Pegulis, Chapter 7

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ETHELWEN - BARVELLE, royalblue
The physicians had kept Ethelwen under observation for a couple of days before they had released him. A quick inspection had been enough to show that he had not been injured, but they had still wanted to keep him under observation a little longer, and make sure that his mind was as hale as his body. Ethelwen had put up with the confinement with apparent good humor, but every time the door would open he would look around, the fur on his tail standing slightly on end. He was waiting for the moment when someone would come, because the truth about him had been exposed, and they would never accept it.

But no one had come, and Ethelwen was released back into the tunnels of Barvelle. It was then that he began to hear the rumors. Eirene had locked herself away in her tower, and wasn’t allowing anyone to draw close to her. Coul was planning to leave Barvelle, to go deal with the Kaustirian invasion of the Cheronese. Arktus and the other Sages were working on something secret, something that could protect Pegulis, something that no one knew about.

That explained it. Everyone was simply too busy to care about him. They would let him be, at least until things settled down. And then they would deal with him.

He could run, but where would he go? There would be no place that would accept him, and there was nowhere to which he could go back. It was Barvelle or nothing.

So Ethelwen buried himself in his work. He subjected himself to the depths of the sewers, where brave workers cleared out the last of the poison that had invaded their sewers and corrupted the food and water supply. He buried himself so deep in filth, dirt, and muck that he seemed to vanish. And every night he stayed up late, to the sound of a scratching quill.

Every day no one came to find him was a relief. It was a reprieve from what he knew had to come eventually. Every day they didn’t come was torment, because he knew it would only lead to another day of wondering, and of worrying.

Something would have to break eventually. It was just a matter of when and how and what.
 
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Tavark
The day was long and dragged on, but Amara didn't drag herself back to Faibel's home until long after sundown, her muscles sore and body aching from long hours of labor. She had aided in the repairs of inns and shop stores, patched roofs and mended windows, and what she really needed right then was a good soak and some rest. A soft sighed escaped her when she finally arrived at the doorstep of Faibel's home. Tang sat perched on her shoulder as usual appearing to be as tired as she, his stiff posture slack. She lifted a hand to push open the heavy wooden door but sounds of a disturbance inside had her pausing. It was a scream that had her thrusting it open and rushing inside.

Children cowered behind corners and door frames, too afraid to wonder any further, but Amara paid them no mind. The sounds were coming from the kitchen. Four teens no older than herself were involved in the ruckus, three cowering against the cupboards and the last cornering Faibel with a chopping knife held at the ready. Their host tried to console the girl with gentle words, motioning with her hands for her to put the knife down. The girl didn't waver. Amara's fingers bit into the wood of the doorframe as she watched the girl advance until her knuckles paled. No matter how much she wanted to call out words failed her. She was stuck there watching the girl raise the knife and bring it down... "
Hey!" she finally shouted. The girl paused mid-swing and turned away from Faibel slowly. Amara's blood froze dead in her veins. Her eyes were vacant. Dangling from her neck was a silver pendent nshe assumed to be the girl's aux and even it seemed to have lost its luster. On her shoulder Tang's fur bristled, the small, sightless creature shrinking away to hide behind her neck. Even now Suvius has a hold?

The girl started to advance in slow almost limp strides not unlike during the siege of Tavark and Amara stumbled back, her mind racing for what to do, how to escape. "
Y-you don't have to do this," she implored, as she was pushed back down the corridor. The children watching ducked behind their hiding spots, some bursting into tears. The huntress drowned them out as best she could while she lead the girl away from them, which wasn't hard in the least. "They're dead. He's dead. Eimund is dead and so is Suvius. They're dead!" The heel of her foot caught something and she jumped, panic shooting through her. Oh gods above, she was cornered! She spun around, needing to search for another escape route, and found the door handle. She jerked at it until it gave and she threw herself across the threshold and into the snow of Faibel's yard. She stumbled blindly but quickly caught herself to face her opponent. "They're dead. They're dead. They're dead," she continued to chant. The knife was swung and she ducked it. The next attack she barely managed to parry away with her own dagger before it met with her neck. But they're dead...

