Machine, page 8
part #1 of The Peradran Legacy Series
Morbannon regarded the wall carvings, there was a time when he took such blessings. Men and beast alike fled before him. He fought with both hands, a long sword in each. Leaping into battle he fought for power. He could weave a circle of defence that likened a net of steel around his battling carriage. With cunning grace he dropped four men with each sword. The cries of the fallen would engulf him, pushing him deeper into battle. Arrows pierced his flesh, Arcane healing would literally push the projectiles free before they could slow him down. There was a time when nothing could stop his battle for power and riches.
At the sound of steel Morbannon whirled out of his chair, Spiritmoon in his right hand.
“Kagen, take it easy. I'm just showing Makad my sword.” Cohiri handed the sword over the table. Makad accepted with both hands. He immediately directed his gaze toward Morbannon's sword, in the day lit room it claimed a more mundane exterior. Cohiri's sword on the other hand appeared much more distinct, its subtle glow diffuse in the daylight.
“How did you two meet?”
Morbannon held out the Amulet.
“I see... Your Amulet.” He looked at the two Wizards but saw them as warriors. “You have succeeded. I'm sure your meeting was interesting.” He handed the Dancing Sword back to Cohiri. Morbannon returned Spiritmoon to his side.
The trio stood in silence. During the impressionable moment they sized one another up, reading the subtle vibes that motivated their next actions toward eachother. Makad would not meet either gaze, averting his eyes from one to the other. Morbannon nodded and sat and gestured for Cohiri to do the same. He did not want to insult his host, he needed the privacy the forest offered. Makad sat also, he seemed at ease once more. After all they were warriors the three of them and warriors were all kin, even if they were – Humans.
“Try this fruit wine, its chilled – see the perspiration on the glass?” He held his glass up, condensed water dripped off the bottom.
Cohiri tried a sip that turned into a gulp. “Makad – it tastes so cold I can't believe it.”
Morbannon seemed uninterested though he tried a swallow and gave a sedate affirmation.
“Well Kagen, now that you have the Amulet what do you intend to do with it?” Makad's inquiry was non directed, he was just curious.
Daring not lie in the Lalgorè's home Morbannon chose to proceed with a tactful untruth. “I must use the Amulet to find my employer and inform him of my success. From there I may be required to further utilize the Amulet's power. Then I'll return it to Cohiri.”
Cohiri seemed to relax upon mentioning of the Amulet's return to her possession. She had begun to wonder what Morbannon/Kagen was up to. He seemed to trust Makad, who did seem trustworthy. Somehow something was not right, behind all of the civilities there were selfish motives. What they were she could not tell. For now she would follow Morbannon's advice and stay with the Lalgoræ. Their rich culture would be a fertile place to study the Arcane.
“When do you start?” Asked Cohiri.
“Right now.” Morbannon dangled the Amulet by the tiny chain and gazed into the ruby gem. Its subtle glow intensified as he whispered Arcane phrases that would awaken the powers of the Amulet. He paused and said, “This might take a while.” He then returned his concentration to the Amulet, ignoring Makad and Cohiri as they left the room.
Arcane vision allowed Morbannon to see with the power of the Amulet, attuned to his soul and partly to Cohiri's. The sight of the Amulet drew him past Cohiri and Makad, outside in the moss grotto and into the Void. The Amulet would direct him quickly to the presence of his banished soul. He followed its guidance as he surveyed the expanses of the Void.
Shortly he realized that something was wrong. The lost soul should easily be located, few if any Wizards other than himself had the power to banish a living soul. Now dead, Forazi was the oldest Steel Wizard and closest to immortality, only he could attempt to effect Morbannon sans chorus. There was no reason to assume any harm has come to the lost soul. Push harder – he doubled his concentration and spoke aloud more potent magic's. The Amulet began to radiate brilliant red light causing the shadows to shift from the sunlight to the glow of anti-red inside the room. The light gave off its own heat bringing a light sweat to Morbannon's forehead and upper lip. The moisture took the likeness of blood in the red light.
