Sorry for the long delay! Finally here’s Chapter 32. But first a recap…
It is the latter half of Autumn, the fourth month of the year 6051. Jaiman is torn by war, with several factions locked in bitter struggles. In the east, Rhakhaan is besieged from the north by raiders from Zor, and west by the armies of Lord Frelik of Nolgara, a would-be usurper to the throne. In the west, the occupying Ulor forces face uprisings in Saralis and the land once known as U-Lyshaak. To the north, the Dragonlord Suthon Ni’Shaang strikes at whoever seems to have the advantage, and all across the continent the Priests Arnak are spreading their poison of fear and paranoia.
The Chronicles cast is large, and the characters come and go. Here’s a summary of the current primary players in no particular order:
Randae Terisonen: A (somewhat rebellious) Elven Loremaster
Marquess Kalen Avanir: Part Elf, son of a Duke in Rhakhaan
Jad Hurok: Also part Elf, Kalen’s distaff cousin, squire and companion.
T’tania Al-Nirak: A Dúranak woman, daughter of a member of the ruling council.
Sten Kadeson: A Myri slave, and T’tania’s lover—a relationship forbidden in their society.
Kyan Kim: A Nuyani Changramai Monk, expelled from his order (for reasons yet to be revealed) and now working for Randae.
Viscount Lukas Austrenos: Also son of Rhakhaan nobility and friend of Kalen and Jad.
Nelvana Baragon: Daughter of a Sel-kai merchant baron, she is currently travelling with Lukas.
Patrick O’Kiran: A member of the Dia Khovaria, an organization in the Terran Empire. Patrick is one of several covert agents sent to Kulthea to secretly observe its inhabitants and look for Sianetic Harbinger (aka Essænce Lord) technology.
Andraax: An ancient, immortal Essænce Lord and original leader of the Dænku Ahrenreth, an order founded to watch over Kulthea and prevent the rise of any surviving evil Essænce Lords. He suffers from bouts of insanity (something like paranoid schizophrenia) and memory loss.
Tethior: A Loar Elf, creator of some of the greatest artifacts in the world. He was supposedly killed in the Wars of Dominion that ended the previous Era. Instead he travels the planet in disguise and calling himself the Nameless One, warning leaders of impending doom.
Voriig Kye/The Silver Dragon: A Dragonlord, one of six ancient drakes who rise above their kindred not only in power and intellect, but by their possession of magical helms which allow them to live as men indefinitely.
Ondoval: Another original member of the Dænku Ahrenreth, but driven insane by his time in the Void. He possibly seeks a return to that state, the method being the destruction of the Eyes of Utha, which control and modulate the magical Flows of Essænce blanketing the planet.
More background and history can be found at http://nomikos.vroomfogle.com
Oh, one further author’s note: events in the Shadowstone Chronicle are about to start seriously intersecting with published modules, where characters here take on certain quests already detailed for game players. I realized that some events were too important not to be ignored in this narrative, and while they may be playing out in thousands of alternate Shadow World realities, they had to also play out here. So why not have these characters be one of those realities? As always, use this narrative as you see fit: perhaps to enhance your understanding of my world, or to add to the flavor of your SW campaign, or just for a little light reading. Enjoy!
As we rejoin the action, Randae has sent Kim, Kalen, Jad, T’tania and Sten--along with the Sister of Eissa Liria—to deliver a message to a fellow Loremaster in the north of Saralis. Randae’s intention is that this would be a sort of ‘training exercise’ for the young group, sending them into a somewhat dangerous situation, but with the guidance of a seasoned warrior, and the fallback protection of a powerful Healer.
Meanwhile, Lukas, Nelvana and the off-worlder monk Patrick O’Kiran are exploring the Tomb of Andraax on the Watching Isle off the southern coast of Jaiman…
Kalen struggled to keep his breathing steady, even with the help of the calming Cleric’s spell. His hands were sweating on the hilts of his saren, the blade named Phrurikanen.
Fortunately the suspense was short-lived.
A figure burst from the shadow of the trees. It was Kim! The monk stumbled into the clearing and collapsed against a pillar. As they all rushed to meet him, Kalen could see his clothes seemed to be burned and smoking in places, and he had an ugly wound on one cheek.
“Neng!” Kim gasped before falling to his knees. Sten and Jad managed to support him and lower him gently to the ground. The Monk’s face was pale and sheened with sweat; he seemed to be in some kind of delirium.
“What’s a ‘Neng’?” Jad asked no one in particular, while looking nervously around at the suddenly ominous woods.
Liria knelt by Kim’s side and laid a hand across his wounded cheek. A golden glow emanated from her palm and spread over the side of the Monk’s face. “They are vile beings from an earlier Era. Some say they are a foul interbreeding of demons and mankind. I know little of them except that they can turn invisible, so they could be upon us even now! Now, do as I say and form a circle facing out, now around Kim!”
The four of them shuffled into a perimeter around Liria and Kim, weapons at the ready.
“I saw something!” Jad hissed. “Near where Kim came out of the trees.”
Kalen looked east, opened his eyes wide and tried to will them to see better in the deepening gloom. Once again he envied Jad’s superior night vision.
“There’s another, to the north.” T’tania whispered.
