The tensions held, and with a smirk of satisfaction, Pim used the file to twist the lock. It opened with a satisfying click. And then it screamed. On the face of the lock, the lock hole had widened to fit the gargoyle’s mouth, and it was wailing like a banshee. Startled, Pim tried to quell the noise by stuffing straw into the mouth, to no avail. A clatter from downstairs told Pim that she was discovered. She gathered her tools and looked for a place to hide. Too late, the pounding tread up the staircase was near. Pim opted to try to talk her way out instead.
Lucius appeared at the landing, hand holding a rod with a glowing end that radiated light like a torch. He looked determined but wary. Seeing Pim, he dropped the rod in surprise. “Pim! What are you doing here?” he said.
Pim was amused at the confused expression on Lucius’s face. It was endearing, in a way, how obtuse the man could be at times. She tried to think of something to say, anything that might distract from the obvious nature of her clandestine visit. “I wanted to see for myself what Karthild users got up to.”
Lucius nodded absentmindedly, retrieving his rod and walking over to the wailing safe. He took something from his pocket, careful to turn so that Pim could not see. The wailing ceased, and Lucius turned around again, “Oh, well you could have asked,” Lucius looked a little hurt.
Pim tried to keep the conversation moving, “I didn’t want to bother your meal, so I took a look around for myself first.”
In an instant Lucius’s face transformed from silly gentleness to twisted rage. Pim was so surprised she bounded backward and tripped herself. She fell over with a crash, scrambling away quickly as Lucius advanced on her with a look of fury on his face.
“First you break in here, uninvited. Then you spy on me. Then you try to steal from my fellow worker in magics beyond your understanding. At the last, caught, found, and unable to flee, you try to spin a tale fit for a babe’s understanding. The ridiculousness of it all is beyond me.” His tone was low, menacing.
Pim sputtered, “I’m sorry, Lucius, really I am.”
“Silence!” Lucius roared, and he reared back his hand holding the rod. Pim flinched, but the blow did not come. She opened her eyes, and looked on at Lucius, frozen mid-strike, still as a statue and fairly vibrating.
Pim edged backward carefully. She could hear frantic growls from Lucius, and his eyes were still fixed upon her, but he remained still. She tried walking towards the stairway, not letting herself lose sight of what was going on with Lucius. She had no idea what was happening, the only thought in her mind was to flee the situation before something more dreadful occurred.
Pim reached the staircase, she was about to turn away and make good her escape when she thought she caught a flicker in the air next to Lucius. Pim’s heart was racing, she couldn’t just leave, not like this. As she watched, ready to spring away should Lucius be free of his paralysis, the flicker came again. It was there and gone, all in a moment, but it was unmistakable. Next to Lucius, she had seen the image of Ibdal. He was holding onto the rod, preventing the strike that never came, one hand on Lucius’s shoulder. Suddenly, she understood, there was more going on here than met the naked eye.
Pim was cautious, but came back into view of Lucius. She could see the stream of tears from the eyes, the body shaking in whatever throes of will that contested within. She knew then that Lucius had not been totally himself, it was an insight that moved her to pity. She remembered the empty bag, the chance that Ibdal had given her. Maybe she had to help Lucius now in his own trial.
“Lucius,” Pim said, “I don’t know if you can hear me. You scared me just now, but I know that you did not mean to. Whatever is wrong with you, I hope you’ll listen to Ibdal. I saw him with you. Please, come back to your real self.”
She peered into Lucius’s eyes. Deep down, somewhere, there was some inner debate, though she was not privy to it. All she could do was watch. Lucius’s face contorted in a horrible rictus. Quite suddenly, he collapsed on the ground, as if a puppet cut from strings. Great sobs escaped from his limp form as he cried. “Pim, I’m sorry, so sorry. I don't know what came over me.”
Pim, too, was crying, remembering the chance that Ibdal had given her to trust again. Then she recalled her nightmares since returning, “I think we’re still being influenced by our time in the god's land,” she said.
“It was terrible,” Lucius said, between gasps, “I wasn't even that mad about whatever it is you came to do here. When you mentioned the food though, I just lost it. Like something took over and all I could think about was hiding what I’d been doing. Like it was just something I had to do, I had to, I had to...”
