The Powers of the Pantheon

 

Savren provided answers where Zullie could not. He hadn’t been involved in the direct construction of her spell but he had helped out enough to put together what her thought process had been.

The golden rays were magic akin to Agnete’s flames. Powers of the [PANTHEON] granted to mortal avatars. Except those golden rays were likely stronger because Agnete’s patron, the Burning Forge, was cut off from this world while the Heart of Gold was not. In order to counteract that power they felt it would be best to use magic akin to that which avatars could output.

Xel’atriss, Lock and Key. Given its earlier act of kindness in opening the portal, they felt it was the best choice to base the spell on.

No one had lost their eyes from staring up at the fissure in the sky when they had performed the large ritual. According to Ilya, that incident had looked almost the same as what Arkk had described. Yet Zullie was currently in the infirmary, near unresponsive but not quite catatonic. She had been in and out of lucidity for the past week, frequently murmuring nonsense and uttering unintelligible whispers.

Had what happened to her been a warning of some kind?

Or had she lost her eyes because of some differences in the spell versus the larger ritual?

He had set Savren on researching the cause.

Savren was, until further notice, his lead researcher.

Arkk wasn’t sure how he felt about that. What Savren had done to the village of Hope in a selfish attempt to remove his annoying but ultimately harmless curse did not sit right with Arkk. Yet, since he had arrived at the fortress, he had been quite diligent in his efforts toward whatever tasks Arkk set him upon.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Zullie either. She had been beyond helpful—instrumental, even. Fortress Al-Mir wouldn’t have made it as far as it had without her. Yet she had explicitly disobeyed his order to abandon all research related to the planar ritual.

The main problem was that, if the spell had worked out, Arkk would have taken it with thanks and used it as well as he could. Especially if she improved it to the point where it formed faster and maybe used a less irritating incantation. Even if he had learned the source of the spell afterward, he would have been happy with it.

But it hadn’t worked out.

It was something he would have to deal with later on. If—or when—Zullie was capable of speaking and answering questions.

For now, Arkk had to conduct an onboarding. A sizeable battalion of soldiers had agreed to join upon Ilya reaching out to them. Deserters of the Duke’s Grand Guard following his proclamation of alliance with Evestani. Taking them in was going to quadruple the numbers of Company Al-Mir. With all the other recruiting, Al-Mir was a fairly sizable entity, numbering just short of a thousand. Counting these deserters among his number would put him in league with White Company, though only after they suffered their losses at Elmshadow and, later, Gleeful Burg.

Fresh lesser servants were having to dig downward now to provide accommodations.

The leader of this group was a captain. Or had been a captain before deserting. Captain Richter Porter. The third son of some viscount, he had gotten his position through nepotism. Given how young he was—some of his lieutenants who stood with him looked older than he was—he hadn’t gotten it through experience or hard work. He was younger even than Arkk yet had somehow garnered the support of a full crew of retainers and lieutenants, not to mention the regular soldiers in their company.

“Thank you,” Porter said, extending a hand to shake. “We all want to fight the good fight but… without the supplies and support of the Duchy, we weren’t sure how we were going to manage.”

Arkk shook the man’s hand. It felt weak in his grip. The longer he talked with the man, the less of a man the boy looked. He was just some kid thrown out here to fight. The few other deserter groups Arkk had recruited had been smaller and more… well… raiderish. Soldiers who abandoned the Duke’s Grand Guard not because of alliances but rather for more visceral reasons. Porter, on the other hand, was idealistic and naive.

Nevertheless, the link formed. Arkk didn’t have to hand out a coin to people freely agreeing to work for him. Fortress Al-Mir took their agreement for what it was and acted accordingly. Not just with the boy leader, but with his men as well.

“It’s good to have you,” Arkk forced out with a smile. “Evestani rampaged across our land and now they want to play at being friends while still occupying burgs and forcing our people to starve? That isn’t something Company Al-Mir will stand for.”

“Good,” Porter said, voice surprisingly hard. Some of Arkk’s surprise must have shown on his face because the captain firmed his features and added, “My father was at Moonshine Burg when the invasion began.”

