PM to join Amid the Bones of Stone (Hadrian)

[Wrenmae]

Fall 10, 512 AV


“I wonder at the point of it all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Life.”

Two men, similar enough to be brothers, sat against the ruins of some pre-valterrian structure. Nature had long since won the slow war for dominance and now whatever this structure used to be was little more than stone blocks, pillars, and vines. Both men were back to back, Wrenmae bent over the body of a wolf, using his blade to slowly remove entrails and organs, scraping the bones clean of gore for use later. Maladiction was a process in transit. He was not yet of the skill where he could practice on more sentient creatures, so he amused himself with these means of magic. Zan, meanwhile, watched the shadows cast from the incomplete archways.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You have so little time it seems, building all this stuff. Does it really matter? How are you going to enjoy it if you’re all gone?”

“The point is to leave a legacy.”

“I don’t understand.”

Wrenmae paused from cutting some gristle from a leg bone and wiped the blade on the deer’s hide. “Legacy is leaving a story, your accomplishments, things that tell people you existed…that you lived and live on through the things you left behind.”

“When a Sarawanki grows old, it splits. The parts are new Sarawanki, each with a little of the parent inside. I guess I’m a living legacy then, so I don’t really get how you all can put such faith in these.”

“Stone is a willing medium,” Wrenmae answered, “It stands for centuries and still remains.”

“But no one knows its purpose anymore.”

“That is a result of pride, Zan. The architect should have inscribed it, left a testimony.” Wren shielded his eyes, looking up at the archways, "The fools thought they would be eternal."

“I guess I’ll never really get you humans.”

“Therein lies the joy of discovery.”

A bird exploded from the ruins overhead, cawing out a low insult as it winged by the mage’s head. Wren followed it with his eyes but made no move to harry it. Instead he tore one of the leg bones out of the deer and set it aside with several of the others, laying the blade down and sighing, leaning back against his familiar.

“So what do we do when we get to Sahova?”

“Remains to be seen.”

“Shroud wanted to steal the fragment.”

“Shroud is not here any longer.”

“Yes he is.”

“I am whole. Perhaps there was once a more ambitious part of me that would like to take the fragment for my own, but that fire has died out. I want to serve a purpose, something greater than myself. I need to feel the power cascading from above me, climb the waterfall hand over hand till I feel I’m holding something up, that I’m doing something.”

“Sounds impossible. Can you climb water?”

“I don’t need to,” Wrenmae said with a grin, “I can fly.”

“So no cause yet.”

“No, none.”

“I have a cause.”

“To protect that Konti girl?”

“Sorta. She’s my friend.”

“She has a kind soul, but the only way to aid her is to go. You know the effect we have on people.”

“I know…I just…I dunno. I'll miss her. Do you think I could talk to more people?”

“I suppose so,” Wrenmae shrugged, “Now that you can take human shape.”

“Shrugging is bad for your soul,” Zan said, “Your shoulders should not consign themselves to such blasphemous acts.”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Don’t blame me when your soul’s dead.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wrenmae reached down and began cutting through the throat of the animal, working to excise its skull. The skin clung to the bone, eyes staring blankly before he dashed them apart with the long dagger. At this point, violence against the skin, crimes against flesh and bone were mute upon his conscience. Once he had shirked the sword, the means of slaughtering to pursue his grisly art but now he looked at animals as walking conduits for possibility. Digging the blade into flesh again, he carved against cartilage, against bone, grinding the cold iron and withdrawing it, letting the mutilated corpse drop weakly to the dirt.

“Someone’s coming,” Zan whispered, and Wrenmae looked up, wiping his blade against the deer’s hide before sheathing it.

“Is that so? Well. Let’s be polite. You wanted to meet more people, didn’t you?”

[Hadrian]

The young enchanter had recovered from his fever and coma, though he was still regaining his strength. Just now he was wandering a bit, hiking to keep his blood flowing, to demand his strength return. He had very little patience for weakness in his body. It was not the body of a warrior, but it had been honed down by extensive manipulation of the djed over the years.

He hadn't really chosen any particular direction, but his feet took him to Wrenmae's slaughter field. The scent of blood set him on alert, but when he sensed Wrenmae's strange aura, he came forward unafraid. They had weathered strange tides together, and if he didn't know him well, he knew him better than many of the people on this expedition. He wasn't sure whether that boded well for him on this trip, but there it was.

"Hello," he called before he actually saw Wrenmae. It was best people know one wasn't sneaking up on them. People could be twitchy about such things. Then he did step through a few trees and into view.

