[Exalted 2e] Chosen of the Second Age

[Delemental]

“Are you trying to tell me MY RULES?”

Kaliel’s voice roared down the hallway, penetrating the thick door of the cell where he had been interrogating merchants all morning. The fierce glow of his anima radiated through the cracks and seams in the door, throwing sharp daggers of golden light into the corridor beyond. The other merchants, sitting on benches against the wall at the far end of the corridor, looked at each other nervously. The soldiers guarding them glared impassively as there was a sudden loud crashing noise, accented by the sound of shattering wood and snapping bone.

Zun Raito, the merchant who was currently in the cell with Lord Kaliel, was well known as a conniver who liked to twist the wording of laws and contracts to his benefit. He was respected, if not well liked, but as the crashing noises ended and were replaced by ominous silence, the other merchants suspected he may have tried to push his machinations a little too far.

The door opened, and Kaliel stepped out, mopping blood off his white jade gauntlets. Spatters of blood dotted his armor everywhere. “Send in the next one, Corporal Tapas,” he commanded.

At that moment, Luc ran into the hallway and came up to Kaliel. He peeked into the room behind the Dawn, and went pale.

“Um, Lord Kaliel, sir? Zanka would like to speak to you. She says it’s important.”

Kaliel looked down at Luc for a moment. “Very well. Corporal, bring the next merchant into the interrogation cell and have them wait inside until I return.”

“Yes, sir. Should I have someone sent up to attend to Zun Raito?”

“Did you hear me say anything about Zun Raito, Tapas?”

“No, sir.”

Kaliel walked with Luc back to the town hall. On the way, he caught sight of the Zenith, High Bright Sun, who was having a quiet but impassioned conversation with one of the community’s leading figures. Kaliel had been receiving reports on the strange monk’s activities; rather than proselytizing to the public about the Unconquered Sun, as might have been expected, he had instead been having conversations with the priests and community leaders of Chrysanthemum, chiding them for their failure to attend to the spiritual needs of the people and allowing them to falter in their faith. It would remain to be seen if this approach bore fruit.

They arrived at the town hall, and descended into the basement where the records were stored. Zanka had been set up with a desk near the window, with stacks of documents to either side of her. As they approached, Kaliel noticed that it was much warmer than he expected, and noted that a wood stove in the corner had been stoked, and looked as though it had been burning that way for hours. He was about to question why Zanka would do this when he knew her preference for cooler temperatures, but then he noticed that the young Eclipse had shed several layers of clothing while working, and after noting the direction of Luc’s gaze, he came to suspect that Zanka was not the one who had built up the fire.

“Kaliel, good,” Zanka said. “Have you learned anything from the merchants?”

“Only that several of them have been making clandestine deals with the Guild while I was away,” Kaliel growled. “I have had to remind them firmly that the Guild is not permitted to do business in Chrysanthemum.”

Zanka noticed the spots of dried blood on Kaliel’s armor. “I can see that. Well, I have something else to show you.” She handed him a few sheets of paper. Kaliel scanned them, but could make no sense of it; the letters seemed jumbled together randomly.

“It is a cipher,” Zanka said. “I have spent the past several hours deciphering it. Luc found these in the offices of one of the merchants you detained last night.”

“What does it say?” Kaliel asked.

“It is a message to the members of a group called ‘The Eternal Circle’,” Zanka said. “It calls for the members of the Circle to meet at a certain time and place, and says that ‘the entrance to the temple will be revealed at that time’. Each of these letters say almost the same thing; only the location of the meeting point varies.”

“When and where?”

“Tonight, in the northwestern part of the city. It appears that they meet every two weeks or so.”

Just then, Rutendo walked down the stairs.

“I thought you were going out to find Brusk,” Kaliel said.

“I was. But I came to tell you that there is a gift waiting for you in your offices, Kaliel. I think you will like it – it is sergeant-shaped.”

Kaliel thought for a moment, then chuckled. “He rode perimeter around the city.”

Soon they were all together in Kaliel’s offices, and Brusk was being apprised of the situation and the information they had about the Eternal Circle. Rutendo had managed to bring Brusk back into the city without drawing attention, so few knew he had returned.

“This could be our chance to end this threat,” Kaliel said. “I will allow the merchants to return home. They will almost certainly go to this meeting of the Eternal Circle, and once there we can move in and capture them all.”

“We could use someone on the inside,” Brusk said. “The last time I checked, there were no secret temples in that part of the city. Getting in and out could be a problem.”

“I’ll do it,” Luc said. “I can take the ring off that guy you crushed. Nobody in this town really knows me.”

“I suggest you return to the home of that merchant you burgled,” Brusk said. “Check his closets carefully. Cultists and secret societies rarely wear their everyday clothing to these kind of meetings.”

“Luc,” Rutendo asked, “can you acquire another ring?”

“Sure,” Luc said. “I saw a few people wearing one around town, shouldn’t be too hard for someone to ‘lose’ one.”

“Then I can go with you,” the Fire Aspect said. “In case there are problems.”

Luc left in order to locate the items they would need. Kaliel, in the meanwhile, had returned to the interrogation room and told his soldiers to escort the merchants home, though he left a guard on each one for the remainder of the day. He also removed the black iron ring from Zun Raito’s hand before his body was hauled away. Kaliel noted that the inside of the band was engraved with interlocking skulls.

“Brusk,” he said, once he had returned and was showing the ring to his sergeant, “what happened?”

“I knew something was wrong from the first set of your ‘orders’ we received,” Brusk said. “You hate paperwork. I cannot imagine you wanting to make more of it. But though I had my suspicions, the signature and seal were close enough to perfect that I had doubts, and I could not risk simply disobeying. By the time my suspicions became strong enough to speak out, I had been assigned to scout for the Bull of the North.”

“Did you run into Blizzard Topples the Oak while you were out there?” Kaliel asked. “I have been curious if any of this has affected him.”

“We have not heard from him in weeks,” Brusk said. “But he rarely speaks to anyone but you, so this is nothing unusual.”

“I will go and speak to him after we expose this cult tonight,” Kaliel said. “For now, we have plans to make.”

۞​

Darkness fell, and from all throughout the city of Chrysanthemum, men and women in black-cowled robes began to gather in the night.

Silently they waited, gathered in groups in four different locations around a small storage building. As the moon rose in the sky and crossed into the constellation of the Mask, sections of cobblestones suddenly dropped down into the earth, forming crude stairs leading down into the darkness. The robed figures began to descend the stairs, not noticing in their haste that their numbers had grow by two.

Nearby, from their places of hiding, Kaliel and his soldiers waited patiently as they watched the people descend into the temple. “Wait for the signal,” he ordered.

The stairs led down to an underground chamber that had been isolated from the main sewers and expanded. Thick stone pillars held up the roof of the long chamber. The walls and floor were paved in bones, some of them charred and cracked, giving the place the feel of as ossuary. At the far end of the room, an altar carved with profane symbols sat next to a large throne that appeared to me made of an enormous skeletal hand that had burst out of the floor and now sat, cradling its occupant in its palm.

The man who sat in the throne was huge, as large as Kaliel. He wore deep purple robes and a skull mask. As the room filled, the man stood up, spreading his arms wide, and began to speak.

His sermon was in part a political diatribe against Kaliel and all Solars, but the Eternal Circle appeared to be mostly an ancestor worship cult, promising power to those who revered the spirits of the departed. Parts of the service, however, were incomprehensible to Rutendo and Luc, as they were conducting in a language neither of them had ever heard.

The man’s words were persuasive, his argument penetrating deep into the soul. A foul, dark miasma spread throughout the chamber, filling the minds of those present with hatred and loathing for the city’s rightful ruler. Rutendo found that even he was beginning to question his loyalties, an insidious effect he was only able to shake off with effort. As his mind cleared, Rutendo noticed that a symbol had appeared on the brow of the skull-faced orator; a solid circle, like the Zenith caste-mark his mother bore, but this symbol was not made of light, but was an angry, bleeding wound.

“Tonight!” the man’s voice boomed. “Tonight you are all ready! Tonight you will journey with me to the other world, where you will serve the master and be given power to end the tyranny of the Solars before it can take root in Creation!”

Slowly, Rutendo began to slip backward through the crowd. He looked around for Luc, fearful of the effects the man’s words might be having on the mortal boy, but could not find him.

He moved up the stairs and went to find Kaliel. “You must hurry,” he said. “Their leader is very powerful, on par with you or Mother, I believe. I believe he means to kill everyone in the cult.”

Kaliel scowled. “That is my job.” With a wave of his hand, Kaliel moved forward, followed by Zanka, Rutendo, and ten Knights of the Golden Flower.

In the underground temple, the cultists were swaying and chanting, entranced by the words of the priest. A translucent, ghostly form was beginning to manifest on the altar. As they prepared for the journey to the other world, the chamber was suddenly filled with sunlight.

Kaliel stood at the bottom of the stairs, his anima flaring, ethereal wings unfurled behind him as chrysanthemum petals swirled around him. “All of you!” he shouted. “Return to your homes and your rightful places!” He pointed with Principle of Severity at the man in purple robes. “And you, get out of my city!”

“The vile bright one has come!” the priest shouted. “Defend yourselves! For the glory of the Master!”

The cultists all pulled out knives from their robes. A dark aura began to emanate from the dark priest, matching the glow of Kaliel’s anima. The two auras seemed to struggle against one another for a few moments, but gradually, Kaliel’s light pushed the darkness back, until it surrounded all of the cultists. Kaliel’s wings extended forward and elongated, seeming to wrap themselves protectively around the crowd. The cultists cried out and cowered before the power of the Unconquered Sun. Half of them dropped their knives, and ran out of the room, leaving through the passageways not blocked by Kaliel. The soldiers stationed outside quickly took them into custody.

Kaliel’s concentration was broken as the ghost that had manifested at the altar suddenly shot forward, howling as it raised a broad axe and swung at the Dawn’s head. He was able to raise his daiklaive in time to ward off the blow. The priest, meanwhile, spoke a few strange words in a guttural tongue and began making ritualistic gestures with both hands.

Zanka stepped forward, avoiding the ensuing melee between Kaliel and the ghost, and addressed the cultists. “I cannot believe you have fallen for this man’s lies! The darkness here has blocked your vision from the glory of the sun, that has made Chrysanthemum a safe and prosperous city in the midst of the Northern wastes! Safe from the ravages of the Bull of the North, safe from terrors of the Realm, safe from the depredations of the Guild! Tell me, why must this priest of your hide himself from the eyes of the Sun?”

“She’s right!” cried out a young voice from the crowd, one that was familiar to the Solars. “We’ve been deceived!”

Luc’s cries were punctuated by the hissing sound of a fiery arrow streaking across the room, burying itself in the dark priest’s shoulder. The priest grimaced, but his concentration held, and he continued his chanting. Rutendo quickly drew another arrow, but him aim was thrown off by the sudden chaotic movements of confused and panicked cultists, no longer wanting to fight Kaliel but too afraid to know what else to do.

Kaliel, seeing that the dark priest was gathering dark power for his foul sorcery, gave a derisive glance to the ghost that had been trying ineffectually to combat him, and made a sudden dash across the room. His golden wings seemed to reach forward across the room and curl around the pillars, pulling him forward like a ballista bolt. The golden chrysanthemum petals began to swirl in a tight spiral, from the tip of Kaliel’s extended blade and flowing straight at the dark priest’s chest.

The priest moved his arms to block the blow, while the skeletal fingers of his throne curled around, trying to draw off necromantic Essence. The golden blade of Principle of Severity buried itself deep under the priest’s sternum, and he cried out as the energies of his sorcery dissipated into the ether. With a look of hatred burning in his eyes, the dark priest slowly slid off Kaliel’s blade, and continued to move back, passing through the skeletal throne as he turned immaterial and moved away.

Behind Kaliel, the ghost tried to move up to attack the Bronze Tiger in the back, but was intercepted by Zanka, who lashed out with her sash in a graceful, dance-like attack, curling the sash around the ghost’s arm and pulling it back toward her. Rutendo moved to cover her back as she did battle with the spirit, firing an arrow at it and disrupting its semi-solid form. The ghost’s axe struck Rutendo, but the force of the blow was deflected by the jade breastplate that Kaliel had given him when they arrived in the city.

Kaliel tried pursuing the fleeing priest, pulling out his flamepiece and firing at the transparent figure who was fading into the back of the chamber. There was a flash of smoke and fire; the priest seemed unaffected. “Cowardly bastard!” Kaliel shouted, as the priest faded from view, the last thing to vanish the bloody circle on his forehead. Spinning around, Kaliel brought Principle of Severity up over his head, and smashed it down into the altar, splitting it in half. He then spun around, and saw the confused mob of cultists, still uncertain of what they were doing. Some had even picked up the knives they had dropped, and were looking at the swirling melee between Zanka, Rutendo, and the ghost.

Kaliel’s brow darkened, and his anima flared brighter. “I told you to return to your homes. NOW!”

The chamber was devoid of cultists within seconds.

Zanka, who had pulled out her war fans, now moved in as the ghost pressed its attack on Rutendo. She began spinning around in a whirling dance, slashing with her fans too fast for the eye to follow. Great rents appeared on the spirit’s body, and necromantic essence spilled out. The Eclipse finished her dance with a flourish, slashing across its neck and severing the head from the body. It faded away as it collapsed in a heap.

Taking a moment to smash the skeletal throne, Kaliel then marched up the stairs into the night air. “Bring me High Bright Sun!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone buildings surrounding them. Several soldiers immediately set out to find the monk. Within an hour, however, they had all returned.

“There’s no sign of the monk, sir,” Corporal Broxa reported. “No one can recall seeing him leave the city.”

Kaliel thought back to the exchange he had witnessed between High Bright Sun and the community leader. Listening to him exhort the man to attend to his faith. Realizing that the monk had never once mentioned the name of the Unconquered Sun. And seeing the man he had been talking to, a short distance away, still wearing the black robes of a cultist. “An impostor,” Kaliel said. “Of course.”

۞​

In the end, the faith of the people of Chrysanthemum was tested, but emerged stronger. Kaliel’s connection to his faithful was restored, stronger than before, and even Zanka, who was instrumental in reversing the damage done by High Bright Sun’s cult, began to receive direct worship from the townsfolk.

There was some damage that could not be healed, however. A few of the more prominent members of the cult had to be banished, or simply disappeared one night. Several merchant’s businesses were disrupted for weeks as sons and daughters were obliged to take over the family business unexpectedly, and a number of audits were done to purge the insidious tendrils of the Guild. Discipline among the Knights was extremely strict for a while, to purge them of the malaise that had befallen them. Knowing, however, that idleness had contributed to the collapse in discipline, Kaliel began to make an effort to secure a mercenary contract for the Knights.

The most telling disturbance, however, was discovered when Kaliel tried to make contact with the spirit Blizzard That Topples the Oak. When the spirit did not respond to Kaliel’s summons for several days, and no trace of him could be found, the Solars were forced to assume the worst; that Blizzard, like Brusk, had been seen as an obstacle to High Bright Sun’s plans, and had been removed from the situation. Unlike Brusk, however, the spirit’s removal had been more permanent.

The town gathered one night, many weeks after the breaking of the Eternal Circle cult, and surrounded the square in front of the town hall, where a great bonfire had been built. Most of the kindling in the fire was made from hundreds of sheets of parchment, the coded serial numbers visible on the edges of some. On a signal, Rutendo fired a flaming arrow into the center of the pyre, and everyone was suddenly bathed in the light of the inferno.

Kaliel stood with Zanka and Rutendo on the steps of the town hall; Luc was off in the crowd, enjoying the festivities among the common people.

“I have received reports from the scouts I sent to investigate the Bull of the North’s sudden withdrawal,” Kaliel said to them. “I have been told that the withdrawal was because of an unexpected disturbance to the North of their forces.”

“North?” Zanka asked. The Bull’s armies were already encamped as far North as she thought possible. “Is there anything left in Creation that is north of the Bull?”

“It may not be a disturbance from Creation,” Rutendo observed. “The Fair Folk may be playing their games again.”

“Regardless of what it is, we had best keep our eye on it,” Kaliel said. “I have had enough of unpleasant surprises.”

 

[Delemental]

Jaundice

For the sake of clarity, this story occurs in parallel with "Inner Conflict", the previous story that featured Kaliel and Zanka. Recall that those two returned to Chrysanthemum after the staged fight with Lady Rinalta, while Ayama stayed to help with the pregnancy and Ghost remained behind as well.

--------------------------

Ghost stood in the doorway of Lady Rinalta’s bedroom, watching as Ayama sat on the floor, contemplating a houseplant.