“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Moonshine Burg had been the first location hit on Evestani’s initial march into the Duchy. Reports from the burg were scarce but it was generally accepted that assassins had killed nearly everyone in a position of power as well as most of the guards, opening the way for the rest of the army to make their way into the Duchy unimpeded.

Porter gave a firm nod of his head before releasing Arkk’s hand.

“We have quarters being set up to accommodate your men—”

“All of them? I know your elf said that was possible, but that was before she realized how many are disgruntled with the current state of affairs.”

“Believe it or not, transporting them is more the issue. The magical teleportation you used to arrive is not well-suited for an army. I can’t promise open fields with cottages for every individual, but once they do get here, there will be plenty of space.”

“Excuse me!”

Arkk looked up, looking past Porter. The boy hadn’t come to the fortress alone. Four lieutenants joined him to tour the place, ask their questions, and make sure they weren’t being conned in some way or other. Along with them, a trio of retainers had joined as well.

The one holding up a finger wore the pure white robes, adorned with gold thread patterned in the concentric lines of the Luminous Mandala. A woman who bore a striking resemblance to Abbess Keena of Langleey Village. She was, of course, an abbess with the Abbey of the Light as well.

“I was meaning to ask but the ritual that brought us here wasn’t like anything I had seen before.”

“Company Al-Mir has recruited some brilliant magical researchers. Evestani has been using unknown esoterics to great effect during this war. We are engaging in research in an attempt to counter some of what they can do. The teleportation ritual is one of our most useful products of that research,” Arkk lied easily.

“It seems…” The abbess trailed off, not quite willing to voice suspicion of the magic being anathema despite clearly suspecting.

“Unfortunately, I do not believe we have any hope of fighting back against Evestani’s golden magic without some tricks of our own. After this… Well, if we survive this war, we’ll figure out what to do about it then. But until such time, if you have any among your ranks well versed in magic, adding them to our research team is likely the best use of their time.”

Porter turned and gestured to one of the lieutenants. A squat man with sleepy eyes. “Vector leads the platoon of battle casters. He is quite a capable caster himself.”

“I’ll introduce him to… Savren, my current lead researcher.” Arkk hesitated on the name, almost defaulting to Zullie’s name before he caught himself. “They can determine how to proceed with whatever resources are available.”

“Current?” Vector asked, his voice pitched less like a question and more like a flat statement.

“My former head researcher was caught in a magical experiment and is currently on bedrest until further notice. Savren is quite capable and I have confidence in his abilities,” Arkk said, surprising himself with his honesty.

Vector nodded his head, taking the statement as fact without any surprise or concern. As if such a thing was perfectly normal.

Perhaps it was. Arkk’s first encounter with Zullie had ended up with her in an infirmary bed as well.

Shaking his head, Arkk continued speaking. “We have had several recruits in recent weeks. Some of whom are a little too new. I don’t intend to throw anyone into combat unprepared. We might not have much time but anyone experienced among your ranks who can help train the fresh recruits would be appreciated.”

“Not enough time?” One of the other lieutenants asked. This one looked to be the oldest of the bunch, maybe up to ten years older than Arkk. He had a thin mustache, though it wasn’t as well-kept as it likely would have been outside the war. “The end of winter is still a few weeks away. Marching through it has been hell on the troops, especially since we lost the support of the Duchy.”

“I’m not planning on sending anyone through the snow if we can help it,” Arkk said. “The same does not hold true for Evestani. Following the destruction of Gleeful Burg, they pulled back to Elmshadow and were content to remain in place, presumably awaiting proper support from the Duke or their homeland. But I am… working on a method that may allow us to assail them heedless of the weather in the near future.”

Just as soon as it arrived.

“Are avatars born or are they chosen later in life?” Arkk asked.

Master Inquisitrix Sylvara Astra flexed her claw-like hand, staring at it with her red eyes. The prisoner link between her and Arkk was strained to the breaking point. It had been ever since Hale finished healing her legs. Between the weapon that was her claw, her magical knowledge, and the fact that she was being treated more as a guest than a prisoner, he was surprised that the link hadn’t snapped already.