[Wrenmae]

Hadrian rose from among the ruins, some young-faced old-soul more at home in a book than here. Wrenmae acknowledged him with a nod and a smile, tearing another leg bone out of his prey and setting it aside. Zan hung back, nervous with a familiar face that did not know him.

Wrenmae gave the familiar a moment before standing himself, wiping his blade and then sheathing it. Clasping his familiar around the shoulder, the both of them walked to meet Hadrian.

Professor Hadrian was something of an enigma to the hypnotist. In Zeltiva he'd played a role of control, the mastermind moving pieces here and there to bring a secret Auction some varying success. Of the men he'd met in Zeltiva, Hadrian and Rayage carried the most mysterious markers in his mind. No doubt the professor was a mage, that went without question. But was he a master among men? Had he, like Wrenmae, reached a pinnacle of discipline? Certainly he carried himself with the confident ease of a man without fear, or at least, a man who was well prepared.

The day wore on them both, an afternoon like many others, spread behind them like tattered tails. Both men were walking history, conflicting experience, and the rich scent of powerful magic. And yet, as two men might be rivals, they smiled easily. Both held the spirit of secrecy between them. One a disease, the other, favored of other gods.

They had weathered strange tides and stranger days, and if that did not owe itself some manner of connection, then what made the chemistry of friendship?

"Hadrian," Wrenmae gave a short wave, crossing the distance between them in three long strides, holding out his hand, "What brings you away from our high-ideal escorts?" A chuckle tore from the corner of his mouth and he shook his head, "Ah, yes, but where are my manners? Hadrian, We've traveled long enough now to raise the curtain a bit. Wizards, by and whole, are jealous creatures. We fritter secrets, we hoard knowledge. But look around you..." Out came his arms, as if presenting the ruins, "All secrets, all shadows, and we will never know why any of this was built." He ran his free hand through his hair, "In the spirit of collaboration, of building on a ruined base, I would like to present you my familiar, Zan."

Pushing the other man forward, Wrenmae put his hands to hip and smiled, "He's been a boon companion for some time, but I think this is the first I've introduced him."

Zan quivered a bit, his eyes bouncing from Wrenmae to Hadrian. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then started speaking, "Well, yeah, of course, I mean, sure. I've been around. Saw you a bit, sure. Like, the deal, and the auction, and the tomb-place-thing. Sure, I know you, Hadrian-Professor. But I mostly play the part of the flask on my master's hip, err, partner. I mean my partner's hip. You know what I mean, right? I mean, you're knowledgeable, right? I can't be the first, certainly not the first.

Or am I?"

Wrenmae only smiled, swallowing laughter and shaking his head. Hadrian could not be trusted, not truly, but if he was smart enough to deduce the auras coalescing, or had any magic of finding this one, Wren would prefer he knew Hadrian knew rather than debating a possibility that could end in fatal circumstances.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian was a rather observant fellow, or so he liked to think. The carnage did not upset his stomach or his ethics, though he was interested to share best practices if there was any maledicting going on. He wondered if Tieh would need his help at all while they were in Sahova, as she had been his first tutor in the discipline she preferred to call Legacy.

"I mislike their desire to control more than their ideals," he said honestly, though he smiled at the conspiratorial tone Wrenmae used. He saw the sarawanki and knew it for what it was, but he had been raised with a certain strict etiquette, and perhaps he had stumbled onto a secret he wasn't welcome knowing despite Wrenmae's smiles, though the creature could have disappeared into the earth below it if anonymity were its true goal.

And he could have spent some time analyzing the local djed, he supposed, and focused his gnosis upon the stones themselves for some clue as to what had been done here and who had spent their time here, but he didn't know if Wrenmae was truly interested in such an investigation.

"Ah, hello, Master Zan," he said, banishing the memory of a student named Zan who had so cruelly initiated him in reimancy and then left him bleeding. These were new days and new acquaintances. "Forgive me, but I don't know the proper way to greet you. I know one of your brethren, Nari, but it remains on Fyrden until such time as I can broker a bond for it. I know a few things about your homeworld, and a few of the different native species. Unfortunately, my own familiar is not present or I would introduce you. Soon, though, I hope.

"I did not mean to interrupt you. Am I wrong in guessing you have some knowledge of Legacy? We ought to share notes, and I can introduce you to Master Tieh on Sahova. Her methods of experimentation are a bit... dangerous, but she is quite skilled." There, a secret for a secret, and an offer or two.

Hadrian could make friends while still holding onto some of his secrets.

See?

