Jet-Black Identification, Part 2

The camp is barely up. Gustav, Rask, and Ca’armine are out after food. Alexis works the jet-black ring off his finger and sits down across from Ethelred with it in his palm.

“Red. I want to test this one properly.” Alexis clearly wants to do more than they’ve done before.

“You remember the story on it? The crone at the trading post in the Westlands.”

Alexis waits for the answer before he goes on.

“Here’s what I’ve been sitting on. We’ve been calling it the jet-black ring. That’s a color. Nobody has ever put a name to what it’s actually made of.”

“So we start there. If it comes back jet, great. If it comes back something else, that’s the first thing of consequence we’ll have gotten.”

Alexis gives a slight shrug combined with a nod to the side with his head.

“Then light. I try to put Raiden’s light onto it. Then possibly into it.”

“Then the next parts.”

“Whether it hides anything besides itself. We set it next to something we already understand and see if that thing gets harder to read with it sitting there. If it does, a ring that does nothing has just done something.”

“Whether it changes me. It comes off for a full day, and you watch me and not the ring.”

“Whether it does anything for a body in a bad spot, which means putting me in one. Water to stand on. A short drop onto something soft with a rope on me. A wall to try. A candle before anything hotter. Small first, and you pick how small.”

“I realized I never checked it for certain kinds of secrets. I’ll try those next. Mostly of the invisible kind, but also checking to see if it has alignment to the greater powers that isn’t more-easily determined.”

“And I want to see if you can wear it, and what might happen if you do.”

Alexis turns the ring over in his palm.

“Anything I’ve forgotten? Anything else to add? Other effects I might not be thinking about?”

To Be Informed Is To Be Forearmed

The island on the water level. The others sleep between the two palm trees. Alexis takes the far one.

He told them at the fire what his working was for. The Tear is close and he wants the guidance of the Inner Watch on the tear and the taint. Rask seemed to like the idea.

The carving takes most of the night. He scrapes the sand down to the wet layer and cuts it with the butt of his whip, a section at a time, sitting back to look along the line and then leaning in again.

What it comes out as, for anyone who woke and looked: a wall, drawn as a closed ring around the foot of the tree. Set into the inside of the wall, facing in, a single open eye.

Then he sits back on his heels and lets his eyes go, and for a long while nothing happens at all.

The sand inside the ring starts glowing faintly, evenly. The dim light fades and comes back. Haze comes off the water somewhere in there and settles at knee height around Alexis and his glowing working.

“It answers in the voice you expect,” Alexis mutters to himself.

“The Second Sun was broken and it was called progress as the ruins of what was wrought was stepped on.”

Later.

“The ancients keep it in in rings nobody wears.”

The light under the sand goes almost out, and returns.

“There are shadows around it, it doesn’t throw.”

“The ladder of the gods was climbed with mortal bones and entry was denied, but hubris never ends.”

“It seeks out its others. Its others are itself.”

A long time after that, quieter.

“You will be asked to set it down. Once by a one who wants it. Once by a one who loves you.”

“The one is supported by the two.”

Find the one who feeds him iron and blood... the one who believes he can control him

His hands are flat on the sand.

“It remembers.”

The haze is gone by the time he comes back to himself, and the sand has stopped giving light. His knees have locked. Alexis works the feeling into them, then goes around the ring on his hands and knees, putting the sand back in place.

“Well,” he says. “That’s more than I had.”

Doubts and Questions

Late into the two weeks of contemplation, exercise and study, Rask approaches Ca’armine while the others are busy with their work.

“Ca’armine, do you have moment to talk?” Rask asks quietly and nods his head to the side a bit to indicate privacy.

The two step away from the others a bit and Rask continues quietly.

“Things have changed. This… is not the same world we left. We all can see it, I can feel the raw power of Aegir again, you can feel Raiden again right?”

Rask pauses for Ca’armine to affirm.

“I have been focused on stopping the Dark Hand, stopping Bandesing, it’s why we joined this group. What if Bandesing doesn’t exist here Ca’armine? Did we defeat the Dark Hand by changing history? Is there a new enemy we don’t even know about?”

