Freeland Crossing - Cont.
The Stygian and the raiders halted their advance on each other. After a moment, the Stygian said "He is right. There is someone...something else here. Out there." He pointed toward the now total darkness where the scream had come from. Staring for a moment into the darkness, Korath Kag'et turned in an instant away from the Shemites, as if they were not there and called to his servants. "Thamot! Mon! Prepare!"
The two servants quickly pulled several things from their master's packs. The set out a rug, four cubits across, hexagonal shape, made of thick material with an ornate design of geometric symbols and carefully laid it on the ground. Korath Kag'et sat himself comfortably in the center of the rug and his servants set a small brazier at each corner of the rug and lit them from the campfire. An acrid odor and bluish smoke rose from each brazier. With his staff across his lap, the Stygian began to chant quietly.
Thamot and Mon took a jar of powder and began tracing lines and symbols in the ground around the camp as the others watched.
For a few moments Aema watched as the servants traced their circles, lines and shapes on the ground. A shape she had been taught to recognize began to take shape.
"No!! You can't!" she yelled, standing up and facing the seated Stygian, with surprising strength in her voice.
Korath Kag'et stopped chanting for a moment and looked at the girl. "I thought as much. No mere pilgrim, are you, girl. A priestess, aren't you. And not a novice either." His lips twisted into a sneer, "Well your soft Mitra will not help us now. What those vulgar raiders or the brutish northman would do to you will pale before your fate if what's out there takes you." Their eyes held for a moment and then the Stygian closed his eyes and went back to his chanting.
When the servants finished drawing the arcane symbols on the ground around the camp, then sat behind their master. He opened his eyes for a moment and spoke to the rest of the travelers. "Do not venture beyond the outer circle of fire, if you value your lives." With that, the lines and symbols on the ground burst into an eerie, sputtering, yellow flame, no more than an inch high but encircling the camp and criss crossing through it.
Beyond the flame a few feet of the swaying grass of the planes were visible, then darkness. Then a shadow, no more than a blot of darkness as high as a child that looked like part of the nighttime darkness itself moved toward the camp. Difficult to see, it blotted out what little could be seen of the grass around it. It moved up to the arcane fire and then back.
To the left, another shadow detached itself from the night and approached the circle. Then another. In a matter of moments there was a soundless host of flickering darklings probing the edge of the camp.
The two remaining Shemish raiders backed toward the center of the camp. "What are they?!?" one asked.
Nobody answered him. The Stygian continued his quiet chant.
"I'm not sure." said Aema. "The might...be..." she paused "I'm not sure." She took the symbol of Mitra from around her neck and held it in her hand. She walked near the edge of the circle and mouthed the words of a prayer she had learned in the safe confines the Temple of Mitra in Tarantia. The symbol in her hand suddenly flashed and the area around the camp was illuminated is if by daylight. The shades shriveled and darted further back into the surrounding night, only to approach again as the sudden light began to fade.
"I'm not sure." she said again. She looked at Haros and made a slight shrug and shook her head. He looked uneasily as the soundless, shapes moved around the edges of the Stygian's circle of flame.
"They are hungry." said the Cimmerian. "We are lucky you are here, wizard, even if your magic stinks."
Korath Kag'et, his chanting stopped for the moment, looked at Crayak. "Yes, you are." Then, to the rest of the travelers, "They cannot cross the circle and they cannot live in the light. We have only to wait until morning."
"And do you know what they are? Did you bring them down on us, Stygian?" Haros asked? "We have been crossing these cursed planes for days now and nothing happens. Then we meet you and we are beset!"
"Not I. This is not my doing." said Korath Kag'et. "As for what they are..." he paused in thought, looking at the assembled travelers. "I think they are the Cursed of Tou-Te-Ghan." He watched their faces for signs of recognition. "Do you know what that means?"
"Why don't you tell us what it means, Stygian!" said Haros. "We have no interest in guessing games."
