chapter 24
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The Messenger wrapped the shawl tighter around herself as she trudged along the rocky path. This was... somewhere above the cloud cover, and she had left the blizzard behind, but she felt a strange chill of apprehension. Up in front was the imposing shape of the Ancients' fortress, casting its huge shadow on existence.
At the end of the winding path, the Messenger knocked on a pair of large wooden doors. It opened, and the handsome figure of Ancient One stood in the doorway.
"Greetings, Messenger," said the Ancient, his voice like the rustle of old parchment. "You are certainly early today... has something happened in the City, perhaps?"
The Messenger twisted her shawl nervously, and spoke softly, with her head bowed. "Greeting, Ancient One. Indeed I bring you news: the Key has been discovered by a powerful bounty hunter by the name of Evangelion, and even as we speak, he is heading directly for its hiding place to claim it for himself."
"The Key?" asked Ancient One, taken aback. "The Key stolen by Septaphim?" His eyebrows narrowed. "Thank you, Messenger... I shall need to call a Gathering immediately. Good day."
Ancient One turned to go, and the door clanged to a close behind him. He hurried along the halls, deep in thought.
* * * * *
The Gathering was more solemn than usual. There was a heavy silence in the air, as the five Ancients sat around the ceremonial Council table. It was built to comfortably seat 30 people, so there was plenty of extra space, but this time, even all that space seemed to be filled with silence.
Finally, Ancient Two stirred in his seat. The silence was unnerving. "Hm. Are you sure?"
"Very," replied Ancient One.
"Well, well. Hm. An interesting piece of news indeed. Hm. After all this time?"
"Yes. I was rather surprised as well, to tell you the truth."
The other three shifted uneasily in their seats. This was surprising news, and after being up here for so long, they did not enjoy surprises. Several hours ago, the Messenger had arrived with the news, and minutes later, the Ancients hastily convened this emergency Gathering. They had been sitting deep in though for hours, thinking: the Key had been found, and the Ancients were worried. If the runes fell into the Evangelion's hands, the salvation of their race would be lost. It was time to move, and intercept the bounty hunter in the City. Fighting an enemy you don't know well is a recipe for defeat, and they intend to gauge the bounty hunter's true strength before he reaches the Vault.
Long forgotten cupboards were opened, releasing decades of dust and decay. There was a hint of leather, and a buckle was pulled tight. A swirl of black cloth, kicking up a mini storm of dust. A soft 'clink', and the sound of weapons being checked and resheathed. Hoods were pulled over heads.
And then they were ready. Within the hour, the fortress had been locked and emptied. The Ancients were on the move, and there was nowhere to go but down.
Hidden in the shadows, the Messenger watched them leave. She sighed, and hurried after the moving Ancients. She had a sinking feeling that the first pebbles of history had been dislodged, and it would be only a matter of time before it turned into a metaphorical avalanche.
* * * * *
In the Undercity, a sewer cover flew open, clattering noisily on the street. Evangelion emerged, dragging himself out with his remaining arm. Several denizens ran for cover at this sight: a one-armed man in a great coat emerging from the pits of the Undercity could only mean trouble.
Evangelion glanced wildly around. The Gyst rune would not hold Septaphim's mind forever, and he had previous little time to get to the Vault. Handing over the Key to Mr Porpoise was out of the question now: he was expected at the mansion tomorrow morning, so Mr Porpoise would suspect nothing until then. He had some time, but not much.
He turned and ran down the streets. Time, time: never enough of it when you need it, too much of it when you don't. He had some things to take care of first, and then the Gifts would be within his grasp.
* * * * *
In the darkest corners of his mind, Septaphim stood triumphantly over a moutain of bodies: the earthly remains of his vanquished enemies. The Key hung safely from his neck, and Septaphim laughed loudly. The sweet smell of victory...
The City burned around him, as dark shadows screamed through the air, killing everything that was foolish enough to stand in their path. The skies were tinted blood red, with clouds as black as burning death. "Yes... Arathea was a fool to have linked the future of the great Ancients with these weak humans," cackled Septaphim gleefully. "The Gifts will never be found! All who seek it shall perish by my hands!"
