The closer they got to the city, the more the silence became noticeable. Though the streets were busy and shops were full, the area was surprisingly quiet.

“It has been many years since I’ve been here,” said Sebastian. “The Nierites must have destroyed the Nerothian spirit.”

Everyone was huddled together, whispering to each other. Some glanced over at them, then turned back to their conversation to whisper some more. The whispers all blended together to form an eerie hum that hung in the air.

They joined a long line of whispering travelers seeking entry into the city proper. They ended up waiting a long while on line, watching others get searched by a group of soldiers of the Swords of Nier.

Some crossed to a group of Sarishan priest standing opposite to have a spell cast upon them. It left a glowing red mark on the recipient’s forehead. So marked, the visitors then rejoined the line.

“What is that?” asked Vlad.

“The Mark of Sarish.” Sebastian frowned. “I’ve only heard rumors.”

Kham guffawed. “I’m not getting a mark on my head so they can track me.”

Each of the priests had the same glowing red mark on their brow, though the soldiers did not.

“Quite the contrary,” whispered Sebastian. “It’s for your protection, not theirs. If anyone attacks you, it summons the Vorlerath.”

Vlad leaned in to join the conversation. “The who?”

“The Vorlerath,” said Sebastian. “You don’t want to meet one.”

“Any other little quirks about your hometown that we should know about?” asked Kham.

As it became his turn, the Swords of Nier looked over each of them. One of the soldiers wore a bearskin cloak over his armor. He scanned Kham and gave him a business-like pat down.

Kham opened his overcoat to oblige the soldier. Pistols dangled from two bandoliers strung across his chest.

The guard’s eyes widened. “You’d better be a…”

Kham lowered his lenses to look the man in the eye. His white, pupiless eyes clearly indicated that Kham was both a val and a psionically gifted one at that.

“Move along.”

Vlad came next. The guard drew Grungronazharr and examined it closely. “Nice craftsmanship. Too bad it’s not made of Sarishan steel.” He turned away.

Vlad drew back one fist to punch the man in the face, but Sebastian’s hand on his shoulder gave him pause.

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Sebastian held out a jingling purse. “You seemed to have missed this when patting me down.”

The guard turned back. “It’s a good thing I searched you thoroughly,” he said. He snapped Vlad’s blade back in its sheath and handed it to him. “Next time, remember: if it’s not Sarishan steel it’s not allowed in. I’ll remember you, and next time I won’t be so nice.”

Once they were through the gates, Sebastian took a deep breath. “Well, that’s one new law that the Nierites instituted.” He looked pointedly at Vlad. “We’ll have to keep our steel concealed.”

Vlad nodded back. “Oh don’t worry. I’ll only draw my blade when I intend to kill someone.”

Shaking his head, Sebastian headed for the Trade Quarter.

 

[talien]

On the Read March: Part 4 – A Rat in Hand

A smiling merchant approached Kham, bearing a few robes of shimmering silk from a nearby booth.

“So,” he whispered conspiratorially, “you are interested in architecture?”

“How did you guess?” said Kham with a smirk.

The merchant showed off the silk in the sunlight. “I know that Sagrivan is not all that he used to be. He is no longer the Master Architect of Canceri. Only someone who has been away quite awhile would call him that.” He waved Kham towards his booth.

“We should get some new clothes.” Sebastian looked pointedly at Beldin. “We need to blend better.”

Beldin crossed his arms. “I’m not changing my clothes in this place. I’m a dwarf, and they’ll just have to deal with that.”

“Don’t look at me.” Kham lowered his lenses to display his pupiless eyes. “I already have my own costume.”

The merchant pointed out the fine stitching along the edges of a cloak. “I do not know where Sagrivan is, but I know who knows.” He showed several other finely made garments.

“Yes,” said Sebastian. “Those will do nicely.” They exchanged coins.

“You should inquire at the House of Stone on the Street of Green Tiles,” quipped the merchant. “They have a fine appreciation there for all things most durable and lasting.” He refolded a fine cloak and handed it over to Sebastian.

 

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 5 – The House of Stone

Dressed in their new Cancerese clothing, they slowly made their way through the bustling and crowded streets of the Trade Quarter, heading for that most posh of neighborhoods: the Street of Green Tiles.