Rask is confused, uncertain and concerned, even vulnerable.

Of Aegier

During the few times Ethelred catches glimpse of Rask’s tattoos he notices something. Maybe it is this latest set of scrolls from the Colleguim. Maybe something else from the recent adventure.

Red notices that Rask’s tattoos are not specifically Radien focused. There are elements of course. But the designs seem very focused on Aegier itself. As if the lands themselves have power.

“Rask, I have noticed that your tattoos are not what I had expected. It seems they are not as focused on Raiden as I had assumed.”

“I have been studying runes with this most recent batch of scrolls. Has given me a new appreciation for the design, the intent, the effects of such workings.”

“What can you tell me of the designs? The effects? What meaning they have to you?”

Mushrooms

Ca’armine has trouble settling down, the first few days in the wild.  The last few days his world—did he even think of “world” in the same way before?—has been turned upside down.  The sense, of not feeling Raiden’s presence, haunts him.  And now?  Raiden is there when Ca’armine reaches out, but it’s different somehow.  He doesn’t know how exactly, yet. Things are different. 

The monastery wasn’t there anymore.  Tumble down stones, he imagined– but they weren’t there.  Every member of the team, walked past the clearing.  All of them saw it.  All of them looked a second time.  None of them stopped. 

We knew things were different right then.  We were back in the world.  But things were deeply different.

On the third day—praying to Raiden every day, communing with his god, but on a level that maintained, rather than grew, their bond—he realized that he was different

Not the person who had walked into Nodden-Tor. 

First he prepared his spells for the day, then he checked in with his team to let them know he would be away.  He put on his pack, with nothing in it but a water skin and a blanket, strapped a knife on his belt, and set forth.  After a few minutes, he picked up speed and ran across the clearings between trees, to get space between himself and the area he had already explored, hunted, and knew well.

He did not stop to forage or hunt on the first day, so when night came he laid down hungry.  He woke up with the sun, already feeling better.  Today he did not commune with Raiden.  He got up and started running.again.

Before the sun got back to midheaven, though, he felt the fatigue start to slow him, and he started hunting instead.  The knife was the wrong tool, so he made a spear.  He found a muddle of rabbit tracks in a bit, and held still by a maple tree until the rabbits felt confident to leave their holes.  He got two.  Tying them up he started looking for  downed wood and a place to build a fire. 

Along with the wood, he found some mushrooms.  Intrigued, he examined them.  When crushed the stems turned blue.  He gathered all of them, and he moved on with cooking.  Why not grab some salt on the way out of camp!  Ca’armine laughed at himself and ate the damn coneys.  With some of the mushrooms.

Things got different then. 

Eating the bluing mushrooms, had been an important point in his first months away from the Raidensblud.  Long ago, there was a random night at a random inn, when a fellow-traveler had offered him a soil-bound cluster of the same type, warning him they were “strong.”  They roamed around together that night, until Rion—Ca’armine thought he was probably a thief by trade though he said he was in “real estate”—said he needed to lie down.  That was the night Ca’armine realized that, he must be a servant of Raiden, without being a tool of the Raidensblud.  It was compicated, it was intense, it was revelatory.  For awhile he thought he might be a druid.

Ca’armine spent the whole night under the stars that night, communing with Raiden and feeling the earth.  The mushrooms made him vomit of course, they always did—so in the morning he felt the pangs of hunger intensely.  When the partridges came out in the early morning he knocked one down with a well-aimed stone, and cooked breakfast in the same fire.  He started walking back to the party’s loose encampment.

When he resumed his training the next day, and rejoined his comrades in training activities, he found a change in his perspectives.  An additional dimensionality—time, frequently, fittingly—using greater spell complexity to achieve greater effects.  Finding capacity for closer and more frequent communion with Raiden.  Expanding on the ability to protect from, and even to purge, evil attachment. Growing more powerful.

This world might be different from the one where he was born.  But it’s the world where he lives.  Where he serves Raiden. 

Thereafter, he spends time every day seeking out components from the forest around, especially bluing mushrooms, and making incense with those components. 

