Season of Bloom - 29. Candlemere's Curse

New Year’s Day, the first of Abadius, brought with it freezing winter storms, and a partially frozen lake. Regongar and Valerie strained at a pair of oars in the dark, their breath billowing out of their mouths as they worked through bits of ice and water. Ten minutes of rowing became twenty as the sky lightened around them, the new year offering a dreary greeting to the settlers of the once Stolen Lands.

Lights darted around the dark ruins on the island they were aimed at, easily recognizable to those who had travelled to Elga’s hut before. The wisps were haunting this temple, and Lapis would have to find a way to purify it from the fey darkness that stained it.

Finally, the boat touched the land. Valerie jumped out of the vessel as Regongar held it in place, the fighter pulling the boat up onto dry land, beside another boat that lay abandoned.

“We’ll wait here until light comes. I have no desire to do battle in the dark,” Lapis sighed, wrapping a heavy cloak over himself.

Beside him, Khemet shivered as snow whistled through the air, the weather blown about by a stiff wind that made the temperature only plummet further. Even Ekundayo and his dog were affected by the chill in the air.

“A fire…” Lapis muttered. “Ekun, can you find some wood for us? We’re only going to be sitting around for an hour or two, but we’ll freeze without warmth.”

The ranger nodded silently, vanishing into the gloom with his dog in tow. Minutes later, he was back with an armful of relatively dry wood, the dog carrying a stick in his mouth. It didn’t take long to get everything into a decent sized campfire, and the group settled around the warmth with happy sighs, waiting out the predawn shadows.

When there was sufficient light for even the humans to see by, Lapis ordered the fire doused again. The next minute was spent with the mages whispering spells of protection and prayers of aid over the party. As soon as they were complete, the group set out again.

Almost instantly, lightning filled the ice storm, wisps flickering in and out of sight. Between Lapis and Ekundayo, the party was able to pin the wisps down with arrow fire, disrupting their invisibility enough for the dog and Khemet to rain claw and teeth down upon them. A prolonged fight followed, the group fighting their way up a large forested hill. At several points, Ekundayo took the lead, guiding them through unbroken trees. Above all else, they fought to preserve the island as it was, an ancient monument to a deity Lapis was certain was Nethys. They just needed to clean the taint that stained it from fey sacrifices first.

“You shoot well,” Ekun said during a quiet lull in their ascent.

“I was trained by a Thuvian ranger myself,” Lapis replied, brushing a tree aside. “Well… by an Osirian captain first, but Amaros filled in the gaps of my knowledge. He hunted fey in the desert, but showed me how to hunt more conventional prey.”

The ranger grunted thoughtfully, following the amurrun up a slick slope.

Suddenly, they came upon the tower, earlier than Lapis had hoped. Broken stairs led to secret halls that would remain secret, arches piled with rubble in what appeared to be an ancient laboratory, filled with shards of broken glass, and a single ruby potion.

“This isn’t a temple. It’s a wizard’s tower,” Regongar scoffed.

“What do you think temples devoted to the god of magic are?” Lapis asked, brushing aside a frozen cobweb in their path. “I haven’t seen any of the trio that came here.”

“I can feel sinister intent from the next room,” Tristian frowned, pointing toward another archway. “It is… unfocused, chaotic.”

“We best prepare well then,” Lapis replied.

He curled up by a fire, missing the warmth of his tribe, the way bodies would pile together to keep everyone protected. Kiba was alone, and even in his sleep, he felt the anxiety of his solitude.

His eyes opened slowly, though he remained where he had crawled over the past day, ever inching closer to the dying embers. A sudden snap provided even more anxiety, but the kobold’s body refused to react.

‘Kesten. Guard.’

Apsu’s voice filled his mind, the Taldane words coming almost readily to answer the Great One.

But Kiba could only answer in his own mind, sharp thoughts belying the brumation of his body. Softness fell over him, a hard face peering over him almost kindly. The guard’s hand pressed against his chest, rising and falling with Kiba’s shallow, even breath, and the kobold blinked slowly, his only communication with the outside world.

‘What do you see?’ Apsu asked.

‘Nightgown. He was asleep. Kindness for a kobold. He has a soft spot for the weak.’

The answers came almost instantly, a silent training filling him with knowledge even as he slept. Kiba had no way of knowing how long he had been asleep for. He had long lost track of how often someone would come in to change the fire that was constantly burning. As Kesten did now.