After a few minutes, he walked in and stood next to her. “There is a dance performance being held at the Argent Theater in town tonight,” he told her.

“I hope you have a good time,” she said.

“I hope the same for you,” Ghost replied. “You are coming with me.”

She shook her head. “I have work to do.”

“You have had ‘work to do’ for the past three weeks,” Ghost observed. “Most of which seems to be spending ten or more hours a day rearranging the furniture.”

“I must align the geomancy of the queen’s birthing chamber precisely,” Ayama replied. “Her child is growing too fast, and her body is weak from her prolonged illness. If either are to survive, I must ensure that her child continues to develop but does not gain any more size. An undertaking of this complexity does not happen in ten minutes.”

“You are tired. More than you are willing to admit, even to yourself. If you do not take some time for yourself, you will begin making mistakes.”

“Impossible,” Ayama said. “I have no need to debauch myself to maintain my focus.”

“I never said you had to debauch yourself,” Ghost argued. “I am not attempting to turn you into me. It is one performance; no compromises to your morals will be required.”

“Regardless, my point remains valid. My work requires attention. For example, I have been trying to align the elemental Wood energy that this plant emanates to focus on the center of the room, but the shape of the plant is making that challenging. I may need to prune some of these branches, but I must consider…”

She stopped talking when she realized that Ghost had walked away. He returned moments later, carrying in a large plant from out in the corridor of the same type as the one Ayama was studying. He set the plant down, and switched the two. Then, he gave the new plant a half-turn. “Will that work?” he said.

Ayama looked at the tall plant for a moment. “Yes, it will, actually. How did you…?”

“You have talked of nothing but geomancy and aligning energies for three weeks. One cannot help but pick up the general idea of what you are trying to do.”

“Of course,” Ayama said. “The answer was so simple. I have walked by that plant in the corridor a hundred times. Why did I not…” she stopped, and looked up at Ghost, who was smiling down at her.

“I suppose,” she sighed, “that one evening away may do me some good.”

۞​

The chill in the night air formed fog on their breaths, as the approach of autumn brought the Northern cold to Lynnisbrook. Ghost and Ayama walked side by side on their way back to the palace. They had chosen a less direct route back from the performance, so as to have more time to talk.

“I must admit,” Ayama said, “that was quite enjoyable. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“And the solo performance in the third act has given me some ideas on reconfiguring…”

“Seven spirits below, woman!” Ghost interjected. “Can you simply not enjoy it for what it is? Must every waking moment be filled with meeting only the needs of others?”

“To me, it is preferable to filling those moments thinking only of my own needs.”

“But there must be some balance to it – one cannot live entirely within one extreme or the other.”

Ayama smiled. “Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

Ghost sighed. “Trust me, I have heard it before, Ayama. And I have always ignored it.”

“But not this time?”

He shrugged. “I am not certain. Since acquiring the journal of my previous incarnation in Denandsor, I have been thinking much of how one’s choices shape one’s destiny. Still, I do not think I am ready to change my lifestyle yet.”

“You have plenty of time yet, I think,” Ayama said. “And the advantage of foreknowledge your predecessor lacked.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the scream of a young woman, coming from a nearby alley. Seconds later, a thin blonde girl appeared, running out of the alley as quickly as she could, a panicked look in her eyes. She held a large bundle tightly against her chest, which she seemed to be struggling with. Sailing out of the alley a few feet behind her were three flying figures, which looked as though they were made of stone. They looked as though three gargoyles had torn themselves free from the wall of a castle and had descended on granite wings to pursue their terrified quarry.

Ghost immediately leapt high into the air, flying over to the entrance of the alley and landing squarely on the back of the centermost gargoyle, causing it to reel in midair. He then threw his Eye of Mars to the side, barely missing the gargoyle on the left, but then rebounding the golden disk off the wall to catch the one on the right in the shoulder. The gargoyles veered off, two still pursuing the girl, while the center one spun in midair and grabbed on to Ghost with thick, stony arms. As they wrestled in midair, Ayama ran up and slammed her fist into the gargoyle’s side, causing stone to split and crumble away. The gargoyle continued on down the alley, but then sniffed at Ghost, and then unceremoniously dropped him to the ground. Ghost flipped and landed on his feet.

Nearby, one of the two gargoyles pursuing the girl had managed to grab hold of her arm. As the young girl twisted away, avoiding the claws of the gargoyles, the bundle she carried fell to the ground. Part of the bag covering the bundle fell away, revealing a seven-section staff that looked to be make of a golden material, though Ghost thought it was not quite the right shade to be orichalcum.

Ayama changed directions suddenly, running toward the girl and the gargoyles attacking her. She grabbed the arm that had grasped the girl, and pulled down hard, jerking the gargoyle into her incoming punch. Ghost ran in to aid her, bending over to scoop up the bag with the seven-section staff inside and swinging the entire bundle at the head of the other gargoyle. The gargoyle spun around, but managed to return and grasped the girl’s free arm, and then tried to fly away. Taking a step back, Ghost threw the Eye of Mars at that gargoyle, aiming at its shoulder. The stone arm was severed, and fell with a crash to the ground. Cracks radiated from the wound across its chest and back, and it collapsed to the cobblestones, a thick, greenish-black ichor flowing from the wound.

As Ghost turned to face the third gargoyle, who had been circling the melee looking for an opening, Ayama twisted the arm of the one she had grappled, forcing it to release its grip on the girl. Grabbing on with her other hand and applying leverage, Ayama flipped the stone creature over and slammed it into the wall of the alley, sending chunks of masonry flying everywhere. Ghost grabbed one of the chunks of masonry as he rolled to avoid a diving attack, and threw it at the gargoyle’s head, knocking chips of stone away as it rose and wheeled back into the air.

The one-armed gargoyle, who had somehow managed to lurch to its feet, made a clumsy dive at Ghost. The Solar simply stepped aside and extended a leg, sending the gargoyle crashing back to the ground, where it shattered into rubble. The slight distraction almost caused Ghost to miss the airborne gargoyle who had flown high into the air and was now diving straight at him again. Ghost managed to spring out of the way just in time, and the gargoyle barely pulled up in time to avoid crashing.

Nearby, the gargoyle that Ayama was battling was attempting to fly off, even though the Zenith was still gripping its arm. Ayama climbed up the gargoyle’s arm and vaulted onto its back, and then reached down under its stony chin and pulled back as hard as she could. The head came off with a snap, and green-black fluid sprayed everywhere as it plummeted and became inert.

Ghost waited for the last gargoyle to descend, ready to attack. But as it swooped down, the thin girl sprang out from the side. She had pulled the seven-section staff out of its bundle, and whirled it over her head. She was clearly not very skilled with the weapon, but the gargoyle was wounded, and unable to avoid her attack, as the end of the weapon punched into its midsection, taking away a large chunk of stone with it. The gargoyle began to climb again, and looked as though it might be trying to flee. Ghost ran across the alley and ascended up a odd pile of crates nearby, jumping into the air and hurling the Eye of Mars as he came up level with the creature. The typhoon wheel struck it in its midsection, where it had been damaged by the staff, and split the creature in half. The two stone halves fell to earth and shattered, as Ghost landed a few feet away.

He walked up to where the girl was already hastily putting away her weapon, and Ayama had gone over to see her. “Are you all right? Did they injure you?”

“I… yes, I’m all right,” the girl gasped, out of breath. “Only a few bruises. Thank you for your help, strangers. I am called Mistress Yellow.” She took a few more ragged breaths. “I need to get out of the city as fast as possible. I need to escape my master.”

“Master?” Ayama asked.

“I’m apprenticed to an apothecary,” she explained, “an alchemist. He is very good at what he does. He found out I have a talent that can make him a lot of money, and from that point on he has worked me less as an apprentice and more as a slave. I am still bonded to him as an apprentice, but… I couldn’t take it any more.”

“I need to make certain you are all right first,” Ayama said. “Sometimes when we are frightened, we do not feel our injuries. Will you allow that?”

The girl nodded, and Ayama noticed for the first time that the girl’s eyes were the same golden hue as her hair. “Let us return to the palace,” she said. “You will be safe there.”

They returned quickly to the palace, where they brought Mistress Yellow quietly into their suite of rooms. The girl clung tightly to her bundle as Ayama examined her, unwilling to let it leave her grasp. When no serious injuries were found, Ayama worked on calming the girl, and as her adrenaline wore off she collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep, still holding on to the seven-section staff. Ghost took a moment to look inside the bundle as she slept, and his eyes widened with surprise.

The two Solars went out to the sitting room adjoining the bedroom. “The girl has been ill-treated for some time,” Ayama said. “She has not been fed well. She should be about thirty or forty pounds heavier than she is.”

“I have some idea why this girl is so fearful of being caught by her master,” Ghost said. “Did you see that weapon?”

“For an alchemist to possess an orichalcum weapon is unusual, I agree,” Ayama said. “It would be quite valuable.”

“More than you know,” Ghost said. “That weapon is not made of orichalcum. It is made of yellow jade.” *

۞​

Palace Guard Captain Gaius Rho was awoken much earlier than he was accustomed to. Given that he was an early riser by nature, this was remarkable in and of itself.

“There’s a problem in the city, sir,” the guard who had come to get him said as Gaius put on his uniform.

“And I assume there’s a reason you have brought this to the Captain of the Palace Guard, rather than the Captain of the City Guard?”

“Yes, sir. The reports are of some unusual sightings in the night. Reports of winged creatures flying in the air, and some unusual rubble in an alley down in the merchant district. There are also reports that the aforementioned alley is trying to eat people.”

“And our alleys are normally so well-behaved,” Gaius sighed. Since the formation of the Silver Guard, any supernatural events in the city had fallen to them to investigate. And, by extension, to him, since he was nominally their superior. In the past, they might have just gone directly to the Silver Guard and sent him a report, but with half of the Silver Guard gone, and their alleged assassin reportedly still alive, access to the remaining three was under tight control. The fact that after twenty years of service Gaius had developed a keen eye and discerning intellect was also highly sought after for these kind of disturbances.

“Wait at the palace gates for me,” he ordered. “Ten minutes.” Captain Rho mentally reviewed the duty rosters, and realized who would be on rotation this morning. He groaned inwardly. “Make it fifteen.”

Gaius walked inside the palace suite where the Silver Guard had been stationed, and opened the door to the room occupied by Ka Ciel, a Fire Aspected Dragon Blood, and one of the three remaining members of the queen’s elite personal guard. He was among the finest duelists that Gaius Rho had ever seen, which was nearly his only redeeming feature. Not that the other two were much better, of course, but they at least had the decency to spend their free time having sex with each other and not causing problems.

“What?” Ka groaned. “It is dark.”

“I’m up, so you’re up, too,” Gaius ordered. “There’s trouble in the city.”

A small flame appeared in Ka’s hand. “A fight?”

“No.”

“Damn.” Ka yawned and stretched. “Out of the way, ladies,” he said, and got up, pushing aside two nude young women, both of whom worked in the palace and at least one of whom was married.

Gaius looked them over as Ka pulled his armor on. “Only two,” he commented. “Bad night?”

“I was tired,” he said, “and this does not help.”

Eventually, they made their way into the city, and approached a nondescript alley where several of the City Guard had blocked off access. Dawn was just breaking as they arrived, giving them enough light to see. Gaius noted immediately that the alley itself was not eating people, but that a number of the stones in the roadway appeared to be alive, writhing about and bashing into anyone who came near. The only real risk might be if someone fell down while crossing through the alley.

Captain Rho crossed the barrier line, and took a closer look at one of the animated stones. He saw that a greenish-black fluid had seeped into the mortar around the stones. He also noticed that only stone seemed to be affected; the hard-packed earth underneath was undisturbed, as was a small wooden crate nearby that had some of the fluid splashed on it.

“Hey, look at this,” Ka Ciel said, pointing with his sword. A pile of stone rubble sat near the alley’s entrance, of a different type of stone than was used in the street. Two other piles were found nearby. All three had a large number of the living cobblestones around them.

“Looks like someone dropped a statue off the roof,” Ka said.

“It looks like whatever this fluid is came out of these statues,” Gaius said. He looked up at a City Guard sergeant nearby. “Any eyewitness reports?”

“None, sir,” the sergeant said. “Some reports of hearing a disturbance in the wee hours of the morning, a lot of crashing and loud noises. One fellow reports he heard a girl or woman shouting.”

Captain Rho turned back to Ka. “Any idea what that green stuff is?” he asked.

“I can only identify liquids that come out of a bottle, barrel, or cask,” he replied. “But I would guess that whatever it is was inside those statues and bringing them to life, and it spilled out when they were broken.”

“Broken by what?”

“By who, I think.” Ka held up a stone arm that had been sheared off at the shoulder. “Most of the damage here looks like it was done with sledgehammers,” he said, “but this piece was cut off with a blade of some kind, though not a sword.”

Gaius nodded, and then returned to the sergeant. “Call for a work crew,” he ordered. “Tell them to bring some covered buckets. Dig up these animated rocks and carry them off in the buckets. Whatever is causing this only affects stone. Take them outside the city, and get some people with sledgehammers to break them up.”

“Right away, sir,” the sergeant said, saluting. “Will you be returning to the palace?”

The captain looked around as his orders were carried out, and noticed that Ka was walking toward the back of the alley, with one of the female City Guards at his arm. “In about five minutes,” he sighed.

۞​

Ghost also left early in the morning, with Ayama watching over the still sleeping Mistress Yellow. He returned an hour later, carrying a small bundle and a wooden bucket with a lid.

“I purchased some new clothing for the girl,” he said. “What she was wearing before is mostly rags. I also brought this.” He pulled a small jar out of his pocket, which contained the hair dye that he had recently used to disguise himself as the late Mnemon Lyrik. “Blonde hair is uncommon in this region,” he said. “If she is being pursued, this might help throw off anyone looking for her. I can do nothing about her eyes, however.”

“What is in the bucket?” Ayama asked.

“An interesting souvenir,” Ghost said. He opened the lid and pulled out a writhing chunk of stone. “I went by the alley where we fought those stone creatures,” he said. “The area was under heavy guard. It appears that several of the cobblestones came to life last night. I saw Captain Rho down there, as well as one of those Dragon-Bloods from the Silver Guard, though he was a bit preoccupied at the time.”

Ayama noted the greenish tinge of the pulsating stone. “It seems that the ichor that animated those statues retained its potency,” she said. “But the City Guard can deal with that. I need you to remain here in case Mistress Yellow wakes up. I am going to find out who represents the alchemists in the Tradesmen’s Alliance. I wish to know what legal recourse she may have against her master.”

Ayama learned that a single guild oversaw the affairs of all of the city’s more esoteric disciplines – from thaumaturges to alchemists to exorcists to astrologers. This Guild of Mysteries was overseen by none other than Farazod, the thaumaturge who had attempted to summon Lyrik’s spirit after his murder.

Ayama found herself sitting in Farazod’s cramped but well-organized office, with a number of strange devices spinning, flashing, or making noises all around her.

“Does the Queen require my services again?” Farazod asked.

“No, I come on a more personal matter, a question of the workings of the guilds,” Ayama replied. “I am wondering how the relationship between a master and apprentice is defined within the guilds, and what legalities are involved.”

“An apprenticeship is considered a personal contract,” Farazod replied. “The details vary, but the essence of the contract is that the master agrees to teach the skills of the trade and provide room and board, and the apprentice agrees to labor for the master in the process of learning the trade. What that labor entails is between them.”

“But what if, theoretically, an apprentice found themselves forced to do tasks he or she felt went beyond their tolerance?”

“Again, it depends on the trade. For someone in, for example, the Silversmith’s Guild, if an apprentice felt they were being treated unfairly, they could petition to have their contract bought by another master. These guilds tend to monitor themselves closely, and problems are dealt with internally.”

“What of the Guild of Mysteries?”

Farazod smiled unpleasantly. “That is where it becomes complicated. You see, our various disciplines are only bonded together under a single guild because no one could decide what to do with us. This means that our guild is far more eclectic than the others, and thus there is less self-regulation. One silversmith may know when another is conducting business improperly, but it is far more difficult for an astrologer to know if a summoner is violating the ‘rules’ of their profession. The problem for apprentices within the Guild of Mysteries is that there are fewer masters of each discipline to choose from. After all, an apprentice alchemist cannot learn under a thaumaturge. This leads to apprentices in our guild being far more… tolerant of eccentric behaviors or demanding work.”

“I understand,” Ayama said, “but what if an apprentice, in theory, was pushed beyond even those broader limits?”

