[Pillars of Dust] Hurry

[Nimvahlis]

Music :

89th of Summer, 510 AV

Breath.
"Breathe."

Evening had trudged past Ahnatep, and muted night had settled over the city and its inhabitants. Where the dawn would herald the beginnings of honest business, if that descriptor was apt even then, the rising moon brought about citizens of a different kind. Larks, Scorpions, and Dusk Eaters crawled from the underbelly of the gold and alabaster city to greet those brave, or perhaps foolish, enough to traverse it. Though the golden lights of the Pressorah's palace across the city reassuringly glowed for the nobility, for those that skulked the Pillars of Dust it served as naught but a dour reminder of their status. Here was the demesnes of the city's algae, the ruins where those who leech oxygen hid from those of greater import.

This was the time of cloak and dagger, of surreptitious smoke gathered about ceilings, of soft skin revealed for passerby. But it was also the time of Nimvahlis. The Ethaefal sat cross legged with his back to the dilapidated wall, eyes closed and hands resting limply on his knees. His chest, naught but another shadow in the despondent light, slowly rose and fell with measured breath. With so little experience, the Ethaefal found it difficult to prevent his mind from drifting. It sifted through the vague images of lives come and gone, heedless of Nimvahlis' intentions for tranquility.

"Where have you been?"

The voice spoke to him in sorrowful tones, from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. It pulled at the delicate fabric of his concentration, twisting him around its fingers and pulling mightily. As the seconds and silence after the command wore on, Nimvahlis once more drew a deep breath to fill his lungs. His mind focused not on the thought of breathing, or the forethought of it, but the act itself as it occurred. Distracting reminiscences were blotted out for an instant's reprieve while his mind focused on the simple action. Every moment of each day, this same cadence perpetuated his existence, and now it brought focus. Nim's mind emptied itself, a current of memories carried away by the current, to be replaced by nothingness.

"Where?"

Nimvahlis' eyes shot open as the woman's forlorn voice filled his ears once more. Light, melodic, and despite this he could hear the undertone of somebody forsook. He scanned the gloomy confines of the room, eyes roving over the crumbling walls and shattered pottery. Moonlight flooded in from the ceiling, having collapsed long ago, and a pile of rubble and sand dominated the room's center. The door and its hinges had long ago disintegrated or been stolen, along with any other valuables this abode had harbored. Nothing but rubble, sand, and bricks.

As if weighted by stones, Nimvahlis' eyes closed once more. Pictures of the room's dim environs played across his eyelids, and again he cleared his mind. He did not think anymore, he felt. Cognition was suspended in lieu of clarity, wiping clean the world around him as he focused. Each inhalation sustained life, every exhalation pushed reality farther. Nothing but the act of breath.

"Rediscover me, for I have become lost."

His eyes opened again, vainly searching for the figure of this woman. Yet not a soul occupied the room with Nimvahlis, at least not one visible from his position. He slowly stood, brushing the sand from his white robe. Where is she? He calmly traversed the room's perimeter, curious as to this voice's source. Nim neared the empty portal, standing in its frame and casting his gaze about the dusky area. The courtyard was as uncared for and buried as the rest of the area surrounding The Pillars of Dust, a dry and half shattered fountain posing as its centerpiece. Yet on a rooftop across its expanse, Nimvahlis saw movement. A humanoid silhouette stood against the young night sky, watching him in the doorway.

The figure vanished, leaving Nimvahlis to stare bemusedly at the empty space. With little regard did he dash from the doorway, sprinting across the courtyard in a desperate bid to catch her. Caught up as he was, Nim did not see the man dash behind him. Neither did the Ethaefal see the fist that collided with the back of his head.

"Save me from loneliness."

[Nimvahlis]

Gritty sand and dirt coated Nimvahlis' face as it collided with the brickwork below. Pain blossomed in his head like a rose, beautifully strong yet sharp when experienced too carelessly. A small bit of blood trickled from his mouth to pool in the earthenware's cracks- he had bitten something. Rough hands grabbed his feet and pinned them together, and a heavy boot pressed against Nimvahlis' shoulder blades. None too gently was his head jerked back by his obsidian black hair, and a knife pressed against his throat. The hostage attempted to look back, yet could not see more than the dirty arm of the attacker. "Welcome to the Pillars." His voice was smooth and calm, this must be common procedure for him. The other man continued to pin Nimvahlis' legs as his arms patted them down, while the Eypharian with the knife searched Nim's upper body. Not having retrieved anything before he ran, the two attackers soon found their prey to be devoid of valuables. A thin line of blood trickled down Nimvahlis' neck as the dagger wielder lightly slid it across. "I believe we should have a conversation regarding where you keep your belongings."