"No, they cannot be." Said Aema. "Those are just stories told to frighten children so they won't wander away at night."
Korath Kag'et laughed...not a pleasant sound. "Stories? So where did the name 'Tou-Te-Ghan' come from in your stories? Why do they tell such stories in Aquilonia and in Stygia?"
Haros looked at Aema. "What stories? I have heard no such stories." Then to Korath Kag'et "Speak, Stygian!" The Aquilonian put his hand on his sword hilt.
Korath Kag'et shook his head in annoyance. "Do not forget who protects you even now, fool! If you would know, then ask your little priestess to tell you a story to frighten children!"
Haros stared at the seated Stygian for a long moment. But the Stygian ignored him and quietly resumed his chanting.
Aema touched Haros on the shoulder. "Let him chant. He is right...he's keeping us alive. Whether these...things...are what he says, I don't know. But I will tell you the story."
Aema moved to the center of the camp, as far away from the edges of the magic circle as possible and sat. Haros followed her. The Cimmerian also moved in a sat with them, though not without a hostile and watchful eye from the Aquilonian warrior. Even the Shemish men moved in closer and listened.
"The story says that there was a powerful wizard long ago named Tou-Te-Ghan. As time passed he grew ever more powerful, sating his lust for more then more then more with terrible rituals and human sacrifice. As he grew older, he came to believe that he was too important to die, that since his power rivaled that of the gods, he should be undying, like the gods.
"So he conceived one, last, terrible spell. A spell which would assure his unending life.
"But, so says the story, life must have a source. When a person is born, there is a certain amount of life that they are given from their parents and they take a certain amount more from the world around them as they eat and drink and breath. If a person lives beyond that...the extra 'life' must come from somewhere.
"It is said that Tou-Te-Ghan, deep though his knowledge of the arcane, did not take this into account. When he cast his spell, at first he believed he had succeeded. Though his palace was destroyed and his servants killed, he had absorbed their 'life' essence and lived on for many years, unknowing of the terrible fate that he had brought down upon himself.
"He came to learn that his servants were not killed, but...emptied. They too were made undying. Shadow people who could only take form in the hours of darkness. They were now mindless, empty shells hungering for the life essence of others to replace what they had lost.
"The spell had bound the remains of Tou-Te-Ghan's servants to him...they could wander, but not far from their master. They could feed, slaking their hunger for life on any living beings unfortunate enough to cross their paths, but whatever life they absorbed would, in turn, be absorbed by their master.
"Tou-Te-Ghan himself faired little better. Not a shade, like his unfortunate servants, the spell nonetheless did not work as he had intended. His aging was slowed, but not stopped. With the passing of the years and decades and centuries, he continued to age, but could not die. At long last, he was a withered, ancient being, a powerful mage, to be sure, but barely able to move, barely able to speak.
"According to the story, at night the the servants of Tou-Te-Ghan, or the 'Cursed of Tou-Te-Ghan' as Korath Kag'et calls them, wander as far as they may in a single night, trying to escape their master, trying to ease their hunger. But each morning they evaporate like the morning dew only to reform around their master the next night.
"Anyone who has the misfortune to encounter one of Tou-Te-Ghan's servants at night will have their life drained out of them and, for one night, will share the same fate, dying at last only with the morning sun."
Aema shrugged and wrapped her robe around herself more closely. "That is the story. But I had heard that Tou-Te-Ghan was in fabled Vendhya, a world away from here."
Korath Kag'et chuckled. "And I have heard the story told that it was in far Khitai. And again that it was in Keshan. And that it was in Turan." The Stygian looked steadily at the young priestess. "But you left out the most interesting part...please finish the tale for our fellow travelers."
Aema looked uneasily at Korath Kag'et, "What do you mean? I left nothing out. That is how it was told to me."
Korath Kag'et shrugged. "Perhaps. My opinion of the education received at the Temples of Mitra has never been high. Allow me to finish the tale."
