Chapter 35: Farewell
HOHB,
Thanks for tuning in! The story is about to take an interesting twist.
* * * *
But for my faith in Canaan, I fear I would have succumbed to the maddening vistas of the Far Realm. If what I saw there was indeed real and not imagined or some queer defect in my capacity to perceive, we live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The schools of arcane magic, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
The screeching was so piercing that I thought my ears might bleed from the effort of hearing it. It was a repetitive sound that took some time to distinguish as actual speech. This is my best effort at committing to paper that which I heard: Ph’nlgui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn. I know not what it means, but it is terrifying even to this day. Merely writing it has taken such supreme will that I must now rest.
* * *
I have decided that of the things I learned on my journey no more must be told. There is a secret that even torture could not extract from me. But make no mistake, Mankind is not absolutely alone among the conscious things of the earth, for the shapes came out of the dark and made their presence known. I wish I never learned what secrets lay just beyond the veil of awareness. Are they here now? Or are they sealed away in that place of madness. I shall never know.
I was at first envious of the unconscious Hu Li, who escaped that terrifying assault on the senses and mind. Perhaps it is a technique learned from his training with Balian that allowed him to so easily numb his mind and body to the horrors around him. Although I suspect that it is instead a defense he developed to the insanity that must have constantly beleaguered him as Balian’s pupil in that dark, mysterious tower. Recognizing the danger that lay along the path of jealousy, I quickly threw off the mood, praying to Canaan for His forgiveness of my momentary weakness.
Talon had managed through by his meditation in lotus-style pose, eyes shut and formidable mind closed like a trap against the insinuations of madness that crept over us in that place.
Rin seemed nearly impervious to its affects. The only outward sign of trouble he exhibited was a melancholy frown. I have no common frame of reference with the half-fiend, so find it difficult to empathize with him. But I know something of Hell and its structure. Bertrand’s Anatomy of Hell and Bishop Vangard’s Treatise of Sin and the Afterlife were required reading in the seminary. Bertrand’s Theory posits that Hell is bifurcated into nine layers, each of which contains its own unmentionable horrors, governed by an overlord of evil. If memory serves, he suggests that some landscapes in Hell are so maddening…. I’m sure they must rival the place we had just been pulled through. Perhaps the melancholy that affected Rin was caused by the memory of home that place evoked in him, rather than exposure to the insanity of the place itself.
Shallahai seemed most affected by our journey. The Green there has been twisted and perverted into some unnatural state. Or was it natural. Perhaps what we see is the perversion and the natural state that lays beyond or tiny world, behind our imperfect veil of security. That question alone is enough to drive one mad. I can see how this journey must have upset Shallahai’s world.
Sometimes the sides of the tunnel were so close, its slime covered sides brushed up against our flesh. Dark things wriggled inside of the walls of that organic tunnel. I know I saw faces pressed up against the walls, in silent screams of agony, trying to burst through. Hands tried to grab for us, to take us into the flesh of the tunnel where we would no doubt remain, trapped in that mad realm.
Finally, after an eternity, we were excreted from the tunnel into Balian’s summoning chamber. Covered in slime that smelled of afterbirth, one by one we began to get up. Wiping the amoebic juices away from my eyes, my vision focused. I saw towering over us Balian the Everwatchful, wearing his characteristic white, open-backed robe. His white hair wild and bushy eyebrows raised.
“You must rest for the evening, my friends. Tomorrow morning we will conduct the ritual.” Balian shrieked.
Hu Li began to incant a spell to wipe away the slime and was interrupted by a backhanded slap from Balian, sending a glob of slime from Hu Li’s cheek flying.
“Don’t! You fool! No magic!” Balian scolded the young wizard.
Hu Li mewled in pain, clutching the side of his face.
I saw Balian’s back then. The ever-present blackened sores oozed clumps of viscous organic fluid, like jelly congealing. They like eight holes about two inches in diameter down the center of his back in two rows.
Balian turned to the rest of us then.
