After he passes Garrett through the Trump to Solange, Brennan moves listlessly over to the nearest wall and leans against it-- fists against the wall, head down, eyes shut, breathing hard. Rigid. A few minutes later, he forces his fists open, and turns around to steady himself with his back to the wall. Head still down. Still breathing hard. Another act of will-- he raises his head and takes a deep breath. No tears. None. With a final act of pure will, he pushes himself off the wall, scrubs his face and hair with his hands, and gets back to his business.
He inspects the barrel again, rather mechanically, thumping the outside to check its soundness then checking inside to make sure it's water tight. Then he brings it over to where Daeon's blood came to rest in the tough container her made out of air during his battle with Eater. He lifts the blood's container gingerly, almost reverently, and puts it inside the little barrel, and dissolves the Sorcerous one with a wave of his hand and seals the mundane one over it. "Rest easy, Daeon," he whispers, not to the blood, but to the air. "I'll take you home, again."
That done, he forces himself to make one more survey of the room: Is there anything interesting remaining? Specifically, is there a level below this one? Even if there is no obvious visible passage, Brennan looks with his Third Eye and then extends his sight to the Astral plane.
The contents of the room look like a museum after a particularly brutal earthquake. There are many, many, delicate objects smashed beneath large blocks of stone. There is a great deal of broken glass. If one was interested in the comparative archaeology of the region, one would be quite distressed by the damage here.
Oddly, the hole from which Brennan and Eater fell is no longer there.
In the same way that the tower is shielded from the outside against casual astral sight, the levels above and below this one are as well. Either that, or they are non-contiguous.
There are stairs down, which Red Fox Claws and Dignity took.
Brennan takes a last look around, and considers strongly leaving some sort of note or warning to future occupants of the place, but decides against it. Anything weak enough to ignore it won't pose a problem; anything confident and strong enough to ignore it would only use the warning as a reason to fortify.
Hefting the barrel under one arm, he walks down the stairs, his mask firmly in place. He stops at the threshold, and looks at Dignity and Red Fox Claws, addressing them both. "Garrett and I received word from home that the Princess Cambina is dead," he says, flatly. "Garrett has gone back directly. Dignity, you and I will return soon, but we have a stop to make first, if we can. Tomorrow, you'll find suitable garb for a funeral in your bags. Wear it, until further notice." Then, looking at the older man, he says, "Red Fox Claws. Follow us, if you want to see Signy. She happens to be my cousin, and there is a great likelihood that she will be at the Princess' funeral."
Dignity looks sad and Red Fox Claws nods.
Brennan doesn't really wait for an answer. Red Fox Claws arrived on his own horse, and Garrett brought Dignity's back, so Brennan finds his own, mounts up, and gets the little barrel secured. Then he sets a stiff pace back to the Dvartish stronghold. He is not in a talkative mood, and intends to be there by nightfall.
For the most part, Red Fox Claws rides with Dignity, the two of them discussing any number of old soldier's concerns. Dignity manages to hold his own, but it's clear that Red Fox Claws considers him to be very young.
As it becomes clear that they are approaching the Dvartish hills, Red Fox Claws rides closer to Brennan. "The Dvarts want my head. I'm willing to go there, if you two men will back me, but if not, I need to wait without."
"They can't have it," Brennan says. "What do they want it for?"
He slows to hear the answer-- it might cause him to turn Red Fox Claws away-- and directs Dignity to break the banner out of the pack. It bears the same device as is on his shield, the same he fought under at the Courts of Chaos: A Tower on a plain featureless plain, struck by lightning from a clear moonlit sky. It is differenced, now, as befits a Knight Commander of the Order of the Ruby. If Brennan likes Red Fox Claws' answer, he'll bear the banner, in as visible a sign of Brennan's protection as is possible in these circumstances.
Red Fox Claws smiles wolfishly. "Killing Dvarts, mostly. They have long memories. They were Lord Weyland's second-to-last line of defence. There are plenty of the little moles who will be my servants in the next world."
As Brennan expected. His eyes narrow, as Dignity continues to unpack the banner and assemble it into a standard. "Hear me, Red Fox Claws. That war ended the very first day I set foot on these plains, and it is still over. It does not serve my purposes. If you can comport yourself properly into formerly hostile and still sensitive territory, then pick up that standard and carry it. The Dvarts already know it."
If Red Fox Claws does as Brennan expects, Brennan will pick up the pace and intends to ride back to the Dvartish stronghold in silence... and vigilance.
Red Fox Claws does as Brennan expects and holds the banner at a jaunty angle as he rides.
Perhaps an hour before Brennan expects to arrive at the Dvartish stronghold, they come to an armed party at a river crossing. Given the terrain, there's no way to avoid being seen, but the guards don't seem inclined to leave their station.
"There are crossings further east," says Red Fox Claws, "but if they're here, they're likely there as well." He spits on the ground. "Aelfen."
Brennan slows their pace, so he can survey the group they're approaching, and talk to Red Fox Claws.
"Heard of them," Brennan says. "But not much. Never seen one. Tell me about them. Including whatever it is that causes them to be in my way, if you have a good guess."
And how many of them are there?
Two standing. They have a very liquid way of moving. Like Moonriders.
"There's more out sight, if you're thinking of taking the ford. They can hide behind a blade of grass. They're not so civilized as the Dvarts. More like heroes, but not so tamable. They don't work for anyone. It's their strength and their weakness."
Brennan stares in their direction, and does not seem to like what he sees. As he squints with his physical eyes, he opens his third eye wider and then extends it into the Astral plane. Nothing fancy or involved-- he's just trying to get an estimate of how many more might be hanging around by the signs of life in the Astral Plane. And anything else that might happen to jump out at him.
There are two more in the river, and places within earshot that might hide a dozen more.
While he's doing that, he asks Red Fox Claws, "What did they do during the Black Road Wars? And the Tower War?"
Red Fox Claws looks over at them. "It wasn't really a war, not properly. Lady Signy didn't have a tower of her own. They stayed out of our way, except when we got into the forests. That's about what I recall about the Black Road War, too. Nobody knows what happened in the forest. They didn't ask for help, and we didn't go offering."
Brennan's scowl does not change. "And yet, here they are, out of their forests, standing in my way." He gives a small growl in the back of his throat, then, "All right, then. I am pressed for time, so let's see if we can get past them with minimum wasted time... but we are going to pass this river and meet up with the Dvarts, again, so be ready."
He kicks Four Iron back to a reasonable pace, then adds, "If you think they need to be taken down a notch, feel free to point out the ones hiding under the water." Brennan does not draw a weapon, but he's certainly ready to at a moment's notice.
Red Fox Claws' nostrils flare, but he doesn't say anything.
As they approach the ford, an elf turns to face them. He speaks clearly, but sibilantly. "Hold, warriors. What business have you north of the Esk?"
"I've upheld my part of a bargain to the south of it, and go to claim my payment. Who are you, and what business have you blocking the ford?"
He seems unsurprised. "We war with the Dvarts. Are you mercenary soldiers? My lord may want to hire you if you are." Red Fox Claws sits up straighter.
"I am otherwise engaged," Brennan says. "After I claim my payment, I ride for lands far from here, to attend the funeral of one dear to me. Why do you war with them?"
"Not voluntarily, warrior. They have no honor and have stolen from us, under the guise of friendship. I would advise not going forward. First, you should assume that they will kill you rather than pay any debt they have incurred. Second, if they do not out of fear of your prowess, you can assume that they will attempt to cheat you."
Brennan gives a frosty smile. The last thing he's worried about is being attacked by the Dvarts.
"Third, they are under siege and it would be unsafe to be under the ground when their mountain falls on their heads."
He looks at the three of them. "What payment do they owe you?"
"That's between the Dvarts and I," Brennan says firmly and with mild annoyance. He's surprised they've waited this long to ask.
"But I have no particular need to hoard that knowledge. I will tell you, if you answer me two questions: First, tell me what they've stolen, that I do not accidentally posess stolen property as payment." Brennan waits for that answer, since he doubts they will have any reservations about airing their grievance and protecting their assets at the same time.
"Second, I came to this land not to aid the Dvarts, but for an audience with Weyland the Smith. Tell me what you know about him, his appearance in these lands, and most importantly, his departure, for I seek him still."
