Chapter 4 - Holey Pokie
Immortal? No. We do not call your kind Immortal. We call you the Frozen, for you do not change. You do not forget. You drown in memories as if they had just happened. Your people hold old grudges, little one. Here. Let me show you…
The night was the kind of insufferably quiet that most people would've described as the calm before the storm. As a matter of fact, it was a lot more like the storm that nobody was awake to hear, and this insufferable silence that said nothing at all about what was actually happening continued into the morning. Kitti was exhausted. No, actually she was annoyed; she left the good-natured exhaustion to Astaroth. After Peregrine had told her of the White Ravens' escape, she had wanted nothing more than to chase full after them, but there had simply been too much work to do. It had taken a great deal of magic even with their various vassals to clean the streets of all the dung, then identify and transport everyone to the lodgings that had initially been assigned them. The neat rows of tent cabins were now full of peacefully snoring people, thanks to them.
And then there were the guests they couldn't account for. Pahndora, Brie, the dragons, and the other Immortals that had stayed housed in the tent had been unaffected by the sleeping spell that had been woven into the barrier that protected the carnival, and that was to be expected, but there were others. Holmer and Cherilyn of the Shire should have returned from their errand with the Witch of the Water some time ago, but neither hide nor hair of them had been seen as the sleeping people were carried away. Likewise, a handful of influential Immortals were missing, not to mention a rather random mortal and both Jorick and Nemo. With the two extra Immortals they had found randomly dead in the streets, it brought their death tally up to four Immortals and one mortal in one day. The real question, and the one that was currently bringing the crease to her delicate brows, was why. What was going on? Immortals blended magnificently into the ranks of the mortals, but Kitti was raised to know better than to think they were at all similar.
Creatures that did not die, especially OLD creatures that did not die like the first-generations, fundamentally could not connect with creatures that did. Whatever was happening, she was certain it had something to do with whatever a bunch of meddlesome Immortals had planned for what they thought to be good reasons, or at the very least for their own amusement. Trouble, the lot of them. They were no better than monsters, playing with life and death as if it was some grand game. What was worse was that she could tell they thought she, and the other Imperatores, could just be manipulated like that, as if the mortals didn't know better and couldn't fight for themselves. She didn't know what was going on, no, but she was definitely going to find out, and she knew it all had to start with Jorick.
Her friend had been acting odd lately. Odder than usual, that was. In the days before he'd suddenly turned into a chocolate dog, he'd been restless and unhappy, and she had, on occasion, overheard him talking to Astaroth about strange nightmares. He described in detail dreams of standing in front of a field of trees and watching them warp into enormous monsters he'd never seen before. Often there were people with him. For some, he had seemed to know who they were while in the dreams, but when he woke up, their identities escaped him. At other times one of the other Imperatores was with him. The dreams had gotten worse, and then one day a dog made completely of chocolate had appeared in their meeting hall. She and Astaroth had waited and waited to start the meeting, and when they'd asked where Jorick was, Nemo had pointed straight at him and said, "What're you talking about? That's Jorick."
They hadn't been rulers for very long, and it wasn't like she knew the man very well, but she had trusted him implicitly. When Nemo had told them all a few days later that they had needed to assemble on the edge of the Creacon Forest, because Jorick had said he'd hidden something important there, she had gone without complaint. Now, though, she was rather curious as to why he'd really hidden this prophecy in the abandoned forest of Creacon, where he had gotten it in the first place, and why he had suggested a carnival like this or the barrier with the sleeping spell built-in.
The strange thing was that she couldn't seem to find him at all, nor any of his Egos, nor even his late interpreter, Nemo. She pressed her lips together, an uneasiness in her heart. It hadn't struck her as odd that Nemo was the only one who could understand Jorick after his transformation, because they had always seemed to understand each other better than most. She now had to wonder if this faith in them had been misguided. The problem was that she had needed them. Her father had died, his trusted general Grumpy had been going on murdering rampages, and the monsters in Galer had started acting strangely. No one had ever seen the monsters band together and attack settlements as a unit. Attack their mines and places of strength intentionally, as if meaning to weaken them structurally. She'd been crowned Empress for less than a month before she was utterly swamped. When her childhood friend, the Duke Astaroth, had introduced Jorick and Pahndora to her as trusted advisors, she hadn't had time to question it. When her beloved maid Brie had done something similar with Nemo, it hadn't even crossed her mind as suspicious. She should have known better, but all three of them had immediately made themselves indispensable.
A hand touched her shoulder, and Kitti flinched, instinctively raising a hand as if to protect herself, but it was just Astaroth; both he and Peregrine were watching her with concern. "I've been calling you." He told her, gravely.
"Oh." She brushed a lock of her light hair out of her face. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?" The three of them were standing in front of the area Grumpy and his bandits had escaped from, and she realized she'd been zoning out as Astaroth checked to make sure it really had mended itself properly. They probably should have done it earlier, but Peregrine and Winter had told her Nemo was watching it, and that Red Needle of Grumpy's was temporary against stronger spells like this massive barrier, which they had spent a few days preparing. It was a menial task, and everything else had been taken care of, so she'd just relaxed a bit.
"Are you alright?" He leaned down a bit so that his eyes were level to hers, a habit he'd taken to when he'd first started growing so much taller than her at age 13. That hadn't been more than four years ago, but it felt like an age. It also served to make it more difficult for Peregrine to hear him, allowing her a little privacy.
She smiled at him reassuringly, her long-time friend giving her a little extra peace of mind. "I'm perfectly alright. Just thinking. What was it you were trying to tell me?"
He shook his head slightly, to suggest it hadn't been too important compared to her well-being, but raised his voice and spoke to both her and Peregrine. "Just saying the trail left by the Red Needle should last for maybe a week. He put a lot of power into it this time. It doesn't seem like he's heading towards Galer, though. He must have seen the mountains get destroyed."
The former Empress pursed her lips, the cogs in her head clearly turning. "Then it's even more important we get him back. I'd like to know a little more about what destroyed the entrance to Galer, if the dragons were telling the truth. Do you have any idea where he is heading, if not Galer? We can't let him leave Iwaku." Peregrine shifted uncomfortably, and Astaroth seemed unable to speak for a moment, causing her to actually stop and properly give the two of them a look. "What is it?" The other two Imperatores hadn't passed through the barrier, but a little tracking spell to determine where the Red Needle's trail led shouldn't have been too difficult.
"It seems like they're heading to Anaia's Cliffs." He told her uneasily. That got her attention. "They're not there yet, but it seems they know where they're going because they're making practically a direct line for it." Kitti's alarmed grey eyes met his, and she realized he was staring at her with a similar expression of worry. Peregrine, for her part, was having difficulty looking at either of them at all. None of the Imperatores had really been concerned about the Immortal Hunter until they'd decided to overthrow the previous rulers, but unlike the others, the Avian was a native of the Overlands, as the Galerians called the rest of Iwaku. Her people had inhabited one of the last forests before the desolation of the Dreaded Cliffs. She had been raised with stories about those cliffs, and none of them were good.
Kitti shook her head, blonde curls bouncing with the violent motion of denial. "Grumpy has never been outside of Galer before, he shouldn't even know where that is."
Peregrine interjected, still refusing to look at either of them, voice flat. "Nothing survives there. Does he know that?"
"It is possible." Astaroth responded, dully. "He was a good general. It was his job to study old battles and the lay of the lands of Iwaku." The Immortal Hunter was nowhere near as well-known in Galer as the Nonexistent, but they had their stories, too. He turned to Kitti again. "I was thinking perhaps something happened to Holmer and Cherilyn. Maybe he got attracted to their magic." He spoke dubiously, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself.
Kitti almost wished it was that simple, even if it meant something had gone wrong. "It's too far away for even Grumpy to sense something like that. The carnival was easy to track because it was a large concentration of magic. The two of them are less noticeable." Try as she might to think of some other reason for him to have made a beeline to that area, no ready explanation came to mind for what could be going on. She found herself worrying her bottom lip, and forced herself to stop. She didn't want Peregrine to see any signs of weakness, especially since she was no longer sure who she could trust. She tugged lightly on Astaroth's lapel, pulling him slightly away from the other Imperatrix. "What do you think is going on, Astaroth? Really. Do you think the pandemic actually has anything to do with the prophecy? Why did Jorick seem to know so much about it?" She searched his face, praying he could still be trusted, as she had trusted him for so long.
What she saw relieved her. His eyes were filled with a genuine mix of doubt and confusion. "I don't know." It was all he had to say, and Kitti couldn't blame him for not adding to that statement. It pretty much summed up her own thoughts and feelings on the matter. The longer she ruled, the more she felt convinced she didn't know anything after all.
"We have to find him." She said. They both knew she wasn't talking about Grumpy, even though finding him had been the topic that had started the conversation.
"I know." He replied just as gravely as before. "I'm sorry. I really thought he could be trusted."
"That doesn't matter now." She brushed off his apology, secure again in the knowledge that he was on her side. Letting him go, she checked on Peregrine, who was eyeing them anxiously. She didn't want to suspect the poor girl, who had initially been sent as almost a sacrifice in exchange for the Galerians' help in killing off the monsters in her area, but Kitti had figured out upon ascending the throne of Galer that what she wanted only rarely aligned with what she had to do. Now she was responsible not only for Galer, if there was a Galer to go back to, but for all of Iwaku. She drew closer to the Avian. "The scream of the Red Needle is strong enough to last a few days, normally, but it's never been seen in the Overlands. Keep watch of it."
Peregrine gave the slightest frown, and Kitti worried for a second that she was going to object for one reason or another, but she kept her mouth shut. That was almost more worrisome.
"Is something the matter?" The Empress didn't change her smile.
The problem was a lot smaller than she'd expected. "Oh. You called it a scream. I wasn't sure what you meant for a moment."
It was easy to forget, at times, the things Peregrine didn't know because she had joined them after the fall of Grumpy. Kitti relaxed slightly. "Ah." She spoke quickly, keeping her explanation as short as possible. "White ravens are carrion birds in Galer." The birds were not strictly carrion birds alone, but the Living Dead that were their staple apparently tasted a lot more like rotting flesh than live ones, and they were known for waiting for a battle to be over to feed. They would prevent those trying to clear the battlefield and sit on the bodies until they were rotted enough for their liking. "Galerians have an army to fight the monsters, and Grumpy was the best at leading it, but after my father died, he went mad and began to murder villagers as well." At least, she assumed her father's death had driven him mad. She never really had figured out why he'd begun his murder sprees. She didn't flinch as she talked about it, but it wasn't pleasant remembering the way Grumpy's crew had left bodies behind after stripping villages of their valuables and burning the rest down. Grumpy himself had never taken anything if the reports were accurate. She didn't think it was valuables he was interested in. "The white ravens learned to follow them, so that's why they're called the White Ravens."
"Even though they ride blackbirds." Peregrine finished for her, silently urging for her to continue.
"Yes." Kitti said, with a smile and a nod. "The first hundred lives he killed had been spent to make his Red Needle, which can disrupt the magical flow of anything if used correctly. It's a powerful magic." She didn't know where he had gotten the recipe for such a thing, but he certainly hadn't come up with it himself. Now she had to wonder if that was another one of those not-so-coincidental coincidences making a nuisance of themselves in her life. "It needs sacrifices. In exchange, it leaves a trail we think is caused by the resentment of the victims needed to make it. So sometimes we call it their scream." That was all the explanation Peregrine needed, so Kitti continued matter-of-factly. "We can't chase Grumpy for now, so keep watch, Pere, and send a tracing spell down the line once in a while to make sure they don't go somewhere else."
Peregrine flapped her wings twice. "Why can't we chase him now?"
Kitti sighed and looked at Astaroth. "He can't leave Iwaku from the Cliffs even if he does survive there, so he's less important than whoever is killing all these people. That comes first." She said nothing about who she suspected might be involved, but tapped lightly on Pere's shoulder reassuringly and smiled softly. "You have the best eyes of us, Pere. I'm counting on you."
She received a serious nod in reply. Only time would tell if she had made a mistake when she'd elevated Peregrine's status from servant to Imperatrix.
Chocolate Jorick looked this way and that, trying to sense more of his Egos, not thinking too hard about the woman carrying him. Madelyn hadn't let go of him all night long, running about wherever he had pointed her. She hadn't said very much either, but the look on her face told him that she was worried. His various Egos had been found scattered around the carnival, industriously helping to clean poop or move people, but when they saw him, they hadn't needed any explanation or convincing and had immediately followed. It must have been a strange sight, a very distressed woman carrying a small dog made of chocolate being followed by 17 identical, mustachioed men. He had been having some trouble finding the remaining few. By his reckoning, the only ones left were Number 1, Number 8, Number 10, and Number 21. He always knew what number his Egos were when he saw them. Number 21 was the truly curious one, since it was always easiest to find the most recent Separated Beings. That wasn't the only thing troubling him, though.
