A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 3: Chapter 44: White Lies

And Her Herald, peace be upon him, was the one who said: Oh people, give greetings to those you meet, and give succor to the ones in need. Give prayer before sleeping and the gates of heaven will be open to you.

And Her Herald, peace be upon him, was the one who said: Oh men of this world, fear the Goddess in women. I command you, treat them well, for they are in Her image.

And Her Herald, peace be upon him, was the one who said: Oh people, the Goddess did not send me from the Distant World to teach you to curse people and hate them. Rather, I was sent to teach you the higher morals and edicts of Heaven. Do no doubt the word of Heaven, for that is a sin most grave, and your punishment will be burning hellfire.

- An excerpt from the New Suras of the Edict of Heaven.

The problem with echoes was that they made distance rather difficult to ascertain. As the sound of the approaching footsteps overwrote each other, numbers too were hard to judge. But here in this dark pit, surely people were a good thing? Or so I would have thought, were I still new to this world.

And with that, I drew my sword, my Azag-Gishban, its comfortable weight lending me purpose. Summoning my shield to me, a massive edifice of wood and iron formed. It was a match to the one I had found beside Gersal’s corpse. Like me, it seemed, my Mimic was capable of learning new things.

Looking at the little girl, I gave her a nod but I couldn’t help but notice that she still looked queerly at me. However, gone now was the greater part of her initial horror.

“If we could hear them, it is more than likely that they have heard us. Pray that whoever approaches means well, but expect the worst,” I whispered just loud enough to be heard.

“You don’t have to tell me…” was her response, given in a tone that children reserved for nagging parents. “Won’t be finding me with my knickers down. Time to try something a little different,” she added as her expression changed to one of focused concentration.

Words, quick as a rushing stream poured out of her as she grasped her staff, the markings on its wooden surface glowed dimly before disappearing. Their arcane meaning, like with other spells I had encountered, of course, eluded me. Nonetheless, if I can even put it into words, I was given an impression of sharp, controlled flow. It was a mystery.

And a part of me reasoned on an almost instinctual level, that if I were to truly comprehend her magic, I would be well down the path of madness. For such was the price to be paid for bending the laws of reality.

“Alright, it's done. Ready,” she claimed in a soft voice.

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“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Annoyingly she just shook her head before pointing down the walkway. I raised my visor to give myself a better field of view. A will-o-wisps of light were coming closer, a lantern’s glow if I was not mistaken.

Being of natural flame, the approaching light was a different shade and hue to the purples thrown out by my Zajasite. In short order, the two lights pushed against each other to reveal our respective parties.

Facing us was an unlikely pair, a slender man and a petite woman who looked to be almost diametric opposites. The woman was wearing loose flowing robes and a wide broad-brimmed hat that tapered up into a smooth cone. At her waist was a lantern, and she carried a wooden staff adorned with many strange fetishes of bone and dull glass. A wizard or some sort of magic user, at a guess. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for having the foresight to down the Mana potion.

The man, in contrast, was tall and lean. He wore loose, utilitarian clothing typical of the local style, and across his lower arms and legs, the dull glint of riveted mail was visible. At his hips hung a lantern and two swords, one long and the other short. Both of them were sleeping for the moment in curved lacquered scabbards of smooth dark wood.

It was the man who addressed us, “That is Gersal’s shield. Where is and what have you done with him?” His voice was flat and calm, but in his eyes flared a restrained anger.

“Where is he!?” shrieked the small woman at his side almost petulantly. It was the well-practiced tone of one used to getting their way through eroding the other’s spirit.

I looked the pair of them over, registering a vague feeling of familiarity. “He is dead, and not by my hand,” I explained, eyes shifting from the woman to the man and back again, looking for any signs of threat.

As I did so, my mind wove the threads together, giving clearer shape to the recent memory. They were members of Gersal’s adventuring party. The woman’s name was Tally, but the man remained a mystery to me. I was taken suddenly by an overwhelming urge to know, and against my better judgment, I had already silently formed the spell that would sate my curiosity

Muram Al’ Hazin - Dervish (Human lvl.15)

Health: 181/255

Stamina: 36/51

Mana: 9/9

Even as the spell brought to me the information that I sought, like a faithful servant, I hissed inwardly. Had the woman detected my arcane prying? Her angry disposition remained and there was no change to the set of her face or the lines of her body. Tally had not been able to detect my secret spell, either that or she was an accomplished actor.