"They have stolen the infant son of the queen of Aelfland. It is an offense punishable by death, once we rescue him. As to the second, while I wish I could tell you that his head was on a pike and his body in an unmarked grave, we do not know where the Smith is. We are pleased that he is missing, as any creature is to find that a noisome parasite has departed.
"Will those answers do?"
"They will. What they owe me is the traditional payment: Service, at a time and place of my choosing."
Then Brennan's expression hardens, and he overrides whatever derision the Aelf may wish to pour on that notion. "Kidnapping is a crime among my people, as well. That is no part of my bargain with them. Hear me, Aelf: I make no promises, and I have no time to unravel a thousand years of Aelf-Dvart feuding. My time here is short, but if time permits and the situation warrants perhaps I will see the child returned to you. In which case, you will all owe me a service.
"As to Weyland, don't be so happy. His absence draws other occupants to his Tower, whose neighborship I think you would enjoy far less. I've already evicted one such from this world, though if it comes back, be sure to avoid it. It may travel by the name of Robin Goodfellow."
Brennan makes a move to begin crossing the river. "What are you called, Aelf, that I may ask after you if I should pass this way again? And the names of the Queen and her son, for my discussions with the Dvarts?" Brennan leaves an artful ambiguity in his inflection of the word 'discussions.'
The Aelf shrugs. "We are, I believe, different from you in how we define our selfhoods. "I" and "not I" are more fluid for us. Names are a tool of more quantified thinking beings, one we only use for convenience with you. Names are given only when we leave the forest. The child is now called Raptado." The water behind the elf ripples upward and down. "Any Aelf can help you, or approach our woods and speak and we will answer."
From the body language they're showing, Dignity and Red Fox Claws consider this answer to be so much horse dung.
The Aelf continues. "As to the Dvarts, I suggest you take any payment they owe you quickly. You may pass, if you will."
Brennan shares Dignity's and Red Fox Claws' skepticism at the Aelf's denial of personal personhood... but not to as great a degree. He's already seen more things in Order and Chaos than are dreampt of in their philosophies. He merely arches an eloquent eyebrow, as if to ask, Of what use, then, a Queen and a Son? but he doesn't press it. Instead, as he regards the Aelf that last time, and as he directs his gaze to the river, as he was no doubt intended to do, he extends his sight briefly into the Astral plane, again. He is looking for something very specific-- he is looking for an Astral connection, or evidence of one, that would support some of what the Aelf says. It's only a glance, and whatever the results of his viewing are, his actions are the same: He crosses, saying, "I will."
Astrally, they remind Brennan of trees. More than other people remind Brennan of trees, at least. It's like they have roots, but only to his third eye.
"Warrior! I cannot foretell the time our vengeance will strike, but I urge you not to tarry. If you would be neutral, wear a red ribbon on your left arm when we are attacking and you will be spared, as long as you do not violate neutrality."
Brennan makes no verbal response, but does give a martial salute as he rides past, to show that he's heard.
Barring misfortune, he continues the ride to the Dvartish lands, letting Dignity and Red Fox Claws stay vigilant behind them, while Brennan continues to watch forward.
After a few more hours of riding, Brennan can see where the Dvarts hailed him from when he first approached. They do not look as if their citadel is under siege.
On the other hand, they have not yet hailed him, and treeish Aelfs might be inclined to make a siege from another, less visible direction.
Brennan hasn't put on a red ribbon, but during the ride he has taken the preliminary precaution of conjuring the required accessories for himself, Dignity, and Red Fox Claws-- and informing the others-- in case they need them later. The Amber card has been shuffled to the front of the deck, as well.
When they arrive, Brennan takes a closer look around the entry to the citadel, and if there are no signs of life, he bellows out, "Castellan Lorcan! Sir Brennan returns!" If there is no response, he makes a thorough investigation, trying to figure out why. In all of this, he exercises caution, because Robin Goodfellow might still be about.
After a wait that seems almost too long, a head appears over the rampart, wearing a helmet. "The citadel is closed to outsiders by order the Castellan!" The head drops back down.
Red Fox Claws' brow furrows. "That doesn't make sense."
Brennan's eyes narrow dangerously, but he bites back his first angry response. Instead, he turns his head marginally to Red Fox Claws-- he's listening for the explanation of that remark before, quite possibly, he does the Aelfs' work for them and tears the citadel down around Dvartish ears.
Red Fox Claws thinks for a moment. "We didn't pass an army of Aelfs, or at least not that I saw. The gate is closed, but it's not bristling with warriors ready to fire upon charging enemies. I don't know of another Dvartish gate, so I have no idea where they're fighting."
Brennan looks more directly at Red Fox Claws for a long moment, before saying, "The Aelf are a forest people, the Dvarts a mountain people. They're fighting where trees and rock always fight-- under the ground, stone roots against wood. But I'm beginning to wonder just how long we spent in that Tower."
There's another long moment, during which Brennan audibly grinds his teeth and thinks furiously. "We really don't have time for this nonsense," he says. "Only my suspicion that what now calls itself Robin Goodfellow may be behind this is keeping me here."
He surveys both of them-- the older, but seasoned Red Fox Claws, and the younger but somewhat wounded Dignity. Which of them seems better able to fight, if pressed? He also shuffles out his Trump of Amber, but does not yet activate it.
Brennan thinks Dignity would edge Red Fox Claws, but not every time and perhaps only if they were duelling.
Dignity nods. "Yes. It shows up in the forest, eats the baby as a snack, and drops into the stone when the Aelfs object. That'd send them to war with the undergrounders."
Brennan nods approvingly after Dignity speaks, and, very uncharacteristically for him, hesitates and then reverses a decision he thought he'd already made. "You're going to make a fine Knight, someday, Dignity." Then he gestures for both of them to dismount, and follows suit. "Tie the horses together so they can be led by one man," he says, and lets the young man get to his task.
Dignity dismounts, looking pleased with himself.
Then he turns to Red Fox Claws. Brennan doesn't bother keeping his voice down; Dignity can listen in and comment if he really has something to say. "This is a day for taking chances, it seems. Red Fox Claws, I'm going to send you somewhere in a moment, and you're going to lead the horses and some baggage there, with you. You're going to a place called Castle Amber, and once you're there, you can't get back here without my help, or someone like me. And even then, you may find you've been gone for a hundred years."
Brennan pauses to see if Red Fox Claws has heard of Amber.
nope! Maybe 70 years ago or something. Not in any way that shows.
"The Lady Signy is someone like me. She is my cousin and I brought her with me to Amber the last time I went. She might not be there right now, but you'll be closer than you are now, and there will be those who can help you go that last mile if she's somewhere else. In exchange, you're going to do something for me," he says. "I'll provide you with two letters, one for any castle staff you might meet or even better, a Knight of the Order of the Ruby, and one for members of the ruling family-- my Family. You'll see that the horses are stabled; the grooms will know Four Iron, anyway. And you'll take this small cask," he reaches out and thumps the side of it, "and place it, with your own hands, in my quarters, in the castle. Do not open it. Do not allow it to be opened." He underscores that with aggressive eye contact, and an unstated threat of Brennan's extreme displeasure.
"After that, you're free to enjoy the hospitality of the castle and find Signy. Will you do that?"
While Red Fox Claws thinks that over, or asks questions, Brennan takes out a small writing tablet, some paper, and a pen, and writes two quick notes, just a few deft sentences each.
Red Fox Claws hesitates for a second, then nods.
Brennan raises an eyebrow at the man's lack of questions-- if he hadn't taken the man's measure already, he might think he's a bit dim. But, charitably, Brennan chalks it up to decisiveness, and perhaps an old mortal's lack of anything left to lose in this place. Since Red Fox Claws answered so quickly, he'll have to suffer a few moments of silence while Brennan writes his two notes, one to the castle staff and/or a Knight of the Ruby, the other to Family. As he finishes the first, he seals it with a dribble of wax and his own signet ring, then hands it to Red Fox Claws, saying, "This is a brief introduction to the castle staff. You will probably be stopped when you appear, so give this to them. It also serves as an introduction to any Knights of the Order of the Ruby, of which I am Knight Commander. They will give you what assistance you need. You can recognize a Knight of the Order by this difference on their arms," he adds, and gestures to his own shield.
Castle Staff, or Knight of the Order of the Ruby,This man, Red Fox Claws, serves Amber and the Order of the Ruby. He is to place a parcel in my quarters, with his own hands, and then depart to enjoy the hospitality of the Castle for so long as he desires. Give him what assistance and escort he requires.
