[M] Runes

[Katrina]

Upon hearing Wanderer’s objections to Red’s methods, she climbed to her feet and walked briskly towards the group. She clutched the book to her soaked chest again, and pulled down the wet scarf from over her mouth. “How is what I want to do to the red mage ANY different from what you want to do to the leveler?!” She yelled angrily.
Suddenly, she held up one gloved hand, open palm facing the Wanderer, and tilted her chin down. Her visible lips parted and drew and released a long breath.

“I am a hunter.” She thought. “Control... Control. Yourself. Anger will only get in the way. Arrogance will destroy the footholds of your own victory.”

After a few seconds of silence, she simultaneously lowered her hand and raised her head. When she spoke again, her voice was low and calm. Almost as if she were bored.

“One, I’m not a coward. And I have no desire to involve myself in your war. You can deal with the leveler however you like for your own reasons. I have my own concerns. I won’t get in your way if you don’t get in mine.” She hesitated noticeably, but eventually peeled the book away from her chest and held it out with one hand to the wanderer. She looked to Solar.

“And two-“ when she held up her free hand to indicate with two gloved fingers, a trickle of water streamed from her curled pinky down onto the sand. Red sighed exasperatedly, then carelessly dropped the book on the sand in front of Wanderer, clearly done with the troublesome thing. She ripped off her gloves and started wringing the water out. “Two. Solar. Wanderer. Ambie. And so on. I’ll call you all by your PREFERRED names if you call me by mine. Never mind this true-name bullshit. I’ll forget everything I just heard, with the expectation you do the same for me.” She pulled her damped gloves back onto her hands and unwound her scarf from her neck to wring it out next.
“And three. You.” She looked back to Solar. “The red mage. What is his mage name? Most importantly, why does he wear red? What does the color mean to him? Why the color red?”

[Scottie]

The wanderer would not lie. The way the woman came rushing over to them with emotion obviously playing with her mind….well, she looked like a child throwing a tantrum. The wanderer blinked slowly, did this newcomer really not realise the difference between the Leveller and her supposed enemy of the Red mage. Anger rippled through the air and a hand was raised. The childish demeanour was quickly broken and she was reminded that this woman had power. Keeping the immortal tight in her left hand, her right hand gripped her faithful pickaxe. She raised the weapon to waist height and narrowed her eyes. “We are not your enemy.” She told the woman bluntly.

All humour and motherly sternness left her voice. The woman was near to attacking them...which made her a threat. The wanderer let her speak. It was obvious that Red needed to let off steam. The montoneness of her voice made the wanderer feel as if Red was talking down to her. Her axe did not sway from waist height the entire monologue. “Your concerns mean nothing.” She told this child. “You involved yourself in our war when you decided to prance into a battle that you had no place in.” The wanderer moved forward towards the one called Red, her annoyance clear over her features. “You did not know this Red man until you came upon us. You are just annoyed that he bested you.”

The book was held out to her but she ignored it. All trust in this woman had evaporated the moment she raised her hand to them. Her skin was taut over her knuckles as she remained prepared for any attack, even though the woman now looked….bored with them. The book was dropped to the ground as if it were nothing. She knew that would warrant a gasp from the Ambassador, this wasn’t a dusty old book...but a relic...something precious. “No.” She raised the Immortals head towards Solar, hoping that the disgruntled look of the loaf would interrupt the gob of the mouthy Solar. The questions she asked were so ridiculously childish that it hurt the wanderer to even contemplate what would force the woman to ask them. “You do not get this Red mage’s name. We are using this book for one name only. The Mer gave it to us for one name only. This is not a toy for you to use in your stupid quest for vengeance. The Leveller is tearing apart cities, she is destroying every we know….The Red mage bested you in a fight...Get over it.”

Her gaze dropped to the book now littered in small specks of sand. She let herself crouch and placed her axe to her side. The heavy iron sunk gracefully into the sand as the wanderer let her fingers slide around the dry material. Returning to standing, she let her eyes snap back to Red. “The difference is….We cannot defeat the Leveller...even if all of us worked together, she will still burn this land….Your Red mage...if he pains you so much...then I will help you defeat him…without knowing his name. Your strength means nothing when you make him but a weak child to vanquish.”

[Azazeal849]

The group looked from Red to Wanderer, tensely. The Ambassador, for her part, was still staring open-mouthed at the shallow crater where her treasured Book of Names had been unceremoniously dropped into the sand.

“She makes a good point.” the Immortal piped up, seemingly siding with Wanderer. “But on the other hand, Naming your enemies is easy, and like I said I’m all for keeping things simple.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Solar scowled. “Leveler or Redmoor or whoever else those pricks at the gate were, let’s just find out their names and send them down for crimes of passion, crimes of fashion and being a bunch of gods-damn miserable bitches.”

He snatched the book out of Wanderer’s hand and opened it at a random page. He paused.

“What?” he murmured, turning the page, and then another, leafing through the small tome with increasing frustration. “What the fuck is this writing?”

Illusion peered over his shoulder. “It looks a bit like Ash but...I’m sorry, I can’t read it.”

The Immortal huffed out an aggrieved breath. “Of for gods’ sake...let me see.”

