Tag Archives: mystery

How Old Are the Tears

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In the new timeline, as the group walks from the old warrior burial area — that no longer exists — to the grotto where the Monastery of the Eagles stands in another timeline. The group walks and Alexis thinks out loud, turning the Collegium ring on his finger.

“How old are the Tears, actually?”

A few steps.

“The Crone gave them to humanity to save humanity. But they were already in play at the Great Betrayal, at the end of the Second League.” He turns the Collegium ring once. “Which means there was a time before the Great Betrayal when Avv decided humanity needed saving. The Age of Wyrms? The Great Upheaval? Earlier?”

He frowns slightly.

“Humanity needed saving at the Great Betrayal. That’s clear. But if the Tears predate even that, what were we being saved from before?” He looks at the path ahead. “The Age of Wyrms? The time of the crafting of the Sword Chaotic? The time of the Saggi, the Akkil, and the demon-gods?” He shakes his head. “What was so dire, that all the other times pale in comparison?”

He doesn’t seem to expect an answer.

The Lament of the Twice-Blooded King

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Sundered was he in the womb of disdain,
Seed of two hatreds, of iron and rain;
Split was his cradle ’twixt tusk and fair ear,
Child of no hearth-fire, sworn unto fear.

High did he climb by the ladder of slain,
Hewn from the marrow of scholar and thane;
Hallowed the bones that he set for his stair,
Hungering upward through incense and prayer.

Ash fell as snow when the Second Sun broke,
Altars lay silent, and empires lay smoke;
All of the banners were blackened with flame,
All of the chronicles swallowed his name.

Shadow-crowned warlord, unblessed yet adored,
Seeker of godhood by blade and by word;
Silent he stood where the firmament tore,
Swearing the heavens would bar him no more.

Half-dead, half-living, in memory chained,
Held in the rot where old ages are stained;
Hushed is his breathing, yet restless his will,
Hunger unquenched in the hollows of still.

Ever he drinketh of mortal desire,
Envy and pride are the oil of his fire,
Eager are princes who feed him with ore,
Edged in red iron and promise of war.

Red are the sands where his heralds conspire,
Rivers of steel for the dark of his pyre;
Ruin is bartered in markets of flame,
Raised are the armies that march in his name.

** Alexis orates this two mornings after his dream of Raiden

Guided by Raiden

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Alexis dreams he stood upon a vast grassland beneath a gray morning sky.The grass reached nearly to his knees and rolled away in every direction, untouched by road or wall. Far away stood the dark line of a forest. Beyond it rose mountains crowned with snow. There was no temple. No throne. No choir. Only wind.

Then Alexis noticed a man walking toward him through the grass. He was tall and weathered, dressed not as a god but as an old warrior returning from a long campaign. His cloak was patched. His boots were muddy. An ancient sword hung at his side, and across his shoulders he carried a bow. His face seemed softened by humility. His eyes were tired. But kind. Alexis knew him immediately. Raiden.

Raiden stopped beside him and looked toward the mountains. For a long while, the god said nothing. Finally… “Men build walls when they are frightened.”

Raiden picked a blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers. “Then they build higher walls because the first did not make them less afraid.” He looked toward Alexis. “Shasharak built no wall of stone.”

The wind strengthened. The grassland vanished.

Alexis saw an ancient city beneath a burning sky. Armies marched beneath banners he did not recognize. Orcs, goblins, elves, humans, and creatures stranger still fought among shattered towers. Standing above them was a figure Alexis could never see clearly. Tall. Thin. Neither elf nor orc. Both elf and orc. Every time Alexis tried to see his face, smoke crossed the dream.

Raiden spoke beside him. “He believed the world had failed because those entrusted with its protection were too weak to command it.”

The scene changed. Shasharak stood upon a mountain surrounded by bodies. Above him burned lights like stars. The Gods. Shasharak reached toward them. And the heavens recoiled.

Raiden said: “He mistook obedience for unity.”

The vision changed again. Now Alexis saw Shasharak falling. But his shadow did not fall with him. It remained standing. Waiting. The centuries passed around that shadow. Kingdoms rose. Kingdoms disappeared. Forests grew where cities had stood. Still the shadow waited. Then someone approached it. A man carrying the symbol of a black and red hand. Bandesingh. The shadow turned toward him.

Raiden’s voice became grim. “Some enemies need not survive in flesh. Hatred can preserve a man longer than blood.”

Alexis asks “Is Shasharak returning?”

Raiden does not answer. Instead he draws his sword and drives it into the earth. The ground splits. Deep beneath it Alexis sees something crimson glowing in darkness. The Tear of Avv.

