XXXII. DESCENDING
Aichlan bolted upright, drenched in sweat. He flung the covers from his body as he rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a thud. Ashe raised her head, her hair wild and matted on one side, she wiped the drool from her cheek and struggled to open her eyes. Aichlan forced himself to his feet, overcome with a wave of dread and fear. The light filtered in from under the thick drapes, and cast a ghostly glow on their apartment. Ashe rolled over and sat up as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Aichlan love, what’s the matter?”
Aichlan looked around, he had absolutely no recollection of getting into bed, and what’s more he was fully dressed in yesterday’s attire. No matter how drunk he had been, he would have at least removed his trousers. He flung open the curtains and shielded his eyes from the blinding sun that had just barely crested the horizon, reflected off freshly fallen snow. Ashe swore as she flung the covers over her face.
“By Dawn Aichlan! What the hell is your problem?”
She lowered the covers after her eyes had adjusted to the brightness and shivered in the cold. The body that warmed her through the night was gone and presumed insane. She shot a stream of fire into the fireplace, igniting the remnants of charred lumber. She pouted at the dismal flame and early hour and angrily tossed off the covers.
Her stomach had a perceptible bulge of the life she carried within, and her breast had swelled two sizes. Aichlan briefly glanced at her, any other time he would have been aroused and taken her in his arms. His mind was preoccupied with his lack of recollection, and the terror he held for the missing time. Though blackouts were common for those who drink heavily, Aichlan himself had never made it to that point, and doubted that last night was any different.Ashe wrapped her nude body in the sheet and she made a mad dash across the frozen stone floor for her cloak.
“Throw some bloody wood on that blasted fire Aichlan! It’s freezin’ in here!”
Aichlan weakly waved his hand at her, not really hearing her request. Ashe wrapped herself in her cloak and grumbled under her breath as she went about fueling the fire. Aichlan stood transfixed at the window, staring out into the garden. He was becoming genuinely angry, though did not know why, something in that garden vexed him. Ashe grunted as she flung a massive log into the fireplace, and indignantly roasted the lumber until a roaring fire crackled and popped before her.
“Thanks fer yer help asshole.” Ashe dusted off her hands and made her way back to the bed. “Leave yer pregnan’ wif tae do yer chores. Nae like ah coulda pulled a muscle oor gone intae premature labor liftin’ heavy logs, nae at all. Ye just sit there and look oot the winda. Wakin’ me up at ungodly hours...”
The entire palace rocked violently as the sound to rival the eruption of Rhode rattled the windows. Dust and dirty snow pelted the glass. Aichlan fell back as a wall of debris rumbled across the garden to crash into the window, shattering the glass as stone and debris pelted the side of the palace. Ashe shrieked and ducked down beside the bed, only poking up her head as once the rumbling stopped.
“What the hell was that?” Ashe’s eyes widened as she tightened her grip on the cloak.
Aichlan ran to the window to see what the commotion was. A giant, fiery cloud rose up in the distance as debris billowed through the streets below. The southern wall and most of the city along its edge was completely flattened.
He caught a glimpse of a woman in black disappear into the snow covered hedge maze as he searched for the cause of the calamity. Aichlan lurched forward and smashed into the glass. He cursed as he rubbed his nose, checking for blood. Ashe stood and dusted her hands off as she gave Aichlan a very perplexed look in response to his absurd actions. Aichlan stared out into the blinding snow, searching for the woman as his leg bounced impatiently, ready to take off after her whether the body followed or not.
“Aichlan, are ye well?”
Without a response, he took off after the phantom woman, grabbing his boots from the chaise on his way out the door. Ashe stood in confusion, torn between getting dressed and following him or chasing him down as she was. Ultimately, she settled upon both, jumping into her canvas trousers and taking off after her crazed beau.
* * *
Aichlan shoved his way past the house staff that bustled about to ready the day's attire, start fires and serve meals for the nobility and royal family that resided therein. He eventually wound his way down to the garden level and burst out into the snow covered gardens as a tray clattered to the floor behind him. He ignored it as he frantically searched for some sign of the woman. He turned his sights to the virgin snow, oddly devoid of any tracks save that of small animals and deer. Aichlan placed his hand to his hip as he shielded his eyes from the glare. His heart sank upon realizing he had left his sword. He cursed as he absentmindedly began to walk towards the hedge maze.
