The Aspect: The Cessation's Harbinger

by Ajax Lygan

  Everyone took positions around the room. Riika used her super strength to jump straight into the patriarch’s bed, Saïgra and Ella began looking at the artifacts in the glass cases, while Tempest and Father Habernackle sprinted toward the study. Tempest initially started by pulling out books at random and flipping through them. Most were historical texts, apostle theory, and interpretation of the divine.

  Noticing that most of the books were dusty, he looked for any that seemed clean or recently pulled. He grabbed a thick tome that had a parchment sticking out from the pages. Tempest turned and placed it on the desk, flipping to the section with the parchment. The books pages had a sketched image that closely mirrored the painting in Father Habernackle’s office.

  “Father, what’s the significance of this image?” Tempest asked. “I’ve seen the one in your office that looks similar.”

  Father Habernackle leaned over the book and smiled. “This is Bothnan; a common depiction of his full body.”

  “Right, but he’s holding the dagger depicted on your ring and the amulets.”

  Father Habernackle raised his eyebrow and pulled off his ring. He leaned over the parchment, adjusting his glasses as he shifted between the image and the ring. “You know, I think you’re right. I-I never made the connection.” He chuckled as he looked back up at Tempest. “I think my eyesight is getting worse in my old age.”

  “What’s the significance about the dagger?”

  “Most people know Bothnan from his elefantin head. It’s stamped on all the coinage that the Bank of Bothnan produces. Now, when Bothnan’s full body is depicted, his hands are always holding two things: a scepter in his right hand, and a dagger in his left. The scepter is referred to as The Word. A lot of theorists can tell you a hundred different meanings and implications.”

  The little man straightened back up again. “My take is that with Bothnan being the god of commerce and trade, everything starts and works with discussions, negotiations, and, when needed, arbitration. Now the reason, I believe this, is because of the dagger. It’s known as The Cessation. When people stop negotiating or the freedom of arbitrage stops, then things tend to get violent. It is the end of any kind of progress you could have made using The Word. Some people believe The Cessation is a sign of the end of all creation on Iðna.”

  It felt like a thousand prickling spiders crawled over Tempest’s body as he listened to the father’s words. Things were starting to fall in place, now, that were too coincidental to not be truths. He set his palm over his mouth as he rolled out the parchment that was stuck in the pages.

  We are Iais’s original designs -

  mighty and few

  But the gods and goddesses of Iðna

  formed something new.

  Abominations we believe never should have been.

  For their power, unyielding and great

  tipping the balanced winds of fate,

  breaks every rule we have created,

  And for this, we will not be sated

  Until they’re buried for eternity

  So Iðna’s people can remain free.

  That is The Cessation’s Creed.

  Tempest grit his teeth and flipped the table over. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. His companions ran over at the first sound of trouble.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?” Ella asked.

  “It’s this Cessation,” Tempest said, throwing his arms out at the table. “I’m the reason they are attacking us and everyone around us… Just because I am the Aspect.”

  “Why, though?”

  “I don’t know!” Tempest shouted, pacing back and forth. “They have some ideology that they don’t believe the Aspect should exist. Just look at this fucking paper!” Tempest stamped toward Ella and handed it to her. As Ella read through the paper with Saïgra, Riika walked over to try to calm Tempest down.

  “Hey, hey,” she said, holding out her hands in front of Tempest. “I’m supposed to be the hot headed one, not you.”

  Tempest glared at her as he continued to pace. “I’m just fucking angry, you know? They don’t even know me, and they just want to lock me up or kill me, and everyone else associated with me? Why? I didn’t do anything to them.”

  “I don’t know,” Riika said, shrugging. “There are people in this world who will judge you just by the way you look, what race you are, or because your favorite color is blue. I know that more than anyone.”

  “But how do you live with that?”

  “Some days I can’t,” Riika said, crossing her arms and leaning up against the wall. “Some days I just want to crawl into a hole and never come out of it. But if I did that, then they would win.” Riika walked over and placed her hands onto Tempest’s shoulders. “Don’t let them win.” She pulled his head into her chest with a small thump.

  “Ow,” he said as the two experienced a small laugh. When he was ready, he pulled his head up and leaned in for a kiss. Riika’s thick lips were a welcome distraction he wanted to enjoy for every moment of every day.

  “Your Eminence, come quick,” Father Habernackle called. Riika gave Tempest a firm smack on the bottom as he pulled away to see the father’s new findings. He was standing over a thin book that sat opened on the upended desk.

  “What have you found?”

  “It’s a ledger,” he breathed. “If I’m reading this right, Patriarch Markov has been stealing from the church for years.”

  “That’s horrible and I understand your concern, however, how does this help us?”

  “This ledger isn’t showing how much he stole from the church directly; it shows how he’s been masking various purchases as church expenditures. It includes dates, items, and locations.”

  Ella stepped to the side of Father Habernackle and began scanning the pages. “If it contains a pattern, maybe we could find out where the patriarch would have fled to.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Lady Fleetfoot. It’s very likely the Bank has been unknowingly funding this Cessation.”