"Hurry!" The command sent sparks running down Nimvahlis' spine, igniting the pools of Djed. Their fire ran along his nerves, and through his eyes to immolate the world in flames of countless hues. Though the aurist could not see the face of the man on top of him, an arm would work for now. Keen eyes watched the grey flames rise from the Eypharian's uncustomarily rough skin. Nimvahlis tried to glean more details from the swirling patterns, but could not focus and detect their underlying order. Grey. The lambent fire erupted suddenly, rising higher before just as quickly collapsing upon itself. Once more it rose, but his concentration shattered as a pair of fists slammed into the side of his thighs. Pain lanced through Nimvahlis as the second Eypharian hit the pressure points, and the emerging pattern vanished as the building inferno on the man's arm became dull embers.

A new voice called out from across the courtyard, the soft patter of bare feet resounded, "Gentlemen, do not rough him up too much. We would not want the fresh meat to spoil, now would we?" Light jingling became apparent as the woman approached this scene. Treading around the Scorpions, she bent down in Nimvahlis' periphery. "Well now, what have we here?" Hands, far smoother than those of Nim's captors, rubbed the yellowish jade horns adorning his head. The currents of business became those of seduction as she spoke, "An Ethaefal. I believe I have found myself a favored client." She purred to Nimvahlis, but immediately reverted to her business voice as she addressed the two men, "Release him, this one might be worth keeping for now." Instantly, the dagger was withdrawn, as well as the foot and the bulk on his legs. Sorely, stiffly, Nimvahlis got to his knees and faced the woman.

"I face dissolution in your eyes."

The Lark was pretty, if not rather young. Her long black hair was adorned by small bells, and a revealing shift clung to her barely nubile body. Deep brown eyes spoke of experience despite her age, and a secretive smile played across her face. "I have not seen you before. Please allow me to properly greet you, welcome to Ahnatep. You may call me Tahkra for tonight." Nim rose to his feet, his apparent escort following suit. Dim light played about her form, begging a few moment's focus of Nimvahlis. Yet Tahkra did not allow time for focus, hooking her arm around her prey's and leading him down a narrow alley. "Tell me of yourself, darling."
"I am Nimvahlis."
"Ah, and what is it you do, Nimvahlis?" She abruptly opened a door with her free hand and steered her client inside. The dim room was unglamorous, but free of rubble and sand. A number of beds lined the wall, with a tarnished wash basin in the center of the space. Across the room from their entry point was another door, just as worn as the first.

"Have you not pursued me for these centuries? Have the sands blinded you?"

"I provide aid to those who require it." Nimvahlis considered this untruth for a moment, puzzled at the motive. There was no intention of turning Tahkra into a subject, and so the first seed of manipulation he had planted came a surprise. He followed Tahkra with apprehensive eyes, faced with an unclear directive.

Sauntering over to the basin, Tahkra picked one of many bottles from a previously hidden compartment. Delicate fingers uncorked the glass container and consumed its contents without hesitation. "Right, a bit cryptic are we not? Care to elaborate?"

"Where have you been? Where are you now?"

The woman needed Nimvahlis, and he would find her. But there were more pressing issues at the moment, such as the Lark looking for a patron. His voice was calm, though any feigned attention was betrayed by his tone, "Would you care for a demonstration?"

[Nimvahlis]

Hesitation crossed Tahkra's features as she listened to her client's proposal. Was she willing to allow what she thought would be a mild mannered, not to mention beauteous, customer slip away? No. She padded over to Nimvahlis, hips swaying as she approached. The Lark slid her fingers over his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to reel him him. "Mmm darling, how about we ju-"
"I will pay you regardless," Nim bluntly interrupted her, "You will receive payment, and I shall return."
"What will we do?" The same slight anxiety still permeated Tahkra's thoughts like a sticky resin, inhibiting both entities.

