“There are three methods through which the Abbey of the Light creates countermeasures for abominations. Each depends on the level of access we have to the subject.”
Sylvara Astra sat atop an unused desk in the back of Cliff’s magical academy. While she maintained her air of professionalism, she also seemed far more relaxed than any other time Arkk had seen her. Given that those other times involved a siege, limb loss, and long recovery, he wasn’t all that surprised by the ease in her demeanor.
On the other hand, Inquisitrix Lui sat perfectly still, watching with narrowed eyes and arms crossed over her chest. Whenever Arkk glanced in her direction, he found himself on the receiving end of a glare that could level mountains. He wasn’t entirely certain that Sylvara’s decision to include her was the right one. It felt like the first wrong question or comment would get that tattooed purifier set on him.
“Ideally, we have direct and cooperative access to subjects. Purifier Irina here,” Sylvara continued, waving a lazy hand at the purifier, who sat just to Lui’s side, still looking content with the situation. “She approached the Abbey, asking for help sealing an uncontrollable power. That allowed a progressive, mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“If you don’t mind me asking…”
“She’s a luck vampire, among other things,” Lui answered with a stilling glare toward Sylvara, clearly not intending to offer anything more detailed than that.
She didn’t need to. Among the pantheon, Arkk knew of only one figure that would be associated with Luck. The Fickle Wheel. The god of luck, misfortune, and random chance. Patron god of gamblers everywhere, at least back in Vezta’s day.
Vampire carried some implications. Namely, that of a creature that feasted on other beings, mostly humans and demihumans. There were said to be vampires inhabiting the forest near Darkwood Burg, as well as other places, but Arkk had never actually encountered one. Supposedly, they could blend in with demihumans to the point where it was difficult to discover one.
A luck vampire would, logically, feast on the luck of others, diminishing their luck to raise her own? Uncontrollably, if Irina had needed the Abbey’s help in getting the ability under control. Arkk couldn’t picture luck as some kind of commodity that could be moved between people, nor what tangible effects losing or gaining luck could have.
Luck and misfortune were just terms to describe whether or not the outcome of a situation was beneficial or detrimental. At least, in general use. How such terms might behave under the power of a supposed god of luck was another question entirely.
Either that one ability was so destructive or otherwise inconvenient that Irina had to find help dealing with it… or there was more to her abilities. Given the way Lui shut down the question before he managed to ask it fully, Arkk was betting on the latter.
Still, it was a basepoint for potentially dealing with that ability.
“Through various methods of research,” Sylvara continued, “the Abbey’s Binding Specialists developed a ritual array that would vent conceptual luck back into the environment, effectively nullifying the danger posed.”
Arkk’s eyes flicked up to the glowing tattoos that adorned Irina’s forehead. They didn’t look like any ritual array that he was familiar with. Perhaps that was the point. If luck was a commodity, couldn’t an array like that be used on anyone to diminish their luck and, perhaps, raise that of someone else? The Abbey wouldn’t want that kind of magic out in public, able to be studied by anyone like Zullie who happened to spot it.
Presumably, it could be turned off somehow, allowing the purifier to carry out her job.
“Tybalt represents the second method of creating a Binding Agent. Uncooperative capture. While Tybalt’s ability was devastating, it required specific motions of his hands. Thus, the Abbey was able to capture him and study him simply by keeping his hands locked in iron gloves. The manacles developed to counteract his abilities did not have any benefit as Irina’s tattoos do. They utilized a planar array to redirect the magic his body produced into an alternate plane.”
For some reason, Arkk wasn’t surprised to hear that the Abbey engaged in anathema like planar magic. He simply nodded his head. “And the third method, I presume, is for when you lack any access to the avatar?”
“Correct,” Sylvara said, drumming her gloved hand against the top of the desk as she leaned back against the wall. “It essentially involves creating active items that work to counteract abilities, often using the principle of polar opposites. For example, a marble made of magical ice to shut down intense flames.”
It was Arkk’s turn to narrow his eyes. Agnete had never shared much about her past. In fact, she rarely talked of her time with the inquisitors—never spoke of a time before that—only offering information about the inquisitors when asked. He knew that, before contracting with him, she had not handled the presence of flames well.