With a growing sense of dread, Kalen looked south. At first he didn’t detect any movement, but then he saw what he feared: a tall, lean figure walking slowly from the cover one tree to another. As he watched, it turned its head to face him, then looked away. It all seemed to happen very slowly. Something about the way it moved gave Kalen a chill.
“They appear to be circling the clearing, assessing our situation.” T’tania said to no one in particular.
Behind them Kim groaned, and Liria whispered something to him in a language Kalen didn’t understand. He gave a short reply and Kalen risked a glance over his shoulder to see the two of them standing up, Liria clearly lending support to the Monk. The wound on Kim’s face was now just a slightly pinker area of skin, and his coloring looked somewhat healthier. “There are at least four of them, maybe more who are still invisible,” the Monk began without preamble, “And they are all Neng, so beware of their spit: it is a powerful acid and they can fire it at least twenty paces with terrible accuracy.”
“Yuck.” Jad made a face. “How are we supposed to defend ourselves against that?”
“I wish more of us had range weapons.” Sten muttered.
“We can’t stay here; they can just pick us off from the cover of the woods.” The Dúranak said bitterly.
“Agreed. Let’s make our way towards the ruins, which should provide us some protection.”
They shuffled awkwardly north, trying to maintain their formation while aiming for the nearest low wall. Kalen realized that as the sky darkened, the white stone of the ruins seemed brighter, almost as if it was luminous.
They were nearly to a low wall when the Marquess heard a strange popping sound, and an instant later Sten cried out in pain. Liria put her hand over the wound. He heard the sound again from the south and raised his sword. Yet again, time itself seemed to slow, and he could see a glistening blob of yellowish liquid flying towards him.
Without even thinking, he desperately slashed at it.
An audible wind rushed around him, along the sword in a bluish mist, and out to strike the acidic attack. When they met, the acid splattered harmlessly back in a thousand tiny droplets.
“How did you do that?” Jad demanded, incredulous.
“Uh, I’m not sure.” Kalen was shaking, his body charged with adrenaline. How had he done that? The sword must have some kind of defensive power.
The sound came again, this time from the north then the west, and T’tania said, “I’m hit! It’s burning through my leather coat!”
“Break and run for the wall!” Kim yelled.
Kalen, not wanting to give up his apparent defensive ability, kept backing up. He felt Jad brush against his right shoulder. “I wonder if my sword does the same thing.” His cousin whispered. “That shot missed me all on its own though.”
Another spit attack came at the Marquess and he deflected it again, but not as completely. A few drops splattered on his cloak, where they hissed and smoked. But apparently the acid was far less powerful when dispersed: it didn’t even fully penetrate the weatherproofed fabric.
They’d reached the ruins then; he and Jad vaulted over the waist-high wall and crouched down with the others. Kalen saw something metallic flash in Kim’s hand: it was flat, about the size of his palm and shaped like a six-pointed star. The edges looked very sharp and he wondered how the monk could throw it without cutting himself.
T’tania meanwhile drew a small knife with a very slender, gleaming black blade. Her expression was one of resignation; it occurred to him that she was probably thinking that she’d never see her fine throwing knife after today. The Marquess wished he had some kind of distance weapon, then he remembered the Phoneix Pendant. Was it time to finally try to wield it in battle? He drew it out with his left hand; the tiny orb was already glowing with a soft orange light. As he tried to concentrate, he heard Kim and Liria having a terse whispered conversation.
“I’d really prefer not to.” Liria said tersely. “You know the Sisterhood places severe restrictions on how we use it.”
“Our situation is rather grim. They will just keep us pinned down here until others arrive if we don’t strike back.”
“It’s just so… brutal. On the other hand, it might not work on them at all, since they aren’t… human.”
Just as she finished the sentence, there was another ‘pop’ and acid splattered on the wall next to Jad. It sizzled and dissolved a patch of dirt and moss, but didn’t seem to harm the stone, which was definitely giving off a blue-white glow as the twilight deepened. Stars were beginning to appear in the eastern sky.
“We could make a run for it.” Jad offered weakly. “How bad could a few acid burns
be?”
“Deadly.” Liria replied instantly. "It can get into your bloodstream and spread through your body like a venom; more than one or two direct hits could be fatal. Kim only survived because he has a Monk’s ability to control his metabolism and limit the spread. There is no way I could heal you all if several of you were hit.”
Kalen looked over at Kim, who glanced down at the glowing Phoenix, then back up, and nodded. “If we can wound a couple of them, I think they may retreat.”
“The problem is, that they are only going to be hittable when they step out to… spit.” T’tania sneered.
“I’ll stand and present a target for them. Sten and Jad, you stay down. Hopefully more than one will step out to strike, and we’ll get an opportunity. T’tania, have they changed position significantly?”
The Dúranak furrowed her brows in concentration. “They have circled about one quarter around so each is in about the same position as the predecessor, within a few feet.”
“All right, here we go.” Kim pulled his hood over his head and stood up partway. After a breath’s pause, Kalen, T’tania and Liria all rose up a bit. Kalen looked south, the Phoenix clutched in the fingertips of his left hand, and Phrurikanen raised in his right. The trees were nothing but shadows…
Liria shouted a word; he did not understand it but it carried through the air like a shock, and—startled—he reflexively glanced over. She had extended her right arm, palm out, and her hand glowed for a moment with a silver-white light. He could partially see the Neng in the woods, and as the light in her hand went out, the Neng was engulfed in the same light. He convulsed, chest thrust forward, and a ghostlike form erupted from his body then quickly dispersed. The Neng fell to the ground and the light faded.
