B.T.V. -- Session 17 Epilogue: Dragons Rise
The Battle of the Aethera
The Master, Benedict, Sybermane, Axewing, Shadowjack, Dantalion, Bast, Anubis, Roland, Frobwusten, Tai-pan and the Ambassador of Cats stood on the bridge over a lava-filled chasm in what had been Anhur’s Sanctum. That God’s body lay nearby, killed by Sybermane at the order of his God, Khons.
All except Anubis and Bast had been in that chamber in the past, as well, when the assassination actually occurred. Now, they had returned to the present, through The Master’s manipulations of Time.
Anubis turns to look at Sybermane. “You are the wielder of the Knife. You are the one who brought me here.”
“That’s right.”
Anubis looks at the mantle of Anhur, and then back at Sybermane, piecing events together from before his arrival. The God then gazes at the others in the chamber, and says, “I see there are servants of the Phoenix here.” Then, to The Master, “You. You are a servant of Lored Mann.” The Master looks back curiously. “What is your part in this? I sense you have control of the situation.
“I am The Master. I have a particular position.”
“Position. All things have positions, both the mighty and the mere.”
“Yes. I am the Solitaire of Obsidian.”
Benedict looks at Axewing and Sybermane, but mostly at the former.
“Ah,” Dantalion remarks. “This is an issue for us.”
“This is a large issue,” Axewing agrees.
“I do not understand rightly how the Solitaire and the Principalities, how they operate. I do not believe we owe fealty to this one, but he has a position of power, access to things we do not. Now it makes sense why he is so powerful.”
“We are of common cause, as I understood it, but we are not of common cause with The Master.”
“Perhaps he is not a Doctor. Absolom is the Solitaire of Humanity. This Doctor is the Solitaire of the Outremer, I suppose. His relationship is different. We come from Beyond. He belongs in some fashion we do not.”
“Like the races, all might not be of good nature,” Axewing advises.
“Yes,” Dantalion answers. “The races are another component.”
“We are opposed to this Solitaire,” Axewing repeats about the Master, but Dantalion is less certain.
“Who knows what Asmodeus will think of this one?”
Axewing glances at Benedict, who seems to be inspecting the newly-arrived Gods, Bast and Anubis, uncertain how to react.
“What are we to think of this?” Axewing asks Benedict. “The Master as a Solitaire. What will this mean for the war?”
“The war?” Benedict asks. “What war?”
“The war between the Noble Thoughts, the War between Good and Evil.” Then, to Dantalion, Axewing suggests, “Come. Let us talk to the new Veightal.”
“Yes. Let us look on the bright side. I do not know them. I fought for them in the First Realm.”
“They are Gods. They will know you,” Axewing assures her. “I know even in my early days, there were a great deal of false gods.”
“Yes. Our fight was a failure. My father and ancestors fought for the True Gods at a time when the belief in false gods was more common.”
Axewing knees before Anubis and Bast.
“Rise, my benefactors,” Bast tells them in a gentle voice. “You are our friends and our protectors.”
They rise as commanded, holding holds.
“You are the Children of the Phoenix, even if the Phoenix is no more,” Bast continues.
Anubis interrupts. “These things remain to be revealed, Bast. You and I may only be the beginnings of what will come. But first we must understand what has happened.”
The Master interjects, “When you have finished greeting each other, I will move you back to where you should resume your lives.”
“You mean the Silhouette,” Benedict says.
“Exactly. It is near enough time to resume your life.”
“I had thought the tower, if not a prison, was an observation point for you.”
“It is that. I am held in a Sanctum, if you will.”
“Sybermane. Would you mind stepping over here.” Benedict makes it sound like a request, but is more an order.
“Hmm,” Sybermane replies, contemplating the risks involved.
“Come, man, if I wished to kill you, I would not ask you to step in front of me.”
“I’m not a man,” Sybermane protests.
Benedict continues as if he had not been interrupted, suggesting they are outside the normal time stream, and trying to kill each other would probably be pointless. Sybermane is dubious, especially with Axewing and Dantalion not far away, but strolls over.
“Yes,” The Master says. “Confer amongst yourselves. I will give you time to set things right.”
“Is your name Jared Ghostley?” Tai-pan asks.
“It is. You claim to know something of The Doctors? “
“No, but I have been involved unwillingly in your manipulations before.”
“Most people would call me a star traveler of some kind. We have a gift. A gift of regeneration. This means we return to life in a new body.”
“That’s handy,” Tai-pan comments.
“It can be.”
“Let me throw something out there. Are you a trading person?”
“Trading? It depends on the currency.”
“Exactly. My interest is in the Profane, in particular my family, The Sax. Perhaps another who might have interest in you, not of the Sax, but was quite interested in Time and I understand had captured your brain and soul.”
“I assume you’re speaking of Digitalis. He is of little interest to me.”
“It can’t be!” Tai-pan declares. “Let us just say I have certain knowledge off that that I might be willing to trade.”
“He is no more.”
“I’m not saying that. I did have plans with him. However, I’d be willing to sacrifice such for the return of my family.”
The Master smiles, as if he has Tai-pan exactly where he wants him. “I’m afraid events precede you. Things have already happened involving your family that cannot be undone. Time is an arrow.”
“So you’re saying you could create such a bargain, but it would be worthless.”
“A lesser person might take you up on your offer, but I am The Master.”
“Are any of my family to survive?” The Master stares at him. “I’m willing to pay.”
“But we have not established a currency yet. I am not interested in Digitalis, what he has done to me is in the past. I have already, shall we say, created a suitable future.”
“So the book. War of the Worlds. Is it complete?”
“No. That is why I let you take it. The chapters in it refer to Warren and the World of War and so on, but it is Worlds, of course, in plural.”
“So you’re not going to give at all on my family.”
“I have already taken steps, some of which I am merely following, not leading. If we call it a dance, these steps are prescribed when one enters a particular form of dance.” He strokes his goatee. “I’m afraid you and I are destined to run afoul of each other in times to come. Perhaps your skills would be sufficient then to deal with me as you would like to now.”
Frobwusten whispers, “I believe he is intimating your skills are not yet sufficient to deal with him. I would like a word with you when you are finished.” The fiend moves away.
“Is there anything more, my good man?” The Master asks expansively.
“I suppose I can leave anything else to a later time.”
“I’m sure it won’t be long until you have cause to speak to me again. I sense I will have no direct hand in what is to occur, but those…well, it won’t be long, anyway.”
“Perhaps another…no, maybe not.”
“No other ploys? Perhaps that one. He is supposed to be a tactical expert.” He indicates Benedict. “Maybe he could help you with whatever it is you wanted to say.”
“No.”
“As you think best, then,” The Master says patronizingly. Then, in a more general announcement, “As you say, I will leave you all for your quick and private discussions, but note I stress the quick.” He strolls off, humming to himself.
Sybermane, meanwhile, approaches Jack. “It seems we were all there when this first happened. Do you have any memory of it?”
“Who, me?” Shadowjack responds. “Just the recent memories. The returned and restored memories.”
“Just this incident, or more?”
“It would take something of a different kind of master to get you here, if you’re not a worshipper.”
“Did I recruit you to do so?”
“I suppose yes would be the answer.”
“So perhaps you brought me here?”
“Let’s take the ‘perhaps’ out. You really don’t remember? They say some memories are lost due to trauma. Perhaps that’s what’s happened to you. It’s a bit dangerous to perhaps open some of these doors that lead to lost memories. I have many such locked-away memories of my own.”
“When I got back to my keep the first time, it took me six months to recover. I thought that was from being close to Anhur when he died, but it doesn’t seem so. What else might have happened?”
“You can be certain enough it’s not Anhur’s doing. Otherwise you would be suffering from the same thing at the moment. It’s possible that I was wrong.” He looks at the others in the chamber. “I believe there is some ill will towards you.”
“What was Maldon doing here?” Sybermane wonders aloud.
“I think his part was induced more by The Master. He is a Final Man. Therefore probably…we cannot know all the ins and out of these things. Perhaps it lies as much in the future as in the past. His associations are quite wide-ranging.”
“I wonder what the Jenoine were called there?”
“We did see such in town, as were the Bit. Question is, those things you have forgotten, are they important to the Bit, perhaps?”
“Actually, they seem to like me.”
“Perhaps then they bear you no ill will. Perhaps you have some arrangement with them. Perhaps they hold you in some regard. I would not mention this to the others.”
“And that’s why I picked you to talk to.”
“They are servants of the Mule. The Monstrous are strange, but they are not altogether unlikeable in all circumstances. The Bit are our enemies. But the nature of individual monsters is unique to themselves. The Bit are probably as they are for their lack of individuality.” Jack pauses and considers the others. “We need to try to build a bridge for you. I wonder if you have anything to offer. Usually, I buy my way out of such situations. Running might not be your choice. It is odd you are an Equinn, that you seem most bloodthirsty, far more than I am.”
“I think part of that was what I became with the Khrescent.”
“Still, not many creatures where you are from seem to enjoy it the way you do.”
“I just go along, and then some people get in my way.”
“That rather flies in face of what you were in Axildusk. There you tried to help people. Now, the emphasis is on killing people. Come, let us try to build a bridge, or see how impossible the engineering is.”
Axewing motions to Roland to join him, Dantalion, Bast and Anubis. The Battering Lion has been keeping a discrete distance. Then Benedict comes over as well.
Anubis tells them all, “Bast and I are merely newborn in the ways of wisdom.”
“Many may not be found,” Benedict warns about locating other surviving members of the Veightal. “Some, their fates are written.”
