A Blood-soaked Legacy
XV
Hasty Escape
(Shard I)
(Shard I)
The tangy smell of blood and the primal scents of murder lingered on the air making its way down the river’s water. Scents and details beyond the ken of mortal senses relayed dark information as they wafted and congealed near the water’s cold surface. As they made their way along in the dark, they were greedily snatched up by the nostrils of Vhoggli as he wadded in the midst of icy, subterranean waters.
The bloody information shot through his synapses lighting up his mind with fear and remorse. He could smell the destruction of the female oracle and the old man. He did not regret the passing of the old man as he had been quite mean and unnecessarily rude to poor Vhoggli. The passing of the young female, however, pained him as she had been more than accommodating to him in the past.
There was another strange scent on the air, something that smelled like blood but was far sweeter. The smell of the thing sent Vhoggli’s senses into a dizzy swirl. There was power in this smell and the only way he could place it was the ichor of some unholy thing.
Vhoggli began paddling harder at the water to put more distance between him and the carnage barking at his back. The new smell must be the stink of Merithault the Mad. His master had warned him before this expedition started to avoid her at all costs. He was going to heed those warnings with every fiber of his strange existence.
He padded over to a rock up ahead that tore through the surface of the water like a jagged tooth. He scrabbled with his soaked leather boots against the rock but found a ledge that he could push himself up on for a moment’s respite. He flopped his cold and soaked body on an outcropping and stared back the way he had come.
His cold, tiny fingers dug beneath his leather armor and underneath layers of his clothing to find a small pouch sewn within. He grabbed an orb the size of a fist and lifted it up to his face. There was no light this far into the deeper caverns for the orb to catch, but with the preternatural sight that Vhoggli had the orb glowed a soft blue. Many of the oracles he lived with believed him to have abilities to see in the dark like a cat or wolf — they were mistaken — his sight was focused on the astral realms more than anything terrestrial.
Vhoggli ran his stubby fingers over the smooth and perfect roundness of the orb. He could feel many little matrices of runes with the tips of his fingers, but he could see the energy dancing within it with his eyes. He took a moment to wax academic at this treasure he now held. An orb of power created almost four millennia before the current age. This was the first and the most powerful of the Nesharite Spheres. This was the most sought out artifact of the Authrakallin Order and one that many of the oracles would murder each other simply to gaze upon.
His clawed fingers seized tightly around the orb as he opened his inner thoughts towards it. He had to know for certain that this wasn’t just a hoax. He could feel the immense energy flowing through it and could taste the ancient power tickling the back of his throat. If this was a forgery, it was one made with powers that were no longer left in this world.
As Vhoggli’s soul reached out and touched the orb immense flashes tore through his disjointed consciousness. Visions of ancient cities deep beneath the world-plane where ancient artificers crafted the pieces of this orb. Visions of Merithault’s visions from Ullthos that drove her insane. Visions of Merithault’s daughter, the one who would inherit her mother’s sin and sacrifice herself to save the world. Visions of eons of carnage, madness, and pain. Finally, he saw the serene visions of old Vhaltenesh as he took it upon himself to bring the oracles back from the ashes.
It was painful and more than he could bear, but he pulled his consciousness back from the orb he clutched in a death-grip between his fingers. This was indeed the first of the spheres and the only one to have all of the truth of the world hidden within. This was the tool that his master needed back in Alsira Thaenat. This was the prize that was worth not only the lives of each member of the expedition to Oerstav Caelii but the life of every human upon the face of the world.
Vhoggli placed the orb back into his pocket and tightened a loop of twine over a small piece of bone to secure it. He patted the orb safely tucked beneath his leathers and reached into another pocket to retrieve yet another ancient treasure. When his hand emerged his fingers held a small metal clasp still holding a torn bit of ancient fabric. The metal glowed with a green flame of energy within it.
Quickly and deftly, Vhoggli drove the sharp pins of the clasp into the palm of his hand. Small rivulets of blood came up from the wound as the clasp drank deeply from it. He lifted the clasp up and placed the pins through the fabric of his shirts beneath his leather jerkin. He tightened small gears with his thumb which mechanically drew the fabric taut and cinched down hard on the pins.
Toulam had told him before he left to keep his eyes open for this particular artifact. Thankfully his master was gifted with scrying and divination enough to know exactly where Merithault had hidden it. Given that it was the robe clasp given to Maenthrai to hid her from her mother, it was easily found beneath the poor oracle’s skull. Vhoggli now hoped that just as it hid the creator of the Nesharite Spheres away from her mother for many years, it would help shield himself from the Mad Oracle’s uncanny abilities. Thus far it had worked as intended.
