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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4119632" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 3A GATHERING IN DARKNESSA brisk wind blew in off the ocean one night, whipping the tops of white-capped waves that forged a constant drumming against the rocky coastline.  The wind blew inland, stirring the dry brush and blowing up sheets of dust from the rough hillsides beyond the coastal cliffs before eventually dying out further inland.  The occasional lonely seabird rose up on those currents of wind, but their presence only added a sense of grim isolation to this desolate shore.  The moon was just a sliver in the clear night sky, but the light of a thousand stars cast the faintest glow over the landscape.  The only signs of man’s habitation of this region were the wreckage of long-past days.  Bits and pieces of timber that had once been ships could occasionally be seen strewn across the gray sand beaches that infrequently broke the line of cliffs, and in places there were piles of stone visible atop the cliffs that might have once been part of deliberate constructions, rather than accidents of wind and sea and time.  It was difficult to say for sure, even when standing among those crumbling sentinels.But on an island situated a few miles off that long and lonely coast stood a ruin that was obviously a former habitation of man.  The remnants of stone walls upon the island were truly ancient, forming the outlines of what have been a citadel.  There were faint hints of more recent settlement, but the resurgent jungle had reclaimed clearings and grown through what might have been campsites among the ruins.  The island boasted a lagoon sheltered by reefs on the leeward side, a natural harbor.  The wreckage of two large ships lay smashed against the rocks on the windward side of the island, blackened hulks reduced to little more than skeletons of broken beams and jagged spars, their crews long since consumed by the deep.  A dark figure materialized out of the night sky, high above the island.  It was too large to be another seabird, but the darkness muted its black form.  It descended upon huge wings that caught the air and steered it toward the center of the ruins.  It landed in the shadow of a long, crumbling wall.  The big black wings folded into its back and disappeared, leaving only a slight form that crept soundlessly forward.  The darkness covered it like a cloak, and for several long minutes it was as if it had disappeared entirely. But the black figure reappeared on the edge of a depression in the center of the ruin, a hollow lined with stone.  Stone steps descended from the rim into the hollow.  The intruder paused to examine the steps.  The omnipresent growth was not evident here; the steps were covered in black char, and the stone itself was slick, fluid, the steps uneven as though the stone itself had started to melt.  There was something else; a smell rising from below.  It was a familiar stink, the odor of death, old enough so that the edge was gone, but not old enough to have lost that sharp smell of decay.After a few seconds the figure rose again and descended.  The hollow turned out to be a huge chamber.  Once, perhaps, it had been the cellar of a huge fortress that had dominated the island.  Now it was just an empty cavern, open to the sky above.  Something crunched softly under the intruder’s feet as it reached the base of the stairs.  It was a shard of bone, one of many scattered about.  There was more char here, black streaks that marred the surrounding stone.  Part of the place was collapsed, and much of the rest looked like it was about to.  The dark figure walked silently through the rubble to the far side of the place, where a massive stone archway in a sheer stone face accessed another chamber that was fully underground.  The intruder paused for only a moment on the threshold between the soft half-light that filtered down from above, and the total darkness within.  Then he headed inside.  A light suddenly appeared, on the far side of the room, as a curtain was drawn back from a narrow opening in a deep alcove.  It revealed that the room was cluttered with rubble, and showed the dark figure to be a man, clad in dark leathers and a long black cloak.  It also well as something else: the source of the smell of death that hung over the place.  The man in the black cloak glanced over at it.  There was not much left save for bones and skin, but that was more than enough to identify what it had been in life. A dark-skinned giant of a man stood in the open doorway, holding back the curtain.  He said nothing, just stood there waiting.  The man in the cloak walked over to him.  “Ah, Jasek, good.  You are the last to arrive,” came a voice from the room beyond the curtain. The large black man stepped back, giving Jasek room to move past him through the narrow doorway.  The curtain, a heavy segment of dense gray cloth, had been affixed to spikes driven into the ceiling, and it slid back into place behind him as he entered.The chamber was small and mostly intact, save for a gouge in the far wall surrounded by a bit of rubble.  The features of the place had worn away through time, leaving no clue as to its original purpose.  It now served as a council chamber.  A stone slab served as a table in the center of the place; there was no hint as to how it had gotten in here, as it was far too large to have fit through the doorway.  The light came from a small lamp at the center of the slab, that produced a too-bright flame that was almost certainly magical.  The stone table was surrounded by four folding camp chairs, the sort that soldiers used on campaign.  Three of the chairs were occupied.  The man who had greeted him sat at the far end of the table.  He was a short but broad-shouldered Drusian, with languid features that belied a considerable sharpness in his dark brown eyes.  He wore an unusual suit of armor fashioned of metal scales that covered his entire torso and upper arms.   The man seated to the Drusian’s right was obviously a magic-user.  He wore a comfortable suit of well-made clothes in violet and black, rather than a robe, but Jasek could almost taste the shifting magical auras radiating off of him.  His eyes were those of a hawk as they slanted over the newcomer. The man to the Drusian’s left, however, sent a chill down Jasek’s spine as soon as he turned his gaze.  It was a man, or at least it looked like one; it was swathed in faded, almost tattered robes that covered its body, including a cowl that shielded its face from the light of the lamp.  