Skaldt Tales: Leiros - Look Closer
Night – Hour of Hexulat’s Crowning
8th Day of Vaekhor
1,702 Years Post-Cataclysm – Traditional Year
Year of the Oath-breaking
The Sixth and Final Age of Humanity
Auhl-Keignfel Stohll (Old King Stohll)
Whendanil Vethol (The Whendan Mesas)
* 8 miles West of Alsira Thaenat (The City of Veils)
* 37 miles North of Haaken Vaulthaen (Gullcrest City)
Vhestar Jolash Thetav (Western Jolash Plateau)
The Border of the Alsi-Kavi Tribal Lands and Haakuenth Lands
Lands of the Hoelatha People
The room he occupied was nearly dark, as the light from his candles was beginning to gutter. The candles themselves could no longer be called such, as they were now nothing more than stalagmites of melted wax curving around the workspace of his desk. He gazed up at them for a brief moment, getting lost in their details. They reminded him of a jagged mountain range in miniature with rivers of slowly cooling clear mallow cascading down to pool on the wood surface. The last two lit wicks in front of him were beginning to flicker as they approached the clear lakes of mallow that would soon drown them out.
He pushed the parchment that was directly in front of him off to the right, turning his attentions to another parchment with an elaborately inked diagram of power. He traced his eyes around the the edge of a circle, reading the incantation notes scrawled in fine graphite. He could only gather a few of the ancient Morthavi words when he found himself feeling dizzy for a split second. It felt like he was beginning to shake or shudder out of his body, his senses growing distant, and then he came forward again. He desperately needed sleep, but he absolutely had to get this information crammed into his mind.
He let his head slump down into his left hand, using the support of his arm to hold its increasingly growing weight. There were still a few more than a dozen parchment leaves he had to study. He knew that one of the older masters would press him on this information during the next day. Master Illenos, especially, as she always had a knack for knowing when he hadn't studied enough information before-hand. She was exceedingly adept at the strange powers and the advanced perception of the Authrakallin, but instead of using those powers to assist others as the Order was meant to, it seemed like she used her powers just to figure out when it was best to remind Leiros that he didn't belong there.
Leiros gave a long sigh and absent-mindedly shoved the other parchment off to his right. He looked up, over his desk to the dancing shadows that were growing throughout his room. Most of the area was obscured in darkness, but straight ahead he could see the tattered red cloth that was hung over the doorway to his private quarters. Below the threadbare edge of the cloth he saw that the stone floor of the hallway outside was completely engulfed in darkness. It would seem that no other members of the Order were up and around at this time, probably all of them were peacefully asleep, lost in their own dreams.
Between the doorway and his desk was an open space, the rock floor was covered by several strewn-about rugs and furs to help insulate the area. Most members of the Order kept their rooms almost empty, as if they exalted in the bare rock of the great mesa they lived within. Leiros was one of the few exceptions, he had grown up in relative luxury during his formative years, and he wished to replicate what little he could of that lifestyle while he stayed here. His was one of the few rooms with a desk, with shelves filled to the brim with parchments, scrolls and books. Behind him and to his right, instead of a rock slab covered with dried grass, his bed was an actual wooden frame with a fine authroc-down matress. He had even managed to commission an artist in nearby Alsira Thaenat to make him a few paintings that he hung on the rock-hewn walls to liven them up a bit. This space was his sanctuary and he'd be damned to the depths of Gehemol if he was going to live for a single night like a pauper.
He returned his eyes to his desk just as the last two wicks died out in tandem. The entire room was quickly plunged into darkness. He gave out a half-hearted curse under his breath and pushed his chair away from his desk. The baser parts of his mind cried out for him to clamor in the dark over to his bed and retire to the blissful rest of sleep, but the higher parts of himself vehemently refused to.
He crept through the dark off to his left, carefully counting the steps and feeling along the edge of his wooden desk until he met with the rock wall framing the limits of the room and then turning slightly to the left. He tapped the wall lightly with the fingers of his right hand, inching along with small steps further to his left. He reached out with his left hand at the exact time that the tips of his fingers would touch the wood of a small cabinet.
He had memorized the exact details of his room in the dark and although he could perform a ritual to enhance his senses -- to summon light from the air itself, or push his ephemeral self out of his physcial shell into the shadowed realm beyond so as to see around him beyond the limitations of light -- he chose not to. He preferred to be subtle with the arts he had learned over his life, both to conserve his energies, but also as a form of deception to others. Something he learned, again, living the life he had when he was younger in the courts and intrigues of Morrthal City. His grandfather had taught him well that those with any sort of power should never flaunt it, lest those who envy such powers seek to destroy them.
He knelt down now, reaching around to the front of his cabinet to pull on a metal ring, opening the top-most shelf. The wood gave a hollow and warm groan as it slid forward and he turned on his feet just a slight bit to reach into the drawer and retrieve two more candles with his right hand, and one sulphur stick with his left. He pushed forward with his knee, closing the cabinet and then turned on his heels. He counted his steps once again with a decent stride. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Soon after this, he felt the pressure of his wooden desk against the front of his left thigh.
Leiros felt around with the toe of his bare right foot, tapping away at the fur beneath him until he found the wooden leg of his studying chair. He curled his toe out, pivoting his foot around the leg and dragging it forward so that he could sit down on it next to his desk. He reached forwards into the dark feeling the sticky wax on the edge of his desk. He found a decent section with the heel of his left hand and stuck one of the candles down into the wax with his right. He reached out again, finding another sutiable area and stuck the other candle down hard.
He leaned back for a moment, pushing some of the remaining loose parchments on his desk off to the right so that his next action wouldn't get any ash on them. He held up the sulphur stick he still had in his left hand, and rummaged for a moment with his right to find the piece of flint on the edge of his desk. He found the flint after a moment, came back and struck at the stick to alight it. That is when he was startled so badly, he almost fell backward out of his chair.
As the stick lit up, casting a soft and flickering orange glow in front of him, he was taken aback by the hunched and looming figure, standing just a few inches in front of his desk. In a split second, Leiros' imagination ran away with him and he believed that the figure was a cloaked reaper sent by Olthenna to capture his soul. As the first flash of light settled into continuous flickering and his eyes had a moment to adjust, he took in the familiar details of Grandmaster Toulam's tattered and drawn cloak.
The elder member of the order stood as if he were a statue, his head cast down and mostly covered by the aged cloth draped over him. Only the sharp tip of his chin, covered in white stubble could be seen within the shadows of his hood. His cloak was a faded light grey, looking like fog or mist draped loosely over his form. A few faded embroiderings of gold and crimson around his hood, deep sleeves, and sections of his front were the only designs that broke the uniformity of the grey. His hands were held before him, folded up beneath heavy wrinkles of cloth as if hidden in deep pockets. He continued to stand there, motion-less, word-less and heed-less of his surroundings.
"Grandmaster Toulam." Leiros muttered the words as if consoling himself that the old man was indeed before him, rather than some shadowy illusion that might strike out at him at any moment. "Did you get lost in the dark, or do you have need of me?"
The wizened figure remained unmoving, not a single piece of fabric jostled, and what few bits of his body could be seen remained frozen like pale marble. Leiros' mind began to wander, wondering if perhaps the exhaustion had finally taken hold of him and he was dreaming all of this. He shook his head quickly, feeling the disorientation and tiredness pulling at his consciousness again. No, he was still awake. He continued to stare at the figure for two more moments and leaning forward slightly to see if he could look under the front rim of the old man's hood to see his eyes beneath.
Pain shot through the the index finger and thumb of Leiros' left hand. He had completely forgotten about the lighting stick which had provided the dim illumination in the room. It had burned down to the section he had his fingers around. He instinctively dropped the stick and began waving the heat from his fingers. The light went out and the eagerly awaiting shadows cascaded forth out of the very rock, hungry to devour the light.
Leiros continued to wave and click his fingertips to disperse the heat and pain. He continued to look forward into the darkness awaiting some sound or sign of the old man's movements. As soon as the pain faded he heard a very slight rustle of fabric from before him and a rush of breeze that carried barely audible, whispered words of ancient power. Before him, the two candles that he had set upon his desk began to flicker to life. It was a slow flame, but as the energy in the room spun and twisted around the wicks, coalescing into a proper flame, the wicks soon blazed forth with full light.
Leiros looked forward and upward to see Grandmaster Toulam with a single bare hand revealed from his clothing and curled with age as he held the limb forth. Small sparks of orange, yellow and redish light glinted like light off of snow above his upturned palm. The light remained for the briefest of moments and then quickly ceased once the candles were lit. The hood had lifted, showing just enough of the old man's face to reveal the faded white-blue of his cataract-filled eyes.
"You squander the gifts given to you by Nesharr, young one." The old man's voice was soft, steady and slow. Each word moved out of him and into the air like the rustling of leaves of a single tree in a very slow breeze. "Sometimes I wonder..." His voice trailed off for a moment as he turned on his feet, facing to the right wall of Leiros' room. "...Is your hesitance to use your gifts that we've taught you, because you weren't paying attention and didn't learn them, or because you're just too afraid of your own greatness."
Leiros gave a very quick chuckle. The old man could never pay a compliment in the absolute. He wanted his students to constantly doubt themselves. He felt that this was the only way that such gifted people could find humility among the engrossing and commanding powers that the Authrakallin used.
"I've been paying attention, Master." Leiros got up from his desk, taking a single step back from his chair and pushing the chair under the desk with a foot. "I've explained my hesitance before. The way that I grew up..."
The old man took a few jittering steps forward, making his way across the furs and rugs to Leiro's bed. He stopped his stride for just a moment, looking up to Leiros. A single one of his faded eyes looked beneath a fold in the fabric toward him and he interrupted with a shrugging "Pheh!"
Leiros stood silent for a moment, watching the elderly man finish his trek to the bed. He stood almost an entire foot higher than the slouched oracle. He saw Toulam turn to face him, lifting himself slightly to sit upon the bottom edge of the bed. Leiros moved forward, offering his hands up to assist the old man. He had only taken a single step forward when he saw the old man waving his left hand for him to stay back. He could hear a string of curses from Toulam, beneath his breath.
"Ahh!" The old man settled his haunches on the bed, pushing up and downwards with his legs. "This is what a Bretholm-made matress feels like." A thin smile cut through the revealed bottom half of his face. "I always wondered why one of my students would bother with such decadence. Now I understand fully. You bought this to accomodate your training with astral projection and dream-travel. Heh?"
"No, Grandmaster, I'm still a bit behind in those studies." Leiros took a step back and leaned his hip against his desk.
"Oh? This isn't for sleep divination?" The old man continued to smile, bouncing like a small child upon the bed. "Then the only conclusion I can gather, is that my best student is a decadent, soft-backed, lazy, little bitch!" He broke into wheeze-filled laughter as he continued his bouncing.
Leiros raised a hand to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose to stay awake. "Is there a reason you're here, Grandmaster?" He slumped his body slightly on his desk, raising a leg to prop himself against the wood.
The old man ceased his joviality and returned to his serious, statuesque, absence of movement. He let the rim of his hood slump fully over his face again. He slowly rose from the bed to stand on his two feet. He took a single step forward.
"Come with me." He turned and began to walk towards the doorway of the room. Leiros gave a single sigh, ready to draw in breath to retort agains the old man's words but was interrupted by the elder oracle. "Shut your mouth. I don't give a damn about how tired you are, or how behind you are on your studies." He reached the fabric-covered doorway and lifted it up with a hand. "All that theoretical summoning and binding crap that Illenos is wasting your time with can wait. I have secrets to share." He gave a little hop, looking like an impatient child who was in a hurry.
Leiros left the side of his desk, turned around and blew out the candles as he passed by. He turned back towards the doorway, uttering a few words under his breath and began to rub his eyes. He could feel the power that he was drawing from the darkness pooling around them and coldly piercing into his skull. Slowly the lingering darkness took on a foggy substance, fading and parting around him as he continued to stare forward. Greyish-blue and purple shapes began to reveal themselves; the outlines of the furniture and walls of his room. He waited a few moments until the detail and shimmering colors of the dark were sufficient for him to move forward.
"Good." The old man blurted out as he stepped into the hallway. "Nesharr gave you the gifts boy. It's not a sin to use them!"
###
It only took a few minutes for the two seers to make their way to their destination through the labyrinthine tunnels that wound their way within the grand mesa of Auhl-Keignfel Stohll. As they made their way upward towards the fountain chamber, Leiros could see the same glittering sparks of energy pooling around the Grandmaster's hands as he walked up a small flight of stairs and around a bend in the tunnels. As soon as they both made their way into chamber -- with the sound of gurgling waters ahead -- the old man let loose with his energies. Hundreds of half-melted candles that littered around the room erupted into life all at once causing Leiros to shield his eyes. He soon began to quickly disperse the energies he used to see in the dark so that he could see with the eyes of a mortal once again.
As his eyes returned to normal and he looked out in the chamber, he took in the familiar reliefs and chiselled motifs that cromprised the domed roof of the room. Lit by the flickering candlelight, each of the figures above seemed to move. Some were scenes from the history of the Order, others were histories of the ancient times when the powerful Morthavi ruled over the world, and others were merely depictions of gods or fell beasts from myth. The room itself was beautiful in its own strange way, despite the accumulation of melted candles stuffed into alcoves, or stuck to any free surface that would allow. The sound of the gurgling waters in the central fountain was relaxing, reminding Leiros of the small brook that flowed through his family's ancestral lands in the west.
Leiros brought his eyes down to the old man ahead of him, his back turned to his student and with a single drawn arm ending in a pointing finger to a rock slab next to the fountain. The old man silently bade for him to sit down next to where he stood. He didn't say a word and waited patiently for Leiros to follow his command.
"Yes, Grandmaster." Leiros made his way forward ending his stride right next to the old man and then quickly stopping before the rock slab. "I understand this is pressing for you. I wish to learn whatever you wish to impart, but I really must sleep soon."
