Chapter 43ish
November 11th, 2022
Strong arms held him in a tight embrace. "Ha!" Gerb bellowed as he, rather impressively, picked Zechariah up in a strong embrace, balancing on his one good foot. "It's good to see you again Zech."
Zechariah gasped a strangled laugh as he was squeezed by the big man. Being set on the floor once again, he clasped Gerb's arm in greeting. "It's good to see you again Gerb. Or at least I would like to say so. Considering you've gotten yourself tangled up in a game of death, not so much. But hey, we survived
November 13th, 2022
Authors note: 11/11/22 + 11/12/22 was spend writing chapter 29.5. The text I wrote on paper. There is still more to come that I am compiling in chapter 29.5 until chapter numbers can be properly re-worked.
November 13th, 2022
Authors note: 11/11/22 + 11/12/22 was spend writing chapter 29.5. The text I wrote on paper. There is still more to come that I am compiling in chapter 29.5 until chapter numbers can be properly re-worked.
this long I suppose. Considering that I think we'll manage just fine."
"Don't tell me you're nervous Zech?" Gerb asked frowning.
"Of course I'm nervous. Who wouldn't be?" Zechariah answered as he nervously fingered the wand that Lelia had given him.
"At least this guy has a sensible head on his shoulders." Nevakko interjected as he gave a final inspection of his Lieutenant's equipment. Crossbow flexed well, daggers were long and sharp. True daggers. Not these pitiful knives that people often thought were defensive or offensive weapons. These daggers were a foot and a half in length. Six inches hilt, twelve inches long and thing blades with a reinforced spine to be able to withstand the clash of a longsword if necessary.
"Nothing to be scared of." Gerb grumbled his more customary dower predisposition returning in force as he responded to Nevakkoko's comments. Zechariah smiled inwardly, amused by the big man's chronic sourness. "I've seen you fight Zech and you may not be professionally trained but you've got one mean survivor's instinct. You'll do just fine."
"It's less the prospect of a fight and more the idea of participating in a murder that I'm not so sure about. It just doesn't feel right." Zechariah scratched the inside of his left palm with the wand idly in contemplation.
"Feel right?" Gerb asked incredulously.
"I'm with the boy on this one." Nevakko pitched in, "Nothing good comes from murder. I'm still mad at you for convincing Her Ladyship to permit this."
"Didn't you say there's no way 'Her Ladyship' would approve of this?" Gerb questioned mockingly. "She seemed to all but leap at the opportunity in my estimation.
"Considering how easily you seem to take to crime and immorality I'd question everything your 'estimation' tries to calculate." Nevakko retorted.
"Not all of us have had the luxury to sup on the bountiful bosom of nobility." Gerb spat before turning to back to Zechariah. "Besides, no one in the underground is innocent. Think not of it as murder but instead of a meting of justice. He is the one that was largely responsible for populating the Blood Pits after all."
"Wait, he was?" Zechariah asked looking hopeful at the prospect of a resolute stance.
"How do you think I know him?" Gerb asked nodding in affirmation. "He's the Information Broker. The Broker, not a broker. He has dirt on practically everyone in Uthar. Certainly everyone of note. People needed help and connections, he'd hook them up. If they ended up owing too much he'd offer to erase their debts in the Pits. I'm not sure what it's like now but when I was in, that meant a death sentence. Still, people kept on coming..."
"What did he have on you?" Nevakko asked as he strapped on his own gear.
"Nothing important enough for you to hear." Gerb said shooting him a glare, before he saw Zechariah's inquisitive eyes and sighed. "'Nother time Zech."
"I'm glad to hear he's got blood on his hands. Makes the blood on mine seem less hot." Zechariah said as he tucked the wand away and threw up his hood. "Not that that pardons the sins in the eyes of Almaran, but I think he would more approve of the justice than the disapprove of the murder."
"Tsk." Gerb tutted in disgust at the name of the High God. "Ten's damn unlucky."
"You keep saying that, especially whenever someone mentions the Gods." Zechariah said frowning, "Why do you keep saying that?"
"Cause it's true." He said shrugging and turning away.
"Another one for another time huh?" Zechariah asked.
"Yep." Gerb replied.
Nevakko threw on his cloak and raised his hood as his Lieutenant followed suit. "I'm glad your conscience is at peace." Nevakko said going to the door, "Cause we need that magic of yours Zechariah. We can't afford to have you losing concentration on us. We have no idea how many of the Apostles of Death Sott has in his pocket."