“Arcane magic must not be used before the ritual unless its caster has first been properly cleansed and the incantation burned into the memory through special ritual.”
I nodded. I don’t know why. None among us has the knowledge necessary to perform the slightest cantrip.
I peered over to Shallahai. His eyes were wide with the remnants of fear. But he was cleaning off his clothing and shaking the slime out of his boots, readjusting to our surroundings. His actions were characteristic of one busying himself to forget the unpleasantness of a traumatic experience. It seemed no lasting damage was done. For that, I was thankful. It was times like this that Shallahai seemed human, vulnerable. These times were becoming fewer and farther between, but I cherished every one of them.
The Shuuthian seemed even less-affected than the others. I approached him.
“That was a journey I do not desire to take again.” I started.
“Yes. It is a journey I have now twice taken, the second no better than the first.” The Shuuthian responded.
He turned to Master Balian.
“Good Wizard, where is my horse?” the Shuuthian horse druid asked.
Balian looked at him, considering his request. After a moment, he spoke.
“Your horse is safely stabled next to the tower in an old shed. Orolde has cared for him while you were gone.” Balian nodded to the Shuuthian.
“Thank you, Wizard. I shall take my leave of you then. Since the Succubus has been destroyed, I have reached a dead end. I no longer have a purpose here.” Fer’inj stated.
Balian stared at the druid.
“It was…interesting…meeting your acquaintance, an experience I shall not lightly forget.” Fer’inj’s lip curled ever so slightly in disgust.
“Rest this night, friend. You are free to leave when you wish. But the light of day will speed your travel.” Balian responded, ignoring the Shuuthian’s manner.
“You are too kind.” Fer’inj responded, bowing to Balian, out of respect. The matter was ended, but the Shuuthian was clearly uncomfortable.
“What is this ritual we will be performing and what exactly will be our role in it?” Talon asked Balian.
“I will tell you tomorrow. Now, get some rest. I must continue to prepare for the ritual.” Balian responded. “Orolde has prepared your rooms in the tower. Meet him in the dining hall. He will show you to your rooms and warm baths.”
I was full of questions, chief among which was what was to be done about Lilian’s corpse.
Balian saw my hesitation. “She will be fine here. We will need her for the ritual as well. After all, it was her word that bound the rest of you.”
“But Master Balian, she is dead. How can she help you?” I asked, truly confused.
“You will see tomorrow, apprentice.” Balian responded.
Apprentice. I didn’t feel like much of an apprentice. My studies had not even started to any degree. I had heard it took years to master the arcane arts and that those who sought their mastery with a teacher often spent years performing mind-numbing chores for their masters before any true learning began. But I feel as though I haven’t even started that process with Balian yet. I have been involved in too many events of importance, events beyond my control that this Balian has had a hand in. Perhaps, this is all part of my training after all.
We all turned to leave.
“Wait! Hu Li you will attend your duties before you go. It is most important this night that you cleanse the sores upon my back. The girls must be clean for the ritual tomorrow!” Balian nearly screeched.
Hu Li’s shoulders slumped as he turned around and began to walk back to Balian.
“Yes Master.” He responded glumly.
His response reminded me of the house-servant, Orolde’s, manner. What an odd creature, Orolde. It was quite a mystery what could possibly be worth the abuse of staying in the curmudgeonly old wizard’s employ.
* * * *
I must admit, I didn’t sleep well that night. I was afraid to close my eyes for fear of the horrors my dreams might bring. I spent a good deal of the evening reminiscing about the little time I had with Lilian. It occurred to me with some dismay that Gabriel would have to be told about his sister’s fate.
I did not relish the idea of bearing such bad tidings. It would be hard enough for me to speak about it. But I fear that much more damage would be done in the telling. Hearing such awful news might throw the fragile priest into a depression such that Gabriel may never recover from his current bout with his inner demons. Gabriel, drinking again, the Shuuthian observed. I remembered Lilian’s stories about Gabriel’s drinking at Goldfire Glen. It was clearly a sickness.