Solar held up the small book. Red saw that it was as Illusion had said. Wanderer, who had never been taught to read but could recognise the jagged spikes of Ash script from documents she had seen around her master’s house, understood that the writing in the book was similar but not identical.

“Ah.” the Immortal said. “It’s Ancient Ash.”

“Book is old.” the Ambassador put in, unhelpfully. “Given many Landwalker lifetimes ago.”

“Great.” Solar huffed. He turned to the Immortal with folded arms. “Can you read it?”

The Immortal twisted his mouth, as if loath to confirm a failing. “No.” he admitted at last, “But I have a friend who can. Now give the lady back the book, you dolt. I would prefer someone halfway competent to-”

The Immortal broke off as a tan-skinned villager came shuffling down the beach towards them. He wore simple clothes and was carrying a clay jug in his arms. Illusion tugged the corner of Wanderer’s damp tunic until she too turned and registered the newcomer.

The villager halted when he got close enough to see the Ambassador’s black-in-black eyes. “So it’s true…” He jumped back, and began stammering a Light prayer.

“Can we help you?” Illusion asked to draw the man’s attention, her tone polite but guarded.

The villager hesitated for a moment, before rallying and holding out the jug by way of explanation. “I brought you wine.”

Solar narrowed his eyes. “Uh huh? Why?”

“Er, to drink mostly...” The villager trailed off lamely, still looking nervous. “Why are you so suspicious?”

Solar sniffed, and the others could tell that he was thinking of Davin’s recent betrayal. “Experience. Why are you here?”

“One of the Enlightened Ones.” the villager said, lowering his voice to a fearful whisper. “He appeared...he was hurt...he said a group of mages and a…”

The man glanced again at the Ambassador.

“And a Mer would be passing nearby. We told him about the runesigns from the mountains, but then I saw you all coming out of the sea...”

“Where is he?” the Wraith asked neutrally.

The villager glanced fearfully up at Wraith’s iron mask, then pointed back up the sand dunes towards the mudbrick buildings. Beneath an awning, a dark-skinned man had been made comfortable with cushions made from rolled blankets. He was broad-shouldered and clad in armour, but his slumped posture spoke of pain.

“That’s the Scorpion.” Illusion frowned. “What’s he doing here?”

“I like him.” the Ambassador opined. The Mer had spread her blue-pale arms and was swinging her upper body from side to side, apparently enjoying the sea breeze that was blowing her salty tunic dry. “Scorpion is like cold iron.”

“What,” the Immortal snarked, “Brittle and improved by beating?”

The villager dropped his jug, which landed with a thump in the coarse sand. His eyes bulged as they zeroed in on the talking severed head.

“Now look what you’ve done.” the Immortal said, with a sigh of frustration as he watched the wine spilling and sinking into the sand. “Go on, fuck off home. If I’m the worst thing you see today you’ll be lucky.”

The villager picked up his fallen wine jug and scurried away, leaving the group to trudge up the beach at their own pace. The Scorpion looked up wearily as they approached, but made no attempt to rise. His left arm was clamped around his body, holding a wound in his side that had been crudely dressed. Blood stained the linen, but it was clearly not the wound that had sapped him of his strength. Sweat glistened on his umber face as his eyes rolled slowly from the Ambassador to the mages accompanying her.

“Go away.” he rumbled weakly. “The Enlightened do not speak to plebs.”

Solar made an elaborate charade of looking left and right. “You’re the only Enlightened here.”

The Scorpion coughed, and cuffed away a line of blood that suddenly trickled from his nose. “Well then, it’s unanimous.”

“Talk to me then.” said the Immortal.

The Scorpion coughed again, and tipped back his head with what looked like a great effort. When he finally registered the head that Wanderer was cradling, his eyes widened almost as much as the villager’s had.

“Immortal?” he rasped thickly. “Shattered Gods! You’re a…”

“Yes I know!” the Immortal shouted, cutting off the end of the Scorpion’s sentence. “Did you really think I hadn’t noticed!?”

The Scorpion slumped back on his blankets with a creak of shifting armour, and let out what might have been a hoarse laugh. “That’s the good news, then.”

“Oh yes.” the Immortal agreed sarcastically. “Excellent.”

The Scorpion drew a rattling breath. “The bad news is, the Leveler’s army rolled over the Enlightened City while you were all messing around out here.”

“Oh.” the Immortal said, twisting his mouth as if the news was of little import. “Excrement.”

The group looked at each other. Solar and Illusion, both born in the Lightmen city, could not hide their consternation. “But…” Solar ventured, with rare seriousness. “My home…my family...”

“I can see that this is a scary time for you.” the Immortal intoned soberly. “So if you need moral support...please, please don’t come whinging to me.”

“Shut up!” Illusion shouted, shocking both herself and the Immortal into silence. Her hand drifted up to thumb her necklace. “How?” she asked at last.

The Scorpion was quiet for a few moments, as if reluctant to say.

“It was terrible.” he admitted eventually. “Half the army went over to her, but the faithful...they stayed.”

“What happened?” Illusion pressed, her hand still scrabbling for comfort in her pendant.

