Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 339
Another One Comes Home to Roost
Of course, the Company presses Aravis about what he learned in the Tomb of Leantha.
“I could only learn what she chose to tell me. If I had tried to learn everything I could, it would have killed me.”
“So what did you learn?” Morningstar asks impatiently.
“Nothing. Yet.”
“Everything in due course,” Grey Wolf mutters.
“What I asked was, how do we defeat the Adversary? She told me I may receive an answer.”
/*/
Leaving Naslund is actually a simple matter; the ritual is short and uncomplicated, though it requires a handful of sand from inside the amethyst tower. The Company gathers the bodies of Cencerra’s group, along with the Dwarven smith, and Aravis performs the ritual. (As he does so, Dranko scrawls a quick note to leave behind: ‘Hi! You’re kind of stuck here, maybe forever, because there’s no good way for a non-God to leave. Sorry? Good luck! -Dranko.’)
When Aravis tosses the handful of sand through the gartine arch, it flashes to an opaque red. The party steps through, and they find themselves at the bottom of the Downward Spiral. They have escaped Naslund intact, and are now in possession not only of two legendary weapons, but also of a powerful Ward of Drosh, which will allow them to survive in the presence of even a powerful Divine Being. The mood is generally celebratory, but Morningstar is not smiling.
She’s staring down at her hand as if she’s never seen it before. Specifically, she’s staring at the blood-mark left there years ago by the winged ogre calling himself the Great One. Her hand itches furiously; it seems that her long-awaited destiny as “The Slayer” may be upon her!
But before she can say anything about it to the others, Ernie turns angrily to Flicker. “All right. You. Out!”
Farazil chuckles. “Then which other of you would you like me to inhabit?”
Ernie splutters. “Why… I… you…”
“It’s my nature!” says Farazil, raising Flicker’s arms. “Excuuuuse me!”
“Your nature stinks,” Ernie gripes.
Kibi clears his throat. “He did track Meledien and Tarsos for us…”
“I’m glad somebody noticed!” exclaims Farazil.
“You possessed my mother,” says Ernie. “And now my friend. Forgive me for not appreciating you properly.”
“Like we’ve asked you before,” says Morningstar, “announce when you’re leaving, and announce when you’ve come back. If you want to gain our trust, that’s how.”
“It’s like entering someone’s house,” says Ernie. “You knock first, and wait to be invited in.”
“I couldn’t ask for permission,” says Farazil. “That’s not how it works! And Morningstar, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. I’m still not entirely sure that I can.”
“Trust breeds trust,” says Aravis. “We’re going to have to start trusting one another. Because the world will end if we don’t. Again.”
Then Morningstar changes the subject. “I should probably mention that I’m getting the call to be the Slayer.”
/*/
As one might imagine, that little announcement causes quite the commotion. Right there, still in the Spiral, they sit and review everything they remember about their long-ago encounter with the ogres. The ogres had driven out the dwarves, the party recalls, but were still nervous about a possible dwarvish incursion back into their subterranean empire. After the ogres had captured the Company, they agreed to free their captives if they would de-petrify their “Great One,” a blue-skinned bat-winged ogre. After Morningstar had broken the enchantment and returned the Great One to the land of the living, the monster had “rewarded” her by declaring her ‘The Slayer,” and prophesying that 'When the time comes for the Throggun’s ascension, you will be summoned, and you will slay again. Return here at once.'
No one knows what the “Throggun” is, but they’ve all had a sinking feeling for years that it won’t be good news for the benighted dwarves who still live nearby. They speculate that perhaps the war between the two races resumed with the return of the Great One, and now Morningstar will be asked to throw in her lot with the ogres.
The general feeling among the party is that they should at least go there and speak to the Great One. Aravis admits that while tracking Meledien, Tarsos and Seven Dark Words is their highest priority, the three of them are certainly mind blanked and the trail is months cold. With no good way to track them, they might as well deal with the Throggun.
Somewhere up above them, where the sun is presumably shining, it is late afternoon. They’re weary and beat-up from their excursion into Naslund; perhaps the Throggun can wait until tomorrow. Morningstar casts a short commune to find out for certain.