Kalen tried to recover his concentration just as he heard the popping sound again and acid splattered on the stones between him and Kim, who sent his metal star spinning out towards the western Neng. The Marquess peered into the gloom to the south, and a moment later saw one of the Neng emerge from behind a tree. He willed the Phoenix to fire as he had under Lady Augrytas’ instruction. The orb glowed brightly, and from it lanced a thin ray of intense ruby light, straight towards the Neng. It struck the creature on the shoulder, causing its tunic to burst into flame. The Neng cried out--the sound like some unearthly wail—and ducked back behind the tree.
“Good shot!” Jad said, peering over the wall.
“Thanks, now get down!” Kalen ordered, ducking behind the stone barrier himself.
The group crouched down together for several seconds, waiting to see what the Neng would do.
“T’tania, what do you detect?” Kim asked breathlessly.
The Dúranak closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s getting hard to concentrate… wait… they are retreating! There is only one in my range now and he is moving away west. Did we kill any?”
“I did.” Liria said, her voice emotionless.
T’tania shot her a quizzical look. “I’m pretty sure I hit mine, but it wasn’t a killing strike.”
“Same here.” Kim nodded. And I think Kalen seriously wounded his.”
The Marquess smiled as he felt Jad squeeze his shoulder.
“All right then.” Kim stood, slowly at first. “I know you all are tired, but we need to press on. Let’s head back to the road where we’ll make better time, and I think we can get to the Loremaster’s house by midnight. We’ll be safer and more comfortable there.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jad stood up, sheathed his sword Kynoregnuth and stretched. “I’m already missing my warm bed back in Nomikos.”
As they headed towards the road, Liria told Kim about the bodies they had found, and showed him the documents. “They wore matching cloth armor and bracelets with a symbol like an inverted sunrise. I’m not familiar with the organization; perhaps local to this region.”
“I don’t know it either, but it looks like something that might be associated with the north where sunlight is precious. This development is very troubling though; it seems as though Randæ has dropped us into something more complex and dangerous than we had anticipated. It does sound like the bodies were left where they could be found as some kind of warning.”
“But to whom? And by whom? The bodies also had a symbol cut into their foreheads; it looked like a stylized flower.”
“Perhaps a rose?” Kim looked at her intently.
“It’s possible. Why?”
“There is an organization in this area I have heard of, the 'Order of the Four Roses' I think it is called. I don’t know much beyond the name, except that they are a shadowy criminal group, not to be meddled with.”
“Not very reassuring. Though I am curious how you know of a group in this area.”
Kim did not answer.
They passed near where the Neng Kalen had struck with the Phoenix fire had stood—in fact they could see a scorch mark on the tree-bark at about stomach level. But there was no sign of their attacker.
When they reached the road and resumed their march east, Kim asked Jad and Kalen to take the lead with their superior night-vision, while he and Liria dropped to the rear. They held a quiet conversation in Shay again, assuming that the others, all from Jaiman, did not speak the main common tongue of Emer. “I wonder if those Neng underestimated us, or if we were ‘allowed’ to proceed?” The Monk speculated.
“Perhaps some of both, though I doubt we were the ones who were intended to find the bodies. I assume that other members of the order were meant to discover them.”
“How long do you think they had been dead?”
“They were no longer stiff; that happens within half a day and then subsides about a day after that. And they were starting to give off the odor of decomposition. I would say they died between two and ten days ago. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific; I wish I had the appropriate spells, but the Sisterhood doesn’t often deal in this sort of thing.” Liria said.
“Could you tell how they were killed?”
“Both had injuries; the woman a serious stab wound. But… come to think of it now, there were no signs of Neng acid burns.”
As Liria spoke, Kim broke the seal on the letter and unfolded the stiff paper.
“That’s private correspondence!” She practically gasped.
“Since we are on our way to see the author of the letter, I will apologize and take responsibility.” Meanwhile Kim tried to read it but in this deep darkness it was too much for his mortal eyesight. Orhan would be gibbous but it had not yet risen tonight.
The Eissan Sister asked sarcastically, “Would you like me to read it for you?”
“No I think I can afford to cast a second-level Nightvision Spell; I was planning to cast it anyway.” As he spoke, the Monk’s pupils expanded to almost envelop his brown irises. He opened his almond-shaped eyes as far as he could and scanned the contents. “Hmm, it is a letter to an order called the Winter Light—”
“As was clear from the address on the envelope.” Liria snapped.
Kim continued with hardly a pause: “—asking to meet with senior members of the order to discuss shared enemies, including the Iron Wind, and… ah, it is called the Brotherhood of the Four Roses. Obviously this correspondence will be somewhat delayed in reaching them.”
“More than that, I am concerned about what we will find when we reach the Loremaster’s house.”
“Yes, that has been on my mind as well.” Kim said grimly.
Nelvana, Lukas and Patrick turned toward the doors just as they slid open again.