“Where is he, you lying cur! I know you’ve done something with him!” she shrilled voice warbling in near hysteria. She looked down and away for a moment. “If it wasn’t for the damn pack of rats we wouldn’t have been separated. I told him, told him so many times we shouldn’t have taken jobs down here…” she mumbled to herself, barely.

Without warning my ward decided to add her piece. “Look, we had nothing to do with him. We ran into a big blobby slimy thing, and there were rats and stuff. I think that that might have been what got ‘im!” the half-elven girl exclaimed.

Muram glared at us, his anger simmering silently for several long moments before he finally exploded. "A Quiverings has not been seen in these parts for a generation. I demand you take us to him. I will see for myself the truth of your words!" His voice cracked under the strain of his emotions.

Irritated by his combative tone, I took a deep, exasperated breath and pointed in the direction we had come from. "You'll find him back that way," I said tersely.

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"You're coming with us, to verify your claims. You are hiding something… not a lie, no, but not the whole of the truth," Muram insisted, his face hardening with each passing second.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from a long day, or perhaps a slight drunkenness on my own sense of power, or maybe a mix of reasons I could not quite grasp, but I felt a childish urge to provoke him further. I had had enough.

"The truth is, you abandoned one of your own, and now your guilt is making you lay the blame where it does not belong. I have told you everything I know. Do not dare to command me. I will not waste another word on you. Don't test me. Now, come child, we need to make our way to the surface," I said, my voice calm but firm, designed more to needle than to soothe.

Suddenly, from nowhere, Larynda blurted out, "Gil, I don't think I can hold it any longer!"

Startled, I snapped, "What now?" causing both Muram and his companion to jump.

Watery sludge rose from the effluvia of the sewage, forming a large swirling conical lance. Though only one spear of water was formed, and its form not quite as solid for lack of a better word, it was an excellent approximation of the Quiverings’ spell.

“Tally!” cried Muram warning, drawing his blades, even as the spell launched itself at the small woman, who threw some beads upon the floor with a crack.

The twisting spiral of water crashed against an invisible barrier, splashing everyone in the immediate vicinity with its horrible contents.

Larynda had now inadvertently forced our hand.

I dropped my bloody bundle of tails, for it seemed a fight was inevitable, but not entirely unwelcome. Although I hadn't used Identify on Tally yet, I knew Muram was not in top form. A fight would likely end in their deaths, granting me more experience. Despite my attempts at a peaceful resolution, fate seemed to always steer me towards violence.

No… No… I would not be pushed, the ghost of a guilty part of me exclaimed. It was time to claim choice over my actions… I would just use Greater Drain, to weaken them and force them to use reason. Yes… that was it. That was the correct and moral solution.

These thoughts and more ran at lightning pace inside my mind even as I started to cast one of my improved spells, Greater Drain. But even as I started to do so, twin flashes of sharp steel flowed toward me at different angles and my oversized shield moved to meet them, completely blocking my vision. I felt impacts at the top and midpoints of my large shield, and my sudden movement almost ruined my concentration in forming the spell. But the voices took up the slack, continuing the chant in my mind.

The Mimic’s singular eye opened and showed me the current tableau in shades of mortuary gray.

Having failed in his attack, Muram had taken a step back, out of measure. I saw now with my Mimic’s eye that the Dervish was wielding a pair of Zulfikars, swords with two points at their tips. A poor choice for dealing with a man in full armor. What was to be his strategy, here?

Greater Drain was taking much longer to cast than was usual. Was it because I was already in combat, or was it because I was trying to do two things at once? These errant thoughts whirled in my mind, even as I met Muram blade to blade.

Displaying remarkable agility, he danced around my tower shield and struck my blade off-center with his shorter sword. At the same time, he aimed a thrust at my face with his main weapon. The lethal twin tips of his longer blade lunged towards my face, but I ducked at the last second, turning my head to the side. The steel grazed the side of my helmet, inflicting a negligible three points of damage.

I realigned myself, employing the steps that Cordelia had drummed into me to reset my stance and position, stepping sideways. Uncertain if it would work, I decided to use the Shield Bash skill. As I activated it, a familiar thrum coursed through my limbs. My heavy Mimic shield surged forward with unnatural speed, slamming Muram against the passageway wall and stunning him momentarily.