Through a barrier that felt like razor blades Morbannon found his Arcane vision had alighted upon an alien landscape. The ground was a desert filled with shrubs and strange forked stalks. The Amulet found its bearing and the landscape slipped past in a blur. The Amulet found its way to a gate that could only lead to Zeraad. He forced his concentration upon it, the image became flawed and then faded. The gate was not of the Arcane, it had been formed by other means.
The Amulet, drawn by its nature began to search out the lost soul again. Leaving the gate behind, Morbannon followed its pull into the ground. The darkness surrounded his vision for a moment then into light again. Into an underground room, through the wall and into another then another and another. The rooms flew past and each wall rushed up into a moment of blackness.
The visual maelstrom suddenly ended. Morbannon stood, his face tense with concern. What could have transpired that brought the lost soul to this room in an alien world? He regarded the scene; expecting Arcane geometry and incense with a demonic sorcerer in control, he saw only a complex suit of armor. Then it exploded. The insides opened up like the fans of an avian beast. Then it froze in mid explosion, the leathery insides pulsing slowly. The insides pulled themselves back in and the strange armor went wild, like a living thing it thrashed toward Morbannon and pounded its fists against the floor. As suddenly as it started it stopped. In mid thrash it froze.
The image of the strange armor grew dim, the Amulet was losing its bearing. Something was controlling the armor. It would seem there was a sorcerer involved after all. Somehow the lost soul has been trapped inside the alien armor. That would explain the violent reaction to Morbannon's presence. The lost soul is that of a Steel Wizard, destined toward power and immortality. Being trapped inside a mechanical contraption would encourage such behavior. Control would be impossible, the unfortunate sorcerer must be at his wits end.
Suddenly the connection was broken completely. Morbannon found himself staring at the Amulet once again, its glow dim and diffuse. He would have to explain the delay to Cohiri. The lost soul would have to be summoned in the traditional fashion, inside its present host. Another location must be found, the fragile forest would not endure the transgression. Bringing the possessed armor to Makad's Khapr could only result in senseless destruction. He put the Amulet in his waist pouch which was designed to fit unnoticed under normal clothing.
As he adjusted his shirt Cohiri poked her head in the door, he turned to face her.
“This is going to take longer than I thought.”
Cohiri's face pulled over with distrust. “You said 'one day' that was all, no more.” She entered the room, ready to stand her ground right then and there.
“Take it easy.” Makad entered behind Cohiri and rested his hand on her shoulder. She stopped her advance which had Morbannon on guard. “You should listen to him first Cohiri, so it might take a little longer. You're both welcome to stay until you've finished your tasks.”
“Its not that simple Makad. I must leave the forest, take my business elsewhere. Its not safe.” His words shook Cohiri loose from Makad's grasp, she began to advance. Her sword slipped loose in its scabbard and began to rattle eagerly.
“Kagen, say something!” Makad was not open to a duel in his apartment.
“Cohiri, listen to me,” Morbannon spoke quickly and evenly, “you have my sworn oath that I will return the Amulet once I've finished, eight maybe twelve days tops. You can wait here in the forest until I return.”
“No, I'm going with you. I don't care where you must go but I stay near the charm at all times. That is the deal. Then there is the matter of my sword, you agreed to help me master its control.” Upon mention the sword leapt from its scabbard and alighted before Cohiri, hovering ominously between her and Morbannon.
“That was the reason I agreed at all.” She reached for the sword. When it grew heavy in her hand she relaxed and sheathed it in its scabbard, making sure it was tight in its carriage.
“We could not do that here either but you would have had your charm. I'm going to try and use it again, there are a few ripples that were not expected. I'll wait for nightfall, that is the best time to... make contact.” He intended to learn more about the sorcerer that found and trapped his soul. He didn't need the Amulet for that but he would use it anyway, the energy he would absorb from it would make the task easier.
Morbannon looked hard at Cohiri, trying to instill fear with his most sordid stare. She almost fell for it for a moment but confidence welled up and she stood fast. Being a Wizard was all she could think of, it would be better if she had the charm. The charm meant alot. She hadn't forgotten about Ciltia either, the memory of her first vision remained strong. She also remembered that Ciltia was a Lalgorè. For all she knew Makad was in liege with her. Leaving now would insure the deal she had with Morbannon would be concluded.