The church does provide services to help heal those that have allowed the lure of alcohol to poison their minds. I have seen first hand the vise-like hold that mead can have over a man and its devastating effects. A brother in the seminary suffered from such an affliction. His particular case was quite severe. When the depression got too severe, he nearly hung himself with his platus, a cordlike belt Canaanite priests wear around their mid-sections designating rank. It must have been much like the lure of Corday, the Sirine, in Wiltangle Forest—one single note and before you know it you have succumbed to a lifetime of sweet, sweet song, longing only to escape but never really having the drive to do so.
But I fear that with Father Zigfried in residence at Goldfire Glen, he is not leaping at the opportunity to give Gabriel the support he needs to tear himself away from the bottle and resist its lure. There is something—dare I say—sinister about Father Zigfried. He is so much the zealot, too much so. It has been a long time such we have been in Goldfire Glen, but I don’t suppose his exposure to those who live by the rules of The Green has made him any softer. If anything, my bet is that it has brought him to new levels of anti-Green zealotry. His rhetoric must certainly be rattling the more liberal Baron Underhill. I’ve even heard rumor that the Underhill family has some Halfling blood in its line. If Zigfried knew that....
* * * *
Orolde woke us systematically and sent us down to breakfast. Balian wouldn’t be joining us, “too busy preparing for the evening ceremony,” Orolde had said in his characteristically glum tone as he waddled down the hall to wake Shallahai.
There wasn’t much talking at breakfast. As I looked around the table I noted the same hollow expression and dark circles under the eyes of most of my companions as I knew must be on my face. The memories of the last couple of days will not quickly fade.
The bleak stone of the tower and its dearth of windows felt too close. The scent of mildew permeated its rooms. Autumn had arrived in earnest. I needed some air.
Crossing the drawbridge, I watched several of the oversized ducks nipping at each other and defecating on the grounds. It reminded me to watch where I stepped, lest I experience an unpleasant surprise. The stuff was positively everywhere and it smelled worse outside than it did in Balian’s Tower.
Despite it all, however, it was a beautiful day. The leaves had started their annual turning, golds, yellows and oranges graced their boughs. A slight breeze stirred the air, bringing a brief respite from the olfactory hell that was the grounds of Balian’s Tower. The air was a bit brisk. I tightened my robe and tied my platus more securely so I could tolerate the chill air.
My ghola robe was filthy. The bottom foot of it was caked in mud from Diamond Lake. It contained gashes from where I had been raked. It bore burn marks from those Dark-Sider blasts. My blood and that of my friends and foes alike adorned it. While I never was one to enjoy the excess of the church, for example, choosing to forego wearing the thawqin of a fully ordained priest with its inlaid precious metals, in favor of the acolyte’s ghola, I must look the part of the beggar.
I sighed and looked to the heavens. It had been a long journey from that day I met Shale near here. Though mere weeks have passed, I have in that time become much closer to Canaan, learning to channel more of His divine grace through my prayers. Even now, I feel myself on the cusp of greater enlightenment.
Sounds of movement behind me lifted me out of my reverie.
“The Green graces us with yet another beautiful day.” Shallahai announced as he approached me with a slight smile.
The hollow look was gone from his eyes.
“And I thank The Goddess that my feet are planted firmly in her bosom.” He continued, the smile disappearing as a dark thought momentarily passed him.
“Much have we been through, friend.” I said, clapping Shallahai firmly on the shoulder with a smile.
The smile returned to his face. “Yes, my friend.”
Shallahai looked around him into the distance.
“But something dark lays just over the horizon and I fear it is something beyond any of us.” He turned to me, eyes blazing white with the introspective insight of The Green.
My smile faded, “what do you see, Shallahai?” I asked. My voice trembled slightly.
“Death and rebirth. But not in the natural way. A merger. I know not what it means. But be ready when it happens.” He warned.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
Shallahai didn’t answer me.