Vhoggli rolled back into the freezing waters and continued to wade away from the horror that was unfolding behind him. The cold waters were uncomfortable and did drain the energy within him, but they weren’t as dangerous as they would be to a mortal. As fond of the humans, as he had become over his existence, it was moment’s like these that he found it worthwhile to be something entirely other. If he was human, he would have given in to hypothermia and drown a long time ago.
A few moments further and he could reach out with his senses to notice he had come to a dead end. Ahead, the roof of the cavern sloped sharply until it bent beneath the surface of the water. A moment of panic and rage tore through him at the thought that he had reached an unnecessary obstacle. It was only a matter of minutes before Merithault finished with the other expedition members and began to seek the thief of her treasures out.
Vhoggli flopped in the water and gave a kick at the wall ahead of him. He stopped for a moment and remained silent. He re-attuned his senses to seek any other way out of this predicament. Maybe there was the slight sound of wind coming in from somewhere, or bubbling coming up from below the water that he might be able to explore.
As soon as he reached out with his heightened senses, he was blinded and deafened by an explosion of raw elemental energies. An earthen thunder tore through the roof of the caverns around him sounding like the world-god Myrris herself had awoken in an ancient, primordial rage. Small rocks began to pelt down from above causing Vhoggli to drop beneath the surface of the water to shield himself.
Stones and shards of the roof crashed down upon the surface of the water and sunk into the chilled depths below. Vhoggli let himself drop into the depths just as a weighty rock fell on top of him. The impact was lessened by the rock but still hurt him and trapped him beneath its weight. He struggled and kicked against the weight to dislodge it from him. Several kicks and he got himself free. He watched below as the large rock descended into a dark tunnel.
The water around him wavered and rippled with the impacts and the quakes that tore through the whole set of catacombs. He looked up between upraised arms to see massive fissures in the roof above the water. The impacts of stones and shards lessened after a few moments. Willing to risk his safety, Vhoggli dropped his arms and began to kick with his feet towards the surface of the water.
The crest of his oblong head peeked above the frosty water until his eyes could peer into the dark air once again. He kept the rest of his body submerged just in case another quake sent the caverns into chaos once more. He cocked his head to the side to free one of his pointed ears and heard a strange silence in the caverns beyond.
He did not know what caused the quake if it was the wrath of Merithault at having found her treasures missing, the elemental powers of Tyverus who must still be fighting for his life, or some natural occurrence. Whatever had caused it was devastating and had no doubt sealed off most of the passageways that Vhoggli could have used to get back to the surface.
He let those realizations sink in for a moment as he lowered his head and peered downward to at the darkness beneath him. The rocks had continued past him into that darkness, which signaled either tunnels or caverns below. It seemed counter-intuitive to go further down in order to travel upwards, but he would have to explore this as it might be his only way now.
Vhoggli reached up an arm beyond the water and grabbed a jagged rock that had revealed itself in the quake from the sloping wall beside him. He kicked hard against the water and launched himself into the air to hang by another rock slightly higher up. He swung there for a moment, peering around in the darkness around him while reaching into a small, leather satchel hanging from his belt.
It was a merciful thing that his peculiar existence didn’t necessitate for him to breathe like most mortals did. His existence was beyond such concerns as air, food, or most temperature extremes although fire and ice still caused discomfort. Being as he was, a creature born of astral power trapped in a half-dead shell, his only concern was that of essential energy. Specifically, that of the blood of his master. In a situation as dire as this, he needed to sup from that power to keep himself going.
Vhoggli grabbed one of the small vials of blood elixir that his master had prepared for him on this expedition. Toulam had labored hard to prepare extra vials of his blood mixed with distilled magical herbs and enchantments to keep himself going. Usually, it was enough simply to be near his master and quaff some of his immense energy through proximity, but being thousands of miles away, he had to resort to more potent forms of sustenance.
His tiny and clawed fingers seized upon a vial and lifted it up to his face. With a flick of his thumb, he broke the tip of the glass and placed it against his ragged lips. The trickle of blood and power flowed over his tongue and sent his mind dizzy with fire. One gulp and the elixir was fully within him. He tossed the empty vial into the water with an almost silent splash. Within a moment the power of the blood soared throughout his body as it healed and reinvigorated him.
Vhoggli let go of the rock and fell into the water once more. He bobbed on the surface giving one more look back the way he had come. He felt remorse for Tyverus who was either dead or fighting for his life, at this very moment, against insurmountable odds. He would not win, but at least he would go down fighting. Vhoggli had studied the notes that his master had gathered concerning the Mad Oracle and knew well that she was beyond the powers of any mortal to vanquish. Her powers were given to her by some tainted god, to be its avatar of destruction in this world. This was all the more reason for him to get out of this damned place as soon as possible, lest she finds him despite the enchanted clasp he wore.