The Scorpion chuckled bitterly. “What usually happens when people armed with faith go up against people armed with spears.” He stared at the Mer accusingly. “You failed us, abomination. The Leveler can’t be stopped. She’s a bringer of death.”

“And yet you live.” the Immortal pointed out waspishly.

“What about the other Enlightened?” Wraith asked, his tone neutral.

“By now?” The Scorpion wheezed, and cuffed at his nose again. “Dead.”

“How did they die?”

The Scorpion let out a hacking cough. “Horribly, I assume.”

* * * * * *

The room held candles, idols, incense - all the alien trappings of a Light temple. The ritual oils lent the candle flames a sweet smell.

The gold-masked priests had all fled now, leaving the faithful to their fate. Many of the Lightmen had thrown down their weapons - and they had lived, just as her emissaries had promised. And many of them had clung to their gods and their masters - and they had died, just as always happened when lesser men opposed the Leveler.

The Leveler looked up at the godly statues, cast in silver and set upon plinths so that they surveyed the humble gallery. Most of them were the same gods venerated in her own Ash city - she recognised the River God, the Mountain God, the Elder and Younger brothers - only here they were adorned with strange symbols and attended by casts of the snakes and crabs that the Lightmen held sacred.

A scuffling sound drew her gaze downwards, between two of the statues. She saw a tiny figure squatting there, huddled back as if the shadows would protect her. And perhaps they had, at least from the first waves of Ashmen distracted by racing after the Lightmen’s fleeing mercenaries. The second wave, hunting for plunder now that resistance had crumbled, would be less likely to overlook the rich temple.

The street urchin had apparently not had the sense to flee towards the river or the city gates while she still had time. She looked up at the Leveler, pale eyes in a grubby face, turning a single worn coin over in her fingers.

The Leveler didn’t speak Light, so she hissed sharply, making a shooing gesture with her hand. It was sufficient to scare the child into taking to her feet and pattering off towards the open door. The Leveler exhaled down her nose, and paused for a moment until the child was lost to sight between the tightly-crammed mudbrick tenements. It was harsh perhaps, but safer for her.

There would be incidents. Rapes and murders. The city had held out for two days, throwing back the Leveler’s first three assaults and killing many of her soldiers, including the Dark Man and the Emerald. A besieging army was never merciful towards a city that had resisted it. So tomorrow there would have to be executions. The Lightmen would need to see that the new order was just.

Turning, the Leveler stepped out of the temple and back into the chaos of overturned carts and discarded weapons. She stalked through abandoned, blood-slick streets, her cloak fluttering behind her like a conqueror’s mantle. Ahead of her was the vast mustering plaza. Behind her was the clash of steel, the drifting smell of burning houses, and the first screams of a fallen city.

The only people who hadn’t yet accepted defeat were in the temple at the head of the plaza. Atop their great stepped pyramid, the Enlightened had barricaded their temple behind a shimmering blue wall. The marble steps in front of it glistened wetly, in spite of the midday heat. The Leveler recognised the Blue Lady’s runecraft in the ice-locked bodies scattered along the steps, frozen to the stone in contorted, broken shapes. She recognised the Tempest lying dead at the head of his spear company, blood-laced water spilling over his lips from his flooded lungs.

The Leveler heard bronze armour jangling in time to running footsteps, and turned to see her faithful Apprentice hurrying up with reinforcements. In the confines of the city streets, they had relinquished spears and drawn their short leaf-bladed swords, most of which were already stained red.

The Apprentice offered her a nod. She returned it before turning back towards the dead Ashmen littering the pyramid steps. “They still resist.”

The Apprentice knew the look on her face. “The battle’s over, my lady. They must know that. Let me negotiate for you.”

The Leveler pursed her lips. “They might just kill you.”

“Better that than they kill you.”

He was willing to die for her. It was touching. The Leveler squeezed her acolyte’s shoulder. “They won’t yield. You trusted me to fight the Immortal alone. Trust me again now.”

As the Leveler ascended the pyramid, past the bodies of her advance guard, she saw a thin snake - bright green against the marble. It slithered down the steps and disappeared between the cracked stones. She wondered if it was a good omen, or a bad one.

A thick wall of ice barred entrance to the temple at the top, and the runecraft used to summon it rang a steady, high-pitched tone in the Leveler’s ears as she approached. She mustered her own magic, and called forth a bolt of blinding force that shattered the barricade into icy splinters. The temple beyond was dim and firelit, and the concentration of magic within thrummed through her nerves like a painful current.

Crossbow-bolts of solid ice began to hiss out of the dark.

Hello, Blue Lady.

The Leveler swept the frozen missiles aside with a glance and pushed out her hand, forming a fist before jerking it to the side. The blue-clad figure barring her path was swept up and thrown violently into one of the pillars supporting the temple roof. A misshapen figure in a brown robe blurted a cry and ran after her. The Leveler ignored him. The Hunchback was a healer, she had been told, not a fighter; and a coward besides.

