Yeeeahhh, my focus tanked recently. And the line about "what was he supposed to say" that comes up in this chapter? That was basically my brain, on that scene especially.
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Voltar wanted to show him something. Ingressus was sure of that. He didn't know why else the staff would've kept showing him a distinct memory of walking along a specific path, one he could only assume was in Voltaria. There was somewhere Voltar wanted him to go. He knew the trail his predecessor had followed, could see it in his mind's eye. Past the mossy boulders that housed a spring, under the tree that split into a Y-shape, along the dry riverbed and over the patch of exposed granite, and then straight until he hit the shallow cave where the ancient Voltaris had done– whatever they did. Voltar hadn't shown him that part. It had just been insistent on showing him the path he was to follow.
The problem was, that path and the landmarks he'd seen could've been anywhere in Voltaria. It was a big province, covering a lot of space. On the one hand that was a good thing: there would be plenty of space for his clan and any non-mercenaries. On the other, that made finding a place by looking for specific landmarks no small task.
Ingressus leaned against a birch at the edge of the forest, looking over the map he'd gotten back in Stoneford. It wasn't a map of Voltaria itself; he doubted there was much demand for that with how empty the province was. But it was the best he could find in the absence of such a thing. The map covered the trading routes north of Conchord, stretching out from the district into Senadria, Kaltaria, and other surrounding lands. But that scope put Voltaria conveniently in the middle, and it at least marked the few trade roads that ran through the otherwise sparsely-detailed province. The rest, Ingressus had done his best to fill in as he wandered. He had marked farms, possible camp locations, (village locations, that's what they'd be, when his people could have permanent homes again), and had done his best to trace out the paths he'd taken. So far, he'd come across nothing that resembled the landmarks in Voltar's memory.
Ingressus tried to think of other clues from the vision. Based on the shadows of the trees, his predecessor had been walking roughly east at the start of the vision. The path had then angled slightly north, and he had heard the soft sound of water as the past Master had approached the cave. It didn't have the quiet roar of a distant river; it was more like a trickling stream. There was a waterway somewhere near the place Voltar wanted him to go. The cave was in a forest but it was near the edge of one; the split tree stood alone out in a grassland. That landmark wouldn't be hard to see– assuming it was still there. The memory was at least six centuries old, much could've changed since then.
Ingressus kept wandering. He followed the treelines, keeping his ears pricked for the sound of running water. He'd stowed the helmet away after leaving Stoneford, and his sore ears were thrilled for the mercy from the hard, confining metal. He did find several small creeks, but wandering the woods within earshot of the creeks didn't turn up any caves he recognized.
The day wore on. The sun inched towards the west behind the patchy clouds, dropping slowly down from its zenith. Thicker clouds drew in, and soon a drizzle was pattering down from the sky.
Ingressus took shelter from the rain in an alcove under a pair of boulders. There was more room than he'd expected and he scooted further back from the opening, then summoned Voltar again. Maybe he could pick up some more details from the memory to help him track down the cave. He leaned against the stone, holding the staff in his gloved hands.
But no memory arose this time, no visions playing in his mind's eye. Ingressus frowned behind his mask, looking curiously at the staff. Voltar had been showing him the vision over and over for the past two days, why the sudden silence?
Ingressus looked around. It couldn't be that this was the cave. The one in the vision had been set into a hillside, meanwhile these boulders were freestanding. The vision's cave had also been a good deal larger, big enough for a person to live in in relative comfort. Surely even six centuries couldn't make an entire hill disappear. And the boulders didn't have the parallel ridges that were distinctive of Supporospikes. No, whatever had changed Voltar's priorities had to be something else. As Ingressus had learned, Voltar wasn't omniscient. It knew what it or its wielders had witnessed, and maybe had the occasional insight beyond that. Magic was rarely easily definable. But whatever had changed, odds were it involved something Ingressus had seen or somewhere he had been in the past few hours
Ingressus looked back down at the staff. "What are you trying to tell me?"
Voltar did not answer. Ingressus sat back, his gaze idly wandering the alcove he sheltered in. If this wasn't the place Voltar had wanted him to find, then what could've changed its mind? What could it suddenly consider more important? The staff still felt just as... content? Satisfied? Hopeful? As it had since he had come to Voltaria, if not more so. It could sense its home soil, and even if its people were still lost to it, Voltar still recognized the place they were supposed to be.
Ingressus's gaze wandered past a patch of dirt near the back of the alcove, but then he re-focused. Something about it... it was different from the rest. It was subtle, but...
Ingressus scooted over to look more closely. The dirt there was unusually smoothed-out, as though someone had dug it up, then tried to pat it down again. Ingressus was reminded of when he used to help Kittrian with her garden: this was what the dirt would look like when she transplanted something and patted the earth down around it. But what kind of plant could grow somewhere like this, deprived of sunlight and rainwater? None that Ingressus knew of. Maybe someone had buried something.