"No pressure then huh?" Zechariah laughed tensely before quickly choking off the nervous laugh as no one else found humor in his quip. Gathering himself he followed with, "Don't worry. I've got this." His heart was already racing, adrenaline already flowing through his body. It was the nervous excitement of imminent danger, not the crippling nervousness of self doubt. Despite his nerves, he felt surprisingly sure of himself considering his very temporary crash course in magic Lelia had given him. Yet if Lelia believed that he wasn't ready, she wouldn't have given her approval of his attendance on this mission. The fact that he was there and not in his cell meant that Lelia believed in him, and he found himself determined not to let her down. If slightly for the fear of never getting a second chance at tutoring if he should bungle this up.
"An Impelsor eh?" Gerb asked shaking his head but smiling proudly. "We're going to have to chat about this to when we're through. I knew you were weird but this is impressively weird."
"I'm not technically an Impelsor yet. I've not been approved by the Court Wizard nor undergone the Attuning. Just a temporary gift of magic given by a potion."
"Can I get one?" Gerb asked.
"I don't think so. Apparently Aether kills the large majority of people who infuse it into their bodies." Zechariah said apologetically.
"Wait, how did she know you'd survive then?" Gerb asked frowning before his eyes widened in understanding of Zechariah's hesitance. "That bitch gambled with your life!" He exclaimed
"Hey!" Nevakko snapped as he turned an angry eye to Gerb. "I will not allow you to speak of Her Ladyship in such a way." He pulled open the door to the cool desert air of a seaport city. "Now if you two are done with your 'catching up', I suggest we get underway. We're running out of night."
Zechariah nodded as Gerb rolled his eyes. "Yes, we should be on our way. We'll catch up more later." Zechariah said as Nevakko stepped out into the night.
"Follow me. Remember, we're just drunk seamen on the way to an Inn if anyone stops and questions us," Nevakko said as he handed out small flasks of strong smelling alcohol to flavor their breaths if needed. "Once we get tot he Ziggurat, Gerb will lead the way and draw the attention of the Apostles of Death, we'll follow after in the shadows. Got it?"
"Yes Mother." Gerb said pushing past Nevakko and strutting out of the small and strongly reinforced door of the Manor's walls for servants' use. Nevakkor sneered at Gerb following behind. Figuring that he was the least adept in combat, much less melee, Zechariah followed the Lieutenant and took up the rear.
Fortunately, they had no need for the alcoholic precaution as very few people were out at this hour of the night. Those that drank walked home solemnly in the dark hours of the night, mellowed by the constant reminder's of war. Zechariah had seen a military presence at the gates when he had first come into Uthar, but since the return of the cart of dead soldiers, there had been an increase in patrols across the city. They seemed to be focused on watching for danger rather than harassing citizens so with the Lieutenant and Nevakko talking audibly about 'their last outing to the pubs' the soldiers left them alone. Zechariah mused at the extravagant stories that Nevakko and his Lieutenant told, wondering if they had any kernel of truth to them or not. He doubted that they had actually visited a whorehouse, but wouldn't put it past anyone to pass on a good time if it was offered.
Gerb remained customarily silent throughout their journey through the city, and into the slums. He hobbled along with the aid of his crutch but moved at a fast pace. Though he was usually this quiet, tonight he seemed more tense than usual. He was after all, going to go face and kill the man that had effectively imprisoned him as a gladiator. However, it was also the same man who had protected him and his family even under torture from King Zalud. There was always a solemnness about Gerb, but tonight it was terse, harsh and focused. This was the Gerb that Zechariah had first met in the dunes of the Barrens. Silent, focused and reserved. He had warmed up apparently quite a bit through their journeys to and from Stormridge, and though he had been reserved and focused like this with the bandits, this was something else. Tonight, he walked as though to the gallows, but not as a man condemned, but as a man who was going to do the condemning. There was something unsettling about his focus, and Zechariah understood that this was the man who had killed his whole life. This was the man who had stood in the Blood Pits for revolutions at a time and come out victorious at every battle.
As they neared the Ziggurat, Nevakko and his Lieutenant quieted in their act, and began to fall back into the shadows as Gerb continued on strongly. Zechariah followed suit and hid as he had done earlier that night with Lelia. It was far easier in this section of town. Following Lelia, there had been lanterns and candles all along the streets where the wealthy lived. Here in the dirt and stink of the slums, no one wasted money on frivolities like street lamps. Consequently, Zechariah trod through puddles of piss and feces, discarded rags, rotten planks and furniture that had been carelessly tossed into the streets to rot. The humidity from the Turmolt mixed with the heat of the lands caused a putrid and rapid decomposition of everything that was not carefully maintained. This, however, would suit them well, for they needed to blend into the night and if they stunk with the streets, all the better for remaining stealthy.