--By my order,
Sir Brennan, Knight Commander of the Order of the Ruby.
There is then another moment of silence while Brennan composes the second note, which he seals and hands to Red Fox Claws saying, "This is an introduction to my Family. When you've placed the cask in my quarters, then, if Signy is not present, you should ask to be delivered to the King or the Regent, which will be an aunt or an uncle of mine. It may be a while, but it will be the best way to bring yourself to her attention, or be taken the last leg of the journey."
Uncle, or Aunt,This man, Red Fox Claws, has performed a service for Amber and for the Order of the Ruby. He is also known to Prince Garrett and is a trusted associate of Signy. I believe that Signy would appreciate his presence, his counsel, and news of her home. I have told him he may enjoy the hospitality of the castle until that reunion, or until he moves on.
--Brennan, KCOR
Finally, he produces a piece of chalk and quickly sketches on the cask his own device, the lightning-struck tower. It is stylized, in the same fashion as his signet, taking no more than a dozen quick strokes, but should be recognizable, especially to his fellow knights. A moment later, he adds a quick sketch of the device he had put on Daeon's ring-- the branching antlers.
Only then, if there are still no questions, does Brennan take out his Trump of Amber and pass Red Fox Claws, the horses, and all their baggage less what he and Dignity will carry themselves, through the Trump gate. "Tell Signy we need to talk about her father," are his only words to Red Fox Claws.
Red Fox Claws nods and steps through and is gone.
If that happens with no untoward event, Brennan looks back at the Dvartish stronghold to see if all this has provoked a response.
Dignity looks back at the stronghold as well. "Funny. I can't decide if he's scared of the Eater or doesn't care what hell you send him to as long as this Signy is there."
Brennan grunts, "I don't think he's the type that scares easily. But I don't think it's blind love for Signy-- he's an old man, now, in a life that probably doesn't make him many close friends. What can he have left, here?" It's a rhetorical question that Dignity is far too young to answer anyway, so Brennan turns his attention to the beleaguered Dvart up on the rampart, who may or may not have been watching this display of mystical transportation with rapt attention:
"Hello, the rampart! We may be able to help with your Aelfish situation! Let us in, and bring us to the Castellan!"
"Lay down your arms and approach!"
A very small door at the base of the gate cracks open a fraction.
Brennan rolls his eyes, and answers street theater with street theater.
He begins to lay down weapons, and motions Dignity to do the same. It's a rather exaggerated display, with the help of some judicious conjuring, as Brennan drops more weapons than he had actually been carrying an hour before. Dignity, likewise, will find a few more weapons than he might have thought he had, at Brennan's direction. There are two reasons for this: First, to give Dignity a little confidence that, in laying down weapons, he's not really disarming himself. Second, to convince the Dvart of his good intentions.
Dignity speaks quietly to Brennan while he disarms. "I'll be annoyed if I don't get that sword back. It was my brother's."
Brennan nods, but does not that instant do anything about it.
What they do not give up, though, are the weapons that Lorcan provided and that Brennan had subsequently enchanted. He spent too much time on those to let them go easily. And so, carrying the hammers gingerly, with intentionally awkward and non-threatening grips, Brennan and Dignity approach. When they're in a more conversational range, Brennan says with some amount of impatience, says, "We lain down our arms, but we're not laying down these. These are actually yours. The Castellan Lorcan put them in our hands, and we're not giving them up except to Lorcan or his successor." Brennan holds his up so that the Dvart behind the door can see them, but although the grip is awkward for fighting, it is a firm grip nevertheless. He does not relinquish it.
If the Dvart hesitates, Brennan adds, "Is this really the time to be turning away two Heroes you've previously been on good terms with?"
"No, Heroes, but it is the time to be cautious. Our foes are masters of illusion and would trick us at this gate if it gave them advantage." The speaker is a middle-aged Dvart, who is just arriving as Brennan and Dignity enter. "Thank you, Bruxelle," he says to the Dvart at the gate, please return to your watchpost." The younger Dvart bows and leaves.
"I apologize for your reception, I was away from the gate. I am Gilcan, and I will take you to my grandfather."
"All is forgiven, Gilcan, if you give me a thumbnail sketch of everything that has happened in our absence, while my squire hurries and gets his family heirloom from the pile over there. This hold seemed to be at peace, then."
Brennan doesn't really give Gilcan much of an option-- he nudges Dignity to get get his blade, and plants himself immoveably in the gateway in that slouching-at-attention style he mastered quite some time ago.
Dignity goes, and Gilcan briefly considers objecting, but acquiesces as if he had a choice. "No need in leaving it out in the wet."
Gilcan is wise.
He turns back to Brennan. "The tree-lovers sent a demon down their thieving roots and followed with a full assault. We have fought back with spear and with fire, but our homes are imperiled."
This is nothing less than what Brennan expected.
When Dignity returns, Brennan says to him, "Stay close. As in, close enough I can reach out and grab you if I need to. And start carrying that hammer like you might need to use it, again." Brennan does likewise, favoring a short grip that promises accuracy.
To Gilcan, he says, "Walk and talk at the same time. And tell me two things as we do that: Tell me everything you can about this demon-- what it looks like, what it can do, what it's done, what it sounds like-- everything of importance or out of the ordinary. And tell me if the Aelfs have made any attempt to parley. Tell me all this while you're taking me to the Castellan."
Gilcan leads the way.
"We have not seen the demon in half a tennight, since the start of this. They were not able to keep it conjured for long, but it had done the job by then, raising a vein of confusion and panic amongst the dvartish peoples. It went to the heart of the mountain. The Aelfs are like those touched by forgefumes, fighting like madmen. They like not our homey tunnels and caves.
"We have a standstill at the Aleph's banks. They cannot cross the river but we cannot push them back above it. They probe elsewhere, but cannot break out, nor can we evict them from their incursion."
Gilcan brings Dignity and Brennan to a structure that looks both natural and dvart-made. Inside is a long hall. Lorcan comes up to greet Brennan. The war has been hard on him. He's lost a leg, recently. Few men would be back in charge so quickly after that.
"Ah, Hero, what news? We could use some that is good."
"I've been inside Weyland's Tower and come back, but you have more pressing problems I might be able to help with. Let's start with this: I need a good description of this demon, from an eyewitness. If that's not either of you, then either summon one or take me to one, whichever is faster," Brennan says. "Pardon my brusqueness," he adds, "but none of us have much time.
"And then, I need to ask a nonsense-sounding question: How long have we been away at the Sorceror's Tower? Space minds its own rules in that place, and I expect Time does as well."
"You were gone less than a third of a season, Hero. Seven times seven tides. As for the demon, I saw it myself, when it took my leg. It was closer to me than you were, close enough for me to taste of the rock it was born from."
Brennan shoots a glance to Dignity, but does not otherwise respond.
"I was in our highest mine shaft, far from our homes and as close to the surface as we ever want to be. It was a tricky bit of mining, I can say, as we had detected traces of a rare ore in the vicinity and hoped to find and acquire it quickly and without disturbing our neighbors.
"There was an unnatural rumbling and the cathedral of the shaft collapsed. A type 5 collapse of magnitude 2 or 3, I'd guess. Two of our younger Dvartlings were crushed by soil, which bodes ill for them in the next life.
"The soil heaved and the demon stepped out. It ran straight at us. I bade it 'halt', but it did not listen, running through and over me, crushing my leg under its own foot. The rock was like nothing of this world, and tasted of lightning and pepper oil. A bitter thing.
The next moment was pandemonium. Aelfs poured down the opening the demon had opened for them. It was gone, but it had led them to our tunnels. We defended ourselves, but with my injury and the loss of the Dvartlings and the creature at loose in our home, we retreated. The Aelf's pressed on, and eventually we re-grouped in the upper residencies. The fighting continues there as we speak."
Lorcan puts his hand on his leg-stump. "Is that description adequate, Hero?"
"It doesn't tell me what the thing looks like, but it gives me the information I need. Take me to the front of the fighting-- we're going to put an end to this." Brennan is not in much of a mood to be delayed by obstreperous Dvarts, either. "You can tell me what the thing looks like along the way. You can tell me if it left a trail after it left your territory, too, and where it might have been headed."
If they do begin to lead him to the front, then once they seem to be getting close, Brennan will put a red ribbon from his pocket, hand it to Dignity, then pull another and fasten it around his left arm.
