Descending the narrow switchback staircase he found Farseeth standing at the back door of the inn, secluding herself in the long shadows cast by the dwindling fire in the hearth beyond the main ale-serving area. The innkeeper himself was sitting dead asleep at the bar there, a harkbus nearly as long as he was tall resting across his lap, its fuse smoldering faintly in the dimness beneath the bar counter. Apparently waiting for demons to break down his front door had been exhausting. He was snoring almost loud enough for it to be mistaken as one of the occasional thunderclaps outside.
The Taskmaster kept her voice low though Drystan guessed that if the thunder didn't wake the man, their quiet conversation at the back door would likewise go wholly unnoticed. “You are both certain that the man you found did not have a demon's influence?”
“Quite certain,” Drystan affirmed, leaning against the cupboard across the doorway from the woman. “He kept no schaden, there were no inscribed gates, and all his notes we caught sight of were typical of those who practice the necromancies.”
Pursing her lips into a thin line the woman finally let the worry she felt be seen on her face. “A week ago Taskmaster Sherer lost contact with Senior Inferi Reinhold and his scouting unit in the Cormallen Range. I've tasked everyone I have free to attempt re-contacting Lauthen or one of the others since we got word, but either they are all too severely wounded to spare the energy or they are dead.”
Drystan had only met Archer Reinhold three or four times in his life and had never spoken much with the man or his revenant, but he knew they had been caught up in the massacre of Edelglen which had brought Tiernan into the care of the church as an orphan. From what he had seen of the pair it wasn't like them to stay out of contact with Antenox for more than a day or so, nor be so far west of Wardenfell. In fact Archer mainly operated in and around Warshaven and the southern Oribian ports—he had been born and raised there and always seemed to prefer the company of the corsairs to anyone on dry land.
“Why are we sending people into the Cormallen Range? That's at least hundred leagues beyond any remotely civilized part of the Oribian.”
“The Hesperi in the south were scrying and they detected three emerging foci of powerful magic not of Eral,” replied Farseeth. “One was determined to be Akkali, and given what she passed on to you when you met, we were able to determine the second as being the combined power of three different Oratios within Harenholl, all of whom we eliminated earlier this year. The last focus remained undefined, but it was emerging deep within the western wilds. The Grandmaster himself tasked Reinhold with sourcing it and Sherer sent his Primary with him.”
“And you think the crazy corpse-thief we found in the warrens is related to whatever happened to him?”
“Not directly, but your friend's notes are well-organized and detailed.” The Taskmaster paused as the innkeeper shifted in his seat and waited until she was certain he was still sleeping before continuing on. “The man raves of death coming from the setting sun. He is so fervent in his belief he is building an army of tailored homunculi to defend his Empire regardless of the fact that it has made him a fugitive to be executed upon sight.”
“Someone somewhere would have heard of one of the Oratios making it out that far alive. What did Archer's last report say?”
“At the very last contact we had with Reinhold, Lauthen was sensing a powerful undercurrent of Pandemonium magic. It wasn't like an inscribed gate, and it was no longer present within this realm itself, but the taint of it was there.” She thumbed at the bottom of her chin and shook her head. “The way he described it, it sounds a lot like what Samalyn was sensing from Nocis' laboratory. If it is, this is the first time in more than a century one has taken an active interest in Eral, not just given mad mages delusions of immortality by whispering ways to get to the City.”
Drystan's skin prickled at mention of the man who had butchered so many innocent people in the name of his research. “Is anyone going after him?”
Farseeth stabbed him in the chest with a stiff index finger. “Tend to whatever you need here. Then I'm sending you to Whiteshire to meet up with Senior Inferi Laudine, her squires, and anyone else she and the Taskmaster there can muster up from Herenveil and the Northwestern Dominion by the time you arrive.”
“You're sending us to Wardenfell?” Drystan scowled. “There's no one else? There's a madman running around here constructing people puppets, not to mention the one we never caught from Gendelheim doing Junan knows what further south with all the bodies he's been digging up.”