She caught a patch of ice and her foot slid out from under her. Her knee jabbed into the snow and she caught her breath. Looming over her was the girl, her eyes so, so vacant. They were nearly glowing. You are going to pay dearly for what you did to me.

"
Amara!"

She started, her muscles coiling under her tanned skin, and she lurched at the figure of the girl tackling her to the snow. "
Stop," she growled. "Just stop. You no longer do their bidding so just wake up!" She continued to shout at the girl until she finally blinked and her eyes regained their clarity. A small gasp escaped her and she crawled out from under Amara and towards the crowd that had gathered on the door step, running straight into Faibel's arms. The huntress sat back on her knees and ran her fingers through her hair. One simple thought ran through her mind: I got to get out of here. With that, she jumped to her feet and ran down the streets of Tavark until she came to be standing in front of the few houses that remained untouched.

Not everyone came back from the siege, not all houses continued to have occupants, and what to do with these houses were being debated. Stripping them for resources seemed too disrespectful but fixing them up made it seem like the people inside still existed. There was talk of simply tearing them down and rebuilding them when need be, and that tore at her heart. While she hadn't been in the house since, well, since after the dragon attack when Ture fell ill and needed to be looked after, it was still her home and had been long before memory served her. This was where she grew up, learned to read and write, threw fits when her mum wanted her to help with chores instead of learning archery with her father, where she brought her first kill and hung its skin, where her family loved, fought, forgave, laughed, cried... But where they were not when they... She should have looked for her father when he needed her the most. She should been with her mum when they came. Maybe then they would still be here to welcome her home.

Her hand shook as she held it out and planted the palm of her hand against the splintered door where Eimund's men broke in and gave it a gentle push. It swung inward on creaky hinges and her eyes widened at the mess left behind. The men obviously wanted more than her mother, the furniture busted and scattered and not one object left undisturbed. What hung on the walls were no more. The house was cold, the windows busted from the dragon attack, and nothing was left to light a fire with. She had thought to grab some supplies from her parent's room where her father kept his hunting gear but more likely than not nothing would be there that would be of use to her. Glass and who knew what else crunched under her boot when she took a step forward, almost unaware of the action. It was like stepping into a nightmare she wanted to wake up from but couldn't. The walk through her house was surreal, and then she came to stand in the doorway of her room. Her cot was stripped and flipped, her chest shifted through, and the closet her father made her with her mum's help laid busted and broke on its side. The only other thing she owned was the spoils of her kills and they were either gone or ruined.

She went about straightening the three pieces of furniture to her name the best she could, the cot being the last thing rightened. It was nothing but a broken frame now.

"
Amara?" The huntress turned and was met by a concerned Faibel. "Are you alright?" She managed a meek smile.

"
No, she didn't hurt me," she replied, mindlessly running a hand over her cot's frame. Faibel stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"
Why don't you come back with me?" the women suggested.

"
I want to leave."

"
Where will you go?"

"
To Barvelle."

"
The secret city?"

Amara grinned wryly, "
Mountains might hide secrets, but secrets don't hide from me."
 
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Ophanim Hayyoth

Shifting a little from his position, Ophanim had been staring and listening to the other two, following and trying to make sense into what had happened. It didn’t seem that either of them minded his presence, or maybe they had forgotten him. It didn’t matter, for it seemed that there were some signs of information that he could get hold of. Information regarding the golems, regarding the Ghoul Sage, and Ophanim felt his ears twitch a little in interest.

The caves of Barvelle. Holding in his breath the Avian took a note to remember these words. Maybe there would be answers if he went out by himself? Tracing his hands over the floor Ophanim leant forward a little more, hoping to itch closer as not to miss a word.