“I would appreciate,” Farazod said, “if you would no longer insult my intelligence with this talk of ‘theoretical’ apprentices. You would not have sought me out unless you were dealing with a specific situation.”

“I meant no disrespect,” Ayama replied, “I am simply not prepared to reveal the identities of the parties involved until I have some sense of how to address the problem properly.”

“What trade is this apprentice learning?”

“They are apprenticed to an alchemist.”

“I see. Well, in general, even with the lack of close supervision, most of the masters in our varied disciplines do not push our apprentices too far. After all, we are dealing with powerful and dangerous forces, and an apprentice driven hard enough to seek vengeance…”

“The person I am helping does not seek revenge, simply escape.”

“There is no legal method for ending an apprentice’s contract without the master’s consent,” Farazod said. “The apprentice could bring the master up on charges before the entire Tradesman’s Alliance, but this is a rare and difficult process that will be heavily resisted by all the guilds, not just the Guild of Mysteries. An official inquiry is quite thorough, and tends to bring to light more than just the charges of the accuser. It has, I am sorry to say, been used as a political tool far too often, and has nearly ceased to function for its original purpose. And, after all, the entire purpose of a guild is to protect its members.”

“Can someone buy the contract?”

“At a price set by the master, and it will be steep- especially if the buyer is not a member of the guild and not even another alchemist.”

“What if the master has broken laws in the attempt to retrieve an apprentice who has left without permission?”

“Then they can be charged, investigated, and arrested like anyone else,” Farazod said testily. “But you need evidence. And this still does not release the apprentice from their contract.”

“You have been very helpful,” Ayama said. “I will endeavor not to involve your guild further in my efforts to aid this person.”

Ayama returned to her room, and relayed the information she had learned to Ghost. As they began to discuss how to proceed, there was a knock on the outer door.

Captain Gaius Rho and Ka Ciel stood outside. “We hoped to speak to you about a matter in the city this morning.”

“He hoped to speak to you,” Ka corrected, nodding at the captain.

“Come in,” Ayama said, “but please keep your voices low. There is a young woman asleep in the next room.”

Ka grinned at Ghost. “Well done,” he said. “But only one?”

Ghost looked annoyed. “She is barely fifteen at best.”

“I fail to understand your point.”

“There was a disturbance in the city this morning,” Captain Rho said quickly. “It seems that a number of the flagstones outside an alley have somehow been animated and were attacking passers-by. There was a greenish fluid found absorbed into the stones, and rubble from three broken statues in the alley. The statues appear to be the source of the green fluid. Do either of you know anything about this?”

“You are speaking of these stones, correct?” Ghost flipped open the bucket with his foot and pulled out the animated rock. “I think we can explain.”

The two Solars related the story of their encounter last night, explaining that the young woman in the next room was being pursued by the flying gargoyle statues. With a quiet warning from Ghost spoken in Old Tongue, neither of them mentioned the seven-section staff, or more importantly, the material it was made from.

“So,” Ka said, when the story was completed, “will you pay the captain now, or go down to the courts?”

“Excuse me?” Ghost asked.

“Someone has to pay for the repairs to the street, not to mention labor,” Ka explained. “And I am certain that there is some sort of fine to be levied here.”

Ayama looked crossly at the Dragon-Blood. “If we wish to begin discussing payments for services rendered…”

“I’m sure that Ka knows,” Gaius interjected hastily, “that the person liable for payment would be whoever was responsible for the substance that animated the stones.”

“Then it seems we have a similar agenda,” Ayama said. “Perhaps we should begin making some inquiries in town.”

“There are only three alchemists in Lagan,” Gaius said. “We can inquire which of them has been working with stone recently.”

“Could we not just ask the girl who her master is when she wakes up?” Ka asked.

“Yes, we will,” Ayama said, “ but approaching this problem in a more subtle way at first will prevent the alchemist we seek from being alerted. Perhaps we should interview the stonemasons first, to see who is buying their wares.”

“Someone should stay here with Mistress Yellow,” Ghost pointed out.

“I will stay,” Ka Ciel said, all too eagerly.

“No, I will stay here,” Ghost said firmly.

---------------------------

* Those familiar with Exalted will know why this is a big deal. For those who aren't... well, it's a big deal, for reasons that will be explained in the next installment.

 

[Delemental]

Appointment

Okay, so, I'd told myself that I'd be better about posting our chronicle's side-stories where they occur in the main timeline - but I've again let them slip by. So this post is meant to catch up a bit.

This short tale is meant to take place just after The Circle Widens.

-----------------------------

Ghost laughed as he ran from the bounty hunters.

He raced around the corner, skidding to a halt when he saw three men with crossbows lined up across the alley, their weapons trained on him. All three fired at once as Ghost jumped and twisted in midair, avoiding all three missiles. His hand flashed out at the height of his jump, and a large golden shuriken spun through the air. It slashed through the neck of the assailant on the left, sending blood spraying into the face and eyes of his compatriot in the center. The shuriken struck the wall behind the mercenaries, rebounding and grazing the back of the third bowman’s leg, severing tendons and sending the man sprawling to the ground. Ghost caught the returning weapon, tucking it away out of sight.

Walking over to the three men, Ghost casually pulled the crossbow out of the hands of the blinded hunter, and used the stock as a club to drive the man back against the wall. Ghost continued his advance, taking only a moment to spin the crossbow around and fire a bolt into the chest of the man with the wounded leg, who had tried to draw a knife and slash at Ghost’s legs. Ghost slammed the third man against the wall again for good measure, then lifted him up by the front of his leather buff jacket, suspending him against the stone wall a few inches in the air.

“Normally, I’d allow you to play this game a little longer before I got bored,” Ghost said. “But my time is limited right now. So you are to take a message to your employer – my head’s weight in jade is insufficient reward for the misery I will inflict on your band of bounty hunters if you continue to pursue me.”

A slight sound behind him alerted Ghost, who spun away as a dagger flew through the air, embedding itself in the gut of the hunter that Ghost had been holding. Ghost crouched low as five more bounty hunters came around the corner, though these bore markings suggesting they were from a different band than the three Ghost had just confronted.

“He’s here!” one shouted. “We have Resplendent Ghost of Midnight trapped!”

There was a long moment of tense silence. In the distance, a bell tower tolled three times.

“Damn,” Ghost swore. He rolled backward into the corner of the alley, scooping up a handful of scattered crossbow bolts as he moved. He threw the bolts at the hunters as he came up, striking several of them as they advanced. None sustained serious wounds, but it was enough to give Ghost the time he needed to turn and climb up the wall, leapfrogging from wall to wall in the corner to gain height.

Ghost ran across the rooftops, heading for the center of the city. He could hear his pursuers scrambling to keep up, but they were barely able to match his speed. Several more had joined the five in the alley, including many from different companies, and so now a small mob was pursuing the fleeing thief.

Grinning, Ghost turned to take a detour across a large construction site, nimbly running across the tops of the bamboo scaffolding poles until he reached the other side. Turning, he saw the bounty hunters had stopped at the far edge of the site. Several had broken off and begun to circle around the vast open space of the construction pit, while the rest were beginning to tentatively move across the scaffolding. Ghost ignored the ones attempting to circle around; he would be long gone before they arrived. He waited patiently at the edge of the building as the others crossed, occasionally shouting out taunts. When they had reached the midway point, Ghost pulled out his typhoon wheel and threw it. The golden shuriken sailed between the poles, severing several of the ropes that bound them together. As the structure collapsed and men fell screaming to the earth, Ghost turned and began to walk away, raising his hand to catch his weapon as it sailed back to him.

“Insufficient reward indeed,” Ghost said to himself. “When the bounty reaches my body’s weight in jade, then I shall take you more seriously.”

* * *​

The sorcerer engineer peered across his desk at Ghost, who simply smirked back. Ghost knew he had Rhizan over a barrel, and Rhizan knew it too. By regulations, the officer should simply confiscate the pounds of magical materials that Ghost had brought him and send Ghost on his way…but there was only one place this much orichalcum and moonsilver could have come from, and anyone good enough to bring it out of Denandsor could be a powerful and worth ally - to say nothing of expensive.

Sighing, Amilar Rhizan pulled a stack of parchment from his desk, and began writing uncomfortably large numbers on them, affixing each with his signature and seal before handing them to Ghost.

“I trust I can count on your discretion when redeeming these?” he asked.

“I do not even plan to use most of them here in Lookshy,” Ghost replied as he stood. “I believe I can convert them into more varied and useful forms of currency in Nexus.”

“Very well. I do hope you will consider consulting with me again should you manage to acquire any more… curios,” Rhizan said. “But next time, please try and be prompt. Our meeting was scheduled for three bells, and my superiors tend to get inquisitive when I am running behind schedule.”

“Of course,” Ghost said, bowing. “I had merely underestimated the amount of traffic I would encounter on my way here. Next time I will be prepared.”

 

[Delemental]

Jaundice (continued)

Mistress Yellow awoke in the afternoon, while the others were still gone. Ghost had sent an order to the kitchen for a large platter of breads, cheeses, and fruits, and had also ordered water be heated and brought up for a bath. The young girl, having been deprived proper nourishment for years, ate ravenously, to the point that Ghost had to request a second platter.

“Thank you for your help, sir,” she said, as she emerged from the bedroom. She still wore her tattered and dirty clothes from last night; it was a laborer’s dress, designed to be more practical than elegant, but on her slight frame it hung loose around the shoulders. Ghost had to agree with Ayama’s assessment; another thirty pounds, and she would likely fill out the dress nicely.

“You can just call me Ghost,” he said. “And think nothing of it. I was hoping we could talk more about what has caused you to try and flee your master.”

“I have been apprenticed to Master Farkus ever since I was three,” she began. “My mother died of consumption, and I had no father. Master Farkus was the only one who would take me in that young.”

“Was he always cruel, or did things change?”

“Life was never pleasant. He gave me food and shelter, and taught me his trade, as was expected, but did little else. But when I began to reach womanhood, his interest in me began to change. That was also around the time that my abilities began to manifest.”

“Abilities?”

“Soon after I experienced the Touch of Luna* for the first time,” Mistress Yellow explained, “My master came into possession of a quantity of flawed white jade, of no real value except for experimentation. By this time Master Farkus had begun demanding more and more difficult tasks from me, and so he ordered me to attempt to transmute some of the white jade to red jade. This is a fairly complex and expensive process, though one known to many alchemists. However, when I performed the procedure I ended up transmuting the white jade to yellow jade. Not just the portion I was working with, understand, but every piece of white jade that I had in the basement with me. My master was understandably surprised, but demanded I repeat the process, this time attempting to create blue jade. Instead, as before, I created yellow jade. Since that time, Master Farkus has had me doing nothing but transmuting white jade into yellow. It has been...” she paused, “I’ve had three baths since then, so three years. That was also when he began calling me ‘Mistress Yellow’ – before that I was simply ‘Apprentice’.”

Ghost’s mind reeled. Though he was not certain why exactly yellow jade was prized, he knew it was quite a bit more costly than the five more common colors of jade. For someone to be able to create any quantity of it at will…

“What has be been doing with the jade you make?” Ghost asked.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I believe he has been selling it, though I don’t know who buys. I’m not permitted out of the basement.”

“Did you make the weapon you carry?”

“Yes, I fashioned it from remnants I’d managed to collect over time. My master made sure that I had a well-rounded education.” Mistress Yellow looked meaningfully at Ghost, and let the sleeve of her dress slip suggestively off her shoulder. “Very well-rounded.”

Ghost swallowed hard. The girl, though thin, was not unattractive, and though a bit young for his tastes…

With an effort, he reached up and slid the sleeve of the dress back up on her shoulder; she only looked slightly hurt. “I should warn you, given your ability and the value it represents, it is possible that even the palace may not remain safe for you for long. Master Farazod could be driven to do something desperate.”

“If the palace isn’t safe, what will I do? Where will I go?”

“Calm yourself,” Ghost said, trying to sound reassuring while at the same time resisting the urge to grasp her hand. “For now, you are safe. Only four people in all Creation know you are here – besides myself and Ayama, the captain of the palace guard and one of the Silver Guard know of you, and those two have been told nothing of your ability or the jade you carry now. Let Ayama and I worry about what happens next.”

“Your friend is Ayama?” Mistress Yellow gasped. “The Divine Gift to End Suffering?” The young girl looked as though she might faint from excitement. “And then you… you must be the Resplendent Ghost of Midnight!”

“Yes, she is, and yes, I am. But for now, rest – a bath has been prepared for you in the other room, and then we will discuss how to proceed.”

Mistress Yellow rose, curtsied, and then walked toward the room where the bath had been set up, walking with a little more sway in her hips than was necessary, and beginning to disrobe a few seconds before the door closed. Ghost took a few calming breaths, and then realized that the room she was in had windows. Recalling their recent troubles with Tearful Mountain, Ghost decided that he should probably try and monitor the girl in case of an unexpected attack. He allowed his Essence to flow, heightening the acuity of his hearing, and the sounds of Mistress Yellow’s splashing in the tub became as clear as if he was sitting in the room with her.

Unfortunately, Ghost quickly became aware of the flaw in his approach, when he realized from the sounds he could hear that the girl, having been denied a tryst with him, had apparently decided to make use of her time in the bath to attend to more than just her hygiene.

For the first time since his Exaltation, Ghost had reason to regret his Solar abilities.

۞​

Ayama, Gaius, and Ka returned late in the afternoon. Ghost jumped up quickly from the chair he was sitting in, as though very glad for the company.

“Mistress Yellow is in the other room,” he said immediately. “She has just come out of the bath and is changing. “She has been attending to her own needs.”

Ka sniffed at the air, detecting a subtle but familiar scent in the air. “Her own needs, eh? Unfortunate.”

Mistress Yellow emerged a few minutes later, and after introductions they sat and discussed events. “The stonemasons say that two of the three alchemists in the city, Ciera and Farkus, have been buying large quantities of stone, mostly ore with trace amounts of silver in it,” Ayama said.

“Many alchemists have dreams of unlocking the secrets of transmuting silver into moonsilver,” Mistress Yellow said. “Master Farkus was among them.”

“Farkus,” Ka said proudly. “I knew it was him.”

“You only said that because Farkus’ shop was closer to us than Ciera’s at the time,” Gaius said accusingly.

“There is something important you should know about her before we go on,” Ghost said. “The reason she is so prized by Master Farkus is that she apparently has the ability to transmute white jade into yellow jade. Reliably and in large quantities.”

“That is impossible,” Ayama said.

“This appears to be an innate ability the girl has,” Ghost said, “not the result of a secret formula.”

“I don’t understand,” Captain Rho said. “I know yellow jade is rare, but what is so special about it?”

“Yellow jade is never found naturally,” Ayama explained. “It is created by transmuting white jade during the process of alloying it with steel. But the process only ever happens on rare occasions, and by pure chance; there is no reliable way to do this transformation. Even the same alchemist who becomes lucky, and repeats the same procedure, will not succeed a second time. The reason that it is valuable…”

“Is that normal people can use it,” Ka interjected.

Ayama paused for a moment. “Yes, the main benefit is that those without the ability to channel Essence can attune to an artifact made of yellow jade, and utilize its magical properties.” She turned to Mistress Yellow. “How much have you made?”

“I’m not sure,” the girl replied, “but quite a lot.”

“She has been doing this for over three years,” Ghost explained. “And this presents a problem. For something as valuable as this, I think that Master Farkus may not consider the palace an obstacle when attempting to retrieve her.”

“The only thing that has ever breached the palace defenses,” Ka said haughtily, “was one of you.”

“And with the resources as his command,” Ghost snapped back, “Farkus could contract the services of a half-dozen Solars. Or a score of Dragon-Bloods. Or a small mercenary army.”

“None of this is important now,” Ayama said. “I believe that Lady Rinalta needs to be informed of the situation, and that we need to know who has been buying Farkus’ jade. This is a large quantity of potent magical material, and if a single entity has acquired it, then they represent a significant threat.”

“Were you creating items from the jade, Mistress Yellow?” Ghost asked.

She shook her head. “Master Farkus mostly had me creating ingots of yellow jade-steel.”

“I will go and inform the queen,” Captain Rho said. “I can alert the palace guard as well.”

“Do not tell the guard why they are on alert,” Ghost warned. “Secrecy is our best advantage now, and in the future. If word gets outside of the kingdom about Mistress Yellow and her ability, there will be no force on Creation that will save Lagan from becoming a multiple-front battlefield.”

“Speed is also of the essence,” Ayama said. “No doubt Master Farkus will eventually learn that people from the palace were asking questions about the spending habits of alchemists, and grow suspicious.”

“Neither Ka nor I are well known outside the palace walls,” Gaius explained.