The old man retracted his arm and then pointed again with a sharp jerk to the slab. "These are matters that go beyond temporal considerations, Leiros. I don't give a damn what your body cries out to you for. These are matters that transcend such petty concerns."
Leiros sat down on the weathered rock, feeling the ages-old indentation of other's shapes that had been subtly worn into the rock over the decades or centuries. He gave a long sigh and crossed his arms. He watched the old man take two long and cautious steps backward until the rock edge of another slab hit him in the back of the legs. He carefully lowered himself down onto the rock with a groan of age.
"If you must continue to be restricted by temporal illusions..." The old man settled on the rock, leaning forward while rubbing his aged and leathery hands together. "Consider this young man. I have waited almost two decades to sit here and tell you these things. The least you can do is wait a few hours before you galavant off into the realm of Ginnithol to rest with wicked Sethos."
"Grandmaster, I've only been with the Order for a decade. I..." Leiros cut in and then was quickly commanded to cease talking by the old man who held a single clawed finger to his ancient lips.
"Don't try that 'old man with a weak memory' crap with me, boy." Toulam shifted on his rock, pivoting to the side slightly to take some strain off of his aged hips. "I know what I meant. We are seers after all, are we not? Ours is to know things that others don't. To know things that others shouldn't. To collect mysteries, secrets and to understand the strands of fate that the gods weave all around us, creating the tapestry that we call reality." The old man reached out a hand to give a slap to one of Leiros' legs.
Leiros gave a single nod and kept his tongue. He kept his mouth shut but pressed out his jaw to bite back a yawn. He pushed his back against the cool edge of the fountain and looked away from the old man for a moment. He turned his head upwards to take in the dancing forms in the roof above him, seeing the headpiece that was directly above the fountain. He took in the dancing form of Nesharr, the god that imparted the divinitory sight to the predecessors of the Authrakallin in ancient times. The exposed form of the god, half made of substance and half made of shadow, stood between the goddesses of life and death. Looming over Nesharr, half hidden in the top-most border of the relief was the insane god Jhulkos plucking threads that led down to the three immortals below. Leiros let his mind wander for a few moments, wondering if perhaps the strands of fate that the Grandmaster spoke of weren't so much in the hands of Nesharr, as they were his twisted and mad brother.
"Hrmph!" The disapproving sound came from the old man who knelt a little closer to Leiros as he sat near the fountain. "You're too young to be so cynical." The old man turned to the side and began to rummage in the folds of his cloak, looking for something. If Leiros had been of any other caste or order, he might have been startled by the uncanny coincidence of the old man guessing at his thoughts. Leiros was an experienced member of the Authrakallin, however, and knew well that the old man indeed had the power to pluck the thoughts out of his mind. There were rules about such things in the Order, but the old man cared not for such restrictions on his abilities.
"Besides..." The old man started again after finding a wooden bowl hidden in some hidden compartment of his clothing. "I know the bastard that made that sculpture." The old man held the bowl out to Leiros who took it. "He was an idiot."
"One doesn't need to be a sage of intellect to be a savant of the soul. A separation between knowledge and wisdom, I suppose." Leiros turned his gaze from the bowl in his hands back to the relief over the fountain. He heard the old man give a snort at this and pressed his words while turning his gaze back to his teacher. "Was it not Vhaltenesh, the precept of our Order that stated..."
"...That truest understanding does not always come from the exercises of the mind, but from the growth of the spirit." The old man finished the words with a sour face. His blinded eyes remained locked upon Leiros'. The old man turned his head and spat openly at the edge of the room. "Don't quote that long-dead sycophant to me. He was an idiot, too."
Leiros leaned forward, clasping the wooden bowl between both of his hands. "Well, we can't all be as wise as you, Grandmaster." He placed the bowl on his lap and leaned back to spread his arms across the rim of the fountain, enjoying the cool stone against his back.
The elder seer sat across from Leiros, one leg crossed over the top of the other, his head tilted slightly to the side as a desert canine might do at an intriguing sound. Leiros knew to empty his mind, just in case the old man might be trying to penetrate his thoughts, again. The old man held his position for a small handful of minutes, waiting for the press of time to grow uncomfortable for the younger man.
"Use the damn bowl. Drink the damn water." The old man blurted out once Leiros had admitted in his mind that he was finally uncomfortable. Toulam held his position on the rock, returning to his statuesque form.
"Grandmaster, surely you don't expect me to partake of the visionary waters at this time of night?" Leiros pulled his back from the edge of the fountain to look at the immobile form of the old man before him. "I'm exhausted. You said, yourself, to get proper visions one must prepare for weeks in advance. Rituals of cleansing, invocations of Nesharr..." Leiros leaned further still, trying to look under the hood of the old man and make eye contact with him, despite the futility of such. "You also stated many times that one was not to partake of these waters while they flowed during the night, lest the blood-light of Celanna might taint them."
The older oracle gave a slightly perceptible shudder beneath his robes. Leiros knew that for one as old and as wise as Toulam was, he remained as impatient as a small child tempted with sweets, when he wanted something of someone and could not get it immediately. The old man did his best to act removed, contemplative or catatonic but what very little of his thoughts that Leiros could sip from his mind, betrayed his pressing curiosity. Leiros had never been as oppressive with invasions of the mind like others in the Order. He admitted to himself that part of the reason was that he was still learning and mastering the art, but compared to most, even his neophyte attempts at telepathy were very subtle. He rather the targets slip up and reveal themselves through clever coaxing and mild inquisition, rather than the forceful piercing that many others seemed to enjoy.
Leiro's father, Kolmarq, had been a member of the filidath, or the law-giver caste. His father before him was a member of the tolshatra, or courtier caste, who had earned his way into society and established Leiros' family in the rich splendors and dangerous politics of Morthal City. It had broken Leiro's father's heart when he learned that his eldest son would not follow in the path that was established by his family for several generations, but would in fact part from it drastically. It was Leiros' responsibility as the eldest son to follow his father's orders, but Leiros chose to pick up the warrior caste's sword and shield rather than the chisel and tablet of the law-givers.
Kolmarq was a stern father, demanding much of his wife, three sons and youngest daughter, but as man who lived by the law and took a strong sense of purpose from the traditions of Hoelatha culture, he could not fight against what Leiro's soul had chosen for itself. Leiro's father knew how adept he had become at the martial arts, and how his father's encouragement had sculpted him into a moral and honorable warrior. Being a crafty manipulator and the son of a courtier, he also knew not to break the young Leiro's will by commanding him against his will, but rather to bend his son's inclinations in such a method as to further the family's prestige. That is when Kolmarq began to craft his son not only into an expert warrior who could serve the family with glory, but also to awaken the gifts of Nesharr that lay within him, so that the family could use his foresight and strange abilities to further their own ambitions.
Leiros knew he was different from other children from the moment his father sent him off to the vhulkovyr encampments outside of Morthal City. The first thing the vhasul mentor had done was to test him. Leiros had arrived with his father far too young for the Kollishi Thaulp rite of adulthood. The vhasul had taken Leiros' hands in his own, feeling how soft the skin was and scoffing loudly. The vhasul had turned his back to bellow out to the other students who had stopped their morning's activities to gather around this new child who seemed so foreign to their rough sensibilities. The vhasul, a rough man himself, yelled that Leiros' father must be mistaken as the vhulkovyr didn't allow princesses from the Sapphire Lands entrance into their caste. The words bit hard into Leiro's confidence, but not as much as the heckling and jeering from the female students in the vhasul's group, seeing him as even more effeminate than themselves.
Leiros could still remember the taste of the acrid salt of the Morthavis Highlands mixing with the blood on his bottom lip as he bit into it, trying to steel himself from talking out of turn. He waited patiently as the vhasul had his laugh, and the children had their moment to humiliate him. He turned his eyes to his father at that point and saw nothing more than disappointment and silent words upon his lips ready to chide him for not following after his own caste choice. That is when Leiros turned back to the vhasul and challenged him openly. A match to first blood, with nothing more than the long and elegant vhulthant blades that many of the Athul-kavi warriors used. Leiros remembered that he had peppered his challenge with many insults to the vhasul's character, but he could not remember the words he spoke. The insults had worked, as the vhasul had looked with eyes of murder into him and simply waved one of his students to retrieve the blades.
Leiros had not only managed to take first blood in that duel, but he had also managed to take the insolent vhasul's eye as well. Something that the violent and miserable man held against him for the ardous four years that he spent training under him, that is, until his father managed to secure an advancement for him into the Authrakallin Order. Leiros was still a novice with weapons, but what he didn't have with training, he made up for with a strange preternatural ability at anticipating other's reactions. All it took was a single moment of calm, allowing Leiros to stretch the energy at the seat of his soul outward into the world, feeling the strands of fate as each were plucked by the decisions of the combatants. The vibrations of adrenaline carried him through the threads, giving him quickness and power that seemed almost inhuman as he moved. He knew the vhasul's movements before his mind had conveyed them to his muscles. He was able to draw from the vhasul's decades of training despite having received none, himself. He knew the consequences of his actions full moments before the actions could even be created. He didn't need to learn from exercises and rote muscle memory, he just had to be exposed to those who did, and to use every one of their weaknesses against them.
Those who were gifted with the sight of Nesharr were rare among the Hoelatha people, but were also prized. There had always been a tradition of honoring those with the sight of the oracles since the ancient bygone era of the fabled Morthavi, all the way through the once great Hoelatha Empire and now into the descent of the world. There were times in the past that those with the sight and the abilities of the oracles were hunted, and many other cultures who still hunt those of their blood, as well. Thankfully for Leiros, there was an order of oracles that would take him in, the disciples of Vhaltenesh, who had moved the seat of the Authrakallin from the once fabled Oerstav Caelii, the Isle of Oracles, which fell during the Great Cataclysm, to the desert mesas of the Alsi-Kavi people in the southern heartlands of the Hoelatha. Leiros hated deserts, but this place was the closest thing that he could call home.
Leiros lifted the wooden bowl from his lap and set it on the edge of the fountain. As he did so, he let his eyes linger on the form of the old man still seated and unmoving in front of him. He could see a very slight curl at the edge of the man's lips. Toulam was smirking, while no doubt reading the rememberances that had trailed through Leiro's mind in the last few moments. That old bastard loved invading everyone's privacy and using the knowledge he gained in his subtle and veiled schemes.
"Isn't that how you became the Grandmaster of the Order?" Leiros asked idly as he turned his head and looked to the wooden bowl while flicking it with a finger.
"Hrmph?" Toulam played at stupidity. He reached up and stretched for a moment, allowing his brittle bones and rheumatic joints to snap loudly. He lifted one of his legs to rub at his knee and quickly returned to his immobile pose.
"I assume that is precisely why you're pressing me to drink of the waters while being so exhausted." The realization rang through Leiro's mind as he said the words. He managed to sip from some of the thoughts trailing at the topmost layers of his master's mind. "You are here to see and experience the visions that I would have once I drink these waters. You expect something, you old scalten cat."
"I did say I waited two decades for this, did I not?" The Grandmaster rubbed his chin and soured his face for a moment. The tone of his voice trailed off in question for a bit longer than necessary. He was feigning senility, while at the same time using that tone as a prod against his student. Almost like an accustion of the faulty memory of the younger oracle.
"Yeah, yeah." With a sideways motion and a flick of the wrist, Leiros dipped the bowl in the cool waters of the fountain and brought a filled bowl back to the edge. "You also want me tired, so that it's easier to pierce into my mind. You don't want me hiding anything from you."
"You are my prized student, young Leiros." A grin spread across the weathered and white-stubbled chin of the old man that was visible beneath the shadow of his hood. "I don't expect you to hide anything from me at all. Have I not always been forthright with you, these many years?"
"If you count being 'forthright' as being a cryptic old bastard, then yes." Leiros grabbed the edge of the bowl and brought it down to his lap gracefully. "I'll do as you wish, but understand that if these visions don't destroy my mind and my soul as they should do to someone who is not prepared..." He lifted the bowl up with both hands to his chin and then looked back to his mentor. "...Before the the next fest-day, you're allowing me to do this properly. Rituals and all." He lifted the bowl to his lips and then quickly pulled away for a moment. "And, you're increasing my status in the order, so I don't have to put up with Illeno's crap, anymore."
The old man gave a single nod, then remained motionless while Leiros gulped down the entire bowl of water. He didn't say a word while his student, once finished handed the bowl back to him. The old man wiped the moisture from it on his sleeve and set it back in whatever hidden compartment he had first drew it from and sat across from the young man for a few moments more.
"It doesn't taste any different than the glacial run-off of the Alsira River..." Leiros smacked his lips for a moment and leaned back, pushing his knees out for a moment. "Quite cool and refreshing. Maybe I could drink this every day." He gave a chuckle. "So, when are these visions supposed to begin, or am I so advanced in my gifts that I am immune to the waters influence?"
"You'll know when they strike you." The old man gave another grin. He lifted his head just an inch to match his dead, white eyes against Leiros'. "Oh, and it is worth noting at the outset. You really aren't supposed to drink the waters during the night hours, especially when Celanna is full." The grin spread to a wicked smile across the old man's face. "It's fortunate for you that the Queen of Blood is full tonight, gifting the waters with her sanguine venom."
The face of Leiros began to contort. His mouth moving upwards, deforming and stretching beyond the limitations of a human form, still cloaked beneath his hood. The snaggled and yellow teeth in his skull began to grow into razor-sharp fangs. A serpent's tongue flicked between the crevices and gaps in his ever-growing mouth. As his fiendish face split, his jaw opening and unhinging outward, Leiros felt himself falling into the darkness of his maw as the thing that was once his mentor began to cackle fitfully, the haunting sound slowing down into a unearthly howl of a predatory beast.
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It took a few moments for Leiros to catch up with his consciousness. The sensation was the same as waking up from a deep slumber, or a moment where one was unable to breath and blacked-out. Slowly he began to remember who he was, but he could not understand where he was or how he had gotten to whatever sort of dream-like reality he now occupied.