But as Jasek felt the man’s gaze seize his, a cold pit gaped open inside him, and he froze, shaking.  His mind screamed warnings, but he could not move. “It will pass,” the Drusian said, lifting an open hand in what might have been reassurance.  “It is not an attack, but rather a property of our... companion.  Wait a few moments, and you will regain full use of your faculties.”“It takes some longer than others,” the mage said, his lips twisting in a faint approximation of a sneer.  But Jasek could tell that he too was ill at ease with the man in the cowl.  If it was a man.He mastered himself in what he thought was a reasonable interval, and stepped forward.  He avoided looking at the cowled man again, but noticed that there was another person in the room, who he’d overlooked in his momentary paralysis.  That figure, another Drusian, was clad in simple, almost peasant, clothes.  His head was shaved, and he was attending to something on a folding table in the back corner.  That mystery was answered a moment later as the man came forward bearing a small tray, which held a cup of steaming liquid.  “You have had a rigorous flight, no doubt, and must be weary,” the armored Drusian said.  “I hope I was not presumptuous in my selection of beverage.”The servant offered the cup, which Jasek accepted.  He did not hesitate for more than a fraction of a second before drinking; if any of these others had wanted him dead, it was unlikely that they would have arranged for him to come all the way here.  His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he sampled the draught; the caff was Razhuri, prepared in the thick, almost syrupy style favored by the aristocrats of that nation.  He could almost feel the stimulant taking effect, a tiny surge of energy seeping through his veins.  He nodded incrementally at the seated Drusian, and took the cup with him to the last seat at the table.  The black man, he noticed, remained near the curtain, a guard to keep watch while the four held their conclave. “The dragon outside, an adult red?” Jasek asked as he sat down.The armored Drusian nodded.  “We attempted to convince Aragnak to join our cause, but were unsuccessful.”  “Not a trivial feat,” Jasek said, taking another sip from the tiny mug before putting it down on the slab in front of him.  The Drusian nodded.  “As you are the last, Jasek, we may now begin.”“The last, Ghazaran?” the mage asked.  “Then I take it that your embassy to the Nightlord was unsuccessful?”Ghazaran shrugged slightly, taking a second cup of caff as the servant brought it to him.  The mage waved him off when he looked at him; he did not bother to inquire of the cowled man.  No one seemed concerned by the presence of the servant or the guard within their meeting, so Jasek did not raise the issue. “My emissary did not return, which is response enough,” Ghazaran said.  “The chance was extremely slight, in any estimation.”“A pity,” the mage said.  “He and his consort have more power than the rest of this gathering combined.”  Jasek saw the cowled figure shift slightly, but it said nothing.  Jasek could detect a faint smell now that seemed to be coming from the other’s direction.  The odor was not unlike the faint hint of decay he’d smelled before, or the stronger smell that had accompanied the carcass of the dragon.Ghazaran’s reply was a subtle smile.  “Perhaps you underestimate us, ser.”  He rose from the chair, and placed his hands palm-down upon the edge of the slab.  “Gentlemen.  I have spoken with all of you at length prior to this day, but each of you may not know the others.  If you will permit me, I will make the introductions, and then get to the key purpose of this meeting.”The others did not dissent.  He turned to the mage.  “The Seer has provided invaluable arcane aid to our cause.  In particular, your divination abilities have been vital to advancing our plan.  We will rely heavily upon your knowledge of our destination, as well.”The Seer raised an eyebrow slightly, but did not otherwise respond.  “What does he get in exchange?” Jasek asked. “Knowledge,” the Seer said.  “Of ancient secrets lost to the awareness of man.”“Our agreement,” Ghazaran explained to Jasek, “was that all arcana, spells, tomes and treatises, those spell-items only of use to a wizard, and all materials of a historic or eldritch significance that are found within the vault are his to claim.”“So long as it does not conflict with my claims, I have no difficulty with that.”The Drusian nodded.  “Indeed, Jasek Haddar.  Your talents will be vital to the securing of the third device necessary to access the vault.  Your skills, and the properties of the weapon you bear, that is.  You have already received the first installment of your reward, and your claim upon the mineral and magical treasures of the vault is agreed upon, insofar as those items do not fall within the specific remit of the Seer.  And, of course, you will have payment for the wrongs that the Camarians wrought upon you.”“Fine,” Jasek said.  “That’s fine.  And him?” he added, with a nod at the cowled figure.The cowl shifted, and once again Jasek felt the cold weight of that unholy stare.  Ghazaran laughed, but Jasek knew that it had to be cover; no one could be so easily calm in the presence of such a thing. “Zafir Navev’s role in our little scheme is vital in more ways than one.  And he has more reason to hate Camar than any here.” Navev’s hand moved, and for a moment Jasek caught a glimpse of a withered stump of a hand, wrapped in withered, crusted strips of parchment or leather.  He recognized the two blades that clattered onto the table, even before the light caught the gemstones embedded in their hilts, one blue, one red.  “My associates are Falah Naj, at the door there, and Parzad, providing our refreshment,” Ghazaran was saying, although everyone was still looking at the daggers.  “All you need to know about them, for now, is that their loyalty to me is unquestionable, and they will play vital roles in our plan.”Jasek looked up at that, not bothering to hide the doubt in his expression.  “And what of you, priest?  You are the leader of this merry little band, but your motivation in this plan is not entirely clear to me.”Ghazaran’s benign expression did not change, but a sudden sharpness appeared in his eyes, until Jasek felt as though cold daggers were being thrust against him by that stare.  “Like each of you, I have an interest in Camar’s suffering.  For ten years, I have worked toward this day we now face.  When we unleash the Ravager, you will see.”</blockquote>

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