The scent of snow sharpened in the courtyard. It had not yet begun to fall, but the crystalline quality of the air promised that it would. Last year's first snowfall had brought a hunt to the Sanctuary of an entirely different kind. Kavala had vanished in the night, hugely pregnant, making three lives lost. It had taken an unrelenting determination and a great deal of intelligent creativity to both locate her and ultimately save her and her children. Those were not days Caelum was interested in repeating, though he was enormously grateful to all of the gods who had aided him in making it end well. This memory melted in his mind and Caelum rocked back on his heels to watch the others approach, turning his attention from Elise with a slow fade of that wild grin. It slid into something more sober as he took in Kavala, Voss, and Aoren, each arrival setting up space for the next. To the last, they were dressed for battle, and realizing this kicked his heart up into a hard beating, loud enough that it thrummed in his ears. A season ago it would have beat with alarm, but this morning with Morwen's breath ruffling over them from a fast approaching future, he knew his heart was mimicking the boom of war drums. They had followed him out of dreams.
There was more than one of his lives from which he could extract greater knowledge of battle tactics and martial strategy. Yosef, from the tents of Gowan, of the sons of Basalom, had danced with Dira on the sands of Ekytol and when he’d died Syna had lovingly bleached his bones to shining. There was a woman backlit by flames who had the fiercest smile he had ever seen, a peek into a life as of yet unmapped, but the clash and cry of battle rang all around her. They were merely a beginning, but two of many lives. In truth it was the man who walked in his skin by night, whose long dead face he wore in memory of the Valterrian, whose life offered up the best lessons on war. Kasb’el Sunsinger might have been born a healer, but his world and his gods had shaped his life around him into that of a warrior.
Kasb’el’s life was returned to Caelum in the dying days of Denval, when the lost magic of static had laid siege upon the ancient Suvan outpost. It surfaced from the soil of his soul’s memory fully intact, like an insect trapped in amber and preserved for all time. The Drykas ankal had fought many battles, both in Nysel's shadow wars against the Ruv’na and in those waged between empires. The grasslands had absorbed the blood of many of his enemies long before it has seen him lead an army north on a mission for Syna.
Of course, memory was flawed. Even dreamwalking was imperfect as everything was learned from the point of view of the chavi he was studying, be it his own or someone elses. Objectivity and the full scale picture, while not impossible, could still prove difficult to obtain. Therefore while all of the theory involved in Kasb’el’s horde of knowledge was available to the ethaefal he had become, it was not necessarily available for practical application.
Nevertheless, the ethaefal strove hard to make good use of it here.
"We're going to kill Haev Provedan."
Their answer was given as fact. Caelum was utterly certain as to his task and his stubbornness in this was at least a match for Kavala and Aoren's respectively. Voss received a side-winding smile, one that had a good bit of teeth in it to promise an adventure the newest of his friends here would enjoy. The thrill of the hunt was not a thing Caelum typically enjoyed. He was not the blood thirsty sort. Indeed, he was the opposite. He sought peace in near all things and was driven to attempt healing not just bodies, but hearts, minds, and souls as well. His blood thirst today was not just unusual; it was also not solely the product of the strange ailment that seemed to have swept their city this season.
It was him. It had always been in him. That was the greatest secret of the goddess of desire, and her servant had learned it at her feet, and the feet of the world. The revenge Provedan himself so desperately wanted had been glimpsed by Caelum, and then he had mirrored it. The reflection had been caught in an echo inside of him since, festering, waiting. Not just incapable of ignoring it, but not wanting to, Caelum had nursed that seed of vengeance season after season, stalking those souls who orbited around Provedan and sussing out their secrets, securing their aid in sabotage.
That was Nikali's secret, and his. She and her servants did not just see needs and desires, they embodied them. Given enough time and circumstance, they could contain all the wants in the world. They were not unlike divine wishing wells, and the more they learned, the more power they obtained, they more of those wishes came within their ability to make true.
"Provedan -- " Caelum went on to explain.
Of course, Kavala knew very well who Haev Provedan was and she also was intimate with the story of him and his interactions with Caelum and Else, and even Larik and Cadra who had recently joined the group gathered in the courtyard. Voss and Aoren, however, needed to be armed with more information. As Caelum talked he lifted a thick leather weapons belt from the back of the wagon to snake low about his hips.