He knew, through a fog that clung heavily throughout his mind that he was not in the normal world he knew in his waking state. This was a world of deepest black. It felt like and looked like an infinite void that stretched on beyond his senses out into an abyss on all sides, yet this place he now occupied felt filled with some sort of cloying and suffocating ethereal substance.
Leiros looked down to his feet, finding himself standing still on a slick and hard surface. At the same time the same surface his bare feet touched was partially submerged in some sort of viscous, dark liquid. The sensation on his feet was oddly warm, while the sensation across his face and body was that of a subtle coolness. Around him, instead of a shadow, was a set of rippling reflections of his form. Each ripple reflected a unique and disjointed view or position of his body. He stood motionless and still, yet some of the reflections he saw at strange angles were of him screaming in pain, or laughing at some silent joke, or running in place from someone or some thing that was chasing him.
He followed the ripples around him, outward to where he would expect the liquid to meet a horizion, but there wasn't one. What he thought was the ground and the sky were one united shade of darkness. He looked back to his feet, lifting one up to look at his bare sole. As he lifted his foot from the liquid below him, he saw what seemed to be deep crimson blood flow from the sole of his foot back to the pool below him. His foot was not stained with the liquid, however, as it seemed to clump and fall away like some mass of organic oils.
He placed his foot down, steadying himself and began to turn around, looking in all directions and seeing nothing more than the eternal darkness that he was now trapped within. In this place he could not discern any sort of up or down, left or right, and he was beginning to panic. He soon became aware of his sense of time and began to wonder if he would be trapped within this realm forever. His mind raced at hazy conclusions that bubbled up within him like air trapped in boiling water. Had he died? Had he lost his mind? Was this some sort of punishment from the gods? Was his previous existence, as removed as it all seemed now, nothing more than a dream?
He moved forward, walking as straight a line as he could in the ceaseless oblivion that existed all around him. His footsteps did not make a single sound. He felt a growing vertigo and anxiety with every step, that he might be lost in this strange place for all time. He reached out and around him with his arms, desperately reaching for any sort of substance that might ground him, but feeling nothing. Not even the sensation of air passing over his arms or through his fingers. He drew his arms back to his body, tightly holding around his abdomen and then reaching his hands up to shield his face. Fear began to build up inside of him. Something was not right; this wasn't supposed to be happening. He froze and stared wildly out into the dark.
"Here you are, beyond any limitations of time or space, and you're already descending into fear." The voice was a feminine whisper over Leiros's left shoulder. He could feel the voice close to his ear, causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. He could almost feel the woman's breath as she leaned in against him. Her voice was both playful and predatory at the same time. Her words sounded like the whispering a lover might do while holding another close in the throes of passion, or as a killer might do while seizing a victim in a darkened street right before the thrust of their blade.
Leiros froze and raised his shoulders slightly. He dared not look over his shoulder toward what might be there. A rush of confusion swept through his mind as to who the voice belonged to and what wisdom they were attempting to impart. A vague recollection bubbled up in his mind that he was within a vision imparted to him from the gods and that he must remember succinctly each bit of information that he was given. He stood motionless and awaiting the visions around him to begin.
"Descending into fear and expecting wisdom to be granted to you without any effort at all. How simpering and coddled." The voice whispered over his right shoulder now, it almost felt like he would feel the brush of lips against his earlobe.
His heart began to beat faster, his breath pitching, and he continued to remain still. He turned his head to the right just a fraction of a degree and could not see anyting from his peripherial vision. He let his arms remain straight at his sides, not knowing if he should react to any threat that might be posed. Memories began to slide into his consciousness of being a small child once again. Of hiding beneath the silk covers of his bed while being startled at the shadows cast by furniture in his bedroom, given life through the dancing of the candle flame. If he was indeed in a vision, he had nothing to fear, yet every bit of his instincts flared to life as if he was trapped in the claws of some dreaded and fell beast.
"I-If y-you are here to impart some wisdom, than do so." He felt his mouth grow dry as the words escaped his lips. "Surely, you have more to impart than comments about my unease." Feeling the goading words coming up gave him a bit more resolve. "If you are so wise, show yourself. Cease this juvenile whispering in my ears and show me something worth my time."
He felt a cold hand with sharp claws over the fingers grab into his left shoulder and pull him around hard. The metallic claws dug in but did not pierce his flesh, the human fingers beneath them were as cold as ice and gripped with the power of inhuman strength. As he reeled around he had to steady himself on the slippery and viscous liquid at his feet. His feet slid but he kept himself standing. He looked to the ground and then upwards to see a figure standing in front of him.
Before him stood a woman that was about the same height as himself and looked to be a few years older. The details of her appearance were almost overwhelming, dazzling and each piece of her form demanded attention. The more that Leiros took in of her with his senses, the more he became transfixed by her.
Her brilliantly blue eyes shone with a strange internal light as well as reflecting shadows that did not exist in this abyssal world she stood in. At the edges of the icy blue was a strange ring of indigo light that seemed to pull away from her eyes in a way that was hard for Leiros to understand. If he looked at her directly, her eyes seemed normal, yet if he looked away, blinked, or her head pivoted slighly, there seemed to be tendrils of some indigo darkness that trailed and spun their way from her eyes and around her head like smoke trapped in water.
Her hair was a mane of white, flowing from her head, over her shoulders and ending in tangled strands at the small of her back. The hair looked fine and straight, yet held a volume to it that no human hair properly had. The hair at her roots and along the sides by her ears seemed to trail out like quills which only softened to hair midway down her shoulders. Each strand was like the color of half-melted snow, white and almost translucent, yet shimmering with trapped colors. The ends of her hair, some draped over he shoulders, the others swaying from behind her back were stained and encrusted with what looked like blood.
The woman's face was angular but not severe, as her chin was sharp yet as Leiros' eyes trailed across her jawline they smoothed into a curved jaw framed by high cheekbones. There were features of her face, beyond anything physical, that made the woman seem predatory and bestial, but her features remained human. As his eyes became accustomed to her, a youthfulness seemed to become more prominent in how he saw her. Her nose was delicate, the skin around her eyes and forehead remained tight, her cheeks were lightly peppered with fading freckels from youth. Her pale lips were full and inviting, and as she looked at him her tongue would flick out for a moment to glide across her teeth and end at one of her pronounced incisors that looked like the fangs of a desert canine.
The skin on the exposed parts of her body was like a fine white jade, pale beyond any shade that Leiros had ever seen while growing up in desert climates. She didn't seem sickly pale, but more of an inhuman lustre, where only the faintest lines of purple or grey would mark veins beneath her flesh. She seemed alive and robust, yet looked like a drained corpse at the same time.
Her neck was slender, yet the sides of it were taut with strong sinews and only the topmost part of her clavicle was visible above the collar of her armor. The armor itself was a complicated thing to behold, on one hand it reminded Leiros of the furs and leather dress that many of the vhulkovyr caste used, yet there were strange metal adornments framing the armor at odd angles.
Around her shoulders was matted and blood-encrusted grey wolf's fur trim, seeming ancient and ill-used over years of constant battle. Sharp and metallic shoulder pauldrons stretched over he shoulders and dwarved her thin and muscular feminine frame beneath their spiked reach. The upper parts of her arms were mixes of half exposed pale skin as well as a mesh of tight leather straps and buckles. Large and bladed elbow protectors reflected light that did not exist off of strange mercurial metals. Each of her hands and wrists were framed with giant, black and metal guantlets. Each of her spindly long fingers peeked out from fingerless leather gloves hidden beneath vast metal claws that covered the topmost parts of her hands. Even unarmed, this woman was no doubt fully capable of killing even the largest of men with her bare hands.
The armor trailed down her abdomen, yet in the segments that exposed her frame beneath, he could see a tattered tunic covering her midriff. Some more sections of pale skin covered by leather straps and some hodge-podge armor held in place with laces or buckles. Her hips were exposed slightly, yet the armor of her legs rose up in metalic spikes that seemed to rise up and around her hips so as to protect them despite. Trailing from below her waist were tattered and threadbare loin-standards that flowed on non-existent breezes, reaching down to her kneecaps. Whatever heraldry of her army that was once emblazoned on her standards had faded with many years to be nothing more than sunbleached grey and faded crimson. Her strong legs were covered with leather straps as well, ending in large boots covered in metal.
The woman continually moved, even as she stood still. Every muscle of her body was tensed and graceful, ready to react at a moment to any threat or circumstance. With each breath she took, her head pivoted like that of an animal, moving and taking in details about her surroundings. When her eyes swept by Leiros' own, he felt an exhilarating chill pass down his spine. He felt himself inexplicably drawn to this woman, both as if he were prey that she was hunting, but also as if he was a paramour drawn in by her exotic and almost inhuman beauty. He felt as if any sense of time had stopped in this place, and he simply wanted to stand there and drink her in. Observe her, find out more about her with each breath she took and every detail, cut or notch in her armor betraying some epic story about her past. He wanted her to open her mouth and reveal all the mysteries of the world to him, and to lay bare the intimacy within her. If this was his guide in the realms of the spirit, he was fortunate, indeed.
"Are you done gawking at me?" The woman took a single stride forward and closed the distance between Leiros and herself. She pivoted her head to the side and looked downward to him. Her arms were raised slightly, her shoulders drawn back, and her top lip lifted slightly to reveal her teeth and fangs beneath. Not only were her incisors far larger than any person that Leiros had ever seen in his short travels, but it looked as if what few of her teeth in the back were fanged as well. "If you're done looking me over, I actually do have important things to show you." One of her hands raised up to grasp the fabric of Leiros' hood under his chin.
Leiros reached up with his right hand to grasp the icy-cold and frost-slick metal of the woman's gauntlet. Her grip was tight on his cloak, each one of her long fingers seizing into the fabric. Despite the strength that her grip betrayed, she didn't seize into his flesh, nor lift him from the ground as he was expecting. She simply leaned in close to him, drawing him in with her inhuman eyes and with her breath that felt like evening's frost gently caressing his face.
He didn't have time to stumble out a reply before a strange feeling of vertigo began to sweep over his mind. He felt himself falling to the side and curling inward and downward. There was a vibration against his skin, like the ethereal substances that passed for air in this realm had come to life; crackling with otherworldly energies. As sudden and profound as the sensation was, it soon passed away and stable normalcy returned.
He could feel wind against his clothing and face now, a howling gust of air that made him reach both of his hands up to shield his eyes. The wind carried sharp grains of pale sand, like the constant sandstorms that blew through his home in the Jolash Plateau. He moved his feet to lower himself against the wind once the woman let go of his cloak. He felt the hard chips and pockmarked surface of igneous rock on his bare feet. Oddly, the sharp granules didn't seem to pierce his skin, and neither did the sand sting at his eyes or shred his exposed flesh. His mind couldn't keep up with the conflicting sensations, but he crouched down, drew his hood forward and attempted to shield his eyes, never-the-less.
Leiros turned to his side and saw the woman still standing beside him, she was completely unaffected by the sand, the wind, or the situation they now found themselves in. A bolt of lightning went off some unfathomable distance away and her startling blue eyes lit up with the reflected light. He saw her shift her stance slightly, almost as if the flash of nature's fury gave her a subtle exhiliration. A very slight smile spread across her lips, allowing the tips of her fangs to become visible against the full and pale flesh of her bottom lip. She looked around at the place they were now in and from what Leiros could glean from her reactions, the setting seemed oddly familiar to her.
He turned his gaze from her reluctantly to take in the rest of the scene. Immediately he was struck with familiarity as well, dropping forward to steady himself with his hands on the rock beneath him. He was atop Auhl-Keignfel Stohll, the highest of the Whendan Mesas. He was at the summit of the place he called home, standing no more than a few yards from the circled rocks that he would sit at with other young initiates of the Authrakallin to hear wisdom from the Masters.
He slid his feet and turned all the way around, the wind still tearing and pulling violently at his cloak. His mind reeled at how quickly they had come from some far off realm of visions into the waking world, so close to his home. The land around him was unmistakable, the air had depth to it, although it oddly felt hollow at the same time.
"Why did you bring me here? In a sandstorm, no less." He pushed the side of his hood against his face with his right hand and turned to look at the woman who remained still.
"Because, this is your first step on your journey." She continued to drink in the setting for a moment and then turned her eyes back to Leiros' own. As she did, he felt a cold chill go down his spine, once again. "Not just of your journey, but of those that will follow you along it."
A resounding flash tore through the sky and landed near the edge of the cliffside a few yards away. The heat and energy of the lightning could be felt by both Leiros and his guide. He lifted his hands in reaction and pulled back. She turned her head and seemed to shudder with a release of emotion. Her mouth was open now, the relief of her white teeth playing off of the dark clouds behind her.
"Take this all in, oracle." She didn't turn back to him, she kept her eyes on the cliffside where the lightning had struck. "You have choices to make that will affect far more lives than just your own."
The rocky summit gave a groan and shudder beneath both Leiros' and the woman's feet. It felt like the lightning had struck a section of rock on the cliffside and sent it tumbling down the mesa to explode on the plateau far below. The wind picked up with even more violent gusts and the clouds above began to circle and shift quickly. What could be seen of the sky above looked like the surface of stormy waves from the perspective of a drowning man descending into the depths below.
A few moments went by and Leiros took position behind a rock so as to be able to catch his breath. He looked at the storm going off around the summit of the mesa, and then back to the woman still standing perfectly still like a sentry, looking off to the source of the lightning strike. He did not know why the woman had brought him to this area at this time, as if this were anything other than a vision, being up at this altitude in the middle of such a severe sandstorm would be suicide. He continued to press the side of his hood against his face, both out of habit in keeping the illusory sand from his eyes as well as so to keep his breathing steady as the wind assaulted his nostrils and mouth.