Someone Wrote Back (Drayek’s Temple Wall)

A few nights into the camp east of Nodden-Torr. Alexis waits until the four of them are looking at him.

“Shasherak. Drayek. And Deragoth.”

“I’m not sure you remember what Drayek’s temple in the Westlands told us. One stretch of that carving was still readable. It recorded an alliance between Drayek’s cult and a power it called Shasherak.”

“The exact agreement was lost to disturbance and time, other than one of them was owed something.”

“There was newer carving on the same wall: ‘The Hand that Reaches, the Crown that Binds, the Blood that Wakes the Fallen.'”

“I took that as a prophesy. I think it’s a reply. Somebody read what I read and wrote underneath it what they mean to do.”

“Avv gave it back to me in a dream. Not all three of it. Just one line. ‘The Blood that Wakes the Fallen. You must stop him.'” Alexis squints his eyes. “Him.”

“The Hand we’ve had our hands on for a couple years now. The blood I can name. The crown…” Alexis asks the question “Ædelfred?”

The fire crackles.

“And Deragoth. He was Shasherak’s. The stories give him cursed armor made out of the skin of the enemies he killed. The armor Ezrin probably wears now.”

Three Cheers for Decadence

A couple of days into the camp east of Nodden-Torr after the Crimson Calling leaves the time-vault. The evening meal is finished and nobody has moved yet. Alexis tips his hat back off his forehead and turns to Ethelred.

“I’m thinking back to you getting the bomba fruit seed, and planting it in Ty-Lin’s garden. That fruit. It resonated with decadence. It was a tropical fruit in deep winter.”

Alexis looks into the fire.

“Many in the Collegium say that the fey deal in decadence. And Hadonis. Oils. Salves. Somehow he still had dates after 2 years. And a very decadent god.”

Alexis looks up at his companions.

“Many call Sutheron a decadent city, and for good reason. You can get bomba fruits there 3 months of the year.” A slight shrug. “I miss bomba fruits.”

“Do our collegium writings say anything about the ‘school’ of decadence?”

Vorgoth, Raiden, Bandesingh, and Shasherak

The Crimson Calling has arrived at their camp site east of Nodden-Torr, and the rangers are finalizing the details before camp is truly struck. Alexis has wrapped his winter blanket around him. He waits until the four others are near enough that he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

“Good job” Nodding at Gustav, Ca’armine, and Rask. “Before we settle in. A thought gnawing at me since the fire lake. At the time when I spoke with Vorgoth, I was just giving you all my best translations, but I was also distracted by listening to him. He said a few things that require reflection.”

A silver piece starts over his knuckles.

“I’d given him the name Bandesingh, and that he means to bring back Ath and put the world in darkness. He’d never heard of the man in his life.”

“He said: ‘Bandesingh. Another one who mistakes certainty for wisdom.'”

The coin walks.

“Then: ‘So. Shasherak has found another road. The dragon believed he would.'”

He lets that stand a moment.

“A few ways I can take ‘another road’.”

“One. Bandesingh is the road. Plain reading. I asked all of you a while back whether Bandesingh learned his trade from Shasherak or whether two men arrived at the same answer on their own. If Vorgoth’s right, that’s answered.” Alexis shugs as-if a mystery could be checked off his list.

“Two. Another road to a Tear, not to this Tear.” Alexis points to his belt pouch “Bandesingh has two. If what Shasherak wanted was one of these and not our particular one, he got it centuries ago, and we never really thwarted Shasherak.”

“Three. Another road to what he actually wanted, which was to be a god. The Tear in the time-vault was one way. He found a different one.”

“Four.” The coin stops. “‘The dragon believed he would.’ He planned for a man to go around him. Whatever he built in there, he built it knowing it would be walked past, and then he left it to five strangers seven hundred years (or longer) later.” A slight shrug, and a nod off to the side. “There’s a possibility that we were the arrangement the Dragon made for losing.”

He pockets the coin.

“But back to Vorgoth.”

“I handed him the name of Bandesingh, which he had never heard and two lines about a man alive right now. He didn’t ask me a single question. He set him beside Shasherak on the spot.”