But walls were made to collapse. Djed, that sweet magma, oozed through him and filled his body with warmth and fulfillment. It was the sigh of a thawing man that slipped through his lips as emotions wreathed Tahkra's body. What is it that you feel? Dark blacks interwove with lighter violets as Nimvahlis concentrated, clawing their way out of the woman's skin as if seeking release. Luminous colors trembled in their patterns, exhausted beneath their own weight. She was scared, and burdened, who could live this life and not be? Syna rose and fell, and Tahkra slaved away in the abandoned corners of Ahnatep. The fearful inks that coalesced in her aura never truly dissolved, readied to pull her down. Yet what flowed beneath her was something different, a shattered stained glass window- noble even in ruination. Nimvahlis probed the flickering incandescence of the woman before him, and he knew her. Intimately, irrevocably, his mind reached out and connected to Tahkra's. Deeper his eyes searched, pulling back the laye-

"I have missed you so."

Time stuttered for a second, as if this reminder had derailed it from its linearity. His concentration broken, Tahkra's aura faded from view. As Nimvahlis blinked away the last vestiges of his magic, he saw the Lark staring strangely at him. She slipped her arms from him and took a step back, eyes boring into him. "What will you do?" Her inflection was less worried now, impatience having infiltrated it.
"Apologies. What will happen, is I will show you how to sleep peacefully yet alertly." Without a moment's respite, Nimvahlis began spinning his influence. Thin strands of djed extended from him, coiling about Tahkra's mind to wrap it in thoughts not her own. It was concealed in something innocuous as a reassuring smile, or perhaps the soft touch as his hand brushed against her, and just as hidden was the thought of safety that threaded itself through her subconscious. She knew, on a level baser than cognizance, that this man would help her find peace.

Gently, Nimvahlis slid his hand around her waist and guided her to the bed, "You are safe for tonight, I am here." Tahkra wanted this, she had spent so many dour days praying for such a night. The hypnotic cords tightened as the thought of her and Nimvahlis intertwined, the pressures of Scorpions and Ahnatep dispelled for a time. Quietly, almost hesitantly, she spoke to the man at her side, "You... You will come back then?"
"If you allow me to show you, yes."
"Alright." Her earlier shortness swept away by nervousness as she was once more face to face with the matter. Yet Nimvahlis played upon the threads, thrumming them as a musician might. As the magician whispered his reassurances in her ear, a surreptitious reassurance seeped into the thoughts that drove her. Somewhere in Tahkra's base emotions, she knew good would come of this.

Slowly he laid the subject upon the bed, propping her head on a pillow. When had she become a subject? The thought struck Nimvahlis like lightning, illuminating the situation with new light. His intention had not been manipulation, he simply need information. Nimvahlis had no hope of finding the woman without first knowing the city. He gave her a mute apology as he pulled a ratty blanket over Tahkra, protecting her as best he could from the cold of the desert.

The Lark stared at Nimvahlis as he made her comfortable, a slight curiosity in her eyes demanding to know what he was doing. Instead he simply smiled and spoke, "I'm going to need you to close your eyes, Tahkra."

[Nimvahlis]

The Ethaefal knelt beside the bed, his hands lightly clasping its edge. His voice was low and tranquil, hypnotic notes rolling off his tongue with each encouragement. "Focus your mind, feel yourself sinking. Deeper into peace." Magic tugged at her consciousness, pulling her down into serene confines. Several chimes rolled by, Nimvahlis tugging at the strings he had sewn into her with both his voice and magic.

There is not much time.

Attempting to maintain utter concentration despite the woman's call for urgency, Nimvahlis took deep breaths and focused on his role. He too, closed his eyes, his mouth iterating the calming words as his influence spun around the woman. Peace, blankness, freedom. The words played through the corridors of her subconscious mind, permeating it with their message. He too, began sinking deeper into calmness, the walls of his head an enfilade against the cruelty of Ahnatep. There was only this woman, and the tranquility they shared. Nimvahlis took a deep breath, and sank deeper with her.

At last he asked the first question, the vibrations of his larynx carrying the insinuation of openness of honesty to her. His question was laced with hypnotic power, for Nimvahlis was unsure of how effective his ministrations had been. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Yes." Tahkra's words were monotonous and lax.
"What is your name?"
"Sinast of the Larks" Nimvahlis' eyes fluttered open as he listened to her, watching the woman's face for a reaction. Nothing lay there but acceptance. Nimvahlis continued, "Can you tell me what it is you do?"
"I am a Lark" A frown came over Nim, for she was not being quite as cooperative as he had anticipated. However his concern over this was soon snuffed as he noted the pained look that had come over Sinast. Quickly he reasserted himself, sussurating to the subject as his threads dug into her again. Calm yourself, sink deeper. The impending storm inside the subject died down, her world was breezeless once more.

