A Long Way

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 3 DAY 25

Susie lashed her mare again, heedless of the templars she left in the dust that smelled of decaying leaves and wet grass. Their negligent pursuit was criminal, if not heretical. She was certain none of them had personally witnessed the horrors of failing to pay the “hero tax”. Even now, the heads on stakes and burning houses frequented her nightmares. At least once a week she would wake a pool of sweat, with blood and ashes on her tongue.

Having begged on her knees before Archbishop Arplis for a spot on the pursuing team, she was not about to squander this opportunity. Capturing Ruxian, a creature unworthy of his blessings, would surely catapult her above Lucius in the orthodoxy. No more revealing habits. No more airheaded nun. No more playing the victim.

Pausing briefly at an outpost, Susie dragged her horse to the river and enlarged her scissors. The snips, stabs, and slashes stretched her weary muscles and stilled her avaricious yearnings. Wiping sweat from her brow, Susie scribbled a message and sent a pigeon towards Sothrend. With all the advancements in Magecraft, she wondered why fluttering wings sustained the postal system.

Mounting her mare again, Susie caressed the tired creature before giving it a kick. As the wind tossed about her hair and ruffled her dress, she spun the scissors with deft fingers. She would need to be at her best if she was to best Dramien. Rumour had it the heroic captain had conspired with a hero to assassinate Emperor Paerawyn.

In a way, Susie found Dramien’s betrayal rather convenient, having neither forgotten nor forgiven the way he spared the Dracon wench. The thought of sinking her scissors into his throat brought a sadistic smile to her lips.

“I was following orders,” she rehearsed. “I…I knew what I did was wrong. Please give me another chance.”

If all else fails, try crying. Sniggering, Susie whipped her horse again. She couldn’t wait to catch up to her quarry.

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 3 DAY 28

Lucius received Susie’s pigeon moments before he could tip out his salad, a sorry assortment of greens more fitted for nourishing the earth than men. The weary bird, however, pecked away at it with gusto of a dozen starving orphans. As his hands smoothed out the sheet of paper, its crinkles crept onto his forehead.

Brother Lucius,

With this message I inform you that Ruxian escaped the ritual. The templars and I are in pursuit. Please pray for our swift triumph. Also, it seems Dramien has turned against the empire. Be on alert.

IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 3 DAY 25

Susie

Lucius stared out the window, then to the wooden Goddess on his desk, painstakingly chiselled, filed, and polished. He made it at age eight to remind himself of her divine affection. Now, he felt only her judgment.

“The Goddess dotes on the devout and diligent,” Lucius repeated the mantra as he slowly rose to his feet. “Wasn’t summoning that poor soul enough for you?”

Though he bowed to the statue before exiting his room, Lucius felt his complaint entirely justified. That night he shook Ruxian’s hand, he thought it was a sign from the Goddess, a reward for suffering the deprivation and boredom of the southern countryside. Setting aside his personal gripe towards the Goddess, Lucius readied a smarmy smile, waving at the congregation as he passed the prayer hall, closing the door on the echoing hymn.

The local tavern, an unassuming shack tucked away behind a herd barn, was the only reason for Lucius to brave the burning gaze of the sun. Plopping himself on a shaky stool, the priest ordered a goblet of the nastiest grog, hoping the alcohol would overpower the cow dung.

“Brother Lucius,” sang a man in baritone, sinking into a neighbouring chair. “This is a miracle. You’re on time.”

Lucius wrinkled his nose and drained his cup. “Cabron, is it done?”

The lanky hunchback cackled as if Lucius told a joke and slid a sack across the table. “Goddess my witness, I didn’t do nothing.”

Unknotting the pouch, Lucius counted the coins. Shortly after the rhythmic clinking ceased, he shot Cabron a sidelong stare. “And the rest?”

“Goddess my witness,” protested Cabron, making a face. “The slave markets were teeming with refugees escaping the western front. You’re lucky there was even anyone prepared to take those horned brats off your hands.”

Lucius grimaced. No sound could be more grating than the name of the Goddess coming from the filthy lips of this cretin. Knowing they belonged to the same class of corruption elevated bile to his throat. Or perhaps that was the burning liquor.

“So…our captain perfect has turned,” probed Cabron, studying Lucius his larger eye. “Didn’t figure him for a turncoat.”

“You sound glad.”