Dark Lady, thank you for your gift. I will do my best to be worthy of it. I received a summons about the Throggun’s ascension. If we wait one day to answer, will it cause more harm to us or to the dwarves?
ALMOST CERTAINLY NOT
What if we wait two days?
PROBABLY NOT
Clearly a trend…
Farazil’s stated intention is that he wants citizenship. Can we trust his word on that?
HIS CLAIM IS TECHNICALLY TRUE
Her questions answered, she and the rest dimension door back to the surface, and hike back to Elkin’s bay. They find the carpenter Chennik having a drink in the Sleeping Fish, and return to him the remains of Heckern the smith. Aravis explains briefly that the hapless dwarf had starved to death.
“I would maintain your taboos against going to the bottom of the Downward Spiral,” he says.
Chennik shakes his head. “How did you get out, then?”
Aravis smiles. “We have many skills that ordinary people do not have.”
“Can you teach us?”
“No,” says Ernie curtly.
Chennik looks offended. “Well excuse me for asking!”
“You don’t understand,” says Ernie. “You can only get in or out if you have a particular characteristic that cannot be trained or acquired. Aravis here is the only person who has it.”
“Fine,” says Chennik. “I’ve been telling folk to stay away from that place for years, anyhow. We’ll give Heckern a proper burial.”
Flicker speaks… no, it’s Farazil. “I think Heckern will be happy in the afterlife. From what I know of the guy, I mean. I feel badly; he was a good dwarf, and didn’t deserve to die that way.” He sees Ernie staring daggers at him despite his comforting words, and adds, “But if you think I deserve some comeuppance, understand that I felt part of his suffering as he slowly died.”
Ernie fills his words with menace. “I don’t think you deserve some of the comeuppance…”
“Yeah, I know, you think I deserve all of it. I get it.”
“You were a hired assassin sent by Darkeye to kill us,” says Ernie. “You’re only trustworthy when someone’s paying you. Hey, maybe we should pay you to infiltrate Darkeye’s fortress for us!”
“I can’t,” says Farazil.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t. Ask me anything else, but not that.”
Morningstar looks up sharply at Farazil. “It’s because you’re still working for her, aren’t you.”
“No. I promise you that I am not.”
“Then what’s the problem?” asks Dranko. “Could Darkeye recognize you, and blind you?”
Farazil doesn’t answer.
“Right,” says Dranko. “You got your butt whipped.”
“Technically it wasn’t my butt,” says Farazil. “It was someone else’s, whomever I was in at the time.”
“Did you see her?” asks Ernie. “See Darkeye? What does she look like?”
“No one sees her,” says Farazil with a sigh. “It wasn’t allowed.”
“But you could show us where she is, on a map,” Dranko prods.
“It’s in the middle of a big forest...”
Aravis curiosity has been peaked. “Was Darkeye able to prevent you moving from body to body?”
“Yes,” Farazil admits. “Not physically, but by a… forced agreement. Look, I was bound to the service of the Sharshun. I convinced them that I had fulfilled my end of our contract when I locked you in God’s Thorn. But because it was a technicality, I made other agreements in order to be fully free of them altogether. Those agreements prevent me from going back there. If I do, bad things will happen. So, I’d both be going back on my word, and I’d get somebody else’s butt kicked. Probably Flicker’s. So, let me be clear: I’m not going. But I’ll tell you this much: they’re Sharshun. They have a castle, but it’s not… there. I was never clear how it worked. When they let me out to come after you, it wasn’t there when I left it. And when I came back, they had to bring me back in, and I don’t remember the details.”
“Were they in another dimension?” asks Dranko. “Cause we understand that stuff, you know.”
“Maybe it’s like a glorified Mordenkainen’s Mansion, Aravis muses.
“I don’t know,” says Farazil. “I can tell you more or less where in the forest it is, but I’m not going close to it. I’ll point out where I think it is on a map. It’s heavily warded, in pretty much every way there is. Or at least it was. Good luck getting in.”