  Tempest smiled before he began issuing orders. “That’s great, the both of you focus on that. Riika, I want you to stand guard up front and monitor our friends. Keep the door locked, and if either of them attempts to wake up, you know what to do.”

  “Got it,” Riika said, turning and jogging into the other room.

  Saïgra took a step forward, her hands clasped together. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Tempest nodded and grabbed Saïgra’s hand as he led her to the kitchen area. When he looked up, he recognized her face was red. “You okay?” he asked.

  “O-Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, waving her hand at him. “How can I help?”

  Tempest leaned in to whisper. “I’m wondering if you can check with Queen Maileath and see if she knows anything about this Cessation. Was she aware there was a group that was hunting Aspects or why they would want to?”

  Without hesitation, Saïgra replied. “No, she’s never heard of a shadow group known as The Cessation. However, if they are hunting, killing, or imprisoning Aspects, then that would explain why there hasn’t been one around for centuries.”

  “But why would they attack them in the first place?” As Tempest leaned against the nearby cabinets, he saw Saïgra’s red eyes glow.

  “I think I can explain why this group would have been created.”

  “Queen Maileath?” Tempest asked.

  The Queen nodded. “It’s harbored from jealousy and fear. Their own creed tells you that. They seem to believe that the Aspect should not exist; that they are granted powers which influence the world. That’s the jealousy but doesn’t describe the fear.”

  Tempest slowly looked up and shifted his stance. “Why do I have a suspicion there’s something that you’re not telling me?”

  Queen Maileath let out a sigh and moved in close. “There are certain things you should know, specifically the history around the Aspects. There are four in the public record, most that many consider legend today. Joromund K’Naan the Prophet, Ulfur S
eabeard the Explorer, Norra Oceanglade the Green Thumb, and Cratus Shatterhorn the Gladiator. All exceptional individuals who performed great feats that changed the world. However, there are three others that came after Cratus that very few would know. Nerowin Q’Nevinter the Addict, Mevun Root the Tragedy, and Draven Morravenus the Blood Ripper.”

  “Just by the names alone, I can surmise why they were stricken from the record.”

  Queen Maileath slowly nodded. “Nerowin was an elven prince, gifted in the arts of persuasion. He squandered his gifts to live in a stupor. It was originally thought he was going to broker a peace, unheard of in the IRC. However, he was easily tempted by the vices of the world. Once the leaders of the IRC got their hooks into him, he was a game piece removed from the board. They paid him in pleasures of the mind and flesh. He lived out his days on Joromund’s Peak in an orgasmic stupor until he eventually died choking on his own vomit.”

  “I mean, it all sounded good until the last part,” Tempest said chuckling. Queen Maileath glared at him until he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her. He cleared his throat before moving on. “The second sounds familiar.”

  “As it should,” Queen Maileath said, crossing her arms. “Mevun’s negligence left a physical scar on the world of Iðna along her southern coast. Mevun was a bearin wizard in the art of evocation. He could make it rain fire from the sky, create rivers by moving the earth, and produce lightning from his bare hands. However, Mevun was young and easily manipulated by his first love, an arachne sorceress whose own troubled upbringing fueled her desire for more power.”

  The ancient Queen shook her head. “This led them on a dark path of blood magic. In her own desire for power, Mevun’s companion performed a ritual that went horribly wrong. The magical energy needed was astronomical and ended up backfiring on her. Mevun, who was with her, attempted to counter the spell, but he was not experienced enough, much like his lover. The resulting explosion destroyed an entire city overnight.”

  “Wow, that kind of magic is possible?”

  “That is the genuine power of an experienced Aspect. However, until one grows and learns to control it, it can be just as dangerous. Shortcuts only open up a world of catastrophe.”

  “And the last one?”

  Queen Maileath chewed on her lip, taking a moment to think before continuing. “I hesitate to even tell you this one.”

  “I mean the name kind of gave it away, but it’s bad, isn’t it?”

  Queen Maileath nodded. “Draven Morravenus was more of a beast than a man. He was a well-hidden secret kept from the world by the vampire families. This is all hearsay, but it’s always been rare for an Aspect to show up with no one noticing. They are usually identified at birth or in childhood. Whatever method of containment they used to contain Draven was eventually broken. The vampire families played ignorant as he hunted the people of Kerrbatuul.”

  With a shrug, she continued. “I don’t know how the rumors spread, but they did. The rumors foretold that it was an Aspect that was killing people. At that point, no one would go near them. Night after night he would hunt and kill until his appetite was satiated. No one knows how or why it stopped, but eventually it did. That was the last time the people of Iðna had a living Aspect until you.”

  Tempest slid his palm down his face and hung it over his chin. “No wonder they want me dead. If people believe the Aspects are capable of such atrocities, then it’s only natural for them to fear me.” Tempest pushed himself off of the counter and turned toward Queen Maileath. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to find out.”

  “But now I have people hunting me because of what the previous Aspects have done. I had every right to know.”

  Queen Maileath reached out and grabbed Tempest’s hands. “I know, and for that I am deeply, truly sorry. I never would have imagined something like this could have happened. I wanted to spare you from this burdening your mind. I was so hopeful in how you presented yourself, and inspired, when you told me what your aspirations were, that I didn’t want to cloud that with what had happened in the past.” Tempest placed his palms on his hips and turned away. He felt Queen Maileath’s hands wrap around his waist as she pressed into him. “Please forgive me,” she whispered, her voice on the verge of trembling. Tempest turned around and wiped the tear from her face.