All he knew was he must sleep. His body was not ready to wake yet; spring was still not here. Eyes watched the guard silently as another set of logs were carefully placed on the fire, the embers burrowing into the fresh wood to carry the heat of the old fire, until they too ignited to shed warmth through the room.

Under the glow of the fire and the warmth of a fresh blanket, Kiba’s eyes slid closed again, and the kobold fell into a world of waking dreams, filled with a patient dragon who strove to educate a kobold for the life ahead of him.

A closed portal hung in the center of the tower, vibrant colours spreading out from a blackened center.

“It’s been used recently,” Regongar warned. “Probably will be used again. Maybe to bring more wisps for us to fight.”

Lapis nodded at the news, his eyes focused on a strange man standing before the portal. Mud splattered over him made his tattered robes look almost uniformly grey, though the amurrun could just pick out the black and white pattern of a cleric of Nethys. The man swayed back and forth, as though dancing to a silent music. At their approach, his eyes snapped open, steely grey tainted with a madness inside.

“Trespassers. Are you so eager to die?” he hissed.

“Peace. We only wish to understand what is happening here,” Lapis said, setting his bow down as a gesture of peace.

“The Gatekeeper… I bring Nethys back to the world. Long has he whispered his desire to me, directing me to this place. That stupid bard brought me here, and I will finally do as my god commands, for I am his harbinger, the Two-Faced Rismel!”

“Where are the others you came with?” Lapis questioned.

“They did not pass his trials. I alone could hear his voice. He chose me, and the others… they’re gone now. One gave up halfway. I have no clue as to his fate. The other kept talking and talking, about how knowledge must be shared with everyone. He did not understand; knowledge must be earned, for that is the way of Nethys. So I silenced him.”

“You believe the god of magic waits on the other side of this portal?” Regongar smirked. “The god of magic, who can’t simply magic himself into the world. He has to rely on others to work his magic for him.”

The half orc laughed, ignoring the clenched hands of the cleric. Blood began dripping from Rismel, his nails cutting his skin open in his rage.

“One more word, insect, and you shall witness Nethys for yourself.”

“Rismel, I don’t believe you are in your right mind,” Lapis said quietly.

“You don’t know anything about me! He whispers to me, tells me I am the only one who can release him back to the world! How dare you question a Chosen One of the All-Seeing Eye?!”

“Exactly. Nethys is all seeing, all knowing. Rarely does he speak to anyone,” Lapis pointed out. “Even the Ruby Prince has to decipher his meanings, and he’s a god himself. Why would you be the one Nethys breaks millennia of silence to speak to personally? How long are you going to lie to yourself Rismel?”

“I… but I’m the Chosen One…” the man protested.

“Then I will find proof that you are wrong.”

Lapis motioned for the others to follow him from the temple proper, the group descending back to the ground.

“You speak as though you know the Ruby Prince well,” Ekundayo frowned at him.

“I performed for him once, though he did not know me,” Lapis said quietly. “He is a magnificent being. We need to find Rismel’s companions.”

Ekundayo shook his head, silently passing a dirty book to Lapis. The amurrun frowned at the ranger, but opened the journal, caked with dried blood and pus. His eyes slowly followed the last page, lips stumbling as he read the unfamiliar script. Finally, a hand settled on his shoulder, Valerie taking the journal from him.

“They left me alone. Nethys has turned the dark face toward Rismel, and he is lost to us. Bryt promised to find aid, but he has been gone too long. I only pray he has escaped unharmed. My wound festers. I will not escape. They are all around me; I know I am not delirious. I can see their lights, hear their laughs. These are my last words. Erastil take my soul.”

A chill ran through Lapis that had nothing to do with the freezing snow.

“So you’re telling me that we came back down this hill to find the journal of a man who couldn’t get up the hill, only to have the journal on us the whole time?” Regongar spat. “And now we have to get back up the hill to deal with a madman. Wonderful.”

“Did you notice anything about the body you found this on?” Lapis asked, ignoring the half orc.

“Surrounded by wisps,” Ekun muttered, shaking his head. “Grabbed book and snuck out.”

“You did good,” the amurrun sighed.

“Does not feel good to leave fellow ranger for wisps’ pleasure.”

“Before we leave here, we will make sure he is properly buried,” Lapis promised. “But first, let’s get back up this hill. We need to help this man find his god again.”