The Maraven Conspiracy

The Waters of Raith (I)

     Cato gazed deeply into the glowing waters.

     In distinct contrast to the plain clay bowl housing it, its pulsating greens and purples danced across the rippling surface. He reached out with his mind, past all the many cities and oceans, past the mountains and the valleys, beyond all the works of man, way out to the great yawning abyss beyond the world. Feeling the power begin to flow through him, he slowly and carefully weaved a connection between himself and the waters. He opted for a simple, fragile weaving, only linking the essential threads. The lack of reinforcement would mean that he could easily break it if necessary. He felt a faint tug as the connection was formed, but no matter how he tried to grasp it, he couldn't seem to gain a firm hold, it remained slippery and without purchase. Through the link he attempted to study the strange magiks, and almost lost the connection in surprise as he felt the sudden sensation of being observed in return. He got the unmistakable sense that it wanted something, something it was waiting for Cato to provide.

     With some trepidation Cato tried to communicate his desires as best he could, picturing various elements in his mind in an attempt to translate what he sought to an intelligence he didn't truly understand. Heretic Magic, Past, Murder, it was little to go on but somehow it seemed to work, which each new image he provided he began to feel himself gaining a stronger grasp, like a fighter beginning to take the advantage as his foe tired. Finally, he finished, hoping that what he had given was clear enough to get an answer. Then, a strong connection, much stronger than Cato was anticipating, he sought to break the link but found his fragile weaving had become solid and impenetrable. For a moment the pulsing stopped completely,and the waters were still, seeming to regard Cato with its primitive intelligence. He held his breath, and after a few moments of contemplative stillness the waters once more began to stir. The pulsing started up again,slowly and hesitantly at first, then increasing in speed until they flickered ferociously. Likewise, the waters themselves rippled, faster and faster until they roiled and crashed around the bowl in a frenzy. Cato felt his body suddenly go limp and before he could react, he was falling, deep, into the waters and then he was elsewhere.

     He gasped, like a drowning sailor washed upon the shore, the speed of the transition momentarily driving all thoughts from his mind, except the primal instinct to force air into his lungs. After several, shaky, shuddering gasps he was able to gather himself. He could feel a dull tugging in the back of his mind but for now he ignored it, focusing instead on his surroundings. He was standing out on a street, it was dark, too dark for Cato to be able to make out any details or determine if he knew the area. Directly in front of him was a door, a simple plain wooden door, despite its lack of ostentatious features it seemed to draw his eye, and he felt a strange sense of surety that behind the door lay what he sought, he reached for it and then he was somewhere else again.

     The shift was easier this time,and it quickly became apparent that he was now inside a moderately sized bedroom,the nighttime gloom broken only by the street torches faint illumination through a single window. The main furnishing was a large bed in the middle of the wooden room. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed, simple with some signs of wear but clearly well-constructed from good quality wood and with a sturdy brass lock. A set of drawers lay in the far corner of the room, like the chest it showed some signs of age but was similarly well made with simple yet elegant ornamental patterning. The bed was occupied by two bodies, one larger than the other. Both were completely still, at first appearing to be deep in slumber, but as Cato walked closer to the bed he realized that the slight rhythmic rise and fall of the bed sheets that would indicate life was absent. A third figure stood beside the bed, staring motionless at the dead bodies in the bed, then turned, graceful and controlled towards Cato. The figure was dressed head to toe in simple black clothing, black material covering her face, leaving only the eyes un-obscured. She was average height, lithely built but with an impressively compact muscularity that was apparent even under her garments. As she turned her eyes met Cato's, grey and piercing, the bags underneath them betraying a deep-set tiredness. She stopped, eyes widening in shock. Cato's breath caught in his throat, she can't be aware of my presence he reassured himself, what he was seeing must surely be events already past. Her brow furrowed, and she slowly raised her hand, reaching forward and lunged directly for him.

     Panic overcame Cato in a dizzying rush, suddenly stripped of any surety of safety he instinctively shied away from the grasping hand.Losing his balance, he found himself falling once again, this time backwards towards the floorboards. Fear gripped him, pushing any coherent thoughts from his mind.The dull tugging in the back of his mind had become a deafening cacophony,shuddering through him like discordant drumbeats. Cato closed his eyes tightly,the only things he could focus on were the roar in his mind and the pure terror gripping his heart. Then, just as suddenly as it had roared to life, the raging retreated back to a dull tug. It took several moments for Cato to raise the courage to open his eyes, when he finally managed it, still seized with primal terror, he found himself somewhere else yet again.