”We must still make some effort.”
“But there are forces beyond the Gods. The Noble Thoughts, who influence matters directly.”
“Can it be so?” Bast asks in disbelief.
“I have much to tell you,” Anubis confides to her.
“I need to be made aware, if I am to be of any use.”
Anubis addresses Roland. “We must make certain it is safe for you to serve us. Will you subjugate yourself to us?”
“What do you mean to do?” Bast asks.
”I will measure his soul.” Anubis takes out a set of scales. A heart seems to come out of Roland, without causing him any discomfort, and Anubis places that on one plate of the scales, and a feather, probably from a God, on the other. The heart descends while the feather rises.
Bast looks sharply at Roland. “He is evil! How can it be?”
“Jenoine,” Axewing explains.
Dantalion bows her head. “They are most evil and set against us.”
“Then, Great Anubis, what do we do with this one? He is an unfortunate,” Bast observes.
“Use your powers, if you would.”
“To reclaim him.”
“Yes, it might be unnecessary, but in doing so at least we will find if your powers are still with you.”
Bast attempts the feat, but Roland’s collapse signals a failure. She goes to a knee, and solicitously puts a hand on his forehead. “He is gone.”
“The Jenoine must have still inhabited him,” Anubis declares.
Jack and Sybermane arrive at this moment, even as Axewing, examining the khopesh that has fallen from Roland’s hand, sees a violet light he hadn’t noticed before emanating from its handle. Dantalion, next to Bast, is looking at the body.
“This mask,” Dantalion inquires. “Is it a part of him?”
“It is a gift of Lord Anhur,” Bast answers.
“It seems to be affixed to him.”
“His weapon. The hilt glows,” Axewing announces.
“This doesn’t look good,” Jack observes.
Benedict turns his attention to the Equinn.
“Sybermane, what will your purpose be, now that this event has been revealed to us all? I would imagine this preoccupied your thoughts.”
“ I know so little of Axildusk, at least this Axildusk, that it is difficult to say. I must have some time to acclimate.”
“Yes, but have you no preconceptions? There is nothing your feel yourself impelled to do?”
“Usually, without a mission assigned, I just try to help people.”
Jack confirms that. “Yes. He has often done these sort of conscientious things before. That is, in my experience with him, in a previous time. He often did jobs pro bono.”
“You might recall, in the tavern in Atrix, the Ghosts referred to me as a local hero,” Sybermane remembered, though somewhat sarcastically.
“So your mind is turned to this charity work?” Benedict presses.
“It’s useful sometimes. I can make enough money to survive on.”
“So you have no purpose?”
“Isn’t helping people good enough?”
“You collect things. You speak to people.”
“Yes. I was an investigator, though in Atrix I called it being an inquirer, so I didn’t give the impression of working for the local authorities.
“You didn’t mention this. I employed you in this,” Benedict suddenly seems to recall from his own past experience in Atrix. “You may need to be informed that the Axildusk you remember, that we have returned to in our memory, is a hundred thousand years ago. You could be quite different now than you are then.”
“It wasn’t that long for me. I returned to Khons’ service, and established myself in the Sparringtons on Miranse, where I had a keep.”
“No longer available, though. It seems this one gives you free rein. I, Benedict, as a prince of Amber cannot give you this freedom without being certain of your cause. If you do whatever you end up doing, and it runs against wind of Amber, I will be blamed for your presence. I don’t wish this to be an issue.”
“Now I’ve had a moment, it has occurred to me the Quinnials are found on this world. I expect I’ll try to find them, and extend a helping hand to them.”
“You will have a problem, living scattered as they do. How would you help?”
“I’d have to know their situation.”
“They live a tribal existence. They have skills enough, I believe.”
“I remember now. They’re very much looked down on, at least in Adhrilanka.”
“All such are disparaged.”
“But many Draegerans made a point there of telling me how much they don’t like Quinnials.”
“The Quinnials are known to be a difficult people. They are known as traders who often do better than they should in their business dealings. It has been expressed to me, when one has made a bargain with a Quinnial, one should count one’s fingers after shaking hands.”
“It’s hardly the first time a minority has been looked down on, and oppressed.”
“No more a minority than other tribes. They are failed Houses, if you will. You have no personal ambitions, you say. They are available for you to mold into some such thing, whatever that might be. Perhaps you could bring them upward.”
“I suppose I should have asked what we struggle against as Obsidian?”
“I don’t know the answers to the questions you’re posing.”
“Then perhaps I should speak to them.”
Jack points out that while he and Sybermane are of Shadow, those of the Obsidian of Time might have a different perspective. “We need to know what we need to know.”
“Yes,” Benedict agrees. “As I say. My position with my family requires me to know you individually, as a group of six or two groups of three, as to what you’ll be about. If you fly against us, I’ll need to know it. Better for all concerned if you state these things openly. If you try to fool us, it will go much more harshly for you later. See you keep your purloining far from Amber, and I’m sure we’ll look the other way. And should you steal something important to us, I assume you’d be offering it to us first.”
“I wouldn’t dream of not doing so.”
“I’m sure I can wait and see, Jack. You, Sybermane, are much more an unknown quantity. Can I take it from what you have suggested so far, will you be looking into these peoples?”
“I usually try to help the underdogs.”
“Axewing is trying to raise up the Tribes as well. If you are willing to share, you might be able to work together.”
“If he will listen,” Jack adds. “He seems as usual much uprighteous. When it comes to matters of Gods, he is very old-fashioned.”
“Whereas you are not?” Benedict asks.
“I admire what they produce,” Jack answers, failing to entirely keep the greed out of his voice.
“I think you said earlier, ‘many valuable things’,” Sybermane reminds him.
“I suppose that is how you survive these things, Jack,” Benedict states.
“It isn’t much of a stretch to say I learned my skills at stealing by learning my skills of escape.”
“I must have words alone with Master,” Benedicts says. “I will come back to see how you are getting on.”
Axewing still stares at the khopesh. “I know Anhur was much in the manufacture of such things.”
“Certainly as the God of War these thing were more in his domain than others,” Anubis concurs.
“Only one way I can consider to be certain.” Axewing reached out to take the pommel, thinking of Anhur as he does so. But nothing lion-oriented enters his thoughts.
Axewing sees a golden thread coming toward him from the khopesh, as if to lead him somewhere. He tries to follow, but in his mind, not physically. The thread glows incredibly bright in the absence of anything more luminescent, an oddity since Gods were nearby. Then the thread becomes fragmented, into dotted lines, and then two of them resolve into what appears to be a pole weapon.
Two bright blades are borne on either end, glowing with a golden light. Definitely a weapon, he decides. Then he gets an impression of others being near him,
and sees a Shelled in red armour, two long swords glowing as if with molten light, and five hanging lights arrayed behind him, in an arch over his head.
Then he sees the polearm again, now held by a female figure, addressed later as “Orokin.”
Axewing reaches out with his mind and touches her hand, to try to open a communication with her even as he comes to understand he is in the Astra. She looks around, but is obviously unaware of him, so he sends Astra like a pulse of desert heat to enwrap her, thinking that will comfort here.
After a short moment, a diaphanous cape on her back falls apart like shreds of tissue on the wind, and moves away from her. Axewing realizes the cape has become wings that push his shroud away from her, and he sees now she is a Gelicus. He’s moved no closer, but she now looks more animated and concerned.
“There is an intruder,” she announces, and Axewing hears movement around him, then sees nine other Shelled are in the room as well. The Orokin spots a khopesh has appeared on the floor near her, and picks it up.
“This was given to…something is amiss,” she says. She summons someone, for shortly after a male Gelicus appears, seemingly having twin sets of wings on his back. His name will be revealed as Karce.
“I came as soon as I…what is this doing here?” he asks about the khopesh.
“That’s the question,” the Orokin answers.
“It is from the time of the destruction of the lion god.”
“Why have you sent it to me? A threat?”
“Not a conscious one,” he replies. “This was held in my vaults for safekeeping. The other escapes us still. I have been conducting efforts to reclaim the second blade, simply for the sake of completeness.”
“Completeness? What are you hiding from me? You understand these things are vital to our future. How could this have been brought here?”
“Give me a moment, and I’ll ask questions of security there.”
He vanishes. The Shelled continue to search for an intruder, but the Orokin commands them, “Be still.”
Then Karce returns. “The blade was not stolen. There are no entries or exits from the vault.”
“This thing cannot walk!” The Orokin declares. “Why would it come here then?”
“I can only suppose it had something to do with the other blade. It was never recovered, following the death of the lion god.”
“But the Shelled were sent and recovered this blade?”
“Yes, and several key fragments.”
“How many are still available?”
“Only two are left.”
“Are they most well-protected, better than this blade?” she asks scathingly.
“This is my role,” Karce, the male, answers.
“Yes. As Keeper of the Shards. Do me a favour while you are here. Can you see if there is something here I cannot see?”
“Surely nothing can escape your attention.”
“I am not convinced. Something touched me.”
Karce looks amused.
“Your station doesn’t allow you to be amused. Bring about your Faere.”
A collar of Faere appears around Karce’s neck. He dutifully inspects the room. “There are minor permutations here, but nothing untoward.”
“It is my experience that spies who are best have no opinions of their own,” Orokin chastens.
“It is something I should learn,” Karce asks.
“Only that the best of these cannot be found, because they have no sense of self. Another matter. How go the developmental programs?”
“Very well.”
“And our experimental programs?”
“As well as can be expected. We know your displeasure.”