Leiros took one last look to the woman and that is when he saw some movement from out of the corner of his vision. He leaned forward, peeking around the rock and narrowing his eyes so that he could see in the dark past the flurry of sand. It was a single hand pulling up over the rim of the cliffside, followed by another, and then a moment later a crimson-haired head peeking over the rock.
"Who would be so idiotic..." Leiros whispered over his own breath and let his voice trail away on the wind. He looked quickly back to the woman who returned his gaze and smiled broadly. She gave a single nod and then looked back to the form pulling itself over the edge of the cliff.
The woman remained motionless, and Leiros crept forward, hiding behind some rocks of decent size so that he could see the woman pulling herself onto the summit, yet not betray his presence to her. It only took a few moments for the young crimson-haired woman to pull herself up fully and take in the empty expanse around her save for strewn about boulders. From what he could see, she wore old and threadbare clothes, simple leather britches and her hair was wild, caked with sand, blood and sweat. The woman looked old enough to be considered an adult, but based on her dress it was hard for Leiros to determine what caste she belonged to. Given her lean and muscular sort of beauty and the efficiency she seemed to possess at getting on top of the mesa, he assumed she must be of the vhulkovyr caste. Given that she had just climbed the famed Auhl-Keignfel Stohll, however, she must be a supplicant desiring to join the Authrakallin Order.
"She's not here for that reason." The white-haired woman spoke, heedless of whether the younger woman would notice her standing where she was, or follow her voice in the wind. "You needn't hide yourself, either. I am showing you events from the future, young oracle. What is seen to transpire will not be affected by our presence." She turned from watching the scene to gaze directly at Leiros, once again. Whisps of indigo smoke seemed to trail from her eyes as she turned her head. "You are to watch and experience what I have to offer you, and then you must choose your path forwards."
At her words, Leiros trepidatiously raised up from behind the rock. He turned from the white-haired woman to the crimson-haired woman a dozen feet away. He watched the younger woman for a moment to ensure that her behavior didn't change, that she couldn't see him at all. He emerged from behind a rock and took a few steps forward towards the young woman. Every few strides he would stop and look back to the white-haired vision-guide.
"Why would se be so foolish?" Leiros muttered as he neared the woman and lowered himself down to look at her. "There is no one here to greet her. No one to oversee her attempt at the Kollishi Authrak." He looked up to the skies and raised his arms out to his sides. "It's fully night, in a horrendous sandstorm. All the members of the Order are either asleep in their quarters, deep below us, or they are taking shelter. She will die up here. Alone."
The crimson-haired woman leaned forward after surveying the area for a few moments. She pulled forwards, keeping low to the ground and moved towards a houndstooth-shaped rock that stood between the area she had climbed and the headwinds of the storm. She turned and pressed her back against the hard stone, trying to wipe the sand away from her eyes. Blood streamed down her cheeks, both from the sand in her eyes and from the small cuts the sand had already made as it cut into her flesh.
"She has her own reasons for being here. Foolish as they may seem to you." The white-haired woman took a few steps towards Leiros. Every step was graceful and calm, like a predatory cat sneaking up on it's prey. "Sometimes the things that people do in their lives, don't make sense to those who observe it from outside. Yet, as irrational -- or irresponsible -- as they may seem to others, every action or choice may be pivotal to the larger schemes of fate."
Leiros brough his eyes back to the crimson-haired woman. She had taken her threadbare tunic off and was proceeding to wrap the frayed fabric around her head. Once she had made a protective mask from the fabric, she pulled off her leggings and began scoring them with a rock. She was trying to stretch out the clothing she had to cover as much of her body as she could. A noble effort, but one that would not allow her to live, given the high altitudes, searing wind, and flaying sand. She would be stripped to the bone in a matter of hours.
"Are you expecting me to stop a young woman from committing suicide?" He turned to look at his vision-guide standing behind him now. "As you say..." He took a hard gulp of air and tried to swallow. "Actions ripple out and affect fate. Correct? But just as actions can affect others they also cause consequences." He leaned down, almost leaning over the crimson-haired woman's shoulder as she continued to shred the leather of her britches. "Those who would take action, must also bear the responsibility of those actions. They must suffer the consequences. Rational or not."
The crimson-haired woman began to cover herself with the leather straps, pulling them tightly around every inch she could of her body. Wrapping her hands, her abdomen, the sensitive parts of her legs and thights, and her feet so she could continue to walk. Once she was completed, she began to look around her frantically to find any form of shelter she could run to that was more than mere boulders of rock.
"I don't doubt the veracity of what you just said." The vision-guide took a few more steps forward. Lightning went off once again, striking some dead scrub-brush on the other end of the summit. She stopped to enjoy that moment of nature's fury and continued her stride once the thunder had torn through the heavens. "I am not here to debate philosophy with you. I am here to show you events that will affect your life, if you chose to follow the path that has been set out before you. It is still your choice if you wish to follow it or turn from it." She moved away from Leiros and idly walked toward some hewn-rock stairs carved into a small rise near the middle of the summit. "You must look into yourself and make your own choices. Follow your own philosophy. Choose who lives and who dies. As you said, every action ripples out. Every action has consequences."
Leiros' face scrunched up for a moment at the white-haired woman's words. He didn't like having his words turned against him, or for this vision-guide's sense of circular logic. He was a man who was fond of debating, of understanding human nature, of conquering irrationality with rational thought. He was raised to believe that human nature was flawed and must be perfected by civilized behaviors, civilized discourse, and civilized rationality.
"So, I am to bear the burden of other's choices?" He turned away from the crimson-haired woman who scrabbled along the ground, keeping her body low as she moved towards the raised rock near the center of the summit. He too, took stride towards the hewn stairs, surpassing her painful and groping movements. He made his away up to the raised area beyond, looking down to both the white-haired woman as well as the crimson-haired one. "I have sworn myself to the Authrakallin Order. If you are a being of visions, beyond the ken of mere mortals, you should already know this." He turned away from both women and stared off to another rise of rock near the other end of the mesa. "We are oracles. We are observers. We do not mettle with the choices made by others who don't possess our sight. We may guide, we may influence, but we don't interfere. The last oracle who interfered in the lives of others became a ravening lich who slaughters her descendants to this very day. A forsaken and dark reminder of what befalls those who mettle in fate."
Leiros didn't need to draw upon his neophyte abilities at telepathy to realize that the white-haired woman's patience was being tested. All it took was for her to furrow her brow slightly and turn to the side, away from him, staring off into the distance. At this, he began to feel a light sense of anxiety as he realized that none of his oracle powers worked in these visions. If he tried to reach out with his energies, or change the energy inside of himself to activate any abilities, it felt like he was gasping at air, or trying to look out while submerged in some muddy water. The abilities he had were still there, but something or someone was blocking him. Perhaps it was his vision-guide, or perhaps it was simply the nature of the visions he was now trapped within.
"If you will be guiding me through these visions of the future, I will need to know your name." The crimson-haired woman had made it up the stone stairs and was approaching the spot that Leiros now stood. He stepped aside, letting the groping and half-blinded woman past. "Whether you are a god or a mortal, I must know to who I am trusting my fate."
Leiros looked down to the crimson-haired woman for a few moments. With every movement forward, she smeared blood from the many cuts into her flesh across the blowing sands and rock of the summit. The white sand was hungry for her life, drinking in the sanguine humors, and carrying them away on the wind. The winds continued to pick up, the blowing sand glittered in the air, looking and acting like shards of glass. If it were not for the protection that the visions offered to him, he would be sharing the same fate that this young woman was suffering right now. The searing pain, the blindness, and the lack of hope.
"I am neither of those things." The white-haired woman casually walked up the rock-hewn stairs and stood just a few feet from Leiros. "If you are trying to glean my true-name so as to control me, you won't have it." She crossed her arms, the strange metal that covered her leather armor seemed to move as if it were liquid for a moment. "If you wish to know my former name, before I became what I am at this moment, I cannot provide such knowledge. I lost my name when I shrugged off my mortal coil and became what you see before you." Leiros had to take a step back as he beheld great, inky, and smoke-like wings lifting and unfurling from the woman's back. The wings snapped out to their full breadth. The woman's wingspan was larger than any of the great authrocs that Leiros had trained with. Larger than three grown men laying down, end to end, for each wing.
Leiros felt his mouth open wide for a few moments, sand began to pull the moisture from his tongue and he quickly spit it out and closed his jaws. He watched as the wind seemed to pull at the inky smoke of the woman's outstretched wings, yet they remained still like some organic shadow. He had never seen or heard of such features on human form before. Some creature that was part bird and part human, yet was neither.
"If you must refer to me by a name, than I must give my title. I must tell you what I have become." The woman's eyes lit up with a strange icy fire. The indigo tendrils that were only the vague hints of light now took on the same smoky haze that her wings had. The tendrils curled upward, around her head, into some sort of backward-pointing horns, or a half halo. "You may call me Zerranistra. For this is what I have become."
"I know that word..." Leiros took a step closer to the white-haired woman. He looked her from toe to head and then stared deeply into her eyes. "That's an ancient Morthavi term. Truly ancient. From a prophecy that came from the first oracles of the Oerstav Caelii before Merithault destroyed the entire island." He paused, feeling his forehead furrow and his jaw tighten. "It is said, that when the final age of humanity will come to pass -- when the world-mother shall die and be devoured by darkness -- the half-immortal known as the Zerranistra will cause havoc throughout the world. That word, it roughly means 'the Destroyer.'"
Leiros pulled away from the woman, raising a hand to his face to tug on the bridge of his nose. He took a few steps away and walked toward the crimson-haired woman still making her way across the sand-strewn rocks of the risen-up plateau. He crouched down, near to the younger woman. Her struggles were getting worse. All of the exposed flesh of her body was raw and seeping with blood. Every action was belabored and painful. He felt sorry for her, that she would have to endure this horrible kind of death, even if it was caused by her own folly.
"It shouldn't come as a surprise if I don't trust you, then is it?" He turned his head and looked back to the woman who claimed to be the destroyer of the world. "If you are some malignant spectre, sent to destroy all things, then I shouldn't trust anything that you show me or say to me."
The woman's wings dispersed on the wind; the inky shadows being torn apart by the shards of sand. She took a few more steps towards Leiros and placed a hand on his back, as he remained crouched beside the suffering young woman. He looked up to her, wishing he could call upon the powers of his sight -- or of his telepathy -- so that he might be able to pierce into her soul. He had to correct himself. If she still had a soul and know for certain if he could trust her.
"I am not here to decieve you. If I were to do so, why would I reveal myself to you as I have. Why would I allow you the free will to make your own choices." Zerranistra stopped her walking and knelt down beside the suffering form of the young woman. She leaned down, reaching out with one of her hands towards the crimson-haired stranger. Her face seemed pained, filled with regret, and with longing. She pulled her hand back quickly and looked up to Leiros. "I was once mortal, the same as you are now. The same as this young and foolish girl is, before you. I made mistakes. I suffered my consequences. I was burdened with the irrational choices that others made, and that I must endure." She lifted herself up, standing over Leiros now. "I suppose you could say that because of my folly, I chose to become this thing you see before you. This being the culmination of my mistakes. The consequence of my actions. But, I did not wish to become Zerranistra."
Leiros looked up to her, holding eyes with her for a moment. He didn't feel a cold chill down his spine this time, he only felt a sickening sort of pity for the woman standing above him. He looked back to the crimson-haired woman who had paused her movements and began to slowly sob to herself. The pain she was enduring must be unbearable. The fear inside of her must be clawing away at whatever resolve or courage she had used to climb this far. The situation began to pull at Leiro's heart as he realized she had succeeded at her Kollishi Authrak. Such a thing should be a joyous time for a supplicant who wished to join the Authrakallin. There should be masters here to greet her and begin her training, offering her refreshments and tending to her wounds. Yet, here she was, alone, suffering and about to die.
"You are like Merithault, then." Leiros reached out to the young woman before him, wanting to comfort her. Wanting to use what little powers of healing and regeneration he had learned in his studies to ease her pain. His hand went right through the bloodied woman. "You may have chosen your fate, but you are cursed by folly not by maliciousness." He looked up to Zerranistra, once again. "Assuming I do trust you and what you wish to impart to me. How do I know you won't condemn me to that same folly, but for myself?"
"You still have free will, young oracle." The woman reached out a guantlet-clad hand toward the head of the crimson-haired woman. She passed her hand across the trailing bits of the woman's exposed head. Her eyes reflected the brilliant red color of the hair like mirrors. "Perhaps my involvement in your path isn't to corrupt you to folly. Rather, to help you avoid it." She crushed her fingers into a tight fist, pulling back from the hair of the young woman. Her top lip snarled and her fangs flashed in the darkness. Something in seeing the young woman up close brought out the predatory and inhuman rage within her. "Maybe it is up to you to prevent the folly that gives rise to me. To save the world from what I will eventually become."
"So be it." Leiros' voice was firm, now. He had made his decison to trust what this entity wished to impart to him. He must trust his own self, his own abilities to see through deceptions, and his own abilities to change whatever darkness awaited this world in the future. "I will see, hear, and understand what you have to show me, Zerranistra." He stood up, pushing his hands against his knees to steady himself against the wind. He could feel the storm tugging at his cloak even harder than before.
Both Leiros and Zerranistra stood over the crimson-haired woman. She had ceased her movements and held her head downward towards the rocky ground that was quickly being coated with bloody sand. The woman had given up, she found no succor or shelter. No doubt she had either lost her sight, or was beginning to do so. Her body tensed and then went limp for a few moments. Her body tensed again and she lifted herself into a sitting position.
The crimson-haired woman lifted a bloody hand up to the shredded cloth that covered her face. Shakily and painfully, she pulled the cloth away. Leiros could see streams of blood pouring down from her otherwise blue eyes. Sections of her scalpt had been pulled away by the searing sands as well as most of the freckles from her cheeks. The look on her face was one of resignation along with unfathomable pain. She raised her head up, to look to the skies above.