What followed was of no interest to him anymore. Ophanim knew enough, the sages were scheming, using them and discarded them as they liked. There was nothing noble in the task he was given, there was nothing brilliant about his work, and copying the intricate circles. It was just a game, another form of educating the crowd, and pushing their folly down their throat. To them, to these wise sages, Ophanim was just another pawn who moved one step at a time.

With a determined look in the eyes the Avian slowly rose up from his place, feeling how his legs wobbled a little under his weight, but ignored it. He wouldn't have that, he couldn't have him used and sacrificed as a mere pawn. Without another word the male turned around, returning to the work he had left, as he picked up his utensils. He was going to be smarter, he was going to head forward and get to the matter. Or so he had decided, but first he decided to play the fool, to stay low and move around as they wanted. Bending forward to start working, Ophanim fixed his eyes on the spell circles again, but couldn’t find the focus and concentration he needed.

Once they are gone, Ophanim thought. Once they sages left, he would prepare himself to go down the dungeons of Barvelle. The sage had said it himself, only the Vonsoon knew more about the magic and the Ghoul Sage. Only them, and the dungeons was where they were. Hoping that it wasn’t another lie, or a trick to make him move around to the command and plans, the Avian pretended that he was inside of his own little world, moving around his hand without tracing anything.
 
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Aldus - Abandoned Tunnel, #9854a9
Aline Darklyn ...

A name only made vaguely infamous due to the 'apparent' madness of her late father. Outsiders, those looking into Aline's life, would more than likely claim she is following the same fool-hearty path as her parent. Whispers and shaking heads following her wake as she stuffed half-scribbled notes into her pocket and tucked books under her arm, wrapped in a cloak enchanted by the old man. She seemed unusually determined to walk down the road that would lead to nothing but disappointment and shame - the magic she had been pursuing was old and ancient and at least before the cataclysm but everyone but herself thought of it as a dead end, something that passed away with the gods and was best left forgotten.

Aline was a friendly sort, but she still scoffed lightly at their narrow-mindedness. Just because something was misunderstood and collecting dust in a deep, abandoned hallway didn't mean that it was not without purpose or use ... she had to quietly admit to herself though - the main reason she started this was because of her father. The smell of old dust and damp floors resonated through the corridor as she walked to the echoes of her own footsteps, childhood memories keeping her occupied until she finally reached her destination.

The final location was a round room that served as a dead end, plastered with strange, eldritch and ancient writings. Not many people even knew what they meant anymore and even those capable of understanding by this point had abandoned such fruitless labors and chased after more modern techniques or other stumblings. Though this had started with her father, since beginning to translate the old words, she had become more and more determined to reveal their true meaning. Aline could only explain it as a feeling - a hunch - of something pulsating beneath those forgotten words, beating with some strange alien power that was both deep and subtle.

As she paced around the edge of the room, she spoke soft words as magical circles weaved into existence from her fingertips and suddenly the room was brightened from the soft glow of the artificial orb in her hand. She waved it away lightly as it fell, like a feather, in the middle of the room. It was quiet with only the snaps of old cavern walls, the shifting of her notebook opening adding to the echoing tune. She slid down onto the floor, easily folding her legs as she popped the book onto her lap and extracted a pencil made from granite from one of her pouches.

'This is it,' she told herself as she looked up at the inscriptions hollowed out into the wall, shifting her eyes back to her book. 'The last of the translations.' It took her not more than a tenth of a candle-burn before the sound of her gasp interrupted the natural music of the cavern. "Wait..." she spoke aloud and quickly compared her notes to the surface above her. Then propping herself up, she left the open book on the ground and looked even closer at the old eldritch writing.

"Constellations ...?" She was exasperated with herself and yet there was a sense of fulfillment that came from the sudden rush of new knowledge. "How could I have missed it? My gods..." Filled with shock and disbelief, she reached up, sweeping her bangs back as the significance of her discovery overwhelmed her. Then as if hit with a wave of energy, she scooped up her notebook and started to sketch the outlines that were given to her. 'I had seen them before, but thought they were merely simple observations or perhaps thoughts written in a moment of awe - not as the core!' It wasn't long before she had finished several copies of the symbols. They were something that everyone saw every day, told in bedtime stories, used to tell time, even in [supposedly] outdated theories of magic - but these versions had been written differently and yet bared resemblance to the sky.