The previous night, he had seen Sophie staring at him and Madelyn at the front of the tent, and had urged the clueless mortal to follow her, somehow certain that she wanted to show him something. He had not expected to turn a corner just in time to see a large squid-like creature speared through the center by a dark-haired woman who was vaguely familiar, though he could not tell where he had seen her before. Madelyn had gasped and whispered, "Lowercase?!" He hadn't really been sure what she had meant about that, but he hadn't had time to inquire before the girl had announced herself and her intentions. The Immortal Hunter…. He had only met her a couple times before yesterday, but she had always been strangely familiar with him, calling him Spinach as if it made perfect sense. Why she was singling him out now and why Nemo had led him to her were both deeply discomfiting mysteries.
There was a kind of snuffling sound and for a horrified second, he thought he might have unconsciously started a dog snuffle, but he glanced up at the mortal and finally noticed that her eyes were somewhat watery. Feeling a little bad for her, and grateful for what she had done for him, he placed a paw on her arm, causing her to pause and lift her other arm to rub at her face. He couldn't communicate verbally with her, but thus far, she'd been good at picking up at his body language clues, at least. This time, he also had an advantage. He might not be able to communicate with any of his Egos, either, for some inexplicable reason, but they were him, on some level.
Number three stepped forward, the characteristic cocky Baelishious smirk slightly faltering. "I do believe he wants to know what's wrong with you, girlie." He knelt down and his head tilted up at an odd angle to try and meet her eyes in a nosey way.
It took her a bit to pause her sniffles and get ahold of herself again, but she managed to compose herself and set Jorick down on the ground, crouching in front of him. She opened her mouth, but seemed to have trouble putting the words together. She swallowed a couple times and tried again, seeming to have better luck if she didn't look him directly in the eyes, though her voice was still quiet. "Lowercase is- Lowercase is my friend." He mostly wanted to ask what that meant and what it had to do with anything, but something told him if he asked her now it would break her concentration. "She said she was tired. Five years ago. When I met her." She took in a shaky breath, then properly launched into a brief explanation. "When I met her, Lowercase was stealing from my garden of inkplants in that form. When she saw me, she threatened me with a knife and told me th- that she was an Immortal who killed people. Not just a "lowercase immortal hunter" but THE "Immortal Hunter." So I invited her in for tea." One of the Egos who had been moving a little closer tripped over his own feet and landed on his face, though he sprang up again appearing to pretend as if nothing had happened. She did not seem to notice.
"It- made her laugh, and I thought it was a nice laugh, so we-" she gestured vaguely, "ended up talking, and talked all night long, and she said she was glad she didn't have to kill me. She said every time she took that form she ended up having to do terrible things, and it made her tired. So I told her-" Madelyn sighed. "So I told her that she could keep that form only in front of me, and everywhere she thought something bad would happen she should take on a form that didn't make her do terrible things. And she- laughed and said it wouldn't make a difference but, that that was what she would do."
The point of this story was only sort of slightly making sense to Jorick, but Madelyn didn't go on. She simply rubbed her face again and picked him up, this time placing him in a rather undignified manner atop of her head. "We need to find the rest of your Baelishes, right? I've thought of something. Send up a flare. Uhm- if you can't use magic now, then have the assembled Egos do it."
It oddly surprised him that she had come up with an idea that might have actually been good. He had avoided a beacon thus far partially because he hadn't wanted to attract any attention and partially because he couldn't cast magic in this form, but the Egos certainly had enough magic to send up a flare, and there wasn't going to be much point hiding any longer now that he had found so many of them. He nodded at her, but the Egos were already on it, putting their hands together and sending up a large signal against the sky that looked rather irritatingly like a dog. That was definitely the sign of a dog. Jorick growled at his Egos, but they just looked back at him cockily, the little shits. A grin touched the dog's mouth, though no one would have recognized it as such. That was what made them him, he supposed.
It didn't take long for the final four to arrive, all bearing the same look, and then they were ready. He only hoped it had been on time, and the Immortal Hunter had kept her word about giving him the night before really starting her hunt. He looked around at his assembled Separated Beings, and they looked back at him with identical expressions of confidence. They were ready for the fight ahead. It was time he stopped relying on this little slip of a mortal. Hopping off of her head as nimbly as a cat, Jorick turned back to look at Madelyn and his Egos.
It is time. Let's find a good spot to end this.
As he lightly padded off, he heard Madelyn inquire about his destination. Number Three replied with confidence, "I think he's sniffed out a chocolate milk bone." The little dog rattled out another sigh, knowing his Egos had known perfectly well what he'd actually been trying to convey. Those bastards. They were as bad as Nemo, if that was possible.
Anaia had spent the night on top of the roof of the living space that had originally been assigned to her, still in the form of a girl with dark hair. She was clean now, though, and no longer had a weapon with her. The fiery little bird was sitting on her shoulder now, appearing to observe the sunrise with her. "Sophie. Did you do it?" She spoke into the air, though anyone looking on would've been convinced that she was alone.
The Imperatrix appeared standing next to her on the roof. "Shouldn't you have asked me that several hours ago when the White Ravens originally escaped?"
"Hrm…" She thought about it glibly. "Well, you were all so busy. Even with you wearing that ridiculous "On-Break" sign, I didn't feel right to interrupt you. But the sun is up and I can't wait anymore, so verbal confirmation was important before I re-complete myself and my guardian half has to abandon her charge."
Nemo laughed aloud. "That's a super vague comment. It's like you think someone else is listening and don't want them to know what we're talking about."
Anaia turned her head and winked at her. "Oh, you know who might be. I think we upset him, yesterday, actually. He's always thought he knew everything, and when he found out about what you did to the D'Darks he did not look happy. How the mighty fall when the scales fall from their eyes, and all that."
Nemo snorted. "Stop trying to be all philosophical and mysterious. It doesn't suit you."
The grey-eyed girl gasped mockingly. "Are you saying I'm not deep and mysterious!? How dare you! I take my duties as an angsty edgelord villain very seriously, sis."
"Who said we were villains?" The question had been flippantly said with a little laugh, but both girls went uncharacteristically solemn and quiet. Nemo attempted to provide something that might have sounded like consolation if they hadn't been the people they were. "We're not, even if that's what she decided. In fact, she's the closest thing to a villain I've ever seen. She gave us the responsibility because she knew we were prepared to do what needed to be done and didn't want the blood on her own hands, but that doesn't mean she controls us, Anya." She paused and took a breath, clarifying, "I'm not doing any of this for her or to save the world or anything else like that." Anaia could tell she was trying to say it almost defiantly, but her voice struggled slightly through the sentence.
For a while, neither said anything, but Anaia finally mustered up the will to spit back, "Then what are you doing it for?"
Nemo sucked in a breath, and her next words were practically whispered. "Maybe I wanted to see what it felt like to be a savior instead of a mistake." Her breath was shaky but she added in a louder tone of voice. "And this doesn't bother you? All the killing? I thought you said you'd reformed."
That earned her a snort immediately. "I most certainly did not! There's no reason for me to reform! I'm quite happy to be who I am and I happen to be the Immortal Hunter, thank you very much."
"Is that what you're going to tell your little mortal pet?" She asked, knowingly.
Anaia stood up abruptly, clearly upset, but maintained some level of outward composure, somehow. Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath and looked evenly at Nemo. "I don't regret the things I kill. Mortals, monsters, animals, second-gens, they all have souls. They
go somewhere after they die. Killing them here is just sending them on into that next place, wherever it is. It's not evil to send someone down a new journey, life does it all the time. But at the end you and I, and all the other first-gens and the rest of the gods, we will just be gone altogether. Our very existence ground into nothingness as if it never was and does not matter. There is no greater punishment than that, and I've always been prepared to take it. I'm not like you, Soph. I know exactly what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. As for my lovely Moody, you already know we won't speak again." Her gaze went from hurt to sly. "Shouldn't you be worrying more about
your little mortal friend? Ricey, was it? Weird nickname. I'm sure I could find her if I tried. You wouldn't want my hand to just… slip a little. Now would you?"
"I thought you knew better than to try to threaten me, little abomination." Nemo grinned wickedly before fading away, leaving Anaia to slump back down onto the roof alone, burying her face in her arms with a heavy sigh for a long moment. She'd risen to the bait, when she should have kept her cool. There were more than enough things to be getting emotional over today, as it was. She sent a silent prayer up to gods she knew were not there, hoping somehow that a little faith would protect and strengthen her dear mortal friend, even as she got to her feet once again. Time for her to go to work.
Nav had slept. She had slept fitfully, and she wasn't sure when exactly she'd slipped from consciousness, but she
had slept and surprisingly felt a little better for it. The odd, painful feeling in her chest like something was lodged there hadn't fully gone away, but she had gotten used to it somewhat, and no longer felt it as strongly. She looked over at Elle Joyner, who was sitting beside her, fast asleep, and immediately felt a little guilt well up in her heart. Guilt, but also gratitude. Even without knowing the full situation, her first mate had always been steadfast. If possible, she would have preferred the entire crew be far away and somewhere safe, but if she had to have a companion, she could not think of a better one than Elle. Smiling quietly, she pulled her jacket from around her shoulders and placed it over Elle's, wishing her a few more moments of rest before whatever trials this next day was bound to bring. Not many else in the tent seemed to be resting. Most of the dragons were huddled up together in one corner of the tent, keeping a wary eye on everyone else there. To her surprise, the leader of that little group seemed to be Rose.
The Butter Dragon was sitting several steps away from Nav and Elle, animatedly speaking to a clearly excited Kim. Tari was curled up next to them, her head in Kim's lap. The two were a comfort to each other in troubling times, and in light of the strangeness of the previous day, Nav could see why Tari would need a little comfort. Lifting her head to an opening at the top of the tent, Nav saw that the sky was still dark, but not completely. Dawn was about to break. She moved quietly closer to Kim and Tari.
Diana acknowledged Nav's presence, stopping whatever she was saying and offering her a gentle smile. Nav wasn't about to trust that as far as she could throw it. "Welcome, Genavieve. Please, sit. We did not wish to disturb the two of you as you slept, but I would appreciate you joining us. I have heard much of how you rescued my descendant from smugglers."
"She's been teaching me magic!" Kim interjected, excitedly. "Dragon magic!"
"Has she?" Nav asked, coldly, eyes still trained on Diana. Her hysterical mindset yesterday had done no one any favors, and had kept her from keeping a clear head. Now rested, she had more than a few questions, no few of which involved the leader of the dragons and her behavior. Diana's smile did not waver, and she met Nav's eyes without shame. "And what kind of magic is that?"
"It's dragon magic, of course." Kim laughed gaily. "Look, like this." She opened her mouth wide and her teeth suddenly grew long and sharp. Her eyes changed as well, pupils becoming narrow slits and her irises turning a disturbing gold color. She changed them back quickly with a satisfied smile. "Diana says if I keep practicing, I'll be able to turn into a full dragon whenever I want! Ooh! Look! This, too!" She held her hands palm up and Nav saw light start to swirl in them. At the same time, she felt her jumpiness and suspicion leech from her. It was a disconcerting feeling, even more disconcerting when Kim said toothily, "It's your feelings! I can manifest them physically!" The sailor's sense of alarm skyrocketed.
"Oh I see." She said, not even feigning pleasure. "And what else has th'butter dragon been so kind to teach ye?"
The little Dracari didn't seem to notice the tense atmosphere, and was quick to answer Nav's question. "She taught me to link minds with other dragons, and gave me some of her memories so I'd know the history of the dragons. There isn't much more to dragon magic, though Diana says if I learn how to show my dragon scales all the time, I can be impervious to fire and some magic, and someday when I grow up all the way, I'll find a specific emotion that only I feed on and I will get my own special skin and name to reflect that, like how she's the butter dragon, and rose is the rose dragon. It's so cool!"
"It's probably harmless, Nav." A sleepy voice croaked. Nav looked up to see Elle had approached them, rubbing her eyes. She dropped Nav's jacket back into her lap, but gave her a weak smile. "I was awake for the first half of it. Even Tari didn't feel so bad about it after a while." The two women exchanged glances that prompted Elle to add, "It
is her birthright. And once she got old enough we were going to have to let her connect with her dragon blood at some point anyways. Might as well take advantage of having the dragons close while we can."