Filled with the fervor of combat, I swung my sword with the full intention of cleaving him in two, momentarily forgetting my initial plan to disable the pair. Despite being off-balance, the tall man deftly parried with his offhand blade, skillfully turning aside the force of my blow. Simultaneously, his other hand struck at my gauntlet, causing only a slight sting. Once again, the Dervish managed only to inflict minor chip damage.

But, even as I was beginning to feel that I had the situation well in hand, I felt several shocking impacts upon my back and my eyes widened in surprise as each of them took a small chunk out of my Health. What sort of weapon would be able to pierce solid steel plate with such ease?

This time, even with the aid of the voices, I could not keep the spell intact. Something of arcane origin disrupted its magical formation and the Mana used to summon the spell. The Mana used withered away, lost to the ether.

I turned around, keeping my massive shield between me and Muram. Its monstrous gaze kept an eye on him, and I could not help the grin that stole itself upon me as I laughed crazily.

Tally had summoned three orbs of blue energy that floated around her like wisps. Tally pointed her staff at me and the orbs flew at me. In response, Larynda intercepted two of the orbs with her balls of water, and where they met was an explosion of steam and released magical energies. The last one moved too swiftly for me to dodge, and I grunted as it impacted my shoulder. But there was something more to this arcane attack. After the initial contact, I felt something cold, yet hot, bypass the metal of my armor completely. An ethereal knife stabbed away at bone and muscle, and this time almost twenty points of Health were stripped from me, I noticed detachedly.

Still, but a few drops in the ocean.

However, my patience was at the end of its tether.

“Stop!” I shouted, my lungs bellowing in an explosion of volume that I did not know I possessed. “Peace! I did not kill your friend, Gersal, or whatever his name was!” I entreated. In a show of good faith, I sheathed my sword.

Most likely knowing that the situation was against them, the skilled swordsman warily lowered his blades but did not sheathe them. Likewise, the witch lowered her staff but nonetheless kept it pointed in my general direction. The difference in power between us was as night and day.

However, I was already taking the time to cast a new spell in this small lull of combat. In an eery raspy voice, the magic laughed in the halls of my mind as it began to take ravenous form in this existence.

Rust came forth, an oily invisible black lightning that shot out with a murderous pace at Muram. It ran across his whole form as it ate into its favorite prey. Tally and Muram’s eyes both widened in shocked surprise as the Dervish’s armor was consumed by the unearthly magic.

He fell to his knees with a pain-filled scream, dropping his swords to the ground with a clang, as he was burned by his very own armor, the exothermic energies cooking him alive. The smell of roasting pork and burning hair filled the immediate space, overpowering even the stench of the Perfumery as he thrashed about.

It was so easy that it felt almost like cheating.

Larynda looked dumbly on, the horrific display turning her from a combatant into a bystander.

“It cannot be. Fae magics, the eater of the iron weapons of men!” Tally shouted in surprised consternation. For a moment, she looked dumbly at me before screaming her companion's name.

Blessedly, Muram had stopped screaming long before his Health had reached zero. A notification crossed my vision that I idly dismissed.

Looking at us, and seeing that her companion was already done, she launched balls of energy at the pair of us before turning tail with tear-filled eyes to frantically run away. Still, in a state of shock, Larynda did not move to dodge the balls or energy and I had to block them with my spiked shield. With a small smile, though it did damage to the Mimic’s Health I noticed that the faux tower shield was able to absorb the attack.

Dismissing my shield, I drew my crossbow, placing a fresh bow and cocking it, and summoning new magic. Looking down its sights, I gave my target some lead before I pressed the trigger and let loose an Inferno Bolt. A small amount of Stamina and Mana drained away from me.

Guided by the spell, the bolt flew for a moment before bursting into an incandescence that left dancing spots across my vision as it sped towards its intended. A scream shortly followed, confirming I had successfully hit my target.

“Not Fae magic. Not in the least,” I stated with calm surety.

Turning to Larynda, I tried to snap her out of her stupor.

I placed a bloody gauntleted hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly to give some measure of reassurance. “Remember, they attacked us first. We are not at fault,” I asserted, hoping to assuage whatever negative feelings she might have had. It was a lie, but a well-meaning one.

The poor girl nodded dumbly, taking my words for what they were worth.