"As near as we can tell it followed our richest ores to the heart of the mountain and it may still be there yet. One of our problems is that we have patrols looking to make sure it doesn't come back."
Brennan decides to use his out-loud voice: "Do the patrols come back?" he mutters.
"So far. We've seen signs of the creature, but nothing more. We're spread thin and that also makes the Dvarts nervous. It all may be jumping at shadows."
Lorcan takes a twisted, blackened stick and props it under his arm. He hobbles forward on this crutch and leads the way further in. Shortly, they turn a corner into a large open cavern with small box-like buildings in no obvious pattern packed in like an explosion of children's blocks.
"This is The Runnels. It used to be part of the mine works, but it played out and now it's where our poorest Dvarts live... Lived. Now it's a battlefield.
Indeed, there are many twisty little alleys below and there are obvious roadblocks and fortifications in both directions. The battle has pivoted, with the Dvarts advancing on the deosil fronts while retreating on the widdershins flank. There's no obvious central front.
Brennan surveys this long enough to get a sense of who is winning, and how stable and defensible that victory is likely to be. He also looks to see if there is a concentration of Aelfs somewhere that might be serving as an officer or command corps, or if their mode of consciousness prevents or obviates that.
It's a meatgrinder. Neither side has an advantage, but both have defensible positions they can fall back to. The Aelfs don't seem to have any central command.
Although his normal battlefield bellow is strong and stentorian, Brennan has no illusion that simply shouting into a field of battle would have any useful effect. Therefore, Brennan makes a subtle but useful working of Entropy. Ordinarily, as soon as a shout leaves anyone's mouth, it begins losing strength-- the air absorbs some, the walls, the objects in the way, all of these dissipate the strength of it, and at the same time, that diminishing energy is spreading out over a wider and wider volume. With a twist of local laws, Brennan undoes these effects for the duration of his shout. In Uxmal, they'd call it a Godvoice, although Brennan doesn't bother dressing it up with the overtones and subharmonics that Brand might have done. He'll settle for every combatant on the field experiencing the sound of Brennan's shout as though his lips brushed at every ear. Every ear, on both sides of everyone's head; even the combatant's heads won't block or diminish his cry.
"HEAR ME!"
Brennan gives the briefest of pauses to let them all realize that in this, they have no choice. They will hear him.
The silence after the Godvoice is almost as shocking as the noise itself. The fighting is stopped, at least temporarily, to listen to Brennan.
Continuing in the Godvoice:
"I am Sir Brennan, son of Brand, son of Oberon, King of Amber! I am Knight Commander of the Order of the Ruby, peacebringer to Weyland and Signy, here under the ribbon of neutrality! Put down your weapons! Fall back! Aelfs, send a representative to parley with Castellan Lorcan and I! I have knowledge you all require!"
The sounds of battle do not resume.
If the Aelfs send a representative, Brennan will put his hand on Lorcan's neck and walks with him to meet the Aelf half way. He allows Dignity to come with, but otherwise keeps the number of Aelfs and Dvarts balanced-- if an Aelf comes alone, then Gilcan may not accompany.
Two Aelven warriors approach. Brennan cannot tell if they are male or female. Both look young enough to be squires. Underground, their eyes seem to be solid black throughout.
This is fortunate, since the parties will be balanced: Two Alefs, two Dvarts (since Brennan allows Gilcan to accompany Lorcan) and two Men (since Brennan will not allow Dignity to be left behind.)
"Ah, Sir Brennan. Our brother tells us you are courteous and difficult to divert. Did you receive your payment from the Dvarts?" The word Dvart seems to drip with casual contempt.
"Immaterial," Brennan says. "I am not here as Hero to the Dvarts, I am here under a ribbon of neutrality. But convey my respects to your brother. Now, if I understand the Dvarts correctly, this is the first parley since the fighting began, yes? Let's get something basic out of the way, shall we?" Brennan keeps his focus on the Aelfs, and asks, "Why don't you tell us why you're here? But humor me, and do it in a peculiar way: Tell me only what was seen and experienced by the Aelfs directly, not the hearsay and the latter interpretations. Only the direct sensory impressions."
The Aelfs may not see exactly what Brennan is getting at, but he has three goals for the Aelfs' statement, in order of decreasing priority: First, to avoid the Aelfs' bluntly telling their story as an accusation of, "The Dvarts ate our baby." Second, to get a good physical description of what took their Heir. Third, to keep the Dvarts from yelling back-- they'll get their turn. Brennan is not afraid to firmly redirect the conversation to achieve that, but while he may cut them off (he'll try not to) he will absolutely not actually put words in their mouth. The descriptions must be their own, not Brennan's expectations.
"As you wish, Sir Brennan. We will engage you in formal diplomacy."
The Aelfs nod in unison and the two of them speak in unison as well. Their cadence is identical, although the second one seems to have a slightly smaller vocal range. Brennan would be hard pressed to determine which spoke what part. It's as if they were not the same Aelfs who stepped up in the first place.
"A wind from the west
Disturbing the soil below
Black and Grey and Loud
"A burning stone dvart
Came to the heart of Aelfland
Warily we watched
"It stood athwart him
On the Sacred Burrow, while
Aelfs armed for battle
"Her majesty came
Arrayed for peace or fighting
The Monster cared not
"The attack was swift
Our weapons could not touch it
We knew much sorrow
"A worse despair came
It burrowed into the mound
Many died in vain
"Soon the Dvart was gone
So, too Raptado's birth-shell
But it left a path
"This crime we dispute
The Prince is ours by birth-right
We want our Prince back
Both Aelfs nod again, in unison.
"Sad tale, well spoken.
Amber grieves with the Aelf Queen
For the loss of heir."
Brennan emulates the nod of the Aelfs when he finishes his formal reply, then turns to Lorcan and Gilcan, and says, "Lorcan, would you tell your story, as the Aelfs have done? Tell them only what was seen and experienced." As Lorcan has given no indications of being a stupid Dvart, Brennan doesn't expect he will have to restrain, refocus, or interrupt very much.
The Dvart nods. "I'll tell it," He steps forward. "The mine chiefs below, the deep ones, they saw signs that indicated that there was a Narrol--a stone of rare and mystic properties, forming in this area. We sent experienced minehands to recover it. It was slow work, requiring much care. It was close enough to the surface that we were approaching the soil above the rock.
"We had found the Narrol and were preparing to remove it when the creature, the rock simulacrum, burst through the vault above and took the Narrol. Behind him came dozens of armed elves, and they began to attack. We defended ourselves.
"The monster disappeared."
He stops. "We don't have anything of theirs, Sir Brennan. If they leave now, they may take their dead and wounded with them."
The Aelfs do not appear to be listening, or at least not responding.
"No," Brennan says, "Nor did they summon this thing against you. Now hear my version of this story:
"As the Aelfs said, this thing with a superficial resemblance to a Dvart, which we can call a demon for lack of a better word, came to their forest and took their heir. They resisted, with great loss of life, and probably to little effect. When it left, it dove through the soil and then through the rock tunneling until it came upon your warrens. This is where the Dvarts resisted, with great loss of life and little effect, until the demon left again in search of this Narrol.
"But then the Aelfs, in pursuit, poured out of the tunnel that the demon left and ran directly into the armed Dvarts. Both sides armed, both sides bloodied." Brennan gestures to the battleground all around them. "And this was the result."
He pauses a beat to let that sink in, but then continues:
"If the Aelfs leave, that solves the problem of Aelfs and Dvarts killing each other. It does not solve the problem of this demon, which I will call Robin Goodfellow, coming back and taking whatever it wishes in the future. What reason do any of you have to believe that you can defeat it alone, in the light of the last month? In light of the fact that it will be stronger the next time by virtue of what it has taken from you, and you are weaker for your bitter fighting?"
The two aelfs look at each other and recite again.
We will withdraw now
If old agreements still hold
Keep below the roots
We have one request
We must recover our dead
Those fallen heroes.
Lorcan sighs. "Assuming we accept this, what should we do about this demon? As you said, it is not a problem we can resolve without help."
Lorcan's assistant at least seems to have started studying the Aelfs. He says, softly enough that only Lorcan can hear him, that there's an advantage to just killing the Aelfs.
Brennan gives the Aelfs a nod of permission without waiting for Lorcan to reconsider, much less Gilcan.
