“Or, several years,” said Gronchard, feeling the knot returning to his gut. He sighed. He had not seen Angelica since her Vessel had grown in her power and learned to detect and resist his scrying. She did not inhabit the body he remembered, but she was still his true love and visiting the Immaculate Hall of the Holy Concubines was not the same without first beholding her current vessel. He blinked back an un-godlike tear.
Saint Prescience wobbled closer to the litter. “The Divinity is unwell! Send for Saint Hale.”
A page scurried off.
“It’s nothing,” said Gronchard, painfully aware of the adolescent crackle in his voice. “You—go after him and countermand that order.”
As a second page sprinted off, Gronchard said, “The noise of the tributes kept me awake last night, that is all.”
“Those shrubs!” Saint Prescience chortled. “They are never so hungry that they won’t insist on having their fun, eh, Divinity?”
“Remembrancer,” said Gronchard, “note that sacrifices will in future be bound or lamed before being fed to the plants. That should make things shorter.”
The Divine Remembrancer scribbled on his tablet.
Saint Prescience shook his head, making his jowls flap. “Oh no no no. You tried that before, Divinity. The shrubs demand to play before they feed, and if they don’t feed, the Flying Tooth Garden goes nowhere.”
Gronchard bit back a retort. The fat old man was forever reminding him that he had served Gronchard in his last prime, and during the dotage before that. Saint Prescience had certainly been a welcome face during the post-flaying disorientation, but now he was becoming irksome. One day the old retainers would outlive their usefulness.
“Well let us get this over with,” said Gronchard, stepping down from his litter.
Saint Prescience gave the signal. A gong sounded and the great bronze doors swung open, letting out a cloud of eye-watering incense.
Gronchard left behind his attendants except for the Saint and paced through pink-tinged wreaths. Deep in the interior hung a great orb.
“Show me Angelica.”
Using Scrying Oracle. 3rd Circle Enchanted Item. Cost 6 Potestas, 3 of 6 remaining.
The distorted incense clouds swirled across the surface of the orb.
Gronchard’s heart rose. He took a step closer.
Now the clouds parted to reveal a dimly lit hall. Its windows cast bars of light over faded frescos representing a battle that must have seemed significant to the mortal who had commissioned it.
“Nothing!” said Gronchard. “Where is she?”
“Do not be downhearted, Divinity,” said Saint Prescience. “The battle scene may be indicative. The angle and quality of the sunlight suggests that it is late afternoon in the Realm under observation. This considerably narrows the possible location.”
Gronchard looked down at his boots. He was standing on the mosaic face of one of his past vessels. He ground his heel on it, punishing himself for having let Angelica slip through his fingers all those incarnations ago. “Possible location of what?”
“The Holy Angelica, Divinity.”
“Yes,” said Gronchard, voice shrilling embarrassingly, “but. My. Angelica. Is. Not. There.”
Saint Prescience turned and seemed to see Gronchard properly for the first time. He stammered. “F…forgive me Divinity, but the orb may be displaying the Shell’s point of view.”
Gronchard bore down on his Saint. “If that’s her point of view, then, Where. Is. My. Angelica?”
Saint Prescience paled. “I…she…the Shell as it were may be visualising this scene…”
The view shifted to show the room’s floor.
“Terracotta tiles,” said the Saint.
“What of it?” said Gronchard. “Look!”
A big circle was marked out in salt, with little clay figures guarding each of the four quarters and a small woven carpet in the middle.
Wizardry. Ritual. 2nd Circle Spell.
And a girl stepped down into it.
Step Between.
Gaunt, mousey brown hair caught up in a thong; this vessel was not the sweet blond angel he remembered…but somewhere in there was Angelica. His Angelica.
The vessel sank to her knees, then huddled on the rug as if exhausted by the spell.
Gronchard chewed his lower lip, thinking. Her state meant that she was powerful but not so powerful that the 5 Potestas required by a 2nd circle spell was insignificant to her.