She pushed forward into the temple of the Enlightened. The air was thick with incense and the teeth-itching buzz of runecraft. The Leveler’s foot caught an urn standing by the door as she swept by, but the scattered contents as it bowled across the floor revealed only seeds. Seeds? She would never understand the Lightmen and their mind-numbing rituals. Ahead of her was a shallow pool, tiled in mosaic and strewn with bobbing flower petals. Fat priests in white shawls and snake-patterned masks were scattering in all directions, tripping over themselves as they tried to flee. But where were…?

“There you are, Leveler.” croaked a voice in harshly-accented Ash. “I’ve been waiting so long I think my hymen’s grown back.”

The Leveler wheeled round in time to see the Crone with oily tendrils coiling from the air in front of her; thick, tarry ropes of glistening black. The Leveler had thought she was familiar with all runes in the Valley. I guess I was wrong. The tendrils met her countering wards with unpleasant force, splattering across the floor as they tried to lash a way past. A wave of cold needled the Leveler’s skin as she drove them back, raising painful goosebumps on her arms.

The Scorpion was on her right, conjuring black needles that hissed venomously as she deflected them across the floor. The Leveler gritted her teeth against the pressure beginning to build behind her eyes, and flung out a scything bolt that caught the Scorpion across the side. The mage reeled, spun half round by the impact, and droplets of blood spattered across the floor. The Leveler saw him clutch at the wound, look down at his bloody palm, and then up at her. For a moment she saw the fear in his eyes, but then the Scorpion was gone, vanished in a thunderclap of imploding air. Past the ringing in her ears she heard the Crone screeching in Light, no doubt cursing her vanished ally for a traitor.

The Leveler felt the air around her begin to sizzle. With a last effort she hauled herself round and willed out a lance of fiery light that met the black one streaming from the Crone’s fingertips. The two beams clawed and locked around each other, throwing out a corona of sparks as they whiplashed back and forth. The pool in the middle of the temple began to boil, and braziers hit by the discharge toppled, scattering smoke and red-hot coals. Bands of static lightning pulsed through the murk as the two witches duelled. The Leveler could feel the bones in her hands beginning to burn, sending molten wires of pain singing up her arms. The Crone was worse; the Leveler could see blood seeping from her nose, eyes and ears as the Leveler’s beam began to push her own inexorably back.

“Hunchback!” the withered old woman screamed, “Get over here!”

“What’s happening?” the other mage rasped, almost unintelligible as he coughed on the battle-smoke.

The Crone choked, and retched blood to paint her face red from the lips down. “I’m DYING, you eternal pain in my ass!”

The Leveler heard the Hunchback’s footsteps beating against the tiled floor. She didn’t turn around. Instead, she glanced to her left, focusing on one of the overturned braziers. With a tug of will she seized the fire clawing out of it; shaped it; cast it across the room. A dragon’s breath of heat washed over her back and she heard the Hunchback cry out, his howl rising to an obscenely high pitch before abruptly falling silent.

The fire hissed like an angry crocodile, and the duelling light-beams continued to crack and boom as she forced the Crone back. The Leveler could taste iron on her tongue, but she was smiling. Then a new sound registered over the thunder and the spitting flames - a dry, rustling hiss.

Like thorns being dragged across stone.

Seeds. Leveler remembered, too late. The Rose. Her stomach dropped into a pit of cold dread.

She spun round, far too slow, in time to see the vines slithering across the floor towards her. They reared up like striking cobras, lashing around her wrist and elbow as she raised an arm to redirect her wards. The vines flexed with impossible strength, and the Leveler heard a visceral crunch. She had a bewildering moment to register the sight of her elbow bent outwards at an impossible angle, before the pain came roaring up her arm. The shriek that left her mouth didn’t sound like her own - it was too raw; too terrified.

The pain of the break was nothing compared to what followed as the vines twisted, almost languidly, and separated her forearm from her upper with a sound like someone prying a melon apart with their fingers. The Leveler found herself on her back without any memory of having fallen, staring with horrified fascination at the squirting stump of her right arm.

The Crone limped into her tilted field of view, wiping away the blood from her leaking eyes, It had run into the crinkled lines of her face, turning her aspect from aged to monstrous. Her necklace of runestones glinted in the firelight, the scraped symbols upon them wriggling as if alive. The Rose was behind her, dressed all in black, with fire glinting in her eyes.

“So,” the Lightwoman snarled in her butchered Ash. “The mighty Leveler. How many times do you have to hear FUCK OFF before you do what's good for you?”

Behind the shock; behind the blinding, searing pain; something else stirred. It radiated from just above her navel, thrumming up her spine and dragging a single, clear thought to the front of her mind.

Moonstone.

The Leveler took the shock and the pain from her bleeding arm, and crushed it into a diamond-hard spear that she flung towards the gloating Crone with all her willpower. The Crone was snatched up and back, hurled against the far wall with bone-breaking force. The necklace looped around the Crone’s skinny neck snapped, bursting the runestones across the floor in a rattling scatter.

The Leveler rose slowly but steadily to her feet, her gaze a dagger pointed towards the one Enlightened still standing.

“You owe me an arm.” she told the Rose coldly.

The green-weaver mage didn’t reply, her mouth trembling in silent denial. Her eyes were fixed on the stump of the Leveler’s arm as snapped bones and ligaments stretched downward, knitting over with flesh, finally sheathing themselves in pale skin.

