Act 2
Zahkura borrowed the candle from Lyra and lit small fires in six pots: each burned a flame of a different color (dark charcoal, reddish, blue, a silvery flame, gray, and a pure white flame). They were arranged in a circle at one end of the cave in front of a rough sketching on the cave wall: Zahkura sat in the middle of the circle with the spear on her lap and seemed to meditate or pray, leaving the party to wait and talk amongst themselves.
The flames from the pots illuminated the carving on the wall, revealing an image of a dragon. Jazira walked over to examine it briefly, being careful not to disturb Zahkura's quiet meditation. Seeing the picture recalled her interview with Wyst to mind, and she thought back on the slightly awkward hour spent in his company.
We might have only spoken about generalities, but he did seem sincere in his well wishes for me. I have a feeling that my experience on this island will produce questions that I wish I had known in time to ask him. Sighing briefly, she quelled the urge to continue pacing -
Ladies do not fidget, Jazira! - and found a seat on the sandy floor next to Lyra.
With nothing to do but wait out the storm, a ragged conversation started up. When the conversation turned inevitably to the Starfall Marks they all had, Jazira was interested to learn that Dracos Vitellia herself had discovered Hawk's Mark. It made her feel better to have even this slight connection to what was otherwise a group of strangers, and she asked Hawk how he had met her. Hawk detailed for Jazira how Vitellia managed to kill a Hrunthar-Dhar warrior in one blow, but was somewhat surprised that she didn't wish to hear more detail. After a moment, he looked down at himself, bloody and covered in seeping wounds, then looked at the boulder in the cave mouth.
Got time. Perhaps the Old Gods will hear me. Without fanfare, he sat down and began to meditate.
Vargas turned to Jazira and said, "You are from Suel, aren't you?" Nodding, Jazira briefly described her island. "We trade, mostly. Jewelry, textiles - including sea silk, and household goods comprise most of it. We have gemstone mines as well." She shrugged slightly, unaccustomed to talking to strangers who knew nothing of Suel. "Our city covers the entire island, which is fairly small." She thought briefly about describing more of the culture, but decided against it for the moment.
Listening to the other's rather wondrous tales of pleasant islands and vile swamps, Stormbringer shook his head in wonder. "Life on Gilarthan is harsh and short. There are swamps there as well, but none go into them if they wish to come back out again." He looked over to Vargas. "Your race lives in the swamp, and they are feared and reviled. Fortunately, one has met other humans since leaving Gilarthan, and one has learned that you are not all so cruel and vile."
"I have never met one such as yourself, "Vargas replied. "But my home too is a place that is often dangerous. I lived in a vast forest that was populated by a variety of dangerous beasts. There is also a swamp on Toragon, but far worse than cruel humans dwell there."
Stormbringer nodded. "The goliaths are rare outside of Gilarthan. One has not met any since one left, though one heard of others, once. They are said to be from far up north."
As Lyra listened to everyone tell of the harshness of their homelands and journeys, she stared at them with a look of total admiration. "It is nothing like that where I come from." Lyra went on to explain that Andira, her homeland, was an island of simplicity and quiet. She talked of her life as a Grover, responsible for harvesting and cleaning the roots of the 'Great and Glorious Malagorian Trees.' As an Andiran, the scariest thing she had encountered was getting tangled on tree roots while swimming through the swamps. "But, someone only dies from that every three or four years," she added.
At that moment, the cave was suddenly bathed in a blue light from the back of Hawk's hand. Still seated, Hawk ran his now brightly glowing Starfall Mark over his wounds. To the amazement of all, the wounds simply disappeared, leaving him completely healed and without adverse effects. This left no doubt as to the purpose of his Mark. "Don't remember name, but is sacred to Luna. Good Mark for warrior to have, eh?" Hawk grinned sheepishly.
The group watched the healing with amazement: while healing by manipulating the third element, lithos, was possible, it was always intensely painful. A curative spell or magic simply accelerated the body's own natural healing: it was as if days or weeks of healing occurred in a few seconds. The process caused even the most hardened warriors to scream in pain: in many cases, the pain was such that it would leave those healed knocked unconcious for hours.