His curiosity piqued, Ingressus dispelled Voltar again and dug his fingers into the dirt. He had only clawed away a thin layer of dirt before the color changed, the dirt becoming tinged with a dull, ashy gray. Ingressus lifted a hand to his face, pulling down his mask to sniff at the substance. It was ash. Someone had built a fire here– a small one, judging by the size of the smoothed-over dirt– then buried the ashes.
The presence of the ash itself wasn't too strange. Maybe a traveler had been caught in the rain, like Ingressus was, and sheltered in this alcove and decided to cook themselves a meal while they waited. Or maybe someone had been caught out at night and sheltered here. No, what was strange was the way the fire had been buried. It wasn't just a few handfuls of dirt, casually thrown on top to smother the embers. The ashes had been mixed with dirt, then thrown into a hole and buried with clear intent to hide that it had ever been there. Ingressus would never have even noticed it if he hadn't been sheltering in this alcove, too, and even then he had almost missed it. Whoever had been here had clearly wanted to stay hidden, and clearly knew how to. The boulders hid the fire from view from nearly every angle, and no one would see the remains unless they had been right on top of them. It was exactly what Ingressus would've done...
Ingressus went still. The idea he didn't quite dare to consider tugged at his mind, nudging at his thoughts like Dusk when the cat wanted attention. But– no, it couldn't be, what were the odds? Out of everywhere in Ardonia, even everywhere within a reasonable distance from the Barrier Mountains– what were the odds that it was a Voltaris who had made this fire? Yes, he wanted it to be, but what were the odds? The one time he ever left Ataraxia, and there happened to be a supply run or an attack party or something else passing by the very same place he was? Astronomical. There were so many other explanations: the Defiant Legion, a lost wanderer who wanted to avoid them– it was just because he wanted it to be his clan, that didn't mean it was true—
But the Defiant Legion ran these lands. Why would they have to hide? And to put the fire in the very back of the alcove meant that you considered discovery a worse fate than the monsters the light would deter. Would a typical traveler think that way?
And then there was Voltar. Ingressus had wondered what would've made its priorities shift– what could be more important to a Master staff than the presence of its long-lost clan? If Voltar knew, somehow, that the Ardoni it oversaw had been present here, then that would explain why whatever had been in the vision's cave had suddenly become a second priority. The buried ashes still looked fresh; their color hadn't leached away into the soil. If it was true– if his clan was here– Ingressus had to try to find them.
Ingressus sat back, still staring at the ashes he'd unearthed. Maybe he was just getting his hopes up. Maybe he was so desperate for news of his people that his mind had just latched onto this answer. Maybe this quest would just end in disappointment. But he couldn't let it go. He had to know.
There was one last thing he could try. Ingressus pulled off his gloves and pressed a bare hand into the dirt, working his fingers into the soil. This magic was meant to be used on snow– his clan had learned it directly from the Glacians, and there was no shortage of that in the mountains. But dirt acted similarly in some ways... and with the damp ground outside, well– water was just melted snow, right? Magic could sometimes work on technicalities, he remembered Carolin saying that once. And if her stone-shaping magic could deal with the ice on frozen cliffsides, then why couldn't magic meant for snow work on dirt, too? Now if he could just remember...
Ingressus dug his fingers into the dirt, pulling a fistful of soil out of the ground. The indentation that was left was smaller and messier than snow would be, but, well, might as well try anyway. He traced a circle in the dirt around the hole, as smooth and round as he could make it. Then four short marks leading inwards from the circle at each of the cardinal directions, the northern one extending outside the circle, lined up with his compass. Glacian magic needed to be really precise. And then... which one was it? The Hunter, or the Goat? Did he need to symbolize the pursuer, or the thing being pursued?
Ingressus was pretty sure that the Hunter constellation lay further north in the sky than the Goat, meaning the Glacians would be more conscious of it. So he drew out the Hunter's stars under the southern edge of the circle. Then he placed the dirt back in the hole and pressed it back down, smoothing out the surface until the hole he'd dug had vanished.
Much of Glacian magic tied back to the stars or constellations. They worked like an alphabet for the magic, a set of symbols that gave direction to the power being channeled. It told the magic what you needed– but only if it was drawn just right. Ingressus glanced around the dirt floor of the alcove, waiting to see if the magic would do anything. This had been finicky for him whenever he'd tried it back in the mountains– the pattern would be lopsided, or out of alignment with the compass directions, or off-center. But he had managed it before. And as he watched he saw the dirt shift just subtly, compacting itself down into the imprints it had once held. It certainly wasn't as obvious as it was with snow but Ingressus could make out a flattened area against one wall, what looked like the edge of a handprint, knee marks by the remains of the fire, and... there. A clear footprint. Barefoot, slightly too large for a Human or Felina. An Ardoni print.
It could be the Sendaris from yesterday, Ingressus thought. They could've been hiding from the Defiant Legion. It isn't necessarily Voltaris that were here.