Tari grunted and rolled over, propping herself up on one hand. "Where'd we moor?" She croaked, blearily, tail uncurling in a slow stretch. Her eyes weren't fully opened, and it got Elle to crack a genuine smile.
"We're on land, Tari. We have been since yesterday." The first mate explained, sitting down, herself. "Don't you remember? The tent, the dragons?"
The little lizard-girl shook her head and stretched properly, bones cracking. The floor hadn't been the most comfortable place she'd had to sleep. At least the ship had the hammocks. "No, I cleaned the barnacles yesterday." She muttered, before properly looking around. Kim was stifling a giggle with both of her hands. She gave Diana an uncomprehending squint and asked, "Are we having catfish soup today, Cookie Freddie? Is it my birthday? You know I love catfish soup…" Her head drooped back down, threatening to fall back asleep.
Far from being insulted, Diana looked thoroughly amused, as she gently corrected the girl. "I am not your cook, young lady." Kim burst into full-out laughter that startled Tari properly awake. Against her better judgment, Nav felt herself relax a little bit. The whole situation was still weird and frightening, but the sound of Kim's laughter at Tari's constant morning struggle made her feel a bit more like things were back to normal. Tari was turning red and trying to scold Kim, but didn't get out more than stammers, as Kim talked over her, teasing her mercilessly. Even with Diana sitting with them as if she was a rightful part of their group, the hum of life was comforting and familiar.
It all went wrong in a flash. There was a pop, and a girl appeared in their midst. Nav turned and surveyed the intruder up and down, eyes barely believing what she saw. Long, black hair. Grey, whiteless eyes. That expression. The girl wasn't looking at her, thank the gods, but she remembered that expression from a very long time ago. Those whiteless eyes scanned the huddle of dragons on the other side of the tent with the absolute certainty only she had in one single fact: They were going to die today. Anaia grinned. Nav shot upwards, face losing all color, and bellowed at them, "RUN!!!" But it was already too late. Before any of the dragons could react, Anaia had lifted her hand to reveal a pistol and begun to fire at them.
People sometimes said that guns were little metal contraptions that shot fire and death, but this description was highly exaggerated, in Nav's opinion. A fast Immortal at the top of their game could usually avoid the flashy little machines that mortals carried around, or even construct barriers to block the bullets. The Immortal Hunter's pistol was a different matter entirely. There was no loud bang or fancy waving around. Just one silent shot after another, and with each shot blossomed forth a thin column of flame that instantly vaporized the form of whatever it touched. It required the sort of spellwork that wished to erase the universe from existence. Angry magic. Evil magic. The sailor had thought so when she had first seen it, and she thought so now, as she dully heard Kim screaming in shock, Tari and the Butter Dragon holding her back from the fray.
Nav grabbed Tari and yelled over the surprised roars of the dragons, "Hold on'to Kim. Come on, Elle, we can't stay here!" She jerked towards the exit, but a burst from that horrid gun sliced its way in front of them, putting a hole in the wall. Nav felt her head turn almost against her will, and to her horror, the Immortal Hunter was looking at her. She was grinning, but there was something in her eyes that Nav didn't recognize, or perhaps didn't understand. It wasn't sadness, but something more bitter. The black-haired girl shook her head almost imperceptibly. If she was trying to silently communicate something, though it wasn't working. Nav hadn't the smallest clue what she was implying, and more importantly she wasn't sticking around with her crew to see what horrible things the little murderess was planning.
Thankfully, she wasn't the only one with this opinion. The Imperatrices had been in and out here and there, but two were still in the tent at the moment, and Nav heard the one with horns call out, "Brie!" catching the attention of the one with milky pale skin. This "Brie" immediately began ushering the remaining dragons out with Diana's help, and the Immortal Hunter didn't seem inclined to stop her.
In fact, the Immortal Hunter had stopped firing and had fixed her gaze on the horned Imperatrix. Her gaze, however, seemed… was it even possible for her to feel
fond of someone? Nav hurried to join Brie in the efforts to evacuate everyone in this temporary reprieve, but she found her attention drawn to the two women standing there in the ruined tent calmly. Their voices somehow seemed to ring in the space for the sailor, the sound of the angry and even slightly confused and panicking dragons faded into the background, despite being much louder. She didn't hear as Tari asked her worriedly what was going on.
The Immortal Hunter brushed her hair back. "Pahndora! So nice to see you again, little niece." Niece? It was impossible for a first-generation to have a niece, at least in the traditional sense of the word. "Everything ready?" What was supposed to be ready? Genavieve stared daggers into the Imperatrix. Wasn't she supposed to be one of the current rulers or something? She'd never heard of a mortal ruler scheming with Immortals, especially first-generations.
Pahndora gave a little smile and bowed. "It was all prepared as my lord Jorick asked. Now it is your turn to complete your duty, Nemesis." The Immortal Hunter stuck a tongue out at her, clearly not liking being called the Nemesis, even if Nav couldn't imagine a better nickname for her. Worry creased Nav's brow. Jorick was one of the trouble-makers. If this Pahndora was referring to him as her "lord," she couldn't be on the right side. Nav was about to break away from the group exiting through one of the giant holes in the wall and ask the horned mortal just what was going on, but the commotion among the dragons finally managed to break through her strange funk. One very literally slammed into her, causing her to lose sight of Pahndora as she took a moment to maintain her balance. She wasn't given an opportunity to find the woman again. The dragon that had run into her was starting a fight with the Immortal Hunter, and Tari lost any semblance of patience, bodily dragging Nav out into the open and away from the spectacle.
Anaia's new challenger was the rose dragon, who was literally breathing fire. The look on the Immortal's face was hardly worried, lifting an arm to protect herself from the first punch Rose threw, though it landed with a solid thud, followed by the crack of one of the Immortal's bones snapping. She didn't seem to mind, though, simply dancing away with her injured arm snapping back into place and dodging the stream of fire that Rose shot at her, allowing it to catch the fabric of the tent alight with flames. The two of them continued this bizarre flurry of movement, Rose attacking angrily and Anaia taking every hard blow that landed as if a mosquito had bitten her. After a while, though, the dark-haired girl seemed to grow tired of this. She ducked another punch and shook her head with an impatient sigh. "Wrong opponent, dragon."
As Rose opened her mouth wide to shoot another burst of flame, Anaia simply lifted her gun and propped the muzzle on the bottom row of Rose's teeth, looking boredly as if she was going to fire just because this was taking too long. Miraculously, however, a single small rock smacked into the side of the small pistol, knocking it out of Rose's mouth before either of them could fire their intended shots. The whole thing happened in less than a second and temporarily startled both fighters into stillness. Anaia's eyes lit up with excitement even before she caught sight of the thrower, who was less-literally breathing fire.
"Eo!" She exclaimed happily, before Rose got in a solid slap across the face that left a large red mark across her cheek. That was the first hit that actually seemed to make her angry, but the dragon was suddenly grabbed from behind by E.L.'s white-haired companion, who had appeared within the burning tent with just as little ceremony. Seeing Rose dragged off kicking and swearing appeased Anaia a little, and she focused back in on E.L. with pleasure. He had one of his usual cheerful smiles on his face, but it was warped a little, an unusually spiteful twist added to it. That didn't seem to bother her. "I'm so happy to see you!" She said. The Shape Thief swung her pistol up and it suddenly morphed into what looked like a matchlock rifle, which she rested on her shoulder the way she had yesterday with the sword, not at all looking like she was ready to fight.
The blue-haired man didn't oblige her with words. E.L. Anthill made the slightest twitch of his fingers, and Anaia could feel several barriers effortlessly erect themselves around him, with a few backup ones to prevent the amount of magic he was using from affecting Ano Taku or the dragon he was still wrestling out of the tent. Each piece of magic was a work of art, layers of complex spells woven together expertly in a matter of moments. She wasn't even capable of telling what all of them did, but she could feel some meant to dissolve created forms, prevent her specific brand of magic, strengthen his own physical power and speed, and protect him from the fire all around them. He hadn't even started an attack yet. This was a show of strength. "Have I ever told you you should have gone into basket weaving?" The female Immortal asked him cheekily.
There was still no response from him. He just pointed one finger at her, and Anaia dove for the floor just in time to miss a series of explosions that certainly would have ripped through her current body as if it were wet toilet paper, though they avoided bringing the burning tent down around them. She placed one hand on the floor, and six metal spikes popped out of the ground around her, forming a light, protective hexagon that was totally ineffective against his next attack. A snake made purely of concentrated magic and rippling with what looked like electricity barreled for her, forcing her to jump up towards the top of the tent and create several body doubles to distract it. As intimidating as it was, the snake was more of a distraction than anything else as E.L. pulled the ground up into the air around him, lumps of dirt forming into animated dragons that the girl knew weren't going to be normal golems when he finished them. Normal golems were given a single, simple task to achieve and otherwise needed to be specifically directed by their masters. Eo was taking time to build these, which from him meant they were going to be physically reinforced and fully autonomous, with some level of higher thinking, at least until their purpose was fulfilled. Their purpose probably being to destroy her. She eyed them darkly, but couldn't seem to do anything while also dodging the snake he'd sent after her.
Coming to a temporary full stop, she turned to face the snake and pointed her rifle straight at it. One of her regular bursts wasn't going to cut it with this thing, if it was reinforced just for her benefit, so she went with a ray of her own raw magic that split into several thin lines as it went, forming a multi-pronged structure that would separate the lines of magic that made up the snake, rather than trying to destroy them. Considering the snake was the distraction, this was a bad start, but she hadn't come to fight him anyways. "C'mon, Eo-eo, why you so anguhry?" She wheedled obnoxiously.
He had finished those damn dragons. Anaia slammed the side of her rifle into the head of the first dirt dragon to knock it away from her and hopped over the swinging tail of another one. Things with forms were her specialty, though. After what felt like ages of her dodging, firing, hitting, and stabbing, she brought her elbow hard down between the wings of the last dragon, splitting the heart that kept it together. Eo's voice caused her to turn again, expecting another attack, but none came. "You crossed a line." He wasn't faking a smile anymore.
That brought the Immortal Hunter to a hard stop. Genuine surprise blossomed all over her features. "Eh?" She could hear him over the crackle of the flames, her brain just wasn't sure what to do with what she had heard.
The two of them faced each other, silent in the middle of the tattered and burning tent that probably wouldn't have still been standing if it hadn't originally been reinforced with magic. Though some distance apart, they locked eyes, and Anaia tilted her head to one side, a faintly confused expression on her face. She could see his body unable to fully cope with the extent of his emotions. He brought his finger up and shook it at her vigorously, as if he couldn't think of any other way to really express what he wanted to convey to her. "You crossed a line." He repeated, lamely, tongue just as incapable of forming his thoughts as his body was of conveying his feelings. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and Anaia thought she could see a little of his usually talkative self return. She let him come back to himself, however many breaths it took. "I have done a lot of things to lead each Age into the next, and so have the rest of you. But this is not a game." He stressed. "You don't get to
play with other people's lives and mock their deaths to satisfy yourself. There are things we have to do, but there are also lines you don't disrespect." His breathing was heavy as if with exertion, though the burst of magic that would have killed a mortal mage to do hadn't even caused him to break a sweat.
The surprise still hadn't left the girl's face. Her jaw had actually slightly dropped open as he spoke, and the confusion lasted a far sight longer than she usually paused for anything at all. What finally resulted was an incredulous burst of real laughter, not at all like those nasty little giggles she gave out so liberally. "L-Ai-Nz?" The word was having a hard time coming out of her mouth, or perhaps she was tasting it, trying to figure out if she liked the dish it served. He didn't try to speak, though he clearly wanted to. The silence gave her a chance to sort out her next words, which came in a ferocious rush when they did. "
The murderers shall be the saviors, and the blameless shall massacre the last of the good." E.L. flinched, recognizing the line of a longer prophecy he had given before the end of the Mid-Age. "Did you know the God of Love came first? He didn't fight the spell, so he came first. He came voluntarily, but he didn't expect it to hurt so much to be sacrificed, I don't think. He screamed so loudly." The high-pitched cheeriness had returned, but that somehow made what she was actually saying crueler. "Oooh, you should have seen Marissa's face. She turned so pale I thought I could see right through her skin. But you weren't there, were you?" She giggled, but there was a hard edge to her voice when she spoke. "
And if not tempered with reason, the mercy of a weeping god will let live the End of all Peace. Was it fun watching the God of Form trying to decide if he should destroy me, without telling him what was going to happen if he didn't? Especially since you were the one who convinced the God of Whimsy to make me in the first place. Oh! Oh! Or you know, this one is my personal favorite, so eloquent of you, Eo.