Arkk figured it had to do with her temperament. She wasn’t trying to escape or attack him, thus the fortress still considered her a prisoner.

Arkk found his eyes drifting to her legs. It was a testament to Hale’s improved skill that Astra could now walk. Arkk had half expected Astra to come out of the regrowing process with a monstrous limb, leaving her lopsided and entirely unable to walk.

He couldn’t see most of her chitinous leg with the cloak she wore but a multi-taloned foot rested on the floor. It was like a bird’s foot with several sharp talons in an array fully around the end of her foot. She could grasp things with it as easily as Arkk could with his hands.

“Define avatar,” Sylvara said.

Looking up, Arkk found her red eyes boring into him. “A being with magic like Tybalt, Agnete, and presumably other purifiers.”

Sylvara leaned back, crossing her arms only to wince when the tips of her claw scraped against her normal arm. She brushed off the mistake without a word of commentary on the matter. “The Abbey of the Light refers to such beings, able to wield powerful magic without training or incantation, as abominations. Signs of abominations typically manifest in the late teenage years—often in situations of violence—though there may be signs in earlier years when exposed to certain types of magic.”

“How early?”

“Hard to say. Generally, local abbess or priest reports will comment on various oddities in their youth. Nothing indicating strong enough magic to be sent off to academies, just… differences between them and other children. Even then, oddities aren’t uncommon. Practically every village has that one odd child that nobody can make heads or tails of. Purifiers are not nearly as common.”

“I bet not,” Arkk said with a scowl.

“Why?” Sylvara asked, leaning forward once more. “Think you’ve located one?”

Arkk slowly shook his head. “No. Unfortunately. I was wondering if it was possible to become one.”

Sylvara curled a lip in disgust. “Whyever would you want that? Abominations like them do not lead happy lives.”

“And is that their fault or your fault?”

Bristling, Sylvara stood. “We give them a chance to live mostly normal lives. Abominations tend to lose control over themselves and their magic, leaving destruction in their wake. Research into nullifying and controlling their magic is among our many duties and it is to their benefit as much as it is to that of the Inquisition.”

Arkk shook his head, not believing that for a moment. “I haven’t needed to use the ice marble on Agnete since she joined me.”

“An anomaly,” Sylvara said, dismissing the notion with a wave of her chitin-covered hand. “Or you are exerting control through another method. Vrox did insist that you had a way of controlling your other monster.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, not quite able to refute that supposition. While Arkk didn’t believe that Fortress Al-Mir was controlling anyone, least of all Vezta, he was perfectly willing to admit that it was a mysterious magical artifact that had odd interactions with spellcasters in terms of both offering power and using their magic for him.

“We’re getting off-topic,” Arkk said with a shake of his head. “You didn’t actually answer my question. Is it possible—have you ever seen someone become an avatar later in life?”

“I have never seen it. That doesn’t mean impossible, it just means they’re too rare to say anything for certain. Now answer my question, why?”

“We believe that avatars are mortal agents of the old Pantheon. Manifestations of their power and, maybe, their will. Agnete’s patron would be The Burning Forge. Tybalt’s likely would have been the Jailor of the Void.”

“It is the stance—”

Arkk rolled his eyes, waving a hand. “Yes, yes. Only the Light still casts its gaze on this world as evidenced by the sun’s rise and fall. I know. You’ve said as much before. That isn’t our stance.”

Sylvara frowned. “Casual heresy aside,” she dismissed with barely a shrug, “I’m still not sure I understand. You aren’t the kind of person to seek power for the sake of power. I understand there is a war going on but…”

“The golden-eyed man is probably an avatar of the Heart of Gold. The rays of gold that sliced your limbs from your body are a manifestation of the Heart of Gold’s power. My researchers are under the impression that it will take the power of a god to stand up to the power of a god.”

Something new came across Sylvara’s face. A deep and heavy expression, one filled with barely contained anger.

She had told him of her encounter in the woods with the man, possessing the same boy whom Arkk had already injured with a lightning bolt. The way he had callously discarded the body as soon as it wasn’t useful to him, leaving a broken, injured, and scared child behind. Arkk could understand her anger, incensed at just the thought of this avatar going around and using children as disposable bodies in his war.