But the two Sendaris hadn't had the air of those who lived in fear. Sylvan hadn't batted an eye at encountering a stranger in the woods, and Fen had been suspicious but not immediately defensive. They had reacted to him as those who'd had the luxury in the past of believing the best of strangers. Maybe they could've had cause to hide their presence, but to do it this well? With this much skill?
It wasn't them, Ingressus thought. My people were here. And not too long ago.
There was still a part of him that feared he was only getting his hopes up. That he was seeing what he wanted to see. But... he had to know. He had to at least try.
Ingressus stepped out of the alcove, into the light drizzle that still pattered down from the sky. There were more of the faint footprints near the mouth of the cave, at least two different Ardoni, he thought– Nether, he was out of practice at tracking. But the ones leading away pointed to the west, off into the forest.
Ingressus lingered only to wipe away the sigil and cover the ashes again. The dirt relaxed again, hiding the footprints the magic had revealed. And with equal parts hope and apprehension, Ingressus set out in search of his people.
It wasn't a fast or easy quest. His people knew how to hide; it was how they had survived so long. They knew to avoid damp sand or mud, to keep from brushing against plants and breaking twigs. Ingressus had to guess at their motives as much as look for visible signs of their presence: where would I go from here if I were on a supply run? Which way would I go? He traced the tracking sigil into the ground over and over, summoned Voltar in the hopes that the staff could guide him somehow. It was slow, and painstaking, but he pressed on through the trees and meadows as the rain ceased and the clouds parted, as the shadows grew and the sun sank lower in the west. He would find just a fragment of a footprint, a strand of silvery hair snagged on a twig, a faint smear of mud on a stone by the riverbank. They weren't in a hurry, they weren't desperate. If they were being chased, then those fragments of a trail would be either nonexistent or too obvious to miss– there would either be a determined effort to avoid leaving a trail, or pursuit would be too close behind for that to matter.
The sun was descending towards the horizon as the river the trail had followed widened into a floodplain, its waters spilling over its banks and spreading out among the trees. Ingressus hesitated at the edge of the plain, looking out over the landscape. He had maybe another hour before nightfall– he could turn back, go back to Stoneford for the night and pick up his search again in the morning. Or he could press on, keep following the scraps of a trail for however far it led. The skies had cleared from the afternoon rain and the moon was approaching its full phase– even with nightfall Ingressus would still be able to see fairly well.
Ah, who was he kidding. Ingressus walked out into the floodplain.
The new environment was low and flat, with soft, dark earth coated with moss and ferns. The tree trunks near were dark with moss and sediment near the base, showing a distinct high-water mark from past floods. The sound of croaking frogs echoed back and forth across the forest, the only sound beside the rustling of wind and the occasional splash. Knobbly stalagmites of wood rose up from the dirt across the forest– Ingressus assumed they were either weird roots or weirder saplings.
Just because the dirt was softer in the floodplains didn't make finding footprints any easier. Just as with snow, there were ways to disguise your footprints or avoid leaving them altogether. Ingressus stuck to the slightly higher, drier patches of land in the floodplain, scouring the area for suspicious smears of mud or unusually flattened patches of leaves. More than once he had to backtrack when he hit a dead end of the dry land, where the ground turned into thick mud in all directions that no Voltaris with a survival instinct would ever venture across.
Ingressus kept walking, even as the sun continued to sink into the west and the floodplains were striped with shadow and golden light. Logically, he should turn around. It would be dark by the time he made it to Stoneford– he would already be risking hungry undead or territorial creepers or spiders. Not to mention that Galleous would start to worry if he was gone for too long. But as he studied a fallen log that stretched across the water, he spotted a smear of mud, repeating in fading intervals across what was left of the bark. Footprints, like he'd followed before. As Ingressus brushed a finger against the mud, a clump of the dark sod stuck to his hand. He studied it, then pulled off the glove and touched his bare hand to the mud. He'd been right. It was still wet. This was recent. He was close.
Ingressus jumped onto the log, running across it and nearly slipping when those Nether-blasted boots lost their grip on the wood. But he managed to avoid falling into the water, and made the leap to the next patch of dry ground. He looked around, a wild kind of desperation rising in him. It was like the restless energy of Mobilium but this was all him, every moment in these twelve years that he'd missed his clan, the loneliness and homesickness of looking around and seeing only blue or yellow or green or purple in the markings that surrounded him, every color but his own. He was close, so much closer to his clan than he'd been in years. He prayed to whatever gods might listen or care that he was right, that the hopes he could no longer keep under control hadn't been raised for naught as he searched for any glimpse of red through the trees.
They have to be here. It has to be them. Voltaris.