  “Of course, I forgive you. Just be open and honest with me about everything going forward.”

  Ella’s call from across the room cut their moment short.

  “Tempest, Saïgra, come quick.”

  The two rushed over to the table. Ella and Father Habernackle were speaking quickly back and forth as the two approached. Ella ripped out a page in the book while Father Habernackle flipped the book on top of a world map.

  “We found the pattern. Each entry is broken out by cost, resource and then a set of numbers. We assumed the numbers were a code. They were, but thanks to Father Habernackle’s familiarity with the Bothnan Book of Tenants, he was able to crack them fairly easily. They are translated into two sets of coordinates, one sending and one receiving. When we began plotting the coordinates, we quickly realized there was only one set of coordinates that only receives.”

  Father Habernackle shoved the map forward and pointed on the map. “There is a chain of islands in between Halairim and Aerlanthir. I know little about them, but the coordinates put them right there. If I was a betting man, I would guess that’s where they’ve fled. The type of shipments sent are weapons, armor, food, and supplies.”

  “These numbers are definitely a concern,” Ella said, pointing to the ledger. “If we go, we should go expecting heavy resistance.”

  “How would we get there?” Tempest asked.

  Ella rolled up the world map and stuffed the ledger trip in her side pouch. “Looks like we’re going to need a boat.”

  11

  Amnesty

  “Where the fuck are all the ships?” Riika asked, panting. When the group had arrived at the docks coming back from The Academy, every pier had been full of tied-off ships.

  Now it looked like a ghost town.

  The journey across the city was long and arduous. Several times the group was mistaken for city guards split from a platoon; easy pickings for a mob. It felt like they were running non-stop since they left the bank. Then once they arrived at the docks, dozens of city guards were stopping everyone, letting no one through without a proper writ of approval. Thankfully, Saïgra was able to use her vines, as makeshift grappling hooks, to allow everyone who wasn’t Tempest the ability to climb the city’s walls.

  “They probably bailed as soon as the city started burning,” Ella said.

  “I don’t blame them, the people in this city are crazy,” Tempest said, rotating his shoulders. “Let’s head further down the docks. Maybe there’s some ships still docked we just can’t see yet.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Riika said, hunched over. “Let’s find the closest tavern and take a breather. We’ve been running for miles and I’m just not built for that.” Tempest turned and looked at the faces of his companions. Sweat dripped from their bodies, their hair matted into rat’s nests, and they were panting up a storm.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. If there are still some boat crews left, they could also be grabbing something to eat, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check either.”

  The waves brushing up the dock’s pilings made for an ominous echo as they headed further down the docks. Normally a bustling circus, the town’s docks were now an eerily silent graveyard with no other soul around. The massive warehouses that housed large logistical storage were chain locked with no lights indicating a presence.

  It took Tempest and his companions almost ten minutes before they reached any sign of life among the docks. A glowing yellow light of a nearby inn and tavern shined through the smoky haze as they ventured forth.

  “The Mermaid’s Clam,” Tempest said, looking up at the hanging wooden sign.

&nbs
p; “Well, sailors aren’t known for being subtle,” Riika said, snickering.

  “What do you think? Should we try here?”

  “Good place as any.” Tempest grabbed the metal handle and opened the door for his companions. Once they were through the door, he followed them in. The main floor had a dozen wooden tables with four empty chairs each save for a few patrons. To their left, booths lined along the entire wall, giving those that wanted a bit more privacy an option. To the right, stairs headed upward to a second level that Tempest assumed housed the rooms. Beyond the stairs were two doors and a bar.

  A dwarven man, who was much too tall for the room he was standing in, helmed the bar. His back had a hunch in it, most likely from years of bending down due to his size. His brown eyes glistened in the orange light that filled the room from the fireplace lining the opposite wall. When Tempest approached, he glared at him, pointing at the doorway they just entered.

  “Whoa now, this is a sailor’s only bar, and you are not sailors. So, you can mosey yourselves back into the city where you came from.”

  Tempest turned to Riika and put his hand out. “Riika,” he said, standing there waiting.

  Riika, hearing her name like a trigger word, pulled Lightning Breath from her back and wedged it into the top of the bar. Tempest’s eyes went wide as the barkeep began to growl.

  “Riika! What are you…? That’s not what I meant. Hand me your endless bag.”

  “Oh, well, how was I supposed to know,” she said, pulling her bag from her hip and tossing it to Tempest. She pulled Lightning Breath from the top of the bar, causing that side to cave in, sending wood chips all over the floor.

  Tempest took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. He reached into the pouch, grabbed a handful of coins, and slammed them on the bar in front of him. “We’re looking for some information,” he said, furrowing his brow.

  The dwarven barkeep put down the cloth he was holding and pressed his knuckles into the counter, the bar creaking under his weight. “You think you can come into my bar, break my shit and then pay me off for whatever the fuck you need?”