Stormbringer was reluctant to speak of his mark at first. Stellatus Muandro had been certain that the Venoc wished to kill him because of it; in the months since, he had been sparing in trusting others with the information. But as the others spoke of their mark and the blessings that it provided, he felt for the first time as though he were not the outsider. He decided if there was any time to speak of the mark before meeting the oracle, it was now.
"One's sign is called a 'Patrocinor'," he said, touching his right arm. "It's red..."
"A Sardra mark," Vargas interrupted.
Stormbringer nodded. "So one has been told. 'Patrocinor' means invincible...er, invulnerable, one means. When it is activated, one cannot be burned or hurt." He smiled. "One has been able to activate it twice already."
Taking advantage of a pause in the conversation, Jazira spoke up. "My mark is called Invalesco, and is of lithos. Dracos Vitellia told me that it means strength. I have only activated it once, but it makes me much larger and stronger for a brief moment. It tends to wreak havoc on my clothing, however, which is why I am now wearing such loose clothing." A graceful gesture indicated her robes; while made of sea silk and obviously high quality, the loose fit made to accommodate the changes brought on by her Mark emphasized her slender build, lending her an air of deceptive fragility.
Hawk's eyes narrowed: "You wear nice clothing," he said without preamble.
Jazira stiffened noticeably. "Yes. My family has a mercantile concern in textiles."
Hawk's brow furrowed at this. "Text-tiles? Dat books?" he asked.
Jazira corrected him, and replied, "Why do you ask?"
"You got money, den. See, I can heal if I get medicines and such, a kit for healing, but I got nothing but what you see on my back." At this point, a discussion as to how and where to purchase a healer's kit revealed the difficulty they were in: the island was not exactly urbane. However, Jazira's eyes had flashed with rage, and her first impulse at the minotaur's uncouth comment was to deliver him a blistering set down. Restraining that urge, however, she thought about what he had said and realized he was correct.
Not that I have much money on me, she thought wryly.
Which is quite a change from what I am accustomed to, but no matter. My family's riches do not constitute who I am. The last comment was thought in an effort to convince herself of that truth. Her entire trip, ending on this island, was very different from the life she had known thus far. "Perhaps it is something we might all join in on and purchase, when we have the opportunity." she suggested mildly. "It is something we would all benefit from, after all."
Lyra hesitated for a moment before taking her turn. In her ears, she could hear all the things people associated with the element of her Mark.
Thief. Pickpocket. Deceiver. But those nagging voices were quickly pushed aside when she thought of what Magister Ilrion had shared with her. "My mark," she said, "is called Prestgigszhea....Prestiglea...Forgive me... It is a hard word to say when I'm excited." Slowly, almost phonetically, she pronounced the name of her mark. "Praestigiae. It means illusion in Draconic..."
Before Lyra could continue, she heard what sounded like everyone gasp (in fear, or amazement, she couldn't be sure). Then, someone said "The mark of Umbra?"
"Yes," Lyra replied, somewhat uneasily. "Unfortunately, it isn't as useful as being able to heal your wounds, like some people's mark. But I bet it could be a lot of fun. When I use it, 6 of me appear. And they run around and talk and do other things. But it doesn't last long."
When it came time for Vargas to reveal his mark, he shrugged rather indifferently. "It is called Quondam and is a mark of Animus. With it I can see briefly into the past, although I have only ever been able to make it work once." There was a little more to Vargas' mark than merely perceiving Animus, but seeing as it hadn't been of any use to him while he was enslaved, he didn't really consider it worth mentioning.
Elin did not have much to tell them about his mark as it was so recently discovered. "It is called Accelero, a Menta mark. It allows me to move really fast. So fast that other people only see me as a blur." He hoped it would be useful mark, but the only things that had come to mind were ways to avoid problems. He also worried that it might not be useful when he needed it most. It wasn't a mark like Hawk's, that he could concentrate on using out of the thick of things. It would be most useful when things were in a bad way already.
"It could be good to be fast," Stormbringer said with admiration. "One has often noticed that those alike your kind are much more difficult to hit because they are so quick."
After about an hour, the air in the small cave had grown stale. Zahkura rejoined the group and conveyed that it was time to move the boulder: she stood at the ready with her spear while the group pushed the boulder back into place. Outside of the cave, the sky was again clear and the storm was gone, having given way to only a slight breeze. However, the river was now completely frozen for at least fifty feet in all directions, with the entrance of the cave serving as an obvious center point. The bodies of the Burowao attackers were covered as well, their last desperate attempt to reach the cave petrified within the ice, which was just starting to melt in the heat.