The air was still and silent except for Aichlan’s boots as they crunched on the fresh fallen snow. He withdrew his hands into his sleeves; he had also forgotten to bring his gloves. He trudged his way through knee-deep snow drifts as he wound his way through the maze. The occasional bird perched upon the hedge branches to peer at their queer new visitor. Aichlan sneezed as he began to shiver in the plunging temperature, as with most Duvachellian snowfalls, the first layer would freeze solid before the next one would fall.
He slowed as he approached an intersection, before him was a wall of snow covered hedges, to his left and right was a short corridor followed by more of the same. He took a deep breath as he deliberated on which path he should follow, debating over the sanity of his being in the predicament to begin with. He exhaled and took the path to his left; unsure of how he would find his way back if he went too far. The path took several sharp turns before it opened up into a small clearing with a frozen font. Aichlan looked up from his feet to see the woman in black sitting upon a bench, humming idly as she played with her hair.
Aichlan froze as he watched the woman. He was not even sure she was real when he first saw her, even less certain now that she sat before him. She combed her hair with her fingers, adorning it with stylized snowflakes and sparkling ice particles with each pass. Draped in an elegant black gown of soft velvet, her bare shoulders and perky breast were the color of cream, her long silky hair like charcoal. Aichlan stepped forward and struggled to think of something to say to this woman. For some reason, she seemed immensely familiar to him, as did the sense of intense dread he felt as he approached.
“Ahh, Aichlan, you returned.” The woman turned and smiled at him, her voice was of a woman twice her apparent age.
“…How do you know me?”
The woman stood, standing on the surface of the snow without sinking in. “A pity, you didn’t remember last night either. It is strange how some can retain the memories and others cannot. Perhaps it is your role as a puppet of The Order that hinders you so.”
The woman spoke in an unknown dialect; it was an odd mix of Agrardyan and Aes Sidhean with a Thiudorican accent. Some of the words she used were strange as well, though the message was clear nonetheless. The woman’s tone was certainly not friendly, yet the more Aichlan looked at her the more familiar she became. She unfroze the font with a wave of her hand and took a drink. Aichlan suddenly gasped as he recognized her, she was the idiot woman from the Death Marsh.
“Ahh,” The woman tapped her finger on her chin in exaggerated enlightenment as she sauntered over to Aichlan without a sound. “So you do recall that, hopefully you don’t remember the other one…”
“Who are you?” Aichlan backed away, slogging through the snow. “How did you get here?”
The woman pouted, her lusty lips seemed to become redder, or her skin had become paler. “…Morana. Moreover, I am quite offended that you do not remember me, because I remember you. Yes, I remember you vividly.”
Aichlan reached for his sword, realizing to his horror that he did not have it. Morana smirked as she walked effortlessly on top of the snow. Despite her youth and lusty look she wore, her eyes held anger and hatred frightening even to him. The intense fear he felt threatened to break his composure, every fiber of his being was telling him to flee, yet he found he could not move a muscle. He fell backwards into the snow, and shuffled madly in the drift to stand and gain distance from the woman, now openly emitting a malevolent aura. Aichlan winced as he twisted, having been jabbed by his dagger concealed in his jacket.
He frantically ripped open his jacket as he stood, backed against a hedge, the snow falling gently on his head. Aichlan drew his blade and dropped into a close quarter’s combat stance. Though the fighting style was not standard military, it worked well enough for the pickpockets and thieves of Westfaire. Morana smiled, and drew a violet glyph with one hand, placing the other finger to her lip seductively. Aichlan tightened his grip as he searched for an opening or a way out.
“Is this going to take all day Aichlan?” She sang, the glimmer of disdain in her eyes was unsettling, unbefitting one so young. “If you want I can-”
Aichlan lunged with a yell and slashed at Morana as she easily floated back out of his range. Without speaking an incantation, she launched several black tentacles dripping deep violet slime to lash out at him.