“It's okay,” said Pim, “Well, I mean, it wasn’t okay, but I think I understand what you’re saying.”
“It was like watching myself act and not being able to stop it. I tried to strike you, but something stopped me. I felt a shock run through me and I couldn’t move. I kept thinking about how awful it was, what I was doing. All I wanted to do was stop,” Lucius said.
“I think Ibdal helped you,” said Pim, “I saw him.”
“I thought they couldn't interact with our world directly?” asked Lucius.
“I don’t know, but maybe he still has some connection to you too. Be glad he did,” said Pim.
Lucius quieted down. And looked up at Pim apologetically. For her part, Pim was still wary of Lucius, of what might happen at any moment, but she kept thinking back to Ibdal and the shore. Maybe trust was something she could gift back. She held out her hand, and Lucius reached out, then stopped himself.
Pim said, “Come on, if I can move ahead, so can you.” Lucius nodded solemnly and reached out again. Pim helped him to his feet. An awkward silence fell between them.
“You really were bold as brass though,” Lucius said, with a shy smile, “To think you'd be able to steal from a Karthild master. Why ever would you try something like that?”
Pim shrugged, “I knew it would be difficult, but I needed to test myself, see if I still could do this line of work. I don’t even know why Gavin sent me here, maybe he guessed something like this would happen. He’s a tricky one.”
A loud rumble sounded from below, like the heaving on the bellows of a mighty furnace. “What was that?” Pim asked.
Lucius was about to come up with his own cover. He stopped mid concoction however. “Ugh. No use keeping it from you, follow me,” said Lucius.
The two went downstairs, Lucius regaining some of his former composure as he spoke, “I oughtn’t be telling you this, really. On the other hand, I’m fed up with secrecy. It hasn’t got me where I want to be, that’s for sure, and I never liked hiding it from you and Reuben. Somehow, I think it's important.”
Lucius led Pim to the corner, the one with the cell. Lucius pointed, the knight was restrained, held there by means both magical and mundane. The knight was wheezing heavily, straining against its restraints. Chains were much in use, wrapped around the knight and secured to the floor. Pim observed with curiosity the shimmering light that played along the links. Pim noticed the small wound on the leg of the knight, as well as the shape of the axe that was outside of the cell. “This is the same one, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Lucius. “I got him here. My associate did the rest. It was risky, terribly risky. Maybe it was pointless, but we’ve got to try whatever we can, especially now.”
Pim was rather scared, but too stubborn to show it; the mighty frame that was bound had nearly killed her previously. “You’re quite sure it’s not going to escape?”
“As much as I can be,” said Lucius. From the table nearby the cell, he picked up the research notes left by Eistor. The man’s writing was much as himself, slumped over and wobbly. Beneath those surface features however, Lucius could see the clever mind behind the trials. The research had been going well, it seemed. Eistor had been unable to completely stay away from their specimen, but at least he had been forthcoming about it. Nothing worse than losing time covering the same ground. So far, it
seemed that most Karthild had little effect on the knight. It was possible, by lowering concentrations of the stones, to test what might work. Lucius squirmed a bit inside, he felt their work was straying a little too far down dangerous roads. He shoved the feeling aside, this was war and their city was besieged. No good letting the side down by being squeamish over a little dirty work.
He returned to pouring over the notes, fingers occasionally running through his hair. He noticed, through the varying combinations that Eistor had tried, that anything involving onyx seemed to be at least a little reactive. Eistor had noticed too, for other stones had been abandoned in the later entries; which focused on the known iterations. Lucius was not surprised, knowing what he now knew. Onyx had always been associated with the god of war, Kormog. If these were his soldiers, then it made sense for there to be a sympathetic resonation. He tried to remember if there were any stones associated with luck or fate but drew a blank. That was the problem. One foe too powerful to hit, the other too elusive to know how to even target. Anything could be lucky. He tried another tack, what about fate? No, nothing came to mind on that, either.
Pim looked at the table nearby, it was covered with the detritus of failed experiments. Broken stones littered the surface, yet in one bowl there were several intact, all alike. She reached over to the bowl, picking up one of the smooth black discs, no larger than a coin, yet heavier, “What are these?” she asked.