The Leveler flexed her regrown fingers, and took a step forward. The vines and thorns that the Rose belatedly tried to conjure in her defence withered black and crumbled at a glance from the other mage.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Leveler told the Rose as she stepped closer. “Where are your gods now?”

She smiled the sweetest knife of a smile.

“Perhaps they’re standing right in front of you.”

The smile twisted and distended, and the Leveler’s armour and cloak slipped from her shoulders as she began to slither up and out through her collar. Fangs the length of knives ripped into flesh and ground against bone as she snapped her mouth closed around the Rose’s shoulder. The weight of her thrashing body bore the smaller mage to the ground but she held on, feeling the blood spurt hot and sickening against her palate, until the Rose’s struggles had subsided to weak spasms, and her screams were just the bubbling of foam between slack lips.

The Leveler rose, feeling her flesh crawl and run like molten wax once again, and stretched out her arms and legs as they reformed. She found herself standing in a broken and burning temple, surrounded by bodies and clothed only in sheets of blood. She cradled her bare stomach, feeling the hard bump of the moonstone set into her skin.

“My lady!” The familiar tongue and accent of a loyal Ashman was reassuring as the soldier ran up and swept a cloak around her blood-sticky shoulders to cover her.

The Leveler turned her head, and saw her Apprentice and his spear company rushing into the temple. How much of the battle did they see? she wondered as she pulled the cloak closed around her breasts, and moved to join them. They saw enough, she surmised - many of them were staring in wonder at her right arm, and reaching out to brush their fingers against it as she passed.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the Apprentice asked, with concern in his young eyes as he fell in beside her.

“Fine.” the Leveler reassured him. It was a lie. She couldn’t feel any of the hands brushing against her new arm. “Someone go find the Hole.” She pointed the nerveless limb at the blood her cowardly nemesis had splashed across the floor. “And tell her to get after the Scorpion if she’d be so kind.”

A spearman saluted and hurried out of the temple. The Apprentice looked pensive as his eyes fell upon the Rose’s savaged body.

“Did she have to die, my lady? She was cowed.”

“She was a slaver.” the Leveler answered, sparing the corpse a glance as she wiped the Rose’s blood from her lips. “She just used chains of faith instead of iron.”

She surveyed the floor. It was fouled with dull-glowing coals and reflective pools of blood, but the fallen runestones outshone them, instinctively drawing the eye. She recognised all but one of them: a jagged and tar-black stone that had rolled away from the Crone’s broken necklace. The Leveler stooped beside it and picked it up.

Ah, she thought, shivering as the power of the new rune surged through her. So that’s how it works.

The Apprentice held out his hand. “Spare those two at least, my lady.”

The Leveler followed his pointing arm, and smiled as she saw the blue-clad figure dragging herself painfully across the floor, towards the weakly-stirring body of the Crone. She drew away from her Apprentice and padded over to the Crone and the Blue Lady.

“Now what do I do with you?” she mused aloud. “You’re far too powerful to risk imprisoning, and as long as you have your runes and your priests you’re a threat to stability here.”

The Blue Lady wheezed, spitting a mist of blood onto the tiled floor. “We are the stability here. The city will never accept you.”

“Half of them already have.” the Leveler countered, to which the Blue Lady had no answer but silence. “I will make you an offer. I will let you live, and even let you carry on tending to the spiritual needs of your people, on one condition. You give me, and your subjects, your true names.”

The Blue Lady opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. The Crone too said nothing, but her dark eyes spoke blood.

The Leveler reached out, and ribbons of shadow slithered along the walls, the Crone’s own spell now closing inky fingers around her skinny neck.

“Well?” she pressed.

The Crone sighed in defeat. “Ifa.” she mumbled. Her lined cheeks drew back into a sneer. “Daughter of fuck you.”

The Leveler exhaled a huff. “Alright then.”

She twisted her hand, and there was an audible snap. The glistening black tendrils evaporated, and the Crone’s body slumped lifeless to the floor.

She turned to the Blue Lady. “What about you?”

+ + + + + +

The Scorpion raised his head from his gnarled hands. “And where the fuck have you been, while the faithful bled and died?”

“Under the sea,” the Immortal answered. “Talking to the most annoying and boring bunch of Mer since…” He rolled his eyes towards the Ambassador. “Well, since that one. But we did bring something back.”

“It had better be good.”

“Oh I’d say so.” the Immortal grinned. “The one magical thing that someone voluntarily threw into the sea before my old friends in the Seekers did it for him.”

“You were a Seeker?” Illusion broke in, perhaps remembering their dead comrade Raven and how flippantly the Immortal had treated his death.

“Once.” the Immortal admitted, flicking his eyebrows. “I found the dogmatic aspects tiresome.”

The Ambassador shook her head, making a tutting sound. “Landwalkers, make religion out of anything. Mer tell you runes are dangerous, you make prophecy and base secret cults around it.”

“Shut up, fish!” the Scorpion snarled. He sat up, suddenly animated. “Immortal...are you saying they gave you the Book?”