He rolled out of the way and scurried to his feet. Taking advantage of the better part of valor, he climbed up and over the nearest hedge. The tentacles followed, shooting through the hedges as Aichlan dropped to the ground. He crawled through the snow; volley upon volley of malevolent energies decimated the shrubbery around him as he rose to his feet and took off towards the palace.
Aichlan charged blindly through the maze, fear imbibing him with breath and speed. He slid to a stop, nearly losing his balance as Morana appeared before him from a small explosion of wispy smoke. He steadied his blade as he dropped into a fighting stance again. Morana laughed and waved her hand. Spirits of those slain by his weapon rose from the blade as malicious gremlins, and attacked its wielder. He hurriedly dropped the weapon as it began to glow red-hot, the spirits then carried it into the ground, cackling mischievously.
“For two thousand years I’ve waited, five thousand tears I’ve cried, one million lives I’ve wasted. But it is for yours I would suffer till the end of time.” She waved her hand, knocking Aichlan to the ground as he tried to scramble to his feet. “Because you, you were my Favorite…”
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Morana drew several runes of black, violet and silver in the air before her. Aichlan felt as if he were made of lead, unable to move, the only way he was still able to breathe was the fact that his mouth was ajar in shock. Aichlan tried to call out, but his voice was also frozen. Morana looked down at him in contempt, her hatred almost palpable. The runes converged before her and melted together into a dripping glob like too much paint upon a canvas.
The scene was hauntingly familiar. The sky darkened as a full moon replaced the sun behind the overcast. The clouds parted as the temperature rose ever slightly, snow fell gently as the bright moonlight caused Morana’s hair adornments to shine and sparkle. Aichlan came to the shocking realization that this scene had played out just the night before. Morana smiled as the image shimmered and faded before it returned to the blinding white of fresh snow and grey overcast skies.
“Finally you remember, unfortunate for you, this time I’m not just a projection.”
A plume of fire roared over Aichlan’s head. It struck Morana full in the chest and sent her crashing into the fountain. Aichlan stood, free of the spell and snow, the air shimmered with heat as Ashe approached. She tightened her cloak and lowered the hood as she ran to Aichlan’s side. He slipped and slid as he charged through the slush, waving frantically for Ashe to turn and flee.
Morana stood, a flurry of black flames erupted all around her, scorching the ground to the soil. She drew several violet and black glyphs with a single motion, and hurled ephemeral tentacles with grotesque faces and gnashing teeth at the ends in Aichlan and Ashe’s direction. Ashe erected a wall of packed soil and flame, taking the brunt of Morana’s attack. Despite her efforts, the spirits either circumvented the barrier or forced their way through it. She cried out in pain and horror as one of the beings became wraithlike and passed through her, cackling madly before solidifying once more.
Aichlan grabbed Ashe as she launched more flames in retaliation; he led her towards the castle, still unable to speak. A small crowd of servants had congregated just outside the massive ornate glass doors leading back into the palace, curious as to what the commotion was. Ashe attempted to clear a path by melting the snow before them, but only succeeded in shrouding them in a screen of steam and leaving a muddy path. Several of Morana summoning overshot the couple, striking and devouring the on looking staff. Two of the creatures crashed through the glass, writhing like eels before rising and taking off to wreak further havoc.
Aichlan stumbled as he mounted the stairs, dragging Ashe beside him. He ducked behind a massive planter as several more of the creatures broke through the third story windows. Aichlan noticed that the ten demons were connected to the glyphs still glowing over Morana’s hand as she ambled over, seeming to float above the snow and mud as steam continued to rise around her. He grabbed Ashe again and led her into the palace, scrambling to maintain balance with his muddied boots upon the polished tile. Ashe launched several blasts of fire behind them as they fled down the once pristine halls.
“Who is that woman?” Ashe breathlessly asked above the clamor.