He wanted to know so badly, to hear news of his clan that wasn't garbled and distorted by being passed along between at least three enemy Ardoni before reaching him. He needed to know how his people fared in the struggle against the elements, the raiders, and with an absent Master. He'd wondered before, countless times, but the need for the knowledge was so much stronger now that it was actually within reach. It drove him on like a compass pointing north and he walked on along the rain-softened earth, scanning for clues in the last rays of sunlight. He wanted to call out, to cry where are you? in the hopes of an answer. But he knew no answer would come, because no Voltaris would ever respond to a stranger's call. So he walked on, listening, searching for a scarlet glow amid the dusk.
The snap of a twig made his ears prick under his hood and he spun, scanning the twilight for the source with as much hope as instinctive alarm. He saw a distant sapling swaying in the undergrowth, rustling without a breeze. Someone– or at the very least, something– had disturbed it.
Ingressus crept towards the motion, the anticipation not quite overshadowing his caution. This place was far isolated– if it was a sentient being that had disturbed the twig, it could be his clan, or it could be someone else that he wouldn't want to meet. He needed to be sure before revealing himself. He could hear voices, indistinct but not hushed, the speakers hidden behind the ripped-up roots of a fallen tree. His ears twitched, trying to make out the words.
"... down from Kaltaria," one voice was saying. "You'd think they'd have accomplished more by now."
A second voice snorted in response. "The one way they might be useful, and they can't even manage that. One would think they didn't even care."
Ingressus could practically hear the eye roll that accompanied the next reply. "Songs, whatever gave you that idea?"
Songs. They were Ardoni. Ingressus lingered just behind the roots, glancing around the edge with bated breath.
And there it was. Red. Bright scarlet and pale crimson, half-hidden by the cloaks the two wore but clear as day to Ingressus's eyes. They were his clan, beyond any shadow of a doubt.
Ingressus rested a hand on a root, steadying himself as a wave of emotion engulfed him. It had been so long. Time and acceptance of his fate had dulled the ache from a piercing shard into a dull lump, but now it felt as though the smooth river stone had become a shard of flint once more. They were right there. All he had to do was walk out and speak.
And then a pair of hands grabbed him from behind and slung him around the roots, shoving him into the open. Ingressus spun but faltered in summoning his sword when he saw the crimson light cascading down his attacker's side. He heard a voice utter "you were right!" from behind him and darted aside, the cursing in his head matching that from the Voltaris who'd just whipped out a pair of daggers. They'd realized he was tracking them, they thought he was an enemy– some assassin or mercenary pursuing them. A sword slashed down at him and scrambled out of reach, hands still empty because he wouldn't fight back, he wouldn't raise a blade to his own clan!
A spear stabbed at him and he leaped away, his Song humming around him as he vaulted over the stunned Voltaris's head. He heard the cry of "Ardoni!" and the anger and fear and all the kill-or-be-killed connotations that single word carried to his clan, directed at him in their ignorance. Ingressus landed and spun to face the three, ripping off his mask and hood as he summoned Voltar to his hand.
"Stop!"
They did. Completely stopped, brought to paralysis by utter shock. The oldest still held his greatsword high despite the weapon's weight, the strike arrested at its apex. The spear-bearer's eyes were as wide as the moon as she stared at him, the tip of her weapon hovering just above the soil. The third stumbled to a halt, his twin daggers still poised to attack but all the intent gone from his red eyes as he stared at Voltar, still held out in defense and declaration in front of Ingressus.
He wondered what his clan had thought when they learned his father had been killed. Had they believed the raiders had stolen Voltar as a spoil of war? Had they searched for survivors around the ruins of the camp, in the hopes that Dominus had been able to pass on his mantle? When in all those following years had they realized that Voltar was lost to them? When had they given up looking, forced to only count on fate for its return? From their shock, it clearly hadn't been recent.
Ingressus lowered the staff, relaxing his defensive stance. The motion broke the spell and the others lowered their weapons as well. They still stared at him, though, interspersed with scattered glances at one another as though to confirm they were all seeing the same thing.
Well, he'd found them. Now what the Nether was he supposed to say?
You're their Master. Just say something.
But the spear-bearer beat him to it. "Who... who are you?"
Ingressus pressed a hand to his chest, over his concealed markings. "Ingressus. Son of Master Dominus."
There were sounds of surprise from the older two, but the youngest just stared at him. "You survived the raid on his camp?"
Ingressus nodded. "Were there others?"
The silence answered the question on its own, until the eldest shook his head. "We found none. I'm sorry."
Ingressus lowered his gaze. He had known there would be no mercy from the raiders. He had mourned them all, had carved, painted, and then lit the graves of all of those in his camp. But there had still been a deep, hidden part of him that had still held on to hope that there might have been some, even just one, to escape the attack, to flee to safety.
But no. They were gone. He had done all he could to honor them. His duty was now to those who remained. He lifted his eyes again, looking over the three Voltaris before him.
"Who are you?"
The spear-wielder tapped her chest. "I am Errai." She gestured to the elder and younger in turn. "These are Shidar and Avior."
Ingressus inclined his head. "I'm glad to meet you."