"What I propose is an alliance: Lorcan, two of your best warriors, armed with stone crushing hammers, as well as your knowledge of the tunnels and the battleground. Legates, four of your best warriors, armed with bows. All of these in support of my squire Dignity and myself-- this creature is kin to those that invaded from the farther end of the Black Road, and my Knights have encountered it before. Dignity and I were both there at the end of the Black Road war, and at the end of the Road itself, and we have some experience of fighting these things.
"At the end, let the Aelfen people owe a debt to the Dvarts, and the Dvartish people a debt to the Aelfs. And on some future date, I may come back and demand a service of you both-- or your descendants."
If they agree, Brennan makes a point of having Lorcan select the Dvartish representatives, not Gilcan.
"To Retrieve Our Dead
To Recover the Lost Prince
To Fight, we agree."
Lorcan thinks for a moment, and then agrees. "Aye. It shall be done."
Two Aelfs step up almost immediately and they hand bows to the first two. They do not speak.
Lorcan sends Gilcan to fetch two younger Dvarts. Lorcan introduces them as his grandsons, Aldar and Dirdan. They are young and look strong and carry large hammers.
"The boys know where the creature was last spotted, Hero," says Lorcan.
"How shall we proceed?" ask two of the Aelfs.
"First, I tell you what you need to know about this demon," Brennan says. "This demon speaks with the voice, and even the memories, of those it consumes. If your Prince was old enough to speak, it may use his voice, or the voice of any Dvarts it has eaten. It has already spoken to me in the voice of my cousin, though I doubt it will make that mistake again. Do not be deceived." He looks the Aelf emissaries in the eyes and says, "I will not offer you false hope. I doubt we will recover your Prince. Also, even if parts of this creature are cut off, the pieces sometimes continue to fight."
The Aelfs seem quite agitated by the description.
"So here is the plan: When we find the demon, I may parley briefly with it. I do not expect that to go far, and when that fails, I will engage it. I have traded blows with it before, and I am more now than I was then. My intent will be simple," he says, gesturing with the axe-hammer that Lorcan had given him previously. "I am going to try and hack it to pieces. But those pieces may try to attack me, or to run off and cause mischief elsewhere. If they remain on the ground, I want Aldar and Dildan to crush them and scatter them. There is a point beyond which the fragments lose their potency and intelligence. If there are many, or if the shards are winged or fly, I the Aelfs to bring them down with their arrows, and protect the Dvarts. Make two teams-- a Dvart and two Aelfs on each.
"That leaves you, Dignity. You're the coordinator, here. As I take off a piece, kick it to one team or the other. If they're both occupied, handle it. If one team needs help, give it. If I need help, give it. If something needs doing, do it." He gives the young man a quick grin. "Easy, right?
"If all that works, I will collect the fragments and dispose of them in a place from which they can not return."
He looks around at the assembled team. "We'll talk about where to engage the demon in a moment. This is a good time for questions, so ask them. I'll answer as I can. Let me see your weapons while I do."
"Our Prince is unconsumed," say the first pair of Aelfs. The others reply, "We would have known were it otherwise."
"How are arrows gonna work against rock creatures?", asks Aldar.
Brennan looks at the Aelfs, but it's the Dvarts he asks a question of, first: "Aldar, Dildan, Lorcan, any of you-- has this demon been spotted with anything even resembling an Aelf child in its charge?"
"No, but it's rarely spotted."
Then, to the Aelfs: "Listen to me, this is very important-- are you now, or have you been, communicating with your Prince since the abduction?" As they answer, Brennan extends his vision into the Astral again. He's trying again to work out any details of their communication with each other, either between the four who are here locally, or any of the rest of them.
Astrally, there seems to be some sort of tenuous connection between them. It seems to break and re-form like a liquid. "It is not communication, as you understand it," say a different pair than before. "He is too young, too unformed," say the other two.
"He is still in his faceted egg," all of them say in unison.
Brennan lets out a long, slow exhalation of breath through the nose, considering this. "Aldar," he says, "Let me answer your question before I forget-- the arrows are more to harass anything that flies and knock it down. If the pieces are small enough, the arrows might shatter them, but their purpose is mainly to give you enough time to do the work I had intended."
Aldar nods, satisfied.
Then back to the Aelfs, "What you say runs contrary to everything I have seen and heard of creatures such as this one, and my Family and I are expert in fighting them. Please tell me more about this connection you have, and how it isn't communication as I understand it-- I might understand more than you expect. And tell me about this facetted egg, and why that's important."
Brennan keeps looking at this connection of theirs as they speak. The axe-hammer that Lorcan gave him should still be Astrally extended, since the enchantment should hold for a week, and in Brenan's frame it's been less than a day. He does not try this, but does it seem plausible to Brennan that he could at least temporarily disrupt whatever it is they're doing?
Brennan isn't sure the hammer alone could do it. It would be like hitting water; effective only if the water was frozen. That said, perhaps something more complex could be done.
Is it a strictly local phenomenon, or are there connections forming and breaking with more distant members of the collective? Brennan is specifically looking for one that might lead off to the Prince... or more likely, Robin Goodfellow. He's not worried about trying to identify which one would be the right one, just yet, he's just trying to see if that's possible.
It seems mostly to happen through the ground, as if that is the path of least resistance. It's hard to follow beyond a few feet away. There might be a strand that goes away into the mountain. There are definitely strands that go back towards the army. It fades quickly, so it may be that it is qualitatively different at different ranges.
"Forgive the state of our Thari, human hero, it is not natural for us to speak," say three of them in unison. "We are only nominally individuals, and the Prince is of us. He is in the earth and of the earth and warm and safe inside the protection of his egg-shell. The magic of it keeps it indestructible."
Dignity is looking at the Aelfs, as if something they said bothered him.
"Egg-shell," he muses. "Forgive the question, but would 'seed' or 'acorn' be a better descriptor? Something that grows in soil?"
Brennan catches Dignity's eye as if just about every the Aelfs said bothers him, and motions him to voice his concerns-- if it's sensitive, he can murmur in Brennan's ear.
How are the Dvarts taking all this?
Like anyone would upon hearing a bunch of mystic mumbo-jumbo from their lifelong enemies.
The Aelfs react indignantly. "Of course not! He is a person, not a plant. He comes from an egg."
Dignity turns to Lorcan. "What does your Narrol look like?"
Lorcan looks up. "It's a large, faceted gemstone. This one was a brilliant purple."
Dignity turns to Brennan.
Brennan looked as though he had been about to say something sharp to the Aelfs, before Dignity's question and answer to the Dvarts. As it is, Dignity jumped ahead on Brennan's intended line of questions, but saved considerable time and effort, since this revelation just collapsed several of the plans Brennan was considering. He holds up a hand before the Aelfs can react to what the Dvarts just said, and speaks over anyone who tries to interrupt:
"All right, the issues of the Prince and the Narrol isn't going to be settled here, and it's moot unless something is done about the demon in the first place." He fixes the Aelfs, in particular, with a stare for the next bit: "I will try to recover your Heir, but understand that I am extremely doubtful about it. Consider me an expert on these demons, and treat it-- and whatever it says or emanates-- with extreme suspicion." Then to everyone: "If we're going to do this, let's do it. The plan stands, yes?"
The Aelfs nod in unison, although it's clear that they think the Dvarts are not their friend.
Assuming it does, Brennan asks the Dvarts to lead them to the area where they believe the creature is, preferably to a large area where if the thing wants to run, they'll be able to follow it. As they go, Brennan keeps his Astral sight active and trained on the tendril he thinks might be leading them toward the creature, so that if the thing decides to screeble out of the stone walls he might have some advanced warning.
"It was last seen in near the burning lakes," says Lorcan. "The lads can take you there."
They do. It's a large underground chamber, with high, smooth walls and the smell of wet sulphur in the air. The pools do, indeed burn, in patches that flow across the otherwise placid surface of the underground lake.
"This isn't so bad. I was imagining eruptions of flaming oil," says Dignity.
Gilcan squints. "Doesn't happen after the spring rains." He points. "This is where he was last seen."
"I was expecting lava," Brennan mutters, followed by, "It's not a he, it's an it. Don't Dvarthopomorphize it just because it presently walks on two legs. Any idea what it was doing here or why it came to this place?"