Leiros understood what the young woman was doing, she was awaiting Olthenna, the goddess of death, to come down and take her suffering away. She had given up on fighting against the winds and the sands. She had given up on the gift that Tolesh had given her; her own mortal coil. Leiros felt pained at this. Although he did not know her and wanted to hold some consternation towards her for her foolish act in climbing the mesa, but he could not hold onto it. He wanted to reach out to the young woman and end her suffering himself. Perhaps a quick snap of the neck, or several dagger slashes across her arteries. Anything but watching her slowly be flayed away by the sand.
The wind sped up and so did the sand, almost as if the world itself was accelerated. He watched, wide-eyed as the work done on her body moved at a frantic pace. Her skin peeling away from muscle, her blood falling away into the sand. The soft tissues falling away, rising like ashes on the wind from a burning tree. The young woman used the last pieces of her body to keep her head aloft up to the clouds above, raising up a single arm to reach in vain towards the cloud-hidden, celestial star-sea above.
Leiros hoped that Olthenna had taken mercy on her and taken her into the shadowed halls of Gehemol for her final judgment. He hoped her soul could find rest and not return to the lands of the living as a thaekkuz revenant for her folly. He watched as the last bits of flesh and gore left her gleaming bones and tough sinews, half covered in piles of sand.
He saw the clouds begin to part above and the first rays of the burning god's light break through to illumate the mesa summit and the sad scene below. As soon as he was able to adjust to the now brilliant light, everything passed again into shadow. He felt vertigo in his mind and body once again as it felt like great winds blew at his back. He thought he was falling backward towards something, but as soon as he was able to feel the sensations and panic, he was stopped once again.
"What would you have done differently?" The voice of Zerranistra called out to him from behind him and to the right. He spun around, feeling the slippery and warm liquid on his feet as he did so. He was back in the abyssal realm, once again.
"I wouldn't have let her die." Leiros called out as he saw the woman behind him. "I wasn't involved in this, however. I did not see myself in that situation, at all."
"Because you did not make yourself a part of it." Zerranistra took a few steps towards him. She let her right foot linger, outstretched in the blood before she continued to step closer. Her arms were crossed over her chest. "Not everything is about you. Very little in this life will ever be handed to you. Sometimes you need to mettle."
Leiros gave a rancorous chortle. "That goes against everything I've been taught while being a member of the Authrakallin. We are here to observe and to guide. I told you this, already." He pulled his hood back to his shoulders. He wanted to reach out and dust the sand off of his cloak, yet there was no sand on him at all.
"You were told not to use your abilities to interfere with the paths of others, yes. I was told such by a member of your order when I as very young. Not yet the being that I am now." She gave a quiet sigh and continued to walk around Leiros. "The reason for this is not use your powers for selfish gain. Not to use your powers to harm others. Not to steal other's free will from them, so as to corrupt and wither the strands of fate. Correct?"
Leiros furrowed his brow in contemplation. He pressed his chin out a bit before speaking. "Yes." He looked away from the woman to gaze into the dark reaches all around him. "I suppose that is true. If you look at the larger concepts and intrinsic ethos of our precepts..." His voice trailed off.
"Don't get lost in fine details." The woman stopped her pacing and dropped her arms to her sides. "There is as much ruination in getting lost following the exactness of rules, as there are in only following the broadest interpretations of them." She tilted her head to the side for a moment, biting down on her bottom lip. "The power of the mind is in interpretation. The power of wisdom comes from knowing when to use it."
"Yes. Yes. I understand." Leiros lifted his right hand up and gestured into the air with his fingers. A position he was taught by his father during proclaimations of court. He wished to let the woman know that he understood and for her not to belabor the point. "I have my own free will. I must make my own decisions, even if they must be made for others. I must temper my actions with wisdom, so as not to violate the free will of others. Yes. I get it."
"Good." The woman neared Leiros. Her chest was pressed against his, and her face pivoted to hold his gaze. She wasn't letting him pull away or look away. "You will save that young girl. Not just once, but many times over the rest of her life. Later in your life, she will save you. When you will falter, she will be your guide. When you in the darkness, she will be your light." She reached up one of her hands and seized Leiros by the jaw. "You won't know it. You will come to hate her. She will come to hate you. But both of you are bound to each other. Once you take that first step on the path, the threads that weave both you and her, will become knotted."
"If I save her, I am damned to endure her?" Leiros' voice was thrown off by the strong and cold hand on his jaw. "If I let her die, I may suffer as she will?" He gave a chuckle, trying to pull his face back from the grip of Zerranistra. "Fine. I'll endure her. So be it."
"Good, it is done." The woman let her hand lower, letting the cold and slender flesh of her fingers slide down to Leiros' throat. "Now there is more to show."
Leiros felt her long and clawed fingers grab onto the sides of his throat with a grip that felt like a vice around his throat. The fingers pushed into his flesh and the space between the woman's fingers and thumb didn't allow his adam's apple to move. He couldn't swallow, and now realized that he couldn't breath as well. The woman lifted him up by the neck as if his entire body didn't weigh more than a single authroc feather.
He reached out to grab at her hand with his own. He pried and pressed with his fingers to find a way to break free. He began to kick his legs from under him, but not even all of his force would make him sway one inch from her grip. She was inhuman, no one he had ever met was this strong. He was a slender man, but he was not the lightest.
"Now it is time for you to know fear." Zerranistra's mouth opened while holding a strange smile. Her teeth were barred, her fangs seemed to grow even sharper and longer. Her eyes were alight again with their indigo tendrils. "It is time for you to feel what it's like to be prey."
Orange and purple dots began to dance around the edges of Leiros' vision. His neck and head felt swollen with blood and ready to pop. He couldn't draw a single breath in. He couldn't access any of his powers to try to thwart the fiendish woman. His arms and legs were beginning to grow numb with each struggle. Feelings of pin-pricks crawled all over his skin.
Then everything went dark.
###
The sensation of the woman's grip around his neck still remained, like a chilled, phantom sensation. His body felt fine, and he soon realized that he could breath once again. He felt the cloak over his body, his hands and feet were free. He could feel a cold and well-polished stone floor beneath him. It was smooth and cool like finely chiselled marble. The only element that was wrong with the situation was that he could not see.
"Are you still there, Zerranistra." Leiros' voice felt shaky and harsh in his throat as he spoke out. He lifted both of his arms to his sides, groping in the dark for a wall or presence of some person or some object.
"Yes." Zerranistra's voice felt very distant and echoed throughout the space that Leiros was in. He couldn't pinpoint what location she might be coming from. "I am, but won't be for much longer."
Leiros tried to activate his powers so that he might see in the dark. He pooled his energies but quickly felt the energy being siphoned away by something or someone. He couldn't concentrate with his higher self, the parts of him that called upon his powers felt disjointed and fuzzy.
"I am just to remain helpless? That doesn't strike me as a source of fear." He gave a chuckle. He took a few light steps to the left, still reaching out with his hand to feel for a wall or support of some kind. "A source of annoyance, yes."
As soon as his hand felt the same kind of cool marble in the form of a wall, his eyes were assaulted with a brilliant light from far-off and forward of his location. The light was traveling towards him, at first like a torchbearer running through a corridor ahead, but later looking like a halo as it got closer. He froze his body and looked as the light rushed towards him.
As the light neared, he saw that did seem to be like a light cast from the middle of a corridor, lighting up a section of the corridor around him as it neared. It was only a few hundred yards away and he began to notice that it was the stone of the corridor itself that became lit. He remained still until the light rushed over him and lit the area around him.
He looked around him, seeing white marble lit up from inside of itself. A flat floor, straight walls, and a flat roof above. Forward and backward were still cast in darkness. The marble itself was white with small specks of cascading gold, and faint veins of green. In his entire life, with all that he had been exposed to during his years with the Order, he had never seen stone that glowed like this before.
"So, what am I supposed to do with this?" He said wryly while looking around and above him. He motioned to one of the walls and felt the previously cool stone feel a great deal warmer.
"You run." Zerranistra's voice echoed throughout the corridor in all directions. "You run like your life depended on it." He could hear her give a cruel sort of laugh. "Because it does."
Leiros was overtaken with confusion. He felt himself draw his eyebrows down and purse his lips. He didn't understand what the fiendish woman meant. He didn't feel any sense of dread. He didn't hear any sound other than her voice in this area.
He looked over his shoulder, pressing his back against the wall of the corridor. He looked behind for a few moments, squinting his eyes while hoping he could make out any sort of shapes in the distance. He gave a shrug and turned his eyes forward to attempt the same. He saw nothing in either direction.
It took a few moments for Leiros to realize that he was clutching an item tightly in his right hand. His grip was so tight, it felt like his fingers were going numb and his knuckles would break through his skin. He looked down to see a curved chukranth dagger in his hand. The curved blade was covered with still-wet blood. His hand was covered with blood as well. He lifted his left hand to see that it was stained even more so, with blood dripping from his fingers.
Disorientation pulled as his mind while a strange feeling of deju vu took hold. He felt like he should be able to draw forth a memory, but that memory would not unfold his mind. He shook his head and began to feel a beating pressure in his ears. The pressure began to build until he felt an internal pop that broke out into yelled words from down the corridor behind him.
"There's the murderer!" The echoing voice was raspy and male. The voice was soon followed by the sounds of leather-clad feet pounding on the stone nearby.
"Draw your swords, lads! Don't let the rabid dog breathe another breath!" Another voice, more authorative and nasally. The pounding footsteps were drawing closer.
Leiros was frozen; he didn't understand what was going on. Who were these men clamoring towards him? What murder was he being accused of? The memories still felt foggy and disorienting in his mind. He knew himself well, he would never take another's life in murder. In self-defense he had maimed others, but he had never taken a life.
"Assassin! Ho! I'll rip you into pieces! Cowardly dog!" Whoever they were, they were almost on top of him. The sounds felt like a wave rushing to him from the darkness of the corridor. He had to move, he had to run.
Leiros dropped the knife, hearing the clatter of metal on stone as it hit the corridor floor beneath him. He wanted to approach the voices as the rational part of him wanted to talk to those that would accuse him of a crime. At the same time, the emotional part of him wanted him to run. The instinctual side was filled with dread far past normal levels of fear and panic. He felt himself push away from the corridor wall and begin a run in the opposite direction of the oncoming voices and footsteps.
The light moved with him as he ran, a slow jog at first that broke out into a full-sprint. He looked over his shoulder to see only darkness behind him. The footsteps, yells and clanging of metal blades continued after him like a roaring wave that might overtake him at any moment. The panicked dread that pulled at his mind and heart ramped up to another level. It felt like his own heart might rip through his chest at any moment.
Leiros threw his weight forward, pumping his legs harder with every yard he ran. He wanted to reach out with his powers to enhance his body to run harder but the same haze and siphoning of his powers drained away at him. He was left with just the powers of his body alone. The powers of this body which he had neglected in his supernal studies over the last few years. A body that was already beginning to wear out from lack of proper oxygen. His legs screamed with pain and his lungs felt like they were on fire.
He continued his run, feeling like the wave of human violence was cresting right at his heels. He could feel hot breath on the back of his neck. The soft breeze of blades slicing through the air behind him. He wanted to give in to it all, be done with the running and finally surrender to the punishment these men demanded of him. His own innocence or condemnation didn't matter anymore to him, he just wanted the chase to end.
Before him he saw an end to the corridor. As he neared it, the marble illuminated just as the walls on his sides continued to do with each step. He slid on his feet across the smooth floor of the corridor. He looked forward and then to the sides frantically. His will was sapped, but the singing adrenaline in his system still told him to run, or if he could not run, to prepare to fight back.
The corridor split, that is why the wall barred his way forward. He looked to his right and beheld another corridor of darkness. He turned quickly to his left where he was taken aback by the sight of Grandmaster Toulam. The old man stood in the middle of the corridor, half obscured by the darkness beyond him. He stood as he usually did, like a still statue, with his hood drawn past the edge of his face. Leiros couldn't see the rest of his body as it was consumed within shadow.
"Grandmaster, please." Leiros' voice was frantic. He had to stop to draw in a wheezing breath. "What have I done? What must I do?"
The old man remained still and unmoving like the very stone of the corridor. Leiros took a step forward, lifting his shoulders up to protect his neck. He expected the men-at-arms to come at him any moment, with blades piercing through the air at him. He raised both of his hands up in dire supplication towards his mentor.
"Toulam, please." Leiros took another step into the darkness around the figure. As he neared he had to pull away quickly. Blood began to run down the face of his mentor. The blood flowed heavily, seeping into the hood of his cloak and spilling down to the embroided cloth of the old man's chest. Leiros took a step back in shock.
The figure of the old man seemed to glide backward, slowly being consumed in darkness. The last visible part of him was his face, which raised up meet the gaze of Leiros. Gaze wouldn't be the proper word, given that as the old man raised his head up, the empty sockets of where his eyes would have been stared like gaping voids into Leiros' own eyes. Blood ran down his face in rivulets as the old man gave a rictus-like grin.
"No, Leiros. You're on your own." The old man's voice echoed through the corridor as he finally fell back into the dark. The last vestiges of his mouth didn't move with the words that were spoken. "You've damned us all. You've betrayed us all. I should never have brought you in..."
Leiros stood in the corridor, dumbfounded, and too panicked to react. He had no clue what his master meant with the words he had spoken. He hadn't betrayed anyone, he hadn't murdered anyone. Why would his own master say such horrible things about him. The man that took him in, the man who was the only mentor that was ever kind to him, in his own way of course.
He turned on his heels and ran in the other direction. Just as he took his first step a sword was thrust through the air at his face. He narrowly pulled back within mere inches of the blade cutting into his flesh. He pushed himself downward and forward, sliding across the stone floor with his weight carrying him under the reach of the thrust blade. He began pumping his legs again as he ran forward into the darkness. This time the light didn't follow along with him. He had to push forward blind.