"Glad" didn't cover it. It wasn't nearly powerful enough, didn't express anything near what he felt. The sight of living, red markings, outside of dreams or memories for the first time in over a decade– it was so much more than simply being glad. There was relief, hope, gratitude towards whatever power had brought their paths together, kinship that he'd lacked for so long, desperation that he could be who they needed him to be and that his choice to stay separate would prove to be the right one. He tried to keep himself composed but still felt it seeping into his voice, saying more than what those simple words could ever convey.
"How are you here?" Avior burst out. "We thought Voltar was lost. We thought our Master was dead, but– but here you are! How?"
"I was blown into the ocean during the raid," Ingressus said. "I was rescued by a sympathetic outsider, but the Guardians had taken Voltar while I was unconscious for reasons I still don't know. It was only recently that they returned it to me."
Shidar furrowed his brow, taking in the news. "Why would the Guardians interfere with us? They've never cared for anything in Ardonia except patrolling their sacred spaces."
Ingressus shook his head. "I don't know. I've tried to find out, but they have yet to give me an answer."
It was true, he had tried. The night after the Guardians had returned the weapons Ingressus had left his and Achillean's campsite, walking out to the inlet and calling out in the hopes the Guardians would answer his question of why? But that time, and every other time since, the Guardians had given him only a passing glance at best. Whatever their motive had been, the aquatic beings were keeping it to themselves.
"Strange..." Shidar muttered, rubbing at his chin.
It was. But Ingressus had a question of his own.
"How fares our clan?"
He hoped he was right in his belief that nothing had changed. News would find its way even to Ataraxia eventually, and the likes of Selarin wouldn't have hesitated to hurl it in his face if the Voltaris had met with a drastic misfortune, or to accuse him if they had dealt a strong blow against the other clans. He had heard about the assassination of a former Kaltaris Champion many years before after seeing Nereis give him the side-eye for days– as well as how two Voltaris had been killed in the attempt.
"As well as one can expect," Errai answered. "We are surviving. Algorab's and Hadar's camps were lost to raiders. Miatrix's was attacked as well, though the Glacians offered temporary refuge to those who managed to escape, because they had owed a debt to her." She huffed. "Though they made it clear that that aid was a one-time deal. They won't be risking the wrath of the clans for our sake on a regular basis."
The Glacians were a unique case for the Voltaris. They had been– if not welcoming, then at least unconcerned when the Voltaris had first fled to their lands, and these days were the only beings outside of the clan that the Voltaris didn't need to fear. The Voltaris would trade with them when their paths crossed, and there had been occasions when the northern-dwellers would aid an injured or lost Voltaris that they came across. But the Glacians did not concern themselves with the conflicts of the rest of the world. Ingressus wouldn't have expected them to open their doors to those pursued by the raiders.
"How many were they able to save?"
"About a dozen, I'd heard." Errai said. "I'm not certain."
Ingressus nodded seriously. "A rare blessing."
"We may need all we can get," Shidar said, his face grave. "The raids came late this past season, enough that we almost believed they might not come at all. We don't know what the clans could be planning."
Ingressus looked over the three. Avior shifted nervously on his feet at Shidar's words, chewing his lip in worry. Shidar's arms were folded, his expression taut, and Errai looked as though she were already counting the bodies to come.
Ingressus was once again reminded of just how much easier his life in Ataraxia had been than the life his clan endured in the mountains. A delayed raid should have been a reprieve, a stroke of luck for a clan that was constantly short of it. But the Voltaris couldn't afford to be so optimistic. Any change in the actions of the other clans could only be a sign of something worse to come, because there was no chance that they could ever have good intentions. Ingressus knew that suspicion, born of survival and centuries of raids and war. But it had faded in him after all this time, enough to give him hope instead of dread.
"It may not have to do with us," he said. "The Masters are aware now of the corruption the Prime Songs cause, and one of them, at least, is taking that danger seriously. Aegus Nestoris has been an opponent of the tournaments for a long time, and I know that since learning of the corruption he has only redoubled his efforts against them. The delay may be thanks to him."
Avior arched a brow. "An enemy Master being against the raids? That's a new one."
Errai frowned. "They are aware of the corruption now? Had they... not been before?"
"It was a shock to me as well," Ingressus said, shaking his head slightly. "But the four clans were utterly oblivious. I can only assume that sending the Champions away to fight us kept the worst effects out of their sight."
Avior put a hand to his head. "They... what? How could—" He stared at Ingressus. "Are you sure– I don't mean to question you, but... how could you know this?"
Ingressus had wondered before how he would explain this to his clan. How would they take the news that their Master had been living among enemy Ardoni for so long? To the Voltaris, any Ardoni from the four clans was to be seen as a raider, because they had known nothing else for so long. Ingressus had seen that there was more to the other clans than the killers that were to be feared, but his people hadn't. This would be a lot he was asking them to believe and accept.
But what was the alternative, lie about it? No. He would give them the truth and trust in their ability to understand.
