Revenge of the Gamer

 A new companion

Drevin watched the waves lap against the bow of the ship, and for a brief moment thought he caught a glimpse of something vast moving underneath the dark waters.  Whatever it might have been was gone in an instant, and the ship continued to glide across the sea untroubled.  It was a clear night with, thankfully, a stiff breeze.  Because of it they were making good time, and barring any difficulties should dock in Chiaroscuro the next morning.

They had been at sea for over a week now, and during that time he had gotten to know Marrette a little better.  At first she’d been reticent to speak to him, but every day she seemed to see him less as a dreaded Anathema and more as a companion.  He had even begun teaching her to use a sword, and she was a surprisingly quick study.  Drevin couldn’t help but like her, and he was glad for both her company and her courage.

The last several days had been difficult for him, but her presence had acted as a balm for his wounded soul.  She had helped him come to terms with what he was now, yet he still thirsted to know more about himself and his kind.  He craved knowledge about the fantastic new powers at his command, yet even more wanted to know how and why he existed.

He didn’t doubt his new patron, but Drevin did wonder why the Unconquered Sun had left creation to fend for itself.  Where had the deity gone and why?  More importantly, why come back now?  What had changed?  Was the disappearance of the Empress a factor?

These questions and more plagued him.  He had been taught many things by the Immaculate priests in his childhood, and those things were being brought into question.  Hard as it was to accept he knew that the Immaculate Philosophy was founded on lies.  Clever lies perhaps, but lies nonetheless.

“A jade bit for your thoughts,” came a warm feminine voice from behind him.

“Just wondering about the past.” Drevin turned to face her, and was once again struck by Marette’s beauty.  During their initial flight he hadn’t had time to really notice it, but in the past several days he had become more aware of her stunning good looks.  Her black hair and almond shaped eyes denoted imperial ancestry, but her skin was darker than most of the natives of the blessed isle.

“Too much thinking can get you into trouble,” she chided.

“I know, but I can’t help it.  My mind keeps going in circles.”

“From the look of things we should be arriving tomorrow.  What then?”

“Well,” he mused, “We have a fair amount of money left from selling that Daiklaive.  I was thinking that we could buy horses and make our way west from there.”

“Do you know where your friends are?”

“Not exactly.  Colonel Andrani kept that to himself.  But it shouldn’t be that hard to find three hundred imperial soldiers.”

“The threshold is a big place.  It might be harder than you think.” She countered.

“True, but it’s the best idea I’ve got.”

They lapsed into silence and stared at the waves for a while.  Drevin wanted to speak, but wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t lead back to their current situation.  Eventually his problem was solved when she spoke first.

“You know I was born out there.” She pointed eastward, “My father was a fisherman in Port Calin, and my mother spent her time raising my brothers and I.  I couldn’t even read before I came to the Blessed Isle.”

“How did you end up there?” Drevin asked in genuine curiosity.

“When I was thirteen I Exalted.  Some other children and I were on a small dingy and I fell overboard.  The tides were strong, and I thought that I was going to drown.  Then I felt this rush of life fill me, and suddenly I could breath the water.”

She paused thoughtfully before continuing, “Someone in my family must have been a Dragon Blooded, but neither of my parents knew who it might be.  Not long after rumors of my Exaltation reached an Immaculate monastery, and they sent an emissary to take me to the capital.

“I was sponsored by the Empress, and I even got to meet her a few times.  She arranged to have me tutored, and when they found that I had a talent for sorcery I was enrolled at the Heptagram.

“When she disappeared,” her voice took on a bitter note, “I could no longer afford my tuition.  Without her favor I suddenly found myself with a great many enemies, and very little money.  So I took a job working directly for House Cathak tutoring their children.  I was there for several years, and I even managed to save a bit of money.”

“So how did you end up being hunted?” Drevin asked.

“One of the Children that I tutored grew up, and he wanted to bed me.  I refused.”

“So he had you arrested?”

“Exactly.  After that I lost all respect for the Realm.  Under the guidance of the Empress it was a wonderful place, but now…I don’t know.”

“Well, you’ve heard my story so you know that I feel the same.  I grew up on the Blessed Isle, and it’s been hard to accept but I know it’s the truth.  The Realm is dying.  It’s eating itself from the inside.” He sighed at his own words as the weight of them settled over him.

“I’m a bit tired.  I think I am going to bed,” her tone was clipped, and he could see tears as she pushed by him and went below decks.  Drevin stayed above for a while thinking about what she had said.  The sun was beginning to crest the horizon when he finally crept below to join her in the cabin that they shared.