“Earlier in that conversation I’d said Raiden. He said, ‘You say Raiden, the last true king. I saw him once in the flames.'”

“Vorgoth has stood in that room since at least some time in the 2nd age. Raiden doesn’t rise until a minimum of one hundred and sixty years after that. He cannot have seen him. Not face-to-face.”

“So. He sees forward in that fire. Or standing outside of time he’s able to see time flow outside the time-vault, which would make that fire room a stranger place than we initially gathered.”

Alexis’ tone shifts to light-hearted, almost joking “Or he has simply met enough men like Bandesingh to know one by the smell.”

The coin starts walking his fingers again and Alexis looks at his companions for any possible insights they might have.

Still in There

The Crimson Calling walks east through the snow, away from what’s left of Nodden-Torr. The Tear sits in Alexis’s belt pouch and throws no shadow, and the light it gives is enough to walk by. Nobody has gotten used to it.

He turns the Collegium ring on his finger.

“Red.” He waits until Ethelred looks over. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

A few steps.

“Vorgoth held that bridge for centuries. Nobody crossed since the sky broke. I believe him.” He watches his breath in the cold air. “Six to eight people went in two years ago after the Tear. Never came out. No trace. Vorgoth never saw them enter and never saw them leave.” A beat. “Both true at the same time, in one place.”

Snow crunches for a while.

“Unless they weren’t in the same when.”

He lets that sit.

“The Dragon built that vault to last. And it did last, for hundreds of years, maybe more than a thousand. That’s an extraordinary working. Impossible to imagine it holding that long from just the power of the Dragon, even how powerful he clearly was.” He glances at Ethelred. “But the Tear was sitting at the center of it the whole time. A greater artifact of a very old god. That’s a different kind of engine entirely. The vault wasn’t running on what the Dragon put into it. It was running on the Tear.”

A few more steps.

“And the dungeon below, that was different. We saw a working down there that had gone wrong, maybe from the group that came through two years before us. Something they touched that they shouldn’t have. But up in the tower, no two parties ever overlapped. No interference.” He turns the ring once.

He looks over at Ethelred.

“Which means we didn’t take the Tear out of a vault. We took it out of history. Right now, as we’re walking, Nodden-Torr behind us has always been a place where the Tear was removed at the end of the second age.” A pause. “The world we’re walking back into is not quite the world we left.”

He thinks briefly of Sutheron. Keeps walking.

“And the Dragon. He wasn’t fading because the vault was losing him. He was fading because we were taking the Tear. Every step we made toward it, the engine was winding down. By the time we claimed it, the vault had already started becoming a place where the Tear had never been.” He nods, mostly to himself. “He knew. He was pushing us toward it and out at the same time.”

A dozen steps.

“But here’s what I keep turning over.” He reaches up, touches the brim of his hat briefly. “Hadonis is back in our timeline right now, and to him the Tear is still in that vault. The six to eight who went in before us, Hadonis said they made it to the Tear. Vorgoth said nobody passed him. Both true.” He pauses. “Which means they’re not in the vault and they’re not in our when either. They’re somewhere else entirely, holding a Tear of their own.”

He looks down at his belt pouch.

“The vault still exists. It will keep existing until someone unwinds what the Dragon built and puts the timeline back in order. Whether that’s a problem or a gift, I genuinely don’t know. The Tear is doing its work in more than one when at the same time.” He shakes his head slightly. “That’s above my pay. Nardor Threpp could sort it. We have other work.”

He looks at Ethelred.

“Is there more I’m not seeing?”

Pelts against the cold and more

(taking place as we get settled into our level up spot)

Red approaches Gustav

“Gustav, we both are without any protection from both enemies and the cold. Can we work together to fix this issue?

I would like to talk you about what you want from new armor? You seemed to always try and make yourself dirty, to dull the finish on your armor. Since I will be making the armor for you, let me know what I could do to make it work best for you.

For myself I need some very very fine armor. I doubt I will have the time right now to craft such armor. Time is always an issue.”

Red sighs and let’s his mind reflect on chronomancy.