But finding Darkeye is a task for another day. They teleport back to the Greenhouse, where Eddings greets them with arms full of cats.
“Nice to see you again,” he says with a bow of his head.
“We were just at the graveyard of the Gods,” says Dranko with his usual grin.
Eddings blinks his magical eyes, the only sign of surprise. “Of course you were. Where exactly is the Graveyard of the Gods, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Right next to the Garden Shop of the Gods,” says Ernie.
“Droll as always, Master Roundhill.”
Aravis heads upstairs to the secret room and contacts Ozilinsh on the crystal ball. He delivers a full report, including the tidbit about the discovery of Farazil, and the unrecoverable deaths of Cencerra and company. When Ozilinsh asks what’s next on their agenda, Morningstar answers: “The Throggun’s ascension.”
“Oh, that!” says Ozilinsh. “Tell me what a ‘Throggun’ is when you get back!”
/*/
While the rest of the Company prepares for sleep, and Aravis tries a fruitless vision of “Throggun,” Morningstar drops into Ava Dormo and dreams herself to the holy city of Kallor, there to make a full report to the High Priestess Rhiavonne. It is testament to Morningstar’s importance that the leader of her church drops all other business to make time for her.
“Thank you for meeting me so early,” Morningstar says with a bow.
“It is no difficulty,” says Rhiavonne. “Now, what is this all about?”
“You’ll have to excuse me,” says Morningstar. “It’s been a long, strange day. We went to a place called Naslund, which is the burial place of the Gods.”
Rhiavonne’s eyebrows shoot up. “You did, did you? And where is Naslund?”
“The gateway is on the Isle of Karth. The only reason we could get both in and out, is because of Aravis, who has a partially divine nature.”
“Ah, yes, the little cat godling you have with you.”
Morningstar successfully stifles a laugh. “Some of what we learned, the Gods have intentionally obscured, and do not want generally known. But I feel like I need to talk about it.”
Rhiavonne smiles. “I imagine you do. You can count on my discretion.”
“We went in looking for Cencerra, a member of the Spire.”
“I’m familiar with her. Did you find her?”
Morningstar’s eyes tear up. “She’d dead. And her soul has been destroyed.”
“Is that an effect of dying in Naslund?”
“No. It’s an effect of… Meledien and Tarsos entered Naslund. They infected themselves with the Black Evil Goo, which we now know is the blood of the Adversary…”
Rhiavonne interrupts. “The Adversary? The great malign God from whom Ell and the others fled?”
“Yes,” Morningstar confirms. “There is a place in Kivia which is a great crater, filled with the Adversary’s blood. Tarsos and Meledien infected themselves so that they could raid the burial places of the Gods. They destroyed the beings who were protecting it; the place was weakened by Drosh’s abdication. They were able to steal a weapon that destroys souls.”
“And they used it on Cencerra on their way out?”
“They used it on all of them.”
Rhiavonne is silent for a moment, her head bowed. After allowing the High Priestess a moment of silence, Morningstar continues. “The part the Gods do not want known, is that when the Gods fled here from the Adversary, there was a terrible… misunderstanding between the Kivian Gods and the Travelers. Some Gods were killed. Those are buried in Naslund. It was Pikon who finally stepped in and called an end to it. He invited the Travelers to Charagan.”
Rhiavonne lets out a long breath. “Amazing,” she whispers. “I wonder why they don’t want us to know.”
“Shame, I think,” says Morningstar. “And that they wanted there to be a peaceful accord among all the mortal children on Abernia.”
“Best that such conflicts be forgotten, then,” says Rhiavonne with a nod.
“Have you heard the name Aurelia?” Morningstar asks.
“Yes. Aurelia was a divine servant of Ell, if I recall my history. I thought she never made it to Abernia, that when the Gods fled the Adversary, she died defending them on their way here.”
“No,” says Morningstar. “She fought beside a paladin of Yondalla, against a Spider God of Kivia. I met Aurelia in Naslund. This weapon was hers.”