There, standing on the threshold, hands on hips, was a man whose resemblance to the statue in the shrine above was unmistakable. Standing before them was the living incarnation of Andraax himself. “How in the Twelve Hells did you manage to get in here?” His voice seemed to shout in their heads.
Lukas realized that he couldn’t move. For a moment he thought it was just the shock of facing the living image of the statue they had just seen, but it didn’t take him long to realize that he was, in fact, paralyzed. He could breathe, blink, even move his eyes a little; but aside from that he was immobile. The sensation fascinated him, because he could feel the muscles of his body automatically flexing and relaxing to keep him balanced and standing, yet he had no control over them.
Patrick and Nelvana appeared to be equally frozen. He assumed that Andraax had cast some kind of enchantment on them to hold them like this. He was more than a little frightened (he had to admit) but he doubted this man… (this Essænce Lord?) would harm them--at least he hoped he wouldn’t. These ancient lords were almost like gods; certainly their powers were said to rival those of the Lords of Orhan. It was assumed that all of them were dead hundreds of centuries ago, killing each other off in a great war. It occurred to Lukas that perhaps this man was not Andraax at all, but some imposter. There was no denying though that he had powers. Lukas, in the typical scattershot nature of his thought processes, wondered what all the strange-looking items were on the man’s belt. He also wondered what exactly the Twelve Hells were.
While the Viscount was processing this, Andraax was slowly circling the trio, moving in and out of their range of vision. His long black over-robe furled lazily around him, and as it was open a the front, Lukas could see that the he wore some kind of fitted black garment underneath, with a belt that had several curious gadgets attached to it. Lukas incongruously wondered how he got his hair to stand up in spikes like that… did ancient Loremasters do their own hair?
“My compliments on managing to get this far inside my tomb.” Andraax said in a powerful voice as he came around in sight again. “Though I doubt you would get far deeper into this complex; it’s a bit more sophisticated than you are used to.” He stopped in front of Patrick, plucked the device from his hand and began to examine it. He turned it over deftly and manipulated the controls as if he were an experienced user, his six-fingered hand allowing him to operate it as no human could. “The question is,” Andraax continued in a more conversational tone, “what am I going to do with you three?”
Patrick O’Kiran had a rather different reaction to Andraax, though he was at least as excited as Lukas. He felt no fear, but a great deal of awe. He had managed to start a biometric scan before being paralyzed, and he could see the readout. Andraax was indeed an Althan, one of the Sianetic Harbinger races, who once had empires spanning this galaxy but were thought long gone by all respected scholars of the Dia Khovaria. Patrick’s discoveries this far had been remarkable, but to meet a living Althan was beyond his wildest imaginings. The DK had long suspected that Ceril VII (as it was known to the Empire) had been an important planet for the Althans, and his discoveries so far had backed up that hypothesis. Finding this fully operational installation had already been the find of a lifetime, but to actually stand before a member of one of the Ancient Races…
Andraax looked up at Patrick, amethyst-violet eyes meeting hazel ones. “You have violated my inner sanctum, yet it’s apparent that you are not simple tomb-robbers.” The Lord continued. “I must know your true motivations.”
At the same time, Patrick heard what seemed like a voice echoing inside his head. You’re not from around here, are you? Certainly a superior physical specimen to these two, but genetically you are almost identical.
“Don’t worry, though, I’m not going to harm you. The worst I might do is wipe your memories of me and this place, and dump you outside somewhere.”
Ah, so there is a new galactic empire, though still in its infancy compared to what ours was. Your ‘Dia Khovaria’ organization is quite fascinating. And how did you manage to make a safe landing on this planet? The Flows interfere with all drive technologies but the most sophisticated gravitics…. Ah, you didn’t make an entirely safe landing! Such sacrifices for your profession. Why are you here, exactly?
Andraax was talking while simultaneously speaking telepathically to Patrick, while glancing down to view the readouts on the Monk’s multiscanner. And, even more disconcerting, as Andraax would ask questions, Patrick could not help but summon up the answer in his mind, often with visual memories. The Althan was picking his brain, apparently almost effortlessly. The Monk found this unnerving: all of his trained resistance to any kind of interrogation or mind probes seemed to have been easily swept aside.
Andraax deactivated the multiscanner and pressed it back into Patrick’s hand. “Interesting, if crude.” He smiled then, a tight, vaguely menacing smile, and the young monk felt his heartbeat quicken as the Althan closed his semi-transparent inner eyelids over his catlike slit-pupiled eyes and slowly opened them. In that moment he seemed particularly… inhuman.
The Essænce Lord turned away from the trio, and they were abruptly free from their paralysis. Lukas recovered his balance then hurried to help Nelvana.
“Actually,” Andraax continued as he strode towards the exit, “Come to think of it, I may have a use for you three. Things are getting out of hand on the continent, and it’s high time a certain half-breed ‘Lord’ is taught a lesson. Follow me, please.”
The trio looked at each other. Lukas and Nelvana shrugged, Patrick pulled out his multiscanner again, and they hurried along behind Andraax as he swept into the central chamber.