For a moment, the group was silent as they slowly looked over the bizarre scene.
The Burowao watched them with lifeless eyes, encased in the ice.
Jazira mumbled, "We have served ice at parties before." As soon as the words were uttered, she wished she could take them back.
Jazira, you are an idiot of immense proportions! she told herself.
What does that fact have to do with our situation here on this island? Nothing! Remember to think before you speak from now on. Hoping that the slight blush on her cheeks wouldn't be noticed, she fell silent.
"Ice?" Lyra said, overwhelmed by the scene of carnage. "I had ice once, not too long ago. Only my last day at the Academy. Magister Ilrion had some with our drinks when we finished combat practice that morning. It was the most delicious feeling, drinking cold Malagorian tea under the hot morning sun." She looked around and noticed the others had left her behind with her thoughts, so she stopped talking and skittered, as quickly as the ice would allow, up to the rest of the group.
Looking around with surprise, Vargas said, "Sometimes in the winter months cold winds will blow off the mountains of Toragon and bring with them frost and snow, but I have never seen the likes of this." He tried to put on a brave face in front of the destruction.
Elin had never seen ice in such great quantities. He had barely believed it existed until Captain Kezem had surprised the crew with a bonus, that some Southerner had produced for them for a job well done. He didn't think things could get that cold, at least not any where near the Tempest Isles.
Stormbringer looked at the bodies with astonishment. He had seen people slain in such a way before, but never so quickly or by such a sudden storm that came and went in such a brief time. "It can be cold in the mountains of Gilarthan," he said, "but one has never seen a thing like this."
No one wanted to speak of the many dead layered under the ice: the entire group carefully ignored the horror before them.
None had an explanation.
“Soulivum,” Zahkura whispered, glancing to the sky. She did not seem afraid of its return--whatever it was that wrought such devastation--and the group followed her lead and carefully crossed the ice. The group followed their guide further down the river in silence for a few minutes before turning to the northeast and back into the jungle.
The journey through the jungle required about two hours of walking through the dense foliage along winding paths that were little more than slightly less obstructed areas of the jungle. The heat was also intense (typical for the environment), causing Lyra to become overwhelmed by heatstroke and pass out. Stormbringer carried her the remaining distance to the village of the Mious. Jazira was finally succumbing to the intense heat as well, and her face was pale beneath the flush of exertion. The sight of the village was a welcome one; even more so was the sight of the river with its promise of cool water.
The village consisted of several dozen huts built elevated about five or six feet off the ground by poles in a sandy clearing next to a shallow, gently flowing river. The huts were of simple wood and vine construction: walking through the village, the group saw little evidence of any civilization or trade (such as forged tools). The dwellings reminded Elin of home, as the swamp required that the living areas be built high above the water. The villagers were human and similarly dressed (and without much concern for modesty) as Zahkura and looked to the party with both curiosity and excitement, talking elatedly among themselves while bowing to the new arrivals. The party quickly went to the stream to recover from the heat for several minutes; Lyra awoke but was feeling drained and tired. Though the natives hadn't experienced her need to talk, the others in the group could tell by her silence that she was not feeling at all well. Hawk was more direct: "You look like
, " he said. Lyra offered a feeble laugh for the minotaur's candor.
Jazira splashed water over herself eagerly, unconcerned by the fact that her robes were soon soaked. She felt much cleaner, although only marginally cooler, and her skin welcomed the moisture. Supremely grateful for the water, she was nonetheless regretful of the fact that it was too shallow for swimming.
If I can only figure out how to ask her, perhaps Zahkura knows of a deeper area of the river, she thought longingly.
Zahkura led the group to a somewhat more ornate hut at one end of a central open area in the middle of the village. Six mats were placed on the ground and the villagers cautiously moved to disarm the party of their weapons, to which they nervously agreed. Vargas almost refused to surrender his swords. He was a Sol'velar warrior, his blades were almost a living extension of himself. He hesitated briefly, but finally surrendered his weapons. Taking a deep breath, he decided to put his faith in these strange people and hope it wasn't some sort of trick.