Lucius glanced up from his writing, “Oh those, they’re for the work here. Eistor must have made up some Onyx tablets.”
“I thought there had to be your special marks on them,” Pim said running her finger over the pristine face of the stone.
Lucius explained, “Well, these are almost ready. I expect Eistor just used that small chisel and hammer on the table just there to do a rough and ready test. It wouldn’t produce the best quality, but we’re not dealing with anything grand here, just trying out stuff and seeing if anything sticks.” Lucius sighed, putting down the book and pinching the bridge of his nose, “The problem is, we haven’t the foggiest what to do here. We’re striking out blind.”
Pim flipped the disc like a coin, “When I was a kid, we played dice in the streets. Used to do it for fun growing up, then started doing it for money. Momma didn’t approve, but I wanted to do my part to help out after Da passed away. I got to be pretty good at it.” She caught it in her palm, “Heads or tails?”
“Don’t be silly,” Lucius said, a little stiffly. “Besides, there’s no markings on that yet, that’s the whole point.”
Pim rolled her eyes, “How’s come you get to be all goofy but other people aren’t given a chance when it’s messing with your stuff?”
“Chance, that’s it!” Lucius exclaimed. Hastily, he walked to the table where Pim stood. She backed away, not entirely sure what was going on. Lucius picked up another of the blank discs, muttering, “Hmm. I wonder. Shouldn’t really matter, as long as they’re different.” He took the small chisel from the table and started tapping it against the blank with care. Pim saw the rough shape of an ‘x’ on one side.
“You want to clue me in here?” Pim asked.
“Just an idea. We’ve been thinking these armored warriors are Kormog’s, but what if Arneph is involved. He’s fate, and luck. So let’s add luck to our onyx and see what happens.” Lucius finished one side, flipping over to the other he tapped away, making a straight line.
Pim did not quite share the spark of enthusiasm that was driving Lucius forward. She peered back at the knight in the cell. She wondered if it ever moved. The large form was just lying there, chained to the slab it was on. Faintly, if she strained her vision until her eyes watered, she could see the slight sheen of magic like a blue drape over the form. As she gazed, she noticed, near the head, a small golden spot. She blinked, then moved forward to the cell.
Lucius put down his tools, “What’s the matter?” he asked.
Pim pointed at the knight in the cell “There was the flicker in the air again, Lucius,” she said, “Ibdal is in there, next to the knight.”
Lucius moved forward too, eyes wide open and staring, “What?!” he shouted, “I don’t see anything.”
“He’s leaning over the knight, saying something, but I can’t hear,” Pim said, “Can’t you see the color changing?”
A jerk of the figure on the slab made them jump. There was a thin film of golden light that surrounded the smoke knight now. Lucius stood amazed but Pim shook his shoulder. “Help him, try your Karthild,” she said.
“But it’s only an experiment, I’ve no idea what this will do,” Lucius replied.
“Take a chance,” said Pim grimly. “Besides, with Ibdal there, it’s got to mean something. Come on.”
Lucius shrugged, “I hope you’re right.” He spoke a few words over the stone, running his fingers over the freshly scarred surface. He motioned for Pim to step back, “Over there, please,” he said. Once Pim had moved, Lucius said the final words, he flipped it carefully into the cell, where it landed on the knight.
There was a sound like water hitting a hot pan and a flash of light. Lucius backed away quickly, nearly bumping into Pim. The cause for his alarm was readily apparent to Pim; there was no glow at all around the knight, and worse, the chains were falling to the ground in a rustle of iron. The figure was free, but it did not move. The smoke knight got off of the table slowly, purposefully. Lucius watched in mute horror, unable to think of what alarm he might sound or if there would be any point in doing so. Flames streaked in angry fire from the helmet. The breathing of the knight could be heard, a steady, low wheezing, almost like it was fighting for breath. It looked a solid as ever, as dangerous as ever.