Cabron fell silent. With a single throw, he sank two daggers into one spot on a pillar. He imagined the throwing knives entering Dramien’s eyes with a squelch. How sweet it would be to reclaim captaincy from the upstart farmhand.

“Glad?” Cabron seemed to be speaking to himself. “No. I deserve this.”

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 4 DAY 1

Retracing his journey through the Everlett Forest, Ruxian grew increasingly fond of his shapeless body. Instead of exhausting himself clambering over the obstacles, he simply drifted through, something he began to do more frequently. His inability to turn off his olfactory senses, however, meant he still suffered the stink of the grizzlies.

Just last night, Dramien and Naya had argued fervently about whether to enter the forest. The knight suggested that they circle around the most frequented southward path. Naya, on the other hand, favoured abandoning the cart to throw off their foes and take the straight path. Ruxian suspected she, like him, wanted to see the Targonian Grizzlies. Ultimately, the distant horns drove them into the woods.

Been meaning to ask, Ruxian sent a message to Naya during their brief rest. I met an old Dracon in Immortrium. Why does he only have a single horn?

“Oh, you’ve met a traitor,” said Naya, caressing her scarlet horns. “Most Dracons only have one black horn.” She smiled smugly. “I’m a rare case.”

“And does the rare case actually do anything?” chortled Dramien. “I’ve fought my share of Dracons and I think your garash mediocre at best.”

Naya glared at him and pursed her lips. “It means we’re better with magic, you dolt. What do you think stopped those sorcerers from tearing you apart?”

Dramien lifted a sceptic brow. “I’ve seen Dracons with single horns do all that and more. You –”

A tremor cut Dramien off. Leaping to his feet, the knight drew his sword. Then came a roar, so loud that it seemed to rise up from the earth itself.

“Drop your weapon!” screamed Naya, falling on all fours. “Down! Now!”

A dark mass of animated fur drew near. Almost as tall as some of the trees, it seemed more like a mountain than a beast. With its hefty frame, the forest shook with its every stride. Advancing on Ruxian, the giant bear reared up on its hind legs, bared claws longer than most swords, and roared again. It was a Targonian Grizzly.

The scent of wet fur, the fierce gaze from eyes the size of windows, and a gaping maw that could swallow elephants whole almost reduced Ruxian’s form to vapour. For an instant, his phantom heart pulsed like a war drum while his field of vision shrank to a pinhole. The titanic grizzly circled the wraith, sniffing and prodding. Ruxian flashed a myriad of colours from the muggy breath, finally settling on an ashen white.

So you were what spooked the young ones.

Ruxian froze. The bear was talking to him with telepathy! Vision slowly returning, he espied a pair of cubs, both as large as small trucks, peeking at them from behind the trees, their eyes shimmering with alarmed curiosity. Their presence jolted Naya into action, slapping the sword out of Dramien’s hands and wrestling him to the ground.

“Great Matriarch Valnaga,” cried the Dracon girl. “We are honoured by your presence. This man is no threat. He has lost his body to the Eternal Empire. We humbly beg for safe passage through your lands to escape their pursuit.”

A favoured child of the Goddess. Valnaga sat on her haunches, brushing away the cubs playfully gnawing on her paws. I haven’t seen a Dracon, much less a twin horn of fire, in centuries. She discharged a low growl that stretched on like a long sigh. More handywork of that Paerawyn, or whatever he calls himself these days.

Dramien lifted his head at the revelation. “You know His Highness?”

Know him? Valnaga waved her claws. I no longer concern myself with the affairs of men. Too much death. Too much hate. Too much sadness.

“But Great Matriarch,” Naya pressed. “Mother Blackmoon told me you predate even the Eternal Empire. Can you not spare us some wisdom to restore this man to his body?”

Valnaga reached forth and caressed Naya’s horns with her claws before turning to Ruxian. My sincere apologies, otherworldly guest. I cannot help you. Few have greater mastery over the esoteric malice than Lady Blackmoon. The giant bear rolled onto all fours. Fair warning. Blackmoon exacts a high price for her favours.

What about Paerawyn? Flashing red, Ruxian fired a question at the bear. How might we kill him? He must be punished –

You’ll find a way. Valnaga blew hot air at Ruxian that thinned his corporeal body. The searing wind and the earthy reek left him struggling to sustain his form, almost blacking out during the process. The bear matriarch then spun around and roared a muffled note, summoning the cubs to her side as if to shield them from this conversation. Beasts slay not their kin.