 

 

 

 

 

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General Cathak Tarkene felt a sense of purpose driving him forward, and mentally urged the Imperial warship on to greater speed.  Being a fire aspect he didn’t like sailing, and he couldn’t help but feel trapped.  It would be good to ground the legion on solid land again.

The Anathema that he was hunting had several days head start, and would likely gain more over the course of this voyage.  Some zealous persuasion of a few dockworkers had revealed that the monster had taken a two-masted merchant vessel bound for Chiaroscuro, and he knew that his massive warships were slower. 

Still, he had felt that bringing the entire 11^th legion was worth it.  Before he had been appointed a General Tarkene had led the Wyld Hunt in the Scavenger Lands, and he had been very good at his job there.  None of his prey had ever escaped him, and that was largely due to his willingness to apply as much force as was necessary.

Cathak Cainan, the grandson of Cathak himself as well as head of House Cathak, had been against him bringing so many troops.  But Tarkene had a writ from the Mouth of Peace allowing him to take whatever steps necessary to eliminate the Anathema, and he deemed the entire legion necessary.  So, in the end, Cainan had had to allow him his request. 

Tarkene was not stupid and he knew that antagonizing Cainan unnecessarily was a foolish move.  Before leaving he had sent a missive explaining the positive benefits of taking the legion.  For one many of the new troops were unblooded, and some time in the field would do them good.  The trek would also allow House Cathak to show some of its tributaries that they were still a force to be reckoned with.

Of course while those were valid reasons neither of them approached the truth.  Colonel Andrani needed to pay for his insolence, and if Tarkene guessed right then the Anathema would eventually end up with his old commander.  As the Realm didn’t want an Anathema to have a power base Cainan would no doubt order him to wipe out Andrani and his troops.  So all he had to do was herd the Anathema in the direction that he wanted him to go. 

“You’d better hope that the Dragons have mercy on you Andrani, because you can be sure that I most certainly will not.” He chuckled.  Soon, Andrani would be his.

 

 

 

 

 

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Drevin was mildly surprised at the riot of color that greeted him and his companion as they disembarked onto the dock.  Everywhere he looked the people wore bright clothing.  The men wore veils of differing color, and the women wore very little at all.  The noonday sun was beating down, and he had to wonder how the natives could stand it.

He had never been to Chiaroscuro, but he had been told that it was a Realm tributary.  If that was the case, then they were not very tightly controlled.  There were perhaps a dozen ships in the first age port, and none of them bore the markings of the Imperial Navy.  Nor were there any legionaries on the docks or in the streets.

Of course there were the large brass firedust canons that he could see overlooking the harbor.  He had heard stories of them, and by the looks of them they were probably true.  He wouldn’t want to be someone involved in a direct naval assault on this city.

Turning back towards Chiaroscuro he could see several broken spires stabbing hundreds of feet into the sky.  For just a moment he experienced a feeling of vertigo, and had a vision of a thriving first age metropolis.  The towers were intact, and untold people moved through the streets underneath them.  Thought brief the vision was very powerful, and he was left with the impression that he had been here before.  Dimly he heard his voice being called in the distance.

“Drevin!” Marette yelled, and he looked over at her dumbly, “I called your name three times.  Are you alright?”

“Fine.” He replied, shaking off the memories.

“Shall we find some place to stay?”

            “First I’d like to see about getting some horses.  I’d like to leave in the morning.”

            They looked at each other, and the same though passed unspoken between them.  The Hunt was behind them somewhere, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up.  Neither one wanted to stay any longer than was necessary.

            They made their way off the docks and into the city proper.  The place was like no other that Drevin had ever seen.  It was very evident that the current residents had built their city on the bones of an ancient city.  Most of the buildings were made of the smooth impenetrable stone that was the hallmark of the first age.  Here and there buildings retained a pane of the glass that was rumored to be harder than steel. 

It was a rumor that he was inclined to believe given how many people wore weapons made from shards of that same glass.  He would have to look into getting a glass sword himself.  The blade that he currently wore had been won from one of the sailors in a game of Gateway, and the rapier was much more slender than he was used to.  Marette had been training with it, and it would probably suit her smaller frame better.

“There,” she pointed, “That looks like an inn.”

The building that she indicated was five stories tall, and had wooden shutters over the windows.  A bright sign was painted over the wide double doors, but as Drevin couldn’t read the southern language he had no idea what it said.  He followed Marette inside, and paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room.

Perhaps twenty people were seated at the bar, and another thirty or so sat at the tables scattered throughout the room.  Most wore the robes of natives, but there were a fair number of foreigners as well.  A good thing as they didn’t want to be remembered if they could avoid it.

Drevin pushed his way through the crowd and took a seat at an empty space along the bar.  Marette was a few feet behind, and he turned just in time to see a rather drunken sailor collide with her.  Both went sprawling, and the sailor’s drink splashed all over him.