“Well, I am known in the blue banner houses,” Ka clarified.

“Your point is taken, however,” Gaius said to Ayama, ignoring Ka. “I will return shortly.”

While the captain was gone, Ayama took Mistress Yellow into the other room, while Ghost engaged Ka Ciel in games of cards and mahjongg, partly to keep his own mind off the young girl, and partly to keep the Dragon-Blood’s mind off her.

“Mistress Yellow,” Ayama said gently to the girl, as they sat on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to talk to you about what might happen in the next few days. I think it is likely that the queen will wish you to remain here at the palace, even after we have dealt with your former master.”

“I understand,” she replied. “I will make yellow jade for the queen now.”

“This is what I wished to talk about. I think that it will be very easy for people to see you only for what you can do. I am hoping that you can find people in your life who will appreciate you for who you are.”

“But won’t everyone want me to make yellow jade for them?”

“But what else makes you unique? What else can others appreciate? What qualities do you possess that no one can place a price upon?”

Mistress Yellow looked at Ayama, the confusion over the question evident in her face. Slowly, it dawned upon the Zenith that the girl had spent most of her life regarded as almost nothing at all, and the past three being seen only as a commodity. It was the only sense of self she had. Her heart aching, Ayama forced the words she knew she needed to say from her lips.

“All I am trying to tell you,” she said slowly and quietly, “is that you need to recognize that you are your own master now. You are the only one who can determine the value of your own abilities. Make certain that you name a price for your services that is appropriate to the value and rarity of your gift.”

“Oh!” she said, brightening. “I see.” Mistress Yellow thought for a moment, then she pulled the bundle containing the seven-section staff out from under the bed. “You’ve helped me out so much,” she said to Ayama. “And you are going to keep helping me. I don’t really have anything else of value with me, so I want you to have this.” She thrust the bundle into Ayama’s arms. “What you’ve done for me is beyond value, and you deserve to have this.”

Ayama strongly considered declining the gift, but realized that this may have been the first time that the girl had the opportunity to give something of her own free will. “Thank you,” she said, and embraced her.

“And don’t worry,” Mistress Yellow said, “I won’t give anything else away for free after this.”

A small part of Ayama’s heart withered and died.

۞​

Captain Rho returned less than an hour later. “The queen has made it very plain to me that she’s quite unhappy about Farkus hiding such a valuable resource from the kingdom for so long,” he said. Rinalta had, in fact, addressed him as ‘Gaius’ when she spoke, something she only did when she was furious. “She has stated that the girl should be considered a national resource. I have been ordered to do whatever is necessary to ensure that the problem with Farkus is resolved. Buy him off, throw him in jail… whatever is necessary.”

“Excellent!” Ka said, standing up. “Let us go kill him now.”

“Perhaps we could try another approach first?” Ayama chided.

“We do want to know who is buying his jade,” Captain Rho said, “and the queen also pointed out that this formula that animates stone has value as well.”

“I suggest we try and buy Mistress Yellow from him,” Ghost said. “We can pose as foreign interests wanting to acquire his secrets.”

“Captain, Did Lady Rinalta seem to understand that we are speaking about a young woman here, who should be treated as such?” Ayama asked.

“She told me specifically, ‘Tell Ayama that I will treat the girl well, and not like a vein of ore to be mined’.”

“I see that I have been spending too much time in her company,” Ayama said, noticing Ghost’s amused glance. “Very well. The details can be addressed later.”

“Then let us go and speak to this alchemist,” Ka said, “and hope that negotiations go poorly.”

They left the palace as the sun dipped below the horizon, so it was dark by the time they reached Farkus’ dwelling, a well-kept two story building which housed the alchemist’s shop on the first floor and his living quarters below. Trying the door, they found it locked.

“Shall we knock?” Ka Siel asked, starting to draw back to make a run at the door.

“Wait,” Ghost said, and examined the lock on the door. “He has spent some good money on this lock,” Ghost said, pulling out his tools. Seconds later, the door popped open.

“I wanted to break it down,” Ka complained.

“You can do that after we are done,” Ghost said, as he pulled the door open and went inside.

The interior of the shop was dark, though a few lit candles were scattered about, and they could see light coming from behind a door in the back. There were a number of shelves lined with various jars and containers, all behind locked doors with glass panels. More noticeable were the large stone statues that lined the walls. There were eight statues total, all of humanoid figures, each one much larger than the gargoyles Ghost and Ayama had faced before. When none of them stirred, the four moved forward.

As they neared the back door, it flew open, and a wizened old man appeared in the doorway. The man had a wide-eyed stare, and his hair jutted unevenly from a mostly bald pate. His clothes were stained and soiled, and he reeked as though he had not bathed for a few weeks. His scraggly white beard was scorched in a few places.

“Who are you?” he screeched.

“Are you Master Farkus?” Ghost asked.

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Excellent. A good evening to you, and we apologize for intruding at this late hour, but our business is quite urgent and best conducted in hours where we would not disturb your normal dealings with the public. My associates and I represent an interest from outside the borders of your fine nation, who is interested in some of your more, shall we say, esoteric wares?”

Farkus squinted at him. “Go on.”

“Specifically,” Ghost continued, “we have come to negotiate with you as to acquiring the method by which you are able to produce a certain rare material. Our backers of course understand the value this method represents to you, and are prepared to recompense you in a fitting manner.”

Farkus looked over the group who had entered his shop. Then his eyes, somehow, grew even wider than before. “It was you!” he shouted, flecks of foam appearing at the corners of his mouth. “You took her from me! It’s all your fault!” Before anyone could react, he reached over and pulled a cord hanging near the doorway. They heard the sound of shattering glass coming from somewhere inside the shop. “Kill them!” Farkus screamed, gesticulating at the four of them.

Ka Ciel’s fiery blade was unsheathed in a moment, and swept through the cord, severing it. The blow continued on through Farkus’ neck; Ka was surprised when he felt resistance to his strike, as though the crazed old man was wearing armor, but he pressed his attack through, and moments later the alchemist’s head fell to the wooden floor. The silence that accompanied the sudden end of Master Farkus was interrupted by the sound of stone grinding on stone.

Ka leapt into the air as two stone fists slammed together where he had been standing. He balanced on the point of his sword, twisting out of the way, and then jumped up onto the forearm of one of the two large statues that had animated, slashing at it as he landed. Ghost had vaulted onto the arm of the second, and flung the Eye of Mars at its head, leaving a gash across its eye that would have been fatal for a creature of flesh, but was a mere inconvenience for the living statue. Ayama also moved forward, striking at the joints of the statues in order to bring them down. Captain Rho, realizing he was out of his league, moved into the work area in the back of the shop, in order to search through Farkus’ records.

One of the statues clipped Ka in the shoulder with a fist. The Dragon-Blood spun with the blow, using the extra momentum to drive his sword into the eye of the statue behind him, where Ghost’s weapon had already scored the stone. He then kicked up off the ceiling to drive the weapon deeper into the crack. As he shoved, he allowed his Essence to flow, enhancing his perceptions so that he could see the play of energies around the statue. He noted a small spot near the top of its head where the flows were weaker, suggesting a vulnerable point. Withdrawing his sword, he reared back and drove the blade into that point. Greenish black fluid sprayed across the room, and the statue suddenly spasmed.

“Top of the head!” Ka shouted, leaping down.

Ghost leapt off the statue he was battling, and ran along the tops of the shelves to get some distance from it. He put away his typhoon wheel and instead drew one of the boomerangs of Chiaroscuro glass he carried, hurling it at the statue’s head. The razor-sharp glass weapon struck the top of the statue’s head, sending more dark fluid flowing. The statue’s movements became slow and jerky, but it continued its pursuit of Ghost.

Ayama noticed that some of the green ichor had come dangerously close to splashing onto the other stone statues in the room. Thinking quickly, she smashed her fist into a nearby cabinet, withdrawing two vials and hurling both at the statue that Kaliel was battling, aiming for the crack in the top of its head that was still oozing ichor. When the two vials shattered and mixed, it released a wave of numbing cold, crystallizing the ichor flowing from the wound and slowing the statue even further. Ka Ciel, rushing in as his sword was wreathed in flames, jumped up and smashed the weapon into the same place. The rapid application of cold and heat weakened the stone enough that the head shattered under the force of the Dragon-Blood’s blow. Ichor-coated rubble rained everywhere.

The statue pursuing Ghost suddenly reared up and smashed both fists into the wooden floor, sending a shockwave through the floor that knocked shelves to the floor and sent glass and ceramic flying. Both Ka and Ayama were thrown to the ground, as was Gaius in the next room. Ghost, however, remained on his feet, and was able to take advantage of the statue suddenly bending over. His boomerang flew through the air, and buried itself in the top of the statue’s head. The head seemed to explode outward, sending ichor in all directions. The statue toppled to the floor, smashing through the floorboards and crashing into the basement.

The three combatants gathered around the edge of the ragged hole in the floor, looking down into a small, windowless space dug into the earth. Before the arrival of the giant stone statue, they saw that it had once contained only a single filthy cot, a workbench, a foul-smelling bucket, as well as a single small oil lamp. Jumping down into the hole, Ghost poked at the workbench with the end of a dagger, withdrawing a single sliver of yellow jade from a crack in the table.

۞
​

Ayama and Ghost sat in a small, tidy tavern not far from the palace walls. Ayama had applied herself vigorously to the task of becoming intoxicated, determined to overcome the natural resistance the Exalted had to such substances.

“I have managed to get you to go out and indulge in a selfish pleasure for two nights in less than a week,” Ghost commented. “I shall have to refrain from a third attempt for a while, lest Creation itself unravel.”

Ayama flashed him a smile that was too wide. “From the Old Tongue: v’t’ash, to unravel, to come undone. V’t’ash’, I unravel. V’t’ash’d, you unravel. V’t’ash’a, we unravel. Here ends the lesson.”

Ghost was beginning to question the wisdom of bringing Ayama here. It had been several days since they had killed Farkus and freed his former apprentice; she was now living at the palace, and well cared for. She had been brought in as a ‘personal attendant’ to the queen, who could administer medicines to assure her comfort. Thus it was no surprise to the palace staff that the young woman had been equipped with an alchemical laboratory. Certainly this fact was of no consequence to the merchants who worked for the kingdom, who had been instructed recently to begin quietly acquiring white jade.

“You did the best you could for Yellow Jade Mistress,” Ghost said. Among the documents they had found in Farkus’ workshop was the research he had done into her ability. He had discovered the girl’s true name, and determined that she was a God-Blood, likely the progeny of one of the gods of jade. Captain Rho was still going through the alchemist’s ledgers, trying to sort out who had bought yellow jade from the man. The process was slow, as the captain had to perform the work by himself to avoid letting others know about Yellow Jade Mistress.

“I have sold her from one master to another,” Ayama slurred, “and allowed her to think I was doing her a great favor.”

“It will take time for the girl to realize that she is more than just her power,” Ghost said. “And when she does, she will know that you only did what you had to do to make sure she was safe.”

Ayama shrugged, and returned her focus to the ale in front of her. After several minutes of drinking in silence, she looked up at Ghost.

“Do you remember, Ghost, when you asked why I could not enjoy an act of leisure for its own sake? Why I sought to fulfill the needs of others without regard to my own?”

“I do.”

“There are some days, I must confess, where that question is more difficult to answer than others.” She again gave Ghost a lopsided smile. “I do sometimes envy the simplicity of your life, Ghost. That you can live your life so unburdened.” She set her head down on the wooden table, and within seconds was snoring softly.

Ghost looked at his companion for a while, then picked up her flagon and drained its contents in a single draught.

“Unburdened,” he repeated. “That was a word that Evanescent Shadow often used to describe her own life.”


-------------------------

"Touch of Luna" has nothing to do with being a Lunar Exalted, just to be clear. Luna is the goddess of the moon in Creation, of course, and thus will be associated with other monthly cycles.

 

[Delemental]

Homecoming

“Happy birthday, Ghost,” Ayama said, handing him a wrapped bundle.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the gift. “But my birthday is not for another three months.”

“True,” Ayama said, “but as I recall, your Exaltation occurred almost exactly two years ago, correct? This would then be the anniversary of your second birth.”

“An excellent point.” Ghost untied the package, revealing a large, leather-bound book. He opened it, to discover that the pages were blank, save for a short inscription on the first page.

Ghost, please try not to misplace this. Your journals are notoriously difficult to find. Ayama.

As the full irony of Ayama’s gift struck him, Ghost began to laugh.

۞​

Ayama and Ghost were met at the gates of Chrysanthemum by Kaliel and Zanka.

“It is good to see you both,” Kaliel said. “Welcome to the city. I hope you will find things in better order than when we arrived.”

“Trouble at home?” Ghost asked.

“A little. It seems the problem has mostly been resolved.” He turned to Ayama. “How is Lady Rinalta?”

“Alive,” Ayama reported.

“And her child?”

“Alive as well. She had a boy. He is small, which is of course what I wanted, but will grow quickly. I expect there is a good chance he will make it to his Naming next year.”

“Excellent,” Kaliel said. “Come, let us go to my house. We can tell our stories in full there, out of the cold.”

It was early winter, and the snow was deep on the ground around Chrysanthemum. A chill breeze blew through the pine forests surrounding the city, raising clouds of fine powder that drifted over the walls and rained down gently.

Brusk approached as they four Solars walked to Kaliel’s house. “Welcome back, sir and ma’am,” he said, saluting.

“Greetings to you as well, Brusk,” Ghost said, “I heard you had a little trouble here.”

“We’re sorting it out,” he replied.

Kaliel looked at Brusk. “How quickly are the men making their laps around the square?”

“They’re back up to standards, sir – a little above, I’d say.”

“Are you joining us?” Ghost asked.

“No, sir. Duties.”

“In that case, I have something for you.” Ghost pulled off his pack, which included a rather large wrapped bundle that had been strapped to his back. Ayama knew that he had carried the bundle from Lynnisbrook, and that it was quite heavy, but Ghost had not revealed the contents, saying only that it was a surprise.

Unwrapping the cloth from the bundle, Ghost revealed a large, ornate axe made of yellow jade, the kind commonly known as a grimcleaver. The weapon was carved to look as though it had been hewn from solid ice, with images of wolf heads etched on the broad blades. He hefted the large double-bladed weapon and gave it to Brusk.

“This is Frostwolf. I acquired this weapon during our own exploits back in Lagan,” Ghost said. “I thought that you should have it.”

Brusk picked up the jade weapon, grunting at the weight of it. “Thank you,” he said, “but this weapon is made of jade. There is not much I can do with it.”

“This is a unique weapon,” Ghost said. “I suggest you spend some time with it, try to get a feel for it, try to connect your soul to the spirit of the weapon.”

“Of course, sir. I will try.” Brusk saluted and then left, dragging the massive weapon behind him.

Kaliel looked at Ayama. “Brusk has never been one to have a deep understanding of spiritual or mystical matters,” he said.

“I will try and assist him with the attunement process later,” she said with a smile.

They all arrived at Kaliel’s home, and after a celebratory toast, they each shared the stories of their travails of the past few months. They were all interested to learn of the existence of yet another of the strange Solars with the bloody caste marks, and resolved that they should try and look into the matter further when they had time. Zanka detailed how she had worked to purge the records of unnecessary documents, and had developed a new filing system that was more resistant to tampering, as well as a system of confirming orders sent from abroad. Ayama was somewhat displeased to hear about the draconian measures that Kaliel had implemented to purge the Eternal Circle cult from his city, but resolved that it would likely not be the first time that the two of them disagreed on such matters.

Kaliel was very intrigued to learn about Yellow Jade Mistress, and her unique ability, but was cautioned to be discreet so as to preserve the secret of her existence. “For now it may be best for people to believe that Frostwolf is a unique artifact found in some dusty tomb,” Ghost said. “And not something that I had commissioned the week before we left Lynnisbrook.”

“I would also remind you that Yellow Jade Mistress is in the employ of Lady Rinalta,” Ayama said, “and that you have no special entitlement to her services. You will need to negotiate with Rinalta as you would for the services of any of her other subjects.”

“I will bear this in mind,” Kaliel promised.

“I am just offended that you did not bring any gifts for me,” Zanka said, affecting a pout.

“You are not responsible for defending this city when Kaliel is gone,” Ghost said. “Things are hard enough up here as it is – I thought I would offer what help I could.”

“Thank you for that, Ghost,” Kaliel said. “But let us talk of the future. There are a few matters of concern that I need to attend to here, and then I feel we should go North.”

“What is occurring to the North?” Ghost asked.