"-- Is the owner of Rattling Chains, the slaving business that supplies Riverfall. He's shrewd, cold, deadly, and human. He also so happens to be in need of killing." Golden eyes dimmed. "He's personally responsible for horrors wrought on Larik, Cadra, and Elise, and I'm done with biding where he is concerned. I don't seek to abolish slavery here. Not now. Not today." It was plainly evident that he would very much like to. "But I want him, and his way of doing business, done. Gone. Over. And in the space he'll leave, there will be room for something better."
A bastard longsword was lifted and sheathed in its scabbard, sagging the weapons belt down on one side. It had come from a very specific place, and person, to serve just exactly the purpose he sought to put it to today. Daggers followed, long and worn but very well kept. They also went into the belt, and more knives were slid into sheaths strapped to his forearms over the spidersilk of his night leather armor. Still more knives ended up in his boots and he unraveled from that crouch to lift a quiver full of arrows and sling it along with the bone-carved shortbow over his shoulder. It the lighter bow would serve him well on horseback.
He paused to greet Tigrath, smiling despite himself at the sight of the beautiful war horse. The nightwalker-strider combo was a personal favorite of Caelum's and he rubbed his hands lightly over the stallion's nose and up his cheeks, letting the horse nuzzle into his hair and nip at his horns, whuffling warm breath against him. "What do you say, Tigrath?" He murmured, soft and private to the beast. The Pavi came to him naturally, more naturally than the common language with which he addressed the others. Pavi, of course, was the language for all horses in his mind. "Will you fight with me then? I would be most grateful."
A chuckle warmed off of him when Tigrath stamped his feet with impatient agreement. While the others finished their preparations, he beckoned them close with a wave of a long fingered hand. He gave a pat to Tigrath's neck and then dropped into a corbie's crouch, a sky creature in the dust. He used the edge of a knife, flipped from a sheath, to draw in the dirt. First he sketched the road that led off the Kabrin in the Sea of Grass, passing the barren tree that held the bloodied shackles of all Provedan's conquests, and lined that road to the exhausted Forivec Mines that currently housed Rattling Chains. Thicker lines stood from the trenches that stretched out in front of the mine's entrance and still more pictures told of the tents that created the encampment of the slavers themselves. The map he drew was not bad, all things considered. It was clear that Caelum not only had some skill in drawing, but in actual cartography. This might have been rough, but it could have been a great deal worse.
"Rattling Chains is about a bell into the Sea of Grass at the pace we're going to set," he explained. "It's housed in the abandoned gem mine and set down this short road from the primary Kabrin. The slavers have laid trenches in front of it and there is a narrow path through them to the mouth of the mine. A steep, metal stair case leads down and below, well, it's cavernous and twisting and deep. There are multiple pockets off the main shaft, but Provedan's only really occupied the front one hundred or so yards. At least insofar as I know. They hold the slaves as well as supplies."
He looked up at the lot of them. "We're going to have the element of surprise. He has ways to detect the approach of a party, but I've been promised that it won't work for him today." The method Haev used was the magic of webbing, as so housed in the ability of his second in command, the exiled drkyas sorceress Caracatas. "He was scheduled to return with the bulk of his soldier-types from a raiding trip last night, so they should be tired, worn down. His second, Caracatas, should defect from him. I don't know that she'll fight with us, but I am relatively certain that she won't fight against us. The same goes for his fourth, Decath Rhodes, a dark skinned, blue eyed main who's deadly with a broadsword, and Meddon Flint, a silver haired numbers man who's better with his hands than with steel."
Rising back up to his feet, he hooked his fingers into the loop of Tigrath's yvas. Dawn light sparked off of his horns the color of blood. "This is not going to be easy. These are fighters, and they don't know honor. They're bound to have a few tricks up their sleeves. I'm not asking you to come with me."
He hesitated, and then offered them that dangerous chase of a smile. "But if you do, I promise it'll be worth every blow."
His piece said, Caelum mounted Tigrath in a fluid, graceful motion and settled into the components of the yvas naturally. As they set out through the Sanctuary gate, he said simply, "Talk to me," to invite questions, suggestions, and ideas from the group.
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