He had seen it himself in Gleeful Burg. Puppeteered body after puppeteered body had come after him. Arkk had been forced to kill them.

“Then I have evidence against your claims,” Sylvara said, obviously forcing herself to keep a calm tone to her voice. “Upon locating an abomination, the Inquisition of the Light begins research to counteract their power, restraining and controlling it, thus turning them into productive Purifiers of the Inquisition. If only the power of a god can counteract the power of another god, how are we mere mortals able to come up with such countermeasures?”

Arkk blinked. That… was right. They had been able to create those bracelets for Tybalt and the ice marble for Agnete.

He pulled the ice marble directly to his waiting hand, staring down at it. “How was this made?” he asked, pushing just a slight touch of magic into it, leaving it hovering just above his palm.

A trick he had learned after having seen Vrox at the Duke’s manor. He had known it could float before but something about that last encounter just made it click.

“I’m a field agent,” Sylvara said with a shrug. “Not a researcher.”

Arkk didn’t look up to her, still staring at the marble. It was a magical object. Enchanted or innate, it constantly output cold air into its surroundings, never diminishing. Even glowstones lost their glow after a time, doubly so when doing something actively magical like powering a ritual.

A suspicion started to form at the back of his mind. A suspicion that Sylvara wasn’t as right as she thought she was.

Arkk teleported his resident dragonoid directly into the cell. A cascade of water flooded off her body, leaving glistening icy scales behind.

The dragonoid didn’t wait even half a second before lunging directly for Arkk. The link hadn’t broken, so she probably hadn’t been about to cause any serious harm. Nevertheless, Arkk reacted quickly by swapping their positions. She kept up her lunge, now unable to stop as she crashed into the wall of the cell.

Sylvara was on her feet, poised for combat but with a rapidly rising look of horror on her face as she stared at the dragonoid.

Arkk blinked, realized, and winced. Right. Sylvara had been hunting down the dragonoid before everything went south in Elmshadow.

“This is Priscilla,” Arkk said, holding out his hands in a calming gesture toward Sylvara. “She agreed to work with me.”

“Having second thoughts about that agreement, Arkk,” Priscilla snarled as she used her icy claws, dug them into the wall, and picked herself up. “I thought you humans had prudish qualms about interrupting bathing women.”

“This is important,” Arkk said, ignoring the dragonoid’s attempts at getting a rise out of him. She didn’t look any different than normal anyway. The remaining water dribbling down her body was rapidly freezing, further obscuring the icy scales underneath. “Are you an avatar of the Eternal Permafrost?”

“Ha! I wish.” Priscilla molded her hands together, breathing out a frosty breath of air that caught in her cupped hands, condensing into a loosely packed chunk of ice. “This entire planet would be a ball of snow. An everlasting winter wonderland, beautiful and serene where all you humans would freeze solid.”

Sylvara shot Arkk a pointed look. One Arkk commiserated with.

He made a mental note to himself that, if they did find a way to turn people into avatars, not to do that with Priscilla.

“Okay…” he said slowly. “What do you make of this?”

“This?” She shook her head ever so slightly back and forth, confused as she stared just to the side of his head. Raising a hand, she pointed at her iced-over eyes with a blank expression on her face.

“Right. Sorry,” Arkk said, lightly grabbing one of her hands, he placed the ice marble inside. “Does this feel—”

Priscilla’s icy eyes widened. “What is this?” she said, anger now spent entirely, leaving her with something akin to awe in her tone.

“That’s what I’m asking. What is it?”

“It feels… nostalgic,” the dragonoid said, smiling. An actual smile, fond and full of distant thoughts, formed on her face. That was a first for Priscilla. She cradled it with one hand, gently running a finger over the marble with her other. “Like something I might have felt as a child, before the Calamity struck. I haven’t felt like this in… so very long.”

That one vague statement was more than Arkk needed.

The inquisitors were using magic derived from the Pantheon to counter the avatars. That answered one question.

Now, how best to use that information?