The Stygian looked at the fires burning on the protective barrier. Satisfied, he spoke. "The tales also suggest that Tou-Te-Ghan was a man of fabulous wealth." He laughed softly. It was not a reassuring sound. "The story says that the spell required one hundred perfect gems of different types. And that Tou-Te-Ghan tested and discarded 20 magnificent gems for each acceptable one that he could use in his spell."
"I had not heard that." said Aema. "Perhaps in Stygia...different things are emphasized."
Korath Kag'et smiled. "No doubt."
"You want to find this place." It was Crayak "To kill the wizard and take what we will. Can he be killed?"
"Oh, yes." The Stygian smiled. "Oh, yes, I assure you. Perhaps not with crude steel, but, yes."
"And what of tomorrow night?" asked Haros, "And the night after that? And the next? What of these 'cursed' if their master dies?"
"I can hold the 'cursed' back. We simply prepare before nightfall." He spoke some low words in Stygian to his servants who went to check on the arcane figures on the ground. Then he continued, "When Tou-Te-Ghan's spell is broken, he will die along with his servants. Then we can take what we may."
"How do we find this place?" It was Tanish.
"And how do we divide what we find?" asked Faramaz.
"We follow your friend, Shemite." said Korath Kag'et.
The two raiders eyes narrowed "What do you mean?"
"The 'cursed' leave no trail, being no more than things of emptiness. But no doubt they have dragged what remains of the good Hamara back to their lair to devour him at leasure." Korath Kag'et's lips twisted into a wicked sneer. "That should be easy to follow."
Aema's face paled. "That's horrible!" She looked around the camp. Even the missing Shemite's own friends seemed unfazed by this gruesome plan.
"Think of it as an opportunity to pray over his remains." said Korath Kag'et. "Meanwhile, I need to rest. Thamot and Mon will watch the circle. Wake me if anything untoward happens."
Permalink
Freeland Crossing - Cont.
The Stygian and the raiders halted their advance on each other. After a moment, the Stygian said "He is right. There is someone...something else here. Out there." He pointed toward the now total darkness where the scream had come from. Staring for a moment into the darkness, Korath Kag'et turned in an instant away from the Shemites, as if they were not there and called to his servants. "Thamot! Mon! Prepare!"
The two servants quickly pulled several things from their master's packs. The set out a rug, four cubits across, hexagonal shape, made of thick material with an ornate design of geometric symbols and carefully laid it on the ground. Korath Kag'et sat himself comfortably in the center of the rug and his servants set a small brazier at each corner of the rug and lit them from the campfire. An acrid odor and bluish smoke rose from each brazier. With his staff across his lap, the Stygian began to chant quietly.
Thamot and Mon took a jar of powder and began tracing lines and symbols in the ground around the camp as the others watched.
For a few moments Aema watched as the servants traced their circles, lines and shapes on the ground. A shape she had been taught to recognize began to take shape.
"No!! You can't!" she yelled, standing up and facing the seated Stygian, with surprising strength in her voice.
Korath Kag'et stopped chanting for a moment and looked at the girl. "I thought as much. No mere pilgrim, are you, girl. A priestess, aren't you. And not a novice either." His lips twisted into a sneer, "Well your soft Mitra will not help us now. What those vulgar raiders or the brutish northman would do to you will pale before your fate if what's out there takes you." Their eyes held for a moment and then the Stygian closed his eyes and went back to his chanting.
When the servants finished drawing the arcane symbols on the ground around the camp, then sat behind their master. He opened his eyes for a moment and spoke to the rest of the travelers. "Do not venture beyond the outer circle of fire, if you value your lives." With that, the lines and symbols on the ground burst into an eerie, sputtering, yellow flame, no more than an inch high but encircling the camp and criss crossing through it.