“We know that the Bull of the North has been experiencing troubles originating from that region,” Kaliel said. “I wish to know if some of that trouble could potentially reach Chrysanthemum. I also have another interest – for some time I have considered the potential military applications of the mammoths that run further North. The people of Zanka’s village have some expertise in attending to these beasts.”

“I have sent a messenger to Crystal to reach my family,” Zanka said, “and there has been no response.”

“All are serious concerns,” Ayama agreed. “But what troubles you here?”

“My primary concern is the disappearance of Blizzard That Topples the Oak,” Kaliel said. “I strongly suspect he was destroyed by High Bright Sun. We have been unsuccessful in locating any other higher-order elementals or spirits in the region. We would benefit from another god to manage this region, but I do not know how to attract the services of such a being.”

“That is not a subject I am familiar with, either,” Ayama admitted. “I know that there is supposed to be some form of bureaucracy for such beings, but I do not know its workings, and I suspect it has degraded significantly in the centuries after the Usurpation.”

“There is another matter which you will be able to assist me,” Kaliel said. “We know that Kal Bax’s workshop nearby was once a water manse. I would like to know what would be required to repair the manse. I know you have made a study of geomancy recently.”

“We can go out to the location tomorrow morning,” Ayama said, “I will see what advice I can offer. Before I do that, I would like to visit with my son.”

“I would like to see how Luc is doing, as well,” Ghost added.

“Luc will be easy to find,” Zanka said, “he has been occupying his time working as a page. We have not seen Rutendo for several weeks, however.”

Ayama looked at Kaliel. “You have misplaced my son?”

“He misplaced himself,” Kaliel corrected. “He is an adult, and declined my offer to joining the Knights of the Golden Flower, and so I have no need or desire to monitor his activities.”

The next morning, Ayama and Kaliel rode out to Kal Bax’s manse, while Ghost went with Zanka to find Luc. He was located easily enough, but when asked if he knew of Rutendo’s whereabouts, he became evasive. After some persuasion from the Eclipse, Luc admitted that Rutendo had told him he was leaving the city weeks ago, but the Dragon-Blood had not disclosed his destination or purpose.

“He only told me he was going on a mission,” Luc said.

At the same moment, Ayama was taking a survey of the lands surrounding the manse, and told Kaliel that it was reparable, but would take significant time and resources to refocus the Essence flows.

“I would estimate that a crew of a hundred would take two years to make the necessary repairs,” she said. “And a cost in materials commensurate with that investment.”

“Is there no way to reduce that investment?” Kaliel asked.

“More people would reduce the time, of course, and vice versa. You could also find a way to employ supernatural beings, which have the capacity of working longer hours than mortals. Elementals, for example, or constructs.” Ayama specifically avoided mentioning demons as a possibility.

“Thank you for the information,” Kaliel said. “Now, let us return to the city. Neither of my concerns will be resolved quickly, it seems, so I see no reason we cannot plan our journey North.”

۞
​

They set out a week later, accompanied by a scale of Knights. Up until that time Ayama spent her days trying to keep her mind occupied, and so as a consequence when Kaliel left his people had never been in better health.

They were all mounted, and accompanied by horse-drawn wagons fitted with snow runners. Five-man squads ranged ahead of the main group, scouting for danger and setting up camp at the end of the day. Life quickly became a monotony of routine for everyone, except for Zanka.

The Eclipse’s mood visibly brightened as they drew closer to her home. She regaled the others with tales of the members of her family, and life in Crystal both before and after the Immaculate Order had come. The mention of the Immaculates was the only thing that darkened her mood, as she worried about what havoc they had caused in the time since she had been sold to the Guild as a slave. But these moods would pass quickly, and she would begin again with the tale of her birth, and how her Matre and Patre had considered her “too beautiful” to leave out to die, despite her frailty, and how she had been raised to tend to the children and elderly of the tribe rather than taught the demanding work of hunting or excavating.

To his credit, Ghost kept his opinions on the flaws in their parenting decisions to himself.

Weeks dragged into months. It was mid-winter, and Crystal laid three thousand miles North of Chrysanthemum. They were slowed by blizzards, and attacks by icewalkers, and by frostbite. It was nearly spring again by the time they drew close to the junction of the two giant glaciers that sheltered Crystal.

A late season blizzard struck less than a hundred miles from the city, and the company was forced to call a halt until it passed. Hours went by as the company huddled in their shelters, constructed of canvas tents surrounded by block of packed snow. Toward sundown, however, one of the sentries reported seeing a strange light approaching from the north.

The four Chosen waited in a line at the edge of the camp, until a faint yellow glow appeared through the driving snow. As it slowly drew closer, they saw that it was a man, surrounded by a blazing nimbus of flame that kept the freezing wind and snow at bay. The intensity of the inferno against the blizzard was such that the man was nearly at the edge of the camp before they realized it was Rutendo.

Ayama began to rush forward to help him, but he held up his hands. “Wait for it to fade,” he said, referring to his fiery anima. After a few minutes, the light and heat faded, and Rutendo came forward, where he was quickly escorted into Kaliel’s large tent.

Rutendo stripped out of his heavy furs, sweating despite the chill in the tent. Zanka looked appreciatively on the Dragon-Blood’s muscular form. “I had not expected to see you this far North so soon,” he said. “I was making my way back as fast as possible.” He scowled. “I have decided that I dislike snow that is higher than my head.”

“It is not so bad,” Zanka said. “One just has to know how to handle it.”

“What are you doing up here?” Ayama asked.

“I knew that you planned to come here, and I thought it would be good to see what you might face,” he said. “Unfortunately, the situation is not good. I can think of no other way to say this, other than to say that you are walking into the depths of the Abyss.”

“What have those Immaculates done?” Zanka cried.

“They have left.”

“What? Not that I am displeased, but why?”

“I would attribute it to three things; the army of undead, the army of demons, and the army of the Bull of the North, all of whom are currently within Crystal.”

“Ayama?” Zanka asked.

“What do you expect me to know of this?” the Zenith asked. She had already stood and begun pacing inside the tent.

“Would this army of undead be the result of the plague we fought in Chrysanthemum and Petgrana?”

Rutendo shook his head. “This is not an army of zombies. It is comprised mainly of spectral undead.”

Zanka nodded, the logic penetrating the panic she was fighting in her mind. Ghosts were not uncommon this far North, where ancestor worship was a frequent practice, while more corporeal undead were rare, as their joints usually froze within minutes.

“What are these armies doing there?” Kaliel asked.

“The demons and undead appear to have arrived at the same time, and have been battling each other,” Rutendo said. “The Bull had arrived just as I was preparing to leave, and was still assessing the scene. That was three weeks ago.” He looked sorrowfully at Zanka. “I am sorry to say that the city of Crystal is little more than a ruin now, and I saw no sign of survivors.”

“Is there any indication of what they want there?” Ghost asked.

“Power,” Ayama said. “I can think of no other motivation for two such forces.”

“Their battles have focused mainly on the excavation sites in the glacier,” Rutendo said. “It seems that the destruction of Crystal itself was not the objective. I admit I do not know what it the excavations are for; they do not look like mines.”

“There are rumors of a First Age city buried somewhere within the great glaciers,” Ayama said. “There have been efforts to locate it for many decades, mostly undertaken by the Realm.”

“If some of you would like to push ahead,” Rutendo said, “I can lead you in the morning. I believe the blizzard will lift by morning. Or, I am willing to remain behind and escort your men to the city once the storm breaks.”

“I will go,” Ghost said. “I can try and get more information about what is happening.”

“I will remain here with my men,” Kaliel said. “I believe that Rutendo should go ahead with you, Ghost, so he can leave a trail for us to follow.”

“Zanka,” Ayama said gently, “do you wish to stay with Kaliel, or more ahead with Ghost and Rutendo?”

Zanka had not moved or spoken since Rutendo’s announcement that there were no survivors in Crystal.“Yes,” Zanka said quietly. Then, after a few moments of silence, she said, “but I will remain here. Kaliel may need help negotiating with the Bull of the North when he arrives.”

“I will go with Ghost and my son, then,” Ayama said. “I suggest that we all try and rest.”

The night dragged on as they all tried to get rest. Only Rutendo was able to fall asleep quickly; Zanka required a calming tea brewed by Ayama before she was able to fall into a fitful slumber. Kaliel remained awake all night, making sure that things were in order so they could depart at dawn, and also briefed his men on what awaited them ahead.

As she slept, Zanka had strange, terrifying dreams of her family being torn apart by demons or drained of life by specters. But suddenly, the images of horror eased, and were replaced by a sense of calm, a feeling that even though the situation was grim, it would not be so terrible for her personally. She awoke with the memory of an unknown but familiar voice, telling her that her journey home was important.

The sun rose in a clear, cold sky the next morning. Rutendo, Ghost, and Ayama departed at dawn, and quickly outpaced the slower wagons. By the time they made camp, they had lost sight of the trailing soldiers completely.

It took another sixteen days of travel before the three Exalts arrived at the base of one of the two great glaciers that surrounded Crystal. Rutendo pointed up the sheer icy face.

“I was able to climb up here in order to get a look over the city,” Rutendo said. “It is the best place to do so without being seen by any of the armies in Crystal.” He looked at Ghost and smiled. “Climbing this glacier was a difficult task. I suppose you will now put me to shame.”

“I cannot help that you were Chosen to be an Exalt of lesser capability,” Ghost replied. “I will be back soon.”

Ghost began scaling the glacial wall quickly, leaping from one jagged protrusion to the next as he climbed. He restrained himself to only doing somersaults twice while jumping. Once at the top, Ghost crouched down and moved to the far edge of the glacier, to look down on Crystal. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders more tightly, to ward off the biting wind.

The city below was a vast ruin, with fires still smoldering in some places. He could see no signs of any activity in the streets or around the collapsed buildings. Far to the north, he could see the gaping hole that had been carved into the side of the glacier, in search of the fabled lost city. There was some activity near the excavation, but from this distance he could not tell if it was a battle, or efforts to resume the work. He could also make out the encampments of all three armies.

The army of the undead lay to the northeast, and looked fairly inactive in the light of day. They flew a banner of gold stripes on a field of deep purple, raised on a flagstaff made of bone. The demonic army, camped to the northwest, had raised a banner on a post of a dark bronze, showing colors of dark green on black. The demon’s encampment appeared much larger than that of the spectral army.

The Bull of the North had placed himself on the southern end of the city, blocking off the only passage into and out of Crystal. His forces looked as though they were not attempting to assault either of the other armies, but had entrenched themselves, both to prevent anyone from leaving and to protect themselves from sudden assault.

Ghost descended the glacier again, rejoining his companions, and informed them of all he had seen.

“At least there is hope that the Bull has committed himself to addressing the problem,” Ayama said.

“Possibly,” Ghost observed, “but there is also the chance that if he determines these two forces pose no direct threat to his plans, he could pull out and rejoin his main forces in Halta. Best we determine his true motives here.”

“Should we wait until Kaliel and the others are able to join us, and approach as a group?” Rutendo asked. “These barbarians will likely respect a show of strength.”

“Then why not show our true strength?” Ayama said. “We can go now and offer to aid the Bull, and also prepare him for Kaliel’s arrival. I am sufficiently bored and affronted enough that the thought of slaying demons to prove our worth does not displease me.”

 

[Delemental]

Kaliel’s forces made better time than expected, and were only a few days behind the others when they drew within sight of the narrow gap between the glaciers that marked the entrance to Crystal.

The Knights halted as they were challenged by sentries, wearing the markings of the Icewalkers. Kaliel and Zanka rode forward to address them.

“I am Kaliel, Lord of Chrysanthemum, Commander of the Knights of the Golden Flower. I seek an audience with your general.”

“We have been told to expect you,” said the leader of the sentry detail. “You may enter the camp, Lord Kaliel. The others must remain here.”

“No,” Zanka said. “I will go with him.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Only Kaliel is permitted to pass at this time, woman. Hold your tongue.”

“Inform the Bull that I will only meet with him if my circle-mates are with me,” Kaliel said.

A runner was dispatched, and returned a half hour later, conversing with the squadron leader in their guttural native language. “Lord Kaneko apologizes for the misunderstanding. Both you and Zanka Odokari may enter the camp, and will be granted audience.”

Zanka and Kaliel dismounted, and after giving instructions to the Knights, were led into the camp of the Bull of the North, which was much larger than they had originally realized. Kaliel estimated that the forces camped here numbers roughly five thousand, which was as large a military force as the Sword of Heaven had ever heard being fielded in a single engagement. To realize that this was likely only a portion of his army was staggering.

They eventually reached the center of the camp, where a large command tent had been erected. Ayama and Ghost were waiting outside.

“You made good time,” Ghost said, clasping Kaliel’s arm.

“I thought that we might expect to see you two here when they already knew our names,” Zanka said.

“We advised them of your arrival,” Ayama said. “But we have not spoken to the Bull since our first audience. Since then, we have kept busy among the Icewalkers, in our various ways.”

“Where is your son?” Kaliel asked.

“Training with the Bull’s force,” Ayama said. “He decided he needed additional practice in scaling ice cliffs.”

The four Exalts were led inside, to a room thick with carpets and furs. A throne carved from mammoth ivory sat at the apex of the chamber, upon which sat a powerfully-built old man, appearing to be in his sixties or so, with a mane of gray hair framing a stern face and a thick neck. He was bare-chested, and the thick muscles of his torso and arms were crisscrossed with scars. A huge longbow leaned against the throne on the right side, and a massive daiklaive of red jade sat in a scabbard mounted to the left side. There was no doubt from the sheer presence of the man, and the deference given him by the other Icewalkers, that this was Yurgen Kaneko, the Bull of the North. Standing behind the throne to the right was a much younger woman, also of the Icewalker tribe; Kaliel guessed that this would be Samea, the Zenith caste Solar who acted as an advisor to the Bull.

“Welcome, Lord Kaliel,” said Samea. “And welcome as well to the Beguiling Flower of the Dancing Lights. General Kaneko greets you and extends his gratitude for your support. The Haltan ambassador, Three Certain Truths, spoke well of you and the courtesy with which he was received, and we hope that we may provide the same for you.”

Yurgen Kaneko did not look like he was extending gratitude or courtesy of any kind, despite his advisor’s words. In truth, it appeared more as though the Bull of the North and the Auric Lion were sizing each other up. Kaliel stood half a head taller that Yurgen, but the Icewalker general was broader in the shoulder, and more muscular. The others held their tongues during this silent exchange between the two Dawns, knowing that it was necessary for each to assert their place. Glancing over at Ayama, Zanka was somewhat surprised to see a strange look in the Zenith’s eyes when she looked at the Bull of the North, a look that went just slightly beyond mere admiration or respect.

“What is your intention?” the Bull finally asked.

“We intend to aid you in dealing with the threat posed by the forces of the demons and the unquiet dead,” Kaliel replied. “Though my own force is small in comparison to yours, they are well trained, and can be deployed in a variety of combat roles.”

“I have no intention of engaging with either force,” the Bull stated. “They war with each other. I will simply wait until one force has routed the other, and then descend upon the weakened remnants. You have walked a long way, Lord Kaliel, to sit and wait with us.”

“General,” Zanka said, stepping forward. “Lord Kaliel and his men have come here for my sake. As you may already know, I was born and raised within this city. To hear that it has been destroyed, and my people slaughtered… I must speak the truth, and say that to hear you speak of doing nothing to avenge them brings me no succor to my grief.”

“The death of my Icewalkers will not bring back your people,” Yurgen said. “Perhaps if they had been harder warriors themselves…”

“Not all of your people were killed in the attack, child,” Samea said. “We encountered many fleeing south as our forces were arriving. We tended to their wounded, gave them such supplies as they could purchase, and sent them to the Haslanti League for refuge.”

“Did you record the names of those who survived?” Zanka asked, hopefully.

“No, child,” Samea said, “We are warriors, not bureaucrats. Their names meant little to us.”

“Then, with your permission, I would like to speak with those who aided the refugees from Crystal. I have family whose fate I would know.”

Samea looked at Yurgen, who nodded. “Very well. Speak with our quartermaster. He can guide you to those who dealt with the survivors.”

“General Kaneko,” Ghost said. “What is it the demons and ghosts are seeking here?”

“We do not know,” Samea admitted. “Their battles rage mainly near the locations of the excavations into the glacier. Those we have tried to send into the excavation have not returned.”

“Then it seems they seek something within the ice,” Kaliel said. “If that is the case, can we afford to wait them out?”

“Both armies are equally matched,” the Bull said. “They are at a stalemate, and neither side has progressed far into the glacier itself. I am not concerned.”