“When do we leave?” Cohiri asked before Morbannon tried to stare even harder.
With a tight smile Morbannon said, “Tonight, we leave tonight.” He dropped his gaze and passed Cohiri to Makad's side.
“I trust there is a trader in your Khapr?”
Makad said, “Yes.” And motioned for Morbannon to follow him outside. He then called back to Cohiri. “You want to come with, see the Khapr I call home?”
“If it is closer to the ground I'd be glad to tag along.” The minute swaying of the ancient tree limbs had Cohiri feeling a little acrophobic. Makad's apartment must have been at least a hundred feet up the massive Scalla Tree.
The Lalgoran portion of the Koroot Forest was mostly Scalla trees, which were long-lived with thick, twisted trunks that continued to grow seasonally for thousands of years. Scalla trees were renowned for their mutable wood which could be shaped into exotic twists and curves without cutting the wood. Special leather shaping tools were crafted from the Scalla branches. Cohiri was familiar with the flexible nature of the wood. It made the swaying more dramatic; her knees felt weak.
“Let's go then, the trader is below on the far side of the Khapr. We can travel the lower walkways to get there.”
Makad led them trough their previous route into an older portion of the Khapr. The walkways here were more substantial. With solid wood bridges constructed much like the walls of Makad's apartment. Heavier branches were made to grow together and then shaped with smooth handrails and level footing. The elaborate weave would form ornate patterns on every surface, even the walkway itself.
The Khapr would seem only as large as the immediate vicinity, the rest of the Lalgoran bridge town was concealed carefully in the foliage. Broken up with the occasional crisscross of smaller bridges that led elsewhere in the Khapr.
Here near the center of the Khapr Lalgoræ activity was abundant, the general populous seemed preoccupied with daily chores. The third solid bridge and a detour around a truly massive Scalla was a public garden, suspended on thin vines and almost invisible netting many exotic plants flourished. The effect was breathtaking, all around there were bridges leading to who knows where, above, below and next to their own bridge. Around the bridges the garden flourished. Above, sunlight filtered through, below the ground was visible only where the sun light fell. The patches of light danced as gentle breezes carried the branches high above in their arboreal setting.
Throughout the garden Lalgoræ wandered. Somewhere above and to the right a musician played a Lal'don, an Lalgoran string instrument, small enough to carry around easily. Played like it was the Lal'don gently serenaded the garden with its melody, intermingling with the random sounds of the avian forest life.
A young couple passed the trio, they passed greeting to Makad personally, and politely acknowledged Morbannon and Cohiri in passing. Others seemed to recognize Makad but no greeting was passed, his appearance must have been a common occurrence.
Lalgoran fashion was quite casual except for those of a high status. Their garb was fashioned more elaborately with flowing capes and high collars that curved above their heads. The few so endowed stood out among the rest of the Lalgoræ and would attract curious glances from the common folk.
Morbannon admired the Lalgoræ, their social structure was so cut and dried. Each Lalgorè was completely happy with their given birthright, be it royal, noble, wealthy or common. There were those like Makad who earned a higher status through accomplishment. In his case his birthright was hard to discern, as a warrior he protected the Khapr and could be called upon by his superiors for nearly any task they desired. Makad would be only too happy to comply, his warrior status put him above the common set. Just the same he worked for a living.
A twenty foot wide staircase led down about seven feet to a heavily traveled path, worn smooth by carts and small hand-drawn wagons. The path was as wide as the stairs. Nested close together the path was integrated into enormous Scalla trunks. Arranged within the twists and knurls were the traders goods, arranged neatly on natural Scalla shelves.
The traders post was large, even by Koroot standards and well defended, guards could be seen watching and assisting would be customers. The thick fire resistant Scalla trunks were ancient and have grown together forming impenetrable walls that vaulted to over two hundred feet above
Since Morbannon still needed a few things, he would have the Amulet appraised, enchantment intact. Cohiri was immediately drawn into the variety of Lalgoran wares. Items possessing magic were placed openly for sale or trade - she would not see him hand over the Amulet for appraisal. If she did, her Dancing Sword would tell an impressive tale. The way it was bonded to her made it very sensitive to her emotions. If she should become distressed the sword could react as a personification of her intention, like it did in Makad's apartment earlier. Her inability to control its spirit was the only thing keeping her from advancing in its proper usage.