[Wrenmae]

Zan blinked, brightening considerably. Clapping his hands together he stepped forward and abruptly took Hadrian by the shoulders and hugged him. "Nari? THE Nari? Oh joyous then! I was hoping she was holding up alright. You don't have it, then? Big mistake, BIIIIG mistake. Nari was totally my better out there. Why, I remember this one time between and Irylid when Nari..."

He trailed off, blinking and stepping back abruptly. "I mean. Nari is cool. I mean hot. Hot in a cool way. Not hot in an attractive way, cause you fleshba-errr...humans like fleshy...things, erm, other humans. Right. Right. Anyways, yeah. Um. Greetings are fine."

Running a hand through his hair, Zan stepped back and looked everywhere but where Hadrian stood, suddenly awkward.

Wren laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm a maledictor, yes. You call it Legacy? I haven't heard it referred that way before. I rather like it...a far less dark word."

Turning back to his work, he motioned Hadrian to follow him. The carcass of the wolf remained as he had left it, barely recognizeable with bones strewn about its body, baking in the dappled sunlight. Zan muttered to himself, already content to be distracted than listen to the two wizards speak of wizardly things.

Wrenmae took a seat on the stone and drew his blade again, slitting the wolf's belly and wrestling out its ribs, cut by cut. "You have contacts in Sahova, interesting..." he said looking at Hadrian over his work, "What is it like? I hear it can be terribly dangerous for mortals."

He felt relaxed in the presence of this wizard, strange given his innate distrust for those he did not truly know. Hadrian carried none of the unspoken menace he had during the Auction....where had it gone?

What was he capable of?

[Hadrian]

The watery embrace was strange, but not uncomfortable. It left him with a vague smile. He hadn't spoken to Nari since the Spring, and so didn't know whether there was a gender there, although he understood that all Fyrdenese were, in fact, biologically neuter and reproduced asexually. This was interesting, and he wondered whether it was a naturally occurring phenomenon or due to the contact between Mizaharan humans and those who hoped to become their Familiars.

"When next I speak to Nari, I will communicate your good wishes. Or perhaps there will be some time in the near future when I can open the door and allow you to converse." But Zan seemed awkward now, and Hadrian was always awkward so he didn't know how to fix that and, instead, allowed Wrenmae to guide the conversation.

"The older writings call it Legacy, yes," he said. "It seems more appropriate, I suppose; you add your glyphs to pull out the essence of the thing, its legacy. Malediction is just another word for cursing, and while a flawed fetish might carry a sort of curse, I wouldn't call all such works curses. I suppose, as with many things, it depends on one's intentions."

But he followed Wrenmae to the corpse of the wolf, seemingly nonplussed by the sight and smell of the carnage. He stood over Wrenmae as he worked, watching and learning. The proper butchering of hunted game was not a skill he possessed. If he was not the man from the auction, well, they were not at the auction. All men wore masks. Some were better at changing them out when appropriate.

Had Ionu told him that or was it his own thought? Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference.

"I spent some time there after graduating, yes," he said. "It is a place for the walking dead. It was not built for the comfort and care of the living, though some do cling to life there, doing their work. Tieh being one, although that might have changed over the years. If anything, my contacts might help me get the opportunity to see this thing we seek, though if it is something the Nuit of Sahova wish to keep, I don't think the Knights will be able to wrest it from their hands."

If he had more of Avalis' vision water, he might know their future, but it was blank to him now.

[Wrenmae]

A grin found his face as Hadrian talked. Legacy, yes, it much more befitted the grisly craft he wrought than anything so dark as maladiction. Zan was unsure of how to proceed, having seen several versions of Hadrian so far and couldn't be sure which one to trust or to engage. Wrenmae offered the familiar no help, more inclined to let the creature figure it out for itself.

"Try telling the Knights that," He spoke up to Hadrian, tearing into the flesh of the wolf again to pry out more bones. "Not a one will stutter their step. Zealots are all the same. They think the power of their faith can knock down walls, but most are too blind to see they only gain passage from a ramp of their own bodies." The bones would take some time to dry, which left them some room to talk. It was just as well. The way Hadrian had carried himself then, his control, it spoke volumes for the kind of wizard he must be. Neither would test the extent of their abilities, not here, not now. But this was a rare opportunity to trade personalities, to verbally joust each other for information. More than likely it would be Hadrian and Rayage's expertise of Sahova that he'd need to follow to ensure survival. It helped to be in their good graces.

The labrynth was behind them now and Wrenmae wondered, briefly, if the mage suspected his dissapearence and unharmed re-arrival. He had offered no real explanation nor expected to give one. Let them wonder.