"I have been in contact with Ardoni from the other clans," he said. "There are more among them who are sympathetic to us– or at least, not so intensely hostile– than we've had cause to believe. They have only ever responded with disbelief on learning of the Prime corruption, even the Nestoris Master."
Yep, those were predictable reactions. Shidar blinked, frowning as he took in what Ingressus had said. Errai half-raised a finger as though in question but hesitated, biting her tongue without saying anything. Avior's "Uhhh..." trailed off into silence, and he stared at Ingressus as though wondering whether he was allowed to ask.
"Go ahead," Ingressus told them. "Speak your mind."
The three glanced at each other, and then Errai spoke. "You... you have been in contact with Ardoni of enemy clans? And an enemy Master?"
"I have," Ingressus confirmed. "I had heard of Master Aegus's opposition to the tournaments, and I contacted him in the hopes that he would aid me in ending the war. He knew who I was, and he has had every opportunity since then to send his warriors after me or to inform the other Masters about me. He has done neither."
"But why would he side with the Voltaris over his own clan?" Shidar asked. "It should be their well-being he concerns himself with, not ours. How did you manage to turn an enemy Master against his own people?"
"Is he going to give his Prime Song to us?" Avior said excitedly.
Shidar looked as amazed and impressed as if Ingressus had told him he knew how to bring the sun to earth. Ingressus could see the older Voltaris's mind working, undoubtedly spinning through the possibilities of a Master corrupt enough to betray their own people for the enemy, or having severe enough blackmail to coerce one to help. But Ingressus shook his head, putting an end to whatever Shidar was thinking.
"I haven't," he said. "And no, he isn't. I'm looking to end the war, not continue it. I approached him in the name of peace– the same thing he had been seeking. Perhaps they have not suffered as greatly as we have, but his clan will benefit from the war's end as well. Aegus Nestoris is acting in their interest as well with this partnership– if he would betray his clan so readily, it would be a poor sign for his dependability now."
"What– peace?" Avior burst out. "How can peace be possible? They've been killing us for centuries, why would we ever make peace with them?"
"What is the alternative?" Ingressus challenged. "Let the war continue until one side or the other is wiped out? We will not be the last ones standing. All the revenge we've taken over the centuries has gotten us nowhere, we can't expect to be better off if we continue."
"Didn't you survive a raid?" Avior demanded. "How—"
Errai caught his arm, the motion silencing him. She turned to Ingressus, taking a deep breath.
"Please forgive him," she said. "But, I think I can speak for all of us when I say this is... a surprise, to say the least. How can peace even be possible?"
"The clans fear us," Ingressus said. "They fear what we would do to them in revenge if given a chance. I've heard many reasons the clans believe the raids are necessary—" his teeth clenched at the word. "–but the ones I've come across the most are to seek revenge, or out of fear of our revenge. All any of us have ever known is this war– they have only seen the worst of us, and we have had to assume the worst of them for our own survival. But in these past years, I have had the chance to see more of the other clans as well. It was a Sendaris who saved my life after the raid, and granted me refuge in the village he lived in. I have fought monsters beside a Kaltaris, and two Nestoris have been working alongside me to end the war. All have been fully aware of my clan. I have seen that peace between our people and theirs is not impossible."
He met Avior's eyes. "Yes, there are monsters among them– as you said, I have survived a raid. I am fully aware of what the four clans have done to us. I have dreamed of revenge, but in the end, it would do us no good. More Champions would only replace him, as they have every time before. We cannot save ourselves by continuing the war. I intend to bring our clan home again, back to these very lands. We will be free once more to live without hiding or fear. We will no longer have to fear starvation or frostbiters or raids, or have to bury our kin before their time or leave their bodies behind to the snow and predators. I will bring our people back here, but we cannot do so without reaching some kind of cease-fire with the other clans."
He looked at the three, standing before him in the now-shadowed forest. The sun was gone by now and the light was fading from the sky, the bright half-circle of the moon hanging in the twilit dusk. Avior had faltered under Ingressus's gaze, the wind taken from his sails. Errai nodded slowly.
"I... see," she said.
Shidar rubbed at his chin hesitantly. "Master Ingressus, I have to ask... how will this be possible? The four clans have had centuries to listen to their conscience, and that clearly hasn't been enough to turn them from the raids. What would be in it for them to accept our return? We have nothing to offer them."
"We will," Ingressus said. "The old Masters began this war over the death of the resonances. I intend to find the way to restore them, and use that knowledge to bargain for our clan's return."
There it was again. The uncertainty, the doubt, the attempts to hide it. He had asked them to accept so much, so quickly– his existence among the four enemy clans, his desire for peace, and now his attempt to tackle their species' biggest mystery to make it happen. It was far from the reaction he would've hoped for, but why wouldn't they doubt him?
