The vessel itself had worked better than he'd expected and now about him men worked together to tease out further teething issues upon her maiden voyage. She was no Stormkite, that was for sure. Less aerodynamic she limbered over the sky and into the above with a churning of the atmosphere. She creaked loudly with each gust of the wind yet she held. By the Three she held. Ugly as she were, she would do. He'd christened her the Hope. After what he'd known they lacked down below. They had even managed to salvage a few guns from the kite’s wreckage. Munitions too. He doubted they would move through the clouds in this weather, yet it was enough to ease his mind to have such protection should the drakes fancy a mid-morning snack. With no cover, Hope was all they had. Hope would have to do.
“What of those two?” She asked loudly pointing toward the two they had picked up in the world below. Tied to the mast and struggling against their bonds to no avail. He felt guilt at the boy. He recognised him from the crew. He wanted to welcome him back. He'd been a good sky sailor. For now he'd remain a prisoner. Turned hearts were a dangerous thing upon a vessel such as this.
***
Fear worked itself over him with a ferocity he'd not expected. The ship lurched as the man at the wheel successfully navigated their way through several close calls. The bursting energy of the clouds, violent and roiling now released. One strike is all it would take and their voyage would end prematurely. Finished upon their maiden voyage. This raft with its many balloons and many engines would perish to the depths of the surface world. All upon her lost to the merciless sky. The risks had always been the same yet he'd always had an element of control over his fate. Now, lashed to the mast in a desperate act of mistrust that was taken away. Sweat worked its way from his brow down his face, giving rise to the chill of the cruel wind as their altitude increased. He reached with his bound hand around the post to the fingers of the girl. He felt her trembling through the tips of her fingers. Fear had taken her too. This small comfort he could give her. For now it was all, for now it would have to be enough.
“I'm scared” she called.
“Me too, I think everybody is” there was no room for bravado this time.
“What are they doing?” She asked.
“It seems the captain wishes to lay low in the heat of the storm, perhaps wait until its tail to pass through the sea of clouds and back to Neta” his assumptions partially correct caught the attention of Orochi and his new helmswoman who came bounding across the makeshift ship’s flimsy deck. Would it be enough to hold them through the maelstrom?
“What do you know of the captain’s plans?” Asked the woman sharply. Her auburn hair and short stature giving rise to the meanness of her presentation.
“Somebody has the hots for old Orochi” he retorted ignoring the question roundly. To give it credence with an answer would be to legitimise her position. Raising her palm she slapped him roundly about the face, knocking his head against the mast. It stung. He could taste the pain in his mouth as it smarted.
“Now now, Jak my boy,” Orochi laughed, “you think that's any way to talk to a lady?” His laughter, infectious, spread to her. “Despite, it seems, having a fair lady of your own you have learned next to nothing since we last met.”
“She isn't my lady” he protested.
“It didn't seem that way when we found you both stranded in the jungle, is this any way to speak to your saviours?” He asked and retorted at the same time.
“She is simply somebody I am close to, she is her own woman. Saviours? What tells you we didn't have the situation under control?”
“Indeed, waiting for the old man?” Asked Orochi.
“Where is he?” Armatrine asked, a sudden panic in her voice.
“Fear not child, he is close by. Closer perhaps than you imagine.” He taunted. The violence he wished to permit upon them apparent in his twisted sneer.
“You lie!” She protested, sudden strength surging within her.
“Ha ha child, either I'm lying or I'm telling the truth, one offers comfort, one does not and he may believe what ye like but neither changes the situation very much, as I see it there's no choice.” He barked the words as they stumbled over one another to spill from his mouth.
“You’re a cruel man Captain Orochi!” She spat.
“Aye, I'm the cruelest, lass” he commented. “Never forget it!” his voice edged harder.
“What will you do to us?” She asked plainly.
“Well that depends on what ye have to offer, but the way I see it, you’re stuck” the captain growled. In the distance drakes screeched at the approaching storm.
~The Nowhere~
~ Second of the Crop, Song of Sorrow ~
The greatest of powers
The vilest of beauties
Fear and faith incarnate
Watching over all
- The book of the Reen. Holy scripture.
She held a beauty, that was certain. Whatever else could be said of her, she was the most beautiful creature Euricles Arlandus had ever laid his old eyes upon. Beautiful enough to entice feelings he'd not felt since the youth of his physical body. Now they flooded him with hormones, forcing him to blush. His red cheeks the physical tell of a man in trouble deeper than his head. He felt as if he'd wandered aeons to arrive in her presence. He'd always known this was where he would be. It had been the journey that had remained uncertain. Around him the lush woodland of the underworld had vanished, melting away to pure whiteness, a realm of the cognition. Reality escaped his conscious grasp. Or had his consciousness escaped the grasp of reality? He'd no idea. Frankly, it didn't matter.