They entered the Ziggurat grounds, and Gerb picked up a stone and tossed it at the bell to ring it quietly.
November 18th, 2022
November 18th, 2022
A short while later, a dark robbed figure approached Gerb. They exchanged some softly spoken words, before the figure bowed it's head, and began to lead Gerb up the Ziggurat's outer steps. Gerb hopped up the steps, steadily following the robbed figure who at least had the decency to slow his pace so Gerb could keep up. Nevakko turned to Zechariah and nodded his head towards the steps and, looking carefully to ensure the gated grounds were largely abandoned, they made to follow. Zechariah in turn, let out a long quiet breath. This would be the second most challenging part of this mission. Making it into the depths of the Ziggurat unnoticed. The stairway was wide, allowing for several people to ascend or descend abreast with ease. However, the stairs were long and very steep, easily over three score of steps nearly straight up into the night sky. Worse of all, it was completely exposed.
Nevakko beckoned for his Lieutenant to keep an eye out over their shoulder as they climbed, to make warn them of anyone seeking to climb up the steps. They stuck to the left side of the stairs, ascending in single file, their cloth covered shoes making the barest of whispers as they followed Gerb's loud clonks of his crutch upon each step. Thirty stairs later, and Zechariah was beginning to breath more deeply. Sixty steps after that Zechariah was struggling not to pant and breath hard. He was clearly the most out of shape of the group, having spent a fair time, twice imprisoned, where as Nevakko and his Lieutenant were clearly in much more steady shape. Gerb however, was an admirable heap of determined muscle. His stubbornness and refusal to use the crutch around his day to day life, had not only helped to keep him as fit as before, but more so. He had recovered from his bed rest with surprising speed and indeed, hopping everywhere had built up so much stamina, that he didn't seem to be slowing at all. He certainly wasn't as fast as he might have been with two legs, but his endurance was admirable.
Zechariah had to open his mouth wide, and breath steadily to suck as much air in as he could whilst making as little sound as possible. Nevakko turned back to him briefly, but said nothing as they continued their climb. One hundred and twenty. One hundred and eighty. Two hundred and forty three steps and they came to stand at the top of the Ziggurat. Zechariah was struggling not to be wheezing in raggedy breaths as his heart hammered in his chest, and sweat dripped from his brow. Unthinking, he stood straight, trying to catch is breath, when he paused as he saw the city sprawled out before him in the dim starlit night. Under the purple haze of the stars, the city glowed in gentle light sharply contrasted by sections which were illuminated by lantern and torch. The palace glittered with lights, it's many copper plated domed roofs reflecting the city and casting a soft aura of brilliance outward. The docks were dimly lit, with ships having torches lit and patrols walking too and fro and further out at sea, he could see the armada at anchor, floating flames upon the every stormy sea. The occasional flashes of distant lightning giving brief shape to the sails and hulls of the mighty ships.
Then, something else caught his eye. To his left, Agin of the Turmoilt and high in the sky and many leagues away, there was a glow in the sky. Seemingly like a fallen star, or a meteor afire in the night sky this light shone across the Edgeward mountains far off in the distance and was not moving. It sat there, more still than the sun itself and though bright, was not nearly as luminescent as the actual sun. Yet it was bright enough to be clearly seen at night. "Nevakko." Zechariah whispered, still fighting for his breath. "What's that?" He asked pointing to the light.
Nevakko turned and squinted at the light, cocking his head to the side before nodding to himself. "Ah, if I had to guess, that would be Davil, Capital city of Norgraith."
"Davil?" Zechariah asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "The floating city?"
"I assume so. Still a ways off, but if we are indeed joining forces against the Draconians, gotta be pretty useful to be able to bring most of your nation with you wherever you go to war."
"I thought that was all just a myth. Not, the war, obviously. The floating city. "Gleaming city, deep colored dye, shining brighter than the starry sky."
"Can't say for sure, but nothing else I can think of that would glow like that, and I never seen those mountains glow before. But that doesn't matter right now. Come on, stay focused." Nevakko said gesturing to another flight of stairs. These ones at least, were more shallow in step. Rather than going straight up and down the side of the Ziggurat, these wound down around the inside of the structure. Zechariah stifled a groan for although shallower, circling the structure as they are there would be at least three times as many stairs on their journey out of the temple. Gerb was already half way more than half way down, so they set down to follow after.