But the cry of the earth will awaken the forgotten purpose of the Lost. Really good idea to keep that bit of information all to yourself,
Bringer of Fates."
By this time, she had managed to regain all of the almost-creepy verve she was known for, but the blue-haired Immortal across from her looked positively sick, an expression totally foreign to his face. He set his jaw defiantly. "Are you saying you don't think I deserve to have lines?" His voice was low and hoarse.
"Oh no, non no!" Her rejection in the fakest accent imaginable was almost more insulting than if she'd said yes. "I'm saying you only have them because other people have crossed them for you." Her voice hardened again, and grew low and serious. "This
is a game, Eo. You made it one."
She chuckled one last time and flung her rifle into the air. It didn't distract him. He knew her tricks. He swung one hand up to strengthen his barriers as the Immortal Hunter sprinted for him, leaping lightly past the holes in the ground where the bodies of the dragon golems had come from. She didn't slow down as she hit the barriers built specially for her, stripping away any protective spells she might have had on her person and stripping her flesh away with it. Her body was turning to dust even as she advanced, getting ever closer to him. By the time she reached him, there was nothing left of her body but the bones, the grinning teeth oddly fitting the expression she'd been wearing when she'd had flesh anyways. And then she was right in front of him, placing the tips of her first two fingers against his head in a bony finger gun. "Chk-chk pakaoowwww." She said somehow with no lips at all. Nothing else happened. The only bit of magic that had gotten through all his spells had been just enough to keep the skeleton animated. "Wrong opponent, Eo." She said, the same way she'd said it to Rose.
E.L. instantly understood that he'd been wrong to focus on her physical form as a girl. Slamming his palm into the skeleton's forehead, he sent a shockwave of his own essence through the bond the skeleton had to its animator to injure the original creator. The skeleton crumbled, and a shriek of surprised pain told him where she really was. The rifle she had thrown had turned into a fiery bird the size of a small dog. If he had bothered to extinguish the fire of the tent, he would have seen it right away, but with the background already on fire, an extra bit of flame hadn't made as huge of a difference and he had missed it. The bird was pulling itself back upright when he reached it. He felt pretty ready to stomp it into the ground, but the calmness with which it looked at him convinced him to pause and wonder just what had been so important she'd had to distract him in such a risky way.
She shuffled slightly to the side and he saw that she'd been perched on top of a fresh body. Ano Taku was lying there, a gash through his throat so deep that it had almost decapitated him. His normally blank eyes were wide in frozen shock, and it was clear from the glassy quality of them that his soul was long gone. That was why she had been talking to him. She was waiting for Ano to finish dealing with Rose and return. Her target hadn't been the dragons or E.L. at all. The Bringer of Fates fell to his knees, while Anaia casually built herself a new form, the bird once again small and nestling atop her head. He watched as she went for the front of the burning tent, unable to retaliate at all. She met his gaze just once more with a sad little smile he would have thought was genuine if she hadn't just killed his steadfast friend. "I choose for my legacy to be death." Those were the last words she spoke to him before raising her hand to brush aside one of the main flaps of the tent, the flames failing to so much as tan her skin.
After exiting the tent, she stood there in front of it for a bit and let out a breath, letting her smile curl back into a devious grin. She tilted her head up and the bird there took off, flapping in front of her eyes. "So? Where are they?" No audible reply came, but the bird swooped forward heading for the stage that had been set up earlier for more festive events. An absurdly fitting setting.
Jorick and his crew of Egos stood proudly center-stage, feeling somehow certain that his adversary was coming to him. The sounds of screams and shouts and the crackling of flames echoed from a tent he couldn't see, tempting him to leave his post, but one little thing was stopping him from moving. Not long after he'd taken up his position, a certain nobody had taken up residence above a lamppost, perching there lightly and sipping from a little porcelain teacup with a paper umbrella sticking out of it. Nemo's presence almost surely meant he had chosen the right place for his last stand.
What's going on over there? He asked her, unhappily.
She took another fancy little sip from her teacup, taking her time before answering. "Anya's killing the dragons." This brought a gasp of surprise from Madelyn, who was hiding behind the curtain on the stage. Jorick himself flinched a little at the announcement, but it was impossible to express the full extent of his surprise and displeasure in this form.
He paced back and forth restlessly.
The Immortal Hunter? She told me she would wait for me to be ready. Who would ever trust the word of the Immortal Hunter, though? He reasoned to himself, angry that he'd fallen for it.
Is she coming, Nemo?
"Yes, yes, she's coming. She knows you're ready, and she's stopped killing them for now. She'll keep going if you fail, though." Nemo didn't sound particularly upset about it, propping her legs up casually on nothing. "She only stopped because E.L. Anthill interrupted her and the rest of them got away. Now you're in her way."
The dog gave her the best baleful stare a chocolate Yorkshire could.
How do you know all this, Nemo?
"Oh, you told me. She told me. You know, the plan." She waved her cup of tea around vaguely, but no tea sloshed out of it. She was barely even looking at him, as if he didn't matter, making it clear that there was no point for him to ask what exactly this plan that he had told her about was supposed to be.
Madelyn peeked her head out from behind the curtain, peering around for whoever was having this confusing, one-sided conversation. "What's going on?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Jorick turned around sharply.
Tell her to keep hiding.
He should have known that Nemo didn't like taking orders. "He said he needs you to come out and play epic battle music."
Madelyn didn't seem too sure about this interpretation. She did have good sense, after all. "He did?" She asked with a frown, still looking for the speaker.
"Don't be silly, Soph. He was clearly telling her to climb up the closest lamppost so she could get a better view." Came the unmistakable, horrifyingly cheerful voice of Anaia. There she was, sitting on top of a pole brazier, that little bird nesting in her hair again. Although she was having a conversation with the Imperatrix, all her attention was focused on the little dog.
"Lowercase!" Madelyn exclaimed, her voice relieved, contrary to even her own expectations. "Are you okay?" She didn't notice, or couldn't see the looks of disgust everyone else was giving her. "Tell me what's happening. Please." She received the nicest smile the Immortal Hunter could probably muster, but no reply. From her, anyways.
She wants to know if sh- if you're okay? Jorick asked skeptically.
"Shut up, Spinach. I'll have you know, I was the favorite child of
all of my four fathers." Anaia made a joking grimace at him, as if that would somehow mean something to him.
The dog sniffed at her.
The… Immortal Hunter has forefathers? I thought she was a first-generation. Nemo outright laughed, intentionally spilling an endless stream of tea onto the ground as she nearly rolled off of the post with laughter.
The other girl had her arms folded across her chest in a disgruntled fashion. "FOUR. FATHERS. One two three
four fathers. I am an original, thank you very much!" She grumbled.
"What did he say?" Madelyn asked, desperately confused by the conversation.
If he could have possibly interjected to stop whatever nonsense was coming next, Jorick would have. As it was, his protestations that,
It was nothing went completely unheard by the poor mortal.
"He said he was wondering if having forefathers made her tastier." Nemo said at the same time Anaia blurted, "He thought I'd killed off all the forefathers who didn't like me." Neither seemed particularly bothered about the conflicting interpretation, or at least not enough to correct one another, but it did strike up a conversation.
Nemo cocked one eyebrow at the other girl, setting her teacup aside so it floated in the air next to her. This was clearly a very serious topic of conversation. "That isn't that ridiculous, Anya. It works for both four fathers," she held up four fingers, "and forefathers, and it could have been true. Even with your kill count."
For the first time since arriving, Anaia's eyes darted away from Jorick, displeasure written all over her features, her arms still crossed. "I've never killed family, and you don't get to say anything about my kill count when you were totally useless when I was being the Immortal
Hunted."
Giving the most mockingly exaggerated shrug possible, Nemo shook her head. "But I wasn't the one being useless when the gods started going on a rampage, or when the monsters started getting out of hand in the Age of Mortals. I've definitely made up the numbers with the monsters alone."
Strangely, the argument actually seemed to be getting heated. Madelyn had even left the safety of the curtain to stare curiously with Jorick and the Egos. Needless to say, the two girls were completely ruining the gravitas of the moment, as Anaia argued, "You're always so proud of having been one of the best monster hunters, but it's not like there were
that many of them."
Madelyn sat down next to Jorick and whispered, "What are they doing?"
One of the Egos put his index finger and thumb on his chin in a pointed 'thinking' expression. His voice was grave, but tinged with the usual mocking quality that made one think twice about taking anything he said very seriously. "They appear to be very concerned about who's killed more people."
"But why?" Madelyn asked again. The little chocolate dog looked over at her, surprised by this woman once again. She wasn't looking at him at all, which gave him plenty avenue to inspect her a bit. She didn't seem frightened, nor had she when they had first made it to the stage and she'd been ushered into a hiding place. She certainly hadn't seemed like a fighter, so it was odd to him how calm she'd remained about everything that had happened. She'd seen someone murdered right in front of her and hadn't so much as flinched, beyond being concerned about the murderer in question. There was clearly something a little different in her priorities than most people. It struck him for the first time that this woman herself may be dangerous.
He abruptly interrupted the disturbing argument the two Immortal women were having.
Immortal Hunter. Who or what is this woman?
"Hmm?" Anaia looked back over at him. "Who? Well, I believe I introduced her already. She's my Moodles. Madelyn. She's an inkubus."
An incubus? But I thought those were almost all me- His eyes wandered over to her again. She was looking at him in slight confusion, having caught on that he was talking about her, but unsure of why. The story about the inkplants clicked into place. Not an incubus. An inkubus. He knew the history. The gods had made many different types of mortals in the fight against the gods, including some that could feed off of life energy of some sort. They all turned out to be pretty useless in the fight against the other gods, because each one required a certain action to take life force, but after the fall of the gods, a number became wildly successful, particularly the succubae and incubi because they tapped into lust. The inkubi had risen at the beginning of the Age of Mortals. Using the inkplants that grew liberally as weeds in the western half of Iwaku, they could slowly suck the life out of whoever looked upon or read anything they painted or wrote. They had been very successful until Jane the Insane watched her uncle waste away in front of a famous painting by Ink-arnate, one of the most notorious inkubi in history, and massacred as many of them as she could find.
I thought they'd gone extinct. He muttered.
"Do you remember now?" Anaia asked, impatiently. "They were your pet project, after all."
What's that mean? He asked, uncomfortably. Madelyn also seemed pretty concerned by what little she could hear, too, but neither of them were given much time to dwell on it. He had just started suspiciously saying,
Why were you trying to raid an inkubus's- when Anaia leapt from the top of the brazier, landing with a solid thud in front of the both of them.
"My gosh, you ask so many questions, Spinach! How very unlike you! It really is better if you hurry up and start merging with your Egos again." Her attention was squared on him again, and he realized the little bird atop her head had morphed into a long rifle, which she was leaning on like a cane. "You're really boring when you're being all serious."
"I don't know. I'm going to miss him being a dog." Nemo called from up on her pole.
Wait. The dog glared up at the Imperatrix.
If I'd merged with one of my Egos I could have gotten out of being a dog? She nodded at him with a smirk.
And you didn't tell me? The girl with the pony tail just raised her arms in a casual shrug and took up her teacup again.
"Spinach says he loves you, Soph!" Anaia supplied with one of her little giggles, despite full well knowing that Nemo could hear the string of swear words he was using in place of her name. Grumbling, Jorick padded over to the closest Ego and held out a paw in a "shake" motion, urging the Ego to take it. It took a bit for the sucker to comply, but when he did, Jorick could feel his body changing, morphing and stretching smoothly. He closed his eyes against the strange feeling, and when he opened them again, he was a man identical to the rest of his Egos. He flexed his fingers and felt a smirk tug at his lips. Turning his attention to the Immortal Hunter, he saw her shooing the inkubus away with a little smile, as if trying to reassure her that everything was fine. Their relationship was a strange one indeed, for Madelyn seemed to accept the shove back behind the curtains almost without any argument at all. It wasn't just that the mortal was allowing herself to be pushed around because she was weak; she seemed to really have no problems with whatever was going to happen, whether people died or not. It made her almost scarier than the one going around killing people for sport. "And what are you staring at, Spinach?" The Immortal asked, brushing her hands off after having safely gotten Madelyn backstage.