“Watch where you’re going you chit.” He slurred angrily.  Before he could stand a woman at a nearby stable kicked him back onto the ground.  She was wearing a light gray veil, and curiously enough the robes that only the men seemed to wear.  Her chestnut hair was cropped short, and a long dagger was sheathed at her side.

“You bumped into her.  The fault was yours.” She told him calmly in a thick southern accent.

“Stay out of it, wench.”

Drevin saw the woman’s eyes harden, and a moment later the dagger seemed to materialize in her right hand.  She took a step back, and from her stance he could tell that she knew what she was doing.

“I will give you one chance to apologize.  First to her, and then to me.” She said almost casually.

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

Fast as a snake she leaned forward and jabbed her blade into the sailor’s midsection.  He gave a surprised grunt, and when she stepped back her blade was bright with his blood.  He looked curiously at her for a moment as if he wanted to ask her a question, and then sagged to his knees.  Drevin could tell that her blow was mortal, and sure enough he collapsed a moment later. 

“Drevin, help her.” Marette hissed at him as several of the dead man’s friends drew their weapons.

He left his stool at the bar and moved to stand next to the woman.  She glanced at him as he drew his rapier, but said nothing.  Drevin counted five adversaries, but at least three of them were drunk.  As they approached he picked up a chair with his foot and flung it at the two on the left.  They were distracted for a critical second, and his blade flashed towards them.  He impaled the first through the thigh, and then dropped into a crouch to dodge a blow from the second.  His fist slammed into the second man’s crotch, and his foe went down with a strangled gasp.

The gray veiled woman was less selective in her attacks, and disemboweled her first target with a single wide slash.  His companion swung a crude club at her, and she wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid it.  Drevin heard a loud crack as it hit her shoulder, and she gave a grunt.  Before the man with the club could recover she flipped her blade upside down and plunged it into his chest. 

The last man turned and ran, and Drevin let him go.  He had no idea what Chiaroscuro’s laws regarding killing were, but since neither of his foes were dead it shouldn’t matter.  The gray veiled woman wiped her blade on a rag, and then sheathed it.

“Thank you.  My name is Aleri, and I am in your debt.” Her words were accompanied by a slight bow.

“Nonsense.  You were only trying to help me.  My name is Marette, and this is Drevin.”

“You are very skilled…” Drevin let his words trail off.  He had been about to say ‘for a woman’, but sensed that that would have been a mistake.

“As are you.  I am most pleased to meet you.  Would you join me for a drink?” Aleri asked.  Several of the tables around the fight had emptied, and she took a seat at one.

“Of course we would.” Marette answered quickly.  He could have kicked her.  The last thing they needed was attention, and the entire bar was watching them.  He reluctantly took a seat, and motioned for one of the barmaids to bring over some ale.

“So,” Aleri asked him, “You have considerable skill with a blade.  Where did you study?”

“Aleri, may I look at your shoulder?  I am a healer.” Marette broke in.  He gave her a grateful look for her timely intervention.  She placed her hands over her subject’s shoulder, and a soft light emitted from her hands.  Aleri gave her a look of wonder, and gasped in surprise.

“You are Dragon-Blooded.” Her voice was now tinged with respect.  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Marette spoke again.

“So tell me.  We are new here, and don’t really understand your ways.  What do the veils symbolize?”

“They show many things.  You can tell a man’s status and family by his veil and clothing.  My own shows that I am Dereth.” She said with pride.

“Dereth?” Drevin asked.

“In Chiaroscuro we recognize that sometimes the gods make mistakes.  I was mistakenly born a woman.”

“Ahh.” He made a noise as if he understood, but privately he chalked it up to strange foreign customs.  He was going to have to get used to such things now.

“So what brings you to Chiaroscuro?”

The fugitives looked at each other for a moment before answering.  “We are headed to the Scavenger Lands.”

“A long journey.  What do you seek there?”

“As I said I am a healer, and Drevin is my bodyguard.  We are on a pilgrimage to the Elemental Pole of Wood.”

“A noble enough quest.  I would be happy to offer my blade as well.  I know the lands of the south, and would gladly guide you.”

“We would be happy to have you.” Drevin felt Marette kick him under the table, and shot her a look that told her to go along with it.

“Excellent.  When do we leave?”

“With the dawn tomorrow.”

“I have preparations to make, and I must tell my family.  I will see you in the morning.” Aleri was obviously excited as she left the inn.

“Why did you say yes?” Marette asked angrily.

“Because, she is young and out to prove herself.  She was in a fight here, and I have no doubt that she will brag to anyone who will listen.  We don’t need her circulating our descriptions, and she can’t do that if she goes with us.”