“All of the Orokin feel this way. How far along are you to discovering the impediments and removing them? The Cadavivva must be released.”
“These impediments are not always barricades. They are difficult to overcome. Of course, there is the suggestion….”
“I have heard of the suggestion. If it comes to that, it will be more destructive than we had wished.”
“Some losses must occur, I imagine.”
“This is not the time for such discussions. Something about all this troubles me. Discover more and you will be rewarded. I will move on from here. I have no further use for it.”
“May I inquire as to its cost?” Karce asks.
“Unless you have been saving your wages, you cannot afford it.”
“I have been saving my wages”
“You may inquire of my lucator.” The blades of her polearm split and she vanishes but the Shelled remain as Karce looks around.
“If I am to be the new owner, I will need guardsmen. How many splinters does she offer you every day?”
“We each receive one a week. We are amongst the best of the Shelled.”
“I suppose I should take your word for that. The blade, it just appeared, did it?”
“It wasn’t there, and then it was,” a Shelled confirms. “She commanded you to investigate the matter. You have no choice.”
“But it’s good to have a reason for doing so,” Karce informs him.
He leaves the room, as do the Shelled, leaving just Axewing. He follows the stream back and finds himself back on the bridge.
“What have you discovered?” Anubis inquires.
“I followed a stream, a connect between this blade and its partner. It took me through the Astra to a place, I do not know where it was. There was a being who initially I thought, to my regret, could be a being of good nature, but it appears it is not. It was a Gelicus. They are a winged creature. She was some person in command, and she was quite disturbed that this blade connected in the past to the slaying of Anhur would be there. She summoned another of her kind. I should tell you, around her were guards. They were the Shelled. There were 10 of them. In seeing that, I realized...I attempted to draw her to me, using the Astra, but then I realized she was not a creature of goodly nature. Then I saw her summon a second one, a Gelicus like her. A creature of blue wings and tint, and she had staff with blades of light on either side. It was not a light of Good. The creature she summoned was a Gelicus of two wings, it had the appearance of four wings. He was a servant of some kind, tasked with being the Keeper of the shards. She named him Karce. She questioned him upon the blade, and he said it was in his vault. He seemed perturbed that it would be there. During discussion, the word Orokin was mentioned, which seemed to apply to her, but also seemed to apply to a kind, perhaps of Gelicus, but ones of prominence.
“She asked Karce to examine the room, his neck lit by Faere, and he did not see me. They spoke of impediments to something they wished done. Then she said specifically ‘the Cadavivva must be released,’ and I understood the impediments were not structures, but living beings. They talked of dealing with the impediments as a great destructive act. She said it was time to leave, the blades split, and she disappeared.”
Axewing then drops the khopesh he had picked up earlier.
“This all very confusing to me,” Bast confesses. “Anubis? You would understand these things.”
“Without the Eye, things are difficult. That is the purpose of the Eye.” To Axewing, Anubis continued, “You used this travel, this element…”
“Yes, what we call the Obsidian are connected to it.”
“Who are ‘we’? I have faith in you, but who are these others.”
“There’s Dantalion. There is a group referred to as Outremer. It is a grouping, as there are other groupings. We in the Obsidian are to the Outremer as the Amberites are to Humanity.”
“Axewing has done an admirable job,” Benedict comments. “The Obsidian are like ourselves, the Princes of Amber. Their power over Astra provides them a capability beyond others of the Outremer.”
“Can it be so simple?” Bast asks incredulously.
“Lady Goddess, for you to be what you are is no doubt an easy thing to you, but to us, you are an amazing and wonderful being. What is simple for one is not so simple for another.”
Anubis says, “This is only serving to point out Bast and I are not sufficient. We must find more strength in those we have known.”
“You will weaken yourself,” Bast cautions.
“I am aware of that.”
“I only mean to point out, I will follow if you lead.”
“I am not certain that is necessary. Let us see who is available. Come Prince of Amber, what else can you tell us? If I had the Eye, I could bring it to us. This one that has been taken us.”
“And it must have something to do with this one,” Bast adds, indicating Anhur.
Benedict tells them, “The Gelicus are a group of mystery, and Axewing has pierced this with his Obsidian gift of Astra. This is something of a revelation, something I was not privy to, that the Orokin and Gelicus might be one. It is a term mentioned in hushed tones by some of the Canticle. It is my understanding they have brought a certain technology into being, until now one I thought would not be of great concern, given the Canticle is frozen like the rest of the Mainstays. But I have knowledge of one named Kade Arkhdevaunt who is present on Axildusk. He has uncovered this technology is present on Axildusk. I fear the Gelicus must too have a hidden place. It is my understanding that the Veer are responsible for the Cadavivva. If the Orokin and the Gelicus have a part in it as well, then hands must be clasped and the Veer must be influenced. In this, we Princes will take a hand, and the technology the Orokin introduced into Axildusk must be understood or contained.”
“The Realm or the Mainstay?” Axewing asks.
“The present. The Realm. This technology is known as the Warframe. This is what the Orokin have brought upon us. The Arcwrights of Axildusk have been given the knowledge of construction. We must find out who is behind it. Certainly there must be noble houses involved.”
“At least now we know where that information is coming from,” Axewing adds. “I knew this Kade. He was a goodly being.”
“He is still in Axildusk. He is upon a leviathan hunter. He sails on one. Before he left the City of Adhrilanka, he commissioned a Warframe. He was much taken with technology.” To Anubis, Benedict asks, “As for your quest, how will you set off on it?”
“I would prefer these things were to come to me.”
Axewing declares, “I will offer myself the quest for the All-Seeing Eye.”
“A wise offering, Anubis,” Bast says. “Your servant offers you the Eye, and with this you would be able to find it, and make short work of it. “
“Do you know where this thing is?” Anubis asks.
“I have had connections with the Veightal for a great deal of time. I bear upon myself the Cuirass of Ptah and the Ankh of Isis.”
“The Goddess Mother gave you this.”
“Yes. A construction I had made, my citadel upon Logresse, Excel, it was imbued with the spirits of the Veightal.”
“I have been there,” Anubis recalls. “I strode amongst your citizens. You had a carving of me in a place called….”
“We built a temple to you and the Veightal, a great pyramid.”
“It was a place of lingering strength, but this is not available here.”
“I will use my knowledge of the past to forge a proper direction for the future.”
“You must give this one a title,” Bast tells Anubis.
“He would not wish titles given by me.”
“Why would he refuse?
“Because he is free, and he is as he calls himself Outremer. He need not be one with us.”
“I have always been free to choose my path, and I will always choose to serve the Veightal,” Axewing affirms.
“Very well. Then because of what you have done in safeguarding my memories, I will call you my Chief Architect.” Anubis takes a black-and-white neck collar off and give it to Bast, who puts it around Axewing’s neck. “You may wear it on state occasions.”
Anubis turns and looks at Jack and Sybermane. “You are also with this Astra.”
“That’s right,” Sybermane confirms. “But we are associated with Shadow, not Time.”
“I too have had my affiliations with Shadow. I know the Dragon well. Why do you hang back?”
“We’re just accustomed to being in the shadows,” Jack replies.
“You have a regal bearing, sir,” Bast says. Sybermane looks around before realizing she speaks to him.
“That’s the first time I’ve been told that,” he tells her.
“Who are these ones who do not say this to you?”
“I don’t see it,” Dantalion admits.
“It is obvious to me, he has a noble stature. It is a fine head, is it not?” Bast asks Anubis, the latter asking, “Who are you?”
“I’m Sybermane, a servant of Khons and a Master of the Khrescent.”
“Khons,” Anubis pronounced the name slowly. “This is a name I have not heard spoken since before.”
“The God of the Night,” Bast says.
“We are not certain as to the motives of this Khons,” Axewing warns.
“He is the one who lay with Nephthys before this time,” Bast continues. “She was his consort, but he was not of the Veightal, like others. Even Amon for a time stood apart.”
“More God than demigod, however,” Anubis recalls. “We will need to speak to this Khons. You serve him?”
“I do,” Sybermane agrees.
“Why does he need servants?”
“I think that’s a question you would have to pose to him. I have not.”
“You interest me. What is your name again?”
“Sybermane.”
Anubis considers. “There is much here we have learned we must consider. Thank you for your loyalties,” he adds, looking mostly at Axewing. “Prince Benedict, I assume your loyalty is under question.”
“My loyalty lies with my principality and my family.”
“Of course. Gods do not need servants.”
“I appreciate your forbearance in this. I will of course inform my family of your generosity.”
Anubis looks anew at Dantalion. “You have been very quiet in this.”
“It is not my place to speak,” she answers.
“You can choose to serve us.”
“If you would have the name Dantalion beside you, I offer you my sword and heart.”
“I prefer you offer these great gifts to the Goddess. She has no servants of her own.”’
“I do not speak them, but I gather those who will come to me,” Bast says. “I sense there are many.”
“If you will have me, Goddess, I will serve you,” Dantalion pledges.
“It is like the time before. Is this wise?” Bast inquires.
“It is not the time before, when it was not as necessary,” Anubis advises.
“Then I will accept you as a servant, but I will allow you to seek your freedom if you need it.”
“The Master returns,” Benedict announces. “Make your farewells now.”
“Who is your king?” Anubis asks the Amberite.
“It is wise of you to question. It is not Oberon, it is Gerard.”
“Oberon is fallen?”
“There is much we must discuss.”
Bast and Anubis bow to all, take up the godmantle of Anhur and depart the bridge.