“If Archer is truly dead out there then we've lost four Inferi and at least that many pact-ready squires,” said the Taskmaster in a sharp tone, anger snaking into her words. That she used the Inferi's given name belied just how worried she was; since she had become Taskmaster she always used her subordinate's surnames to insulate herself in case she had to knowingly send one of them off to their deaths. “I'd happily tell you to keep on this task to rebuild some goodwill with the church up here. But we all know homunculi are plainly the purview of the Inquisition and we can't waste any more time on it if there's a focus of massive, unsourced City magic developing out there—especially if it ends up being a Malefor.”
Grinding his teeth the man knew she was right. Arathron had done everything he could to glean from the madman whether or not he was using a demonic shortcut to have attained such mastery of life manipulation but plainly he was a magical savant adept at necromancy. It was an uncommon thing for one not born of a lengthy Oratio bloodline, but it wasn't overly rare. He was in the unfortunate situation of having the spirit of an equally mad woman present within him, though whether by choice or not it was none of Antenox's concern. Whatever was converging out in the western wilderness had the Grandmaster so on edge as to send the man most of the order thought would be his successor out to seek the heart of it. Finding out what had become of Archer and what he was searching for had to take priority over a petty madman no mater how atrocious his crimes against Eral were.
The things an unleashed demon could do would make all the homunculi in the world look like an assembly of little more than rag dolls in comparison. And if the worst had come to pass, and any of the Inferi in Archer's company had fallen prey to their own fears and lost their grip on their minds, an unshackled Pandemonium demon running around snacking on people was nothing compared to the carnage a single Exile could cause in its bloodlust.
“Nighttyr, I realize that you think of this Inquisitor Brennan as your family,” said Farseeth in a much more sympathetic voice. “If you haven't already told him, I expect you will before you go. Just be certain he keeps mum and does not follow you. Laudine is the only martial Hesperi north of the Wall and she violates more than a few tenets of canon law. They must never meet.”
The Inferi nodded. “I'll head out as soon as I've settled things with Tier.”
Farseeth clapped him on the shoulder, then pulled her hood up. “I am leaving for Wessinberg as soon as the rain lets up. If I do not hear tell of your departure within a week I'll ride back down here and beat your face in.”
He grinned at her. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Don't call us ma'am, you jackass,” she snarled as she slipped out of the tavern into the sheeting rain. "We're not that old yet."
He leaned forward and caught the door before it could slam shut and rouse the innkeeper. Re-setting the locks that Farseeth had slipped to get in he slipped past the man as he let out a loud snort and shifted slightly on his stool.
Ascending the stairs quickly, Drystan stood outside the door to his room for a long while after he heard Farseeth's horse ride off, wondering what he was going to do to smooth things over with his friend. He couldn't believe how idiotic he had been. Once he had seen Tiernan again in the Ovan's keep he thought they could pick up right where they had left off, join forces and rid the world of evil just like they had always planned to do as kids. Watching the man's reaction to telling him what he had done, how he had trespassed within the City and now shared his body with a revenant, hadn't been anything like he had expected it to be.
Tiernan thought what he had done was foul and unholy; it was written all over his face even though he kept his voice and his questions absolutely rational as was his nature. Why had he expected any other reaction from a man who had watched his entire village massacred and turned into a killing field by a psychotic Oratio? To him, pulling a spirit out of the City was probably exactly the same kind of foul act, just on an infinitely smaller scale.
Now he was going to have to leave. Not only leave, but undertake a journey out into the unmapped expanses of the western forests searching for something that had likely killed an Inferi a good forty years his senior who was reputed to be just as murderously pragmatic as Akkali was.
He was fairly certain that Tiernan would never speak to him again even if he did survive the trip.
I wonder if this is how Coord ended up feeling, he mused silently, staring at the beaten cast-iron door latch that kept the room firmly isolated from the hallway. Akkali had inspected all the innkeeper's rooms and picked this particular one because of its quick exit right out onto the roof and into the stables below. That it smelled like horse shit whenever the window was open was something they had always agreed to ignore in favor of being able to flee at a moment's notice.
Would you rather have not taken the chance? inquired Arathron, curious as to his uncharacteristic hesitation. You nor I were ever the sort of people to live our lives in solitude. 'Tis not in either of our natures.