Morbannon introduced himself as Kagen to an elderly Lalgorè with long red hair and presented the Amulet. Immediately the old Lalgorè escorted Morbannon to a back room behind a wall of hunting supplies. In private the Lalgorè revealed an eye-loop and examined the tiny ruby. Shortly the old Lalgorè said, “This Amulet was created for the sole purpose of attracting sorcerers' wild magic; Arcane energy that went unspent loose on the planet. It could absorb the very magic right out of this Scalla trunk if wielded properly.” He held out the Amulet to Morbannon. “Appraisal fee equals one thousand, the true value of this stone is virtually priceless. It has unlimited potential as an Arcane Focus.”
“You sound as if you have seen this Amulet before.” They were alone and surrounded by large crates and chests. A small table and chair rested within arms reach.
“I've seen its like, within the realm of the Eschelea. They prize such wealth and may kill for its acquisition.” That would be good to know. Morbannon paid the inflated fee and returned to the store.
Morbannon was familiar with the unique Eschelea. They were a race of beings ancestral to Lalgoræ. They lived in the poisoned caverns below the Central Mountain Range named the Great Ridge. There the very ground was dangerous to walk on, for the very essence of the mountain rock is deadly to all but the Eschelea. It was not magic but a natural phenomenon that evolved the Eschelea and Eschelea into Lalgoran Kind. The seemingly obvious similarities between Lalgoræ and Humans was related to natural selection. It was their form that adapted to the world outside the Great Ridge the best. Inside the caverns the Eschelea had developed an advanced society of Arcane beings. Small in numbers, merely ten to twenty thousand at any time. They were born quadrupeds and lived for thousands of years. Each Eschelea quad would change form every six-hundred years. The new form was bipedal. Each cycle was viewed as a rebirth and a new life cycle would begin with a new identity. On occasion an Eschelea might leave the caverns to travel the world in search of that new identity, there they might encounter one with an item such as the Amulet.
The Eschelea were malicious people with transparent skin that revealed much of what was underneath. In bipedal form an Eschelea appeared vaguely Human or Lalgoran, average build. They had three long fingers and an opposable thumb. The tissue below their skin was pale pink and dark red arteries streamed throughout, accented by deep indigo veins that bulged through the tissue. The face of an Eschelea was just as horrid, there was no cartilage on their head, the nose and ears were fleshy orifices. The mouth was thin-lipped and filled with tiny teeth and a tactile tongue. The eyes were large and solid black with opaque lids that were also solid black, lined with fine white lashes. The bipedal Eschelea was otherwise hairless.
The quadruped Eschelea were a sight to behold, four powerful legs supported a thick four foot high body. There was no tail nor was there a head, not of the usual sort. Atop the powerful front shoulders rested an enormous membrane, thick leathery flesh covered the entire quad. Hairless and bone-white the mentally psionic Eschelea quad was a fierce and extremely dangerous guardian. Without manipulative hands the quads interact with their environment via mental powers that surpassed Morbannon's own Arcane powers on a singular level. A small band of young Eschelea in quadruped form guarded Morbannon's secluded lair, a Keep of sorts that was well suited for the task of returning his lost soul. A full two nights flying to the West at the top of a secluded valley wall in the Great Ridge. They were given free reign of the Keep and upon Morbannon's return they would leave.
Cohiri need never see the Eschelea, for her they were the things of stories made to scare children and superstitious adults. A fear has been generated from those stories. Stories believers told of the malicious Eschelea, trails of terror left behind them whenever their magic was used. Most often it is the biped that Man and Lalgorè encountered, it was they who relied heavily upon the Arcane. The quads had their ample mental powers and shunned contact with the outside world. They preferred the primitive approach most natural to their form, hunting unaided in the unpoisoned mountain caverns that attract unique and potentially dangerous beasts. The legendary Chimerae, all but extinct, fell to such motives of the Eschelea quad. It was the Dragon Killer that Cohiri was sure to fear the most.