The Immortal smiled a half-moon smile. "Yes. Go on Wanderer, show him."

The Scorpion weakly raised his hand, and immediately drew it back, as if stung by the magical power he could sense emanating from the innocuous little book that the Wanderer was holding up.

“The legends say you just have to picture your foe…” the Scorpion whispered. “And the book will open at the right...what is this?”

He was staring at the long lists of spiralling ink on the open pages, evidently no more conversant than Red and the others had been.

“Ancient Ash.” the Immortal grinned, clearly enjoying being the one to explain things to the cast-down Enlightened. “I happen to know someone who speaks it, but he’s in the City of the Risen God.”

“A Riseman?” the Scorpion snapped. He dissolved into hacking coughs, and had to steady himself against the ground before he could continue. “They’re - kaf! - blasphemers and iconoclasts, all of them! They spit on all gods but their own!”

“He’s also the only person I know who can read Ancient Ash.” The Immortal raised an eyebrow. “I doubt many of you Lightmen can. Unless you want to go and ask the Leveler nicely if you can run the text by one the more scholarly slaves in her army?”

The Scorpion gritted his teeth, which were pink with leaked blood. “You overstep, heretic.”

The Immortal twisted his cheek in a lopsided smile. “Many times every day, but not in this.”

The Scorpion seethed quietly for several seconds. “Oh, shattered gods forgive me...if you really must get to that city of heretics, then go to the man who brought you wine. Tell him it is the will of the Enlightened that he give you horses and food to carry you to the Risemen city.”

“My home,” Solar said, visibly trembling, “Is that way.”

“Then ride quickly.” the Scorpion urged, and coughed again. “And one more thing. Urgh...in case the Leveler does catch up with you...take this.”

He reached inside a pouch at his belt, and drew out a runestone, crazed with pale swirls that glimmered in the sunlight.

“May the thoughts of the gods pass to you through their shards.” the Scorpion intoned. “Take it, damn you. Before I remember that the gods would weep at sharing their secrets with ruffians like you.”

A spark jumped through each of them as they touched the stone, tracing fire up their arms in patterns that they, suddenly, simply understood. How to walk as the Enlightened said the gods had walked. How to put one foot forward in this place and have it meet the earth again in another, several miles away. But they also knew what it would cost them: at best they would be weakened and disoriented, at worst they would be helpless for several hours afterward - drained and wracked with pain, as the Scorpion was now.

Illusion meant to pass the tiny stone on to the Ambassador, but the Mer shrank back.

“Not her.” the Scorpion growled, and looked up at the Ambassador with a blood-laced sneer. “You Mer hate runes, don’t you? Not that I would let you touch one of mine anyway.”

“Forgive?” the Mer asked in imperfect Light, cocking her head as if expecting an explanation.

The Scorpion just gritted his teeth. “When you accept the godly origin of the runestones, then I will forgive you, abomination.”

“We’re wasting time.” Wraith said flatly. “Let us gather what we need and go.”

Ten minutes later they were on the road, riding northwest towards the River and its joining Tributary that flowed all the way back to the City of the Risen God. Once they crossed the River, it would be six days ride.

[Katrina]

Red tuned her ears to the tree’s they were slowly passing, remembering many times in her past travels when bandits would leap out of the foliage like rabbits escaping a cat. They were always sure, based on their numbers. Quickly, they would cut off the path, and think they had their prey trapped. They never expected to corner someone who could take them all down.

She looked ahead, feeling an undesirable pang of curiosity for the one called Solar. She also felt a lasting annoyance with the Wanderer. “That woman thinks she knows me.” Red figured silently. She looked from one to the other, back and forth, then made her decision.

“Solar.” She called ahead to his horse.

[Azazeal849]

The dirt road they were following curved gently north, clinging to the bend of the river. The dry ground was deeply furrowed by wagon tracks where the Leveler’s army had passed only days previously. Camphor and damar trees grew close to the road and provided some welcome shade, though they had already passed one area where a wide swathe had been cut back to make space for a march camp.

“Look at that.” Solar murmured as they came upon the remains of a wooden bridge, dismantled and swept aside to make way for the Leveler’s war galleys. On the far bank was an abandoned farmstead; half of its rice paddies had been stripped by the advancing army, and the unripe stalks of the rest stood forlorn and untended.

“Where are we going to cross?” Illusion wondered aloud. They were riding in a loose column, with herself up front and Wanderer at the rear, as if the other woman didn’t trust Red enough to show her back to her. The two men rode in the centre, and Red to the rear of them with the Ambassador riding sidesaddle behind her, clinging tightly to her cloak. The aquatic Mer was very clearly hating the unfamiliar riding experience, though the others weren’t much better. As a former courier, Solar had the advantage of knowing his way around a horse, but the rest of them rode awkwardly. The animals themselves were slow, steady dray horses rather than swift messengers, which helped, but the insides of Illusion’s thighs were already beginning to sting from the ride.

“I remember there being a ferry a bit further upriver.” said the Wraith, impassive behind his iron mask. “But if the Ashmen destroyed that too then we’ll need another ice bridge.”