While the Dvarts are giving their answers, Brennan looks to the Astral tendrils of the Aelfs to see if one happens to be leading under the lake, and then scans the lake-- and under it-- to see if there is anything interesting there. Like a lurking beast of Chaos.
The lake is not transparent to Brennan's third eye. It is as if it were either magically warded or alive.
"This is the edge of our city. We used to come here for lamp oil, but not in many years. The oldest Dvarts say it's haunted."
The Aelfs look at the surface. "He is under it. How do we get there?"
Before he forgets, Brennan looks down at Skiaza, and sends it away out of the room, just in case there is violent Pattern-play. "Fall back, Skiaza, away from the lakeshore. Await my call."
Skiaza was trying to slide under Brennan's armor, but follows his new instructions, however reluctantly.
Them, to the Aelfs, "Tell your Prince we've come to ransom him. Humor me," he adds, if they object. If the Goodfellow interprets that as a statement of weakness, he is prepared to accept that in exchange for its coming to meet them. It is not without precedent-- its antecedants have been known to bargain.
They nod. They don't do or say anything else, visibly.
Brennan waits a long moment after for a response, and if he receives none, sends his own invitation: with a variant on the Godvoice designed to carry for long distances underwater, Brennan says calmly, "Robin Goodfellow, come bargain with me."
"Oh, Brennan Brandson, Knight of the Ruby. What have you?"
"The Ruby of the Knight Commander," Brennan says, with a faint emphasis on the last word. "Come to us."
The voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. It's a nice spell effect. "Oh, I am here, or more precisely, you are here with me. Why are you interrupting my post-prandial nap?"
Brennan scowls, uncertain if the thing is just being stubborn, or if the loss of Daeon's blood has made them less mutually comprehensible. Not for the first time, he resolves to learn Mabrahoring at his earliest opportunity. "You have something I want," Brennan says slowly. "A crystal you took from those above the ground. I have a thing of value I offer in return-- The Knight Commander's Ruby."
The voice continues to surround him. "There is a thing I would value more, son of Brand. Ruby it is as well. I will give you the stone I found for a single drop of your blood, which I will keep as safe as I did your fellow Knight's."
Dignity looks at Brennan, and so do the Dvarts. "Are ye talking to the Daemon, hero?"
Brennan flicks a hand at the crowd behind him to signal that he's heard, although he's not going to answer. The Aelfs are free to do so, since Brennan expects they can hear it as well.
He also looks out Astrally again, and tries to use the Aelfish roots as a guide wire: His hypothesis is that the Aelfish roots are still connected to their Prince, and thus to the Goodfellow, and he expects to see that forming and reforming root structure extend over to the lake, and probably into it. He is hoping to determine if it is leading to a particular location under the lake. Instead of just a simple glance, though, Brennan continues to look while he and the Goodfellow converse.
When he does respond, it's with a sardonic smile that will certainly be lost on the Goodfellow. "Why? What exactly would you do with such a thing, Goodfellow?"
[OOC-- In other words, Brennan is trying to move from an instantaneous cast to a minute long cast, which isn't necessarily the sort of thing Brennan would try to do while talking, except that this is a pretty passive thing. He's hoping to either get more details about the lake, or to be able to penetrate it. The results are important to what Brennan is eventually going to do.]
It's hard to triangulate on any particular spot in or under the lake. The Aelfs are pretty close to it and so the strands go nearly immediately under the surface, which is not invisible to Brennan's sight. The lake seems to be made up entirely of living creatures, not of water or oil. He cannot see through it, and that makes sense.
That is fascinating and disturbing, and Brennan puts a thumbtack in his mental map to mark this location for use at a later date. And maybe to ask the Dvarts just what the heck this lake actually is. But presently, he gives the Aelfs a set of simple hand signs-- two of them should go one direction up the coast fifteen or twenty yards, and the other two should go the other direction, and back off from it a little bit.
Then he continues his conversation with the Goodfellow.
The Aelf pairs do so. The lines from each appear to go directly into the lake, still. There does not seem to be a single spot that can be triangulated upon, unless it's several miles under the lake's surface.
Brennan scowls, because that is exactly what he is wondering about-- whether there exists a single hidden location under the lake, or whether Goodfellow has managed to disperse itself through the entire lake.
"Oh, I would keep it safe. I miss your cousin's and I would consider yours a keepsake. It is much more interesting than this puzzle box."
"You didn't really keep that safe, though, so the answer is no. I am very good at puzzles, though. I am certain I could open it," Brennan says.
"Oh. It is a very ordered thing to be certain of something, is it not?" He (it?) seems closer. Brennan thinks he sees a sort of rhythmic pattern to the brightening and darkening of the fires on the oil lake, as if something were breathing.
It's an it, as far as Brennan is concerned. Even Dara barely qualifies for the the gendered pronouns, and Goodfellow isn't even remotely that human unless its ancestors ate a Family member long, long ago. Brennan smiles to himself when he sees the breathing pattern on the lake surface, though; does it seem to have a particular location or center? Or is it spread out as far as he can see? Calculations are happening in the back of Brennan's mind about just how large an effect he can create through Sorcery or Pattern.
It is, Brennan determines, spread out as far as he can see, both astrally and visibly.
"It is," Brennan says, with certainty. "It is in my nature to solve puzzles. I have never met one I could not solve. Come, let me see it."
Brennan motions the Aelf pairs back closer again, then keeps his left hand out just a little bit, with the palm facing backwards. If the Aelfs and Dvarts don't understand the gesture, Dignity will: It means, don't do anything before I do.
About 50 yards into the lake, a column of water rises from the surface. It burns slightly more than the rest of the water, and sitting on it is a regularly faceted jewel the size of a watermelon. From base of the column, a flattened water-bridge arcs up and then down at the edge closest to Brennan.
The goodfellow says nothing, but the invitation is clear.
The Aelfs and the Dvarts are quite agitated. Dignity has his hand on the senior Dvart's shoulder, restraining him. It's necessary.
Brennan gazes across the burning water for a long moment, one hand stroking his chin. Considering.
At length, he turns fully around to face the Aelfs and Dvarts, fixing them with a glare. "Be still," he hisses. "Do nothing-- nothing!-- but what Dignity commands, and not a moment before." While still facing the crowd, he puts his axe-hammer in a loop at his belt to free his hands, and palms the ruby from his pendant. "Stay ready," he says, and winks at Dignity.
Then he turns again, and walks slowly out over the lake until he reaches the gem, with several emergency spells involving gravity and phases of matter uppermost in his mind to get him out of any emergency that may arise.
How high is the bridge?
The bridge is not very high, perhaps 4 feet above the water's surface, so no more than a Dvart-length. It is a simple arch, with no support or rail or other embellishments. The surface is hard as stone and not slick, but looks like water. As Brennan approaches, the stone on the pedestal gleams.
Brennan sees a gemstone, larger than any natural stone, covered with unevenly sized and shaped facets. One could not carve a legendary sapphire throne from it, but it is still impressive. It would make a man's fortune in many shadows. There is some sort of flaw in the stone.
Brennan examines the gemstone carefully, both with his mundane vision and then with his astral vision fully engaged. Since the gem is also the Aelfish heir, and probably alive, he does not expect to be able to see inside it, although that would be useful, too. But he does want to know whether the Aelfish roots are connected to it, or still connected to the lake (or something under it) or both.
It is opaque to his vision. Brennan cannot see a connection, but the pillar and the bridge are also alive, the connection may not be visible without lifting the object from where it rests.
He also wants to know if the thing seems tainted by Chaos or could be some overtly constructed trap masquerading as the Heir.
Brennan paces fully around the stone during his examination.
He detects no obvious taint of Chaos, beyond the general chaotic nature of the place they are in. Brennan feels as if he is closer to the tree than he was above the ground.
"Clever," Brennan says, after a lengthy examination. "My cousins have told me that at least part of you enjoys contests and wagers."
"Oh. Yes, nearly constantly. When there are interesting stakes, of course. I enjoyed our contest in the prison."
"Did you," Brennan says, flatly refusing to ask if all the screaming that the Eater did was to be taken as a sign of enjoyment.
"Then let the rules be these: I have a puzzle in the form of a gem. You have a puzzle in the form of a gem. Let the victor be that which first removes the contents of the other's puzzle, by any means save that the puzzles not leave the chamber of this underground lake. Let the stakes be the contents of the puzzles. Mine contains the certainty of my power, as befits my nature; yours contains the uncertainty of an undetermined prize, as befits your nature."