“I will return you to where you were plucked from,” The Master states.
Frobwusten reminds Tai-pan, “I did wish to have words with you.”
“It is good you are back. I need quite badly my Brazier.”
“Our lives were forfeit, all Rakshasa, whether fiend or mortal. Our destruction was at the hands of Anhur. It was through Shier Khan and this Anhur a wager was made and lost. This is what caused our lives to come to forfeiture. There was nothing I could do to resist my dissolution. Then I was returned.”
“A debt owed me was what your kind did in the betrayal, but you remained loyal.”
“What about this one?” Frobwusten asks, motioning to the tiger in uniform.
“They were ones I understood Anhur gathered unto himself,” Tai-pan tell him.
“But he too was dissolute and now returned.”
“I have no interest in anyone but yourself.”
“But this one is free.”
“I’ve removed Taggadagga and others from my book. I will allow you to make the case, if such is necessary.”
“How do you fare in my absence?”
“Things have been up and down, but at the moment, they’re more going up than down.”
“You seem yourself, but less.”
“Since the destruction of Dhaingaul, I have been searching for what I was missing. I think now I am content in my ambitions.”
“This ambition, does it involve a fiend like me in any way?”
“Of course.”
“But you are not Profane?”
“Currently I am human and a Lethal, but I intend to become the Consummate of Consummates.”
“Then you will need others.”
“I currently control a city called Karrion in Axildusk. Not as large as the capital, Adhrilanka. I have…I will explain these things to you once we return to Karrion. We are, as I stated, at war. Our enemies being those servants of the Monstrous and servants of Darkness.”
Benedict motions Tai-pan to come over to him. “The Master will return us to Karrion. From there, I will strike out to New Amber.”
Tai-pan heads toward Sybermane, who is standing with Jack again. Tai-pan stops and catches the Equinn’s eye, then motions his over.
“He wants to talk to you alone,” Jack says.
“Cover me. I’m going in.”
Jack instead walks over to the Ambassador of Cats. “So how are you getting along?” Tai-pan asks. “Well, with Axewing and Dantalion, not well at all.”
“I’ll just point out my particular situation, I don’t have any particular loyalties here. I don’t have Gods, I don’t have a Principled family, it’s really just me. I don’t know what your situation is, but I always viewed you as... we could find areas where like minds could agree on some common thoughts.”
“To what end?”
“Our own personal gain, to start. I don’t know what your ambitions are. If you wish to discuss them at some point, feel free to come to Karrion.”
“I’d expect so. Where would I find you there?”
“New Blackguard. Most people will know where it is. Until we meet again. Watch your back among this lot. One thing.” Tai-pan takes a coin out of his pocket. “The organization I work for, they’re called the Lethal in the city.” He hands over the coin. “Just give them that and say you want to return it to the Taipan.”
As Tai-pan departs, Jack returns, putting something in his jacket.
“Something the matter?” Jack inquires.
“You’re the only merely unfriendly face here,” Sybermane says, only half-joking. Jack in response pulls out his deck of Arcana. “Ah. That’s right. That’s what you have.”
“Yes,” Jack answers. “Let us find out what the why is at the moment.” He cuts a card from the deck and shows it to Sybermane.
The suit is of spades, but the image is a pair of reflected bits, dressed in red, each carrying a strange-looking knife.
“The suit is often a connotation of death. In this case, it seems appropriate, given the pair presented are the Bit.”
“But why the Joker?” Sybermane asks.
“Every card in my deck is a Joker. This particular mask, we need to memorize. Something about this Bit is important to us. It might be as simple as he might try to slay me. But it could be it means to slay Anubis or whoever. If I had time now to draw, I might learn more.”
“Is it necessarily a bad card?”
“Not likely, though the suit would indicate it. This symbol represents swords and violence. Espada is a type of sword. Keep it in mind, won’t you?”
Tai-pan and Benedict depart with Frobwusten, to Karrion. The two Gods take the mantle of Anhur and leave as well. Sybermane, Axewing, Dantalion and Shadowjack are left with The Master, along with the Ambassador of Cats.
“I wonder if I might have a word,” the last asks.
“You are of the military?” Dantalion asks, looking at his martial uniform.
“What? Pardon me. No, I am an ambassador, an emissary.”
“For what nation?” Dantalion inquires.
I don’t suppose it matters any more. I am told my world is no longer. I wonder if I might come with you, as I do not want to stay here.”
The Master smiles. “If they do not take you, you will have to stay here.” He makes the prospect sound unpleasant.
“Well, I don’t mind taking him,” Dantalion allows. “Surely Asurbanipal’s ship has room for one more.”
“I imagine, or he’ll drop him somewhere,” Axewing adds.
“The more the merrier,” Sybermane agrees. “We are quite possibly going into a battle.”
“I thank you for forbearance,” the ambassador says.
Axewing asks for a brief delay, and goes to the other side of the chasm, retrieving his axe before walking back to the group.
“I cannot say I wish you well,” The Master says in farewell.
Axewing, Dantalion, Sybermane, Shadowjack and the Ambassador find themselves in the midst of a pitched battle on the deck of the Silhouette.
“What was that Joker again?” Jack asks, as we look about us and see a dead Bit lying on the deck.
“Do you have a weapon?” Sybermane urgently asks the Ambassador.
“Yes. I have a military service revolver.”
Sybermane pauses a moment, then shrugs.
In the middle distance, he spots a vessel, like a ship with sails aloft, but its side and bottoms covered in tentacles. A large number of smaller ships, more globular but still with tentacles, a mix of organic and artificial, dart about, dropping off boarding parties.
Axewing strides forward, immediately seeking battle with a Bit. Sybermane looks for the target’s partner, and spots him in the rigging overhead, looking like he’s about to leap down and assassinate Axewing.
He also sees that the bulk of what the Bit are equipped with appears rather ordinary. The masks were slightly different, but not remarkably so, and the armour and weapons appeared rather uniform.
Sybermane draws bow and looses at the lurking Bit, who has stood and prepares to step off the spar he’s on, looking to assassinate Axewing, but he’s pinioned by a SSr arrow. The Bit screams and falls, hitting the deck and injuring himself further, beginning to bleed out. Axewing hears a thud and looks behind him to see a Bit there, dying, a knife still in his hand.
Axewing focuses on the first Bit, who’s staring at his fallen primary, and takes a meaty chunk out of the assassin’s chest with a slice. The Bit reels backward, and Axewing spots Asmodeus standing in a doorway in one of the buildings atop the deck. When he sees his fellow Obsidian, Asmodeus raises his flail toward him. Axewing, noting Bit nearby, walks that way. He sees a marble staircase, with Asmodeus atop it, and a Bit sliding down each handrailing toward him. Axewing lengthens his grip on his axe and swings it in a wide arc, hoping to strike both. His axe cuts into the first, and he falls screaming off the side of the staircase, but misses the second, who takes a swing with a knife as he passes, barely missing Axewing.
Sybermane and Jack are still surveying the scene on the open deck.
“Asurbanipal is over there,” Jack points out. Sybermane looks that way, and sees the captain has a couple of children with him, and he is glancing around, cutlass in hand. Sybermane goes to him.
“Is there someplace safe to take the children?”
“If there was, I would do it,” Asurbanipal replies. “What I think is safest is if we deal with the command vessel. These will lose their will to fight if we cripple the main ship.”
“How?”
“I was sort of hoping you would know. Who is that?”
“A friend, apparently. I don’t know. He’s a fucking tiger, okay?”
“The Dragon and the Pernan fellow is there,” Asurbanipal indicates. Thermocles has his rapier out, while his dragon is lashing out with its teeth. “He obviously can get you there.”
Jack comes over after Asurbanipal waves his sword at him, and the Ambassador arrives at the same time.
“We have a terrible plan,” Sybermane tells them. “You and I are going over to the command vessel with the Pernan. I’ll distract the crew while you find a way to sabotage it.”
“You’re right,” Jack replies. “That’s a terrible plan. You’ll be with us, Ambassador. You’ll be perfect for the role you’ll play. How will we get there?”
“The Pernan.”
Axewing strikes the second Bit again, and he reels back, looks around, and decides to take his chances fighting another of Silhouette’s crewmen.
Thermocles, who has come over to join the group around Asurbanipal, asks, “Have we figured out a way to leave this cursed place yet?”
“I suppose we should consider leaving,” Asurbanipal agrees, then asks, “What was our reason for being here?”
“Eliminating the Bit,” Sybermane reminds him.
“Can we do that?” Asurbanipal gestures toward the scores of Bit visible on his deck.
Jack points to the command vessel, and says, “I’m worried they could do us some damage on the way out.”
“Those tentacles look like they could do some real damage to the ship,” the captain concurs. “We need to at least disable the command ship. If we bring it into Axildusk, I don’t know if environment can stand it.”
They send Thermocles back to his dragon, telling him they’ll gather others and meet him there. Sybermane moves forward leading Jack and the Ambassador, and finds a couple of dead Bit at the bottom of a stairwell, axe wounds obvious on them. He looks up the steps to see Asmodeus standing in an entrance to a building, Axewing with him.
“It is good to see you,” Asmodeus is greeting Axewing. “No doubt you have a lot to tell me.”
“The others will be able to explain better, I expect,” Axewing claims. “Where did these come from?”
“The main ship over there,” Asmodeus says, pointing to the command vessel.
“I wonder if my gifts of Light would work in this space or not,” Axewing ponders.
“Are they things of the Astra?”
“They are the gifts of the Thoughts,” Axewing explains.