"You may think me delusional, or overconfident, or naive," he said, and saw Avior shift uncomfortably. "I know the enormity of what I've taken on. I am aware of the possibility of failure. If any of you have another idea for bargaining with the other clans, I will listen."
The words were both concession and challenge. Based on their reactions, he knew that negotiations with the Masters were not an idea they had ever considered. He knew that they were unlikely to have an alternate plan, simply for lack of reason to believe peace would ever be possible. Why would they have bothered?
"We do not," Errai said, after the three had glanced at each other. "The very idea of peace has always been nothing but a distant dream for us. But to restore the resonances... it has been tried, for centuries now." She hesitated, as though carefully choosing her words. "What are the odds that the breakthrough will come now?"
"I have been looking into the resonances for some time now," Ingressus said. "It's become clear to me that while we lack resources to study the resonances, the other clans lack vital information for how they once worked– information that our clan has taken for granted. They wasted their time for nearly a century digging around the resonances in the hopes of finding some spring of magic beneath them, and they still haven't fully ruled that out."
Shidar snorted. Ingressus understood why. Even when he was twenty, he could've told anyone that that wasn't how the resonances had channeled the magic into Songs. Learning that some in the four clans were still taking that idea seriously had been equal parts amusing and sad.
"The four clans have had the time and resources to spare during our exile to study the dead resonances," Ingressus said. "I have been making use of their research, and they have learned a lot in this time– but they have no knowledge from when the resonances were actually functioning. Our clan has such knowledge, but no capacity to study the resonances as they are now. It may take both to finally solve the mystery."
Avior smirked. "Ironic. They first turned against us because of our research into the Songs, and now that's exactly what they're missing."
"Quite likely," Ingressus agreed.
Well, this seemed to be going well... They appeared to have accepted his desire for peace with the other clans. Avior, at least, didn't seem dismissive of his plan about the resonances– and he had been the loudest voice against peace in the beginning.
He lifted Voltar, planting its base in the ground as he looked them in the eyes in turn. "I know I must not be the Master you expected to find," he said. "But I promise you, I have never forgotten about our clan. I know what a long shot this is, but it carries the ultimate reward for us. Our exile, the scraps of existence we cling to in the mountains– they aren't inevitable. We can have more than that, and I swear, by Voltar and all who have come before me, that I will get it for our clan."
It was the most powerful oath a Master could make. Calling on all the leaders before him as witnesses to his words, on the very spirit of the clan to hold him to what he said. No Master would ever make such a promise lightly, and Ingressus was no exception. He meant every word of his vow, and he would fulfill it if it was the last thing he did.
Shidar glanced at his two companions as he spoke. "It's been so long since any of us dared to dream of seeing our exile end. Even coming to these lands for something as brief as a supply run... there were nearly a dozen of us who volunteered for this trip, just for the sake of seeing this place." He looked at Ingressus, a glimmer of hope shining deep in his red eyes."To think that I may be able to bring my children here one day– without fear, for good, to make a home here– it's more than I ever dared to hope for them before." He pressed a hand to his chest, bowing his head to Ingressus. "Whatever help you need, Master Ingressus, I will gladly give it to you."
Ingressus's heart flooded with relief. He had been so worried he would do something wrong, say something wrong, that he would be rejected or despised as a Master for his absence or his hope for peace over vengeance. His plan with the resonances was a long shot, he'd always known that. But it felt so much longer when he was standing before his clan and asking them to put their faith in it.
"Thank you, Shidar," he said, bowing his head in turn.
"I suppose we can't be any worse off—" Avior's shrugged response was cut off as a splash echoed across the floodplains.
Weapons were instantly drawn. Avior's dual knives appeared in his hands and Ingressus summoned his sword as the four Voltaris gathered together, searching for the source of the noise. Whatever had made that splash was something big– a wolf? A zombie? Or a mercenary or an enemy Ardoni?
Resolve coursed through Ingressus's veins. Whatever the threat, whatever the danger– he would face it alongside his clanmates. He would not allow his people to come to harm. His sword, his Song, Voltar or his bare hands if he had to– he would use anything he had to defend them.
More splashing came, softer than before but still sharp and distinct among the stillness of night. It was coming from the east– the same direction Ingressus had come.
"Avior, Shidar," Errai said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Watch our backs."
The two fell back without a word, weapons at the ready. Errai met Ingressus's gaze, and the two crept towards the fallen tree. Errai circled towards the roots and Ingressus went the opposite direction, ready to leap over the trunk if need be to engage an enemy.
The forest was dark by now, only distant traces of sunlight coloring the sky. But the moon's glow had replaced that of the sun, and its pale glow reflected off of ripples off the water as a dark being pulled themself onto the shore. A curving blade seemed to glow along their shoulders, soon hidden from view again as the being stood up and looked around. They appeared to be alone, but who would wander this far out into a soaked floodplain for no reason?
"False alarm, everyone," Errai said, her voice low but not hushed. Ingressus glanced over and saw her relax, lowering her spear and gesturing to the newcomer. She saw Ingressus's attention and explained, "He's our supplier on this run."