“The guildmaster of the Stonecutter’s Guild is Bashaa Karush,” Sebastian said over his shoulder to his companions. “If anyone knows about where Sagrvian is, Bashaa would.”

Traffic thinned as they neared their goal. Small contingents of private guards, many wearing the clean cut garb of local Cancerese Nierites, stood watch in front of elaborate gates.

“Why do they call it the Street of Green Tiles?” asked Vlad.

“Look down,” said Beldin.

The street lived up to its name: bright green tiles covered the roadway itself and in front of the gates to the various houses, mosaics depicted the major businesses or house crests of those that dwelled within.

“Oh.”

“No horses or carts are permitted here,” said Sebastian. “Their rough hooves would damage the lovely tile.” Hitching posts on various side streets provided a place to lave mounts. Bright-eyed children promised to watch over animals, for only a few asher.

The House of Stone itself needed no markers. The largest and most heavily decorated building on the street, it towered above all others. The gargoyles on its roof cast long shadows across the roadway. An elaborate fountain stood before the entrance. More gargoyles shot tall sprays of clear water in the sky, creating a cool mist.

“What’s with the gargoyles everywhere?” asked Kham.

“It’s a tradition for a mason at the end of their apprenticeship to create a gargoyle as tribute to Sarish,” said Beldin.

A majordomo met them at the door.

“What is your business at the House of Stone?” he asked imperiously.

“We are here about Master Architect Sagrivan,” said Sebastian.

The majordomo immediately escorted them to a lavish foyer in the House of Stone. Glasses of warm tea were served.

The windows were of multicolored glass, rare and expensive. They cast red and purple shadows along the marble floor.

Eventually, the majordomo returned and bowed low. “Master Bashaa will see you now.”

He showed them through a thick door covered in carving, down a carpeted hall, into a lushly appointed office.

A tall, broad-shouldered man sat behind an ebony desk. He ran slightly to fat, wearing rich robes with the markings of a Guildmaster. His fingers were adorned with several large rings and his beard and hair were carefully arranged in neat braids, each capped with gold. He sat idly stroking a purring, longhaired gray cat in his lap. On his desk were a neat stack of papers and a large sphere of perfect crystal in a holder that resembled three large gargoyles, holding the ball in their claws. He gestured at the seats in front of him. The majordomo bowed and retreated.

“So, you have some business to discuss with me? What can the Master of the House of Stone do for you this day?”

“We seek Master Architect Sagrivan,” said Sebastian.

“Hmm. And for what purpose?”

Sebastian looked left and right. “To repair the cracked dome of Ventaka.”

“Ah, yes. Well, a year ago, when the Swords of Nier took over, all the work crews on the Red March were sent back into the city.” Bashaa’s lip curled in a sneer. “The Master Architect of Canceri was deemed of an unfit lineage to hold such a title and was demoted to the status of stonecutter. Work crews were reassigned.”

“Reassigned?” asked Vlad. “You mean they made the master architect a slave?”

Bashaa nodded. “The city has suffered a lapse in craftsmanship since, as many of the skilled foremen are no longer overseeing work.”

“And what became of Sagrivan?” asked Sebastian.

“Nageel Sagrivan was, ironically, sent back out onto the Red March, though his work detail is now under the command of an Erdukeen overseer. His crew is doing repair work on the road just a short ways south of Nishanpur.”

“A travesty.” Beldin stroked his beard. “His work is unparalleled, for a human. These Nierites are truly barbarians.”

“His genius is lost on them there. If you say you have a task that needs his skill…where did you say you wanted to take him again? Just in case I have need of him, you understand.”

“Ventaka,” said Sebastian.

Bashaa nodded again. He sat very still for a moment, deep in thought. Then he jolted into action, rifling through a drawer.

“I am of course a faithful citizen of Nishanpur and would never do anything to oppose the Nierites.” He retrieved a piece of paper and, wetting a quill with his tongue, dipped it in some ink and began to write on it. “Sagrivan is a Cancerese man, of Nerothian descent, nearing sixty years of age, and balding. His crew is stationed about twenty miles south of the city.”