Beyond the flame a few feet of the swaying grass of the planes were visible, then darkness. Then a shadow, no more than a blot of darkness as high as a child that looked like part of the nighttime darkness itself moved toward the camp. Difficult to see, it blotted out what little could be seen of the grass around it. It moved up to the arcane fire and then back.
To the left, another shadow detached itself from the night and approached the circle. Then another. In a matter of moments there was a soundless host of flickering darklings probing the edge of the camp.
The two remaining Shemish raiders backed toward the center of the camp. "What are they?!?" one asked.
Nobody answered him. The Stygian continued his quiet chant.
"I'm not sure." said Aema. "The might...be..." she paused "I'm not sure." She took the symbol of Mitra from around her neck and held it in her hand. She walked near the edge of the circle and mouthed the words of a prayer she had learned in the safe confines the Temple of Mitra in Tarantia. The symbol in her hand suddenly flashed and the area around the camp was illuminated is if by daylight. The shades shriveled and darted further back into the surrounding night, only to approach again as the sudden light began to fade.
"I'm not sure." she said again. She looked at Haros and made a slight shrug and shook her head. He looked uneasily as the soundless, shapes moved around the edges of the Stygian's circle of flame.
"They are hungry." said the Cimmerian. "We are lucky you are here, wizard, even if your magic stinks."
Korath Kag'et, his chanting stopped for the moment, looked at Crayak. "Yes, you are." Then, to the rest of the travelers, "They cannot cross the circle and they cannot live in the light. We have only to wait until morning."
"And do you know what they are? Did you bring them down on us, Stygian?" Haros asked? "We have been crossing these cursed planes for days now and nothing happens. Then we meet you and we are beset!"
"Not I. This is not my doing." said Korath Kag'et. "As for what they are..." he paused in thought, looking at the assembled travelers. "I think they are the Cursed of Tou-Te-Ghan." He watched their faces for signs of recognition. "Do you know what that means?"
"Why don't you tell us what it means, Stygian!" said Haros. "We have no interest in guessing games."
"No, they cannot be." Said Aema. "Those are just stories told to frighten children so they won't wander away at night."
Korath Kag'et laughed...not a pleasant sound. "Stories? So where did the name 'Tou-Te-Ghan' come from in your stories? Why do they tell such stories in Aquilonia and in Stygia?"
Haros looked at Aema. "What stories? I have heard no such stories." Then to Korath Kag'et "Speak, Stygian!" The Aquilonian put his hand on his sword hilt.
Korath Kag'et shook his head in annoyance. "Do not forget who protects you even now, fool! If you would know, then ask your little priestess to tell you a story to frighten children!"
Haros stared at the seated Stygian for a long moment. But the Stygian ignored him and quietly resumed his chanting.
Aema touched Haros on the shoulder. "Let him chant. He is right...he's keeping us alive. Whether these...things...are what he says, I don't know. But I will tell you the story."
Aema moved to the center of the camp, as far away from the edges of the magic circle as possible and sat. Haros followed her. The Cimmerian also moved in a sat with them, though not without a hostile and watchful eye from the Aquilonian warrior. Even the Shemish men moved in closer and listened.
"The story says that there was a powerful wizard long ago named Tou-Te-Ghan. As time passed he grew ever more powerful, sating his lust for more then more then more with terrible rituals and human sacrifice. As he grew older, he came to believe that he was too important to die, that since his power rivaled that of the gods, he should be undying, like the gods.
"So he conceived one, last, terrible spell. A spell which would assure his unending life.
"But, so says the story, life must have a source. When a person is born, there is a certain amount of life that they are given from their parents and they take a certain amount more from the world around them as they eat and drink and breath. If a person lives beyond that...the extra 'life' must come from somewhere.
"It is said that Tou-Te-Ghan, deep though his knowledge of the arcane, did not take this into account. When he cast his spell, at first he believed he had succeeded. Though his palace was destroyed and his servants killed, he had absorbed their 'life' essence and lived on for many years, unknowing of the terrible fate that he had brought down upon himself.