Morningstar lift’s Ell’s Will and hands it to her High Priestess.
“Ell’s Will!” exclaims Rhiavonne. “You have Ell’s Will. You… are greatly in Ell’s favor. This was a weapon crafted at Ell’s express instruction, only to be used by her most direct servants. Which you are, without a doubt, as we have seen several times over throughout the years. Wield it well!”
“I will do my best.”
Rhiavonne runs her hands along the haft of the holy weapon, and only after a full minute does she remember to give it back. As she does so, she asks, “So, how’s that chapter of holy scripture coming along?”
“That is part of why I’m here,” says Morningstar. “I should write about what I learned in Naslund, but what would it gain anyone, if the Gods’ war was widely known? It would only polarize the peoples of Abernia.”
“Perhaps you can couch it in obscure verse or prophecy. Many of the oldest books and scrolls are written that way.”
Morningstar sighs. “I was trained very well with a weapon and shield, but not with a pen. I’ve started the chapter several times. I’m… really rather better at fighting things.”
Rhiavonne pats her hand. “Given recent events, perhaps your career as an auteur can wait until your retirement.”
“I have a hard time imagine myself being retired,” says Morningstar with a grimace. “If I’m going to write, I should do it. I’m in a very dangerous line of work.”
“I’m certain I can have no true conception of the risks you face on a daily basis,” says Rhiavonne. “Do as you think best, but I am putting no pressure on you. I was only curious.”
“Right. Anyway, I thought I should tell you all of this before I go deal with the Throggun.”
“Ah, that. I know that’s been bothering you for some time. I am speechless as always when you give these kinds of reports. I envy you, and pity you at once.”
“Why do you envy me?”
“Because you are extraordinarily high in Ell’s favor, and your actions are powering the turning of the world. You are involved in events that millions of folk on Abernia will feel keenly. I, for instance, have never been to the City of Dead Gods.”
Morningstar laughs. “It’s a great responsibility,” she points out.
“Yes. And that is why I pity you also. But you should feel neither pity nor pride; only gratitude.”
“What I’ve gained that I most value is the comradeship of my Company. I am uncomfortable with the glory, I don’t know what to do with it.”
“It is yours to do with as you well. Let it blow from your back like dust; or shed it like a skin; or wrap yourself up in it. You can reflect it back on those you love the most.”
Inwardly, Morningstar feels a great sadness. Except for Dranko, she thinks. Glory will never be his.
Rhiavonne continues. “Ultimately, glory is of no conseuqnece. Would you do any different, if I told you you would live and die in obscurity, or if you would be the most renowned hero in history?”
“No,” Morningstar admits.
“Well then. You should not dwell o’er much on it, I think.”
…
Before Morningstar goes to sleep that night, Dranko asks her if she’ll be able to sleep with the Great One’s mark itching on her hand.
“Don’t worry about me,” she says. “I’m a professional sleeper. What’s more likely to keep me up is knowing I’ll learn more about Ell’s Will tonight.”
But in truth she falls asleep almost at once, and she dreams. She dreams that she is in Ava Dormo, or maybe’s she’s actually there. It’s hard to say. There is a tall woman there, with long white hair. She greets Morningstar with a salute.
“I am Aurelia. Or rather, I am your dream of her. May I?”
She holds out her hand, and Morningstar hands her Ell’s Will. For a moment Aurelia holds it, and remembers its past. It glows with a soft light.
“Now it is finished. Ell’s Will will be dominant against those resistant to magic. Woe be to those that stand against you. And I also give you this.”
Aurelia touches Morningstar’s forehead, and Morningstar feels her mind expand, in ways that relate to her understanding of Ava Dormo. She feels unbound in dream, that nothing can hinder her.
“Your needs will be great,” says Aurelia. “Your strength will be great. Do your best. Save us all.”
Abruptly Morningstar wakes up. It is morning, and though she feels as if little time has passed, she is wholly refreshed.
“Good morning!” she says to Dranko, giving her groggy husband a joyful kick. “Time to go! Time to find the Throggun!”
…to be continued…