“Oh.  I guess that makes sense.” She accepted his explanation, but he could tell that she still wasn’t happy with it.

“Now, I’d like to go buy a real sword and some horses before we leave in the morning.  Shall we?”

They had just stood and were about to leave when a youngster about twelve approached.  He wore the same robes and veil as most of the natives, but his clothes were a cut above most of what they had seen.

“Excuse me.  Are you Drevin?” he asked in thickly accented speech.

“Maybe.  Who wants to know?”

“I have been sent by Grandmother Bright to ask you to attend her.  She is a spirit that watches over my neighborhood.”

Drevin didn’t like the fact that someone here knew him, but he was curious enough to want to learn more.  If this was a trap of some sort then so be it.

“Alright, lead the way.”

The boy took them through a maze of streets, and if he had had to find his way back Drevin was sure that he would have gotten lost.  The buildings around them gradually became more and more decrepit, and the people seemed to match.  He was just about to ask where they were headed when his question was answered for him.  They entered an area of several blocks where the buildings looked to be in better shape than any he had seen in Chiaroscuro.  Most still had glass windows, and all were fully intact.

Many people went about their business in a marketplace in the center of this area.  Most looked normal, but here and there he saw gold skinned people with slack jawed expressions.

“Boy, what’s afflicting those people?”

“They were punished by Grandmother Bright for breaking the peace.  Now they serve the people who live here.”

Marette met his gaze, and he could tell that she didn’t like the sound of that.  This spirit must be powerful indeed.  He would have to tread lightly around her. 

The boy took them to a large canopy in the middle of the marketplace.  “Wait here, please.”

He entered the large vermilion tent, and came out several moments later. 

“She will see you now.”

Drevin ducked under the tent flap, and was a little surprised at what he saw inside.  An elderly woman with long gray hair sat comfortably on several gold and vermilion cushions.  She looked up at his entrance, and gave him a warm smile.

“Ahh, Drevin.  I see that you brought your companion as well.  Please, be seated.  Would you like some wine?”

“No thank you.” Marette answered politely.  Drevin merely shook his head.

“You are wondering why I summoned you here.” She stated.  It was not a question.

“I was more curious as to how you knew my name, actually.”

“I know many things, and can answer many questions.  I was here when the world was young.  I was here when your kind slew the Yozis, and I was here when the Sidereal goaded the Dragon-Blooded into rebellion.”

At the word Yozi he felt himself jerk erect.  He had no idea what it meant, but some powerful meaning danced just beyond his grasp.

“I see that I have your attention.” She cackled.

“Then you know what I am?”

“Of course, you are a Solar.  A Zenith unless I miss my guess.”

“Zenith?” Marette asked.  Drevin could only shrug.  He had no idea what it meant.

“What do you want with me?”

“Right to the point.  How very typical of your caste.  I called you here to offer you knowledge.”

“In exchange for what?” Drevin asked warily.  Spirits did not do favors without getting something in return.

“A simple request.  But we can get to that later.  First hear what I can offer you.  You seek answers about your past.  Answers about the first age, and about the Unconquered Sun.  If you wish to survive you will also need the weapons that your kind commanded of old.  I can provide both.”

“You have my interest.  Now, what price must I pay for these things?”

“You will be approached by someone offering you a gift.  Your first instinct will be to turn this person away without listening to what they have to say.  You must swear to hear them out, and to accept the gift that they offer.”

Drevin thought for several moments before replying.  He had no idea how the spirit knew that someone would approach him, nor did he know what she gained by him accepting this mysterious gift.  He didn’t trust her, yet he desperately craved the knowledge that she offered.  His survival almost certainly depended on it.  The Solar of old had commanded weapons that were barely even understood today.

“Very well, I accept.”

“Excellent.  Listen carefully.  Three days due south of here there is a vast sea of dunes.  Few people go there, and even fewer return.  There you will find a temple to your god, and inside you will find both answers and the weapons that I spoke of.”

“How am I to find this temple?”

One of the spirit’s hands disappeared inside the folds of her robes, and came out with a small red jewel.  She extended a wizened arm towards him, and he carefully took the proffered object.

“This gem will guide you.  You will feel a tugging in the direction of the temple.  Now be off.  The hunt stirs behind you, and will be after you before long.”

They stood and turned to leave, but she spoke again. “Marette, please stay a moment.  I would speak with you alone.”

Marette looked askance of him, and he nodded.  He would be right outside if she needed help.  She sank back onto the cushions, and he left the tent.  Drevin waited outside, and several minutes passed before she emerged.  Her face had gone pale, and she looked distracted.

“Are you alright?”

“No.” was all she said, and she refused to speak further.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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