“I really should deal with him myself, I suppose, but this would be much more entertaining. The only way to stop the forces of Lorgalis and his Arnak Priest co-horts is by using the Crown powers, and the only one fit to wear the surviving western Crown is this boy who is currently on the run from the Priest’s assassins. He needs to get the Sea-drake Crown, gather a force and rout the invaders.” Andraax stopped at another, larger set of doors and whirled around to face the others. He smiled in a manner that Lukas could only describe as a leer. “The problem is that the Crown is currently in the possession of a certain Dragonlord far up in the northeast. Inconvenient.” He whirled around again, and pressed the palm of his hand on a small waist-high panel next to the doors. It glowed red, outlining his six-fingered hand, and the doors slid open. Beyond lay a long hexagonal corridor. The floor was made of some translucent material that gave off a cool glow, the only illumination in the passage; the walls and ceiling were of some smooth, featureless gray material.
“May I ask a question?” Nelvana said tentatively as they proceeded down the corridor.
“You just did, but you may ask another.” Andraax said without any hint of irony.
“There is nothing in any history that I know of revealing that you are an Essænce Lord; in fact, as one of the founding Loremasters I believe most texts state that you are a Loar Elf. There’s no race on Kulthea that I’ve heard of that has six-fingered hands except the Essænce Lords, yet your statue above us accurately depicts you with six-fingered hands. The statue at Nomikos Library does not. I can’t believe that we are the first people to notice that the statue here has six fingers, and that the ears are not pointed like those of the Elves.”
“I thought you were going to ask a question.” Andraax said tartly.
Nelvana scowled, catching a smirk from Lukas. “Are you an Essænce Lord? Are you really Andraax? If so, why were we allowed to see your true form?”
Andraax turned his head to look at the young woman and smiled. As he did so, he said, “I believe that was three questions.” At the same time he seemed to change before her eyes. His skin lightened from a light yellow-brown to very fair. His ears lengthened and points appeared at the tips, his eyes became less almond-shaped, and the slight epicanthic folds at the inner corners vanished. His pupils changed from the feline slits to black circles in violet irises. He also appeared to grow at least a hand-height. All without breaking stride.
Nelvana gaped and her eyes went wide at the sudden transformation.
“The statue can be made to show me in many incarnations. The presence of Patrick’s key caused it to take on my true appearance. And yes, I am Andraax. I am also an Essænce Lord, and I have been alive from a time that you call the First Era. You are not the first to see my true form, but you may be among the few who I will allow to retain the memory of me as such. Patrick is so excited to meet a real Althan in person; I would hate to deny him that remembrance.” Andraax smiled briefly at the redhead, and returned to his original appearance.
“So you have lived for tens of thousands of years!” Nelvana exclaimed disbelievingly. “Even longer than any Elf!”
“Truth be told, I was in cronagenic hibernation for much of the latter part of the First Era, but yes I’ve been around for all of the Second and the Third so far.”
“And you were one of the founders of the Loremaster Order, and Nomikos Library.”
“And I helped Tethior create the Six Crowns of Jaiman, and a few other items you are probably not familiar with. Ah, here we are.”
As the three approached the end of the corridor, another set of doors slid open before them. At first the chamber beyond was completely dark, but as Andraax entered, his body took on a blue aura. This provided a faint illumination, enough for them to follow him into the chamber. They were perhaps twenty feet in and the doors closed, leaving them in total darkness besides the supernatural glow of their guide—and the faint flicker of lights from Patrick’s multiscanner.
Andraax made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and suddenly the air above them was filled with stars.
“By the Lords!” Nelvana whispered.
It took Lukas a moment to realize that they had not actually been transported to somewhere outside at night, but that they were in a huge hemispherical chamber, at least a hundred paces across. The domed ceiling was completely black except for myriad tiny flickering lights. He recognized several familiar constellations: The Twins, The Scales of Valris, Eissa’s Gate…
“If you like that, you’ll love this.” The Essænce Lord, still striding forward and enveloped in a shimmering glow, raised his hand. Several large disks inlaid in the floor suddenly lit up, then out of each of them sprang a luminous sphere several feet across. Each was unique in size and color; many were banded with brightly colored horizontal stripes. In the very center of the chamber, a larger fiery yellow ball perhaps fifteen feet across appeared. Each sphere hovered a few feet over its disk for a moment, and then began to slowly float around the room. They circled around the larger sphere in the center of the room, which remained stationary.
“It’s amazing.” Nelvana sighed
“What is it?” Lukas finally managed to ask.
“It’s a holographic representation of the inner nine planets of this solar system,” Andraax called over his shoulder. “The scale is not accurate of course; everything is much closer in relation to the size of the planets and the orbits are tremendously accelerated, but it’s more just for show than anything else.”
The explanation meant nothing to the Viscount but Nelvana nodded; she at least understood that these were the planets near Kulthea. The merchant aristocracy of Sel-kai was fairly enlightened and well educated, including in some principles of science. Crude telescopes had allowed astronomers to determine that Kulthea was just one of many planets whirling around a great fiery ball they called their sun.
Patrick of course had suspected the truth of this holograhic orrery the moment he’d seen the spheres.
“Look, there’s Kulthea!” Nelvana took Lukas’ hand and pulled him towards a bluish sphere covered with white swirls. They almost had to run to keep up with the floating orb, which was about as large as they were tall and drifted along a couple of feet above the floor. “There’s Jaiman, and Emer… you can just make out land masses in the East! How amazing! What strange ring-shaped land masses, like Thuul but all over…”
“Come along!” Andraax snapped and strode across the room, robes furling in his wake. He walked right through the sun as if it wasn’t there.