Her first real breakthrough, and the presence of the core symbols now made the rest fall into place. Biting her lower lip as she stepped back once more, leaving the book on the edge, a small sigh escaped her lips. "In theory," she recited to herself, "magic comes from four sources - one from words even I don't know... I can only assume an ancient language. Magic from the soul... magic from the natural world.. and magic from the Aether." She paced back and forth a couple times. "But... this claims to have access to something different. It hardly offers much of an explanation here though..."

She slumped her shoulders and looked back at the personal notes for a few seconds. "Well, nothing risked, nothing gained." Shifting her position above the book once more, she fingered through the pages for a moment and stood back up. "Ok... so I can manipulate soul energy to draw the symbols.. and activate the 'gate'? Hm..." Trying not to think on it too much now, she began to exercise the inner energies into her fingers. She hadn't grown up with this type of magic or really knew much about it beyond minor tricks, but had pursued it during her studies of these runic symbols - for this very reason. Light ebbed into her fingers and trailed behind in streaks of light as she carved the sign for Leo in front of her.

'Simple enough,' she thought as she drew in a deep breath. Now came the more experimental part of it all and in fact, perhaps strangely, the texts even encouraged apprentices to explore and test. Of course, it wasn't like she had any choice in the matter. She placed her palm up against the shining sign and spilled a little bit of her inner energy into it. She yelped slightly in surprise as the runic symbol sprung to life and flashed before a small orb of light - like the one on the ground - grew into existence. Perhaps not the most awe-inspiring thing one could do with a new magic, but the creation of it's glow was definitely different, in two parts: first, it had been considerably brighter and willing to move to her thoughts (though only basic movements) and second, she hadn't felt a drain on her at all after applying her magic to the symbol. Certainly, soul magic had a cost to the user and even Aether magic did, in forcing it to manipulate to your wants... but this ancient form of runes, simply came to life as if she were writing instructions on a wall, all on it's own.

For a while, she just stared at it, curiously thinking of what this could mean.
 
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Road to Barvelle Pt. 1
I hardly recognize any of this. The dragon's rage had flatten some trees and stripped others, branches bare and left dangling in places. Snow was churned up and the earth laid pummeled and uneven underneath it all, soft in places were melting was near continuous. Still, the land showed signs of healing. The trees still rooted were gradually regaining their lost pines, game trails where animals found suitable to traverse were developing, and the land seemed to be molding to the Tavarkian hunters' consistent treading. Yet, it wasn't the forest Amara came to know and love. The river that came towards the proud city ran strong and fast from the mountains, pregnant with freshwater from the surplus of snow they received. The huntress had considered following it but thought against it, opting for a more direct route to the secret city.

She departed under the quite assurance of dawn when the sky shadowed blue before being introduced to the sun, shown off by Faibel who had packed her more reasonably than Amara expected of her. Among her supplies were animal hides to keep her warm and dry while she slept, what dried meats and bread they could spare, a water skin, thermic stones, and warmer clothes for Barvelle's cooler climate to slip on over the clothes she already wore. The woman tried talking her into taking a horse but they needed to be fed and watered too, and tended to attract unwanted attention specifically from the wildlife. It was also a lot easier to cover her tracks if it was just her. What Amara did allow her to loan, albeit with some reluctance, was her son's compass and a quiver of steel tipped arrows that once belonged to her husband. The shafts were black and smooth, a dark plumage arranged at their ends, and made the few arrows she still owned look like kid toys. It was a mismatched arrangement really. The thick boots she wore were not her's either, stuffed to better accommodate her smaller feet, and neither were the gloves, which were big enough to shove over her blood-coated fur bracers, bound in places for a more secure fit.

She felt like a little child parading in their parents' clothing.