“Speak for yourself.” Solar muttered, digging the heel of his hand into his damaged eye. “My head still hurts from keeping up that bubble rune. Or maybe it was just those gods-damn Mer.”

“Do you wish to avenge your home or not?” Wraith asked, bluntly.

For a moment, Solar looked like he was about to strike him.

“Solar.” Red suddenly called ahead, heading off the argument. Solar glared at Wraith for a moment, then slowed his horse to fall behind the others. The Immortal, who had allowed himself to be settled awkwardly in the saddle blankets in front of Wanderer, cocked an eyebrow at her in response to the exchange.

“What?” Solar asked Red, a little sharply, as her horse drew level and he eased his own back into a trot.

[Katrina]

Red’s scarf was hanging loosely over her shoulders, not wrapped even once around her neck. Her lips were bare, with her face only covered down to the bridge of her nose by her hood. It was the most of her face the group had seen. Her cloak was splayed wide open, showing the identically colored dress that hugged her plump bosom, long arms, her thin waist and hips, then released her thighs and legs for movement. The wind and warmth of the day graced patches of damp cloth strewn around her cloak and dress. Her brown sturdy boots had dried, and her gloves she had stashed in some unseen pockets on her dress. Bare hands, slender fingers, and clean nails gripped the reins to her horse. The hilt of the thin sword on her left hip appeared ready to be drawn at the slightest sign of trouble. Now that her cloak was open wide enough, several brown leather bags, all small enough to fit in ones palm, hung visibly from the inside of her cloak. Corresponding loops had been sewn onto her cloak and the bags, so they hung sturdily from the thick cloth. What couldn’t be seen was the short blade hidden in a tight sheath under her dress strapped just above the high reach of her right boot. And the contents of those various bags were impossible to identify without opening them. Though she was less covered, the Red woman was still a mystery.

Red looked into Solars eyes from behind her hood. She heard the snap in his tone, but decided without much thought not to withdraw. “I can get us across the river. Right now. It’ll save time, so you can get back to your family. And avoid using an ‘ice bridge.’” She trailed off, trying not to wonder what the hell they were referring to.

“But I’ll only do it if you answer a few questions first. Every single one, honestly. Will you make this deal?”

Family. What a funny prospect. Since she had seen the look of terror on Solars face at the mention of his home in danger, she was unable to stop herself from thinking back to her own “family.” She had been wondering since they climbed onto their horses, what family meant to this man. And the memories of her own experiences, the resulting choices, bluntly shoved their way into her thoughts at the mention of the word.

***

Her mother's hand outstretched, bloodied, trembling, shielding herself. The silent night, injected with the plopping of droplets from a red glistening dagger.
“Please...don’t…”
Her mother’s breathless plea’s were a reflection to her daughters.
Alana looked at this mother of hers, crumpled, defeated, on the floor, against a wall.
Absorbing the image before her, all she saw was the submission of a creature. A creature that previously thought itself dominant. How many times had Alana raised her hand in this same manner, shielded her face, crumpled and begged and pleaded while the blows kept coming.

The belt, the iron, the fist, the branch, the whip.

How many times were her objections and questions whipped from her tongue? How many times did she say the words planted in her gums and grown in her cheeks. The flowers that bloomed in her voice after years of picking and shaping; and poisoning the unwanted pests? Disposing of anything unwanted was all part of the process, until her parents finally created the beauty they wanted in their daughters words. She did and said what they wanted, to avoid any more punishment. But deep inside, weeds were festering, pushing poison into her mind. With every cringe and cry and whipping and beating, the rot spread. Until it had nowhere to go. Until the stranger showed up, and gave her an option she thought had been plucked from her foliage long ago.

How peculiar, the urge to hold a hand up, as if the flesh could stop the blade. So pointless.

The man who was her father had just breathed his last breath, and was lying lifeless on the wood floor next to her mother. Her mother...pleading, shaking, dying. Alana saw her mother’s life draining into a dark puddle on the floor. She heard it trickling through the floorboards onto the dirt beneath the cottage, and watched, and waited, for the last of her mother’s life to separate itself from flesh.

When her mother’s hand finally dropped and her body released its final breath, Alana looked at the dagger in her own hand. She realized immediately that the stranger was right. The rot inside her had settled. It wasn’t a fuming pile of poison anymore, but a part of her blood and the core of her life. With every plunge of the dagger, the rot became increasingly settled. And the parts of her that couldn’t settle were released with the release of life from those who created the unsettlement in the first place.

***

Red blinked herself back into Solars presence. Had he spoken? She hadn’t meant to think about that memory in this very moment. She hadn’t meant to lose herself like that. She hadn’t meant to lose touch with her current reality, but couldn’t seem to force the habit of disconnecting when she was around people. She stared at Solar.

[Azazeal849]

“I said,” Solar repeated, looking at her strangely from beneath his mop of red hair. “What about a compromise?”

He glanced at the Ambassador, who was still clinging to Red’s waist to avoid slipping from the horse’s back.

“Ambie says you’re not planning to fuck us over. Great. But we still know as little about you as you do about us. So how about this.”

The young mage raised a hand to brush a low-hanging branch out of his way as his horse trotted past.