Raiden looks directly at him. “The old powers are moving again. Some will tell you that power must be destroyed. Others will tell you that it must be possessed. Beware both.”

Then Raiden steps closer. “You  hold something kings would murder nations to possess. Do not ask whether you are strong enough to wield it.” His expression becomes severe. “Ask whether you are strong enough to surrender it.”

Then the wind rises. Raiden disappears.

But his sword remains buried in the earth. Wrapped around its blade is a single strand of crimson thread.

Alexis awakens.

Jet-Black Identification, Part 2

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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

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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.”

Which Dark Power Is Trying to Rise?

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A few nights into the camp east of Nodden-Torr, as the group sits down to eat togehther.

“The Made feed on a wound. That is what makes the dead god weep. And the wound gets poisoned. Every day, with blood.”

“Drayek is the god of poison.”

Alexis’ hand grazes against the shield of Raiden that hangs at his neck..

“Drayek’s whose cult put its name to a pact with Shasharak, on that wall out in the Westlands. The terms can’t be read, but it’s clear someone was owed something.”

Alexis pauses, sitting with this. He’s been thinking about these things, but is still thinking.

“As I see it: three ways to read what Bandesingh is doing.”

“One. He raises Ath, and brings darkness on the world by bringing back the god of betrayal.”

“Two. He raises Shasharak and Ath was supposed to be the cost paid. When I gave Vorgoth the name Bandesingh, he answered that Shasharak has found another road. Perhaps this is a coincidence. But we know that Dauntless contained a piece of Ath, and Dauntless was created to battle blood magic. This is leading me to wonder if Ath is actually the god of treachery. Ath being the father of Drayek, feels like it plays into what’s going on, but I’m not sure how.”

“Three. Something else, but my gut says no.”

“Raiden and Avv want us to stop whatever darkness Bandesingh is trying to unleash on us all. We’ll be better prepared if we know what exactly Bandesingh is attempting.”

Alexis looks around the group to see if anyone else has anything to add.

Where is Our Barrick (of Ty-Linn?)

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A few nights into the camp east of Nodden-Torr. Alexis waits until the group is gathered between their individual tasks.

“I’m feeling more confident that the Barrick who went into that mountain is Barrick of Ghanil.”

“Same name, and not a common one. And there are a lot of big events surrounding this Barrick. The ones we know about: the Ty-Lin garden, the Ty-Lin warding of King Ilceros’ tomb, the orcish runes covering his body, retrieving a Tear of Avv. And the big event we’re not sure about: him giving comfort and solace to a village of refugees.”

A silver piece starts over his knuckles.

“And Rotheldod said that Barrick was the least ‘betrayer’ of the group, which fits someone who would tend to a village of refugees… when looked at through a Rotheldod lens.”

“When we were arguing over the Thater refugees I told Telosh I was no Barrick of Ghanil, not realizing I might actually someday follow in his footsteps.”

The coin stops. Alexis twirls it in his palm.

“Barrick and his group got their Tear, which they can’t have gotten in this when. But I assume the refugees in Gahnil were still tended by Barrick. So where is he in our when?”

When Did the Sky Break?

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A few nights into the camp east of Nodden-Torr after the group has left the time-vault, well out past the fire. A pale shape sits on a branch a little above him, about the size of the owl. Alexis paces below.

“Vorgoth told me no mortal had crossed his bridge since the sky broke.”

“I’ve been taking that for the Great Betrayal. Two other possible dates. The Great Upheaval. The Time of Wyrms and Darkness. Both of them sit well before the Second League.”

“But the coins in the griffins’ nest were second age. Every one of them. Whoever built that place, almost certainly built it in the second age, so both the other dates are too early.”

“Or something inside the second age…”

Alexis shrugs. He turns the Collegium ring, thinking of all the history books he now wishes he had actually read.

“But maybe I need to look at this all different.”

“He’s a fire giant. A giant’s words, a human calendar.”

“Some in the Collegium say fire giants live in volcanos. Some say they come from an entirely different plane.” A pause. “I had him in front of me and there was so much I would have liked to have asked him.”

“If the sky broke and put him here… then it’s his people’s word for their own arrival and it has nothing to do with our second age at all.”

Alexis gestures farewell to his audience, but it’s not there. Surely he would have heard it fly away. His hearing has been much better since he started wearing the ring of the Spider.

Someone Wrote Back (Drayek’s Temple Wall)

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

“Shasharak. 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 Shasharak.”

“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 Shasharak’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

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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?”