“Then may I suggest a new tactic?” Ghost asked. “Instead of waiting for one side or the other to find what they seek, why not enter the glacier ourselves to retrieve whatever they hope to recover? If done properly, the demons and ghosts may fall upon each other with renewed fury, each side thinking the other possesses the prize. They may eliminate each other without you raising a single blade against them.”

“Why am I not surprised that you would suggest such a plan?” Kaliel said with a smile.

“You are a thief?” Yurgen asked.

“Among other things,” Ghost replied.

The Bull nodded. “A noble profession.”

“The Unconquered Sun seemed to believe so.”

“He thinks many things. I have heard that you have spent your days gambling with my men – I appreciate that you have chosen not to ply your trade among them.”

Ghost had, in fact, lost a great deal of money in the Icewalker camp. This had been deliberate, in order to build good will.

“I approve of your plan. What do you require from me?” Yurgen asked.

“Simply the right of passage through your encampment,” Kaliel said, “and permission for my own men to make camp within your domain.”

“It will be so,” the Bull said. He then turned his attention to Samea, a clear indication that the audience was at an end. The four Solars walked out of the tent, and made their way back to the edge of the Bull’s army, where the small contingent of Knights were already setting up camp.

۞​

Zanka’s conversations with the Icewalkers who had aided the refugees from Crystal proved less than satisfying. She was gratified to learn that a third to as many as half of her people had escaped the destruction of the city, but none of Kaneko’s Icewalkers had bothered to ask for names or even to recall faces. Thus she had no way of knowing if her family was among those who had lived. Her only hope was to follow the refugees to the Haslanti League, where she would learn the truth.

The wind howled through the narrow gap between the glaciers, sounding like the wail of lost souls as Zanka walked back to their camp. She ignored the many lewd shouts from the Icewalkers as she walked past them, lost in her own thoughts. She wanted to go to the League now, to find out about her family. But she knew that Kaliel and the others would never agree to leave, not with the threat of the demons and ghosts looming so close. And part of her knew that they could not leave as well. The faint memory of the voice of her dreams stayed with her, reassuring her that she was where she needed to be. And somehow, the thought of facing an army of demons or an army of ghosts was not as terrifying to her as she thought it should be.

That night, as they all slept, Zanka was awakened by a faint sound. She held still, straining to hear what had disturbed her slumber. The others slept still, undisturbed.

The wind blowing through the camp moaned and howled, and caused the walls of the tent to vibrate, sounding like the beating of a heart, or someone pounding on the lid of a coffin. Then, faintly, Zanka heard a faint cry through the wind, the sound of someone calling her name.

Ayama awoke when she heard Zanka rise, and Kaliel and Ghost were alerted a moment later when Zanka threw open the door to the tent, letting the freezing air inside.

“I hear you,” Zanka whispered.

Ayama rose and tried to put her arm around Zanka. “Time to return to bed,” she said gently.

Zanka ducked under Ayama’s grasp and walked out into the night, her feet crunching in the snow. The other three quickly threw on furs and followed her.

Ayama was the first to catch up to Zanka, who had already left the edge of the Knight’s camp and was walking southwest. Ayama, her caste mark glowing to give her light to see, ran up and draped another fur around the slender Eclipse.

“I hear you,” Zanka repeated quietly, “I am coming.”

Ayama strained to hear what Zanka was talking to, but heard only the wind.

“Zanka, there is no one out here.”

“It is just a little farther,” Zanka said, waving off her friend. “I can hear them calling my name.”

Suddenly suspicious, Ayama called upon her Essence, giving herself the ability to see into the invisible world of spirits. She squinted as she peered through the dark and the snow being blown by the wind. She caught a glimpse of a form at the edge of her caste mark’s light, a spectral entity that was beckoning Zanka forward, whispering her name.

“Zanka!” Ayama shouted, as Kaliel and Ghost ran up to join them. “You are being lured away by a spirit!”

This news stopped Zanka in her tracks. Ayama pointed in the direction the spirit stood, so that everyone would know where it was in case it decided to manifest and attack.

But a few moments later, Ghost drew the attention of the others. “Rider coming,” he warned, pointing to the west. Ayama noted that the ghost had vanished from her sight.

A single horse appeared out of the gloom as they waited, bearing two riders. The rider in front was hooded, with their hands tied in front of them. The second rider could not be seen behind the first, but had one arm wrapped around the other’s waist, with the reins in their hand. The other arm held a khatar to the hooded figure’s neck.

The horse stopped about twenty yards away, its breath steaming in the cold. The second rider’s head appeared from behind the shoulder of their prisoner. Kaliel hissed as he saw a familiar face, framed by locks of red-brown hair.

“You,” he growled.

“Hello, lover,” said Nine Wounds Laughing, a wicked smile on her face. “And good evening to the rest of you as well.”

“What do you want here?” Kaliel demanded.

“Ironically enough, the same thing as you. I want the armies occupying Crystal to be gone. And you are going to make that happen.”

Kaliel laughed out loud. “And why in Creation do you expect us to help you?”

Her smile widened. “Allow me to show you something.” With that, she jammed the blade of the khatar into the heart of her prisoner, who let out a muffled scream and then slumped forward. Ayama stiffened at the sight of such wanton disregard for life. As blood poured from the wound, a dark gem mounted to Nine Laughing Wound’s gauntlet began to glow with a silvery light.

“You see, my kind have learned many secrets in our time,” she explained. “Including this one.” She passed the hand with the glowing gem over the wound in her prisoner’s heart. The light faded, and the wound stopped bleeding. A second later, the dead prisoner jerked upward, drawing breath again.

“A useful trick,” Nine Laughing Wounds laughed. “Now, you will go north and defeat the general of the demon’s army for me.” She stabbed her prisoner in the heart again, again inflicting a mortal wound. She then lifted the body over her head, and threw it at the four Solars, tearing the hood free. The body rolled to a stop at Kaliel’s feet, and the face of his sister Kalliope stared up at him with lifeless eyes.

Kaliel’s furious glare locked onto Nine Wounds Laughing. “You die tonight!” he roared.

“If I die, then so does she!” the corrupted Solar warned. “She lives only if you do what I want. And you must do it before sunrise, for the soul gem will release her soul once dawn comes.”

Calmly, Ayama bent over and picked up the corpse. “We must get her into shelter, Kaliel.”

Nine Wounds Laughing shrugged. “I doubt she cares about the cold now.”

“Exposure will stiffen her joints and damage her flesh,” Ayama said.

Nodding, Kaliel knelt down and placed his hand on his sister’s already cooling check. “Do not worry, my sister,” Kaliel said. “You will see the dawn.”

He then looked up at Nine Wounds Laughing. “And so will you.”

 

[Faren]

great post! This is a really fun story to read, especially as I'm just now learning how the Exalted system works. I'm glad you took the effort write all this

 

[Delemental]

The five Exalts stared at each other across the snow, the figure of Nine Laughing Wounds casting a garish shadow from the light of the Solar caste marks. One light suddenly swept away, as Ayama turned and began walking back to the camp with the body of Kalliope in her arms.

“Help us,” Zanka said suddenly.

“I will,” Nine Laughing Wounds replied.

“Do I have your promise?”

She laughed. “I know your tricks, Eclipse. I will not agree to such an open-ended promise.”

Kaliel stepped forward, and stated, “Then you will promise to provide you what assistance you can in accomplishing the assassination of the general of the Malfean army currently camped in the northwest of Crystal, as long as no attempts are made by any of us to kill or incapacitate you. You will also refrain from any acts of aggression toward us, and you will, upon the completion of the mission, restore my sisters to me, whole and unharmed. Our alliance will end with sunrise.”

“I noticed that you tried to slip Kassandra into the bargain,” Nine Laughing Wounds said. “I only have the one sister; I have no idea where the other one is. I will agree only to restore Kalliope to you, provided I am physically capable of reaching her before sunrise. This should encourage you to be certain you are not lax in protecting me from harm in the coming battle.” Nine Laughing Wounds smiled wickedly. “And at sunrise, I want a ten second head start.”

“Five seconds,” Kaliel said.

“Very well, five seconds then.” She extended her hand.

“It is done,” Zanka said, her caste mark flaring to life as she grabbed the offered hand. They all felt the power of the Eclipse oathbond take hold in their souls.

Ayama returned a short time later, and was informed of the oath that had been given. The Zenith asked Zanka to return to the camp briefly before they departed, and Kaliel stated that he needed to give instructions to his men and alert the Bull of the North that there would be a disturbance in the demon army tonight. This left Nine Laughing Wounds standing alone with Ghost for several minutes.

“So, I assume that you have a plan in mind,” Ghost said.

“Of course. I will explain it to all of you as we walk.”

“And what of the spectral army? Did you not say you want neither side to emerge victorious?”

“My associate will deal with the other army.” Nine Laughing Wounds looked Ghost up and down. “I notice that you do not address me with the hostility your companions do,” she said. “Could it be that you do not feel the same as they do?”

“Oh, no,” Ghost said, with a smile, “I do believe you are an abomination upon Creation that must be destroyed, make no mistake. But we are under a banner of truce for the moment, and I see no reason why we cannot be civil to one another. We have plenty of time to resume our pursuit and conquest of your kind another day.”

Nine Laughing Wounds stepped up close to Ghost, pressing her mostly nude body against him gently. “There are many kinds of pursuit and conquest,” she said quietly.

“An interesting idea,” Ghost said, “but one I have no wish to discuss at this time.” He hooked one finger under the length of thin chain that connected the steel ring through her collarbone and the smaller bar through her left nipple. “Besides, I think that you and I may have some significant differences in taste.” He gave a quick tug on the chain as he released it, causing Nine Laughing Wounds to hiss in pain and then smile.

“Another time, perhaps,” she said, stepping away as she heard someone approaching.

Once they had all reunited, they set out walking north. “What is your plan?” Kaliel asked.

“Well, I am not planning on carving my way through a horde of demons,” Nine Laughing Wounds said. “I know that this news comes as a disappointment to you, lover.”

“You will cease using that word in my presence,” the Dawn growled.

“I do not like to waste my efforts on lesser creatures,” she continued. “I have learned that their general is the type who leads from the rear. So, while one of my compatriots creates a distraction that will draw the Malfeans onto the field, we will lure the general away and eliminate him.”

“How do you propose we lure a demon general away from his army?” Ayama asked.

“First, he is not a demon,” Nine Laughing Wounds explained. “He is human, or at least appears to be one. I suspect he is an Akuma.”

“I am not familiar with that term,” Ghost said. “What is an Akuma?”

“I believe they are a type of undead,” Kaliel said.

“No,” Nine Laughing Wounds said, shaking her head. “An Akuma is a being that has been given demonic powers.”

“As long as we are on the subject of properly naming things,” Ghost said. “What do they call your kind? It is something we have wanted to know, and I would rather know the proper terms, rather than continuing to make up insulting and juvenile names for you.”

“I have no problem with the insulting names,” Kaliel said.

“The most common name for those like us is deathknight,” Nine Laughing Wounds said.

“And you are Exalted in some way, as we are?” Ghost pressed. “We cannot help but notice that those deathknights we have encountered bear caste marks that mirror ours, though they are formed of bloody wounds.”

“That is correct. We have five castes, reflections of the Solar castes. You have met others like me, but of different castes.”

“Such as the one we know as High Bright Sun,” Kaliel interrupted.

The deathknight frowned. “I am not familiar with that name. You have met a companion of mine, however – I believe he shoved four feet of soulsteel through you, lo… Kaliel.”

“But how exactly…”

The deathknight stepped toward Ghost and placed a finger to his lips. “I think I have answered all the questions about my kind I wish to reveal at this time. And we must be silent now, for we are nearing the sentry lines of the Malfean army.”

The five Exalts moved in silence for the next hour, slipping by the demonic sentinels unseen. As they neared the site that Nine Laughing Wounds had chosen for the ambush, she stopped.

“It is time to prepare to lure the general away,” she said. She then turned to Ghost. “And I will require your help.” She reached back, and seemed to open up a pocket of flesh on her right buttock, withdrawing a small clay jar. She handed it to Ghost; opening it, he saw that it was a purple dye.

“I will disguise myself as a messenger,” she explained. “I will also need to borrow a sharp knife from you. You must spread that dye on my skin.” She smiled. “And be thorough. Leave nothing untouched.”

The deathknight removed what little clothing she wore, and stood nude in the snow as she began cutting away her red hair, shaving herself bald. She seemed unaffected by the frigid cold as she completed her work, and then handed the knife back to Ghost. The other three stood by awkwardly, trying not to watch as Ghost began spreading the purple dye, giving the deathknight a lilac tone to her skin.

“You will pose as a neomah,” Ghost said, understanding her intent. Neomah were minor demons, frequently summoned and used as concubines, due to their general nonviolent natures and their ability to accommodate any type of lover. Though he had not heard of them used for any other purpose by mortal summoners, Ghost could imagine that in the demon realms they might serve other menial tasks.

“Correct,” she said, clearly not displeased with the thoroughness with which Ghost was performing his task. “I will convince him to follow me behind that hill there, to receive a private message from his superiors. That is where you will be waiting. Once he arrives, violence ensues. My companions will have acted by then, so the general’s forces will be in no position to come to his aid.” She spread her arm wide and turned, giving everyone a full view. “Very impressive work, Ghost. You have the hands of an artist.”

They moved into position behind the hill, crouching down in a spot where they would be able to see Nine Laughing Wounds and the general coming, but would be hidden from their view. The deathknight buried her soulsteel fighting chain in the snow, explaining that neomah did not carry weapons. As she sauntered away to play out her role, Kaliel pulled Ghost aside.

“I am not comfortable with the way you are associating with her,” Kaliel grumbled. “She is dangerous.”

“Of course she is,” Ghost replied. “I know the games she plays, Kaliel. But right now I am the only one of us who has not been openly hostile toward her. I do not deny that we all have the right to be hostile toward her, especially you, but at the same time she is only one among many of an enemy we know nothing about. As long as she wants to play this game, she is a potential source of information about these deathknights.”

“Just be certain she is not exploiting you for the same thing.”

“Please. What secrets can she learn from me? It is already clear that what she knows of us far outweighs what we know of her. And she is under no illusion that I consider her anything other than an enemy, as do the rest of you. I consider it worth the risk.” Ghost looked across the snow, where Nine Laughing Wounds’ lilac body had just vanished over the crest of the hill. “I have to admit, however, that it is not an altogether unpalatable task. Her wickedness aside, she is quite attractive.”

“I preferred her as a blonde,” Kaliel sniffed. He changed topics as he saw Ayama and Zanka approach. “I also wonder if you have considered that this could be a trap meant for us, not for this Malfean general.”

“Possibly,” Ghost conceded, “though she would not have to concoct such an elaborate ruse to do that. Simply showing up at the edge of camp with your sister’s body would have been enough to set you on her trail, and likely the rest of us as well.”

“I believe we are still considered not important enough to warrant such an effort to eliminate us,” Ayama stated.

“Quiet,” Ghost said suddenly, cupping his hand to his ear. “She has found the general.”

The four Solars moved into their hiding places and crouched down, waiting. Ghost, his hearing amplified by Essence, could make out as Nine Laughing Wounds informed the general that a messenger from Malfeas was awaiting him beyond the hillside, to deliver instructions meant only for him. The general snorted in annoyance, then told the ‘neomah’ to show him the place. A moment later, two figures appeared over the hill; Nine Laughing Wounds, in her neomah disguise, and a large man. The man looked like a typical Northerner, with close-cropped blonde hair. The armor he wore seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, like heat rising off desert sands.

As they began their descent, Ghost and Kaliel noticed a small flash of greenish light a short distance away, behind another hill. A few seconds later, two beings emerged from behind the hill, walking toward the demon encampment. One was a large man, or man-like being; his entire body and head from the waist up was swathed in a long brown scarf, and two glowing points of green light appeared where his eyes should be. He was both taller and broader than the Malfean general, and wore heavy gauntlets and boots made of bronze. Next to him was a creature that looked something like a lion carved from green jade, but the proportions of the body were wrong, and instead of a mane it sprouted a mass of tentacles from its head. A dark gem was embedded in its forehead. Upon seeing it, Ayama was able to identify it as a teodozjia, though she could not recall what purpose the demon served. She also realized that she felt an inexplicable animosity toward it.

The wrapped man and the teodozjia walked around the hill, and soon they were at the place where Nine Laughing Wounds had led the general, still several yards away from the arranged ambush position. The general and the wrapped man regarded each other coldly for several seconds, engaged in some sort of contest of wills. It was clear that Nine Laughing Wounds had not expected these new arrivals, but she managed not to betray her surprise. Finally, the Malfean general bowed his head slightly. A distance away, Kaliel reached down into the snow and picked up the deathknight’s fighting chain.