Nightfall tugged at the edges of the world as
evergreen ebbed away to sprawling barren lands of the tundra, fighting for dominance over the greying sky and with it came a chill. The huntress wiggled into the clothes provided for her, the hem of the hooded fur coat dropping to her knees and the pants enveloping her legs in a comical way. I feel as if I've been raised by saber-bears! She chuckled at the thought before securing both articles of clothing with her belt. When the time came to rest she didn't bother with a fire though she had flint. Instead, she simply borrowed her way into the snow thankful for the thickness of her gloves and hollowed out a small cave barely big enough to fit her and her pack. The top was smoothed over to avoid dripping and the bottom was lined with pelts. What was left was draped over her person. Food was the last thing on her mind as the silence pressed in on her. Never had Amara been so far from home and to be alone out in the wilderness made her feel small and vulnerable. For the longest time she laid there thinking back on all that had happened in such a small period of time. The weight of it all just kept pressing down harder and harder on her until finally she caved.

The huntress of Tavark wept for her fallen parents, her slain comrades, for the suffering children, and for the home and sanctuary she had lost.
 
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Road to Barvelle Pt. 2
Hours slipped by into miles but still the snowy landscape stretched onward. The huntress had endured snowfall, passed silhouettes of tribes, yet didn't feel any closer to Barvelle than yesterday or the day before that or the day before that. She paused and took a drink of water. "What do you think, Tang? Are we lost?" The mute creature poked his head out of the collar of the coat, his large ears framing her chin and providing an odd tickling sensation though she could not feel him in the normal sense. He said nothing, merely stared straight ahead with his eyeless gaze. Amara hummed and consulted the compass. We'll eventually get there, she decided. Even if we somehow end up passing it by at least there's Aldus to look forward to. Still, the uncertainty was unfamiliar. Back in Tavark she always seemed to know where she was and where she was going curtesy to growing up in the area under the wing of her father. Out in the middle of nowhere there was nothing directing her. She huffed and pressed onward.

Midday rolled around and she decided to nibble on the dry meat provided for her. It was silent out on the frozen tundra, nothing but the occasional howl of the wind disrupted its perpetual sleep. A stark contrast to her boisterous home. It was like she stepped into a whole other world; a cold, alien world at that. During her hike the young huntress stumbled upon animal tracks and nearly trailed after them, but stopped herself in fear of wandering too far off course and winding up more loss than she felt. Then, on the horizon protruded a hazy silhouette of what could only be the mountain the housed a whole city within its rocky walls. "
Look Tang!" she exclaimed excitedly. "We're almost there!" She laughed in relief and picked up her pace.

Another night preyed on the day and she eventually stopped to dig herself a hole to sleep in. Bread was to be her dinner for the night. As they laid there in the dark of their handmade ice cave, a noise broke the silence. Tang's ears pricked in alarm from his position on her pack-turned-pillow where he laid curled up among coils of his own tail and Amara lifted her head to listen more closely. The sound continued on a path toward her and the closer it came the more sure she was. She was being tracked by wolves! She held her breath and remained as still as possible, hoping she was buried enough snow for the small pack to pass her. They were close enough for her to hear them sniff around. Her heart rate picked up and she knew if she didn't calm down she'd end up giving herself away but slowing the beating of her heart was easier said than done. Her hand slid to her side almost at its own accord, her fingers easing into one of her belt pouches where they curled around something solid and uneven in shape, and she clenched it tightly...



ten_egyptian_lapis_lazuli_amulets_third_intermediate_period-roman_peri_d5425257h.jpg


Amara awoke at sunrise feeling confused. Tang had slept balled up on her chest and in her hand she held her stones. She blinked at them, feeling she was forgetting something, and laid there for a short while trying to remember. And then it came to her: she was attacked by wolves! Well, sort of. The huntress laid motionless for a long moment listening for the pack that had paid a visit the previous night. She couldn't even recall falling asleep to the steady rhythm of the breathing and crunching snow underfoot. Was it just a dream? When all seemed cleared, she risked peering out of the small entrance to her temporary dwellings and looked around. Nothing seemed amidst so she climbed out of her cave and took a closer look at things. Paw impressions in the snow circled where she slept but none of the wolves, four she guessed, ventured any closer before wandering away in the opposite direction she was heading in. She didn't allow herself to linger on the odd event, she simply focused on digging out her pack and bolting for Barvelle.