Reaching out a hand he rapped on the door softly so as not to rouse anyone else on the floor. Maybe not, but I'm still an idiot thinking he'd be happy to see me again.
'Tis Akkali who is more the one to say such a thing.
Tiernan opened the door to let him in, though he said nothing and went back to sitting in front of the window and flipping deliberately through the book. Surprisingly enough Akkali hadn't killed him while he had been away. She was still laying in her bed, petting the shaggy head of her stray dog, staring out the window at the downpour with an inscrutable look on her face. He had no need to guess exactly what was going through her mind. The three of them had no idea where the madman had taken off to, and she worried that he would find his way to her clan where they had set up camp in the Shalewarrens. That she had remained in his company for this long showed just how equally worried she was about them now that Tiernan knew about Arathron.
He hated that he was going to have to walk out on her too. He owed the Enkiri his life a few times over and now that he thought about it she had never really asked him for anything at all. Not anything of significance, at any rate. Telling him to bring her a specific set of books from an Antenox library didn't quite equate to turning a twenty-man ambush into a one-sided slaughter in their favor due to her pessimism never allowing her to take anyone at their word. Putting up with weeks of being berated and belittled for being so incredibly asinine as to walk blindly into the trap in the first place didn't even the scales either.
Akkali glanced over at him, the right side of her head from crown to jaw a mottled collage of purple, yellow, and bandage. He had never seen her physically hurt so badly and the fact that it was at least partially his fault started to gnaw at him with guilt. Apparently deciding against teasing him she instead asked, “What happened?”
“Archer went missing in the Cormallen Range. No one has heard from him or the Inferi he was with in a week.”
The Enkiri's eyes widened briefly in shock before she blinked it away and slowly shook her head. “Might want to wait until the rain lets up.” She slung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “I'll hex some wards for you.”
“Akkali, just rest,” said Drystan as he sat down on the edge of his own bed and waved his hand at her to try and convince her to stay put. “Tier promises he's not going to do anything while you are out so please, for Arathron and I, get some sleep.”
She shot a mocking smile towards where Tiernan had settled himself, one leg crossed over the other with the book purposely hiding his face from the rest of the room. “But if I don't leave the room Ser Bashful there is going to spend the whole night in sopping wet clothes because he refuses to let a girl he's not married to see him naked.”
“For the love of Saint Armette,” growled the man, slamming the book down on a dry spot on the table and rising to his feet, leering at her with absolute loathing. He pulled loose the ties that kept his jack of plate fastened, then set the armor against the wall and proceeded to likewise divest himself of his greaves, boots, socks, tunic and trousers, stacking everything on the chair behind him. Standing in nothing but his off-white breeches Drystan was surprised to see the man had gotten a few more scars across his shoulders and sides than he remembered, though most of them were neatly healed together and very faint, no doubt a result of his own medicinal skill.
The Inquisitor braced his hands on his sides and glared at the Enkiri. “Satisfied? Or would you like to see me try and fit into whatever spare clothing Drystan still has?”
She simply pointed to his clothes, then held her hand out to him palm-up and flexed her fingers in and out. The man draped his wet garments over her arm and she proceeded to lay them out on the floor piece by piece. Sitting with her back against the wall in front of them she splayed her hands on the floor and closed her eyes.
The markings on her exposed hands glimmered, then flowed out into the floorboards with a dull green light almost like that of a distant firefly. Tracing its way along the grain of the wood it flowed outward and surrounded the man's clothes, small tendrils sprouting up in random places like blades of grass before vanishing in a wisp of steam. Tiernan watched the spell work in silence, evergreen eyes flicking from spot to spot as he memorized every detail of it he could.
When Akkali took her hands off the floor and pulled them back inside her sleeves she pressed her back against the wall and said, “You leave without saying goodbye and I'll hunt you down, Drys.”
Grinning despite himself he replied, “Fine. I'll stick around until you wake up.”
She made a noncommittal chuff and lowered her chin to her chest with closed eyes. “Keep your man-bickering to a whisper.”
“All right.”