"I want to know what's going on." He said, reveling in the sound of his voice again, low and rumbling. Truly, being unable to communicate with people who were not trolls was torture.
Anaia simply pointed her rifle at his head and fired. "Didn't I tell you you were just so boring when you keep asking questions and being so serious? If you want answers, merge."
He frowned at her, having just barely ducked in time. "Merge? With my Egos? Why do you want me to do that?"
She groaned and fired at him again, still looking like she was barely trying. "More questions. Questions, questions, questions." She put her hands on her hips, looking for all the world like a disgruntled child. She shook her weapon at him as one might wag a finger. "You can either do it now and spare yourself the embarrassment of getting beat up, or keep asking questions until I blow your tongue off!" This was, apparently, not a very convincing argument, and got Jorick to do nothing more than raise his eyebrows. She had another card to play, though. "Or, fine. I could start hunting down all the Immortals now. We don't have to do it this way, though it would've been so much easier." The black-haired girl sighed and made as if to walk away, but Jorick took a step and twisted, performing a perfect short-length transportation spell and ending up right in front of her. A sword he had not been previously holding was now pointed at her chest.
She grinned, and Jorick tried to shake the annoying sense that he had just been forced to do exactly when she wanted. There was nothing for it but to fight, now, though. He drove his sword forward, but she side-stepped and gave her rifle a little flip in her hands, turning it into what appeared to be a regular little wooden sword. "Swords it is, then!" She yelled gleefully, and the two of them went for a proper sword fight. It was a somewhat frustrating game. Rising to the rank of Princeps Imperator had partially been a product of his exceptional ability to fight hordes of monsters with a combination of magical ingenuity and physical prowess. The Immortal Hunter didn't seem to care. With that silly wooden sword of hers, she casually knocked aside all of his swings, no matter how fast he tried to move or what spells he used to strengthen his swing or transport himself faster than any mortal could manage to respond to. Spells to trap her into stillness simply seemed to let her slide right through like an eel, attempts to surprise her ended up with him staring her right in the face as she giggled and prodded him in the chest with her wooden weapon.
He popped up behind her, swinging with his might, and there she was again, spinning around just in time and raising her sword for an easy block. "Which one did you merge with? Twelve? He was never very interesting. You split with him when you were going through a rough emotional patch, Spinach me friend. I told you it was a bad idea running from your feelings if you couldn't handle them later, but- whoops!" She ducked as he yanked his sword away from hers and took a swing from a different direction, taking advantage of her distraction. "How about Number Three, huh?!" She shouted, apparently determined to keep up this conversation. "You got rid of him because you said he made fights boring what with being so fast and nimble and all! Or Fourteen! Good instincts, that one!" She dodged a thrust and bopped him lightly atop the head. "Really, Spinach, no need to be stubborn. You're at less than five percent of yourself, and I'm at about half. This isn't really a fair fight. More importantly, it isn't very interesting. Don't you think so?"
As much as he was loathe to agree with anything she had to say, the Imperator had to admit this fight wasn't much fun with her toying with him, though her comments about his strength level and her in-depth knowledge of his Egos were concerning him greatly. Yet another thing to ask the Immortal once he'd defeated her. Stepping back, he grabbed the hands of Four and Thirteen, intentionally choosing numbers other than the ones she had suggested, just to spite her. As he did so, he felt his exhaustion and frustration melting away. A corner of his mouth tugged upwards again, as he felt himself absurdly starting to enjoy the situation. He could tell he was stronger, too, delivering quicker and heavier blows. It still wasn't enough, though. She was still only defending and teasingly poking and prodding, no real sense of danger in her actions. "Still too slowww." She needled. Jorick could tell she was trying to goad him into merging with more of his doubles, and was tempted not to just to spite her, but something in the back of his mind was telling him it would be more interesting that way. He hadn't had a fight this challenging in some time, and he wasn't going to give up the chance to see her at full power just because of his pride. It struck him then that the two of them were similar in that way. More obsessed with their love of the interesting than with what other people had to say about them.
He shook the thought from his head. No sense comparing himself to the Immortal Hunter. Everyone knew there was something wrong with her, and he wasn't about to subject himself to that, of all things. What had he been thinking? Since she still wasn't attacking him, it took no more than a few steps and a hand held out for him to merge with more of his Egos. The girl watching him clapped her hands together excitedly, balancing her wooden sword atop her head for a moment to do it. "Yes, yes, yes." She said, "The elegance of Eight, the precision of Two, oh do please go on." The naked hunger in her eyes could really only be described as disturbing beyond all measure, but the power he was gaining with each merge made it too enjoyable to stop simply because she was being disturbing. It wasn't really all that different from how she was normally, anyways. He didn't pause to question that thought, though. Halfway through merging, Anaia flew at him, brandishing her wooden sword seriously.
This time, however, things went differently. As her blade landed on his, he twisted his sword around hers and ripped it from her grip, leaving her defenseless for a moment. She threw back her head and laughed, black hair falling away from her face as she narrowly dodged a swing. "Now this is a challenge." She said, gleefully. "Good!" A quick somersault had the weapon back in her grasp again, but he could tell he was catching up with her movements, she even sounded a little short of breath. His spells to hinder her progress, on the other hand, were still proving mostly useless. As he ran after her, he grabbed another Ego, merging with it on the go, a feat that had also become significantly easier with his newfound physical abilities. So it went, the two of them dancing around each other in a flurry of movement. The more of his Separated he merged with, the more she had to adapt, and at seventeen Egos in, she began disappearing from view in a way much more reminiscent of Nemo's disappearing trick than any transportation spell he had ever seen. Complex magic did not appear to be her strong suit, but nor did it seem to affect her much.
He was now pretty certain he was well able to match her physically, if not exceed her, it was just that troublesome habit of hers of disappearing that was now becoming a problem. He couldn't sense it at all. It wasn't like she was really disappearing, it was more like for a moment she simply ceased to exist altogether, and there was no way of finding someone who did not exist. Jorick took a slice at her, but his sword passed through her like smoke as her form vanished again. There
had to be a way to catch her when she did that. Scowling in concentration, he attempted to pour magic into the sword, though what sort he was hard-pressed to say. As intentional as he was most of the time when utilizing his magic to fight, this felt like the sort of thing he wanted to rely on his instincts for, if he was to be fast enough to catch her before she showed up again. With both hands, Jorick slashed through the air with all his might.
Instead of catching his opponent, Jorick tore straight through the fabric of space, exposing the mid-space, through which the Chariot of Space traveled. He stared in stunned surprise, not only because he hadn't intended to do any such thing, but also because the gaping gash in space was roiling with some sort of black, milky substance, not quite liquid and not quite gas. Flashes of angry red and purple lightning streaked through the black mass, illuminating its ever-changing shape. There was something horribly, horribly wrong.
"Whoops!" Anaia appeared right next to the gash, a massive rubber eraser in her hand instead of her sword, and scrubbed the space where the break was, "erasing" it and turning the landscape back to normal. "Can't have you doing that, Spinach! Don't do that again, okay?" She said, disapprovingly, wagging her finger at him. "The mid-space has gotten all corrupted and things. It's not even safe for people to use the Chariot right now." She disappeared and reappeared again floating above his head with her legs crossed. "How about this?" The next minute, she was hanging upside down in front of his face. "You let me merge with my other half, and I'll stop hippity hoppitying through space and all of those things, and we can has a proper fight."
"Other half?" Jorick demanded, grimacing up at her.
"Well, her of course." The upside-down Immortal grinned and pointed. Jorick turned to look, and jumped backwards in alarm, holding his sword out in front of him. He should have known. The Witch of the Water, as she was known, was standing in giant watery spider form right beside him. He had no idea when she'd gotten there or how. In any case, the apparition had been said to never leave her place at Anaia's Cliffs, and even he only knew who it was from description. She looked… well, not nearly as intimidating as he had imagined. As scary as spiders could be, the air of immense boredom floating about her made it a bit difficult to take her very seriously, much less be scared of her. He also got the impression that she was glaring at him in a faintly offended manner, but spiders couldn't exactly glare, so he wasn't sure why he felt that way, either.
"So how 'bout it, Spinach ole boy? You let me do the merging, stop slashing holes in space since you don't know what you're doing, and you get to kill me! Win-win all round!" The glee with which she was saying such ominous things made him want to say no just on principle, but something in the back of his mind nagged at him to let it be. He, Kitti, and Astaroth had all planned for her to merge with the Witch of the Water, anyways. Since he had found the prophecy hidden in a bag on the edge of the forest, exactly as his dream had told him, he had thought they would need the old Immortals prepared for whatever was coming and willing to be on their side. Instead, it seemed to him that these old Immortals were moving on their own, doing goodness only knew what. This had been a part of the Imperatores' original plan, he tried to convince himself, but her going about killing people had not been part of the plan, and it was unlikely she was asking him to let her merge because the Imperatores had planned it that way.
"If I say no?" He asked warily.
"Then I guess I'll just have to ignore you!" Anaia said brightly, immediately launching herself over his head and landing on the spider's back. Jorick tried to stop her, but she had caught him by surprise and he didn't have any time to do more than close his fist on empty air while trying to grab at her clothes. When she touched it, the watery spider began to shrink, still looking at him with that impossibly offended expression. Finally, the Immortal Hunter was all that was left, standing there with her eyes closed, whole at last. At first nothing happened, but she gave a little shiver, and he took a step back, because that little shiver had sent power rippling through the air. Her power.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, face uncharacteristically expressionless. "I'm itchy. Gods, I haven't felt so much like exploding in so long." She muttered to herself. Her hands began to shake as she pulled them up to look at them and her whiteless eyes began flashing various colors, finally settling on a vivid purple that looked horribly wrong in her eye sockets. A flat, empty screen of purple. "It's so irritating." The words curled from her throat in a low growl, serious and solemn, almost masculine, and somehow it became apparent that she was looking straight at Jorick. "So irritating. It needs to- I need to go-" She stretched out a shaking hand towards him, as if to wrap around his throat. It didn't look as though she was moving very fast, but Jorick jumped back and was just in time to escape a hand that had definitely gotten too close too quickly. Scared wasn't the right word, but something about her purple eyes frayed his nerves.
She didn't need to prompt him this time. Jorick merged hastily with three of his remaining Egos and brandished his sword. "Don't run." She said, a strange giggle following, though her mouth made no movement to form it. Her voice wasn't loud, but it echoed, almost bubbled, the sound swelling awkwardly around the empty plaza. "Make the itch go away." The Imperator stood his ground, but drew his sword back as the Immortal Hunter sprang forward, expression feral and nails growing long and sharp. She grabbed his blade full on with her left hand, squeezing it and pulling it away from her as her right zipped forward, claws ready to dig into his neck. He lifted his own left hand to shield himself and cast a spell at the same time, but then a woman's horrified voice stopped them both.
"What are you doing?!" Anaia and Jorick both stopped and swiveled around to stare at Marissa, freezing with their eyes on her in almost identical expressions of shock. Anaia gasped and stumbled away from her opponent, looking as though someone had poured cold water on top of her head. Her eyes glowed for a second, still that horrid purple color, but then she closed them, falling hard on her butt, hands still shaking. She pressed her injured hand to her forehead, incognizant of the blood that stained it.
Jorick, however, had not moved, and the pose he was in looked rather comical, but he was too overwhelmed to spare any thought for that. Memories he did not recognize were flooding into his head. Who was this woman?
"I'll take care of them." Her voice echoed in his head, bringing a blinding headache with it.
"You just abandon pieces of yourself here and there… I can't leave your dumb Egos all alone. They disrupt balance if you let them run around like that." No, it had nothing to do with the balance. It was because she was kind. Rough around the edges and sometimes a little too quick to violence, but always kind. She was the only one who thought of them as real people. Beloved friend. If only she knew….
Jorick came back to himself and realized he was staring. Marissa Kellenghan, Keeper of the Scales. Yes, he knew that she was the Dismantler of Wars, he'd met her during his coronation, but this memory was far, far older. Significantly older than his own memories stretched. It didn't make sense. He'd made all twenty Egos… when? When had he made them? Why did it feel like he'd lost parts of himself a much longer time ago? Why was she here? "Who-"
"Ahem." Anaia caught his attention. Her eyes looked normal now, and were brown in color. Perfectly, utterly normal, unlike the flat, empty grey he had seen earlier. She smiled, and it wasn't at all unpleasant or creepy, though it seemed somewhat more directed at Marissa than at him. Her nails had returned to their normal size, and her hands were no longer shaking, but a simple pistol was hanging from the tips of her fingers. "Shall we continue? Or I could go hunt down the rest of those little dragons. Your choice."