Looking over the edge into the upper most room of the Ziggurat, Zechariah saw that it was largely empty. There however some few people, all robed in black like they were, kneeling and praying at the alters whilst some came and went from further in the depths of the temple. Zechariah tugged on Nevakko's sleeve, giving him pause as he looked back questioningly. Zechariah beckoned to the worshipers below, and gestured to pray like the Apostles of Death were. Even those that were not worshiping, walked with black robes and cloaked heads down. Nevakko chewed his lip in brief moment of decision making, before he stood up straight back, wrapped himself in his cloak and kept his head bowed in 'reverence' as he resumed his climb down the steps. Zechariah and the Lieutenant followed suit as the three of them, synced in step, made their way into the bowels of the temple. They reached the bottom of the first floor, and walked passed some priests who spoke not a word. Indeed, the only sounds that could be heard were the prayers of the devout, and the clunk of Gerb's crutch echoing up from further down below. So onwards they went.
The second floor stank, but not of filth, but of strong chemicals. The floors were pristine and shiny black. The entire Ziggurat was made out of a black stone of some kind, and whilst it looked impressive in other areas, here on the second floor, it positively shone with how polished the stone was. Several black robbed priests labored with buckets of the strong scented stuff as they scrubbed the sacrificial alters and blood stained floors. They scrubbed and scrubbed and would not stop until the areas which flowed with blood were pristine clean, shining with the dim light of only a few torches. The sheer reflective sheen of the dark stone seemed almost bright. Had it not been for the black stone, had it been white marble, it would have been blindingly brilliant. Here again, not one made to stop their steady descent.
They passed into the third floor, but saw not an open room as they had in the two floors above, but rather the stairwell was tight and wound down in a corridor of stone. Every now and then a door was set into the wall on the left as they continued their descent. Glancing briefly into one open door as they passed, Zechariah could see halls of doors, and made to conclude that this was where the priests resided. He supposed they must have some system for disposing of human waste as it stunk not one bit, save for the constant smell of chemicals. Onwards yet they went until Nevakko stopped at the corner of the last turn of the third floor. Peeking around the corner, Zechariah saw that the figure leading Gerb had stopped and they were in silent conversation. The figure reached out and began to pat Gerb down. Gerb stood there, arms stretched out as the Priest ran his hands all over Gerb's body, searching for hidden weapons. Finding none, the figure bowed low, and then turned towards the trailing team. Nevakko quickly pushed them back up the stairs, pointing sharply to the nearest door. Having few other choices, and not wanting to seem out of place as best they could, they hurried back up the stairs to the nearest door, and opened it quietly, stepping in with heads bowed as before.
It was perfectly dark in here, all the members of this floor seemingly already asleep. Zechariah didn't know what to do, and looked for a place to hide, but could see none in the complete darkness. They couldn't light a torch, and they couldn't afford to stumble around in the darkness of an unfamiliar place. The footsteps of the guide sounded closer and closer, and Nevakko quietly pulled Zechariah to the side behind where the door would swing inwards, and shut the door quietly, locking themselves in complete darkness. Zechariah's heart pounded in his ears as he listened carefully for each step that the figure made. He was sure he could hear Nevakko's pulse as well. The steps approached, then stopped just outside the door. There was the longest brief moment that Zechariah could recall, before the latch of the door clicked and the door swung inwards, blocking the tailing team behind. In stepped the figure, shrouded in black, who then turned and closed the door, casting them into complete darkness once more. There was silence. They stood, frozen in place, listening with every ounce of attention they could muster. They heard a quiet sigh, and then soft foot falls as the figure walked down the central hall. They still remained still, listening intently until they heard another door open up, to be shortly shut closed once again.
Zechariah released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, and Nevakko quietly opened the door, and they all slid out shutting the door carefully behind them. The quickly made to catch up with Gerb, and descended to the fourth floor. Here, the structure was very similar to the third, but the doorways were open arches. Rows upon rows of urns and sarcophagi lined these halls, and they passed them quickly as they silently made to catch up to Gerb. Finally, after five more floors, they reached the bottom, where the stairwell ended in a long hall. It had two small candelabras attached to the walls on either side of a great black curtain. Gerb stood in front of the curtain, perfectly still. They waited in the shadows, watching Gerb as he remained still for some time. Zechariah wondered what he was doing, before he saw the tense shoulders, his free hand flexing into an open, then closed fist again and again. He was preparing himself. He was readying himself for the battle at hand.
Gerb must have heard something, for suddenly he stood straight, and relaxed his fist, as the curtain was abruptly thrown wide. Two black clad figures held the curtain open, as they gestured Gerb inside.
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