And he laughed, a dark, mirthless laughter that echoed throughout the destruction he wrought. The Ancients are a cursed race, Septaphim knew that, but even to the bitter end, they will never taint the bloodline! No! The earth must be purged, and he will be the one to do it...
Septaphim's mind, already wracked by guilt over the murder of Arathea and the sealing of the Gifts, was finally broken by the twisted Dark arts. He had abandoned his old, noble self, and now desperately clung on to the Key as the last symbol of his sanity. It was the entire reason for his exile from his own people, but he had long forgotten his original reason for denying the corrupting power of the Gifts to the other Ancients: now, he only knew that the Key must be protected at all costs, and the Gifts must remain firmly locked away...
A sudden flash of heat seared through his head, and Septaphim clutched his head in pain. Something was wrong... and a single memory bubbled to the surface.
...a blinding flash of light...
The memory sank back into the murky depths, but Septaphim was puzzled. Strange, the memory had clearly been about a bright light of some sort, but he couldn't remember anything like it. The nagging sensation that he was forgetting something persisted, and he struggled to remember. Deep inside his own head, a memory was struggling to be heard, and he plunged his hands in, pulling out memories at random...
...a bounty hunter, pulling out a flare...
* * * * *
In the sanctuary, Septaphim opened his eyes. His head hurt like mad, and it felt like something was inside his head trying to drill its way out.
Damn! A Gyst rune! He had almost forgotten such old magic by now. Ironically, he had been defeated by a weapon that he helped to create. With a sinking feeling, Septaphim whirled around, and saw the empty pedestal.
* * * * *
The Undercity shook terribly, as a great howl of outrage came from the very ground.
The denizens of the Undercity shuddered, and began to move off the streets. Trouble was brewing, and they didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. In the Raven's Nest, the barkeeper took out an extra axe, as well as a loaded crossbow and several meat cleavers, and safely hid them under the bar counter. Better safe than sorry.
Several hours later, another sewer hole exploded outwards, and a dark tangle of shadows swam across the street. In the middle of the shadows was a terrible being, shaking with fury and moving now with demonic speed, heading directly for the Spire in the distance.
next chapter
The Messenger wrapped the shawl tighter around herself as she trudged along the rocky path. This was... somewhere above the cloud cover, and she had left the blizzard behind, but she felt a strange chill of apprehension. Up in front was the imposing shape of the Ancients' fortress, casting its huge shadow on existence.
At the end of the winding path, the Messenger knocked on a pair of large wooden doors. It opened, and the handsome figure of Ancient One stood in the doorway.
"Greetings, Messenger," said the Ancient, his voice like the rustle of old parchment. "You are certainly early today... has something happened in the City, perhaps?"
The Messenger twisted her shawl nervously, and spoke softly, with her head bowed. "Greeting, Ancient One. Indeed I bring you news: the Key has been discovered by a powerful bounty hunter by the name of Evangelion, and even as we speak, he is heading directly for its hiding place to claim it for himself."
"The Key?" asked Ancient One, taken aback. "The Key stolen by Septaphim?" His eyebrows narrowed. "Thank you, Messenger... I shall need to call a Gathering immediately. Good day."
Ancient One turned to go, and the door clanged to a close behind him. He hurried along the halls, deep in thought.
* * * * *
The Gathering was more solemn than usual. There was a heavy silence in the air, as the five Ancients sat around the ceremonial Council table. It was built to comfortably seat 30 people, so there was plenty of extra space, but this time, even all that space seemed to be filled with silence.
Finally, Ancient Two stirred in his seat. The silence was unnerving. "Hm. Are you sure?"
"Very," replied Ancient One.
"Well, well. Hm. An interesting piece of news indeed. Hm. After all this time?"
"Yes. I was rather surprised as well, to tell you the truth."
The other three shifted uneasily in their seats. This was surprising news, and after being up here for so long, they did not enjoy surprises. Several hours ago, the Messenger had arrived with the news, and minutes later, the Ancients hastily convened this emergency Gathering. They had been sitting deep in though for hours, thinking: the Key had been found, and the Ancients were worried. If the runes fell into the Evangelion's hands, the salvation of their race would be lost. It was time to move, and intercept the bounty hunter in the City. Fighting an enemy you don't know well is a recipe for defeat, and they intend to gauge the bounty hunter's true strength before he reaches the Vault.