That instantly caught his attention. Figuring out these weird memories could come later, the girl in front of him was the bigger problem. He blinked at her, unsettled for a moment. Something was wrong with the way she was looking at him. The Immortal Hunter with all of herself trying to kill someone didn't just
look at her 'prey' pleasantly. He knew the look she'd given her victims in the past, her eyes picking them apart, deciding how they would die today as if she could see it happening in minute detail, a feat not even the Bringer of Fates could manage. More things he shouldn't have been alive to know.
History of the High Rulers dated her splitting with the Bloodlust or whatever-it-really-was long before the first High-Ruler had risen to power, long before his time. She didn't let him dwell on it. A splitting headache had him wincing and when he opened his eyes again she was in front of him, sending the hilt of her pistol smashing into his face. He yelped and just barely managed to avoid a serious blow, but it still felt like she had broken his nose. He frowned at her. She hadn't followed up with a second blow; she was just standing there looking at him.
"Come on." She said, almost impatiently. "I don't have all day."
"Why call me out? If you wanted to go kill the Immortals and the rest of the dragons, you'd do it, not challenge me to a fight." He said, eyes narrowing as he asked a question he knew he should have asked earlier.
She let out a long, disgusted sound. "If you want to know, why don't you ask that last Ego there you've been ignoring?" She darted forward, and he found himself able to track her movements. Even when she vanished from in front of him, he could sense where her 'being' was. His sword moved before his mind could and slammed into a disembodied gun, which fired at him several times. He was ready for her, though, and avoided the shots entirely.
Their continued fight didn't please their spectator, though. "I asked what you two were doing!" Marissa roared, and her old-fashioned metal scales burst into view in front of her. Her fury had broken her out of her surprise, but Nemo, as if she had been waiting for the opportunity, popped from her spot on the pole and plucked the scales from the air right there in front of Marissa. The glow faded from Marissa's skin and seemed to creep up Nemo's skin instead, from where she was holding the scales. She didn't take well to it. The elusive Immortal seemed to have difficulty moving, her whole body beginning to shake as the faintly blue glow began to crawl up her arm. Her face was set in a solid grimace, but she pulled one foot up and took a step back. "N-Nemo. Nemo let go." The anger hadn't quite dissipated from Marissa's form, but there was something else there, too: fear. It wasn't fear for herself, clearly, but fear for the other Immortal. She took a step closer.
"M-m-m-m-m-ma-a-ke m-m-e." Nemo's voice rattled with her body's shaking, but she twisted around and disappeared in a snap, taking the scales with her. Unlike her usual disappearances, however, the remnants of a very shoddy transportation spell floated in the air. If she'd gone out of form, she clearly wouldn't have been able to hold on to the scales.
"Dammit, Nemo." Rissa muttered. Reaching her rough hand out, she closed it around the remnants of the spell, using it to form her own spell and chasing after the Imperatrix with a pop.
The black-haired girl was doing that annoying "standing still and staring at him" thing again. She swung her pistol casually around her finger by the trigger guard, as if it was the most natural movement in the world, and Jorick couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong with the entire situation. He glanced over at the Egos left, realizing that there was only one. It was the 21st one, the same one he'd been having trouble finding earlier. Unlike the other Egos who had been watching the fight with some interest, some even joking and gossiping amongst themselves, this one stared straight at Jorick, unsmiling. It was only now he realized that it had been doing that the entire time. Talk about creepy. Perhaps that had been why he'd avoided merging with it until the end.
"You're going to need it to beat me, you know." Her voice caused him to look back over at her, still standing there with a slightly amused gaze. "Go on, Jorick the
Separating, merge with the last of your creations." For a second, her dull brown eyes flashed silver it seemed, but that may have been a trick of the light.
He scoffed at her, cocking an eyebrow in skeptical amusement. "I don't need anything to beat you."
She threw back her head and laughed, but it was pleased, rather than mocking. "There he is! There's that old cocky confidence! Even if you think you can, and I know you can't, maybe you could do it as a favor to me? You owe me." The girl grinned toothily at him, rather as one might imagine a shark would upon spotting injured prey.
This did not make Jorick feel better, but he felt a sense of intrigue at her comment. He raised both his eyebrows then, smirking at her clear bluff. "Oh really? And why would I owe someone like you?"
"Oof, how harsh." Her high-pitched voice didn't sound offended at all, and the classic, creepy giggle that followed didn't seem to betray any sort of hurt. "Let's just say it's just one more thing you'll know once you merge with Twenty-One." The two of them locked eyes in something that was less a battle of wills and more a silent, but wheedling exchange. After a minute of her wiggling her eyebrows at him, and him smirking defiantly back, she clapped her hands together and pressed them against one cheek, exclaiming, "But Jorick! You're my destiny!"
His face instantly morphed into an expression of abject disgust, causing the girl to collapse in a fit of laughter. Wiping a tear of mirth from her eye, though, she continued in far more serious tones. "How about this? You merge with Twenty-One, and I will tell you where your true love sleeps. You merge, and you will know what all of it means, Jorick. All of this." She spread her arm out in a magnanimous gesture, but it didn't escape his notice that her eyes momentarily flashed to where the sun was rising in the sky.
Hurry now, not much time left. He suddenly heard her voice resounding in his head. This wasn't a memory like it had been with Marissa, though. As he looked her in the eyes, he could tell she was speaking directly to him, inside his head.
We're on a tight schedule. You never know when Nav is going to find him again. None of that made any sense to him at all, but for some reason, he believed her.
She lifted her pistol, bracing her other hand under the grip, as if she was properly planning to aim for this shot, and Jorick ducked to the side, grabbing the hand of his last Ego and doing his very last merge. There was no lull in the fight from then, nor any more words that needed to be said. She blocked several of his sword strikes with her pistol, but a gun was not terribly convenient for blocking sharp objects. They fought at a close range, and more of her attacks were with kicks and punches, but every shot she made counted. One bullet whizzed past his ear, stunning him for a bit, another caused the sword to fly from his hand and he had to run after it as another bullet chased his butt down. It was by no means a one-sided battle, though. He got in a stab in her left shoulder that she pulled away from him just barely in time to avoid a deeper slash. She didn't even stop to touch it. He got two stabs into her left leg, but she pushed him back for a bit, and finally she pressed the barrel of her pistol to his forehead. The two of them paused for a bit, and for a second, she hesitated. Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger, but it wasn't enough to cause it to fire.
Before she could, Jorick moved in a flash and plunged his sword all the way through her throat. She seemed to try to speak, but the only thing that came out was a gurgling breath. She smiled at him, and amazingly, despite the strange situation, the gentle curve of her lips was genuine. To his surprise, her voice resounded in his head again.
Do you remember?
~~
Jorick was sitting on a rock, enjoying the silence of the night. Of course, this being a very important flashback, it was a very long time ago, and obviously it was a long time before any mortal had come into being. For some reason, he hadn't been able to sleep, so he was up on the mountain, drinking in the sight of the stars up above him. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them again there she was, sitting next to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I have a favor to ask you." The Four-fathered said. She was currently wearing the form of the Black and White, as she had done often since she had killed him. Most people thought she did it to mock his death; Jorick, when he bothered to think about it, was of the opinion that she just didn't care what form she took on and the Black and White's was convenient since everyone knew he was dead and she had killed him. He really tried his best to think about his fellow creation as little as possible, so he was unwilling to dig into any deeper motivation she might have than that. She was none of his concern, and most definitely not his fault.
He thought about not responding and just pretending she hadn't come up to him to disturb his peaceful night, but he sighed and gave in, asking grumpily, "What do you want?"
"I've just been getting a bad feeling lately." She said. This in and of itself was a bit of a surprise. He hadn't been aware that she was capable of feeling anything, especially not feeling bad about anything, even if she should. He did not dignify it with a response, which was just as well, because the point of her request had been slightly different. "So, if it ever seems like the world's in big trouble, I want you to kill me."
That got him to stop and sit up properly. He actually turned to look at her, frowning suspiciously. "What? Why?" Not that he objected to trying it. He had opposed her creation strongly in the first place. It just seemed like an odd thing for her to say, when she had killed so many to ensure her own survival.
She wasn't looking at him, staring up at the sky exactly as he had been. Her voice was flippant, but her expression far from it, and for a bit he thought she really did look like the Black and White, with his steadfast earnestness. "Well, because I don't think the Gods really thought about it when they made me, you know? God of Fire, God of Water, God of Form, God of Caprice? If they hadn't tried to pair me up with that pathetic hamster, I would've thought they made me just so they could spit at the Gods of Love and Balance. So, I don't know. I get the feeling if forced to make a choice between blowing up the world for fun and going through the shitty duty of keeping it safe, I may randomly decide to blow it up."
He couldn't really argue with this probably accurate self-assessment, so opted for a gruff, different question. "Why me?"
He regretted it the second he said it, because her voice bubbled with an implied 'I'm glad you asked!' "Well! To start with, I've never really felt like killing you, which I feel like would make it easier on everybody in general. And I think you're strong. Maybe even stronger than me. So you could probably do it. Actually defeat me and kill me off for good!" There was a lot there that sounded like a compliment and really didn't feel like one, and boy it did not stop. "Besides, you act like a grumpy fellow, but you're actually quite dutiful, aren't you?" He really wished she would stop talking and let him get a word in, but even if she did, he wasn't all that sure he knew how to respond to any of that nonsense. "Since you're also the creation of the God of Form, I thought maybe I could treat you as if you were my brother. Y'know, that when the time comes you wouldn't shy away from doing what needed to be done – that I could rely on you. What do you say?!"
He didn't even have to think about his answer on that one. "No." He said, straight away, face straight. He wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that she was trying to converse with him, the idea that she considered him her brother, or her belief that she could rely on him for anything.
She did not seem much perturbed by his refusal. "You say that, but you'll do it, anyways." She said. Still staring at her distastefully, Jorick noted that there was that look in her eyes again, the one she always got when she was about to kill someone, but this time it was not directed at any one person. As she stared up at the stars, it seemed as if she was watching her own death play out in front of her eyes, like she was already making her peace with something no one else could see, not even the Goddess of Death herself.
The suggested inevitability of her statement irritated him, especially when she was ruining his night to supposedly ask something of him. "You shouldn't talk as if you really know who I am, Anaia, because you don't." He snapped, looking away. It was perhaps a childish move for him. He'd always believed himself above things like that, except in jest. From the corner of his eye, he saw her head whip towards him in surprise, and he thought he saw her face genuinely fall for a moment. A twinge of guilt tugged at his heartstrings, but he brushed it off as a passing thing.
She looked back up at the stars. Her words then were soft. "Maybe not. But even though we're talking about silly hypothetical things, I think between the two of us, it's you we'll have to trust to do 'the right thing.' Whatever that is." Jorick did not deign to respond to that and the two of them continued watching the stars in silence for a long while after.
~~
Do you remember what you told me back then? You said I didn't know who you were. She continued.
Ugh, you're still going? He shot back at her, silently, though his expression was amused rather than irritated. Of course he remembered. He had regained all of his considerable memories and abilities when he had merged with his 21st Ego.
He thought she probably would have giggled if she could have.
Shut up, I'm dying. I get to have a dramatic death monologue, and someone stabbed me in the throat so I can't do it aloud. She bantered back.
Anyways, as I was trying to say, it bothered me that you said that. I thought about it for a long time, and I realized, you're right. I don't really know you. But the one thing I do know is that you and I are two of the only three children of the god who decided to give grief a physical form. Not anger or surprise or joy, nor even love, but grief. I don't know why, but when I realized this, I thought that I would not feel ashamed if you were the one. She patted his cheek with one, blood-stained hand, leaving him wondering how someone could be so condescending even when dying.
Make it look good, will you? My one and only brother...
He locked eyes with her and again got the uncomfortable feeling that she had seen this precise chain of events exactly as it had really happened, all those years ago, long before the Madness of the Gods or the plans they had hatched together. He let out a sigh, but complied with her dying wish, drawing the sword from her body in a dramatic spray of blood and stabbing it into the wooden planks of the stage, where her blood began to collect in a little puddle around the tip of his sword. She collapsed to the ground, and moments later her wobbly little fake soul drifted from her body, too weak to create a new form. He reached out and grabbed it, as only he could, and ripped it apart, releasing the shards of the gods that had made her and allowing them to fade away as any other Immortal's soul would have. The Ninth of the Dark Gods was once again unleashed on Iwaku. But that was not the only result of her death. As she died for good, Jorick sensed something strange. One elaborate spell seemed to crack almost audibly, another whirred into motion. He narrowed his eyes slightly, knowing those two spells were part of the many things she had not told him. Plans she was taking with her to the grave, more literally than he'd like to admit.