“Then they would undoubtedly work.”
“I will cast a storm upon the ship,” Axewing declares, as Sybermane, Jack and the Ambassador arrive.
“Well, here we are, ready to fight and so on,” Jack says unenthusiastically.
“I need to get in line of sight of the main vessel,” Axewing tells the others.
“Asurbanipal has suggested we board that vessel,” Jack points out.
Sybermane adds, “There are things Asurbanipal thinks are important to do there so the ship can’t follow us back to Axildusk.”
Axewing relates his plan to cast a storm upon the ship, but others suggest, given its nature, it was probably built to endure such maelstroms. Asmodeus recommends creating a storm inside the vessel, to do the most damage possible, and asks if that is possible.
“It is storm of the Veightal,” Axewing answers. “It is powered by a Thought.”
“So will it work or won’t it?” Jack demands. “I imagine it would work just as easily inside the ship as beyond it. Most of these vessels are designed to withstand a battering from outside. We better disable those tentacles before they can attach to the ship. Unfortunately, I’m in my tech-lacking period currently. I am much more sorcerous at the moment.”
“If we can disable it or the like, they won’t be able to get to the Silhouette,” Sybermane suggests.
They head back to Thermocles’ dragon, fighting their way through bit with relative ease as a group, and are joined by Dantalion.
“You wish to go to the vessel?” Thermocles asks when they arrive.
“The interior, if you can take us,” Axewing requests.
“I have only seen a door near where I rescued you. Will that do?”
“It will have to,” Sybermane answers, and Thermocles teleports them to just outside the outer hatch he had mentioned on the Flagellant Receptor.
Axewing strides to the hatch and sees a recessed handle he grabs, but it is locked in place. He puts his shoulder to the hatch, and knocks if off its rails, enough so he can manhandle it open.
“Very interesting technique,” Jack observes drily. “Very odd indeed. See here, there is a cover on the floor, like a large drain. This looks like a towel.”
”Would you hurry up?” Asmodeus urges.
“I was just trying to discern what this room is used for,” Jack defends himself. He heads over to a sliding door, touching it with both hands, and hears a click. He slides it open with the latch, and see another passageway, then opens another door. That opens into a round room, a table covered in what appear to dishes of sliced brains in the centre. Everyone crowds inside, seeing three bodies strewn across the floor. Two are Bit, one male and one female, and are dead. “Either somebody got here before us, or Ceptor and Mirable think for some reason we’ve accepted the deal they offered to help deal with the Bit,” Sybermane offers.
“Does this deal involved them getting rid of the Bit?” Axewing questions.
“We don’t really care,” insists an impatient Asmodeus. “We’re going to destroy the ship and everyone on it, aren’t we?”
“That would be ideal.”
“Let us be about it then.”
Jack interjects, “But I would like to immobilize it first, in case the destruction is incomplete.” The chamber had three more doors, one at each quadrant, and they hear a metallic ringing noise, like someone banning on something.
“You know these brains they’re eating, they look fresh. So they would have to have come from somebody,” Sybermane suggests.
“Can we just destroy the ship?” an exasperated Asmodeus implores.
A metallic bang resumes. Sybermane heads over to a door and listens at it. When he tries to open it, it is locked.
“What’s the matter?” Jack asks.
“It’s locked,” Sybermane answers, surprised Jack would ask.
“I was thinking of something else. It that body dead?”
Sybermane steps over and examines the woman on the deck. He checks, and she seems both alive and human, rather than a Bit.
Axewing takes her pulse, and finds it thready.
“Come here,” Axewing orders the Ambassador. “Help her up.”
Before the tiger can respond, Axewing casts a healing on the woman, seemingly reviving her, though she’s still in rough shape. She is indeed a human, and wearing a black uniform. “Who are you?” she demands. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re rescuing you, among other things,” Axewing tells her.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” the woman says, looking nervous but keeping a lid on her fear. “That’s right. Our captors were here, laughing at our predicament. And something happened. They were joined by another, the one who is the subcommander. He has shocking hair, quite alarming in its coloration.”
“Red hair?” Sybermane asks, thinking of Ceptor.
“Not so red as purple. He was instructing them in what was to occur. And then one of these others, the woman, said something about it not making sense. She turned to her partner. There was a flurry of communication, and the male stood up and moved on the subcommander. I rushed in to try to stop such insubordination. It’s not allowed.”
“You are crew?” Sybermane asks.
“I work on the vessel.”
“You said they were your captors.”
“I can’t remember all the details. The subcommander, he was working for, for…he was working for the Sax.”
“I know a Maldon Sax,” Sybermane announces abruptly.
“Something is the matter with my head,” the woman complains. “I feel as if I’ve been out for a week, celebrating something.”
“You’ve likely been under some kind of control,” Axewing informs her. He then heads over to Sybermane, who has opened the door they heard the banging from. The space beyond looks unkempt, the floor plates placed haphazardly.
“This is the place where we keep the animals,” the crew member explains. “Livestock mostly. Sheep and cows.”
“Where is the room that controls the engines of this vessel?” Axewing asks.
“That way, but the weapons are the other way.”
“Livestock and weapons,” Jack notes. “What a strange vessel. What shall we do?”
“Let’s go to the control centre,” Axewing decides. They follow the crew member through a couple of hatches and passageways, the crew member halting there, and they come to a third hatch, which they open.
“This doesn’t look like a control centre,” Jack says with distaste as they enter the compartment. “It looks like something else.”
They see a body on a table, and further away a vat filled with organs. The stench is overpowering.
“Where are you going?” the crew member says, having followed them. “This is not the way to the control room. This is the sick bay, where we tend to the wounded and so on.”
“Which way to the control room, then?” Axewing demands.
She indicates going the other way down the corridor, and they march along it to find another hatch. It opens for her identification, and she, Jack and Axewing enter a short, brightly-lit corridor ending in another hatch.
“Are we generally watched, going through this corridor?” Axewing asks the crew member.
“It’s possible. Are you so interesting, that you’d be watched?”
The second hatch doesn’t open for her identification, and she looks perplexed. “That’s very strange.”
The outer door starts to close on them, and Sybermane, who has remained outside, grabs its edge, trying to keep it open. He succeeds, barely, but his fingers are bruised and trapped in the process.
Axewing, seeing that, walks back and puts his shoulder to the door, which doesn’t help. In fact, Sybermane’s fingers are now badly bruised.
“What the devil are you doing?” Asmodeus demands, outside and next to Sybermane. He takes the handle of his flail and uses it to pry open the hatch. Sybermane hastily removes his fingers from the hatch’s edge.
“Can you check with the crew member to see if it can be locked open?” Sybermane suggests. Instead, Axewing grabs the edge of the door and tries to slide it back, managing the feat. Asmodeus lowers his flail handle, and starts in. The door then slams shut on him, but Axewing manages to pull Asmodeus mostly through, the door only trapping the latter’s trailing elbow in the process, injuring him.
“Could you ask the crew member if she can lock the door open somehow?” Sybermane repeats.
“I’ve been doing so,” she answers. “I’m sorry, My mind is a bit muddled. It must have bene what I was eating, though it seemed perfectly fine roast beef.” Everyone else in sight of each other exchanged brief looks, then resumed what they were doing.
“Does someone want to try to get me free?” Asmodeus asks. “Just pry the door open again.”
The hatch opens slightly to Axewing’s strenuous shove. Then he swings his axe at it, buckling the hatch though not cutting through its polyfibre construction. He pulls Asmodeus through, then boots the hatch in frustration. It tries three or four times to close again, then stops, halfway open.
“Damn these insidious doors,” Sybermane says mockingly.
Before Jack can do anything about the innermost hatch, it opens, and they spill inside the compartment beyond.
“You call this a control area?” Jack asks incredulously. “Can you control it?”
The room has the furnishings of a cabin, a bookshelf against one way, a chest of drawers against another. The only exception is a round golden crystal of some size in the centre, and other, jagged crystals jutting out from the deck surrounding it.
“If need be,” the crew member answers.
“We want to turn the engine off,” Jack tells her.
The crew member proceeds to turn knobs on the chest of drawers a couple of times. “That’s just about everything, other than…,” she rearranges a few books on the shelves…”the engines should be well and truly off now.”
“Can I ask a question?” Sybermane inquires. “Why is there no one in the control area, when they’re fighting a battle?”
“I am more concerned that this place does not seem like a control room,” Asmodeus says doubtfully.”
“Perhaps I should just begin my casting,” Axewing suggests.
“I know one of the Sax,” Sybermane says, a thought occurring to him. “Let me see if I can reach him. He might want the ship back.”
Sybermane, recalling his previous experience with Sreigorn, reaches out in his mind for Maldon, also known as the Tai-pan, and those around the Equinn see a blue ghostlight discharging from his mane, hairs standing on end as of electrified.
Maldon has just seen Benedict off, and is in a room with Etsio, one of his Lethal, when he notices a flaring spectral image of a horse-headed figure. Etsio pulls a knife, but Maldon holds up a hand to stop any further action.
“Sybermane?” Maldon asks. The Equinn explains the situation, stressing that, if Maldon doesn’t claim the ship immediately, it will be destroyed.
“I don’t really have any skills with ships,” Maldon tells Sybermane.
“There’s no Profane or Sax here. The one crew member we found is human.”
“As I said, I don’t know much about ships.”
“What about the sailor?” Etsio interjects. “The one you found.”
Maldon looks puzzled, and Etsio explains a man dredged out of Karrion Harbour one day looked like he might be Scowline, an old supporter of Maldon’s, but his mind wasn’t his own. He was recognized because of a mask Maldon had given him.