Patrick jogged to catch up to the Essænce Lord. “If you don’t mind, I have some questions as well.”
“I was wondering when you’d get around to it.” Andraax sighed. He slowed his pace as he approached the far side of the dome, where a representation of the ninth planet, Ombari, was inlaid in the floor, half hidden under a door identical to the one they had entered through across the room. The holographic version of the planet was slowly sweeping along the outer edge of the chamber.
“What is this ‘cronagenic hibernation,’ some sort of temporal suspension? What happened to your empire?”
“Yes cronagenic hibernation is time-dilation technology; it’s the only thing that’s effective over such long spans. As for our empire, it succumbed to what all governments seem to eventually: arrogance, complacency, corruption.”
“Are there any others of your race still alive? A couple of years ago I was involved indirectly in an… incident… which may have involved another Althan on the planet Thessel IV…”
“Yes there are several others of my race still around on this planet, but I don’t think you would like to meet them; they aren’t as kindly towards ‘lesser races’ as I am. There may also be a few on other worlds that I don’t know about, and from what I can gather from your mind, the planet you called Thessel IV was one where we had an installation, and it could have been a place of retreat for one of my kind. Fortunately it seems to have been resolved with her leaving this plane—as I feel I should do soon.”
Patrick blinked twice at this strange admission, but pressed onward. “What about the energy streams that cover this planet, and allow some people to use what they call ‘magic’? Do you understand how it works?”
Andraax glanced over at the approaching Lukas and Nelvana (still holding hands), then his attention turned to the Ombari hologram as it floated ever closer. “Even we never fully understood the Flows, though some of us were able to use them as well. They are not unique to this planet, though there are very few other locations where they manifest. We believed that it was an energy from another dimension leaking through to this one. While localized, the energy from the Flows is considerable.”
“We cannot understand them either, but they are shielding this planet from close observation. Despite—or perhaps, partly because—of this, it is becoming a place of interest for several governments and organizations.”
“So I see. They may be in over their heads, especially if they try to investigate in the east. Though it may be moot if Ondoval has his way.”
“Who is Ondoval?” Nelvana asked.
The ancient Essænce Lord looked at the young woman, and the young man next to her. Their hands were clasped as they stood side-by-side and he could see the muscles in their fingers tighten slightly as they anxiously sought some reassurance from each other. These poor children; they are what is left of the future of Kulthea; and what chance to they have against the titanic forces that insist on lingering on from the past. Ondoval, Lorgalis, the Lords in the East. Terrible artifacts we cannot destroy. So unfair… but as he felt the despair rise, he knew with it would come the madness. One deep breath… another… he was under control again, for now.
“Ondoval is an Essænce Lord not unlike me. In fact he was a member of the Dænku Ahrenreth with me, an organization charged with protecting this world from our less scrupulous brethren who might have survived. Unfortunately, Ondoval seems to have a rather different concept of ‘defense’ these days, which may include destroying the world—or at least the Flows—to save it. I disagree with this plan of action.
“But, Ondoval is not your concern; I have other plans in progress to deal with him.” Andraax shot Lukas a quick, hard glance. The boy has no idea his friends the cousins are involved in that plot; good. In case he was captured, it would not do for that to be revealed. He’s already drawn the attention of certain factions of the Jerak Ahrenreth. “There is something else I would like you to do, however… Ah here we go, Ombari is coming around…” Andraax raised his hand just as the holographic planet intersected with the one inlaid in the floor—and at the same moment cast a sly glance back at his guests—“even I can’t get in here without the correct alignment; a little security precaution.”
The projection of Ombari disappeared, and where it had been, the previously closed doorway stood open.
“Here we are, let’s press on. Can’t keep the planets from orbiting forever you know.” Andraax smirked again, as if he had made some private joke that only he could understand.
They walked down a hexagonal corridor—the walls actually being in two parts, the lower portion sloping out from the floor, and the upper sloping back in to a narrow ceiling—and came to a metallic door in the same shape. It seemed to be one solid panel, but as they approached, it split into six sections like a pie being cut into slices. The sections slid away from each other and disappeared into the surrounding walls and floor and ceiling. Beyond was another strange chamber.
Not as large as the planets room, yet wondrous in its own way, this chamber was a complete sphere about thirty feet across. The door was halfway up the side of the sphere, opening onto a metal catwalk running the perimeter along the equator. At the far side of the catwalk was an open doorway. But in the very center of the sphere hung a translucent orb about four feet in diameter. It was supported by a number of slender black rods radiating out into the surrounding metal walls of the sphere. The sphere seemed filled with a churning, changing multicolored light—all that illuminated the room. Pulses of light shot back and forth through the black rods.
As they followed the Essænce Lord along the catwalk, the Kultheans gawked while Patrick lagged behind, his multiscanner bleeping furiously.
“What is that?” Lukas finally asked, gesturing toward the glowing sphere. “I feel… something.. from it.”
“It’s a computer.” Patrick answered just as Andraax opened his mouth. “A sentient AI.”