Why were they even still alive, Lucius wondered. Whatever he had tried had failed, what would happen next? The questions flashed through his mind in quick succession, each more urgent than the last. The small part of him, the eternal researcher that was undaunted by the danger, was poised internally, ready to record in vivid detail what it saw for the little time that it might be preserved among the learned and living. One oddity he noticed, smoke was creeping from the joints in the armor. It hung like unhappy clouds around the armored enemy, filling the workshop with its acrid fumes. Still, it was motionless after the rise from the table. A shudder ran through it, shaking the metal suit with faint clanking. Fire sprang from its eyes with renewed vigor. It took one step forward, the shuddering increased. It crashed to one knee, head shaking about this way and that like some massive bull ready to charge. The flames were wild now, flaring and sputtering.
The golden light had returned around the figure, but only on its helm which, imperceptible at first, but noticeable now, was changing color. The jet black was dimmed, a dull black, the glossy polish gone. The smoke knight clutched its head, and it pulled off its own helmet. Underneath, what looked like a face made of swirling smoke, opaque but vaporous nonetheless. Fiery eyes glared around as the mouth slowly opened and closed. It tilted its head back and roared, the sound was deafening. Lucius and Pim covered their ears as the room shook with the tremendous noise. They watched as the light crept up to the swirling smoke, covering it. The mouth closed again, then opened, dark ash heaved from the mouth, vomited from within. The black powdery substance rolled in heaps from the mouth in a tumultuous, rapid disgorgement. The two stared on as the torrent of ash was spewed forth for what seemed like an age. The figure who was on all fours now, great retching heaves of black colored ash still profusely expelled, until at last there was another flash of golden light and the retching stopped. In the moment of dumbfounded silence that was upon them, Pim looked over to Lucius, who nodded, confirming that what they were seeing was indeed real. The smoke had stopped pouring from the armor; there was a clank, and another, as the metal armor fell to the floor. It clattered to the ground, revealing the naked body of man, large, but never so large as the armor he had carried. He collapsed on the ground, limbs and gear in a heap.
“Who are you? What is your name?” aske
d Lucius, propelled by curiosity, though not sure if he wanted an answer.
They watched as the man shivered and twitched, sweat dewing his form and making a thick paste of the ash that surrounded him.
“Lucius,” Pim said, regaining some of her composure, “What do we do?”
The big man curled his hands, as if remembering what they were and how they worked. Lucius looked over his patient, taking notes on his pad of paper, the pen scritching in his excitement. The man looked up at Lucius suddenly, low voice rumbling, “Name… I? I serve Arneph, Lord of Fate. Names are inconsequential unto the Master of Destiny, only his will matters. There is no other will but his.” For a moment, Lucius would have sworn the eyes glowed. But when he blinked, he saw only the regular human eyes of a frightened person. The man shook his head like someone coming out of a dream, then bowed his head. All the while the man had not attempted to even get up from the floor. He spoke once again, “Name? I… think…” His face clouded, cheeks twitching and brow furrowed. The huge man sat up, looking at his scarred features, the wide arms. He clasped and unclasped his hands as if wondering what they were. He touched his face, twisting his head this way and that as the realization that he had only one working eye came to him. He bowed his head, then spoke slowly, “My name… my name is Vern.”
* * *
The steady rattling sound was getting closer. Brother Rufus of the high temple of Entigria looked up from his position of prayer, kneeling at a candle-adorned altar. Each candle had been lit by one of the petitioners, which had increased in number over the last few days. Rufus did not mind, but it required much more maintenance than he had been accustomed to. At least now, at the end of the day, such as it was, he ought to have been able to count on the quiet solitude to complete his duties. For some while, in the distance of the still cathedral, he had become aware of an unsteady racket that was getting closer and closer. He sighed heavily. Maybe he should have left the doors locked, like he used to do. The flames flickered and sputtered, which was odd, because there were no open windows in this smaller side chapel. Rufus sighed again, hoping that whoever or whatever was making the racket down the hallway would go away and leave him in peace. These were trying times, and his knees were about to give out from the constant prayer. Rufus went back to the prayer cycle, each god petitioned for supplication in turn. He was going through the invocation of Kormog, but the clinking and clanking was too distracting. He got up and walked down the short aisle to the doorway. Opening the richly carved door with a moderate amount of huff, he took one step out of the chapel. The source of the bothersome annoyance was readily evident. Down the hallway, dragging a censer along the polished stone floor, a disheveled man was unsteadily walking closer.
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