The bloody information shot through his synapses lighting up his mind with fear and remorse. He could smell the destruction of the female oracle and the old man. He did not regret the passing of the old man as he had been quite mean and unnecessarily rude to poor Vhoggli. The passing of the young female, however, pained him as she had been more than accommodating to him in the past.
There was another strange scent on the air, something that smelled like blood but was far sweeter. The smell of the thing sent Vhoggli’s senses into a dizzy swirl. There was power in this smell and the only way he could place it was the ichor of some unholy thing.
Vhoggli began paddling harder at the water to put more distance between him and the carnage barking at his back. The new smell must be the stink of Merithault the Mad. His master had warned him before this expedition started to avoid her at all costs. He was going to heed those warnings with every fiber of his strange existence.
He padded over to a rock up ahead that tore through the surface of the water like a jagged tooth. He scrabbled with his soaked leather boots against the rock but found a ledge that he could push himself up on for a moment’s respite. He flopped his cold and soaked body on an outcropping and stared back the way he had come.
His cold, tiny fingers dug beneath his leather armor and underneath layers of his clothing to find a small pouch sewn within. He grabbed an orb the size of a fist and lifted it up to his face. There was no light this far into the deeper caverns for the orb to catch, but with the preternatural sight that Vhoggli had the orb glowed a soft blue. Many of the oracles he lived with believed him to have abilities to see in the dark like a cat or wolf — they were mistaken — his sight was focused on the astral realms more than anything terrestrial.
Vhoggli ran his stubby fingers over the smooth and perfect roundness of the orb. He could feel many little matrices of runes with the tips of his fingers, but he could see the energy dancing within it with his eyes. He took a moment to wax academic at this treasure he now held. An orb of power created almost four millennia before the current age. This was the first and the most powerful of the Nesharite Spheres. This was the most sought out artifact of the Authrakallin Order and one that many of the oracles would murder each other simply to gaze upon.
His clawed fingers seized tightly around the orb as he opened his inner thoughts towards it. He had to know for certain that this wasn’t just a hoax. He could feel the immense energy flowing through it and could taste the ancient power tickling the back of his throat. If this was a forgery, it was one made with powers that were no longer left in this world.
As Vhoggli’s soul reached out and touched the orb immense flashes tore through his disjointed consciousness. Visions of ancient cities deep beneath the world-plane where ancient artificers crafted the pieces of this orb. Visions of Merithault’s visions from Ullthos that drove her insane. Visions of Merithault’s daughter, the one who would inherit her mother’s sin and sacrifice herself to save the world. Visions of eons of carnage, madness, and pain. Finally, he saw the serene visions of old Vhaltenesh as he took it upon himself to bring the oracles back from the ashes.
It was painful and more than he could bear, but he pulled his consciousness back from the orb he clutched in a death-grip between his fingers. This was indeed the first of the spheres and the only one to have all of the truth of the world hidden within. This was the tool that his master needed back in Alsira Thaenat. This was the prize that was worth not only the lives of each member of the expedition to Oerstav Caelii but the life of every human upon the face of the world.
Vhoggli placed the orb back into his pocket and tightened a loop of twine over a small piece of bone to secure it. He patted the orb safely tucked beneath his leathers and reached into another pocket to retrieve yet another ancient treasure. When his hand emerged his fingers held a small metal clasp still holding a torn bit of ancient fabric. The metal glowed with a green flame of energy within it.
Quickly and deftly, Vhoggli drove the sharp pins of the clasp into the palm of his hand. Small rivulets of blood came up from the wound as the clasp drank deeply from it. He lifted the clasp up and placed the pins through the fabric of his shirts beneath his leather jerkin. He tightened small gears with his thumb which mechanically drew the fabric taut and cinched down hard on the pins.
Toulam had told him before he left to keep his eyes open for this particular artifact. Thankfully his master was gifted with scrying and divination enough to know exactly where Merithault had hidden it. Given that it was the robe clasp given to Maenthrai to hid her from her mother, it was easily found beneath the poor oracle’s skull. Vhoggli now hoped that just as it hid the creator of the Nesharite Spheres away from her mother for many years, it would help shield himself from the Mad Oracle’s uncanny abilities. Thus far it had worked as intended.
Vhoggli rolled back into the freezing waters and continued to wade away from the horror that was unfolding behind him. The cold waters were uncomfortable and did drain the energy within him, but they weren’t as dangerous as they would be to a mortal. As fond of the humans, as he had become over his existence, it was moment’s like these that he found it worthwhile to be something entirely other. If he was human, he would have given in to hypothermia and drown a long time ago.