It was easy to imagine a young woman, swept up in the intoxicating power, dragging a burning wall of flames behind her as she walked from one end of the Kingdom to the other. But that wasn’t who she was today. Hearing about her past, especially outside her presence, felt like a violation.
For a moment, Arkk thought Sylvara had seen something in his expression. She stopped talking, shifting in discomfort. It wasn’t until he noted the readying postures of Lui and her chronicler that Arkk realized a red hue had overtaken most of the room. Even the calm purifier shifted, moving her hand toward the waist of her long coat.
Closing his eyes, taking a breath, and reopening them, Arkk noted the lack of red. “Let’s not discuss Agnete for the moment and focus more on the how. Specifically the how this relates to the Heart of Gold’s avatar.”
“Very well,” Sylvara said. “This last method is often hit-or-miss. Sometimes doing nothing at all. Other times killing the subject outright. There isn’t usually much time or many opportunities to test the objects before use.”
“I don’t particularly care if we kill the avatar. Or, rather, killing the avatar would probably be a positive.”
“Normally, if the object is ineffective, the Abbey simply tries a second time. Or third. Or tenth… However, this case is slightly less advantageous to us. If we reveal our hand without success, the avatar will know we’re working to counteract his powers. He has an entire nation at his back, researchers, personnel, and material. He isn’t some loner out causing havoc that has no support.”
Arkk nodded his head. “Best not act prematurely.”
“The first step is identifying the true nature of the ability. Something like fire is fairly obvious. Other things aren’t. The abilities that the avatar of Evestani displays are wild and varied, far more so than typical purifiers, with little theme aside from the color.”
“That might be a problem for an ignorant observer, but we know that this is the avatar of the Heart of Gold. The god of wealth, greed, gold, purity, and possessions.”
“Which allows us to better identify the true counter for the ability,” Sylvara finished. “After that, we develop an object, usually utilizing more planar magic, that embodies, produces, or otherwise leaks the ability’s counter.”
Arkk looked upward, thinking. There were sixteen members of the Pantheon, according to Vezta. But thinking over the names, he wasn’t sure that they all had direct counters. Some were obvious. The Holy Light and the Cloak of Shadows seemed like they would counteract each other. As Sylvara had mentioned Agnete, the Burning Forge and the Eternal Permafrost were fairly obvious. He knew for a fact that the ice marble was, in some way, related to the Permafrost simply because of how Priscilla reacted to it.
But…
Blinking, Arkk looked back down. “The ice marble is linked to the Permafrost? Directly, I mean.” He knew it was linked, but for it to be a bit of planar magic—magic bridging the planes…
“I was able to peruse the development records for Purifier Agnete’s Binding Agent. It is a solidified piece of planar magic linked to a realm of… well, ice, essentially. There is no mention of any other deities in any of the Abbey’s records.”
Arkk pondered over the latter half of what Sylvara said. The marble was planar magic from a realm of ice, presumably some kind of minor, mobile portal structure that could be opened, unleashing that ice.
He had access to the Underworld. Could he make a Cloak of Shadows marble? Something that blasted darkness around instead of ice?
That was something to think about. Zullie had become somewhat obsessed with Xel’atriss, but perhaps this would be a good way to get her on an alternative project.
“I’ll get Vezta’s opinion on which of the Pantheon is most opposed to the Heart of Gold. She’ll know better than anyone,” Arkk said, opening his eyes once again. “Once we have a target, how do we create the object?”
Sylvara didn’t respond right away. She had a look on her face like she didn’t want to deliver bad news. “For that, I have to hope that your esoteric researchers will have some ideas,” she said after a moment. “I know some of the how, but I would need access to the plane. The way the Abbey does it is to use our oracles to hone in on the requisite plane.”
“And getting access to an oracle will be difficult, I presume?”
“Practically speaking? Impossible.”
Arkk almost said that he had done a lot of impossible things in the last year. Convincing someone to work with him—or kidnapping someone and forcing them to help—sounded like a small bump in the road compared to traversing to the Underworld or conversing with a god. Still, he would probably have asked Zullie first before trying to get more help from the Abbey, so no point mentioning that in front of Lui.