Brennan holds up the ruby he prepared previously, as his stake in the contest. According to its design, it should glitter enticingly and appear brimming with power to mystic senses.
"I will release mine and begin work on yours." Brennan waits for the Goodfellow to acquiesce.
"Oh, yes, we will compete." The pedestal reshapes itself into Hob and grows stubby arms with no hands that nonetheless manage to lift the great gemstone and hand it to Brennan.
Brennan is annoyed that he has been deprived of the opportunity to pitch the small ruby into the burning lake, but manfully surpresses the urge to scowl.
He makes the exchange, and when he's got the larger stone, he turns and strides with very brisk purpose back across the bridge. Brennan is entirely mindful that the Goodfellow might choose to collapse the bridge, or play some other trick-- he is prepared and has no intention of being dumped into a lake of fire. He definitely hurries, though, because while Brennan doesn't think that the Goodfellow can eat his way through the gem instantly, he sure dodesn't think it's going to take very long, and when the implosion happens, he wants to be on the other side, on solid ground.
The pudgy little not-hand of the Eater isn't really holding the gem, but the gem is there, as if it were. It laughs, and tosses the gem into the air. Behind Brennan, the pedestal collapses into the fire lake with a bright splash, sending a ring of flame-drops out like milk captured in a high-speed photograph. The bridge Brennan is on collapses from the center outward and he'll have to hurry slightly to be off the end of it before it disappears. The halfway point falls as the ruby reaches its apogee.
Brennan converts his brisk walk into a sprint and covers the last nine or ten yards in a classic, if harried, running long jump.
The ruby hits the surface of the fire-water with a surprisingly mundane "ploop!" sound, and sinks below the surface.
[Card Draw: The Hermit, Reversed. ]
Nothing happens, immediately. A moment later there is a double crack, and everyone on the shore is knocked down by the wave. A great wave of firewater begins raining on the shore and washes over everyone.
Brennan's last thought before the wave hits is, "Oh. I guess you won." He doesn't have time to smirk.
His first act after it hits is to insulate himself from the water, both its fire and its temperature-- a brief but urgent manipulation of entropy should serve to keep his temperature constant and his person unburnable.
Aldar the Dvart, his cape still on fire, recovers his feet first. Then he recovers the Narrol, which he carries like a hogshead of mead under his arm as he runs for a cave entry. His partner, Dildan, grabs his axe and moves to block pursuit.
Of The Eater, there is neither sound nor sight.
As Brennan gets his feet back under him and sees Aldar's treachery, he has a moment of battlefield clarity. It's the sort that comes on instantly although the introspection later may take weeks or months: Brennan has been committing an error with the Aelfs and Dvarts akin to the one Jerod has been committing with the Family, trying to corral everyone to a common purpose, even when "everyone" has different, and mutually incompatible goals. And yet, it's uniquely his own: the insistence that everyone be with him, or no one. It's a hobbling insistence, but there is a middle path: Lead those who will be led. Let those who break with the group leave.
Aldar has made his choice: Having taken the stone and ran, he has forsaken the group. So be it. Brennan will not even try to have him back. But neither will he let the Dvart take the stone off the field of play. That, Brennan needs to draw the Goodfellow, wounded as he hopes it is, back into play. So he reaches out Sorcerously and pulls a fold of Time over Aldar, with the intent of tucking him into a bubble where time moves so slowly that the Dvart might as well be frozen for a watch while the fight goes on around them.
Dildan is also free to make a choice. The bubble of time is sticky, and interfering with it will capture anyone who does so, growing slightly as that happens. The Aelfs, too, are free to make their choice. Brennan is under no illusion, here: He expects all of them to choose to abandon their plan. He expects all of them to carry their squabbles to their graves. If any of them are wiser, so much the better, but Brennan is tired of wrangling with them. They may all make their choice to be part of the team, or to stand alone. Then they shall all see that choice enforced. They can do whatever they want, as long as they don't get in his way.
In the mean time, the Goodfellow is going to have to figure a way around that bubble of time-- and Brennan-- in order to get his prize. Brennan looks around the cavern, physically and Astrally, hoping that the implosion has done enough damage to the water to make it permeable to his sight. He is, of course, looking for a very angry and hopefully very weakened Goodfellow. Despite the Dvarts' fickleness, Brennan had a hand in loosing this thing, this thing which continues to try to eat Family members, and he is loathe to leave it lying here to menace future generations.
The Aelfs, almost as one, fire a volley of arrows at Aldar. Dildan knocks one from the air, but the other three were fired at an angle and come streaming in at Aldar in a high trajectory. Three arrows hit the bubble of magic and silently disappear in a flash of bright light. Two of the Aelfs charge Dildan and the other two keep shooting at Aldar. They have an impressive rate of fire.
Brennan scans for his old adversary, but does not find him. What he sees is that each drop of flamewater is an independent life form. They're moving, erratically, but seem to becoming more directed.
Dignity finishes beating out the flames on himself and begins to beat out the flames on Sir Brennan. Brennan notes that the squire's weapon is always within reach.
"Sir Brennan? What now?"
Brennan turns from watching the Aelfs begin the destruction of the Dvarts, to Dignity. Good question, he thinks. "Keep an eye on that," he says, gesturing to the impending slaughter of Dildan. "But don't interfere. Keep watch for the Goodfellow, too."
Then he collects up a double handful of the separated droplets from the wave into his fireproofed hands, lets them flow together into a single creature, and gently blows some air across them, feeding them a little bit. He bends close to them, and whispers Astrally, "Did the Goodfellow eat you? Were you it? Then burn bright. Or does the Goodfellow simply hide within you? Then burn low." Brennan aims for a respectful, but powerfully insistent tone. He is in a hurry. He does not continue to blow air across it, because he needs to be able to distinguish the creatures' answer from it, but the promise of more fuel is always there.
Behind Brennan, there are the sounds of one Dvart meeting four Aelfs, briefly.
The droplets form into a tiny image of the Goodfellow. It has no lungs or other speaking organs, and yet it speaks aloud. It's voice is not, as one might expect, smaller in any way. "It was tasty. Sadly, your gift wasted most of its power tearing itself apart. Some in Chaos would call that a metaphor for the ordered life your line has chosen. Do you have another?"
Dignity speaks up. "Sir Brennan? Should that magic thing be on fire?"
If Dignity isn't talking about the little Goodfellow in Brennan's hand, Brennan takes a quick glance at whatever fresh Hell is breaking loose. But he answers the Goodfellow quickly, anyway.
Flaming droplets are accreting onto the surface of the bobble.
Brennan is grateful for the warning, but has no time to talk to Dignity. He gives a brief nod, meant to be interpreted as, "I hear you," rather than, "Yes, a burning bubble of time containing a twice doomed Dvart and an Aelfen heir-stone fits the parameters of my clever plan perfectly."
"I might be persuaded to make one. Tell me what you know of where Weyland went. But I need more than, 'He went away.' A destination, a goal, a reason, a traveling companion," Brennan says. "Useful information."
"Oh, yes, we spoke of it. He told me two reasons, which seemed enough for him. First, he no longer had to stay now that his child had left and second, he hated being findable. I know where he said he was going, as well. Would that be enough persuasion, ordered one?"
"Yes."
While they are conversing, Brennan continues to examine the burning Littlefellow in his hand Astrally. Since the part he's got consists of burning water, that's all Brennan is really interested in-- the entropic workings of the thing.
It seems to work via direct expenditure of magical energy. Nothing like this should burn, and if it does, it should run out of fuel.
... If it's burning at all. Brennan cannot feel the heat but he doesn't see any other signs of actual burning in the cave.
There is now a pseudopod of burning water attached to the time bobble. It seems to be slowly flowing over it. The Aelfs are bound to be unhappy about that, if they weren't still busy with the Dvart.
Brennan's respect for the Dvart's martial prowess has increased somewhat, but that does nothing for his respect for the Dvart as a whole.
The Dvartish noises have stopped.
"Please be as detailed as possible."
"He went to see if the King or the King needed a Pattern Blade made. It is his duty. An you want him, seek at the heart of Order."
Brennan closes his eyes with a slightly pained expression, and nearly shakes his head in frustration.