Holmer stomped up to the barrier, carrying a small leather satchel filled with papers Cherilyn had helped him compile. Prophecies, evidence, information on the creations of the God of Form, it was all there. He just needed to get it all to Kitti. Cherilyn was busy seeking the others still outside the gates to update them as well. They would all be pretty tough to find, but this information changed everything. Almost all the various tasks had to be readjusted to account for the plans of the old Immortals. It had all taken forever.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, he sent Kitti a call, fumbling with his satchel slightly to get to his cell phone. The barrier was absolute. Not even signal would have gotten through while he was outside the grounds of the carnival. "Hello?" He called loudly, as soon as it picked up.
Kitti's voice was as light and pleasant as ever, but somehow it still managed to convey how very strongly she was upset with him. "Holmer and Cherilyn. We had expected the two of you would have finished speaking with the Witch of the Water within a few
hours instead of a few days. I hope nothing has gone wrong."
Holmer did his best not to swallow loudly, and quickly made efforts to collect himself. The Imperatrix being upset with him was nothing compared to the news he had to give her. He took a breath to steel his nerves and barreled forth in a burst of breath. "Nothing exactly went wrong with our errand, but you have a big problem. You need to find the Twelve Gates of Norlathel. That's what they call some… elite group of the ancient Immortals. I don't know what's so special about them, but that's not what's important. They're going to kill each other off to release gods, and then get rid of all the dragons they can get their hands on, thank the gods we didn't make the dragons attend, and three of them are your Imperatores or Imperatrices!" He said, urgently. "This pandemic is not the real problem, not the prophecy either, all of the prophecies are going to happen no matter what you try to do. Both things are just symptoms." He flapped his arms for emphasis as if she could see him as well as hear him. "It's got something to do with either the gods or the land dying, and if it goes wrong, who knows what could happen? Where are you right now?"
He was looking about the carnival as he talked, and was worried to find it completely dead in the area he was in. Even though it was early in the day, if everything had gone to plan, everyone would be busily setting up their stalls for the day. The eerie silence in the front made the billowing smoke in the distance and the screams faintly coming to his ears on the wind painfully obvious. He was dying to know what had happened while he and Cherilyn had been gone, and desperately hoping things were not nearly as bad as they seemed.
Kitti's response was not very reassuring. He heard her instruct Peregrine to go ahead of them to see what had happened before she even stopped to reply to him. "We're back at the stable tent of the carnival, heading towards the front. Go to the big stage in the center of the carnival. It's a good meeting place for us to catch you up and you to explain about these Twelve Gates more." Her voice was urgent, and he thought he heard her stress the words 'Twelve Gates' unconsciously as if she had heard the term before and their mention worried her.
"Alright, I'm almost-" Holmer rounded the corner to the center stage and dropped his phone in the dust, because he arrived just in time to see the strangest sight occurring on stage. One of Jorick the Separating's Egos was standing above the corpse of a girl with long black hair, making a motion as if he was tearing something apart, though Holmer saw nothing in his hands. As he did so, four little lights fled into the sky and hung there before vanishing. "What just happened?" His mouth said, before his brain could process it. The Ego turned to look at him, wiping blood from a long blade.
"You're late, Holmer." The mustachioed man said with a slightly wicked grin, and Holmer knew instantly that this was not an Ego. So far as anyone knew, Egos did possess some sort of mental capacity and free will, but none had really used this supposed free will for anything other than awful pranks, and Holmer had most certainly never had one address him directly. This was Jorick. How he had freed himself of his doggy trappings, Holmer did not know. What he did know was that the girl at Jorick's feet was the Immortal Hunter, and he had killed her with that ripping thing he had done. His research had told him that directly ripping a soul apart was one of the three ways to kill a god, and the four shards must have meant she was the Four-fathered. There weren't many Immortals with that many shards. The young Immortal took several steps back, cursing himself for not having brought a weapon instead of all his research. At least Jorick didn't seem to be in a blindly homicidal mood. He was sheathing his sword, clearly feeling like his fighting was over for now.
Something zipped above their heads, and both Jorick and Holmer glanced up at it in time to catch a glimpse of Peregrine shooting towards the fire in the distance, but the distraction was temporary for Holmer. "You killed the Immortal Hunter." He said, incredulously. "But I thought the two of you were working together."
The man raised his eyebrows in an almost mocking expression, taking in Holmer's words without seeming very worried about them. "To do what, exactly?" He asked, genuinely seeming curious, or half-curious half-smug, anyways.
That threw Holmer for a bit of a loop. Wouldn't Jorick know better than he what they were planning to do? "To- uh… I don't know! You know, to control the fate of the world, choose the next Age, things like that!"
Jorick just laughed at him. "Thousands of years of planning, a massive spell to make the entire continent forget that I was an Immortal, and you think this is about the next Age? You think like a mortal, kid. Such a narrow field of vision."
Just moments ago, Holmer had been so sure that the man in front of him was not an Ego, but he wasn't acting or talking like Jorick, either. In his experience with the Impera- no, no with the Immortal, the man had been deadly serious. Consistently straightforward and no-nonsense. Not… like this. "Who are you?" He asked, anxiously, clutching his bag like his life depended on it.
"I thought you knew." Jorick said, coolly.
"Well…" Holmer responded uncertainly. "To be honest, so did I. But I thought I'd make sure."
Jorick hopped down from the stage to stand level with Holmer, but he looked distracted, as if waiting for something else to happen. He wasn't quite focusing on the conversation they were having. "I'm not the Shape Thief if that's what you're wondering." He cast the dead girl on stage a brief glance. "She's dead. But I'm guessing you knew that, since you know so much about us now." He gestured at the satchel, still looking a mixture of curious, amused, and smug. Holmer instinctively drew the satchel slightly back, shielding it from Jorick's knowing gaze with his body. The older Immortal just grinned and said, "Why don't you tell us exactly what you've learned, Creation of the God of Plenty? What tipped you off during your errand?"
Holmer squinted at Jorick, face completely scrunched up. "Did you know we were going to find out or something? The Witch of the Water said something about Immortals among the rulers. That wasn't part of your plan or anything… was it?" That hadn't been his initial thought, but the other man was just being so calm, it was making him question everything.
Jorick rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No, Holmer. It wasn't 'part of the plan.' Whether or not a 250-year-old child of the least active Immortal clan in history gathered some information from dusty old documents wasn't really high on anyone's list of priorities. Ever."
He most certainly was not as young as 250! But he didn't get a chance to vocalize his outrage, because a soft voice chilled his bones. "That would depend on what sort of information he gathered, wouldn't it?" Kitti's face was flushed slightly, and a couple of her golden locks were in disarray, but her voice was steady and there was no sign of her being out of breath. Astaroth was close behind her, looking for all the world as if he had been standing there since the beginning of time, instead of being forced to run there as quickly as possible. Kitti was still smiling, but she was fixing Jorick with a steely gaze.
When he didn't respond to her intimidating yet polite stare with more than a, "It's about time you got here, Kitti," she pressed her lips tightly together in an expression that made Holmer back up a couple steps. Mortals were pretty scary, but none more so than the former Empress of Galer.
"If you don't think Mr. Holmer's information is valuable, do you think you could explain a few things to me, Jorick? Starting with what you're doing next to a dead body." She asked pointedly.
Jorick was still looking somewhat distracted, eyes briefly flashing to the skies before he answered with a grin. "I should think that would be obvious. That-" he pointed at the body, "is the Immortal Hunter. She threatened to attack and kill all Immortals and the dragons unless I stopped her, so I fought with and defeated her."
Holmer couldn't figure out where to look for answers. The dragons? They weren't here, were they? As long as they were outside the grounds and Anaia Tsukasa was inside, she wouldn't be able to get to them. The way Kitti and Jorick were looking at each other told him they were both deadly serious, and more likely to ignore him than anything else.
"Any other questions, Princeps Imperatrix?" The elder Immortal asked, mockingly.
"Oh, plenty." She answered back without skipping a beat, venomous sweetness in her voice. "There is so much we need to discuss, should we go inside and talk over a cup of tea?"
He seemed reluctant to move. "I don't think there's any need for that. This is as much privacy as we need. Or…" His voice trailed off and he looked to the side, a triumphant look growing on his face. Kitti, Astaroth, and Holmer all followed his gaze to see both Peregrine and Brie running towards them. Brie's normally fair skin was almost sickly pale, and Peregrine's expression was tight and just barely controlled.
"The dragons." Peregrine called out before they had even really managed to fully arrive. "The dragons are all dead." The two women stopped in front of the group. Peregrine had her palms against her knees, trying to catch her breath. Running was much more difficult than flying.
"What are you talking about?" Kitti asked, sharply, voice losing its normal gentleness for a moment.
Brie was less out of breath, but she allowed Peregrine to do the explaining, as she seemed to be reaching for the words. Taking a huge gulp of breath, Peregrine told them, "By the time I got there, half of them were already dead, but no one was fighting. No one could find who it was, but the dragons just kept dropping. The killer didn't touch anyone but the dragons, but I don't think even one escaped."
"Definitely not." Jorick said, certainly, interjecting in the conversation. "She knew all of them. There's no way she'd miss any."
All heads turned to him. Kitti was the first one to speak. "What do you mean she?" She asked, quietly. "Weren't you supposed to stop the Immortal Hunter from killing the Immortals and the dragons? If that is the Immortal Hunter," she gestured at the body, "then who killed the dragons?"
Jorick shook his head. "Dragons, you see, technically class as a special type of Immortal. The Immortal Hunter to hunt for Immortals." A lopsided smile made an appearance, spelling trouble. "But most people understand them as monsters, instead. And that's what she's better at."
Kitti repeated her question, with extra emphasis. "Who is
she?"
"The first of my fellow creations: Sophie Outis, Nemo, the Nonexistent, the Second Creation without Breath." He said, with a flourish.
Kitti startled, as if struck. "Nemo?" So it hadn't just been Jorick who she had had to be suspicious of. Even worse, why was Jorick talking about creations and the Nonexistent? None of the mortals that could be called creations were alive anymore. "Your fellow creation what-?"
Jorick grinned. He knew how much Kitti hated Immortals. "I am Jorick the Separating, First Creation of the God of Form, and a meddler in mortal affairs. The mortals once knew me as the Formless."
Grumpy glared down at the map in his hands. They had followed the little red line faithfully, the golden spot letting them know where they were going. After flying all night, they had reached a large X-mark that said, "STOP HERE." It had most definitely not been there before, but it had popped up when they'd gotten close. The bandit still wasn't sure he trusted the strange voice who had given it to him, but it looked as if there wasn't anywhere else to rest before their destination and they all needed rest. The village was small, and even if it hadn't been empty because of the carnival, it did not seem like it would have been bustling normally. The only modern structures among the old thatched roofs were billboards and sign posts advertising "Anaia's Cliffs."
As the others searched the village for supplies, Grumpy leaned down and read one of the plaques. "The Town of Shosing was established in the year 4019, by refugees of the last war of Onone. Initially formed close to what was originally known as the Grand Cliffs of Shosing to discourage visitors, the town now prides itself on being the last destination to stay for adventurers seeking thrills at the Eastern edge of Iwaku, now known as the home of the dreaded Immortal Hunter. Not a place for the faint of heart, Anaia's Cliffs have long been known to be inhospitable to all life, though no one knows why. Those who venture beyond the town line rarely return. Adventurers beware."
He glanced back down at the map and the destination marked down there. "Inhospitable to all life?" He scoffed. They were a hardy band, and he knew they could survive anything, even the Immortal Hunter, if she was there. At least it appeared the strange woman had been telling the truth. Even with the bright trail the needle had left, it seemed very unlikely that anyone would follow them to a place like that. Shaking his head, he waited for his bandits to gather again and report their findings.
"Boss! I found a person!" Sneezy called, running up to him before anyone else had a chance to get there. This was alarming news. All the people of Iwaku should have been at that dumb carnival.
Grumpy drew his sword, a savage grin on his face. They couldn't afford to leave any survivors, could they? "Where? Have you taken care of them already?"