“‘Aye-eye’?” Lukas ventured.
“It’s… hard to explain.” Patrick sighed.
“It’s a brain! Andraax snapped. “In that glowing ball is a brain. An artificial brain… far more intelligent than almost any living thing on this planet.” He added under his breath as he passed out of the spherical room and down a corridor. After about ten feet, the passage ended, opening onto a rectangular room with a vaulted ceiling. The walls, floor and ceiling were all of black polished marble. Inlaid in the far wall in some translucent green glowing material was a huge representation of an eye with a slit pupil. As they entered the room, four rounded pilasters at the corners of the room began to give off a soft glow. Dominating the chamber were three rectangular objects, each about ten feet long, four feet wide and four feet high, laid in a row across the middle of the room. The middle one differed from the others in that the top eighteen inches was transparent, and inside lay the body of… Andraax.
“Welcome to my tomb.” The Essænce Lord turned around to face them and bowed.
“What in the name of—” Lukas muttered, while he and Nelvana looked from the body to the Essænce Lord and back.
“It’s just a hologram, a projection.” Patrick explained as he entered the room, multiscanner aloft.
“So its an illusion? Like the planets? It all seems a bit pointless, since I doubt anyone but you could ever get in here.” Lukas said with a shrug.
Andraax shot him a glance that could have killed (perhaps literally, the young Viscount thought), then indicated the pedestal to the left. Lying on it—or actually partway in it—was a sword. It looked like the pedestal had been hollowed out specifically to fit the gleaming weapon. And what a weapon. The sword overall was more than five feet—as long as Nelvana was tall--with a slightly scalloped edge along one side. The silver-bright metal was etched with fine tracery and had a faint bluish hue. The guard was fashioned like the fin-like wings of a sea-drake, curved around the two-handed grip. The pommel-stone was a spherical blue-green gem resembling an opal. “This is the Sea-Drake sword, weapon of the designated champion of the King of U-Lyshak.” Andraax said with an unusually serious tone in his voice.
“It’s beautiful.” Nelvana leaned against the pedestal to get a better look.
“Well I can’t take much credit for the design; Tethior and his apprentices worked on that.”
Lukas edged a bit closer to get a look at the weapon, all the while casting wary glances at Andraax. Patrick meanwhile seemed more interested in the third platform, waving his device over it.
“You know how to swing a sword, don’t you?” The Essænce Lord snapped at the Viscount.
“More or less…” Lukas hedged. He didn’t like where this was going. He was getting the feeling that Andraax was about to saddle him with some sort of ‘big responsibility,’ and if there was one thing that Lukas Austrenos ran from as fast as he could, it was responsibility.
“Well this is a particularly nice one, and it will help you locate the Sea Drake Crown.”
“I have a nice sword.” Lukas said weakly. “I happen to have left it at home.”
Instead of answering, the Essænce Lord turned to Nelvana. “He’s such a simpering thing, why do you put up with him?”
“I don’t know... maybe his looks...” The Sel-kai native was still so much in awe of Andraax that she could barely concentrate. Because her education was more well-rounded than Lukas,’ she had a better understanding of who and what an Essænce Lord was, and here was one of the greatest ones of all time. “But I can use a sword,” she blurted out.
“Indeed.” The Essænce Lord raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah she can best me with rapiers!” Lukas volunteered, a bit too eagerly.
“Very well. Nelvana, if you would like, you take hold of the sword and see how it likes you.”
Unlike Lukas, the Baragon heiress was actively seeking some greater purpose in her life. Whether she recognized that consciously was another matter.
Nelvana closed her hands around the two-handed hilts of the Sea-Drake sword. “I can’t lift it.” She said, then pressed her lips together and pulled harder. Still the sword lay snug in its alcove. Then suddenly, it released—so quickly that she staggered back a few steps. She held the big two-handed sword with the blade pointing upward, testing the weight.
“I was beginning to wonder if you could lift the sword, much less swing it.” Lukas said with a short laugh.
“He’s really rather annoying.” Andraax said loftily. “As a matter of fact, the sword was held in place by a magical force; it could only be released by someone permitted to use it. Now, my dear, let’s see about attunement.” Andraax stepped forward, placed a fingertip on her forehead for a moment, then stepped back.
The Baragon heiress blinked a few times, then smiled. “This is quite remarkable! I can feel the sword’s… presence!”
“Let’s see how well you fight then.” Andraax pulled an object from his belt, roughly cylindrical in shape, about ten inches long. Most of it appeared to be a handgrip, while the rest, a silvery cylinder, had several small protrusions. The other end appeared to be hollow. “This place is a little tight for two-handed swords...” He nodded to Nelvana.
“So what am I supposed to do…?” She snapped back, then a look of surprise and delight came over her face. “Oh! Yes I see!” She furrowed her brows in concentration, and the Sea-drake sword began to glow. Before their eyes it shrank down and reshaped itself into a one-handed broadsword. It retained the scalloped blade and beautiful wing-shaped guard, but the entire sword had otherwise transformed somehow.
“Did you do that!?” Lukas asked incredulously.
“Yes, I just thought that I wanted a broadsword, and it changed!”
“A polymorph sword! What next?” The Viscount threw up his hands.
“You had your chance.” Nelvana grinned triumphantly.
