Outside the Bear's Cave
Part 1: Celeren[edit]
Suequmann the Sunrise Destroying Hammer stepped onto the beach. His head lolled to one side, resting almost lovingly on the fist-thick links of the iron chain draped over his shoulder. The seas foamed and howled behind him, still raging at the memory of his presence, unwilling to be reminded of its eons-forsaken ally. With each step the ancient demon heaved on the chain, which behind him branched into dozens of chains. Suequmann’s neck had bent at that angle ever since it had been shattered by Appointed Blasphemy, swung by Eottra Dyclasm in the Paling Wars at the edge of Dazraban. Behind his grizzled visage, his long white tail twisted in undulous arcs through the many chains that trailed back to a smouldering fleet. Each step he took tore great gouges in the sand of the seashore, bringing him only a few inches farther inland, but with each step he took, three dozen mastless ships were drawn a few inches closer to shore.
At the side of his general, Ledaal Kebok Omeger watched approvingly, confident that his bargain had been well made. The Vermilion Legion had arrived in the Marukan.
“I know how that tree feels.”
High on a seaward walkway of the Celeren Manse, Tepet Ejava was now free to note the plight of a juniper clinging to a rugged promontory north of the city. Blasted by the wind and waves, with barely a fingerhold of purchase for the roots, the withered tree seemed destined to be destroyed at any moment.
“Excuse me, general?” She had not noticed the arrival of her overeager lieutenant, so intently her attention had been diverted.
The Roseblack turned and twisted back a lock of her auburn hair, away from her eyes. “Ah. Lieutenant Virra Amalia. I assume you have important news?”
“Two things. Mayhiros Lyra has requested the particulars regarding the duration of your...”
The general interrupted. “You tell her that as soon as we have the supplies we’ve requested, we’ll be on our way. She claims to be nothing more than a merchant; I assume she’ll see the benefits of having the Red Piss Legion move on.”
Amalia blinked her flame golden eyes. “We’ll be leaving soon?”
“I said nothing of the kind, but that’s what you will tell her. The second thing?” Tepet Ejava turned away from the young woman and rested her hand on Thorn. The strength of the jade was ever renewing.
The young fire aspect shifted uneasily in her lamelar. “There’s a shinobi here to see you... she claims to be an Iselsi...”
“Show her in and dismiss yourself.”
“Sir, if you’re certain that it’s wise, I...”
“That is all, lieutenant.” As she withdrew, the Roseblack reminded herself once again it was the Vermilion Legion, and that she couldn’t expect as much from ex-convicts and found eggs as the shattered legions in which she had served most of her career. She did not have time to muse further on the subject.
“General Tepet.” The rasping voice fell harshly on her ears. Instinctively she walked to the sculpted pink marble railing, looking away from the hideous jade mask. Iselsi Sherem knelt in a crouch three paces behind her and one pace to her left.
“Your instructions were that if and when we were forced to make landfall in Marukan Lands, you should have a report prepared on the situation here. That time has come, in spite of our best efforts.”
“I understand. I have achieved... mixed results.”
Tepet Arada let her head fall forward. “I could use good... Sherem, you smell of rot and brine.”
“That is understandable, as I have spent the last three weeks at the bottom of a salt marsh. I was discovered by one of the anathema’s agents, and they sent their warlord and a pair of heretic monks to root me out. Rather than compromise the mission... I hid.”
“I fail to see how these results can be mixed, since it sounds like you have no information for me whatsoever.”
“I have better than second hand information. Two things I offer you. In three days time the exiled owner of this manse will be arriving. I guarantee he will be useful if you should ever need... native support.”
“His name?”
“He’s lost once, I’m not sure his support is entirely noteworthy.” The Roseblack gripped the hilt of her wavecleaver more tightly in her fist. “Curse it all, Sherem. What would you do? We lost a full dragon in a single day, more than the Lintha claimed in a year! I can’t believe I’m leading the last of our men into another Battle of Futile Blood. Grandfather was right. I should have ignored the orders and slain the messenger.”
“If the situation is so dire, my lady, perhaps you are willing to consider unorthodox alliances?” Sherem’s head tilted up slightly, hidden as always behind black jade filigree.
“Ha. If the immaculate ‘deposition’ that’s traveling with us heard that proposition... or even the overeager lieutenant that brought you here... I’d be dead by dawn. Even if they failed...”
“...which they would...”
“...I could never come within a thousand miles of the Blessed Isle again. They’re just looking for a reason to execute me as is. I see now why Lookshy cared nothing for offering this wretched bargain, or why the anathema were so cavalier about warning us of the Mask’s forces. We’re damned no matter where we turn.”
Sherem shifted noiselessly. “Long have I watched over your career, as I served your grandfather before you, so heed my advice as he once did. I have heard tell of the strength of these anathema. An alliance with them or a stronger pact with Lookshy might turn the tide against the Mask... and the realm.”
“Hmm. How could I reconcile myself to such a treaty? The Mask conquers Thorns, and the anathema conquer the Marukan. Who is to say that one is a lesser evil than the other?”
“I am.” Tepet Ejava whirled to see that a third had joined them on the balcony. The young man was dressed in shredded black cloth that floated about him in tatters, feathered by the breeze. His figure was slim, his face cold but with high spots of bright color on his cheeks and a shock of crested black hair on his head. He gave the general a deep bow and whispered, "Good morning, young wood dragon. I understand you wish to know more about the Solar Exalted that shepherd the Marukan?"
Part 2: Varsi[edit]
There are deep places in the forests of the East, hidden in verdant groves of carnivorous trees, accessed by warded paths, patrolled by the ghosts of those that came before. Woodland streams are as likely to be water as they are bubbling pitch or molten sulfur in her forest, homely comforts for those denizens of malpheas charged to guard there until Gaia herself slouches down to the void and all the stars burn out. In the center of that dark place, surrounded by a fetid moat where crododiles grow man-high at the shoulder, there is a mound of rough stones. If such could be called a house, it is her home, and if a creature were mad enough to approach, they would hear her voice whispering through the cracked basalt, pumice, and obsidian.
"Skin of grass, for the land that spawned him, bones of the plum tree where he made his first fortress. Flesh of ash for the sunfire that fills him, and hair of the horse for his prideful mane. Teeth of stone for the earth he has split..."
She pauses, her gnarled hands suspended over the labor of her hands. It gleams wetly with tallow, blood, and spit.
"...and eyes, eyes of the gorge-leaping tiger, for the worthy foe."
to be continued