Maldon is doubtful. “Even if he is, he’s in no shape. If it’s one of my mother’s….”
“Maybe he’d be happy to help,” Etsio persists.
“But if it’s my mother’s or aunt’s ship, it would do nothing for me.”
“You told me, Scowline is from a place under the sea. You lived there.”
Maldon looks at Sybermane. “Where did you get this ship?”
“We’re in a battle. Weren’t you just asking The Master about where your family might be?”
“Yes. Of course. The Master implied this would not be a happy story for me.”
“What if he isn’t telling the truth? There’s at least a crew member to question.”
Maldon looks back at Etsio. “Well, bring Scowline, then. This will help his mind in the end.” The Lethal departs on the errand, and Maldon again speaks to Sybermane. “Tell me. Do you have a method of bringing me? I have a Guildsman who served in the Serpican Depths. He is skilled in the Sax way. Do you have a way of bringing us through?”
“Is Benedict there? He could bring you.” Learning Benedict already left, Sybermane says, “There might be a way. I’ll try.”
In due course, Etsio returns with Scowline, the latter appearing unkempt. Malahide stands and comes around his desk, and Scowline comes to a semblance of attention.
“We’re going to attempt to board a Sax vessel that has been taken over. We have some allies aboard who will bring us through. If you can, perhaps you can manage the controls?”
“Of course. If I am able,” Scowline replies.
Sybermane imagines a beam of moonlight connecting this chamber to the compartment aboard the Flagellant receptor, and the Lethal find themselves transported there. Sybermane is pleased.
Scowline glances about, and says, “Everything seems Sax shipshape, Commander.”
Maldon recognizes the large crystal in the middle of the compartment as a control structure used by the Sax family for its ships. It’s obviously magical. He recalls he designed a similar system for a ship he was having built, the Scafyre. The room is ellipsoid, too.
“Can you take control of it, then?” he asks Scowline.
“If you wish. What is it you wish me to do?”
“I assume we’re going to Axildusk.”
The crew member peers at Scowline, then asks him, “Captain?”
“There we go,” Sybermane mutters.
“Ah,” Scowline answers. “And who might you be?”
“You do not know?” the crew member asks.
“Should I?”
Maldon realizes the woman’s uniform looks like those worn by Scowline’s unit in the past. Sybermane suggests Axewing heal Scowline, since that has worked before to restore someone to his senses. Axewing does so, but it’s not enough.
“You should get a wooden arm,” Scowline suggests to Axewing. “A hook perhaps.”
“Padrone, il imbecilo.” Etsio says, touching his head and whistling.
“Good of you to try,” Sybermane acknowledges. “It was worth a shot.”
He asks Dantalion if she, too, can perform healings.
“No.”
“Can you provide coordinates to Axildusk?” Maldon asks.
“Who, me?” the crew member responds.
“Some of us should take the dragon back to the ship and tell them what has occurred,” Jack suggests. Then the inner hatch bangs shut again.
“Can this ship follow the other one?” Maldon asks, meaning the Silhouette.
“Of course,” Asmodeus answers. “That’s why we set out to destroy it.”
“But not now,” Maldon pointed out.
“Obviously the answer is yes.”
“There’s another vessel,” Maldon tells Scowline, “If someone can help in terms of communicating with it.”
A loud sound like a cymbal begins.
“There’s the alarm,” Sybermane offers.
“A warning,” Scowline corrects. “Something has happened to set this klaxon off. A vessel approaches. Prepare the weapons. Why is the crew not responding?”
“We have no crew,” the crew member tells him.” They are all ill. You have been away.”
“I believe the ship was taken over,” Maldon states. “Is this not right?”
The ship rocks violently.
“Without a crew, what are we to do?” Scowline demands mournfully.
The crew member starts moving crystals in an out on the control structure.
“What is this weapon they’re using?” Scowline asks.
“We need to either get off this ship, or get control of it in a damn hurry,” Asmodeus urges.
“It looks like another command vessel,” Sybermane observes when an image appears of their attacker, a vessel also sporting multiple tentacles.
“Give me its coordinates. Give me its design.” Scowline stares at the image. “What kind of monstrosity is this?”
“It means to ram us again, I believe,” the crew member warns. The opponent turns and approaches rapidly.
Axewing offers, “Perhaps we should do as before. Get on that ship, and then return here.” He attempts psychic contact with Thermocles, and gets through.
“Is it Axewing, is it not?” Thermocles says.
“Can you take me to the attacking ship? I only need to be there long enough to cast my gift.”
“You will have to come here,” Thermocles responds from outside the ship. “The dragon is too large.”
Axewing relates that to the others in the control chamber.
“It is firing projectiles at us now,” the crew member reports. The impacts reverberate through the hull.
As Axewing heads for the compartment hatch, they are distracted by a banging coming through it.
“Hello?” Axewing asks. “Is anyone there?” He gets no response. “We will help you.”
They join forces to slide the door open, and see a human there, a patch over his right eye, the left looking at them. Then the newcomer looks again and those in the chamber. Axewing pushes past him.
“Are you crew?” Sybermane asks.
“Well, of course,” the man replies.
Sybermane and Dantalion follow Axewing. Maldon, preparing his parazon blades, heads toward the new voice, but the Ambassador gets there first.
“Captain?” Maldon says. “Scowline? Do you know this person?”
“I’m trying to save the ship,” Scowline protests.
“I’ve seen him on board,” the crew member volunteers. “He’s a trader of vessel parts. He has a commissioned rank of lieutenant he’s allowed to use.”
Etsio swears under his breath, "Ascendo tuum."
“What is going on in this vessel, with the rocking?” the trader asks. “Is it time to leave, to save oneself?”
“In the old days, you’d be evacuated, all right,” Maldon tells him. “My advice to both of you is to stay out of the way,” he tells the trader and the Ambassador.
Sybermane and Dantalion, arriving in the dining compartment with its grisly spread, hear a tapping coming again, from the open hatch to the right they never explored.
“I think we should check,” Dantalion says.
They see a corridor, and Sybermane goes to its end. He tries the door, but it is locked. He and Dantalion, exploring further, find what seem to be animal stalls. They discover a disheveled woman in an elaborate military uniform sprawled in a stall, her clothing even more ornate than the Ambassador’s, but dingy and wrinkled. She has dark hair and seems human.
“Interesting,” the woman comments dispiritedly, at seeing her two would-be liberators.
“This is a rescue, I suppose, so if you’d like to be….”
“You can’t fool me,” the prisoner protests, but she eases herself to her feet, and hobbles toward Sybermane, favoring her left knee. “You haven’t given me a lot of strength left to me.”
Dantalion approaches, and the woman looks at her and snorts. “Really! What will they think of next, eh?”
She reaches out and her knuckle prods Sybermane’s shoulder to see if he’s real.
“You’re a prisoner on this ship?” he asks.
“We are freeing you,” Dantalion insists. “Don’t you understand?”
“Why not tell me you will let me take my ship?”
“I think she means the smaller vessel on the deck,” Sybermane suggests.
“You think I mean it, do you?”
Axewing has reached the outer hatch, and sees Thermocles hovering outside on his dragon. A moment later, Axewing finds himself on the deck of the attacking vessel, and can see no crew members in sight, but tentacles start to move his way. He evades them, his gift requiring a full minute to unleash.
“The All-Consuming Storm of Wrathful Retribution” begins to unfold. A churning storm cloud appears and spreads across thousands of feet.
“Let’s take her back to the others,” Sybermane suggests with some exasperation.
“Am I free?” the prisoner asks skeptically.
“Yes,” Dantalion tells her. The woman walks to the far end of the corridor and struggles to open the hatch that Sybermane had already found locked. “I thought I was free! You could open the door and let me loose, yes?”
“We’ve just been forcing open the doors,” Sybermane tells her.
“Can’t you just command it to open? Whatever you’re up to, I’m not falling for it.”
The prisoner returns and tries to hit Sybermane, then attempts to grab the mask on his shoulder. She looks chagrined when he leans out of the way.
“The mask could hurt you,” Sybermane explains.
They arrive at the outer hatch with the prisoner just as Axewing is returned by Thermocles.
“It wasn’t exactly a crew,” Axewing mentions, telling them what he had found.
“Strange place, this Aethera,” Dantalion comments.
The trader asserts, “If you were in fact of the House of the Sax, you will know I have a dispensation to visit your vessel.”
“All earlier arrangements are fluid at the moment,” Maldon admits.
Jack leans in toward Maldon, but Etsio puts a hand on Jack’s chest and pushes him away. Etsio releases a parazon blade, and Jack takes a step back. “I just wanted a quiet word,” he protests.
“That’s what they all say, Amico.” Etsio countered.
“This one-eyed man,” Jack continues. “He is not what he appears. I’m beginning to get a sense for this one now. This one is a flayer of minds.”
“I see,” Maldon replies.
The Ambassador, meanwhile, is chatting with the mind flayer in question.
“Fascinating. So you came to this world from the Careworn Sea, you say.”
“Perhaps I will be able to remove my cargo when we come to port,” the mind flayer replies.
“It might be useful to arrange a trade delegation.”
“My organization would be happy to arrange a trade agreement.”
Maldon interrupts. “Do you have any documents in regard to your prior agreement?”
“Yes, of course,” the mind flayer answers. “But they’re too valuable to have on my person.”