Patrick shook his head and muttered something about ‘molecular memory rephasing.’
“Excellent." Andraax said with a smile. "You’ve already mastered a base function of the sword. Some users never even earned of that feature, sadly for them.” The Essænce Lord then shifted his attention back to the device in his hand, fiddling with some of the protrusions. “Let’s see, we’ll adjust the blade alignment to non-destructive... those swords are resilient, but don’t want to take any chances...”
Patrick edged closer, staring intently at the object in Andraax’s hand. “Is that... is that a power sword?” His voice was reverent, nearly a whisper.
Andraax glanced at him then back down to the device. “It is similar in some ways to what you call a power sword in your time, but it has several other… capabilities.” As he finished the sentence, he aimed the rod close to vertical, and a beam of intense violet light sprang from the end, then stopped about three feet away, forming what looked like a semi-solid rod of energy. A low humming sound filled the room.
Lukas and Nelvana both gasped audibly. “What in Charôn!” Lukas exclaimed. “I’ve seen a flaming sword, but that’s… really scary.”
“As it should be, boy.” Andraax’s voice took on a sterner tone. “This weapon, depending on the setting, can cut through almost any solid matter like a heated knife cuts through your duchy’s soft goat cheese. However,” He nodded to Nelvana, “I have set it to merely act like a padded practice weapon, and to deliver a very mild electrical shock—a small incentive.” He brought the sword down and the blade grazed Nelvana’s upheld sword. Sparks sprayed and danced from the contact, but she only felt the pressure of some blunt weapon against the blade. “ready for a little sparring?”
The Sel-kai heiress nodded, though the glint in Andraax’s purple eyes gave her more than a little trepidation. At times the Essænce Lord’s manner was decidedly strange, even alien. This was one of those times. There was something about him, something cold and distant, and… inhuman.
Andraax casually brought his thrumming power sword up, and then performed a series of attacks. His movements were sometimes amazingly swift, yet he seemed to Lukas to execute them in an almost leisurely manner. Nelvana parried each without too much trouble. For the moment she seemed content to remain on the defensive. Probably assessing Andraax’s style, the way that power sword thing works, and how her own new sword balanced, Lukas thought approvingly.
The Essænce Lord attacked again, this time a bit more aggressively, and the Viscount could see that the young woman from Sel-kai was struggling a bit more to parry each strike. Little bluish lightnings danced between the weird blades when they pushed together for more than an instant, and the Sea-Drake sword was glowing again with a blue-green light that seemed to flow up and down the blade. In a way, Lukas thought it hardly less bizarre than Andraax’s blade-of-light.
“Not bad.” The ancient lord said through his teeth.
Then Nelvana attacked.
The young woman lunged low as Andraax held his blade high, and came within inches of his leg. Andraax’s eyes went wide and he deflected the attack at the last moment, then launched his own attack.
Moving even faster than before, his sword arced around and came down from above. Nelvana barely got her blade up in time. Then he went at he midsection, then high. She stopped them all, but he was driving her backward, towards the open doorway to the sphere room.
Lukas and Patrick both watched, transfixed, as this strange duel went on. Andraax continued battering at the girl, his attacks coming faster and more forcefully, while Nelvana struggled to fend them off. She was in the doorway, and Lukas saw perspiration on her forehead. He also noticed that the Essænce Lord’s aura—which had been all but invisible the last few minutes—and brightened to a very noticeable blue-violet halo about his head and upper body.
Using the narrow confines of the doorway, she tried another thrusting attack, but this time the Essænce Lord easily pushed it aside, then riposted—and struck her on the back.
Nelvana cried out at the shock the sword delivered, and looked up to see a cruel smile grow on Andraax’s face.
“How dare you attack a Lord of the Essænce, you pathetic human!?” He shouted, then lunged forward, pushing her back into the sphere room and against the metal railing.
Lukas and Patrick exchanged alarmed glances and rushed down the hall after them. Patrick surreptitiously drew his pistol, though he doubted it would have any effect on Andraax. When they got to the other end the found the Essænce Lord striking at Nelvana again and again, with a sort of cold, unhurried brutality. His face was fixed and expressionless. She was barely able to deflect one in three attacks, and flinched under every strike.
“That’s enough!” Lukas shouted, stepping forward. “You’re hurting her!”
“Why are you doing this?” Patrick added, but was careful to stay behind the Essænce Lord.
Andraax did not reply.
“Stop it!” Almost without thinking, Lukas stepped between the Lord and Nelvana.
Andraax raised his power sword to strike—then suddenly paused. Humanity washed over his face like a wave. His shoulders slumped and he lowered his sword, deactivating it at the same time. The bright aura faded. “I apologize.” He nodded to both of them. “That was inexcusable. At times I become… not myself. It is a symptom of my age, I fear. Fortunately you were able to snap me out of it before it fully took over me.” He gave Lukas a tight almost-smile.
For his part, the Viscount was shaking with the realization of what he had done and what could have happened. Then he felt Nelvana’s arms around him, her supporting him as much as he did her.
“Let me rest for a moment, then I will tell you what I would like you to do.” With that Andraax swept past them back into his ‘tomb.’
“Okay,” Lukas said softly, “Who else thinks something really weird and scary just happened?”