Rather than continue with the ineffective questions, Nimvahlis opted to recommence with a direct approach, "Who rules Ahnatep?"
"The Pressorah Bashti"
"Who holds much power within Ahnatep?"
"The Pressorah Bashti, The Four Winds, the Inkara."
"Who are the last two?"
"The Inkara are the Pressorah's family, the Four Winds are noble families with titles"
"You may find yourself falling deeper now, or in a few moments." The inquisitor that was Nimvahlis ceased his questioning for a few moments, renewing the trance as best he could. Precursors of overgiving became apparent as his tongue experienced the metallic taste of blood, though in a controlled environment such as this he did not worry. More djed spilled forth from his mind, flooding the lines between the hypnotist and hypnotized. Reposeful thoughts injected themselves into the already flooded subconscious of Sinast, reinforcing the calmness and comfort she experienced now. "You are falling deeper, you are relaxing."

Run.

Sitting bolt upright, the Ethaefal looked around once more, fully not expecting to see the voice's owner anymore. Disappointment was the inevitable result, but before Nimvahlis could sink back into his rhythm a loud rap sounded on the door. Wide eyes looked to Sinast, who stirred slightly at the noise. Whether simply from its loudness or because it triggered a memory, he hadn't the slightest. Again the knock came, and a cold sweat broke across Nimvahlis' forehead. Casting about for some sort of escape route, he remembered the door at his back. A voice, the same voice he'd heard in the courtyard, called from the alley, "That bastard giving you any trouble, Sinast? Why don't we hear anything?"

Taking a deep breath, Nimvahlis leaned in and whispered to his subject, "Tell the men you are fine."
"I am fine." The words came out low and calm, not even crossing the room let alone passing the door. Scrambling to his feet, Nimvahlis forsook the subject and yanked open the portal opposite the alley. He had not looked behind him, but a second set of creaking hinges had accompanied his own. With a racing heart he scanned the room- more beds, a gaping hole in the roof, another basin, no door. In the other room Nimvahlis could hear the two Scorpions' harsh words, they were shouting at the Lark. Sliding a bed in front of the door provided naught but a meager barrier, and by the cacophony coming from the adjacent chamber, Sinast was fully awake.

"Where did he put the mizas?!" Her voice shrieked frantically, piercing the walls of Nim's small room. Without much time left, he dragged the heavy basin and knocked it over onto the bed. The resounding crack as the flimsy furnishing snapped caused far more harm than anything else. "Get the petch, he's in the other room!" Immediately one of the men attacked the door, its entirety shivering under the weight of impact. Nimvahlis' barricade would not last more than a few more blows.

Here, now! Flee!

Her voice, it was not ethereal. She is here. Casting his gaze about as the next blow landed, Nim saw the hand of a woman reaching down from the rooftop.

[Nimvahlis]

Three seconds.

Desperately Nimvahlis scrambled across the room, kicking up the sand of a storm from ages past. That hand, his salvation, reaching down through the dust to pull him from what would otherwise be his tomb. His robe's hem caught on the jagged nail protruding from one of the bed frames and ripped the light fabric. He lurched forward, barely managing to catch himself as his heart nearly stopped. Nim turned and bent to free the cloth, his hands unwavering despite the adrenaline shooting through him. Unhooking himself, he resumed his flight across the room as the door burst. Barely a step had been taken before the portal's weak hinges had broken free of the crumbling adobe, the only thing holding it in place being the piteous barricade. Two pairs of arms reached in, grabbing the door and attempting to lift the unwieldy object over the bed and basin.

Ten seconds.

Both Sinast and the Scorpion hurled curses and exclamations into the room, threatening their wayward trick with more than a little pain. Nim gathered his Djed, lingering in the corners from his previous sessions. It warmed him, dispelling the last vestiges of panic as a certain tranquility set in. He crossed the last few feet to the gaping hole in the ceiling, tilting his head to view the woman. She had vanished, but Nimvahlis still heard her voice from across the roof.

Hurry!