Maldon releases his parazon blade and buries it in the flayer’s head, killing it instantly. The Ambassador grabs Maldon from behind, and Jack boots the tiger in the side of his head. “Oh. Oh. I am wounded!”
“What’s the big idea?” Jack demands, grabbing the ambassador.
“Let him go. He was under its influence,” Maldon says. He starts rifling through his victim’s possessions, finding, apart from weapons and armour, only a few glowing spears that feel organic and bear some resemblance to living tissue, more chitinous than mammalian. The creature, having resumed its true form, doesn’t look like a flayer to him.
“I feel more clear-headed now,” the Ambassador says. “I wanted to say things, but couldn’t, and instead I said things I didn’t mean to say.”
“You were being told what to do and say,” Jack remarks.
“We should probably think about departing,” Asmodeus says, “but you might not wish to,” the last directed at Maldon.
“We’ll take the vessel to Axildusk,” Maldon tells them.
“And we will leave you here. What is the vessel’s name?”
“The Scafyre.”
“Come on, Shadowjack, let’s get out of this place.”
“We are still under attack!” Scowline protests.
The Ambassador joins Shadowjack and the others when they leave, and Thermocles, when they reach the outer hatch, teleports all of them to the Silhouette.
“Ah, there you are,.” Asurbanipal greets them. “I hope you are ready to depart.”
“The other ship is in friendly hands now,” Sybermane reports. “It will follow us.”
The Scafyre follows the Silhouette but, even as they emerge from the Aethera into the material, another command vessel arrives and goes after the Scafyre. Putting on a great burst of speed, it nears the former Flagellant Receptor.
“That’s my ship there,” the rescued prisoner cries, pointing to the smaller, golden vessel on the deck of the Scafyre. “It’s call the Chugger. It’s a shame we’re not going to get it back.”
The Scafyre comes under hideous attack, tentacles gripping it, seemingly much more powerful than those on Maldon’s ship. It appears about to be overwhelmed, when another vessel appears from behind and rams into the intruder, freeing the Scafyre.
A massive shuddering impact is followed by an enormous explosion.
He’s thinking about reporting back to Foreve the Marillion, since she had given him the task of guarding the life of Asher Zi, whose story had ended both heroically and badly only a few hours earlier, his soul destroyed by a Morganti dagger wielded by a Bit. His sacrifice had saved Kashmir’s life.
Even as he ponders this, he feels a psychic contact, and opens his mind, realizing it’s Foreve contacting him. Her sword is sheathed, but her hand rests on the pommel. She is handsome in profile, and her capability shows utter confidence.
They converse, and Foreve says she had chosen to bring him to Axildusk because she finds the Delve agreeable.
She tells him, “In a way, you musts decide what to make of yourself.”
Dagnyr tells her he thinks he will pursue a posting within the Draegeran Empire, to assist Elric in his quest to become its ruler. He mentions the Special Tactics Group members he had seen consulting with Elric earlier over the attempt on his life that ended in Elric’s death. Perhaps he will join them.
“I am a maker of things,” she says. “Perhaps a small device, to make you a more attractive recruit.”
Knowing he is in a Veerish city, even if they are called Draegerans know, and that Veer always have a connection to the Ourth, he suggests a spyglass allowing him to peer beneath the surface of streets and buildings, to discover what secrets lies hidden underneath. He sees a ring form behind her and, as she moves toward it, it becomes more and more elaborate. A section looks like a forge, another like an alchemist’s bench, another featuring technological displays. A section lights up and begins to emit heat, and then Foreve turns around and returns to Dagnyr.
She hands him a collapsible eyeglass, covered in metal with a gray lustre, and a rainbow effect, as if anodized. She tells him this will function as he suggests and, the longer he carries it and more he uses it, the device might become more a part of him. Foreve closes telling him that, if he sends reports of his activities to her, she will distribute them to the other Marillion, so none feel snubbed.
“The prince,” she adds. “If he is to be a king, you will need his ear. You will need to work on this.”
Finding himself back at the Playships, Dagnyr takes leave of his guard post and goes to a large lounge. The room is full of Draegerans. He sees someone more of his height standing at the bar, tapping an empty tumbler on the wood, a scowl on his face, and Dagnyr goes to stand beside him. He turns out to be a human.
Dagnyr engages the other in conversation. He’s not usually gregarious, but he’d been taught how to be sociable if needed as an Olo Feradir, since he would often work with outsiders. He mentions the epaulette-like tube, glowing blue, that the human, who is named Gaffelippyn, wears on one shoulder.
“It is a defence mechanism,” Gaff explains. He has only recently been seconded to the Stigs, as the STG’s members are known, and Draegerans find it hard to believe that otherwise. It’s powered by ghostlight, he explains. He’d been seconded to the Stigs from the city’s “bluecoats” constabulary some months earlier, at the behest of his brother, by Major General ith’Mwoden. Gaff boasts of having learned some tricks he can perform with the ghostlight, and pulls out a pistol obviously powered by that particular type of magical essence.
He says the pistol is made of an alloy of three elements, and Dagnyr can tell one is steel, but doesn’t recognize the others. He sees no joins on the weapon, and compliments Gaff on its construction. The pistol had been manufactured by arcwrights, he admits, but he imbued the ghostlight into it.
“Some Easterners have capacity with ghostlight,” Gaff relates, but he has chosen another path.
Dagnyr, seeking entry into the Stigs, offers to help Gaff in his own investigation of Asher Zi’s death. They make their way out of the ship the lounge is on, onto rocks outside and then along rickety wooden pilings haphazardly placed in the river water surrounding the Playships. They seek to wave down a boatman to take them to shore, but Dagnyr spots a strange glow coming from the water, under pilings behind them. He walks over and, noticing a glowing figure some distance below the surface, dives down.
He sees a humanoid figure holding onto a piling, wearing elaborate scale armour. How he’s managing to not drown, Dagnyr doesn’t know. He seems to be watching the Delve intently. Dagnyr points to the surface and swims upward. His lungs weren’t yet bursting, but he was glad to feel the fresh air. He climbs onto a piling but, instead of the scale-armour figure surfacing, he sees him swimming away.
He and Gaff spot an Orca woman piloting a boat, and she acknowledges their beckoning, and she turns their way. But then, they also see the glowing figure underwater heading toward her skiff, and moments later it is upended. The Orca is swearing creatively as she splashes into the river, and her skiff is turned upside down. She also loses the pole she had been propelling his boat with.
Dagnyr runs and dives into the water, swimming strongly toward the pole. Rather than take it directly to the woman, which might upset the underwater figure, he pushes it toward him, then swims back to Gaff.
Once there, he climbs out and they confer. He suggests the human try to contact his superior, the major-general, but Gaff can’t reach him. Dagnyr then suggests a STIG major he had seen earlier. Major Itterari arrives on the rocks by teleport, and waves them off the pilings to join her.
Everoe, the Orca boat pilot, arrives about the same time, clutching her pole.
After Gaff reports to the Major, a Dzur, she takes Dagnyr aside for a conversation. She warns against taking chances in the name of glory. Benedict’s brother Finndo, he learns, is operating in Adriana’s Lost City.
Gaff, she alerts him, works for the Major-General, who perhaps should not be trusted. She then calls Gaff over, and tells him the Stig have an interest in me, and to escort me to Iron Hook, a great prison south of the Playships, to speak to Captain Enfreet.
Gaff, with little practice in teleportation, persuades the Major to send them there, and they arrive in what seems to be a huge, eerie underground sewer works, ghostlight coming down through a great oculus to illuminate a pile of skulls. Water is between them and any solid purchase, and, Gaff warns, the liquid carries disease.
At one point, Dagnyr, his eyes able to penetrate darkness, sees a gate across the water squeal open, and a strange figure appear, holding at least one Morganti dagger. A sense of dread settles over the cloaca and, after describing the newcomer, Gaff identifies it as a Serioli. Eventually, the leering creature disappears into the gate once more, and it closes, just as Captain Enfreet spots them.
He orders a warden to lay down planks so they can cross safely over the warden, and then Enfreet escorts them through the dank, cavernous dungeon to what appear to be two rooms, one dark, one brightly lit.
Dagnyr settles into the dark one, and then barred doors slam shut, not to his surprise. Then Gaff is locked in the lit cell, despite his protests.
Captain Enfreet quietly warns that one will come to visit Dagnyr, and he better be on his best behaviour.
A Lady in Blue came to Dagnyr’s cell, letting herself in. “I have potential use for you, but I must be certain,” she says. After a conversation, she tells him she will inform Enfreet she has a use for the Delve.
In response to a question, she told him he now belongs to an organization that, if he was pressed for a name, he could identify as the Lavodes.
She informs Dagnyr he will find himself in the Aetherea, and there, he could determine if he had a desire to help those he finds himself with.
“The Captain is not a confidante,” she cautions.
Dagnyr finds himself in a room that seems to be a motion, a feeling he identifies on being aboard a ship of some kind. He sees quite a few nautical types about him, a motley array, all looking very capable.
Nearby, a Draegeran identifies himself as Tusundujuane N’Varr. He wears bracers attached to his clothing.
Sundujuane, as he goes by, say he is a Chreotha, and suggests the two of them take preemptive action against a distant ship they can see through a window, before a more general battle is joined. Dagnyr, being Olo Feradir, readily agrees. They teleport, and find themselves in a very dark chamber, and Dagnyr still feels a sense of motion.
Sundujuane opens the door to a chamber and finds a wooden staircase leading upward. On his third step, they both hear a syrupy noise. It’s a Monstrous trap, and it clutches the Chreotha’s foot and begins creeping up his legs.