“Her Potestas must be low,” mused Saint Prescience. “Which is why she has not detected the scrying.”
“Yes, yes,” said Gronchard. He leaned closer to the Orb and whispered. “Where have you been my love?”
“Divinity, she cannot hear you,” said Saint Prescience.
“I know that,” snapped Gronchard. “But where has she been? She has just Stepped Between. Since we can see the apparatus of her Ritual, it follows that she has just completed the return leg of a journey. What does her vessel plan?”
“The Orb shows only what the etheric currents bring, Divinity.”
“Leave us,” said Gronchard, “I wish at least to be alone with my love.”
“Divinity.” The Saint bowed and slipped away.
Angelica’s vessel didn’t do anything other than doze on the rug until the vision faded.
It was more enough for Gronchard, however. Just seeing her brought back dead memories. There would be no need for a visit to the Immaculate Hall.
When he finally emerged into the fresh air, he was unsteady on his feet. He clambered into his litter. As the slaves lifted it, Saint Prescience wobbled into the courtyard.
“Divinity! Divinity!” cried the Saint. “We have her!”
Gronchard blinked. Once again, his heart rose. “What?”
“Divinity!” The fat old man rippled with excitement. “Terracotta floor tiles! Late afternoon! Images of a battle showing a mighty sword wielding champion in lamellar! She can only be in the Yinksi Republic.”
Gronchard clenched his fists. He wanted to believe so badly that it hurt. “Or some other Realm, far, far away and not in your records.”
“But the omens were promising today, Divinity,” said Saint Prescience. “The City of Yinkesia is a mere five translocations away.”
Gronchard shook his head. Judging by the emptiness of the hall, the Shell had no plans to settle down in that place. He was not going to risk running out of sacrifices during some ill-planned foray outside his Magisterium only to find she wasn’t there anyway. He had a far better plan. “Take me to the Temple of Omnipresence! Quickly!”
Chapter 6: Over the Edge!
Using Scout, Spider Climb 5/6, cost 1 Potestas, 5 of 3 Potestas remaining.
Below Torstag, the rock face changed without changing.
It was like that moment as a child when he discovered he could read the inscriptions in the ruined temple that made up one wall of his castle’s enclosure.
That had been, he realised, shortly before the Grey Cortège harvested him.
Now he could see every handhold, every ledge, all the way down to where the cliffs plunged into the ocean of clouds. If he fell, how long would he fall for?
You are Cautious.
Will 1 negated. You have issue Cowardice with 1/6 Hardening.
Ingar had wedged himself in a nook between a projecting shard of rock and the main cliff face.
Torstag told himself, “If I fall, I’ll reincarnate.”
Wrestling with Cowardice 1/6, cost 2 Potestas, 4 of 3 remaining.
What was that?
Wrestling with Cowardice 1/6, cost 2 Potestas, 4 of 3 remaining.
I meant, what were the odds? Tell me the odds.
Potestas loss overcomes Will 2.
You have Hindrance “Nerves”.
Heart hammering in his ears, foothold by foothold, he lowered himself over the void while the wind made his robe ripple and flap.
His right foot slipped, scraping the top of his toes, then snagged ano
ther ledge. He brought his other foot down, and shifted his weight to it, and suddenly he was moving across the rock face as easily as if he were strolling.
He slid into the notch beside Ingar. Only then did his fingers and toes decide to uncurl.
“Spider Climb, eh?” said Ingar. “Show off.”
Torstag closed his eyes and finally exhaled.
Current Form 5. Performing Scout at level 6.
Result = 6 (Performance) +2 (Feat) -1 (Luck) -2 (“Nerves”) -4 (Challenge) = 1.
Effect = Success.
2 points of Vitality used.
Toughness 1 surpassed exceeded.
Condition “Stunned”. Form 0. No Feats possible.
1 of 3 Vitality remaining.
“Are you okay?”