"Well, not exactly. This way." The other dwarf led him over to a nearby cottage and pushed open the door. Sitting in the middle of the main room, with a book in his lap, was a petite individual in a wheelchair. At first glance, it would be hard to say what gender this particular individual was, but Grumpy had met him before, and knew from his voice. The man had not introduced himself when they had first met. Nor did he attempt to do so now. In fact, he did not do much more than look up from his book at the two of them. Sneezy jerked back with an, "URK!" One of the cripple's eyes was a perfectly normal brown. The other was a flat screen of silver. Not
grey, but truly silver. In fact, his eyeball appeared to have been replaced with a mirror. Grumpy could see his reflection there in that mirror of an eye, but his reflection began to move, reaching towards him. The reflection's outstretched hand started looking oddly red to him.
Sneezy stretched his neck forward to look more closely at his own reflection and Grumpy slapped a hand over his eyes. "Don't look at it, you idjit. C'mon, let's go."
"Wait, but-!" His underbandit tried to protest.
"Ignore him." He said, gruffly. "You didn't see anything, and the rest of them are probably waiting for us."
Sure enough, the other five were already gathered in the plaza, looking a little impatient, but they didn't ask where they'd gone. The look on Grumpy's face convinced them not to. "The people left all their food in their pantries, it seems." Dopey sarted. "They either left in a hurry or were planning to come back, because everything has been left as if people were still living there."
"We're staying here for the day." Grumpy told them all. "Rest, pack up provisions, feed the birds, and we'll leave in the morning."
Sleepy spoke cautiously. "What if there are people following? Can we afford to stay a whole day?"
Grumpy couldn't help himself, he took a peek back towards the building he and Sneezy had just left. Sneezy noticed it, but wisely kept his mouth shut. "I'm pretty sure this place is safe for now. And then we're heading for the Cliffs, gents, first thing tomorrow morning. Whatever's waiting for us there, I'd rather be prepared than hasty."
Mika Starglimmer blinked and found herself looking up at a dark ceiling. Her head felt like it was about to split open and a pair of glowing yellow eyes were staring down at her. She yelped and jumped up, almost crashing into the person who'd been trying to shake her awake. "SHHHHHHHHH." The intruder said, clapping his hand over her mouth. "It's me. It's Shiz." He hissed.
His Highness Prince Na'hc Oushiz of the Kingdom of Amore had sneaked his way into Iwaku a week ago, and when he'd heard there was a "writing camp carnival" going on, he was not about to miss the chance to join in just because foreigners hadn't been invited. He wasn't on official business, anyways. He had always wanted to see Iwaku, one of the few magical countries on the world, supposedly. Amore had its fair share of magic, but they were small in comparison, and even as a little boy, he'd wanted to visit the land they traded so vigorously with, having heard such magnificent stories about it. He certainly had been having a good time this week.
In the meantime, most of his mother's men were probably searching for him in a craze at home. Mika had left a note letting them know that he had gone with the intention of staying away for a month, but she knew it wouldn't be enough to stop the queen from worrying. Her wayward son had never really shown any interest in settling down. Heck, he was 23 already, and still gallivanting about looking for adventure. He had heard his mother make plans to have him be betrothed to some well-to-do lady in a few months, and he'd insisted he was going to take a vacation before it happened, telling no one but Mika, his personal guard. Mika was of the opinion that he was taking the "ball-and-chain" bit a bit seriously, particularly since she'd heard wonderful things about the lady in question, but there was no stopping him. She had attempted to talk him out of it, tried to get him caught twice, but nothing worked. They had safely and successfully snuck onto a smuggling ship (which she was most definitely cracking down on when they got back), and made it all the way over to Iwaku, which was coincidentally calling home all of its citizens for the coronation of their new rulers.
While she wasn't happy about the journey, she was admittedly curious. The Iwakuans had always been very private, and had in fact refused any sort of contact with the outside world until some fancy "Imperatrix" had opened its borders only a few hundred years ago. People hadn't even known they had existed before then. Even after they had begun to allow trade and their people had started making contact with other countries, they had only rarely allowed others within their borders, especially not during special times like their coronations. After the coronation, they had done a great deal of exploring, and while it had been interesting, she hadn't seen any reason for such secrecy. It was just another country, like any other. She would have even dared to say that Amore was more technologically advanced. But then they had slipped into the barrier, and yesterday had changed everything.
She and Shiz had been right there when the two women had suddenly started fighting, for no reason Mika could tell. She had dragged his highness away, but the chaos hadn't stopped there, and they had run this way and that before finally sneaking into someone's cabin to hide out. The prince hadn't been pleased about it, but even if she let him get away with everything, she wasn't letting him endanger his own safety. At some point, she had found herself falling asleep, but it hadn't felt natural. She knew there had been something wrong.
Waking up now, with that massive headache, she knew it had to have been some sort of magical spell. She tried to speak, but he still had his hand over her mouth, and she had to pry it off first. "Your high-" He hastily covered her mouth again. They were hiding in a rather cramped storage space under the cabin, as the tent cabins themselves had no good hiding places. This meant it was not very comfortable, but it was very easy to find his throat and jam her hand against his Adam's apple. He choked and let her go to tap out quietly. "Your highness." She whispered back. "How long have you been awake? Do you have any idea what happened after we fell asleep?"
He scratched at her hand, still choking a bit, and she realized he couldn't answer with her hand on his throat. He took a big gulp of breath. "I don't know how long I've been awake." He coughed. "It's been a while. People have been moving around putting other people in the cabins. I think they're all done now, but it doesn't look like anyone else has woken up."
She frowned thoughtfully. "Whatever they did must not have worked on us right because we're not native Iwakuans." She clambered up and grappled for the door, using the dim light from the cracks in the storage room to find her way out. Although she winced slightly at the clunk of the handle as she pushed the door open, a peek around told her the prince's assessment had been correct. There was no one else in sight. She tentatively stepped outside, reaching for the laser gun on her belt. The prince hopped out after her without waiting for her confirmation that it was safe. She sighed. This was why she could never relax. Her charge was too reckless for his position. She swore someday she was going to develop a migraine and it was going to be all his fault. She grabbed him by the back of his shirt, annoyed. "Your highness! I really must insist you take out your wench, just in case something should happen. I don't think it's safe here."
"It's
Shiz, remember? How many times do I have to tell you we have to stay incognito, Mika?" He said, pulling his shirt from her grasp instead of reaching for his weapon.
She grabbed him by the ear and yanked downwards, to make sure he was listening. "And how many times must tell
you, sire, that I am calling you no such thing. It is beneath your status, and it is beneath mine for you to call me so familiarly. Iwaku has a number of subcountries, no one will think twice about me calling you prince and you are well aware of this. Don't use this journey as an opportunity to try and change our stations and shirk your responsibilities. Now. Bring out your wench. I don't have time to babysit you if a whole group of people attack."
"I'd say you already kind of count as my wench." He joked, but pulled what looked like a little pill bottle out of his pocket anyways. He flipped the cap open and a small woman floated out, a fairy-sized creature without wings. She floated by his shoulder, a glowing, ghostly blue color. The little woman said nothing, making no indication that she had any thought or emotion, but she was much more powerful than she looked.
Mika put her hands on her hips and leaned back on her heels, looking around and relaxing slightly. A loud caw startled her back into wariness, though. Her eyes alighted on a single bird, perched atop the tent cabin across from them. This was a rather odd thing, because it was the only sign of life anywhere in the vicinity. There were no other birds or squirrels, she didn't think she even saw a single insect flying or crawling about. Taking out a spyglass, she put it up to her eye and inspected the bird. It wasn't just a bird. It looked like a crow of some sort, but it looked to be made of some shiny metal, gears connecting its wings to the body. Its eye was a little red light that looked like the aperture of a camera. It was looking straight at her with one, beady camera eye. She scowled at it, and pointed her laser gun at it. It didn't look like a threat, but it did look exactly like the sort of thing someone might use to spy on people.
Before she could fire, however, the bird dove for her with a caw. She yelled and ducked, but it wasn't aiming for her. The prince yelled, and she whipped around to see the bird digging its claws into his back and starting to drag him off. He grabbed at his wench, trying to use it to channel his power to attack, but whatever this bird was, it was made of some powerful magic, because none of the prince's spells were working, and he had been trained in all sorts of magic since he was a child. It was not an easy thing to kidnap the heir to the throne of Amore. It also had to be really strong, because it looked no larger than a regular raven, and it was carrying him off with no apparent trouble.
"Your highness!" She yelled in alarm, forgetting to be quiet. She fired a couple shots, but didn't want to risk hitting the prince. She threw a tracing device with all her might, and to her relief it latched onto the prince's clothes. Taking out the machine that followed the tracing device, she ran after the bird, hardly noticing as she raced straight through the glowing barrier they had slipped through, the barrier that wasn't supposed to let anyone out.
Grene had lost all sense of time making batches of the antidote. While only a small vial was going to be needed per person, so far as she could tell, she could only brew one stone bowl at a time, which was only enough for a few vials. She had been working nonstop for hours, and only now was she finishing up. Applo had offered no assistance, but he had stayed with her all night long, a still tree. His roots did not dig too deeply into the ground, though. The sickness that was infecting Imvadrim and spreading to the creations of the gods was overwhelmingly evident in the soil of Imvadris, and even just standing there was starting to affect him. As she finished mixing her last batch, however, he took a step forward again as a humanoid.
"So, it is time." He said, formally.
Grene smiled at him, lifting her bowl from the dais. "Let's hope this works." With no further ado, she poured the contents of the entire bowl all over the little stand. The viscous yellow substance dripped down the ancient stone slowly, staining and covering it at first, but then gradually being absorbed into it. The two of them watched anxiously. As soon as every last drop sank into the stone, the ground trembled. A high, keening shriek reverberated around the clearing, replacing the unsteady beat. The strange plants that had been littered around the area changed back to their normal form, but suddenly, almost painfully snapping into place or being flooded with color. Grene dropped the bowl, and both Grene and Applo covered their ears and had to step back not to be bowled over. Applo seemed to feel it particularly strongly, being forced to one knee to keep himself steady.
When the shrieking was finished, the steady thump-thump of the heartbeat had returned as it should, and the clearing appeared normal again, but Grene sensed there was still something strange about the place.
"Welcome, young one." A stately woman's voice rumbled and echoed loudly enough to give Grene a headache, but she could not tell if it was being said in her head or out loud. Applo lowered his head, still on one knee, so she knew who had spoken.
Grene sank to one knee as well, lowering her head. "I-Imvadrim?" She asked, adrenaline forcing the breath from her lungs.
"That is my name." The cold response was ever so slightly amused.
"Your kind has never trespassed upon these lands before, a child of mine does not lightly suffer guests in this secret place."
"If I offended you, Sacred Mother, I apologize. Only the height of need could have brought me here." Grene said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.
A light, oddly robotic chuckle filled the air.
"There is no need to fear. I know of your troubles, and you have done me a great service. Nor would I seek to punish one who holds the spirit of one of my children." Only Grene knew she was talking about Norlathel.
"But I sense that healing is not the only reason for your coming. Tell me. What else do you seek, that you would come so far to speak with me?"
For a moment, Grene hesitated, but then Applo reached over and nudged her. He was not an impatient creature, but there was no keeping the Mother waiting. "I- I don't know." She said, for she had many questions on her heart, but it was only now was she realizing that she sought answers. "There is no peace for the land." She started, slightly overwhelmed. "Ever since the gods arrived here, we have changed things, and never for the better. Everything that has been, the darkness that this could end in. Not even the Bringer of Fates knows what will happen. Our wrongs can lead this world to its end."
The echoey voice cut her off.
"How like your kind it is to let your worries of the past become your worries of the future, when you have the power to change neither."
That response stunned her into silence temporarily, but Imvadrim waited for her expectantly. "I guess… so. It's just. How can we be expected to do nothing, to accept the change as it happens?" She crinkled her brows in frustration. "Either everything shall end now, or we shall remain here again, forever waiting for the next catastrophe, dreading an death that may not come. Sometimes it feels like that is the fate of an Immortal."
"Immortal?" Grene looked up, automatically searching for the source of the voice in her surprise.
"No. We do not call your kind Immortal. We call you the Frozen, for you do not change. You do not forget. You drown in memories as if they had just happened. Your people hold old grudges, little one. Here. Let me show you. Fragment of the Invaders. Fatherless Child. The Namer has granted me the chance to show you their nightmares." As the voice faded away, images began to flood into Grene's head. She clutched her throbbing skull between her hands and curled into a ball, trying to suppress the rush of thoughts that were not hers.
Nightmares, she had said. These were memories.