His fingers grasped the edge of the roof as he jumped, barely securing his hold on the adobe and futilely attempting to pull himself up. Fighting against gravity, Nimvahlis' arms strained and burned as his nerves were bathed in fire. He glanced toward the door, his eyes flooding with djed so he might see. Light bloomed behind the wooden barrier as a soreness did in his temples, the grey luminance of the Scorpion intermingling with Sinast's violets and blacks behind him. But there were only two. Where was the other Scorpion? Scrambling, Nim slipped his hand over the edge, and then his forearm. Slowly and painfully he strengthened his grip on the roof and blocked out the throbbing in his head.

Twenty one seconds.

The thug fully freed the door, hurling its entirety off to the side. Glaring at the escaping Ethaefal, he gingerly crossed the bed and walked across the room. Leisurely, almost serenely now that he had his prey, the Scorpion stood in the area's center. "You know you are not going to escape."
Nimvahlis glanced down over his shoulder, breath coming in short gasps. His answer was not silence, as he had planned, but rather a cry of pain. A studded sandal stomped on his hand, shooting embers up his nerves. Again it came down, and again. Any thought of escape was dispelled as Nim slipped from the roof and collapsed on the sand below. Laying on his back, gasping, he saw the second Scorpion grinning down from the roof. Where was the woman?

Twenty nine seconds.

The Scorpions leader stood over Nimvahlis now, Sinast leaning against a wall off to the side. Another sandal collided with his side as the Eypharian's foot lashed out, and the Ethaefal's hand shot down to cradle his wound. His attacker kneeled and straddled Nim's stomach, leaning in close to stare him in the eyes. Two arms pinned the prey's shoulders, the other pair hovering next to his cheek.

Thirty eight seconds.

Harnessing himself as quickly as was possible, Nimvahlis began redirecting his djed. A headache pulsed in his head, and the droplets of blood that had collected in his mouth renewed themselves two fold. Even as the Scorpion spoke, Nim's djed coalesced and readied itself, "Now I think you can see, nobody tries to skip out us without paying their due." He coiled his fist and struck, stopping just short of Nim's cheek. "I should kill you now, allahini sikeyim, but I have plans for you." The Scorpion's voice was calm, he was in control once more. "You will return here in nine days time, and you will return with thirty five gold Mizas. We have you in our grip now, we can put you back into it again."

Fifty six seconds.

Yet the final word had not been said. Nimvahlis made a desperate bid, something, anything to call this man off. "You know not who you threaten." Intimidation was laced in his words, sending subtle messages to the man's subconscious. You would do well to fear this one. His hypnotic thoughts cocooned the Scorpion, building a memory within his mind. Nimvahlis was slitting his throat, an attack from the shadows. Again fear tugged at the hypnotist's assailant, urging him away. "Cease. Leave." Blood trickled from his mouth as he spoke. The Eypharian's fist slammed into Nimvahlis' jaw with a resounding crack, searing his nerves. "Foysha, you are..." His words were lost as a new voice took over, naught but a frantic whisper in his ears yet more prominent than the Scorpion.

"Escape, run! I have waited for so long. Magic, use your magic to flee."

Sixty seconds.

Sitting up, the attacker's fist imparted more burning into Nim's chest, leaving the Ethaefal breathless. His mind faltered as pain superseded rational thoughts, stuttering as he attempted to manipulate djed. The assailant lifted Nim by his arms, pinning him against the wall as his other two pounded his stomach. Time ticked by and lost meaning as his nerves convulsed and screamed under the assault, sickness inundating his head. Finally he fell to the ground, the Scorpion and Sinast walking out of the door calm as the night air around them.

Ninety Seven seconds.

Nimvahlis emptied his stomach onto the ground, trembling on his hands and knees, alone in Ahnatep. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the night sky. Each breath felt like a hammer slamming into his abdomen. He made a silent prayer to Leth, wishing he could become small as the specks that drifted through his moonlight like so many motes of stardust.

Hurry.

[Colombina]

The XP Wand Is Waved! Beautiful thread, and the accompanying music really added to it. I love to see magic written with a strong dash of poetry. While my word is not law, I think of magic as something more organic and individual than structured, so I appreciate such depictions. Nimvahlis's Goodies 1 XP Running (he seemed to do a lot of it) 3 XP Hypnosis Lore of Larks/ Ho's Colombina is pleased.