He slid something across to Sebastian. The dark-kin arched an eyebrow. “What’s this?” He picked up the document and opened it.

“You might want to provide them this writ requesting a reassignment.” A slow smile crept over Bashaa’s face. “Please give the Erdukeen my regards.”

Sebastian smiled back. “We most certainly will.”

 

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 6 – Follow the Red Brick Road

After a time on the road leading south from Nishanpur, the afternoon sun began to melt away the snow into a noisome gray slush. The ground around the road seemed to be getting somewhat drier. Laborers worked the fields, and a cattle driver brought his animals toward the city to market. There were fewer shanties than by the Trade Gate.

Unlike the Cold Road, the Red March was well paved, the blocks forming a smooth passage away from the city. Shallow ruts formed a track that almost made steering carts unnecessary. In a few places, weeds tore at the edges of the roadbed.

A day later, they were out on the march proper. Farmland stretched around them, less boggy but also less fertile.

“The crops are doing poorly,” said Vlad.

Near evening, they heard the sound of picks and shovels. A work crew was visible in the distance.

“Stay here,” whispered Sebastian. “Vlad and I will deal with this.”

Attired like Cancerese citizens, they approached the half-dozen guards.

A Niertie foreman with the features of a Takomir and a long braided beard appraised them. “Yeah?”

“Ve’re here for de Master Architect—” Sebastian affected a Canceri accent.

“Hah!” he turned to his work crew and shouted in the failing light, “Hey, you scum! Any of you here a Master Architect?” The scorn dripped from his voice.

Several of the workers cringed at the shout, but no one turned to respond.

“I guess we don’t have any Master Architects here.”

“Master Architect Sagrivan,” repeated Sebastian.

“I don’t recognize the name,” said the foreman.

“I tink you do. Nageel Sagrivan.”

The foreman sneered at Sebastian. “What if he is here? Even if I had him, why should I give him to you?”

Sebastian reached into the folds of his robes and produced the writ. “I recommend dat you comply or I vill have you reported.”

The man stepped forward to stare Sebastian in the eye. “Are you threatening me?”

Vlad moved to intercept but the dark-kin put one gloved hand out. He never let his gaze waiver from the foreman. “Vhy yes, yes I am. I tink your captain vill be very interested as to vhy ve veren’t able to procure dis specialist. I’m sorry, I don’t believe you introduced yourself. Vhat’s your name?”

The foreman blanched. He turned away to point at a balding man. “You!”

Nageel Sagrivan perked his head up, then walked over to them. “Yes, master?”

He shoved Sagrvian by the shoulder. “Get going!” When Sebastian and Vlad turned away, he added. “I better not see you again!” It may have been directed at Sebastian, but left intentionally vague just in case the dark-kin took it personally.

 

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 7 – A Dream of a Lifetime

As they made they way back north from the workmen’s camp, Sagrivan seemed anxious. He looked Sebastian over many times from beneath his graying eyebrows. Finally, he gained enough courage to look at Sebastian squarely and speak.

“Vhere am I to be going?” he asked. “Have I been reassigned to other vork?”

“Ventaka,” said Sebastian. “We have need of your talents.”

“Ventaka!” Sagrivan gasped and the words came out softly with the sound of awe. “De ancient citadel. I always dreamed of working dere. I thought I vould never see it. But…I thought it vas sealed?”

Beldin nodded. “It’s cracked. We need you to repair it.”

Sagrivan was struck speechless. His eyes became unfocused as he contemplated the vastness and complexity of the task ahead of him. “I am…honored.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kham waved him off. “Do you need anything else? Tools or anything?”

“Yes,” said Sagrivan. “I must return to de House of Stone in Nishanpur. I vill need to acquire de help of some of my apprentices, and only dere can I discover vhere dey are stationed. Please, let us be swift.”

“Oh sure, now you’re in a big rush,” muttered Kham.

 

[talien]

On the Red March: Part 8 – An Unraveling Web

Fortunately, returning to Nishanpur wasn’t a problem. Sebastian, carefully disarmed of any non-Sarishan weapons, entered with Sagrivan and accompanied him to the House of Stone. Sagrivan had to round his apprentices up from whatever work crews they were on, a time-consuming task.