Of all of us, the changes wrought in Shallahai over the past few weeks were the most profound. The Green’s Answer, he called himself. But what was he really? An Avatar—perhaps a physical manifestation of a part of The Green? Whatever he was, I was happy to have him on my side. For the power he could channel was so primal, so devastating, that I shudder to think what would happen if he turned that energy against the people of Turgos.
* * *
Fer’inj had bathed and washed his clothes. His boots were laced for traveling as he came to greet Shallahai and I on the tower grounds.
“I will be going soon my friends. I will never forget fighting by your side. There are few experiences as bonding as fighting together for one’s life. As my people say, ‘no words need express the bond of battle.’ You will not be forgotten.” Fer’inj smiled.
“Where will you go?” Shallahai asked.
“Back home, to Shuuth. I will speak with my order and try to unravel the mystery of the Succubus.” Fer’inj responded.
“Yes, the Succubus. She does represent a mystery. What was she doing in Shuuth?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Shallahai asked.
“The Succubus killed the merchant in Shuuth and then came here in his disguise. If she merely meant to hide, she could have killed any merchant in Turgos, perhaps one from Mage Point or Tarsis. Why the need to travel to Shuuth for that purpose? I’d wager that was not the reason she was in Shuuth.” I responded.
“Then why?” Shallahai asked.
Hu Li joined us just then.
“What are we talking about?” He interrupted.
“Evora was just postulating that the Succubus was in Shuuth for some nefarious reason other than to kill the merchant.” Shallahai explained.
“Well, of course she was. I didn’t know you were that dim priest.” Hu Li responded.
I sighed.
“Ok, I’ll bite. Why do you think she was there, Hu Li?” I asked.
“Well didn’t Duke Devonhilt tell you that Malfoy was raising an army to invade the Wildlands?” Hu Li asked.
“Yes. But what does that have to do with the price of tea in the Thassaline?” I asked.
Hu Li rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he began to explain as if talking to a child.
“Where will all of the able-bodied men of Turgos be when Malfoy invades the Wildlands?” Hu Li asked rhetorically and paused for impact.
"And didn't the Succubus free Veshra so that Veshra could free Kharas'Vhoories? If Allustan is correct, where will all the attention of all of the beings of power in Turgos be focused when Kharas'Vhoories is freed?" Hu Li finished.
Shallahai and I looked at each other simultaneously, our expressions flooding with understanding.
“Shuuth is going to invade Turgos!” Shallahai exclaimed.
I gasped. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, Hu Li!” I yelled.
Hu Li rolled his eyes dramatically….again.
“I didn’t think it needed spelling out. It was quite obvious to me once the Shuuthian explained the circumstances of his presence in Turgos.” Hu Li responded exasperatedly. “Did you even go to school?” He asked rhetorically and walked away.
I watched the wizard retreat into the tower, mouth agape.
“Fer’inj, you must discover if this rumor is true.” Shallahai said.
“I intend to, my friends. If Shuuth intends to invade Turgos due to the machinations of a succubus, only the infernal host will gain from such an endeavor. I will find out what I can and try to get word to you.” Fer’inj smiled and clasped Shallahai’s hand.
“Thank you, Fer’inj.” I said, smiling slightly.
“I must go now. It is growing dark, your ritual will begin shortly. This place makes me uncomfortable.” Fer’inj stated as he got up and brushed himself off.
Shallahai and I rose together.
“Farewell, friend.” I said, clasping Fer’inj’s hand in friendship.
“Farewell.” He replied.
After the druid was off, Shallahai and I returned to our meditations. I silently prayed to Canaan that Fer’inj would make it safely home.
Several hours passed.
“Balian is ready for us.” Talon emerged from the Tower and beckoned to us.
“Coming.” I answered for both of us.
“Come on, Shallahai, it is time.” I smiled as I rose and offered my hand to the druid. He took it and rose.
“Now we shall see what all of this mystery is about.” The Druid responded.