"What will you do with the Fragment, if you recover it, that is?" Wren asked, discarding the carcass at his feet and wiping his hands on the stone he'd been sitting on. "Will you hand it to the Knights so they can dance around it or will you take it for your own, study it, own it?" He smiled. It was a harmless one, only probing the notions Hadrian currently possessed.

"I doubt we are the only ones to have heard of it, and I expect there will be blood before all is said and done..."

He cast his head over at the way Hadrian had come, back toward the knights camping for the afternoon. "Why serve the Sylirans so willingly? You know they will claim the Fragment if you take it...well, unless you can run very, very fast. They say their law is the only one to unite the land, to restore balance and peace."

Wrenmae chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest and rolling his head. It felt good to speak openly about their companions. Any such word of this back there would earn him swift raised blades.

"Are the Sylirans Paladins or Tyrants? Peacekeepers or conquerors? As far as history is concerned, I'm sure it won't matter...but how many do you think will die before their 'ideal' can be achieved?"

[Hadrian]

"I endeavor not to get into philosophical arguments with true believers," he said quietly. "Of any stripe. I'm not a preacher, but a seeker." He continued to watch Wrenmae's work as they spoke of other things. Hadrian preferred to have his Kelvic friends bring him bones; they were inevitably already clean. But he could respect a man who did a thing himself, too.

"I don't imagine I will acquire the Fragment," he said honestly. "Were I to discover it myself on my walk back to camp, I might flee with it." He shrugged. "But I highly doubt I will acquire it. Either the Nuits will keep it, the Knights will carry it off, or..." Well, the alternatives were worse. "I only wish to study it. The University and the city of Zeltiva have sent me to do so. Though I was born in Syliras, I am not a pawn of the Order."

Perhaps Wrenmae was, which meant he oughtn't say such things. He was not working against the Knights. In fact, he had created magecrafted items for them and sent information from Ravok to them. Perhaps his bit of trickery with the portal and the glassbeaks had been for them in part. But he was not their servant.

"If they wish to become the next Suvan Empire, they are welcome to try. We know how well that worked out last time."

[Wrenmae]

"Do we?" Wrenmae asked with a smile, laying the carcass of the wolf out on the ground at his feet. "You'd be surprised how many of us are not as well learned as you, Professor." Wiping his hands on his pants, expunging the blood, Wrenmae moved past Hadrian, patting him on the shoulder. In the shadows of these ruins, they might have been ghosts...locked here for all eternity forgetting all but that there was something here...long ago.

Shaking his head, he turned back. "To study such a thing...truly a man of academics and knowledge. Bravo, Hadrian. Of the Zeltivans with us, I am most surprised your claim is so simple at the very heart of things." He chuckled. "I make no illusion, I will acquire that Fragment for myself if I have the chance. Too many opportunities flit by us in life, but few hold the resonance of true power...a piece of a God...what wonders could be unlocked using it as a fount of power, well..."

He cocked his head at the mage with a rueful grin, "You must have thought about it."

A cool breeze drifted from the trees above them, rattling teardrop leaves on gnarled branches and catching them both with casual familiarity. Wrenmae faced the wind, put his arms out and let it roll past him, away into the trees. Zan watched them all with a frown, as if working out some sort of complex notion in his head.

"The Knights are too unyielding to face the storm," he said at last, "A young tree must be supple and bend with the wind to avoid being snapped. They have grown huge, their trunk unyielding...but when a great wind comes, they will be uprooted and torn from their security." he shook his head, almost sadly, "They rely too much on their answers and their gods."

He shrugged. "So what of you, Hadrian? Do you serve any of the gods in Mizahar? You say you are not a pawn...do you walk truthfully as your own self, devoid of any divinity?"

[Hadrian]

"Can a man walk this earth devoid of divinity?" he asked in return. He brought the back of his left hand up for Wrenmae to see. The Lormar symbol there flared gold as he tested the surroundings for any contributions to the local chavi, but what came to him was twisted beyond his recognition. Wrenmae was more than he appeared, or different than he appeared. Of that Hadrian was certain. But he had his secrets, so he could not begrudge the man his own.

Wisdom. That might have been the most benign or the most dangerous of answers. Surely, Ionu and Nysel had left their marks on him too, but they were hidden by clothing, and anyway, he sought Wisdom above all. He studied Illusion that he might better understand Reality, and plunged through the dreaming in order to seek the chavena, a font of knowledge that he might forge into true Wisdom.

Hadrian would truck with many gods, though his reverences was not blind. The fabled Ruv'na might have accepted him, gnosis or not. His aims were pure, but difficult to articulate.

"Does this make me a pawn?"