“Is this them?” asked Kham. “They look a little scrawny.” The work crew was a motley lot.

“We had to make do,” said Sagrivan. “I was not able to locate all my apprentices, but what we lack in skill we can make up in manpower.”

With charges in tow, the trip back to Ventaka proved nerve-wracking. Sagrivan wanted to hear all about Ventaka.

“What condition is the dome in?”

“It’s not good,” said Beldin. “There’s dust in the air. It’s flaking.”

“All the time?”

“Constantly,” said the dwarf.

“How tall is the dome?”

“Tall,” said Sebastian. “I have no idea how tall, I haven’t had the chance to measure it.”

“How large?”

“Isn’t that the same question as how tall?” snapped Vlad. “Maybe we should worry more about the Nierite patrols.”

The workmen were nervous. Under the questioning of Sagrivan, they responded inadequately. Sagrivan began lessons in advanced architecture for some of his worst crewmen.

“Great, we’ve got a bunch of winners here,” said Kham. “What’s your problem with Canceri, Vlad? You seem to like the place even less than I do.”

Vlad paused. “You know about the Nierites?”

“You mean how they got here? Something about Leonydas val’Virdan, Sword of the Heavens, getting out of prison. He sacked Nishanpur, raised an army from Erduk, and then tried to sack Ventaka. You were there when we stopped them.”

Vlad shook his head. “After that.”

“After that,” added Sebastian, “the Sword of the Heavens moved his army south and west.” He turned to look at Vlad. “Towards Milandir.”

Vlad nodded. “I lost good men fighting Nierites. I feel like we should be out fighting them instead of skulking around here like thieves.”

“There’s more than one way to win a war,” said Sebastian.

It was with relief that at last the great mound of earth in the distance appeared that marked the dome of Ventaka. Unexpectedly, the smoke of a campfire rose in front of it.

Sebastian and Kham exchanged worried looks. Then Kham drew his pistols.

“Well, maybe Garan rolled out the welcome party.”

As they approached, the campfire turned out not to be enemies at all, but rather Garan val’Mehan, once again outside the city.

“Vell, it took you long enough,” said Garan. “Did you bring Sagrivan?”

“Garan, aren’t you on the wrong side of the dome?” asked Sebastian.

Kham holstered his pistols

“Ah, I see dat you have,” said Garan. “Good. Ve can get to vork now.”

Sagrivan approached Garan. “Yes, I am Master Architect Sagrivan. I am honored to be chosen to repair the great dome…”

“Repair it?!” Garan started laughing. “Ve can’t repair it. Vervain threw us out! He von’t commit to de actions necessary. He just vants to hide. I don’t vant you to repair it! I vant you to tear it down!”

“WHAT?!” Sagrivan paled, then turned bright red. “I will not!” He turned to Sebastian. “You lied to me! You brought me here under false pretenses. I should know better by now than to trust anyone who has signed a contract! Well, find yourself another architect, because I won’t do it!”

“Whoa, whoa.” Kham put up his palms. “Let’s everyone calm down. We didn’t deceive you Sagrivan, we’re here to repair the dome.”

“What’s all this about Vervain not committing to necessary actions?” asked Sebastian, hands on hips.

Garan let out an exasperated sigh. “I tried to convince de Akali to commit his undead forces to de fight against de Swords of Nier. He refused. Vervain said dat he had already set his own plan in motion.”

Kham rubbed his forehead. “And then you said…”

“And den I accused him of being a coward.”

“I’m amazed you’re not dead,” said Beldin.

“He threw me out!” shouted Garan. “How dare he!”

Sagrivan backed up towards his workmen, fuming. Standing outside the walls of the city, it was apparent that combat was inevitable. Garan was stubborn, the Ventakans uncaring. The workmen reached into their packs…

“Now wait a minute…” began Sebastian.

Instead of drawing tools, the workmen drew weapons. They tore off their simple smocks, revealing armor underneath.

“I don’t suppose anybody checked to see if these guys were actually workmen?” shouted Kham as he drew his pistols once more.