“Um…” said Torstag. “I…”
But his Tempter hadn’t finished:
Scout, Spider Climb advances to 6/6 Grasp and is secured.
You have secured a 3rd Scout Feat.
Scout advances to Level 2.
Select a new Scout Proficiency.
Different environments whirled across Torstag’s mind’s eye. He thought of the girl’s quest and picked the obvious one.
New Scout Proficiency, Jungle.
You have Levelled Up.
Level Up Surge.
8 Points of Grasp Advancement available.
Select a Vocation.
Scout.
Unlock a 4th Scout Feat.
Torstag dithered between Forage and Stalk, but then realised his immediate future might feature some sneaking around.
Scout, Stalk unlocked at 2/6 Grasp.
Advance or select a different Vocation?
Once he had escaped the monastery, he would need to be able to defend himself.
Warrior.
The images spiralled into nothingness then bloomed into a tree…the drawing of a tree on parchment. It bore the legend WARRIOR FEATS in several languages and more than one script, including something that looked like ochre hand prints. It was laid out much like the treasured genealogies in his family’s small library—assuming the castle still stood, of course. However, where each coat-of-arms should have hung, a moving image of a warrior bestrode the parchment, smiting, breaking, slashing, goring, throwing and otherwise doing violence to one or more shadowy figures. Heads and limbs flew off, reattached, flew off again. Bones crunched, skulls cracked…
Vocation “Warrior” unlocked at Level 0. 1 Feat required to advance to Level 1.
You may only use Warrior Feats when wielding weapons in which you have a Proficiency.
Select a Proficiency?
A variety of weapons leaned or hung from the main trunk of the tree, among them a familiar sword and shield, a longsword, a poleaxe and a spear—all weapons he had started training with scant weeks before the Grey Cortège harvested him. There were also more unfamiliar weapons like chain maces, disk flails and whip swords…something to explore later.
Torstag’s fingers curled. He’d always been drawn to the longswords in the castle armoury, especially the larger variants like his grandfather’s old greatsword and his brother’s new two-handed sword.
But the practical answer was obvious.
Proficiency, Brawling unlocked.
Further up the tree, warriors plied a variety of weapons, each illustrating a feat with names ranging from the evocative, like “Squinter”, through to the descriptive, like “Thwart Strike”.
Most of them seemed to need a weapon.
Then he spotted “Wrath Strike”. Judging from the little figures endlessly punching, hacking, knifing, and bludgeoning opponents into the ground, it did exactly what the name implied. Better yet, it would give him access to four more strikes, plus Feats that let him destroy shields and weapons once he did have a weapon proficiency.
He clenched his fist. Let’s have that!
You are Agile, so Warrior feats start at 2 Grasp.
Warrior, Wrath Strike unlocked at 2/6 Grasp and secured. 4 Points remaining.
You have 1 Warrior Feat. Warrior advances to Level 1. 3 Feats required to advance to Level 2.
Select a Proficiency.
He cast his eye over the Proficiency branch.
Once again the longsword called to him. However, what was he realistically going to get his hands on?
Probably not a real weapon. Perhaps a club, or a hammer.
There were military versions of both of those hanging next to a long war knife and a single-handed sword.
Proficiency, Sidearm unlocked.
Select a second Warrior Feat to unlock.
How about just hitting things even harder?
Warrior, Wrath Strike +1 unlocked at 2/6 Grasp
Put the points on that.
Warrior, Wrath Strike +1 secured. 0 Points remaining.
Select a 3rd Warrior Feat to unlock.
Split Shield looked…satisfying.
Warrior, Split Shield unlocked at 2/6 Grasp.
The tree faded. His muscles ached, as if he was having late growing pains.
Potestas reset and boosted. Hindrances cleared.
Vitality reset.
You are: Torstag, Human Warlock, Youth, Agile, Empathic, Cautious, Marked.
Potestas 8/4. Will 2. Cowardice 1/6.
Vitality 3. Toughness 1.
Vocations:
Cleric 1 (Learned): Meditation, Repel Shade 2/6.