Ingressus dispelled Voltar, but sheathed his sword on his back as the supplier trotted over to the Voltaris. He cocked his head when he spotted Ingressus, gesturing at him and warbling a question to Errai.
"He's with us," Errai explained.
The being nodded, chittering in apparent understanding. His garments were wet and dark from his fall into the water, but between the blue eyes, the warbling language, and the scythe, Ingressus realized he recognized him. The supplier was the being that had approached him in Stoneford the first night.
Ingressus's first reaction was concern. The Segari now knew he was Voltaris– if he made the connection to their earlier encounter, then he could reveal Ingressus's identity to those in Stoneford. But on the other hand, if Errai and her team had chosen to use him as their contact in this run, then odds were he could keep secrets.
"Was there any talk about us in town?" Errai asked.
The Segari shook his head, gesturing at the air as he uttered a response. Errai nodded along, apparently fluent enough in that language to understand him.
"Good to hear," she said.
The Segari nodded, then pulled out a pair of clay jars and held them up with a warble. Avior took them, pulling the lid off one and inspecting the contents. He wrinkled his nose but nodded, sealing the jar again.
"That's it, all right."
The Segari nodded in confirmation and handed over another few jars of medicine. Avior double-checked each one, but the supplier didn't look offended. He handed Errai several rolls of bandages, and then a leather-bound book with a title that shimmered with a purple glow.
"A magic book?" Ingressus wondered quietly.
Shidar nodded. "Magirus has been studying enchanting for a while now."
Ingressus nodded, impressed. The last enchanter he knew of among the Voltaris was the one who had added the flame enchantment to the sword he now carried– his grandmother's, at the time. If this Magirus was able to revive the skill in their clan, the Voltaris would have that much more of a fighting chance.
Errai slipped the book away and handed the Segari a pouch of coins in return. "Pleasure doing business with you."
The Segari growled in response, shaking her hand. Then he turned and did the same for Avior, Ingressus, and Shidar. He warbled a cheerful farewell and walked away again, waving as he went.
"Well, he was friendly," Shidar noted.
Errai nodded in agreement. "I like him."
"Is he part of the Defiant Legion?" Ingressus asked. He knew his clan wouldn't be thrilled about relying on the criminals who'd taken over their home, but he also knew that they would grit their teeth and bear it if that was what it took to survive.
But Errai shook her head. "Not that we're aware of. Mercenary gangs like them tend to try to rope us into doing them favors, as if we have the resources to spare..." she shook her head in disdain. "Our camp has always tried to seek out lone smugglers or the like."
"What is the Legion's presence like in our province?" Ingressus asked. "I know they've been extorting protection money out of local farmers, and neither the clans nor King Rendor's forces have done much to bring them under control."
"They're certainly the dominant power in the region," Shidar said in disgust. "That's why we came this far into the floodplain to meet with Grim; if they'd caught us, they'd have demanded a cut of both sides of the exchange. But aside from extorting the farmers, as far as we know our lands are more of a hideout for them than where they actually conduct their business. No people here also means no one to hire them."
"They've got a presence in places all around Ardonia," Avior said. "I don't know that Voltaria is any more of a home base for them than anywhere else, so there's at least that."
Ingressus nodded. "We'll have to handle them when the time comes."
Errai smirked. "Oh, I'm certain we'll all be glad to send them on their way, whether it's out of our province or on to the afterlife."
Avior nodded in agreement. Ingressus smiled. Just as he'd hoped, his clan wouldn't be intimidated by the Legion. When the time came they would challenge the invaders and emerge victorious
"There is something else," Ingressus said. "Voltar has been trying to guide me somewhere, to a place I assume is in this province. It has shown me visions of landmarks along a path: a tree whose trunk splits into two, a meadow with exposed granite, a spring that flows from a large pile of rocks. Do you by chance know those landmarks?"
Errai nodded at Voltar, holding out a hand slightly. "May I?"
Ingressus held out Voltar to her. Errai rested her hand on the staff, her gaze going distant as the visions played in her head. The memory ended and she focused again, lowering her hand from Voltar's shaft.
"I may know where that place is," she said slowly. "I'm not certain. We can investigate and report back to you in the morning?"
Ingressus nodded. "I found your shelter under the boulders. I can meet you there at noon."
Errai bowed her head. "Of course. It is an honor to meet you at last, Master Ingressus."
"And you as well," Ingressus replied.
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(8464 words)
Screw this, I'm splitting the chapter. I've got a good chunk of the next part written already, but I've kept you waiting long enough. Here you go, the rest will be out later. Phoenix, not everything that you were psychic about earlier might be included in this.
You people like how Grim's cameo went? Thank rosevoltaris and Writer_Phoenix. It was originally just gonna be the part with Ingressus crossing paths with him on the street, but those two were so excited that I felt like I had to give Grim more.