Site 3: Diamond Hearth
Something is following me.
I noticed it in Rathess first. Rahadru and Hokkmashra lead me into many dark places in that city, ruined temples where savage rites were performed (and are still performed). Perhaps the expenditure of so much essence in those abandoned cult shrines was not such a wise choice. In the night, I could sense something outside our little fortified encampment, something beyond the usual cries of ambush and flight of the feral dragons. In the end, that was why I told Leaf Shakes the Wind that I needed to move on to Diamond Hearth. Though loath to leave such strange allies, I felt the attention of something older than even the dragons, and I feared to name it, let alone face it.
I think I had a day of freedom here before it caught up. Last night, when I stepped outside the thin walls of our tent to answer nature, I swear I felt eyes on me from somewhere in the frozen city. I’ve heard the rumors of ghosts in that place, but no ghost could put such fear in my marrow. Only the panoply of oblivion is comparable, and yet so different. This was an active malice. In the keening of the wind I caught myself listening for the whine of Unbreakable Faith, but it remained silent.
I miss the safety of the Retreat. No, I miss the Retreat when it was new, when our foes were few and disinterested, before I had made the second sacrifice and what was left of my family was still whole. By the Sun it is cold here.
-- From the journals of Rivers Between Us, twilight caste sorcerer
Kin[edit]
Erkum Whitedreams was a thick man with pale skin, long fair hair, and a wispy beard braided in a dozen strands with the ends tucked in his belt. When they first met, Rivers had known him for a thaumaturge by the wards that hung his belt, but he still didn’t know the full extent of his abilities. One thing was certain; he knew his way around the frozen halls of Diamond Hearth like no man living.
As they walked through passages of pure, transparent ice, over the halls of palaces buried for over a millennium, the young sorcerer did his best to stay close to his guide and away from his mistress. She did not seem affected by the cold, but then her kind was adapted to dealing with… diverse conditions. Her skin was a pale purple, her lips black as pitch, and her eyes had the same liquid onyx appearance that certain amalgams had accepted. She was a neomah, a demon courtesan, and she totally creeped out Rivers.
Erkum’s husky voice sounded through the hall, echoing eerily through the chill noon air. “This should be a good spot, if you’re looking for old magic. The owner of this hall was a potent anathema sorcerer, one of the big bads. It’s said that in this room he once commanded the souls of Malpheas to attend a masked ball and amuse his guests. Amused they were, at first…”
Rivers clenched a fist before him and closed his eyes. Momentarily, wisps of blue essence began to flit from between his closed fingers and under his thumb, slowly filling the room with ethereal light. Erkum looked at him with barely concealed envy, slowly stroking his beard.
Rivers opened his eyes to the full glory of the hall, but he ignored the ornaments and architecture, instead focusing on the pentagram in the center of the chamber. “That’s definitely no second-circle demon cage. There must be god’s ransom in starmetal just in the essence transformer shields. Maybe your story…”
But at that moment, his voice was drowned out by two simultaneous sounds. One was the sound of Unbreakable Faith screaming its song of doom. The other was a voice that came from Erkum’s side, as the neomah’s head rotated to an impossible angle, tearing its own flesh and bone as it did so. Its mouth opened so wide that the jaw ripped loose as a blast erupted from its open jaws, nearly deafening them and causing the fragile walls of ice around them to crack and groan. Indeed, it spoke, if such a tearing in the fabric of air could be called speech, the howl of a mad god-maker from beyond the edge of creation.
“I see You!”
With those three words the demon burst into black, oily flames, and then collapsed to the ground. Erkum watched in horror for a moment before the ceiling shattered and a block of ice the size of a small house turned him into a thin red sheet. Rivers took to his heels once more.
Duty[edit]
“Why do you hate me?” asked the ghost of Xing Lai. He regarded Leaf Shakes the Wind with a tilt of his head. “I have done nothing to you.”
“I don’t hate you. But your presence in Creation is improper. You should have rejoined the cycle.”
“How is it improper to do one’s duty?” Xing Lai gestured to the cave mouth behind him with his translucent spear. “After my death, no one else was willing to guard this cave. I wounded the beast gravely, but it is not dead. If I leave, more will die.”
“You truly care what happens to the living?”
The ghost laughed loudly, throwing back his head. It was the most human sound Leaf Shakes the Wind had heard yet in Diamond Hearth.
“How could I not care what happens to the living? I took on this duty in life to protect the people of this city, though the beast had slain two other dragonblooded warriors before me. And now, the living are all that sustain me. Or they were, until you arrived.”
Xing Lai's eyes moved to the overturned bowls of blood behind Leaf Shakes the Wind. “Do you think I somehow coerced those from the people here? I can’t step more than a dozen feet from the spot where I stand now. They offer their Essence to me because they know why I am here, and they honor me for it. Who are you to judge that honor as improper?”
“I am the Dagger of Heaven. I protect the people from that which cannot stand the light of the day.”
“If that is truly so, then your business is not with me.”
"I suppose it isn't."
Leaf Shakes the Wind stepped past the ghost and into the cave behind him.
From here on, I’m going to try writing some of my entries in Draconic. Bones Like Jade gave me a small book made of crystal which allows me to write or speak words in Old Realm and have them translated. It helps, but still the language is strange on my tongue and my brush does not flow naturally when I write. If I’m to keep this up, I may have to be frugal with my words.
There’s something wrong with Rivers. His reasons for leaving Rathess were half-truths at best, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, put words to what’s bothering him, no matter how I confronted him. His health is getting worse as well, which for Rivers means it’s very, very bad. The climate here in Diamond Hearth can’t be helping either; I can feel the cold even through my armor. Living here is like living on the bones of the world after the flesh has long rotted away…
-- From the journal of Leaf Shakes the Wind, Night Caste spymaster