Long forgotten cupboards were opened, releasing decades of dust and decay. There was a hint of leather, and a buckle was pulled tight. A swirl of black cloth, kicking up a mini storm of dust. A soft 'clink', and the sound of weapons being checked and resheathed. Hoods were pulled over heads.
And then they were ready. Within the hour, the fortress had been locked and emptied. The Ancients were on the move, and there was nowhere to go but down.
Hidden in the shadows, the Messenger watched them leave. She sighed, and hurried after the moving Ancients. She had a sinking feeling that the first pebbles of history had been dislodged, and it would be only a matter of time before it turned into a metaphorical avalanche.
* * * * *
In the Undercity, a sewer cover flew open, clattering noisily on the street. Evangelion emerged, dragging himself out with his remaining arm. Several denizens ran for cover at this sight: a one-armed man in a great coat emerging from the pits of the Undercity could only mean trouble.
Evangelion glanced wildly around. The Gyst rune would not hold Septaphim's mind forever, and he had previous little time to get to the Vault. Handing over the Key to Mr Porpoise was out of the question now: he was expected at the mansion tomorrow morning, so Mr Porpoise would suspect nothing until then. He had some time, but not much.
He turned and ran down the streets. Time, time: never enough of it when you need it, too much of it when you don't. He had some things to take care of first, and then the Gifts would be within his grasp.
* * * * *
In the darkest corners of his mind, Septaphim stood triumphantly over a moutain of bodies: the earthly remains of his vanquished enemies. The Key hung safely from his neck, and Septaphim laughed loudly. The sweet smell of victory...
The City burned around him, as dark shadows screamed through the air, killing everything that was foolish enough to stand in their path. The skies were tinted blood red, with clouds as black as burning death. "Yes... Arathea was a fool to have linked the future of the great Ancients with these weak humans," cackled Septaphim gleefully. "The Gifts will never be found! All who seek it shall perish by my hands!"
And he laughed, a dark, mirthless laughter that echoed throughout the destruction he wrought. The Ancients are a cursed race, Septaphim knew that, but even to the bitter end, they will never taint the bloodline! No! The earth must be purged, and he will be the one to do it...
Septaphim's mind, already wracked by guilt over the murder of Arathea and the sealing of the Gifts, was finally broken by the twisted Dark arts. He had abandoned his old, noble self, and now desperately clung on to the Key as the last symbol of his sanity. It was the entire reason for his exile from his own people, but he had long forgotten his original reason for denying the corrupting power of the Gifts to the other Ancients: now, he only knew that the Key must be protected at all costs, and the Gifts must remain firmly locked away...
A sudden flash of heat seared through his head, and Septaphim clutched his head in pain. Something was wrong... and a single memory bubbled to the surface.
...a blinding flash of light...
The memory sank back into the murky depths, but Septaphim was puzzled. Strange, the memory had clearly been about a bright light of some sort, but he couldn't remember anything like it. The nagging sensation that he was forgetting something persisted, and he struggled to remember. Deep inside his own head, a memory was struggling to be heard, and he plunged his hands in, pulling out memories at random...
...a bounty hunter, pulling out a flare...
* * * * *
In the sanctuary, Septaphim opened his eyes. His head hurt like mad, and it felt like something was inside his head trying to drill its way out.
Damn! A Gyst rune! He had almost forgotten such old magic by now. Ironically, he had been defeated by a weapon that he helped to create. With a sinking feeling, Septaphim whirled around, and saw the empty pedestal.
* * * * *
The Undercity shook terribly, as a great howl of outrage came from the very ground.
The denizens of the Undercity shuddered, and began to move off the streets. Trouble was brewing, and they didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. In the Raven's Nest, the barkeeper took out an extra axe, as well as a loaded crossbow and several meat cleavers, and safely hid them under the bar counter. Better safe than sorry.
Several hours later, another sewer hole exploded outwards, and a dark tangle of shadows swam across the street. In the middle of the shadows was a terrible being, shaking with fury and moving now with demonic speed, heading directly for the Spire in the distance.
next chapter
posted by nerdook at 11:12 AM
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