He could tell just from the aura around her that Sylvara was spilling more of the Abbey’s secrets and methods than she would prefer.
“I’ll have to see what they can come up with,” Arkk said.
“There is something that might help with that,” Sylvara said, reaching back behind the table to lug up a narrow metal container. “Before I left, the High Librarian came to me, saying that she had an object in one of the archives that could possibly assist with my task.”
“You discussed this with other people?”
“No,” Sylvara said as she unlatched the metal case’s lid. “But Vrox and I often went to the High Librarian when we needed to find certain tomes for our research. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out what we were planning based on that.”
Cracking open the lid, Sylvara carefully reached both hands into the container. She withdrew a large chunk of vaguely yellow iridescent crystal. It was larger at one end and narrower at the other, like a wedge that didn’t merge into a single point. A large rune was carved into one side, though Arkk didn’t recognize the symbol.
“I’m not sure what this is,” Sylvara said. “The High Librarian said that someone I choose to share it with might know. So, Arkk. Know what it is?”
He had an idea, though he wasn’t sure how he would utilize it. Zullie might know, however.
It was a part of a portal. The large crystalline archway in Fortress Al-Mir was made of the same material. It also had runes scrawled across it. Judging by its shape, it was something like a keystone.
Arkk didn’t open his mouth. Lui and her chronicler were staring at him just as much as Sylvara, if not more. Even if they did want the avatar dead and Evestani stopped, just outright admitting that he had some high anathema magics so easily accessible seemed foolish.
“Possibly,” Arkk settled on, looking back to Sylvara. “I’ll have to consult with my researchers to be certain.”
Looking disappointed, Sylvara replaced the crystal in its container. “In that case, I suppose we should get to the crux of why we’re here. Not that these other things aren’t important to discuss…”
He pressed his lips together, wondering if there was another topic he could shift to. On the walk over to the academy from the slums, he had already gone over the small talk, politely asking how the journey from Chernlock was and what the weather was like down there at this time of year.
Dry and chilly, apparently. Arkk had never been, but he did know most of Chernlock was a desert. Most of the population down there built along the central river that cut through the land, one of the three great oases, or along the coast.
“Regarding the coming disaster,” Sylvara said slowly.
Arkk sighed. He didn’t think anyone would blame him for wanting to put that talk off just a little longer.
“I presume it isn’t an immediate threat, or we would have focused on it first.”
Sylvara shifted, then glanced over to Lui.
The other inquisitrix pursed her lips, then said, “Oracles do not provide a precise analysis of any situation. But the closer to the present an event is, the clearer their description will be. As portents of events to come may appear suddenly and without warning, they are surrounded at all times by chroniclers whose duties include nothing more than writing down everything that goes on in the oracle’s life. Any event is then sent to the interpreters for…”
“Interpretation?” Arkk guessed.
Lui narrowed her eyes, then looked to the unassuming man who had thus far not said a word. Chronicler Klink reached into the vest of his coat and pulled out a rather thick notebook, bound in black leather. Reaching into the other side of his coat, he pulled out a single monocle and, squinting with both eyes, peered down into his book.
He cleared his throat.
“Under a veil of sorrow, the ground does quake, Its heartbeat stutters, fearing the ache. Hope’s flame wanes thin beneath night’s heavy shawl, While a mournful wind’s cry foretells the fall.
“The wave advances, not of water, but of will, seeking to take, to conquer, to kill. Yet, beneath the surface, where currents collide, the solution lies in darkness, to confide.
“In a time when day bleeds into night, and the stars hide, fearing the coming light. A guardian rises, not from myth or lore, holding the key to a long-locked door.
“A beacon for the lost, in the darkest of fights, a secret bond forms of twilight heights. Joining in to dance where umbra exists, the keeper of lanes, In silent accord, illuminating borders, they forge chains. The storm’s fury grows and greed claims the day, hope seems but a whisper, swiftly swept away. Claiming every tomorrow, every dream, every stash, leaving echoes of a world in the gloom of the ash.”
Arkk, hands clenched together in unusual tension, waited for more. Another paragraph. Another line.
But Klink had other plans. With another slight clearing of his throat, he pulled the lens from the crook of his eye and placed it back in his pocket along with the leather-bound book. He looked up and around the room with his lips pursed into a thin smile.