“We’ll take your offer. And we’ll answer your questions - any questions you like. But for every one you ask us, we get to ask you one in turn. Deal?”

He fixed Red with a neutral stare. At the back of the column, the Immortal looked up from Wanderer’s saddle blankets and raised his other eyebrow.

“Maybe he’s not a complete idiot after all?” he murmured, too low for any but Wanderer to hear.

“You go first.” Solar prompted Red, as the two unlikely allies rode on ahead of Wanderer.

[Katrina]

Red nodded slowly, carrying her gaze to the wide river. “Agreed.” She matched Solar’s speed, her first question intended for him, but spoke loud enough for the whole group to hear. “How you answer these first few questions will determine whether or not I use my ability to get us across this river. IF I do decide to help, I must ask that you keep my ability between us. So...” she turned her gaze to Solar, and focused intently on his face from under her hood. Her lips gave each word concisely, and without hesitation. “Do you love your family?”

[Azazeal849]

“If I do decide to help, I must ask that you keep my ability between us.”

Solar looked at her as if she was the world’s hardest puzzle.

“So…” She turned her gaze to him, and focused intently on his face from under her hood. Her lips gave each word concisely, and without hesitation. “Do you love your family?”

Solar’s expression didn’t change. The puzzle on her face was apparently a real bitch.

“Of course I do.” the young man replied hotly. “What kind of a stupid question is that?”

He twisted his mouth, sighing.

“I suppose you want a more detailed answer than that, huh?” He exhaled a second slow breath, and let his horse pick its own way along the track as he considered his response. “My parents were workers, on a farm a bit like that one.”

He pointed across the river to the abandoned homestead.

“Me and my little brother used to help them out as soon as we were old enough. One day I was digging out an old well and I found these.” He patted the small rune-pouch hanging from his belt. “I guess some mage must have buried them there for safekeeping - more fool them. Well, now that I could defend myself without an escort, I thought I could make better money running messages between the big cities - help support the family, y’know?”

The young mage looked uncharacteristically grim.

“Yes I was away for weeks and months at a time but I never forgot about them! And as soon as I heard the Leveler was moving south with an army, I figured they’d run for the safety of the city walls. I headed back as fast as I could, so I could fight. I didn’t get a chance to see them before the bastards attacked.”

Solar shook his head.

“I thought getting this Book would be the best way to help them...but now that pompous ass Scorpion says the city fell while we were fucking around out here with the Mer - no offence, Ambie…” He cast a less than apologetic glance at the Mer sitting behind Red. “It’s difficult. It’s really fucking difficult to ride the other way in the hope that this friend of the Immortal can give us what we need to take down the Leveler. I don’t know if my parents and my little brother are alive or dead, I can’t help thinking what if I’d stayed in the city to help there instead…”

He sniffed, still scowling. His posture was rigid, fists clenched.

“Yes, Red, I love my family. And if they got hurt when the city fell, I’m not just going to take the Leveler’s name, I’m going to rip out her fucking eyes.”

Slowly, Solar unclenched his fists and pushed his red hair out of his eyes.

“Your turn. Where do you come from?”

[Katrina]

She let her horse lead, while watching Solar intently. She listened to every word and eyed every motion, looking for the tiniest chance at probable suspicion. She couldn’t find a single one. She felt only truth emanating from his words. When he finished, she held his gaze, searching for one last chance for him to falter, to blink or twitch or purse his lips, but again found nothing but truth.
She let her silence hang there between them, then filled it with a slow breath in, and a slow breath out.

“He’s absolutely normal.” She thought. The idea perplexed her, that this man had a normal happy family. That ANYone had a normal family. She couldn’t imagine what that was like. No matter how hard she had ever tried.

Red reached behind her and pulled Ambie’s entire arm across her own stomach. “Like this Ambie, hold onto me tightly, I’ll keep you balanced.” She advised, thinking about Solar’s question. “Just go with the sway of the horses trot, and hold onto me. And don’t be afraid him, horses are wise. As long as you don’t walk behind one, they won’t hurt you.”

She kept their hands touching, deliberately allowing the Mer to see Red’s truth as she spoke it to Solar. “I was born in The Light City. The exact same city the Leveler just destroyed. I was raised there, my parents died there, as did the child I once was. That place is where I met the man who guided me onto the path I’m on today.” She paused, considering how much information Solar had offered her. She reminded herself, ‘an even exchange of information.’

“I was going back to the city after a job, when I was offered another one on the way. I suppose if it weren’t for that, I would’ve reached the city in time and been inside the walls when the Leveler attacked. I’m not sure if I’m grateful for that or not. I was-“ she stopped, looked at Solar, then at the river. “I was looking for someone, and I’m...I guess one would call it hoping. I’m hoping...he’s...alive.” She swallowed, nauseated at the honesty she was offering these people. “I’m sure he is.” She added quickly. “He won’t be killed so easily.”
She swallowed again, aiming to collect herself. “Why are you called Solar? Is it just because of your hair or is there some sentimental story to it?”
She watched the river, pulling her horse to a steady halt. She slipped Ambie’s hand off of her stomach, then slid off the saddle. She faced the river, breathing herself to calmness.