"Betrayer! Betrayer!" The men shouted in unison from behind him as he ran. The sounds of battering blades was deafening. "Murderer! Murderer!"
Leiros continued to run into the dark, holding his hands ahead of him to steer him between the walls of the corridor as the stone segments seemed to rush by him. He had only just caught his breath earlier and was now already at the point of exhaustion, once again. The pattering of his feet on stone started to take on a wet sound, like the stone itself was coated in blood. He could smell blood permeating into his nostrils and leaving its coppery tastes at the back of his throat.
"You condemned us all to death! You fool!" The voice of Grandmaster Toulam echoed ahead of him in the corridor, as if his grisly spectre floated along in the shadows. "May Olthenna damn you in the darkened depths!"
Leiros' frantically running footsteps started to become a monotonous beat of organic meat slapping against blood-drenched stone. He was getting ready to surrender once again. Perhaps the mob behind him might give him a clean death with their blades.
Ahead a light became visible, only slightly brighter than the rest of the darkness but it was enough to give Leiros another burst of energy. A few minutes more of hard sprinting, he had to slow his pace as he realized that the dim light ahead was that of a starry night's sky. He approached the edge of the corridor, which dropped off sharply. He could feel wind whistling from behind him out into the star-lit void.
He leaned forward holding his hand against the marble wall of the corridor for any kind of meager leverage. He looked downwards and could only see the sea of stars continuing on for as far as his eyes could see. Above him and on all sides was the same.
The clamoring of weapons and the rush of footsteps was growing closer. There were a few unintelligable shouts from the justice-craven warriors behind him. He had to make a choice fast, to jump into the unknown or to face a sure death at the ends of the blades those men threatened him with.
He ran through the whole situation in his head. All these people claimed he had done something wrong; claimed he had betrayed them, murdered someone. He could not remember what he had done, surely he wasn't guilty of such a mortal crime. He had always followed the Order's rules and laws to the very letter. He had never taken a life and he never would.
The unknown before him was a scary possiblity, who knew what pains, death or horror lurked beyond this gaping doorway into the celestial void. The prospect of being quartered by crazed men wasn't a very good prospect either. He wouldn't get an honest trial for his crimes, he wouldn't know what had happened, and those he might have hurt wouldn't see proper justice.
Leiros looked from the void back to the violent darkness behind him. He held his breath for a moment and suddenly becoming ever more aware of the sensations his body was giving to him. The cool feeling of the dark marble under his hand and his feet. The feeling of the well-worn cloak draped over his body. The feeling of cool air rushing in and out of his lungs. He turned back to the void, taking a single step forward and calmly falling over the edge.
###
The fall had felt like an unending travail that had cost Leiros hours or days of his time, yet when he looked back upon it in hindsight, he realized it had only been mere moments. His feet were firmly planted, if one could use such a description in a realm of the mind, on the slick surface coated with oily blood, once again. He stood in the endless abyss, staring out at the woman known as Zerranistra for some time before she finally opened her mouth to speak to him.
"You rather choose the unknown than suffer the known, if cruel, fate that others would have of you." She looked Leiros in the eye. Her words where rhetorical, yet she held her gaze as if she expected a confimration from him. He provided one with a single nod. "Good. There may be hope for your continued survival, yet."
"Was it necessary to choke the living life out of me?" Leiros crossed his arms and remained a few steps from the white-haired woman before him.
"Yes, and no." Zerranistra lifted a single one of her white eyebrows up, causing the severe line to bend at a right angle. "Yes, in that I needed you to be afraid. I needed you confused. So that you could fall into the vision and experience what you needed to." She took in a deep breath and a smile began to curl at the sides of her lips. "No, in that I enjoyed it a little bit."
"You, indeed are a fiend, then." Leiros feigned acting morose and broody. He wasn't as shaken up as he wanted her to believe. He wanted to play off of any sort of emotion the woman might have, so that he could know if he could trust her. As he had seen with exercises of telepathy over the years he had worked on his abilities, as well as the intrigues of court that he had learned from his father, he had found that any person that could be touched by empathy and percieve other's emotions could have some measure of trust placed in them. Those who only watched the cues of emotion, and then played off of them were often no more than monsters in human skin. Given that in this realm, with these visions, he was unable to access his abilities, he would have to fall back on the less supernal tactics he had learned from his father.
"A fiend, perhaps. But a fiend that still has blood in its veins. A fiend that still feels the passion of emotion as much as you. Perhaps even moreso." The woman crossed her own arms and began to mimic the same body posture of remorse and moodiness that Leiros was performing. "I am not heartless, if that is what you're getting at. I merely have a different set of desires when it comes to emotion." She smiled and those same fangs glittered in a light that did not exist. "You could say that my palate is more refined."
"Refined to the most blunt of emotions. The most visceral and the depraved. Rather like being jaded. You must go for the most primal. Fear, wrath, and no doubt some elements of lust." Leiros said that last word very trepidatiously. He could handle any of her violent or manipulative outbursts, but he did not want to be trapped in a vision giving in to nothing more than carnal appetites. Although the woman before him did seem to stir those emotions within him far more than any other woman he had met in his short life up to this moment.
"You are entitled to your opinion. Yet, it really does not matter to me one bit." The woman uncrossed her arms and approached Leiros. He flinched at her movements, beginning to wonder what new sorts of horrors she would visit on him. "I am here to perform a purpose. You are right, in that I am here to show you visions of the future. So that you can make the best choices for yourself and for those who will get caught up in your life. I am merely a part of yourself that you haven't exposed yourself to."
She began to walk around Leiros as he remained cross-armed and still in the abyss. She looked him up and down, analyzing every bit of his posture and physique. As she passed around him twice, she stopped and held his eyes from over his left shoulder.
"I am not here to be your plaything. I am not here to titilate you." She pulled her face back and put two freezing hands on his shoulder blades. "I am here to shake you to action, using the tools that I have at my disposal. Your fear, your uncertainty, your curiosity, and your rage." He felt her chill breath on the back of his neck as she moved her face to his right side. "Let's see if you can start to confront those aspects of yourself. You have darkness ahead of you. More than you could ever imagine." She whispered softly in his ear. A chill ran down the side of Leiros' neck to his spine, feeling like her teeth were just a hair's width from biting into his earlobe. "Let's see if you have what it takes to surivive."
He felt her give a hard shove. He felt his legs suddenly be swept from under him as he fell forward. The fall was far longer than the height he stood at in the former abyss of visions. A few moments passed before he felt the cold and clumpy earth of reality strike him in the face, chest and palms of one of his hands.
Searing cold roared through his exposed flesh, especially that of his hands that were now covered in snow. The temperature of the air was far past frigid and what bits of earth he stirred up with his fall were like clumps of muddy-ice. He lifted his head from the snow, looking down an incline towards a darkened realm beyond.
The incline slopped forward for a few hundred yards before coming to some flat land that eventually gave into a frozen lake. The lake itself was immense, trailing from the horizon on one side to the same horizion on his other side. In the middle of that lake, far off at the reaches of his vision was an inclined island. The island itself was huge, and framed in the middle of it were jagged lances of gleaming metal that stretched out into the sky.
The sky itself was a strange hue that Leiros had never seen before. Glimmering and cascading greens played over the sky in a great ring that seemed to stretch around the entire world from far off into the heavens. The light was a mixture of greens, with slight stripes or ribbons of oranges or purples riding like celestial waves throughout. Behind these brilliant lights, the sky was robbed of color, looking like it was covered in starry bruises.
Far off, beginning in the centre of Leiros' vision and stretching around and behind him to his left, he could see a roaring plume of darkness. It reminded him of some of the smoke and ash plumes that some of the still active volcanoes would spew out near the Loch of Flame in the old Morthavi Highlands he used to live in. This spout of ash was far too large to belong to a volcano.
As he began to watch it, almost as if hypnotized by its movements and strange lack of color, he soon realized just how alien this set of clouds was to how he understood such weather phenomena existing. These plumes did not roil and flow outward into the sky like those of volcanoes, mountain fogs, or storms upon the sea. These clouds flowed inward and downward, falling into some great chasm far beyond the horizion to the furthest north. His mind reeled at the notion that began to bubble up at the back of his conscious. The strange clouds he beheld were the roiling Gloom that many explorers called it. He was in the presence of the ultimate void that existed at the furthest north of the world. He beheld the very tips of darkness that was known as the Kytheran Abyss to scholars and those of his Order.
He was very far from home, thrown almost two-thousand miles to the furthest reaches that his people had ever explored. He was abandoned in the searing cold wearing nothing more than the cloak on his back. Bare-foot, bare-handed, bare-faced and exposed to the elements. Yet, as he realized it, just the same as his vision on top of Auhl-Keignfel Stohll, the weather and the cold had a strange sort of hollowness to it. He could feel it all, yet at the same time the worst affects of it all seemed to be denied to him. He would not die from exposure or feel the horrid sting of frost-bite, but the feelings of these things would still tug at his mind and body.
Leiros lifted himself to his feet and immediately began to dust off the snow from his cloak. The feeling of his bare feet in the chill snow was shocking for a moment. Feeling like when he would dip his feet in the ocean waves while riding his father's skiff from Maalute Harbor to the dreary coastal city of Caerna Fhailuggach in Ferrenth. A shocking chill until one's body acclimated to the temperature, or in this case the sensory dissonance of a vision.
Once he was relatively dry and able to take some steps forward down the incline, he returned his eyes to the strange sight that lay before him. The great spires that strangely reflected the light coming down from the Scintilating Crown of the World in the sky. Some of the spires seemed to reach only a few hundred feet into the air while others seemed so high that they tore into a few misty clouds that moved by, falling into the gloom of the furthest north.
One of the most prominent spires, thicker than the rest, stood forked in the sky. Jagged pieces of metal were exposed from shear and slick metal frames on the outside. In the middle of the fork between great cleaves of ice-covered spires was what looked like an immense green gem. It was hard to understand the full scale of the thing while looking at it, as the frigid atmosphere played havoc with Leiros' sense of distance and porportion. Looking at the clouds passing by, and surmising that some of the sparkling reflective surfaces in the metal might be glass panes the size of a normal human, Leiros began to look anew at the spires before him. The great crystal in the middle of the forked tower would have to be the size of Auhl-Keignfel Stohll itself, about a thousand feet from the lowest face to the piercing tip.
Leiros had to use his hand to try and steady himself while looking at the spires ahead. The huge height and width of them, now that he could understand their scale made him dizzy. These things were taller than any mountain he had ever seen, taller than any fortress or citadel tower he had ever read about in the histories of the Order. There was no way that these spires, no doubt far more ancient than anything he had ever heard of, were built by human hands. These things were wholly unnatural and far more complex than any of the mechanical wonders he had heard of in ancient myths and traveler's tales.
This dead and abandoned city of elder things was not of this world. It did not belong in the world that he had read about and studied since he was a child. Was this a palace of some unknown god? Was this a gateway to some other realm that he had never heard of? Was this all some strange image of insanity called up from the furthest depths of his mind like some seething cancer or disease?
Leiros felt his knees buckle and he fell backward into the snow. The more he looked at the towers before him, the jagged spears and blades of gleaming metal, crystal, glass and other materials he could not understand, the more he felt a growing sense of dread spread up through him from the pit of his stomach. This place was not right, it didn't belong, it was unholy and nightmarish. The rational side of his mind was fully split from his emotions, once again. The rational part of him grasped at old myths and stories and tried to understand it as maybe some ancient city from the time of the Morthavi Ascendancy so many thousands of years ago. Perhaps this was a city of sorcerers who used vast magics from the ancient world of Hoelv to sculpt these wonderous things. Yet, his emotional mind took hold deeply and screamed at him to turn and run away. Something called out to him, some melody that only the most animalistic parts of him could hear. It was a cacophonous symphony of murder, played on vile instruments, by inhuman hands.
"The Dread City of Vorrginth." The voice came from his right side. Leiros turned his head quickly and saw the white-haired woman standing in the snow next to him. "You are familiar with what the name Vorrginth means, correct?" She kept her eyes focused on the spires before her, not turning her head towards Leiros at all.
"Y-yes." Leiros soon realized his mouth had gone dry. He swallowed hard and flicked his tongue around in his mouth for a moment. "Vhaltenesh, the primarch of the Authrakallin mentioned it a few times in his teachings. He said that he had gazed upon its spires only once, but that it had left a lasting impression." Leiros tried to push himself back up on his shaking legs. "He said it haunted him. He referred to the visions he had of it as the Vorrgistadt. The road to the ruined city of the Vorr."
"You have now traveled that same road." The woman gave a smirk and several steps forward. Her eyes were alight now. The icy blues were like flames in her eye sockets. Every step she took towards the city seemed to cause her eyes to glow all the more.
"Vorr..." Leiros steadied himself and focused on the misty horizon. He kept his eyes level and refused to look up at the disorienting spires scraping at the stars. He focused on the mists gathering at the base of the city on the furthest horizon. "...Ginnth." He lifted his left hand as a cover between his brow and forhead, preventing him from looking up.
"Yes..." Zerranistra cooed from further ahead. She was heedless and looked up to the spires without any sort of falter in her step.
"That sounds like Ancient Morthavi. I know that Vorrgistadt means the road or the quest to find this strange place. But the actual city name... Sounds like the city of the slumbering. The sleeping ones. Ginth like Ginnithol, the realm of the sleepers that Sethos gifts with dreams." Leiros began a small jog to keep up with the woman.
"There are truths in names. Especially when it comes to words in Morthavi. They knew this world better than most, even though they were not native to this place." The woman continued her stride down the incline and now approached the flatlands closing in on the frozen shores of the great lake.
"Is this where the Vorr dwell, then? Sleeping within the spires?" Leiros felt his curiosity gathering flame inside of him. It was said that only Vhaltenesh had been able to have a vision of this strange city. Now he was able to uncover secrets about it as well. Perhaps his destiny wasn't so bad after all.