“That’s it?” Arkk said.
“That’s it,” Klink said.
“Isn’t there a stanza missing? Some bit about how the world is saved in the end?”
“Most oracular insights aren’t quite so lengthy,” Klink continued. “Often, they’re far more relevant to upcoming events in the next week or month. This seems to encompass a great many events, an already difficult endeavor. To then see the outcome in the end would be unheard of.”
Arkk hissed out a pained sigh. “I don’t like the last line ending in gloom and ash.”
“I very much doubt the oracles care for your likes and dislikes.”
“Enough,” Lui cut in. “Arkk. Does anything stand out to you in particular?”
Practically every line had at least one word that could have meaning. Multiple meanings, if he spent any time trying to parse them out. But the biggest bit that struck him as something relevant had to be… “The third verse. A guardian rises, holding the key to a long-locked door?” He didn’t want to sound arrogant, but he felt that referred to him.
That single line could be interpreted in a dozen different ways. A long-locked door could easily refer to the portal to the Underworld. Xel’atriss, Lock and Key, who seemed to be mentioned indirectly, was the one to open that portal but now it was him who had access to it. And what was he if not someone who had risen from nothing to, now, guard the land from Evestani and the Golden Order?
The end of the previous verse mentioned a solution beneath the surface. If the guardian rising was related to that…
He looked around the room, feeling an odd knot in his stomach. Lui stared at him with that same ire that she had shown since first walking into the tavern. But now, he could detect a hint of resignation behind that gaze. Sylvara as well, though her gaze was more pitying than angry.
They caught that verse too. Whatever else the rest meant, they believed that one verse related to him. He didn’t know how they had come to that conclusion. Although Sylvara knew more than most because of his invitation to a meeting or two before she departed for Cliff and Chernlock, she shouldn’t know about the portal or the Lock and Key.
Sylvara would work with him until the Heart of Gold’s avatar suffered a final death. Lui, on the other hand, he had been uncertain about her presence here. Now it made more sense. She—both of them—believed he was the answer to this coming disaster.
“I don’t suppose your interpreters have better ideas than what I’m thinking,” Arkk said slowly, not holding out his hopes for anything.
“A revelation of this potency is unprecedented,” Klink said with a wistful smile. “The Ecclesiarch has quashed discussion of the matter until the interpreters have concluded their debates, but those are looking rather endless at this point. They don’t even rhyme, normally,” he added as a delightful afterthought.
“The only reason we are aware,” Sylvara said, gesturing from herself to Lui with her gloved hand, “is that Vrox heard these words in person and sent the letter to Cliff ahead of my arrival. As a close confidant of mine, Lui received it and… read it without realizing it wasn’t meant for her eyes. Though it wasn’t until I arrived and was able to explain a few things that we came to this joint effort.”
“I merely seek the truth of the matter,” Lui said, back stiffening. “The oracles are attempting to gather as much information as possible to make their operations as reliable as possible.”
“You’re going to inform them of your findings, I take it?” Arkk asked.
“Naturally. The sooner this can be parsed correctly…”
The sooner Lui could assault him without fear of ruining the one hope mentioned in all that drivel. Assuming they found some other guardian.
Frankly, he would be happy if they did. There were enough weights on his back as it was. He didn’t need to add the weight of the entire world onto it as well.
“In any case, the interpreters are still arguing,” Sylvara said. “We don’t know what form this disaster will take or even how soon it will occur. It might not be until well after our lifetimes. There are only three prophecies of similar magnitude in all of the Abbey’s history and none of them were retroactively assigned events for centuries after their original inception.”
“Given my luck,” he said with a small glance at the purifier, “the world is going to end tomorrow morn—”
A sharp jolt of a quake kicked the floor, shaking the books from the shelves and knocking dust from the ceiling.
Arkk was on his feet immediately, as were the inquisitors, though he almost tumbled to the floor as a second jolt shook the academy.
He waited, stance wide and steady. But no third quake hit the room. That did nothing to ease the tension.
Sylvara’s red eyes swiveled in his direction. “You were saying?”
Arkk just grit his teeth. “Maybe luck is real after all,” he mumbled to himself.