“You have summoned me here, Tiaka?” the demon general said at last.

“I have not,” the scarf-wrapped man replied. “Not yet.”

A frown crossed the general’s face. “But your herald…”

“I would send no herald for this!” Tiaka said angrily. He looked over at Nine Wounds Laughing, noticing her for the first time. The green glowing eyes widened.

“That is no neomah,” he said.

At that moment, Ghost’s golden typhoon wheel sliced through the air, cutting into the shoulder of Tiaka. Blood sprayed onto the snow, but the wrappings covering the man seemed to whip away like tendrils of smoke, and then reform over the wound.

A great shout echoed in the air as Kaliel began to charge forward. The teodozjia quickly turned and leapt away, going to meet Kaliel in the middle of the field at an incredibly fast rate. Kaliel pulled a small hatchet from his belt as he ran, and spun around and whipped it at the demon-lion’s head. The weapon bounced off, barely noticed, as the teodozjia leapt into the air. Kaliel brought Principle of Severity across its underbelly, blocking the impact of the demon’s blow. Behind him, Zanka moved forward to within a few feet of the battle, moving slowly and quietly so as not to attract attention to herself.

Back on the hillside, Tiaka roared and brought his arms up in a triumphant pose. He quickly began to grow even larger, growing about six inches taller and becoming even more massively muscled than he was before. He began to run forward, heading for Kaliel and the teodozjia. The Malfean general turned to face Nine Laughing Wounds, who now looked truly concerned. The air around the general shimmered for a moment, much like his armor.

Ghost ran forward, snatching the soulsteel chain out of Kaliel’s free hand as he battled the demon, and then leapt into the air, crossing the intervening yards as he whirled the weapon over his head. He landed on the hillside above the general and the deathknight, sweeping the chain down and spraying snow into the air, temporarily blinding the general. He then tossed the chain to Nine Laughing Wounds, who leapt up and caught it. Ghost saw that air around the general was still slightly hazy, and noticed that the spraying snow had not actually touched him, but had struck an invisible barrier surrounding the Malfean.

Ayama, who had been circling around to try and flank the battle, now stood on another part of the hillside, looking down at the wide-ranging battle. Her Zenith caste mark suddenly flared to life, and she spoke calmly.

“Unclean thing, come and meet your end.”

The head of the teodozjia suddenly whipped around, and it growled when it saw Ayama standing on the hillside, her caste mark burning and surrounded by the anima display of two blue winged snakes entwined around the symbol of the Unconquered Sun. The jade lion’s eyes flared green, and black lightning began to surround the creature, which surged across the snowy field and struck at the snakes, as though trying to destroy them. Kaliel stepped forward as the teodozjia tried to move away.

“You will pay attention to me!” he shouted, bringing his daiklaive around in an arc and slamming into the demon’s midsection. Shards of corrupted jade sprayed across the snow as the blade connected, but it was able to twist away enough to avoid the worst of the blow. The teodozjia began to lope away toward Ayama, but as Kaliel tried to follow, he was intercepted by the hulking form of Tiaka. Zanka also leapt out of the snow at the demon, slicing at it with her war fans, but only managed to slice off the end of its jade tail as it bounded off.

Nine Wounds Laughing snapped her chain around in an whirling arc so fast it was impossible to see, and the soulsteel screamed with a sound like a man choking to death on his own blood. She attempted to slice into the general’s neck with the wicked barbed hooks on the ends, but her weapon was deflected by the invisible field surrounding him, causing no harm and dropping limp into the snow. Ghost threw the Left Eye of Mars at him next, hoping to find some way to bypass the field by striking from multiple angles. The spinning orichalcum disc struck the shield, skittering around in midair like a wasp darting at its target. Ghost saw the general moving his hands, seeming to shift the shield around to meet his weapon, and then suddenly the typhoon wheel dropped into the snow, inert. Ghost jumped back out of the way as the deathknight rushed forward again.

Kaliel and Tiaka squared off, the Dawn’s anima beginning to flare brightly as he summoned Essence. He beckoned toward the hulking figure before him, daring him to approach. Howling, Tiaka charged in, simply trying to crush his enemy in his huge arms. The wings of Kaliel’s anima totem emerged, and seemed to slap away the man’s hands as the Dawn brought his daiklaive around to parry the attack. He then made a series of rapid cuts, his ethereal wings following the motion of the blade so that it appeared that the wingtips themselves were cutting and slicing at his foe. Tiaka attempted to bat aside Principle of Severity with his bronze gauntlets, but he could not keep up, and blood sprayed across the snow as Kaliel tore deep gashes through the man’s midsection, chest, and neck, and sliced away a piece of his left thigh the size of Kaliel’s forearm, exposing the bone underneath. The wounds would have felled any other being in Creation, but somehow Tiaka still stood, his wrappings flowing back to cover up the horrific wounds. A symbol of green light appeared on Tiaka’s forehead, the image of two crossed scimitars, and an aura of his own appeared, looking like a green sun rising from just behind his head. The bandaged man laughed, and kept advancing on Kaliel.

The teodozjia leapt at Ayama, attempting to take her head off with a swipe of a claw, but Ayama simply fell over onto the snow, and raised a foot to catch the demon in the chest, stopping its leap short. She then kicked it in the head with her other foot, sending it flying back down the hill. As the Zenith and the demon circled each other, the serpents in Ayama’s anima were lunging and snapping at the black bolts of lightning emitted by the demon’s aura. The demon hissed as the power of the Unconquered Sun burned its unholy flesh.

Nine Laughing Wounds had shifted her soulsteel chain into both hands, spinning both ends around and striking repeatedly at the general, but unable to get past his shield. The general waved his hand at the deathknight with a dismissive gesture, and she was struck by an unseen blow that sent her staggering back, leaving a red welt on her cheek. The injury was not serious, and Ghost was surprised to see that she looked slightly disappointed by this.

“Come now, general,” she mocked, “you can do better than that. Do you not want to hurt me?”

Ghost remembered Kaliel’s account of his first meeting with the deathknight in the deep forests of the East, and her unusual style of fighting. As Nine Laughing Wounds squared off against the general again, Ghost ran up behind her, leaping into the air as he drew his Chiaroscuro boomerangs. He landed atop the deathknight’s shoulders, pushing off hard as he launched himself into the air and over the head of the general. He heard the snap as her shoulder dislocated, and she cried out in pain and ecstasy. He threw a boomerang as he flipped over in midair, aiming for the general’s midesection, even as the deathknight, invigorated by the pain, pressed her own attack. Moments before the boomerang struck, the general’s shimmering armor pulsed, and literally pulled the man’s entrails aside, allowing the weapon to sail through a gaping hole in his stomach. The armor pulsed again, and everything was shoved back into place. A green caste mark similar to Tiaka’s appeared on the general’s head, but his resembled an hourglass.

“Seven spirits below!” Ghost swore. “What kind of thing are you?”

 

[Delemental]

Sigh. Once again, more time has passed between updates than I wanted.

-----------------------------------

A beam of light lanced out of Ayama’s caste mark, striking the teodozjia in the head as her very nature rebelled against the presence of this unnatural creature. The demon-cat howled, and tried to swipe at the hated Zenith with a rapid flurry of claws, but Ayama deftly avoided them all. She leapt atop the jade lion’s back, bringing both fists down on the back of its neck. Her anima serpents had coiled around the teodozjia’s torso, constricting, and though they were made only of light the demon seemed to react as though they were real, writhing as they squeezed. It seemed as though the demon’s struggles would soon cease, but then, suddenly, its head twisted around, and it summoned up strength and power from some unknown depths. The black lightning crackled from the dark gem mounted on the demon’s head, striking the winged serpents and sending them reeling into the sky, while a larger black bolt blasted into the center of Ayama’s caste mark. As the foul energies touched her, Ayama heard a litany being recited in her mind…

People, and even the Exalted, die. Mountains crumble. Even worlds do not live forever. Knowing these things, and wishing to guide the mortals afflicted with their terrible condition, the Yozis had the Teodozjia created, to carry their message into the world.
The Teodozjia transcend mortality. They have no existence independent from their scripture. They share one mind and one memory. If killed, they arise again from their mother, Zsofika. If held captive for more than a year and a day, they dissipate into mist.
The Lions Sent Into the World know no death. They know no pain, for they have only one care: the Scripture of the Teodozjia. They know no sorrow, for this scripture never dies. So must humans be: They must abandon their petty cares for mortal things and, thus, become immortal. They must forget the things of the world and the fire in their hearts and join the Teodozjia in celebration of eternity.
So ends the Scripture of the Teodozjia.

Ayama felt her body wracked with pain, felt her consciousness fading as the overwhelming evil of the demon’s presence assaulted her soul. Then she saw the lion head lunge toward her, jaws wide, and felt a burning lance of pain…

Tiaka slammed his fists into Kaliel’s chest, sending the Solar flying back several feet, leaving a furrow in the snow. He recovered and rushed forward, slicing at the demonic man with Principle of Severity, tearing free another large chunk of flesh. Kaliel could see exposed bone in several places now, and most of the man’s viscera had dropped into the snow some time back, but still the abomination kept coming. As Kaliel pressed the attack, wondering how to fell such a foe, he saw a small white shape fly out and launch itself toward Tiaka. Zanka spun gracefully past the bandaged man, slashing at his legs with her war fans. Tendons snapped like the string of a kite, but still he kept coming, hobbling on ruined legs.

Not far away, the soulsteel chain of Nine Wounds Laughing whipped out, finally connecting with the general and breaking his nose. With blood pouring from his face, the general threw a hand out and gestured at the deathknight, and a blast of fine sand shot out of his palm, with enough force to shred flesh from bone. Nine Wounds Laughing was barely able to spin out of the way in time to avoid the scouring blast. She flicked her chain out as she dodged, catching Ghost’s typhoon wheel with one of the hooks and flipping it up into the air, where he easily caught it. The general, no longer confident in the infallibility of his defenses, turned and began to run up the hill, hoping to rejoin his army, even though the sounds of a terrible battle could be heard coming from over the crest of the hill.

Ghost glanced back as he prepared to attack again, and saw Ayama go limp in the teodozjia’s jaws, her anima suddenly dissipating. The demon cat dropped her roughly into the snow, and roared in triumph. Blood stained the snow crimson. Several yards away, both Kaliel and Zanka were too involved in their battle with Tiaka to have noticed their fallen companion. A cold fear coursed through Ghost’s spine.

The Night caste Solar ran a few paces and dove into the snow, vanishing as he ‘swam’ under the surface. He suddenly surged upward, leaping into the air several yards, the Left Eye of Mars in one hand and a boomerang in the other.

“You are not permitted to claim victory!” he shouted, as he threw both weapons.

The golden typhoon wheel sliced into the Malfean general’s back, causing him to cry out and stumble. The delay was all that Nine Laughing Wounds needed to catch up to him, swinging her chain around in a blurred arc than crushed his skull in. The boomerang sailed toward the teodozjia, and buried itself in the back of its skull, killing it before it could rip open Ayama’s entrails.

Kaliel and Zanka had been relentless in their assault on Tiaka, and had managed to fend off the worst of the green-eyed monstrosity’s attacks, even though both were reaching the limits of their endurance and had depleted almost all of their Essence.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Kaliel set himself and made a furious series of cuts. “You are done!” he roared, accentuating each word with a cut from Principle of Severity.

The top half of Tiaka’s skull was sliced off, and several ribs were shattered, but still he came.

Zanka leapt in next, looking as though she were dancing around her enshrouded opponent rather than fighting him. But each spin was accompanied by the flash of a war fan, each sweep of her cloak concealed a lightning fast strike with a hidden blade.

There was little left of Tiaka but a bloody skeleton trailing ragged bits of flesh and muscle, dragging what remained of his entrails behind him. But still he came.

The Left Eye of Mars came flying out of the darkness, slicing Tiaka across the back of the knees and severing the tendons holding his legs together. The hulking monster fell to the snow, still trying to drag itself forward to attack, as Kaliel stepped forward and decapitated him. The body collapsed, still at last, and the burning green sun behind him vanished.

They stood for a moment, catching their breath. Then they noticed that Ghost had run over to where Ayama had been battling the demon, and was shouting at them.

“Go and see what is wrong,” Kaliel said. “I need to keep an eye on Nine Wounds Laughing.”

He jogged over to where the deathknight was crouched over the Malfean general, who still lived despite his injuries. Her incisors had lengthened until she looked like some sort of wild beast, and she had used them to punch holes in the throat of the general, and was now sucking his blood out. Kaliel saw the general's ragged breaths steaming in the cold, but watched as the mist curled around and was drawn into Nine Laughing Wound’s nostrils. As she fed, her form shifted and warped as she took on a new shape. When Kaliel grabbed her by the arm and lifted her off the general’s body, she looked exactly like him.

“This could be useful later,” she said, with a bloody grin.

“We do not have time for this,” Kaliel snapped. “Cease your posturing.”

“Very well,” she said, shifting back to her usual form.

They walked over to where Ghost and Zanka were attending to Ayama, who looked on the verge of death. They had bound her wounds, but it seemed to do little good; she had lost so much blood that there was little left to hold inside. “Is there anything we can do for her?” Kaliel asked.

“Unless she knows something of healing,” Zanka said, pointing at the deathknight, “then she is beyond our skills to save. She will not last long.”

Nine Wounds Laughing looked at Ayama’s still form. “You do not want me to attempt to revive her,” she said.

“There are healers at the Bull’s encampment,” Kaliel said. “Perhaps they can save her.”

“We cannot get her there in time,” Ghost said.

“We cannot,” the Dawn said, “but you can. You can travel faster than us. Take her, and go.”

Ghost paled, but he nodded as he looked down at Ayama. He bent over and picked the Zenith up gently, holding her tightly against him as he turned and began running off the way they had come, running and leaping across the snow.

The others began to make their way back as well. A minute after they departed, they all saw a dome of purple light suddenly fill the sky over the encampment of the demon army, a silent explosion of Essence.

“And that will take care of the rest of the two armies,” Nine Wounds Laughing said. “My companion is so reliable with matters such as these.”

“Does that mean that my home is free?” Zanka asked.

“Possibly. There could have been a few survivors on either side. Of course, that does not account for what may arrive in the next few months – I am almost certain that a shadowland will be the result of our efforts here tonight.”

“A shadowland?” Zanka repeated, horrified. “You have created a shadowland in Crystal?”

“We will find a way to eliminate it,” Kaliel said, trying to reassure her. But Nine Wounds Laughing chuckled.

“There is no way to do such a thing,” she said.

“I wish to hear nothing more from you,” Kaliel snapped. “We have completed the task you asked of us; I expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain as quickly as possible.”

“So, you wish for me to restore Kalliope’s soul as soon as I am able?”

“Yes, of course.”

The deathknight smiled. “Very well.” She crouched down, concentrated for a moment, and then leapt into the air, suddenly vanishing in a pulse of necrotic Essence.

Kaliel looked at the spot where she had just been standing, the snow beneath now a sickly gray. “Damn. But there will be nowhere you can run to when the time comes.”

۞​

Panic filled Ghost as he carried Ayama back to the camp. He moved as fast as he could, each Essence-fueled leap crossing dozens of yards at a time, but still he feared it would not be enough. He wished he did not have to bear this burden alone.

He arrived at the farthest picket lines of Kaneko’s army. Not surprisingly, a large number of people had gathered there, no doubt having witnessed the enormous anima display in the sky, and seeing his own monkey totem approaching at rapid speed, leaping and gamboling in midair. In the midst of the mob stood Yurgen Kaneko and Samea; behind them stood three others, whose faces were unknown to Ghost. One appeared to be a soldier of some sort, another was dressed as a courtesan. The one between them was older, and bore the trappings of a sage. Curiously, Ghost found it difficult to pick out distinguishing characteristics of any of the three, and as soon as he moved his eyes away, what few details he had seen seemed to slip away.

The Nightbringer did not wait to identify himself to the sentries, but simply jumped over them and landed at the Bull’s feet. “I require your best healers,” Ghost said.

“They can do nothing for her,” the Bull said, looking down at her. “Save give her the mercy of ending her pain.”

“No!” Ghost shouted, his caste mark flaring up again. “I do not accept that!” He looked over at the three strangers. “You there, sage! Do you know anything of healing?”

The old man, looking somewhat startled at being addressed directly, looked at Ayama. “Perhaps,” he said at last, “Bring her to the healer’s tent. And you will tell us exactly what transpired here this evening as we walk.”