"No. In that, this place is mis-named." The woman walked onto the ice of the lake, graceful and without the slightest hesitation to steady her balance. "The Vorr may once have lived here. If you call their existence 'living.' Yet, they remain here no longer. Perhaps they were called back to the place they came from, perhaps they ceased to be."
"Then..." Leiros stopped and looked down to his feet. He felt his face grow sour and his eyebrows lift with concern. "What is this strange feeling I have? This dread clinging not just to my mind, my body, but through to my very soul."
"That is the part of you that is human, recognizing this place as what it is. Not human." The woman slid her feet on the ice and turned around to face Leiros. "That is you feeling the strange energies that keep this place functioning. It is also your soul crying out to you, telling you of what lies beneath these spires, trapped in the darkest of places, waiting to be freed."
"If that thing you speak of is not the Vorr, then what is it?" Leiros' eyes were wide now and his body tensed as he was tempted with new discoveries.
"You don't want to know. Believe me. It is a being of immense power, imprisoned by the Vorr themselves in times so far gone that no human would ever have memory of it. It is a being that seeths with unholy rage at the prison it was cast into." The woman's eyes were hypnotizing with their strange light. The indigo tendrils were again flowing down from her eyes, over her pale cheeks, and trailing into the transculent white of her hair.
"I must know!" Leiros looked to the woman, stretching his right arm out to her while clutching his left in a fist against his stomach. He stood resolute, shaking and wide-eyed.
Zerranistra lifted from the ground, the same inky-smoke wings unfurled around her giving her an impossible flight. The wings were slightly different, more clawed and menaching this time. The tendrils around her eyes curled into the half-halo once again. Her eyes roared with icy flames ripping out from her sockets like her head was a great torch. Her fangs were fully elongated like the needles of a great serpent. Her fingers had snapped and grown outward like vast spindle-like claws tipped with razor-sharp blades. Her feet, no longer clad in metal and leather boots were like the clawed feet of a great dragon or wyvern.
"You..." The woman's voice boomed across the landscape, creating a shattering echo like chilled thunder. "Will..." Her claws unfurled and grasped out around her form in all directions like spider's legs. "Not!" Zerranistra gave an inhuman and piercing howl that began to shake and shatter distant parts of the ice. Several large pieces of ice and snow from the distant spires shook and fell unfathomable distances to crash into the ground of the island ahead.
Leiros clutched at his ears, feeling the warmth of blood trickle from between his fingers. He shut his eyes tightly feeling blood vessels burst around the edges of his eyes and salty fluid drip from his tear ducts and then down over his cheeks. He felt the earth beneath his feet heave and shatter like the ice of the lake before him. The woman's scream seemed to drone on and reach ever higher and more painful levels. He soon felt like the very flesh and bones of his body would shattered or rip off of his body.
Then he was thrown into a sense of calm silence. He cautiously pulled his hands from his ears. He expected to hear the incessant ringing of deafness, yet all he heard was still silence. He opened his eyes, expecting to feel the burning sensation of blood and seeing nothing more than blotchy smears over his vision, yet all he saw was darkness. He let his hands fall down to the ground in front of him and he felt the same warm and thick oil as he felt with his feet in the abyssal realm.
Leiros lifted his eyes from the reflections of himself playing out in the ripples of the slick blood beneath him. He didn't have the heart to get to his feet or look fully upward in case Zerranistra was still standing before him in her wrathful form. He lifted his eyes carefully to look at the feet of the woman before him. She was back on the ground -- such as it was -- and her feet had returned to being those of her leather and metallic boots.
"My apologies for the outburst." Zerranistra said curtly and with a monotone voice. She didn't sound or seem sorry, but she needed to say the words. "I lost control of myself, both because of your own safety and because of my dark attachments to that place."
"You lost control of yourself, 'for my safety.'" Leiros gave a chortle and let his eyes slowly move their way up the woman's form until they met with her eyes. He lifted himself to his feet, lowering his eyes to her neck level for a moment and then returning them. "If you can't control yourself, and you refuse to let me know more about that place, then why show it to me at all?"
"Your fate is drawn there. I can't refuse that. I must show you it and let you know of it." Zerranistra took a few heavy breaths and clenched her fingers into fists. "But I don't have to show you the horrors of that place, just yet." She unfurled her fingers and returned to a state of calm. "You must understand, just as you say that Vhaltenesh did. There are some places that are haunting. There are some places in this world that will shatter your mind if you get to close. There are others that will steal and devour your very soul if you walk into them heedlessly."
"And the Dreaded City of Vorrginth is such a place." Leiros said it more assuredly than that of a question. He wanted to lead the white-haired woman into divulging more information about the place, yet not earn her ire through direct confrontation, again. "I understand. But, if my fate is to go there, I should be prepared, should I not?"
"There is no preparing for what awaits you, or I, or anyone else that goes to that forsaken place." Zerranistra held her right hand out in front of her, curling and uncurling her clawed fingers. It seemed like she was reaching out for a memory, one that both seemed familiar and vexed her at the same time. Her eyes were off in the distance, many miles away. Perhaps she was looking at the spires in her mind.
"Then, I will take what you have shown me as preparation of a kind, none-the-less." Leiros felt a cool confidence and sense of resolve take hold over his voice. "No matter what you say, I am drawn to that place now. I must uncover more. I don't expect you to guide me there again. Obviously, you can't handle it. I will research what I can, I will press forward no matter the cost."
"You are stubborn. I remember being equally such when I was much younger and still had a mortal heart." She gave a cruel laugh. "Fine. Do as you wish. Seek your own folly, if you must. You have been warned."
Leiros gave a nod and smiled. He crossed his arms and spun slowly on his feet in place. As he began to turn away from the white-haired woman, he soon began to get a gnawing sensation at the back of his mind. Perhaps she was tricking him, just like his old mentor loved to do in the waking world. Goading him into things through a kind of reverse-impulse that was all orchestrated to lead him where the other wanted him to be. To take advantage of his curiousity, his stubborn nature.
He shook his head and spun back around to face Zerranistra. Perhaps his doubt was the case, or perhaps she was legitimately scared of the place. None of that mattered, ultimately, as his path was now set to go to the Dreaded City. He would follow the path of Vorgistadt as set out by Vhaltenesh an age before. He would uncover the hidden wonders of that terrible place and do what he could to turn it into a beneficial discovery for all humanity. Surely there must be something of redeeming about the place, some wonder that his people could use to better this dying and decrepit world they were trapped within. Some ancient lore, some ancient artifact, some hidden miracle of the gods, hidden away by an ancient and powerful people that lived on this world before even the Morthavi came here. In all dark and terrible things, there must always be a ray of light and hope.
Zerranistra openly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Your hope will lead to your destruction. Shatter it while you still can. Fool." Leiros began to wonder if it was her that was preventing his abilities, after all. As hard as it was for him to pool and focus his energies, it seemed like this woman was able to pierce into his thoughts just fine, as if she were a member of the Authrakallin herself.
"I learned from one such as yourself, how to do that." Zerranistra shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes once again. "I'm not limiting your potential, young oracle. That is entirely of your own doing. These are your visions, in your mind." She lifted one of her fingers to poke him in the forehead. "If you aren't able to summon your powers, it is because you don't want to do so. Somewhere you realize it won't help you on the journey you have before you."
"Are you telling me not to use my powers then? That they are meaningless in my future?" Leiros squinted his eyes and tightened his brow. "I would trust the Grandmaster of my Order more than a fiendish illusion in a dream. He told me I must use my powers to the fullest in my future. That I need to embrace them more than I have."
"I said no such thing." The woman smiled broadly, letting the tips of her fangs flow over her bottom lip. "You jump at my words like a frightened man at shadows in the dark." She gave a light-hearted chuckle and took one more step forward. "I have no stake in you using your powers or not. In you using them for good or ill. I'm simply stating that some things are beyond your ken and beyond your abilities for now."
Leiros held his tongue for a moment and stared the woman in the eye; a look of challenge, expecting her to slip up somehow. He may not have used his powers as often as he could have, but it was not because he didn't like or trust his abilities. He knew fully well how powerful the rituals, powers and miracles of the Authrakallin were, which is why he sought out tuteledge in the arts of divination. He had seen masters of his Order pull of feats that seemed almost as if the gods themselves had incarnated in flesh and blood to do them. He had heard the tales and histories of those who had performed feats beyond even what was possible now, back when the world still had more magic and mystery in it. Before the corruption of the world as the world-mother Myrris slowly sunk into her own grave. He knew he had such power within him, and it was the abuse of those powers that he feared. That he had the same ability, the same taint, flowing in his heart and mind that would condemn him like Merithault had been condemned, to be a monster of the ages, preying upon those he was meant to protect.
"Fine, then. Embrace your arts. Follow the Path of Haethupex to its final conclusion. To madness, folly, and slaughter." The woman continued that same smile, the tone on her face becoming more sadistic than mirthful with each passing moment. "I'll show you the fate your powers will cause, and that will be my final vision to you."
Leiros gave a nod and remained still. The woman reached up and passed a single one of her cold, clawed, elongated hands over his face. He felt himself falling backward, downward, and into himself. He embraced the vision this time, following after the fiendish woman's will.
###
Leiros opened his eyes to behold a familar, yet starkly alien sight before him. He stood upon the ancient and ruined patchwork tiles of the Elder Circle's counsel chambers on the great cliff jutting out over the city of Alsira Thaenat below. A sight that Leiros had seen several times before while he joined his mentor in games of intrigue, diplomacy, or favor-currying with the old Etharak Jhondd before he died and the temporary leader of Oelvann Molth took his position as acting chieftan. The shelders that many of the Etharalm and Oelvanti used were gone or cast to nothing more than burned out cinders and ash. All of the old and sun-bleached tapestries that hung over the shelters to provide some shade for the dignitaries that used the space were burned away or clinging to charred rock on the cliff-face.
Leiros took a few steps forwards, feeling the still warm ashes on his feet as he looked out over the great canyon-city below. He couldn't recognize it as first, it looked like some ancient site that had fallen to ruin. Then his eyes focused and he could spot the bodies piled up in the streets, with the blood-tinged, glacial river rushing beneath the city. The smell of burnt flesh and blood began to make its way up from the city and choke him.
The city was destroyed. As he let his eyes play over the city below, looking and hoping for some form of life to show itself amidst the flames, the ruins and the carnage, he could not find any. There were no candles burning in windows, no people staggering numbly through the streets, not even a single screech of a desert hawk in the skies above. The city was dead and all those within it had been taken by Olthenna.
"Are you saying that this is my fault?" Leiros steadied himself at the edge of the cliff. A voice in his mind pulled at him and made him want to jump off of it. This was his home, these were the people that took him in and made him welcome. These were the people that he served. "A-are you?" He felt his voice crack and with every breath the smell of the dead broke through his nostrils and clutched at his throat. "A-Are you?!"
"In a way, it is. In a way, it isn't." The voice of Zerranistra came from behind him again, this time a small distance away. Perhaps she anticipated Leiros thrashing out at her in his grief and fury. She was right to do so.
Leiros clutched his hands into fists, driving his fingers into the palms of his hands with so much rage that he could feel blood begin to run. He could feel his powers reaching out, as distorted and confused as they were. Pieces of burned-out wood and small rocks began to throw themselves forwards over the cliff's edge. He could feel his blind rage tainting the powers he was given, turning them from perception to forceful fury.
"Do I become as corrupted as you?" His voice was a whisper, yet at the same time a low scream that seemed to tear at his vocal cords.
"No. You become your own entity. Your own enemy." The woman's voice was further away from behind him, this time. "This fate would happen no matter your choices. Eventually all things must be destroyed. All people must die. All societies must be turn to ash and ruin."
Leiros remained silent and let the rage wash over him. He could feel a shuddering beneath his feet, like a slow rumble that hadn't yet found its voice. He turned on his feet to look at the white-haired woman. She stood a dozen feet off to his left. The look on her face was one of sorrow mixed with concern.
"Sacrifices will be made. Whether you chose to act, or you chose not to. All I can say is that if you chose wisely, some may be spared." Zerranistra began walking towards Leiros, keeping her eyes away and focused on the scene around them.
"No one should have to suffer." Leiros blurted out, clenching his fists even tighter.
"All people suffer. All people die. The point of the matter, is to give their suffering and their deaths meaning." Zerranistra closed the distance and pressed her chest up against Leiros' own once again. "You wouldn't deny them that, would you?"
"No." Leiros turned his head away from the gleaming blue eyes of Zerranistra for a moment. She reached a hand out and led his gaze back to her with a single finger on his chin. "All life is sacred. All souls must have their fate. It is better do die for something than to die a meaningless and empty death."
"Good." Zerranistra leaned in, pressing her icy cheek against Leiros'. "You're beginning to understand." She brought her face back around and continued to speak while her full lips began to brush against Leiros' own. "There may be some hope for us yet."
Leiros felt a stirring from inside of him, more than any sort of attraction he had felt before. He couldn't make sense of it all inside of his mind. He didn't trust the woman, and she was obviously inhuman, but there was something about her that was strangely familiar. He was attracted to her, despite her flaws, despite the blood that clung to the tips of her hair, despite her violence and her fury. He felt his mind split again, but this time between three different forces, not just two. His rational mind was intrigued by her, his instinctual mind was afraid of her, and his emotional mind was drawn to her more than anyone else in the world.
He pushed himself away from her, shoving his hands at the tops of her arms and taking a step back. He needed space, he needed to understand what was going on, and he needed some sort of clarity. There were too many emotions going off in his mind. Too many things that his visions were pulling and demanding of him.
"This is what I have need to show you, young Oracle." The woman took another step and closed the distance again. She swiveled her neck, looking over his shoulder and then back to his eyes. "Your path goes beyond what I have shown you, but this is what you need to begin your journey."