"I see." He doesn't bother to ask how heading into the courts of Paris and Xanadu reconciles with not being found, because he doesn't suspect that this thing-- if Goodfellow is still its name-- has the capacity to understand the question properly. Besides, it would only interpret the question as a reason to bargain further and as much as it has proved useful, Brennan is getting tired of. "Bide, then, while I prepare your payment." If Dignity doesn't have a lantern lit, he gestures to one.
Dignity does his bidding.
Before he even begins that, though, he reaches out to brush a piece of soot from Dignity's body, and places the same fireproofing protection on Dignity as he placed on himself. He may need it very shortly. Then he begins the production of another gem in earnest. He reaches into his pouch and takes out another small ruby, holds it tight in a double fist, and begins a process that is very similar to the one by which he prepared the first one... just under a day ago, by his reckoning. That time, he pumped energy out of the stone and built a protective Astral shell around it to keep the energy out and make it appear attractive and enticing. This time, he again destroys the energy into the stone, moving beyond the realm of the physically possible by destroying energy that isn't even there, making the gemstone a pit of negative energy, ready to collapse, kept from imploding only by Brennan's active efforts. But this time, he is much more aggressive about the destruction of energy, because, when he creates the candy coated protective barrier, it only needs to last a moment, not an entire day. To the extent that it is tunable, Brennan will be pleased if it selectively targets the force that keeps the water part of the creature alive, forcing it back into a stone form.
A minute or so later, when he is finished, Brennan hurls the stone as far out into the lake as possible.
He does not wait for it to splash down. He immediately grabs Dignity by the arm, to steady them both, and begins to turn a thick shell of air around them into a solid, transparent shield to protect them from the expected blast as quickly as possible.
The blast happens, and the water washes over the entirety of the cave and against the shield. It doesn't seem to be burning, now.
The Aelfs are standing back up. There is no sign of the gemstone.
The first two of them who stand look at Brennan. "How will we get our Prince back now?"
Brennan holds up a hand to the Aelfs in mild irritation and a Be Ready gesture-- they might think this is over, but Brennan hasn't lived five centuries or more on optimism alone. Brennan is operating on the tentative assumptions that the water part of the Goodfellow is dead, dying, or at least disrupted and passive for the moment, because he had targetted it specifically and it is no longer burning; and that the rest of the Goodfellow is dazed or disoriented but still dispersed in the corpse of the lake, because it seemed to take some time previously before it was able to gather itself and speak again.
Brennan wants to press the advantage and draw out the thing's previous form, or forms. He's been fighting the creature and its antecedants steadily since he encountered it in Weyland's prison, and he's seen what seems to work, and what seems not to. He dismisses the air shield and, as the water flows back toward the lake, Brennan stoops to gather up a cupped double-handful.
For this task, he concentrates on Entropy again, not the Entropy that regulates energy flows, but the Entropy which regulates the mixture of substances. It's all the same principle, but Entropy is at the heart of the process by which a bucket of water and a drop of red dye becomes a bucket of red water. Violated, it is at the heart of the process by which a bucket of red water becomes a bucket of water with a drop of red dye floating in the center of it.
Brennan violates this principle with a vengeance. Using the cupped handful of water as a focus, he works a spell that is a variation on the theme by which he reversed the Eater's digestive process: he causes the water to purify itself by rejecting and concentrating all that is not it, all that was Eater or Goodfellow or Cloudeater or Hob or the like, into three pockets along the shore, near himself and Dignity. The water in his hands is a useful object for study as he's doing this, and a sympathetic link to the rest of the lake.
"Come forth," he commands, in the Godvoice.
The spell seems to work for no more than instants at a time and the material remixes behind him.
"Oh..." is all the voice says. The cave moves, as if a slight earthquake had hit some distance from here. It is over quickly.
The sound of the earthquake only barely covers the sound of Brennan's molars grinding in frustration.
"Have you lost our Prince?" say two of the Aelfs in harmony. They seem quite agitated. Dignity has rather quickly regained control of his hammer.
Brennan looks from the lake, to the direction of the earthquake sounds, and then lock onto one of the pair of Aelfs: "I haven't given up yet. Have you?" They already know that they have absolutely no hope of achieving their goal without Brennan, so he doesn't bother to drive it home further. "I think it's run away, and it probably took the stone with it. This is important: That earthquake, or cave-in, or whatever it was-- your peoples' work?" He keeps the stab-force eye contact until he gets an answer.
Brennan also summons Skiaza back to him and asks if it can sense which way the thing has gone, even though he's got his own ideas on the subject.
"No," the four voices reply in harmony. The first pair adds "we are creatures of the air and light or darkness, not clods of earth."
"Good," Brennan says. "If your others haven't already restarted the war against the Dvarts in return for their betrayal, you might hold that action until a better moment." Then, as an afterthought, "Do they know what that was, and where?"
A pair of Aelfs replies "No, we are not with them."
Skiaza is back in a moment. The mental image it returns is one of no direction at all, as if the thing has not gone anywhere.
Brennan scowls, then returns to the Astral view: The first thing he examines is the Aelfs, to see if there is still a tendril leading somewhere other than the main body of Aelfs elsewhere in the complex, and if so where. If there is still one leading to lake or anywhere close nearby, then Brennan has made a serious error.
There is no such thing.
The second is the lake itself and the rest of the chamber, to see if the water is dead, or merely dormant, and if possible to see if there is any sign of the Goodfellow.
The lake is neither dead nor dormant, as if the creatures in it are gone. Now that that is so, Brennan sees an astrally bright patch under the surface of the lake. It does not resemble the Goodfellow at all.
"What happened to you?" Brennan asks. His tone is concerned, but stern. He's not interested in hearing a demurral from the Aelfs.
But while his ears on the Aelfs, his eyes are on whatever that Astral presence is under the lake. Now that he can see, how far away does it seem to be? How big? Is it moving? Now that he can see, his options have increased tremendously.
It's a shadow-path; a natural one between this lake and some other place.
It takes some effort for Brennan not to turn his scowl into a bewildered gawp: he hadn't thought it would be able to do that. He takes a minute to compose a working which will make the next step of this a little easier for all concerned. He works one principle to turn some of the water solid, forming walls of narrow furrow running to the start of that path. He works another to modify gravity for a moment, causing the still liquid water in that channel to to flow up and out of it, with the last little bit turned solid to give the whole channel a little extra height. So long as the channel walls and floor are solid, the rest of the lake should stay out of it.
Brennan casts his spell. It seems as if it will be good enough for long enough.
Brennan doesn't look back as he starts slowly down the path he's made, but he does speak: "The end of this path very likely lies in another world, but I believe what remains of the demon will be there. Probably with the Heir. Dignity, you're used to that, and you're with me. You too, Skiaza. Aelfs.... I've never guaranteed you anything. But I've never lied to you, either, which is probably the best treatment you've ever had at the hands of a non-Aelf in this world. I'm going to follow that policy. I'm not going to promise you your Heir, but I'm not going to lie to you. I am not exaggerating. The end of this path could be anywhere, including places you cannot walk back from. If this path even goes in both directions, it may be under water when you try to come back. And if you follow me," now Brennan looks back over his shoulder, "you accept my command for the duration. But I still want that thing dead, and you still want your Heir.
"It's your choice."
The Aelfs are quiet for a moment, not responding at all. If Brennan were to happen to look at them with his sourcerous vision, he would see that the connection between these four was quite active. They step towards each other and shut their eyes.
For a change, only one speaks. "It is decided. We will accept your command." He pulls out a small dagger and cuts a diagonal line across his left palm.
Brennan has no desire to leave any of his own blood behind him, especially not considering how much trouble he's gone to, just to get Daeon's back. But he clasps the Aelf-- or all four in turn, if they desire it-- wrist to wrist. "I'll do my best to see you don't regret it."
Dignity can affirm any of what Brennan said or not, or add to it, as he chooses.
That should take him to the beginning of the Shadow Path.
Once he's up close to it, he opens his Third Eye and extends it into the Astral, trying to determine what he'll find at the other end. But unless he sees a dire and immediate threat that would require some Sorcerous protection, he walks the Path, weapon in hand, ready for anything. The Aelfs can follow, or not.
Brennan walks the path, the Aelfs and Dignity along with him. It's unclear to him if Eater created this path or merely used it. The path is a fragile thing, unlike the pathways his uncles laid to create a shadow trade empire that spanned a double dozen seas and more.
Last modified: 11 April 2009