Ghost followed the three strangers into the Bull’s camp, relating the story to them of Nine Wounds Laughing and her assassination plot. The three strangers took in the information, asking few questions, but quietly arguing between themselves.

They arrived at the tent, and Ghost laid Ayama’s body down on the table. “I have done as you have asked,” he said. “Will you heal her now?”

“This is not why we have come here,” the sage said. “We have larger concerns, and this is incidental. I am not convinced that we should intervene in her Fate.”

“Save her,” urged the courtesan. “Look upon her face. She is a true reflection of who she once was. Recall that her previous incarnation never succumbed to the madness. She will remain similarly untainted, and must be permitted to live and fulfill her destiny. Look at the good she once did, and can still do, for Creation.”

“Nonsense!” barked the soldier. “They all fall – it is only a matter of time. We have seen the evidence ourselves. That her madness was more subtle than that of the others does not mean it was any less destructive in the end. We waste our time in considering this; we have larger concerns than the life of one.”

Ghost glared at the three beings before him. “I do not know who you are,” he said slowly, “nor do I care. I know that what has happened here tonight troubles you, and that you are here to address that in some way. But if you wish our assistance in that effort, then Ayama will need to stand with us.” He stared the sage directly in the eyes, so as not to lose focus on him as his exhausted mind had been doing. “Somehow, you know of us and who we once were. I do not care how you have come by this knowledge. But consider this; perhaps the only thing that might have kept us from doing the things that we did, perhaps the only thing that will keep us from repeating those mistakes now, is if the right person, at the right moment, had provided enough compassion to extend a little bit of faith and trust that we can be better.”

The sage stood silently, looking at the floor as he pondered Ghost’s words. Finally, he raised his head. “Leave us,” he said.

Slowly, the healers and others in the tent filed out. The sage looked at the courtesan and the soldier. “And you as well.”

When his companions had departed, the sage looked at Ghost. “I was not there to witness what happened to you,” he said, “and so I cannot say whether or not you are right. I also cannot say whether what was done to you was right or not. But I can see how things have become because of it. Perhaps, this time, it will be different.”

The sage took up his gnarled wooden staff in both hands, and began slamming it into Ayama’s body. Ghost was filled with the urge to intervene, but was somehow transfixed, watching as the sage struck the body over and over again. Slowly, Ghost began to see that the sage was not simply bludgeoning her to death, but was making precise strikes, using a form of martial arts he had never seen before. He watched in fascination as each blow fell; the strike left bruises and minor cuts, as would be expected, but he noticed that each strike seemed to close up a wound, or reset a dislocated joint. It was as if Ayama were made of clay, and he was using the staff to beat her back into her proper shape.

After several minutes, the sage stepped back, clearly taxed by his efforts. Ayama lay on the table, looking bruised and swollen in many places, but her wounds were closed, the color had returned to her face, and her breathing was slow and deep.

“She will require rest,” the sage said. “But she will heal quickly.” He looked sternly at Ghost. “What I have done here tonight was more significant a boon than you could realize, young Solar. I will call upon you perform a task for me one day.”

“I will honor my debt to you,” Ghost said.

The sage turned to go, but then stopped. “One more thing,” he said without turning around again. “There is something important that you should make sure everyone knows…”

A few minutes later, Samea came rushing into the healer’s tent, a large book in her arms. “I believe I may be able to summon a demon that can help,” she said, but then stopped when she saw that the tent was empty, save for Ghost and Ayama. Looking down at her fellow Zenith, Samea was startled to see that her grievous wounds had vanished, and she had somehow slipped away from death’s door unscathed.

“I do not suppose you can explain this,” Samea said, dumbfounded.

“No,” Ghost said. He found he was having difficulty remembering much at all about the past several minutes, other than…

“I have a message,” he said. “It is important that it be spread as quickly as possible to your army.”

“What is the message?” Samea asked.

“That the city of Crystal will be moving ten miles to the West.” He paused for a moment, then laughed to himself. “And that, dear Samea, is not even close to the strangest thing I have experienced this day.”

۞​

Kaliel ran toward his camp. The first rays of dawn were already shining across the snow, throwing long shadows. He registered barely the fact that the Bull of the North’s encampment appeared to be preparing to pull up and move, though he was not sure why.

No one challenged him as he ran into the camp, heading straight for his tent. He burst through the door, nearly taking out the support poles.

Kalliope was sitting up in bed, looking shaken but very much alive. “Brother?” she gasped.

“Sister!” He rushed forward, dropping to his knees and embracing Kalliope as tightly as he dared. She sobbed as she clung to him, crying out, “you saved me, brother! Thank you!”

“You are safe, little sister,” he said, “and you are home.”

“I was so afraid!” she whispered. “After the man left the tent, I was all alone…”

Kaliel looked at Kalliope. “What man?”

“A large man, with short blonde hair. He was here when I awoke, and said he had a message for you.”

Kaliel recognized the description as that of the Malfean general they had just slain, and knew who had really been at Kalliope’s side when she was revived. “What is the message?”

“He said, ‘I repay my debts’. What did he mean?”

“It is not your concern,” Kaliel said. “Rest now. You are safe. You are home.”

 

[Delemental]

How about a double update to make up for lost time?

-----------------------------------------------

Ayama’s eyelids fluttered open; it took her a few moments to realize that she was laying atop a cot inside a large tent; it took less time to realize that she hurt almost everywhere. Slowly, she turned her head, and saw Ghost sitting nearby.

“I have heard,” he said to her, “that healers are among the worst patients in Creation. So my question is, will you be good and allow yourself to rest and recover, or should I ask them to bring in some leather straps to tie you down?”

“Is anyone else hurt?” she asked.

“Not enough to concern you.”

“Then I will remain here for now.” She lifted her arms and legs slowly, testing the extent of her injuries. “I am curious as to what happened to me, as I recall my injuries being much worse when I received them.”

“You were close to death,” Ghost admitted. “But then something… unusual happened.”

Ayama’s brow rose, prompting Ghost to continue. “I carried you here, in hopes that the Bull’s healers could save you, but they claimed that you were beyond hope. But there were three strangers here as well, not part of Kaneko’s army…” he shook his head. “I must confess that I remember little about them, other than there were two men and a woman. They asked questions about what we had been doing, and I had the impression that they were here because of it. I appealed to them to help you, and one of them agreed. He used his walking staff, and – I have no better words for it – he beat you back to health. It was as though each blow sealed up one of your grievous wounds, leaving only bruises. The same man also said that Crystal would be moving ten miles West.”

Ayama was silent for a moment. “I am not going to ask how,” she said, “but I am curious why it is moving.”

“I am not certain. There was a large explosion of energy in the city when I was bringing you here. Perhaps it has something to do with that. Kaliel and Zanka may know more.”

“Kalliope?”

“Is alive, according to the message that Kaliel sent. I know nothing more, though I assume that Nine Wounds Laughing is long gone.”

A sudden loud rumbling interrupted their conversation. They both got up and went to investigate, Ayama walking slowly out of the tent. Far to the North, where the excavations were taking place, a plume of white was rising into the air. Enormous slabs of ice were tumbling down off the face of the glacier, burying the various tunnels under thousands of tons of debris.

“That will make it considerably more difficult to investigate what was in there,” Kaliel said, walking up behind Ghost and Ayama.

“And I had wanted to see what would compel two armies to come and destroy my home,” Zanka said. In response, Kaliel reached over and picked up a shovel that was leaning on a crate nearby, and handed it to the Eclipse. Zanka tossed the shovel aside, making a rude gesture at Kailel.

“You are looking better,” Kaliel said to Ayama. “Much better than I expected.” He loked at Ghost. “How did you do this?”

“Secret Night Caste techniques,” he said with a grin.

Kaliel snorted. “Seriously.”

Ghost related the tale of the three strangers and the unusual methods used to heal Ayama. He also relayed the message about Crystal moving. As he had done with Ayama earlier, Ghost did not mention that a debt was owed for healing Ayama; he hoped that once the debt became due, he would be able to repay it without involving the others, since they had been given no say in the matter.

“I had wondered why the Bull was preparing to leave so swiftly,” Kaliel said.

“It is probably being moved to get away from the shadowland,” Zanka said.

“Shadowland?” Ayama asked.

“The result of the efforts of Nine Laughing Wounds’ allies to eliminate the two armies,” Zanka said. “The deathknight mentioned it before she escaped.”

“That is quite the price to pay for her assistance,” Ayama said sadly.

“I would say it was more of an unintended consequence, if not unwelcome for her,” Ghost said. “But it seems that it will not affect the city itself.” Ghost turned to Kaliel. “So she escaped? I thought that she was a little too comfortable with your five-second head start to not have something planned.”

“She seemed to simply vanish into shadow,” Kaliel said. “I did not even see her move.”

“Sorcery, perhaps,” Ghost said, “or some deathknight ability.”

“How is Kalliope?” Ayama asked.

“Calm now,” Kaliel said. “But I expect it will be some time before she has recovered enough to talk about what happened to her. I have already made plans for her to be escorted back to Chrysanthemum with my troops. Rutendo has offered to accompany them to make the journey easier.”

“I doubt the Bull will remain here much longer, either,” Ayama said. “With the threat gone, I would guess that he will stay long enough to eliminate any lingering demons or undead, and then return to his main army.”

“I see no reason for us to remain, either,” Ghost added. “I say that as soon as Ayama has recovered and Kalliope is safely on her way, we should journey into the Haslanti League to find out what became of Crystal’s people.”

Both women recovered faster than had been expected. Within a few days, Kalliope had been able to tell them about the lives of her and her sister Kassandra over the past three years. She related how they had been held at the House V’Neef estate as ‘honored prisoners’, and had been cared for fairly well and even educated in the manner of any other Imperial dynast.

“A woman came in the dead of night, several months ago,” Kalliope said, with a shiver. “A woman with red hair, with a fighting chain. She killed everyone in the house, and took me with her off the island. She has been keeping me alive ever since, traveling North, until the other night when she bound and gagged me, and rode out to meet you. And then she…” she trailed off.

“Do you know what happened to Kassandra?” Kaliel asked. She shook her head.

“She was alive when I was taken. That is all I know.”

“She may still be with the V’Neef,” Zanka said. “Though probably under heavier guard.”

“She may have been moved as well,” Ghost observed, “and that assumes that it was the V’Neef who first arrived on the scene after Nine Laughing Wounds attacked. It seems that until we can locate a reliable source of information, Kassandra’s fate will remain unknown.”

The four Solars made preparations to leave as soon as Kalliope was on her way back home with the Knights and Rutendo. Kaliel and Zanka attempted to meet with Yurgen Kaneko to negotiate a formal agreement of non-aggression toward Chrysanthemum and Lagan, hoping to take advantage of a rare opportunity to deal directly with the infamous Northern warlord. But the Bull of the North was too mired in trying to mobilize his army to meet for more than a few minutes. He did, however, agree to meet in the future on the subject, which was at least somewhat reassuring.

The night before they left, Zanka found herself having an unusual dream, one in which she was not entirely certain she was asleep. In her dream, she felt herself rise from bed and begin walking out onto the snow, heading southeast toward the edge of the glacier. When she arrived, she found herself climbing up a set of steps carved into the ice, nearly invisible unless one knew they were there. As she felt herself rising, experiencing what felt half like a dream and half a memory, she saw a spire jutting out from the top of the glacier, again placed in such a way that if one were not on the stairs, it would be undetectable.

She reached the top of the glacier, and began walking along a set of spiral stairs carved into the spire. At the top was a large, throne-like chair, seemingly carved of ice. Zanka felt herself sitting down in the chair, and remained in that pose for the next several hours, seemingly doing nothing but watching Creation unfurl beneath her.

When she awoke, Zanka found herself sitting in that very chair, the wind whipping around her, with something hard and angular under her. Her descent was much slower and less sure than her ascent.

She rushed into the tent just as the others were waking. “Look!” she cried. She thrust an object forward, that looked like a cube-shaped crystal the size of her palm, refracting a myriad of colors inside the facets.

“The three strangers that helped Ayama came to me last night. They showed me a secret way into the glacier, and told me that this is what the demons and ghosts sought!”

“What is it?” Ghost asked.

“It is the Eye of Autochthon, of course,” Zanka said proudly.

“But… it is square.”

“Who said the eye of a Primordial had to be round?” Zanka retorted.

“I thought the Eye was lost in the deserts of the South,” Kaliel said.

“Clearly, misinformation spread to deter those who seek the Eye.”

Ayama looked at the cube closely. “Zanka, dearest,” she said. “That is not the Eye of Autochthon. It is a hearthstone. Air aspected, I would guess.”

Zanka smiled. “I know. But for a moment, I had you wondering, did I not?”

After Zanka explained the true story of how she had come upon the hearthstone and the manse hidden in the glacier, they departed Crystal. They ended up walking southwest, following the edge of the great Northern Glacier as it made its way toward the White Sea. Fortune was with them, for the first large city they came across once crossing into the lands of the Haslanti League was Windcreche, and it was there that they found the survivors of Crystal.

Only a little more than a third of the population had survived; half had not made it out of the city at all, with the rest succumbing to their injuries or the elements as they fled. To Zanka’s surprise and delight, she found that her own family was among the survivors, and she had a joyous reunion with her Matre, and her two younger siblings, Jonu and Broedst. There was some initial confusion when Zanka introduced her circle-mates, and she was referred to by the name ‘Zanka’ by her friends, and as ‘Berta’ by her family. Eventually, she was able to explain her decision to change her name, and her family began using her new name.

What made the reunion somewhat uncomfortable was Zanka’s insistence that none of them reveal that they were Solars. “I will tell them the truth soon,” she promised, “but now is not the time. They have had too much grief.” So they each kept their silence, and allowed Zanka her time with her family.

The joy of the reunion was marked by sadness – for Zanka’s grandmother, her Oomatre, was not long for the world, despite having survived for years in the harsh winters of the North and the exodus from Crystal. She passed only a week after Zanka had arrived in Windcreche, and a traditional wake was held for her, as family and friends gathered in a large pavilion tent away from the city. There, the flesh was stripped from Oomatre’s bones with ceremonial knives, and laid out on the snow as an offering to the spirits of the land who had allowed her to live her full measure of life. Her bones were ground and mixed with flour by those who had prepared the body, and as tradition held, none were permitted to wash the blood from their hands, as a sign of respect to the departed.

That night, the funereal feast was held, beginning with the ceremonial sharing of the bread made from the bones of the departed. Zanka spent most of the night with her family, telling stories of Oomatre’s life as they drank mead and ale and ate platters of roasted caribou. Eventually, however, she made her way to where her friends sat.

“I know that there is no reason for any of you to remain in Windcreche,” she began, her pink-stained hands standing out in sharp contrast on her normally alabaster skin, “but I feel I must remain here for a time. Though my people never fully accepted the teachings of the Immaculate Philosophy, their beliefs have been altered by the presence of the Order for so many years. I must help them to realize the truth, and help them prepare to return to Crystal. My people have already made an appeal to the Haslanti League, and they have offered assistance in resettling Crystal – and in helping to better defend it.”

“Will you be returning to Crystal with them?” Kaliel asked.

“No. As much as I would like to stay with my family, it is not where my talents can be put to their best use.”

“We had been discussing this subject ourselves,” Ayama said. “I would very much like to continue to offer my services as a healer within the League, and learn the techniques used in this region. I have had the opportunity to minister to some of the airship pilots stationed here, who have been engaged in testing some new developments in aerial technology. Tending to wounds sustained from falling from great heights has proved both challenging and informative.”

“And I would like to begin recruiting more soldiers into the Knights, and negotiating some new contracts now that our arrangement with Lagan has ended,” Kaliel said. “I am also interested in beginning some specialized training in the use of mammoths in warfare.”

“I find myself ready to gain a greater understanding of my connection to my Essence,” Ghost said, “which is something I feel I must do alone.”

“The point is that each of us seeks to pursue different goals, none of which are easily accomplished if we remain together,” Ayama said. “We have been discussing a plan to separate, and meet together again in a few month’s time.”

“I would agree with that,” Zanka said. “What do you propose?”

“I suggest that we meet again on the first day of Ascending Air,” Ayama said, “after Calibration. We can meet in Chrysanthemum again.”

“Then I would offer a toast,” Zanka said. She picked up a flagon of wine from the table, and held it aloft. “For those we have met, we give thanks. For those we will meet again, we give thanks. For those we have yet to meet, we give thanks. And to those who we will never meet again, we also give thanks.”

The four Solars raised their cups, repeating the litany, and drank. They then wandered outside to where a bonfire had been constructed, and watched in silence as the flames chased away the spirits of the dark.