Leiros lifted his hands again, to press against the woman's shoulders and take another step back, but this time she caught his hands and held him still. He looked Zerranistra in the eyes, feeling closer to them than ever before. He saw a whole world in those eyes, flashes of memories he couldn't decipher, emotions he hadn't yet begun to feel, and the threads of fate that were being plucked that somehow tied him to this woman.
"Will we ever meet again?" Leiros gave a sheepish smile, pulling his face back a few inches so he could see her whole face.
"Yes. I may be different than you see now." She returned the smile, but with confidence.
"What do I need to do for that to happen?" Leiros tried to pull his hands back from Zerranistra but her grip remained firm around his fingers and wrists.
"You need to prove yourself worthy of me." Zerranistra leaned in, her lips again brushing his. Her cold breath playing off of Leiros' face, feeling like a chill northern wind.
He didn't have time to reply. His mind ran at something to say, perhaps a quip or jest to lower the tone of the mood, but he never got the chance. Zerranistra's lips pressed against his own and he felt overwhelming energy coursing through is body. It was as if some kind of connection had been made between both of their bodies and both of their essences. He could feel tingles of energy coursing through his lips into his mind, as well as from her hands touching his.
Something felt strangely familiar about it all, like they had known each other since they were born. With a single wave, all trepidation was bled away from Leiros' mind. He reached out and moved his lips in return, feeling Zerranistra's as if she were warm and human, once again. He felt his hand lifting from her shoulder, given freedom, and now he moved to to the side of her face. Her skin felt warm like her blood was pumping and her body was mortal. He felt the warmth from her breath mixing with his own. He felt her hold his other hand to her chest, feeling the skin there. He could feel her heart beating beneath her chest, as each breath she took moved herself up and down beneath his hand.
He had never felt such a connection before, and as he began to lose himself to it, he soon realized that his eyes were closed. He opened them and beheld the blue eyes of Zerranistra. No longer lit by some strange fire within, no longer encircled by strange indigo wisps, but normal mortal eyes that reflected his own in the the tears that coated them. Faint freckles were visible on Zerranistra's cheeks as he pressed in. Leiros looked up, pulling his lips from her's for a moment and seeing crimson-colored locks of hair flowing down and framing her face.
He wanted to look at her before continuing, pulling his face back just an inch, and as soon as he had done so he began to feel a strange sensation on his hand that was brushing her check and moving to the back of her neck. His fingers felt slick with some viscous and warm substance. He pulled his hand back to see his hand covered in blood. He looked back to Zerranistra, her eyes now closed. Her hair was now covered and running with blood which flowed like rivulets down her face and neck. She clasped his loose hand in her own, smearing the blood between his and her fingers and pulling him in against her chest.
She leaned forward and he felt like he could not resist. He didn't feel afraid of her or disgusted at all, but he was concerned for her. He felt a sense of panic that ripped through him, like he might lose her to some disease or malady. She shoved her face into his, her lips locking with his once again. He felt the same energetic charge as before, almost overpowering his mind. He opened his mouth to ask her a question and was greeted by the tip of her tongue. She caressed the peak of his top lip and lightly made her way over his teeth to touch upon his own tongue.
Leiros was caught between a sensation of longing and that of profound dread. His mind was reeling and shaking from one extreme to the other. He didn't want to let go, he didn't want her to feel spurned, but his mind cried out that something was very wrong with this situation. With the blood that now poured over his eyes and face from her scalp.
Just as her tongue began to lightly touch upon the tip of his own, he soon began to notice a strange taste of blood to Zerranistra's breath. The slightest taste became more present and he tried to pull away again. She wouldn't let him, her grip held him in place, her lips were locked against his own. He began to feel pain in his lower lip. Two points of pain as her fangs bit into his flesh and held him even further.
The taste of blood now became a torrent of blood. A mixture of his own as she pierced into his flesh, and a torrent of her blood as she began to cough it up into his mouth. A slight sputtering soon became a torrent as the blood ran into Leiros' mouth and down his throat. He tried to pull back so he could breath, but again she held him with an inhuman grip. The blood began to fill his throat and choke him beneath it. His eyes went wide once more, seeing nothing more than blood all around him. He was drowning in it.
He pressed the last air from his chest to scream, but the blood still flowed, drowning it away into nothing more than a gurgle. His whole body was drenched. He was trapped in a churning tide of gore.
###
Every vein, artery, and capillary in Leiros' skull felt like it would burst at any given moment. He had never felt so queasy or terrible since the time in his youth when he and his cousin had gotten drunk on Thernaki Fire-brandy. It was a day and night of partying at an infamous 'place of ill repute' in one of the coastal cities of the Arid Steppes that his father had been stationed at as envoy for the Hoelatha people. Both young men had filled their time with drink, with song, with the company of many accommodating women, and with the company of many unaccommodating tribal men. When the reddish morning light of Trallt had lit the sky with fire that morning, both Leiros and his cousin were found in puddles of their own vomit, spittle, blood and effluvia. It was the first and last time that Leiros gave in to his carnal appetites. He remembered never to feel like that again in his life.
He opened his eyes into the harsh flickering light of the fountain room. His vision was still bleary between tears and the accumulated sleep leavings of Sethos. He leaned forward, placing his face in his hands, and pushing his back fully against the side of the fountain. He gave a long groan, feeling every blood vessel in his head pounding in unison. Finally, he began to wipe away the drying mucus in his eyes.
"What in the depths of Gehemol was that?" He began to pinch at the bridge of his nose with one hand and massage the sides of his skull with the other. He lifted his head and opened is eyes to look at his mentor, still sitting across from him. The old man remained motionless, his hood still obscuring the topmost portions of his face. His stubbled chin and grinning mouth were the only things visible.
"What is so damned amusing, old man?" Leiros blurted out again. The old man remained motion-less with the same patronizing grin on his face.
"Ah ha! I see, you pierced into my mind during my visions. Did you enjoy what you saw? You perverted old fool!" Leiros leaned forward once again and prodded at the old man's knee, causing him to move ever-so-slightly.
Grandmaster Toulam took his time before responding. "Yes and no. The lecherous fantasies of your mind are entirely your's to enjoy. I did view the visions you had." The old man shifted on his rock seat. He let both of his hands fall away from his over-sized sleeves and whatever he was hiding in the rumples of his cloak. "I am happy on behalf of you. You dolt. And I am happy on my own behalf as well." He continued to extend his arms, revealing a glowing orb of quartz-like crystal, held between both of his weathered and skeletal hands.
It took a moment for Leiros to recognize the bauble that his mentor held. He had to take a double-glance from the old man's face, to his hands and back. The orb softly glowed a silvery light with small specks of gold glinting throughout its form.
"Is that one of the Nesharite Spheres?" Leiros' eyes grew wide and the pain coursing throughout his skull almost seemed to fade away. "There are less than a dozen still in existence. Only the Athulla of our Order, back in the ruins of Oerstav Caelii have possession of those..." His voice trailed off as he continued to stare at the strange item.
"Correct." Toulam continued to smile broadly. He almost seemed to relish the awe and attention that his student was focusing on him. "Last I heard, there were but nine of these damned things left." Toulam shuffled on his seat to move closer. "It wasn't easy to get my hands on it. What I did, I had to do. Understand this later."
Leiros seemed to ignore this mentor's cryptic rambles. "It's active right now? So you were..." He trailed off once again. He waited for his mentor to give a single nod. "It works? It records the memories, thoughts and visions of..." He took a deep sigh and scrunched up his face. "...Of me?"
"Your visions weren't just idle fancy, young man." Toulam lifted the orb into one of his hands and pulled his arm back into his cloak to deposit the orb in a hidden pouch for safe-keeping. "Nor was I spying on you for any nefarious reasons on my part." He brought his arm back through his sleeve. "As I said before you departed for realms beyond..." He gave a cough. "I've been waiting for these visions for decades."
"Why?" Leiros felt his jaw grow slack and lips began to pout. He was confused, unable to reason why his visions would be more important than anyone else's. "Why mine?"
"You, Leiros, must walk down the path that I have been building for the whole of my life." The old man lifted his hood to show his bleached eyes. Despite his blindness, Leiros could still feel the old man's vision settle upon him like rays of sun through cloud. "There are revelations to be had. You have quite the journey before you."
"Why would you need to record my visions into that sphere?" Leiros pressed at his mentor.
"So that when the time comes, you will remember them. Your visions and thoughts aren't the only ones recorded into this particular sphere. I have been placing my own, as well as those of my master, her master, and onward before. All the way back to that senile old fool Vhaltenesh." Toulam gave another cough into his hand. He stood up, turning away from Leiros for a moment. He gave a few wheezes and caught his breath, again. "I'm mortal, boy. Just as you are now. Eventually I will fade away, like those who came before. I refuse to leave you alone in this world, without guidance."
Leiros felt the weight of the old man's words and the entire situation keenly. He let his eyes slump to the rock-hewn floor of the room. Time seemed to pause for a moment, the candles ceasing their flickering. The visions he had were both a boon and a burden. What awaited him in the future must be severe indeed for his master to risk his life, his station, and his very soul to have such an item. No one was allowed to personally hold one of the Nesharite Spheres. Only the twelve Athulla of the Order were permitted even to use them, see them, or even speak of their existence. To have one in secret would draw the eye of the Athulak Pharreida; the inquisitor-knights of the Order.
"You needn't worry about such things." The old man gave a laugh while scuffling away from the fountain. "We've kept this orb secret for almost a millennia." Toulam turned on his bare feet to look back to Leiros. "Just don't go blabbing to anyone about this. I'll keep the orb in safe-keeping until it is your time to take it up. I fear that time draws close." The wizened man gave a grunt at the thought of his own mortality then continued to walk away. He reached the doorway down to the lower levels of the mesa and with a thought, blew out all the candles in the room.
Leiros remained on the stone slab, with his back pressed against the cool stone of the fountain of visions. He was in complete darkness, alone with his thoughts. He was beginning to fully realize just how complicated and strange his life was about to become.
"Don't dally, boy!" Toulam's shouts echoed through the halls and back to Leiros' ears. "If your vision was correct, you need to save someone's life tonight." He could hear a crackling laugh break through the darkness. "I think that's more important than your studies. Or your sleep."
Leiros lifted himself to his feet with a loud and exaggerated groan. His life was indeed becoming more difficult and filled with adventure. He didn't much like that, one bit.
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The billowing clouds were gathering and growing dark across the evening sky. The winds were picking up and beginning to howl and bluster. Leiros lifted himself to his feet and looked over the hounds-tooth rock that he was using for cover from the wind and early gusts of fine, white sand blowing in from the Jolash Duenr in the south-west. He could make out the great wall of sand and debris filling up the horizon. Tonight's storm would be one of the worst he had seen this season. Anyone left up on the summit of Auhl-Keignfel Stohll would be flayed alive in a matter of hours once that wave of razor-like sand hit. The winds at the heart of the storm on the horizon were whipping around at speeds exceeding the fastest of desert cats. Perhaps even enough to blow the feathers off of an authroc.
Leiros pulled his white scarves over his mouth and nose to protect himself from the sand and the wind. He pulled pieces of his new traveling cloak around his body with tight leather straps. The trailing tails of his cloak snapped in the wind like the mouthed tails of a frenzied ghellorth beast. He pulled his leather gauntlets tighter around his hands to make sure no sand got in. The soft furs inside his bracers and gloves felt warm and soothing on his skin.
He sat back down behind the cover of the hounds-tooth rock. He stretched his arms, his legs, then crossed both in front of him. He began to reach out with the powers he was now beginning to embrace in full. He could feel the young woman's energy as she climbed the side of the mesa. Her soul felt like it was on fire from within and burning with a frantic energy that made Leiros dizzy.
He understood now why she was doing what she was doing and although it was a foolhardy act of rebellious youth, it was something that he found amusing. He had been rebellious himself when he was younger. He had wizened up by the time he had reached the young woman's age, however, and he was only a few years older than her. He had to realize that people grew into their paths that their souls would follow at different times and in different ways. Still, despite this understanding, he had resolved not to make things easier on the young, crimson-haired woman.
He would make her realize things, he would shake up her life, and he would beat some sense into her if it was necessary. He would teach her indirectly, just as his own mentor had done, and just as he realized the young woman's mentor had done for her, as well. He would be the distant light that guided her in the darkness, yes, but he would also be the shadows that clawed at her if she strayed too far off the path. He had thought long and hard about this throughout the day, going over and over the visions he was imparted. This was the only way to guide her. She was too reckless, too rebellious, and too immature at this point in her life for any other kind of tutelage and protection.
He would influence her to safety and he would subtly coerce her mind through his telepathic powers, guiding her to the fountain of visions. He would force her to wake up. He would force her to unlock the powers within her blood. She was the descendant of Merithault, after all, the last of her bloodline. She deserved to suffer as all the Authrakallin oracles had suffered over the ages. She would be burdened with the sight, with the powers beyond mortal ken. After all, by climbing this very mesa, even if she was not yet a full adult, she would pass her Kollishi Authrak to become one of the oracles, herself. Since it would be him to greet her at the summit, it would also be him that would become her mentor once she had passed her proper rite of adulthood.
The visions were right and the words that Zerranistra had spoken into him were coming true. He would be bonded to this crimson-haired, young woman. He would be responsible for her as her mentor, her guide, and her distant protector. He would endure her follies as his own master, the cantankerous old Toulam, had endured his.
Leiros leaned forwards and picked up his quarterstaff from the rocky plateau of the mesa. He placed it across his lap and continued to reach out his energies to feel the young woman approach his perch. His mind began to drift off in part, wanting to recollect the features of the woman in his visions. The enigmatic and otherworldly Zerranistra. She said to him that he would be united with her in the future, once he proved himself to her. All he had to do was endure the tutelage of this crimson-haired woman, named Ghelta, and he would eventually be able to find the woman of his dreams. He would do what he needed to do, to find that strange woman once again. His mind, his body, and his soul cried out for her.
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