“I really should scale back on Yearnum.” Priernuss groaned as the light burning his eyes entering from the quite large window paired up with his head’s desire to split open amidst harsh throbbing. His right hand with its tender palm swept through the myriad roots of his slowly regrowing hair as he slowly regained his full consciousness amidst the cascade of agonies.
“Now that is something new, I never heard here before.” Hustarra, a seasoned and stout dwarf of the Hogstool clan, remarked with a sly tone, the light revealing the sheen of secretion on her weathered skin. Her sizeable breasts dangled back and forth, left and right as she stretched her short, bulky arms to the sides while Priernuss struggled to stay on foot.
“Don’t tell me northerners lie to themselves on these challenging mornings?” Priernuss asked as he started inhaling with eyes closed which he regretted only a few moments later.
A deep burp escaped Hustarra’s that made her smile as she felt the sour taste of Yearnum once again. “You could say so. At least I know Igior has this habit when he forgets his limits.”
As she slowly crawled out from the bed, she stopped and grabbed her stomach as an immense pain rushed through her. She felt as if a giant maggot burrowed itself into her and moved around, chewing her intestines and stomach.
“Everything fine? Please don’t throw up or I get thrown out.” Priernuss asked worrying both about her and himself after he threw up at least three times in the room with the last became a part of the old wooden floor. As his words reached her ears – all the pain within her suddenly stopped and she felt an unnatural relief.
“Yeah. I’m famished.” Hustarra said as her stomach emitted a pulsing growl accompanied by a hunger bordering on ravenous, craving precisely for roasted and delicately seasoned meat.
“I feel the same.” Priernuss remarked, giving his exposed belly adorned with eight well-defined muscular sections a friendly pat.
**
“Was everything alright yesternight?” Amiriniel asked Sigi the moment Mirdbruil headed into one of the few shops set up in the village near the eastern end of the small market. A larger structure of stacked stones held together by the strength of the mud slightly altered by maghia that gifted its adhesive quality. The trio were in preparation for heading out from the village to pluck some mushrooms natively growing in the forest.
“Had a hard time falling asleep.” Sigi said with a smile forced upon his face. Even at that moment any sensation that surfaced within got wrapped by tendrils and dragged in to a bottomless abyss leaving him, devoid. And the memories of his dreams while still occupied his mind, they were hazy, a piece of paper riddled with holes at important parts.
“Fine. Then I’m going to do it the hard way.” Suddenly Amiriniel raised her fingers engulfed in swirling blue energies and touched his right temple. Yet she could not find answer when peering into his mind. She could only find the calmness bloomed from the seeds of desolation. And a coldness that lurked within her mind, merging with the all too familiar coldness that made her tremble a little.
“That is rude. Mom told you not to do that.” Sigi said trying to sound slightly annoyed.
“It is in normal circumstances. But right now, something clearly is not right with you Sigi.”
“Just a bad dream that is all. Hopefully the vicar can alleviate it.” Sigi said as his small back pressed against the harsh surface of the shop. He watched as the other, younger children played around as snow began its descent upon the village’s market. A cloud of mist danced in front of his face as he sighed deeply and watched as it left to the white sky with the bright amber spiraling sphere still seen in the southern horizon.
“Fine, but tell me about this bad dream later.” Amiriniel’s voice lowered as the old wooden door opened with Mirdbruil stepping out. As the two grabbed onto her hands, the snow began it’s descent from the sky.
**
The scraping of chalk echoed through the small temple dedicated to the Deossos in the village. The decagon shaped building encompassed a good chunk of the village’s south-eastern side with its walls just a hair breadth away from the protective wall.
The interior itself seemed spacious to the four of them with columns numbering at nine in the center holding the roof from collapsing onto their heads. They watched as the aethgoorn priest’s height remained the same even when kneeling on his own golden and white garment’s lower end as he finished drawing the white circles and triangles surrounded by mystical runes.
“Come little Sigi.” The elderly dwarf with a golden visage hidden behind warm amber hued beard and receding hair exposing the glistening top of his head called out to him in a kindly tone fit for the elderly. Sigi remained still, unresponsive for a moment as he felt fear for a short moment before it faded then started walking forward after looking at Mirdbruil and Ulrich.
“Oh, we also brought some plants to help.” Then as Sigi arrived at the center Mirdbruil spoke up and handed the satchel to the dwarven vicar. As he opened it up slowly with shaking hands, peeking inside he noticed the bright mauve leaves of Alvarianus plants that help the mind sooth and slow the flowing of mana between the arkhaine points. There were also a few rheadil seeds brought from the south that can induce a waking dream like state to help in peeking into the recently gained memories of both the waking and dream world.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Thank you, my child. If you could it may be better for you three to wait outside while the ritual goes down.” The satchel closed itself and hovered towards the table with many other alchemical components prepared.
“Is it really necessary?” Amiriniel asked as the two bowed then led her out gently. “Yes, rituals can be tricky to perform in smaller places even for the well-versed.”