Though Stormbringer noted the reluctance of some of the others to relinquish their weapons, he did so without hesitation, and watched with amusement as the tribe members staggered under the weight of them. Jazira had no reservations; she only carried a dagger at her waist, which the villagers ignored, and moved gratefully in the direction of the waiting mats. Lyra looked at the Mious with their baskets and panted. Obviously not considering her a threat, they shrugged their shoulders and moved on, leaving Lyra fully armed. She felt ashamed at this and was glad her teachers weren't here to witness this moment.
When the baskets came to Hawk, he gave up his weapons with some difficulty, not because he feared for his safety, but because he valued them greatly. No, if the natives wished them harm, he was confident they'd have made their intentions clear long before. Elin was glad to be rid of some of the weight, and hoped they would be able to rest more soon. The swamp of his home was much cooler and darker place, and The Aquazure always caught a good breeze. They then knelt on the mats as a middle-aged member of the tribe (later they learned was named Malama) emerged from the hut and spoke briefly before descending the steps to stand near the group.
A much older man, wearing an elaborate, perhaps more ceremonial garb, emerged from the hut and spoke to the villagers assembled around the party for several minutes. A small drake was perched on his shoulder, and seemed as interested in the party as the villagers. Afterwards, he picked up a box with carvings on it, opened it, and picked up a blue stone wrapped in cloth: the Starfall Marked recognized the stone as a Quiezat’el (pronounced “kay-zat-elle”), a kind of rock that fell to the world with the Starfall Dragons three hundred and sixty years earlier that the priests of the faith use to find and identify the mysterious marks. The man, evidently the leader of the village, climbed down the steps to the party and used the small blue stone to find and confirm each was marked: upon doing so, he called out “Fulahan!” (indicating that they were blessed with a mark), to which the villagers cheered “Hwotah!”
Vargas recognized the blue stone immediately, it was the same type of device that Dracos Kettius had used to identify both he and his sister's starfall marks back on Toragon. Eager to get this over with, Vargas presented his right shoulder to man so that it shone a bright gray in the stones light.
Stormbringer noted with interest the location of each of the other's mark. He rather envied Hawk for the placement of the mark on his right hand, easy to be re-infused by Luna, while being grateful that it did not mar his facial features as it did some others.
When Jazira was approached, she held out her left hand, looking forward to seeing the proof of her Mark once again. With the proximity of the Quiezat'el, a bright blue glow emanated from the back of her left hand, and she looked at the Mark with an awe that had yet to dissipate, despite the familiarity of it from the past six months.
Why I was so honored, I do not know, but I will work as hard as necessary to learn all I can here. I will bring only honor to my family, my clan, Rolan, and to Suel. As if affirming a vow, her face settled into a look of determination, and she nodded as the man moved away from her and on to Lyra.
Lyra grinned at the assembled mass as she pointed to her cheek and shouted out, far too loudly "FULAHAN!" as she pointed to her left cheek. The stone caused her cheek to emit a brilliant white light. With as much enthusiasm as the Mious, she shouted out "Hwotah!" right along with them and continued this with each subsequent Blessed One.
With the ceremony completed, the drake flew off to the north, in the direction of the large mountain. The group speculated that it was flying off to inform the Oracle of their arrival as they were brought to the largest hut in the village, located on the opposite side of the central clearing. Each villager approached with a plate or basket of food, or a container of water: soon the hut was filled with provisions ranging from native fruits to freshly cooked wild boar. The procession took the better part of an hour, concluding with the village leader (whom the party learned was named Akolo) conveying that they could rest until dusk. He did not speak Tradespeak and the party could not talk directly to him or the other villagers any more effectively than with Zahkura.
The group rested and waited through the afternoon. Concerned about Lyra's condition, Jazira made sure the Halfling had plenty of water and food. Lyra was proving to be an amusing companion due to her sheer enthusiasm, and Jazira felt some guilt at having ignored her wounds earlier. We must look after each other if we are to succeed here, she reminded herself. When she was sure Lyra was content, she sat down and refreshed herself with the food and drink provided. Despite her own considerable hunger, her manners were more suited for an elegant dinner party than her current rough surroundings.