“It’s stinging me,” Sundujuane complains quietly. Dagnyr carefully fires a bolt into the jelly, and it drops and sloughs off Sundujuan’s leg. They finish climbing the stairs and find themselves on an open deck, seemingly deserted. In the distance, they see the Aethera and its spectacular display.
They make their way forward, and Dagnyr senses a Monstrous as they are knocked to the deck, trapped by an enveloping creature resembling a ship’s sail. The Delve tries to get loose, but fails. He’s almost unable to move. He triggers his crossbow, then painfully reloads and does so again, and the creature, whatever it is, dies. But he and Sundujuan are still trapped under its weight.
Dagnyr hears a distant rumbling noise, and then a knocking. He manages to work his head out from under the creature, and sees a woman, only two-and-a-half feet, like a fairy out of the stories but with pointed ears instead of wings, standing nearby. She talks like a child,
and tells him she has the anthuan, whatever that might be. Dagnyr, inspired, tells her he has faegrist, or fairy dust, crushed gems extracted from the Ourth, and she is intrigued. She’s joined, though, by her more cynical sprite,
Gryllis, who appears like an experienced sailor, and wields a strange stone sword she offers to introduce him to.
Finally, a third appears, this one male, who calls himself Vanabah. He says he and the other are Gnoman.
“The Delve I have a fondness for,” Vanabah tells Dagnyr, explaining he trained under one. He says he and his crew work for the Illithyd, and they man a prison ship where Draegerans await in captivity to be consumed by the mind flayers, “But I have a piratical heart.”
Vanabah agrees to release Dagnyr for the faegrist he possesses, and then the Delve persuades them to do the same for Sundujuane. They engage the Gnoman in conversation, and then Sundujuane provides a distraction so Dagnyr can discover the name of the ship, “The Roostever,” from Deela. A dinghy she points to she says she has named the Bowsprite. Dagnyr strikes a deal. Vanabah will release all the prisoners, and allow the vessel to be used in coming battle as a fire ship, in return for an offer of safe haven and reward on Axildusk. Sundujuane returns to the Silhouette to inform its captain of the arrangement, while Dagnyr, pleased to be engaged as an Olo Feradir again, makes plans with Vanabah, who mentions that he has yet to meet a fourth crew members, another Gnoman.
the fourth member of the crew and the arranger of the Roostever’s grand explosion, throw a crystal at the Bit caught in Axewing’s grasp. It comes to rest right between the assassin’s legs.
“I suggest you let him go,” Vanabah advises. “It could be rather difficult if you don’t.”
Axewing chooses to throw the Bit on top of the crystal, which goes off with a muffled “Phmpt.” The Bit’s body rises, then falls again.
“Oh my,” Vanabah comments. “That is quite unusual.”
“That’s terrible,” Deela moans. “What is it?”
“It is a terrible way to die,” Vanabah answers. “But better him than me.”
Penta looks at Axewing. “We have obtained suitable quarters?”
“We are just trying to arrange that now,” Vanabah tells her. “We are often at the mercy of captains who take us here and there,” he adds for Axewing’s benefit.
“I will go and prepare more explosions,” Penta states. “I will entertain questions in the evening, perhaps.”
As she leaves, Jack says to Axewing, “Here. This should distract you.” Jack hands over the playing card he had shown Sybermane earlier, with the mirrored Bit. “My Power. Look, by way of explanation. He attacked you, yes? So I thought I would take the opportunity to draw another Arcana.”
Jack gives another card to Axewing.
“Why, it is a relical item,” Vanabah says in wonder. “I would know one if I saw one.” He then gestures to Axewing’s cuirass, the Armour of Time. “I thought perhaps you would be using it, but you didn’t.”
“That’s a very nice cuirass you have there,” Gryllis agrees. “I have something as well.” She pats her sword, then draws the blade a small distance. The material reveals is purplish, and made of some kind of stone. She adds, “I’m pretty ravenous at this point.”
A sailor approaches. “We reached the Prime Material. The Captain asked me to tell you.”
Sybermane instructs, “Please tell the captain we have four new guests, who helped in the survival of the other vessel.”
Vanabah notes, “By way of introduction, I am the leader of we few Gnoman who are here. Gryllis here is my right hand, and Deela is my left.”
Deela adds, ”I have the anthuan.”
“Don’t be rude, Deela, put that away. They don’t need to know these things. When we reach the Prime, we will need to find a place to stay. Do you know somebody who has property?”
Jack interjects, “We need to discuss this before we get to town.”
“You’ll have to talk to our new friend,” Vanabah instructs. “Dagnyr Perildar.”
Dagnyr, who had enjoyed a momentary break from the Gnoman, despite his liking for them, returns. “I told them they’d be treated well for their help.”
Sailors shout, “Adhrilanka Ho!” That’s followed by a few murmurs as they fly by the palace, where neither Phoenix nor Draegeran banners fly.
“It appears there is no emperor,” Jack deduces.
“Is there normally a period between?” Axewing asks.
“There would be fighting between rivals. Elric might need our assistance when we arrive. I suggest we prepare for battle.”
When they dock, Sreigorn approaches and says he needs to take everyone to an inn nearby. Once around a table, he reveals, “There have been developments. The Girl, she has transformed.”
“In what way?” Axewing asks.
“She has matured. It’s like she emerged from a chrysalis when she woke up.”
At that moment, a young, dark-haired beauty, just shy of six feet tall, walks out, pulling out a sword as she approaches.
She wears a black dress with orange blazes along its bottom, and geometric tattoos cover her shoulders. She has emerald green eyes, like Asher Zi had, and wore jade jewelry in her ears. She moves gracefully, and when she arrives at their table, places her sword upon it.
“I greet new members of the Obsidian and those who travel with them.” She bows her head briefly.
Sreigorn shuffles to his feet. “Gentlemen, may I present Kashmir?”
“My sword is ready for the coming fight,” she says. When she sits, they notice the train of her dress looks like a butterfly’s wings, in black and orange. Sybermane sees her gazing commandingly at everyone.
“When will we take action in Asher’s name?” she demands.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some hours earlier
Dagnyr Perildar, a Delve and member of the Olo Feradir, tips back a chair as he guards the corridor leading to Kashmir’s room, supplementing Sana, who has staked out the door. She seems to be sleeping, but has one eye open. He’s further down the corridor, with his crossbow cradled in his arms.Back in the present
Just before the explosion as the Roostever rams the Illithyd ship engaging the Scafyre, Dagnyr is running down a passageway, trying to get on deck to hurl himself free. Just as he thinks he is too late, he hears Vanabah’s voice. “”Perhaps, my friend, you need a little help.” “Whatever you can do,” Dagnyr agrees. Back on the Silhouette, Axewing and Sybermane both find Deela standing before them. “Hello everyone! How are you? I’m Deela. I’m a Gnoman. I came from that vessel over there.” She indicates the massive explosion. Then Dagnyr is there as well. “This is your work, Dagnyr?” Axewing inquires. “It turned out alright,” Dagnyr confirms, then tells his story. “These Gnoman were in charge of a prison barge?” Axewing asks. “I was the one that fed them,” Deela volunteers brightly. Gryllis appears, a less pleasant newcomer. “Why did you leave?” she demands of Deela. “I didn’t want to get killed!” “You were told not to leave!” “But you could have been blown up!” “Who’s in charge?” Gryllis asks, changing tack. Vanabah shows himself. ”Well, well, well, well. These ones who are so acquainted with us. It is an honour to greet you in the name of our people.” “It seems wrong to make friends of these people,” Gryllis cautions. “We don’t want them hunting them, do we?” Vanabah asks, his voice melodic. “Is there anything to eat? I’m dreadfully hungry,” Deela implores. “These are not the ones to feed us,” Vanabah tells her. “These are the ones in command.” “It is a nautoloid ship,” Gryllis says, pointing to the Scafyre. “Should it not be destroyed?” “What is being done with it?” Vanabah says, also curious. “It’s being returned to its original owner,” Axewing explains. A sailor has crept closer to the odd grouping. “They look like small Draegerans.” Deela laughs, while Gryllis threatens. “Take that back or I’ll slit your throat.” Vanabah calms his fellow Gnoman. “Let us try to be friendly until it is impossible to do so.” He looks at Sybermane. “Now, then, what manner of creature are you?” “I’m an Equinn.” “A most interesting thing to be. So your people know the Gnoman?” “No.” Vanabah shrugs. “We’ll need berths for the four of us.” “If you come with me,” a sailor offers, “I’ll find you suitable accommodations.” Vanabah is dubious. ”I don’t think you’re really in a position of power.” ”I’m just trying to be friendly.” But then the sailor swings his knife backhanded at Axewing’s chest, though he misses. He now transforms into one of the mirrored Bit Sybermane had seen on Shadowjack’s Arcana card. Gryllis throws a knife, which bites into the Bit’s chest. The assassin lunges at Axewing in any case, who responds by grabbing his attacker by the neck, seeking to choke him. Sybermane looks around for the second Bit, and notices Vanabah pointing upward with a tiny pistol. “He’s up there in the sails.” An instant later, Sybermane has his bow out and an arrow nocked, and manifests his white horn, what he is starting to think of a “Horn of Fury.” Moments later, seven arrows are in flight, four of them striking the Bit, who hurtles to the deck. A sailor is also hit by an errant missile, but is caught by rigging when he starts to fall, though his shoulder is dislocated in the process. At this point, Dagnyr sees the Gnoman Penta,
Transcribed by R.Perry
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