Aichlan tried to respond, but found his voice still frozen. The woman must have placed a silencing spell upon him, though the real question was why. Silence spells were rarely used upon anyone but mages, a man not trained in the verses and incantations of the sorcerers held little to no power with word alone, so why had she seen fit to render him mute? Moreover, who was this woman and how did she know him? When they first encountered her in the death marsh she was no more than an idiot, could it have all been a ruse?
The two bounded up the main flight of stairs two and three at a time in a mad dash to reach his officers and weapons. Aichlan shoved past terrified staff and the confused guests of Laelianus who came down to see the cause of the turmoil at such an early hour. The crashing of glass and horrified screams alerted him that Morana had not given up her pursuit.
The door to Eth’s chambers flung open as the still bleary-eyed elf looked around for the source of his undue awakening. Aichlan shoved past just as he opened his mouth to ask the meaning of his haste and commotion. Aichlan slammed the door behind him, and began to search the room for a barricade, pausing on Maleah’s unconscious form in his bed.
“Her brother dropped ‘er off ‘ere, said ‘e needed ‘is privacy. Now tell me, what the devil is going on in this blasted palace that I need to be woken at this light forsaken hour?”
Aichlan struggled to speak, but still found his voice to be evading him. Ashe stepped forward to speak for him, pausing with equal curiosity upon seeing Maleah in his bed. Eth swore and pointed to the blanket and pillow upon the couch, tousled as if it were recently slept in.
“Nathin’ happened! Now what the bloody ‘ell is goin’ on oot there?”
“We’re under attack, and I don’t think Aichlan can speak, we need Clarissa.”
“Why the hell would she be here?”
“Why the hell is she here?” Ashe snapped back pointing to Maleah as more chaos unfurled outside the room.
“…She’s prob’ly wit’ Séverin. Those two left together shortly after Aichlan took off. Why cain’t ye talk?” Ashe adjusted her cloak, revealing her bare midriff and a bit too much cleavage. “An’ why’re ye naked lass?”
Aichlan grabbed Eth’s sword from its resting place leaning upon the couch. He thrust it into Eth’s hands as he went to rouse Maleah. His first attempts were gentle yet would normally rouse any normal man or woman. Unfortunately, for Aichlan, Maleah slept like a hibernating bear. He attempted to rouse her again, this time more forcefully, eventually violently shaking the woman.
Aichlan was baffled, placing his ear to her chest to be certain she still lived. She snorted in her sleep and weakly struck him across the face, though showed no signs of waking.
“Just pick her up; we have to get to Clarissa and the others. Eth, you’re our sword.”
Aichlan hoisted Maleah over his shoulder as Ashe poked her head out of the door. Eth was still confused as to what was going on, but knew his role and took it on nonetheless. The sounds of chaos remained distant; either Morana had passed or not yet reached the level they were on. The only sound disturbingly absent was the sound of palace guards at arms, or any armed forces retaliating against this threat. Aichlan only hoped that this woman’s attack was not a prelude to a greater force, though everything in him told him it was.
The hallways were empty save for a few terrified or confused staff and residents. Aichlan was able to catch a bit of their conversations in Elysian, it seems the elves were thought to be the cause. They charged through a corridor, and Eth was able to see the carnage and black flames still burning in the courtyard and gardens below. The tentacle creatures continued to weave in and out of windows, some with half masticated maids in their misshapen maws.
“Dahwn blimey, what the bloody ‘ell did ye lot get intae?”
Aichlan pointed Eth to Séverin’s door as they came to a stop, screams made their way up to the fourth floor as more became alerted of the current attack. Eth rapped on the door as a visitor might to one expecting them. Both Aichlan and Ashe exchanged confused glances at his uncharacteristic restraint. When no answer inevitably came, Aichlan pounded on the door with his fist for several seconds. The angry sound of Séverin uttering what could be assumed as Xanavien obscenities as he shuffled to the door quickly followed.
“Can’t say ye missed much last night. Food was alright, buncha stiffs feigning polite conversation though.” Eth added to fill the silence.
The door opened and Séverin was met by his sister’s rear hanging over Aichlan’s shoulder. He turned his haggard gaze to Eth and Ashe next, finally back to Aichlan. It was obvious by the dark circles under his red eyes and the heavy scent of cognac still hanging about him how his night ended and how he felt about this awakening. He scratched his bare chest, his hair disheveled and his trousers unbuttoned.