A few moments further and he could reach out with his senses to notice he had come to a dead end. Ahead, the roof of the cavern sloped sharply until it bent beneath the surface of the water. A moment of panic and rage tore through him at the thought that he had reached an unnecessary obstacle. It was only a matter of minutes before Merithault finished with the other expedition members and began to seek the thief of her treasures out.
Vhoggli flopped in the water and gave a kick at the wall ahead of him. He stopped for a moment and remained silent. He re-attuned his senses to seek any other way out of this predicament. Maybe there was the slight sound of wind coming in from somewhere, or bubbling coming up from below the water that he might be able to explore.
As soon as he reached out with his heightened senses, he was blinded and deafened by an explosion of raw elemental energies. An earthen thunder tore through the roof of the caverns around him sounding like the world-god Myrris herself had awoken in an ancient, primordial rage. Small rocks began to pelt down from above causing Vhoggli to drop beneath the surface of the water to shield himself.
Stones and shards of the roof crashed down upon the surface of the water and sunk into the chilled depths below. Vhoggli let himself drop into the depths just as a weighty rock fell on top of him. The impact was lessened by the rock but still hurt him and trapped him beneath its weight. He struggled and kicked against the weight to dislodge it from him. Several kicks and he got himself free. He watched below as the large rock descended into a dark tunnel.
The water around him wavered and rippled with the impacts and the quakes that tore through the whole set of catacombs. He looked up between upraised arms to see massive fissures in the roof above the water. The impacts of stones and shards lessened after a few moments. Willing to risk his safety, Vhoggli dropped his arms and began to kick with his feet towards the surface of the water.
The crest of his oblong head peeked above the frosty water until his eyes could peer into the dark air once again. He kept the rest of his body submerged just in case another quake sent the caverns into chaos once more. He cocked his head to the side to free one of his pointed ears and heard a strange silence in the caverns beyond.
He did not know what caused the quake if it was the wrath of Merithault at having found her treasures missing, the elemental powers of Tyverus who must still be fighting for his life, or some natural occurrence. Whatever had caused it was devastating and had no doubt sealed off most of the passageways that Vhoggli could have used to get back to the surface.
He let those realizations sink in for a moment as he lowered his head and peered downward to at the darkness beneath him. The rocks had continued past him into that darkness, which signaled either tunnels or caverns below. It seemed counter-intuitive to go further down in order to travel upwards, but he would have to explore this as it might be his only way now.
Vhoggli reached up an arm beyond the water and grabbed a jagged rock that had revealed itself in the quake from the sloping wall beside him. He kicked hard against the water and launched himself into the air to hang by another rock slightly higher up. He swung there for a moment, peering around in the darkness around him while reaching into a small, leather satchel hanging from his belt.
It was a merciful thing that his peculiar existence didn’t necessitate for him to breathe like most mortals did. His existence was beyond such concerns as air, food, or most temperature extremes although fire and ice still caused discomfort. Being as he was, a creature born of astral power trapped in a half-dead shell, his only concern was that of essential energy. Specifically, that of the blood of his master. In a situation as dire as this, he needed to sup from that power to keep himself going.
Vhoggli grabbed one of the small vials of blood elixir that his master had prepared for him on this expedition. Toulam had labored hard to prepare extra vials of his blood mixed with distilled magical herbs and enchantments to keep himself going. Usually, it was enough simply to be near his master and quaff some of his immense energy through proximity, but being thousands of miles away, he had to resort to more potent forms of sustenance.
His tiny and clawed fingers seized upon a vial and lifted it up to his face. With a flick of his thumb, he broke the tip of the glass and placed it against his ragged lips. The trickle of blood and power flowed over his tongue and sent his mind dizzy with fire. One gulp and the elixir was fully within him. He tossed the empty vial into the water with an almost silent splash. Within a moment the power of the blood soared throughout his body as it healed and reinvigorated him.
Vhoggli let go of the rock and fell into the water once more. He bobbed on the surface giving one more look back the way he had come. He felt remorse for Tyverus who was either dead or fighting for his life, at this very moment, against insurmountable odds. He would not win, but at least he would go down fighting. Vhoggli had studied the notes that his master had gathered concerning the Mad Oracle and knew well that she was beyond the powers of any mortal to vanquish. Her powers were given to her by some tainted god, to be its avatar of destruction in this world. This was all the more reason for him to get out of this damned place as soon as possible, lest she finds him despite the enchanted clasp he wore.
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