Once Lyra had rested sufficiently, she scurried out of the hut and looked for Zahkura. She found the Mious woman standing with others at the end of the village. Never one to allow language to serve as a barrier when she wanted to communicate, Lyra attempted to ask Zahkura why the Burowao had attacked. She wasn't able to get an answer to her question, but she did learn the Mious symbol for Burowao (a gesture across the face, following the path of the Burowao's black mark) - and also that the Mious did not speak of the Burowao. Or, at least that is what the combination of Zahkura's rambling sentences and gestures seemed to try to mean. Lyra wandered back to the hut thinking that
was really intelligent of me to not find someone on the island who spoke Mious. Then again, who, exactly, would that person be? We aren't exactly crawling with Blessed Ones...
Elin watched as Lyra tried to speak with Zahkura and the villagers. He knew he could try to learn the language as well, but he had spent many of the past few years cramming in the six he already knew. It was useful to a skiffer crew to know as many languages as possible. To speak and write in another language, meant it was not a barrier to any trade that might go on. Although, he still wondered why he knew Gnomish, other than to read the directions provided with some of their infernal contraptions.
Hungry, Stormbringer ate of the food eagerly, especially the wild boar meats as the others talked. He only offered a few comments or answered questions when asked. He did not know much more of what to expect than they, and though the language the natives spoke was utterly foreign, at least they didn't seem to mean them any harm. He had been able to establish some common references, particularly in regards to Solaris and Luna's passage in the sky. He agreed with Hawk that they were in this together, and he said he would do what he could to aid the group. The human, Vargas, still made him a little uneasy and the elf, Jazira was much more quiet and reserved than those he had known in the past, but as a group they seemed to be trustworthy enough.
Curiosity prompted Jazira to comment on Hawk's and Varga's familiarity with each other. "How did the two of you meet, if you do not mind the question?" She looked inquiringly at the two men.
"We were both enslaved and forced to fight each other in an arena," Vargas responded. "I commented on what a bad situation this was, and to my surprise, Hawk agreed. I quickly formulated a plan, and asked Hawk if he could throw me far enough to reach the ledge of the arena. He managed to do so, but before I could find some rope or anything else to aid him in his escape, I was struck by a crossbow bolt and faced with several guards all with still loaded crossbows. Although it pained me to flee, I saw no honor in dying when I could escape and hopefully one day return to repay Hawk for his assistance."
As the discussion continued, it became clear Vargas had assumed Hawk was a slave at the time, which Hawk denied, saying, "Was earning passage on ship, had to fight. Did pretty well, too, with silly ropes and sticks, until da night at da Boss' house, where we had real weapons. Heh, after Vargas went over wall, Boss was pretty ******. Had to leave town before trouble started." All told, Hawk decided, the whole adventure made a pretty good story. At that point, Hawk began to speak of his homeland, and of his beliefs about Tsaruk, the saviour-god of the Tsarukai. A comment from Hawk reminded Jazira of the information she had learned while in Allul. She recounted the description of the corpse of the monstrous creature that had been found by a trading vessel of Suel. "There were creatures attempting to feed on it," she said, "but they were acting rather dazed, and apparently just swam off."
Hawk launched into a description of his peoples' belief that the demons were never destroyed, that they were forced under the Ocean, but they allied with the monstrous sea-serpents of the Abyss (the Deep Ocean) to crack the Wall that kept them from the world. Tsaruk and his Minions fight a continuous battle, he said, to keep the demons at bay and so protect the world. Jazira mentioned having heard of the remains of a massive, strange creature in the sea while on her trip to the island and wondered if the monstrous creature well have been one of the sea-serpents or demons.
Lyra was fascinated by Hawk's description of the beliefs of the people from his homeland. She pulled out a well-made brown leather notebook and began scribbling in it frantically. Every now and then she would attempt to sound out a place name or interrupt Hawk to probe deeper.
Vargas couldn't help but smile at the halfling. In many ways she reminded him of his sister, even their names were similar: Lyla, Lyra. The biggest differences between the two were that Lyla was quite a bit taller, but only a little less talkative than Lyra.
The conversation then turned to skills when Hawk asked "Are any of you skilled with working the elements?" Around the hut, each of the Blessed Ones indicated that, aside from their Marks, they were not casters and shared their experiences with those elementalists they did know. When it came Lyra's turn to respond, her excitement bubbled over and all she could do was giggle. The others pressed to understand the meaning of her laughter.
"I can work Umbra," she smiled. "butonlyalittle," she mumbled quickly.