The huntress didn't stop until midday and even then she felt too antsy to sit down and rest. Surely she had put enough distance between her in the wolves but she didn't want to take any chances. It would look unbecoming to the Tavark legacy if she arrived at the door step of the secret city in shreds. She took the opportunity to eat the last of her meat and downed some water, refilling the skin with more snow, and then proceeded towards her goal. Tang seemed restless as well, constantly moving from one shoulder to the other every so often. Amara finally had tired of his energetic display and banished him to the inner folds of her coat.

Barvelle's mountain loomed over head and the bigger it became the more eager she was to step into its halls. "
To think that was where my mum was born was raised," she murmured. "And where she met Father. Do you think we'll find the library she worked?" Tang listened in silence for his warm confines, his head the only thing visible above the collar of her coat.

Day melted into the oranges and reds of evening for a brief moment just before she was hit with another round of snow. She groaned inwardly. It's right there! At this rate I'll have to wait until tomorrow! She'd be damned if she had to post prone her arrival another day just because the snow slowed her down and all instinct went against traveling at night. Last time she was foolish enough to press on into the night without being properly prepared for night travel it turned out very bad for her. Well, depending on the outlook on had, but that was a story for another time. She was loosing daylight fast and with that knowledge she dug deep into her energy reserves and ran toward the towering walls of Barvelle.
 
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Uncomfortable, teal
The two sages and Ophanim shared a silence for a few lines of the water clock. Ophanim studiously ignored Arktus, who studiously ignored Michel.

"Ophanim, I am very sorry for this misunderstanding," Arktus began. "It is true .. that I did not tell you everything. But at the same time, knowing the full truth of the matter would not have changed anythi-"

"Come on." Michel made for the door. "Let's not bother him any further."

"Do not seek the Ghoul Sage!" The Calm Sage struggled against the Mountain of Aldus as the old man forcefully yanked him through the door. "He co- comes and goes as he pleases," his hands slipping on the frame, "but he is infinitely more dangerous than you thiiiiii" and silence fell on the avian.

"Arktus," the pair stalked down the tunnels of Barvelle, "if there is something you need to say, or should say, or want to say, now is the time."

But the Calm Sage had once again composed himself, and gave him a wry smile in return. "I believe in Eirene as much as anyone does. She promised us peace, enlightenment, and empowerment. Is that not enough?"

"There are only so many cracks in the story that people can take." Michel sighed. "We still need to figure out what to do with Kaustir. I hope Coul comes back with good news."
 
Secret Meetings, silver
The wraith knew nothing of the cold. It huddled inside the furrow of the rock wall outside the secret city, folded deep inside a cloak that was designed only to block the sun, and waited. It had a mission to complete, and it would freeze to death before abandoning it.

But the wraith had to wait no longer. A soft noise came from even deeper inside the mountain and the wraith tensed, before a cloaked figure emerged from its depths. Rolls of parchment were in its hands. Without a word, the cloaked figure passed off the parchment to the wraith, and they vanished inside the sun-cloak.

“That is the last of it?” The wrath hissed.

“Every tunnel and passageway, every entrance and exit. Barvelle is laid bare before you.”

The wraith bobbed in satisfaction, before turning to go. It was halted by the figure’s words.

“Am I done? Can I leave this frozen wasteland?”

“No.” The stranger growled, and the wraith continued. “You have a new task. Find a way to bring Barvelle to its knees, should they try and resist.”

There was a moment of tense silence.

“It will be done.”

Then they were both gone, the stranger back inside the tunnels of Barvelle, and the wraith swallowed up by the snow. Nothing marked their meeting.


End of Chapter 7
 
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