She sat naked before him, a smile pressed upon her lips. Neither spoke for some time. Around him time passed in no time at all. There was silence and there was presence and for a while that was enough.
“Welcome” she spoke finally.
“Who are you?” He asked, courage to speak to one such as her a rarity to a man such as him.
“You know my name, you swear by it. You and your kind. Your Order especially. I have lived by many. The all mother. The maker. The matriarch, yet you know me as the Three.” She smiled sadly. “It is truly the mark of a mother to be left behind by her creations is it not, thus is the burden of unbridled godhood.”
“We have not forgotten you, I swear it, we are only diminished in number, but with time we shall grow. I shall see to it” he promised loudly.
“Swear to who?”
“To the Thre... to you” he corrected himself clumsily causing her to smile.
“Mortals are hilarious and tragic at once. Do you not think so Euricles Arlandus?” She asked playfully.
“If mortals are of divine making, and tragedy and joy are from mortals then it stands to reason that tragedy and joy are both divine in nature. Therefore your statement is one of profound truth” he bowed himself into the ground. At least he thought it to be. In truth he knew it could be anything.
“It's about perception” she smiled wryly. “The value of all things is in how they are perceived. I have some perceptions I would share if you can find the time to spare” she offered.
“Yes your worship.” He remained bowed deeply, much in the way he'd been taught as an acolyte.
“Come up child” he was ordered. “I would look upon your face.”
He followed suit quickly. It would not suit to offend the Three. “What can I do to save Neta?” He asked suddenly. He'd no inkling the words would spill forth his lips until they had. He wished he could put them back inside.
“Neta,” she smiled, “do you know how it came to be?” Her voice took a suddenly serious tone. He knew this would be the purpose of their meeting.
“Lifted aloft the world to save humanity from the apex below, those who hunted, those who would survive upon the flesh of those cast in the light of righteousness” he told her. His devotion to the cause shone in his words.
“Child no” she stopped. “Look me in the eye, you have seen the world below, were you murdered, were you hunted? D
id monsters come to collect you in the night to make a meal from your ancient bones?” She seemed angry. Arlandus felt a sinister chill run down his spine. He would need to use his words carefully. She was the Three. An all- powerful being capable of much more than he, capable of ending his existence. His own power came directly from her. As a tool for her will, she could simply discard him as she wished.
“No, although I am still there now, in physical form” he answered.
“Yes, but no harm shall come to you, you will survive, you will flourish Euricles Arlandus” she informed him.
“What would you have of me?” He questioned.
She smiled thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you know of my true nature?”
“Your grace?” He asked taken aback.
“It is true that I represent a trinity yet my true nature is hidden. There is one more, one who has remained hidden for so long within. One who now requires the adoration I receive, if not then the nature of all creation shall be risked in the name of equilibrium.”
“Equilibrium?” he asked.
“You are a man of learned nature, of intelligence, of knowledge. Surely you see the balance in flux, all of life and death hang in a state of equilibrium.” In her hand she formed ashes, turning them to a growing orchid, it bloomed petals white, its seeds sowing upon the winds before returning to the dust from which it had been formed. “My true nature must be appeased or all that is, shall cease. I created the life upon which she feeds, yet that life would now starve her, you must believe, you must know, you must love her as you love me . For are we not the same?” He shook to the core.
“Mitrick?” He asked suddenly.
“Do not feel sorrow for the young fool.” She stated. “He himself was in the perfect state of flux to be used in the most divine of evils.” She spoke sadly, as if she herself had not caused the situation. Arlandus remained silent. Inside he reeled. Unable to find the words he remained silent and held back the tears. “He is simply fulfilling his divine purpose,” she continued, “he will be judged as so. He is the one who brought the conditions to the minds of mortals in order for my plan to come to fruition.” He remained caught. Unable to speak. He thrived in the scope of his beliefs and what he was being told contradicted entirely all he'd known.
“I must find a way to stop him, before he brings all to ruin!” He protested aloud. His courage borne of the foolhardiness only mortal men can possess.
“Do not think yourself as so up high that you, Euricles, could subvert the will of the divines!” Her voice boomed, echoing from the vacuum of the nowhere in which he found himself. Inside his mind a shriek poured through the very fibre of his being, tearing at the sinew of his mortality and unspooling his mind. He steeled himself, preparing for the end. Whatever would come he was certain it would be unpleasant.
“So why the girl?” He asked quickly. He had to know.
She sneered in front of him before settling into the position she had sat before. “All shall be revealed in time master Arlandus” she spoke. She shone with divine light. “Know this, in the beginning we were four, revered and loved. Yet the realm of men, in its fear of its own mortality could not bring itself to worship at the feet of the one whom would finish them” she spoke sadly. “Unable to see past the one life they possess they starved her, they saw fit for her to perish in the name of the Order. I tell you, with certainty Euricles, do not interfere or this shall be the end of all.”