"He came to learn that his servants were not killed, but...emptied. They too were made undying. Shadow people who could only take form in the hours of darkness. They were now mindless, empty shells hungering for the life essence of others to replace what they had lost.
"The spell had bound the remains of Tou-Te-Ghan's servants to him...they could wander, but not far from their master. They could feed, slaking their hunger for life on any living beings unfortunate enough to cross their paths, but whatever life they absorbed would, in turn, be absorbed by their master.
"Tou-Te-Ghan himself faired little better. Not a shade, like his unfortunate servants, the spell nonetheless did not work as he had intended. His aging was slowed, but not stopped. With the passing of the years and decades and centuries, he continued to age, but could not die. At long last, he was a withered, ancient being, a powerful mage, to be sure, but barely able to move, barely able to speak.
"According to the story, at night the the servants of Tou-Te-Ghan, or the 'Cursed of Tou-Te-Ghan' as Korath Kag'et calls them, wander as far as they may in a single night, trying to escape their master, trying to ease their hunger. But each morning they evaporate like the morning dew only to reform around their master the next night.
"Anyone who has the misfortune to encounter one of Tou-Te-Ghan's servants at night will have their life drained out of them and, for one night, will share the same fate, dying at last only with the morning sun."
Aema shrugged and wrapped her robe around herself more closely. "That is the story. But I had heard that Tou-Te-Ghan was in fabled Vendhya, a world away from here."
Korath Kag'et chuckled. "And I have heard the story told that it was in far Khitai. And again that it was in Keshan. And that it was in Turan." The Stygian looked steadily at the young priestess. "But you left out the most interesting part...please finish the tale for our fellow travelers."
Aema looked uneasily at Korath Kag'et, "What do you mean? I left nothing out. That is how it was told to me."
Korath Kag'et shrugged. "Perhaps. My opinion of the education received at the Temples of Mitra has never been high. Allow me to finish the tale."
The Stygian looked at the fires burning on the protective barrier. Satisfied, he spoke. "The tales also suggest that Tou-Te-Ghan was a man of fabulous wealth." He laughed softly. It was not a reassuring sound. "The story says that the spell required one hundred perfect gems of different types. And that Tou-Te-Ghan tested and discarded 20 magnificent gems for each acceptable one that he could use in his spell."
"I had not heard that." said Aema. "Perhaps in Stygia...different things are emphasized."
Korath Kag'et smiled. "No doubt."
"You want to find this place." It was Crayak "To kill the wizard and take what we will. Can he be killed?"
"Oh, yes." The Stygian smiled. "Oh, yes, I assure you. Perhaps not with crude steel, but, yes."
"And what of tomorrow night?" asked Haros, "And the night after that? And the next? What of these 'cursed' if their master dies?"
"I can hold the 'cursed' back. We simply prepare before nightfall." He spoke some low words in Stygian to his servants who went to check on the arcane figures on the ground. Then he continued, "When Tou-Te-Ghan's spell is broken, he will die along with his servants. Then we can take what we may."
"How do we find this place?" It was Tanish.
"And how do we divide what we find?" asked Faramaz.
"We follow your friend, Shemite." said Korath Kag'et.
The two raiders eyes narrowed "What do you mean?"
"The 'cursed' leave no trail, being no more than things of emptiness. But no doubt they have dragged what remains of the good Hamara back to their lair to devour him at leasure." Korath Kag'et's lips twisted into a wicked sneer. "That should be easy to follow."
Aema's face paled. "That's horrible!" She looked around the camp. Even the missing Shemite's own friends seemed unfazed by this gruesome plan.
"Think of it as an opportunity to pray over his remains." said Korath Kag'et. "Meanwhile, I need to rest. Thamot and Mon will watch the circle. Wake me if anything untoward happens."
Permalink