Warlord 0 Tea Drinking 2/6.
Warrior 1 (Brawl, Sidearm): Wrath Strike +1, Split Shield 2/6
Scout 2 (Mountains, Forest, Jungle): Climb +1, Spider Climb, Stalk 2/6
Various General Skills.
Form 5.
Torstag felt stronger, tougher. He squared his jaw and somehow that brought back memories of his brother addressing his retainers before riding out that last time.
Ingar repeated. “Are you okay?”
Torstag flushed. “Another Surge.”
Ingar laughed. “Nothing to be ashamed of! Did you Level Up?”
Torstag nodded. “What does it mean?”
“You had a new vocation high score. Fuck me!” Ingar’s freckled face split into a wide grin. “It’s such a relief to talk about all this.”
“How do I know how to do all this?”
“You remembered, of course.”
“I don’t remember climbing a cliff, ever,” said Torstag. “And I just moved across that cliff face like I was walking to morning prayers.”
“You remembered from past incarnations, you fuckwit. Dead memories!”
“Gods!” Torstag sat in silence watching the flowing cloud beneath his feet.
A hawk flew past below the promontory.
Ingar glanced up at the sky. “Looks like rain. We wait until that drives off the monks, then climb back up.”
Torstag looked across the valley to the other mountain wall. It seemed closer now. “This is the first time I’ve been outside the boundaries of the monastery.
“How does you feel?”
Torstag furrowed his brow. “Like my own man…for real?”
“Fucking amazing, eh?” said Ingar. “When you start listening to your Tempter. You should see what else I can do!”
Torstag’s heart lurched. “Oh Gods!” he said. “I’ll be hollowed out!” He took a breath and wedged his fingers into a crack in the rock. “Are you hollowed out?”
“Out of here, for sure,” said Ingar.
Torstag’s voice rose. “Are you hollowed out?”
“This is why I stayed schtum before! I knew you’d freak out.”
“I am not freaking out,” said Torstag. “Answer the damn question.”
“What does that even mean?” said Ingar.
“I want to be my own man,” said Torstag, “not some dead man’s meat puppet.”
“I’m still me, just better at it.” Ingar grinned. “Now, fuck that for a pile of metaphysical horse-shit. We can escape together now. That’s the point.”
“We could get caught,” said Torstag.
“We�
��re already caught.”
“The punishment…” began Torstag.
“I don’t care any more,” said Ingar. “Not after seeing that girl and knowing what I’m missing—oh, what about the girl?”
Torstag frowned and stared over the edge. Far, far below, the white clouds foamed over the floor of the Untrodden Valley.
“Well?” prompted Ingar. “Did she…?”
“She told me that I was her protector in past incarnations. That I had to help her with her quest, and that when I was ready to escape, I should go and visit my past selves in the Catacombs of Hesitation.”
“Oh,” said Ingar. “That’s…cryptic? I need to think about that. What else?”
“She gave me a cup of tea.”
“I hope that was more exciting than it sounds,” said Ingar. “Because that’s all you’ll have to remember as you grow old and wrinkly on this mountainside. I’m off to…”
“…fuck all the women, drink all the beer,” said Torstag. “I know.”
“Perhaps they’ll let you tend the Temple of Gronchard,” said Ingar. “There’s a very nice statue of a lady there.”
“I’ll escape with you,” said Torstag. “I can climb now.”
“At last!” said Ingar. “Look.” He squirmed and twisted in the nook, cheerfully dangling one foot over the abyss.
“Careful!” gasped Torstag.
“Wimp!” said Ingar. He thrust his hand into a crack in the cliff and pulled out a leather bag. He placed it carefully in his lap then extracted an everlight on a pendant and a small leather-bound book. He flipped it open. “Here. I was going to write up a clean copy for you when you came round but…well, fuck it.”
The Jungle Tomb of the Ice Queen (The Flying Tooth Garden Book 1) Page 4