The door’s closing intertwined with the cold stone rising and forming into a seat – not the most comfortable one, but still a seat nonetheless. “Just sit there. It will be over in the single beat of your kind heart little Sigi.” The vicar said in his deep gravelly voice with a wide, soothing smile under his thick beard.
“I’m not afraid.” Sigi whispered in his meek voice as glared at the dwarven vicar and noticed the radiant particles dancing around his bulky stature, forming a halo behind his head.
“Good. I could tell from first glance that nothing is wrong with you, my son. His blessing radiates from your eye, from your heart.” As he said those words the halo shattered silently and formed into dancing pentagons that lit the gloomy room up with their unseen light glow. “Now stay here for a bit. I’ll make the necessary components in a few moments.”
**
The aroma of herbs wafted through the air inside the small chapel as the dwarven priest lit the herbs he and Mirdbruil brought inside a small, oval plate. It was a combination of sweet scent reminiscent of certain orange hued apples transported from the south. Apples that had strong sweet taste and a transparent flesh he recalled while closing his eyes, inhaling the mist like smoke emitted from the plate held under his soft face.
“Breathe in deeply. Ease your mind and let dream become one with reality.” His deep voice shattered the silence. Sigi found keeping his eyes fully open harder and harder with each passing word, with each passing moment.
“Sense his hallowed presence. His hallowed gift to all of his favored children.” He lifted his heavy arm and palm blocked Sigi from seeing his elderly dwarven visage. The brass hued palm lit up in a radiant golden glow and warmed his face with its sanctified light. Through his blessed eye, he saw and felt the channeling of the radiant matter formed and gifted by the Dawn Father upon all elevated kin of the planes.
The particles light deepened within the room and reality blurred as Sigi felt the veins of mana within his animus slither about between his nine arkhaine points. He felt both dreamy and strength – strength which he could force upon the laws and elements of the world.
The dwarven vicar lifted his palm away from his face and exhaled deeply. The sensation faded as the lights grew darker and he noticed the dark shape towering over the dark vicar. A shape draped in tattered dark robes, a hood under which an all consuming shadow rested, only parted by two slits of prismatic hue that reminisced him of Aurelithae’s fine scales adorning her mesmerizing face.
He raised his long arms that almost reached beyond where his knees may lay. The long index finger on it with a perfect curve unfolded as a hundred silent shushes assaulted his ears and mind. A deep calmness washed over Sigi as the wind blew inside from the small windows carrying the aroma of herbs outside and far beyond the borders of the village.
“We are done my son.” The dwarf smiled as wide as he the corners of his lips allowed unaware of Him behind as he offered his hand to help Sigi down. For a moment Sigi remained frozen in serenity and with a blink he disappeared taking the emptiness with him. Sigi felt relief that turned into a strange but welcome joy as the door opened and the trio who waited not so patiently burst in with worried looks aimed at him.
“No need to worry. But before leaving, we should talk.” The dwarven vicar said as he gave an apple to Sigi and Amiriniel before turning to Mirdbruil and Ulrich. The two nodded and told them to wait outside.
“What happened in there?” As the door closed behind them after they stepped into the snow, Amiriniel asked brimming with curiosity.
“I’m not fully sure. But I’m relieved.” Sigi said as he bit into the apple and let its sweet taste spread within his mouth as he stared at her with his usual kind expression.
**
Sharp stalactites of gloomy kind decorated the ceiling of the long underground pathway. Luminous light lit the dark path and pulsed every so often. The usual silence of the underworld was broken by the soft steps created by the marching band of Virdr warriors and magusos.
They were draped in various hides and pelts of the basin’s fauna with long loincloths dangling between the warriors legs, the magusos ending in long kilts scraping the harsh ground. Furred collars surrounded their necks in varying hues of brown and white, the former to help them blend into the underworld surroundings, the latter for the overworld’s snow covered vastness.
Both groups were clad in ornated armor crafted by their own hands from the bones of the very same beasts, shaped and strengthened by maghia to be as effective as their once prided plates. So did their ivory weapons and shields were crafted with serrated edges that were protruding bony spikes. The center of their shields and the top of the staves bore the sigil of the fallen kingdom, a sharp edges snowflakes with the eye of the Twilight Father etched into its center.
“Thank the First and the Nine. We’re here!” A young half-aevhen man with short scrubby hair with the vibrant hue of tree bark and avian eyes and claws waved at the approaching silent band.
“Silence idiot. It’s not just the Host we have to fear down here.” An aged maiden in the very same armor and furred clothing said while slapping the back of her brother’s head.
“They seem awfully silent.” A shorter Hogstol dwarf said with clothing made from the hide of a majestic stag. Head completely exposed, and a large beard that reached down to his waist. He noticed the uncanniness of them returning after holding back the enemy led by a dark magus draped in robes blacker than the night, wicked plates with a grayish tint in sharp angular shapes.
“Damn the...” The maiden tried to curse, her words smothered by the single arrow that found its way into her neck. Her deep crimson blood flowed out and tainted her ivory plates as she got down onto her knees. As soon as her face hit the ground, a cacophony of screams – warped and dread filled – echoed through the whole section.