Loose
stone rasped beneath Surien’s boots as he walked the narrow path that led from
the Settlement to the Raven’s Circle. Glancing up, he caught sight of a narrow
black form winging its away to the west. He growled softly, grinding his teeth
at being watched so blatantly. Had he believed that the dragon was alone, he would
have sent every whorri left to him
after it. Luck never favored him that way, though. Likely, there was a full
Flight lurking within the clouds or just beyond sight in the mountains.
Turning
back to the path, he walked on. Lights began to glow within the windows of the
houses that he passed as twilight deepened. The dwellings became fewer and
fewer as he walked until, as twilight deepened into night, he was alone on the
path. The mat of grey clouds had begun to tear, shredding into drifting threads
in the evening breeze. His eyes adjusted
quickly, gleaning the pale near - light of Morobe’s slender crescent. The only
sound other than his boots on the path was that of the creaking leather and
clinking scales of his armor. His broad hand rested lightly on the pommel of
the metal tipped goad sheathed at his belt. The red short cape attached beneath
his gorget drifted with the breeze casting shifting shadows on the ground.
Sweat and rain cooled against his skin setting a chill within him as the heat
of the day faded. The chain mail at the back of his padded helm caught at his
matted hair, but he ignored the discomfort intent on the path ahead.
The path descended
from the Settlement towards a cleft in the rock of the hills. Sheer walls of
dark stone rose steeply on either side with only the twisted and stunted form
of scrub trees clinging desperately to small cracks in the stone face as
relief. Boulders and rocks lay strewn across the path tumbled down from the
heights over the centuries since his people had been banished to this place. He
picked his way past each of the falls placing his feet deftly in footfalls he
knew to be safe. Ethereal fingers of fog crept up from the ground in sinuous
threads as the night deepened further obscuring the line of the path. Surien
did not slow, but merely continued his determined pace down the receding slope.
Here in the deepening
night alone with nothing other than his own thoughts to distract him, he could
sense its presence. The dark shadowed other
which had become part of his being so many years ago. A gift…a reward bestowed
to him by the Raven’s Circle for surviving the Selection. He alone of thirty
had survived the trials to be selected as Master of the Bloodbourne. Those that
wore the red called him Master and bowed deference just as he had done for his
predecessor these twenty years prior.
The shadowed presence
was just that – an apparition - never corporeal, but as much a part of him as
his true shadow. Though truly, it seemed more akin to his soul. It lived though
he knew it never drew a breath. It was aware. Its thoughts filtered into his
own wrapping its sentience in with his own until it had become, after all these
years, an extension of his own existence. It had power as well. Through this
grafted existence, he was able to control the Hellkites. The influence and
control that he was able to exert on the creatures and their handlers flowed
from this other. He knew with
certainty, though, that this was only the smallest portion of what lay within
that presence. He could feel the storms of potential roiling within whenever he
drew upon it to exert his control. It was there seemingly just behind him as
always. Cold, powerful and as much a part of him as each breath he took.
The rattling of stone
rolling against stone brought Surien’s thoughts away from the darkness that had
been given to his soul. Hellkites, three on either side, rose from their posts
in the rock. Mauls, bred from the
wolf stock that had been found in these mountains when his people had first been
banished here. Fangs twice as long as those of an ordinary wolf with large
instep claws that could rend a creature twice its size in moments. They had
been mindless slavering wretches when he had first taken up the goad. Yet, he
had managed to breed intelligence back into them by pairing them with captured
wolf stock from the Odonae. In twenty years, he had managed to take a mindless
species and turn it into a creature which no longer needed handlers or breeders
to control it. They were given direction just as any human would be and they
heeded it.
Surien raised his hand
towards the nearest to his left. It was larger than the others with a coat
nearly darker than the stone on which it rested. Even to his sight, the Maul was nearly undetectable save for the
two golden eyes peering at him from the deepening night.
“Tarring siar, Rend.”
Surien growled.
The creature blinked
languidly, and then lowered itself into a resting pose. A breath later the
scrape of claws against stone came to his ears as the others settled back to
their stoic watch. Surien grinned slightly, allowing himself this small measure
of satisfaction. His sentries paid no further heed to him as he passed between
them.
Fifteen more steps brought
him to the end of the path. Torches ensconced in iron brackets affixed to two
stone obelisks on either side of the path guttered fitful light. Surien
squinted at the brightness, stopping for a moment to let his eyes readjust.
“Weakness,” he grumbled
still squinting at the torches.
The pale and weathered stone
of the obelisks stood nearly twice his height. Hewn from something other than
that of the mountains, they stood at the entrance to the Conclave – the
gathering place for the Raven’s Circle. Each pillar had the image of a raven
chiseled into it. Ancient glyphs trailed beneath each bird, but they had become
so worn over time that they were no longer legible. Still, it did not matter.
He had been taught the phrases long ago and could recite them now even were he
overcome with senility.
He turned to the left pillar
and spoke, “What lies without.”
Turning to his right, he
canted, “What lies within.”
No comments:
Post a Comment