“Madness!” He bellowed. “If I do nothing then this evil shall triumph.”
“Not so” she stated calmly. Her patience returning. “The path is already set, the journey undertaken and the destination reached. Each player is performing their parts perfectly, it is only time that must catch up to that which has already been.”
He thought for a moment in silence. “I do not understand” he bowed his head in apology.
“Nor will you, for it is not your place to, but know this. It is your place this time to stand by and do nothing for the will of the Three to triumph. Do nothing in my name.” She commanded.
“Yes your Eminence” he confirmed, conforming to her wishes.
“Then know this, the Order upset the balance and so it must fall to those who remain of their number to set motions right again.”
“Am I not one of the Order?” He asked.
“Indeed you are, as you must be, but this time leave it to others. There is a plan for you beyond this Arlandus and you must play your role lest the scheme be ruined,” her face darkened at the prospect, “and if this scheme should fail it is you who shall be responsible, in all of cosmic time and space, it shall be you who is hated among all, it is you who shall be responsible for the end of everything. For sometimes some things must end at the expense of the others being saved. Those left behind must be ready to start again, do you understand?” She asked. The harshness of her words settled upon his skin like pinpricks.
“Yes my goddess” he answered. His world, his perceptions, everything he'd held to be close shaken.
“Then go and act no more. For the time of action has passed young devout” she smiled, beautifully, sickly. It spread across her lips like the sweetest decay. She was gorgeous in a way no other could be, she was life and death, in unison. A cycle of life and death reclaiming control. What could one such as he do to stand in her way? Naught but a lumbering homunculus before her glory. A storm upon the horizon edging closer. A tornado of fire to scorch to ashes all he loved and rebuild it within her image. Yet powerless, he could do nothing to save anything. She reached her tender hand, softly touching the skin of his arm.
“Be safe Euricles, this is not the final time we make communion, do not be injured by your own misadventure in the name of foolhardy courage. Promise me, Arlandus” her words, as soft as her touch, strummed upon the strings of his heart as of a lyre.
“It is promised.” he spoke as she did.
Suddenly he was in the world under the cloud sea. A sharpness snapped upon his conscious as if awakening suddenly from the deepest of dreams. Yet he remembered everything, her scent, her radiance, the power emanating from her existence. She touched him in his deepest place and yet he felt wellbeing. All would perish yet nothing mattered. Unable to move he opened the gift. It was imperative. It was all of great worth.
Dupree, are you there? We need to speak. There is much of which you must know before time runs short.
He hoped, oh how he hoped for response.
~Skirmsh~
~Second of the Crop, song of sorrow~
She falls under the lilac,
A twisted burning machination
Of one so dark
Ready to thrust her hatred on the world.
- Prayer to the Three from an unknown source
Mitrick Tenebris looked pridefully at his reflection in the mirror hung upon the wall of his parlor room. To any ordinary man this operation would prove exhausting to the point of impossibility. Running a military force, building a fortress unlike any seen upon the sky currents and successfully fooling a weak and needy monarch would take its toll upon an ordinary man, yet here he was. More than ordinary. Special. One chosen by the divine.
He eyed the corpse across the room, her reflection lay beautiful as her body cooled to the waiting grip of rigor mortis. Taking her life force had been as easy as the others. He'd plied her mortal frame with the glory of her desires. To be drunk, to be pleasured, to be loved. The ritual itself no different than the hundreds of others who had made their way to his bed. The bottle felt heavier than ever. Like a serpent who had swallowed a large meal, he would feel no desire to slake his lust for some time. He pressed the pendant to his chest as the magic soaked from the pewter bottle into the flesh of his decaying body. It was the magic that kept him beautiful, the magic which kept him lithe and spry, desirable to those he preyed upon. An apex predator among the mortals who would fear and curse him of only they could know. A lich. Neither living nor dead he prevailed. That was a power in itself, but nothing compared to what he'd
received. The pendant hummed lightly, its cool touch a comfort in the heat of the fortress.
He would need to dispose of the body. Killed by holy rite or otherwise, by the laws of the men over which he presided murder was murder. It would not do to be caught tossing the corpse of a young woman from the side. He’d a hatch. A room for the disposal of corpses through the bottom of Skirmsh. Nobody need be any wiser. She would tumble to nothing, forgotten to all but himself. Her life force one with his own. She served a purpose greater than ever she would know.
A creak across the floorboards pulled him violently to the present from the thoughts in his head. Across the room she sat. Beautiful and deadly. He bowed before her silently, the locks upon his head dangling at his shoulders. She wore a slip and veil of the darkest pitch. Hiding yet accentuating her slender form.
“Rise my knight” she commanded. He did as bade. It would serve him not to defy the source of his power.
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