“She dead?” He asked in a thick Xanavien accent.
Ashe shook her head. “No, we can’t wake her an—”
Séverin held up his finger for silence. “Maleah, Osric has doll, he says he will rip off head if you don’t give back old book. I think he is serious this time.”
Maleah struck wildly causing Aichlan to drop her. “That son of a bitch! He started it!”
“That doll very important to her.” Séverin explained as he scratched his head. “She says it smelled like mother. If that is all, get the hell out of here, I’m busy.”
Eth held the door open as Séverin attempted to slam it on them. “Is Clarissa in there?”
“No.” he replied flatly, trying in vain to slam the door.
“How did I end up here?” Maleah stood and leaned heavily on Ashe for balance and support. “Why does my ass hurt?”
“Please, it’s important Aichlan’s been silenced.” Ashe pleaded as several men ran past them.
Séverin looked to Aichlan for confirmation, but he could only nod in response. “Come then.”
Séverin stepped aside allowing the group to enter. The room was neat and orderly, aside from the clothes, Cardinal’s robes and gown strewn across the floor. Clarissa was still asleep and wrapped in silk sheets, a contented look upon her face. There was no doubt as to what occurred here the night prior. Séverin made his way to the liquor cabinet, and poured two glasses of vodka. Maleah shuffled over to the armchair and collapsed with a groan.
“What am I doing here and why?” Maleah whined as she hid her face in the crook of her elbow. “I feel like throwing up…”
Clarissa stirred, stretching and yawning like a cat waking from a nap on the sun-drenched windowsill. She sat up a bit surprised, covering herself with the sheet as she realized there were others in the room with her. Aichlan stepped forward, gesturing to his throat. Clarissa gave him a perplexed look as she turned to Séverin.
“I’m sorry, but why are all of you people in here?”
“The palace is under attack, some witch has silenced Aichlan and we need to get out of here now!” Ashe blurted.
“Why would you be silenced?” Clarissa wrapped the sheet around herself as she got out of bed, taking the glass of vodka from Séverin. “And what do you mean under attack?”
“Sister, take up your lance.”
Maleah scratched her head, her eyes bleary, her skin pale and perspiring. “Where is it?”
Séverin pointed to the armoire as he put on a shirt. Maleah forced herself out of her chair to retrieve her weapon. Clarissa kneeled down and took a sip of the liquor as she examined Aichlan. She opened his mouth and massaged his throat with her free hand, her brow knitted in increasing bewilderment.
“Where is his sword?” Séverin asked Ashe as she took Maleah’s seat.
“In our room.”
“Eth, can you retrieve it and rouse the others?” Séverin strapped his daggers to his belt and donned a pinstripe waistcoat.
“Aye, should we meet back ‘ere?”
“I doubt that will be an option. Be sure to bring Alice no matter what.” Séverin rolled up his sleeves, still trying to wake up.
“Why Alice?” Ashe asked as she tightened her cloak across her bare torso.
“Because, if he’s been silenced by dark magic, then only magic can remedy it.” Maleah spun her lance, waking slightly with the familiar feel of the weapon. “I need water brother.”
“I’m afraid she’s right, this seems to be out of my area of expertise. Nevertheless, why would you be silenced?” The door slammed as Eth went about his task just as Clarissa finished her examination. “You’re no mage.”
Séverin tossed Ashe a tunic as he crossed the room to look out the window. “You two ought to get dressed. A battle is at hand.”
Aichlan joined Séverin at the window, his jaw dropped at the sight in the city below. An army had amassed at the breach in the city walls, and a battle ensued. The source of the palace's lack of security was evident, as the bulk of Marquez’s defenders were atop the city's remaining walls attempting to repel the invaders.
The attacking forces looked to be made up of both human and dusk spawn. The army flew no flag and wore no identifiable colors, but there was no doubt as to who they belonged to. Aichlan’s heart began to race at the prospect of doing battle with Osric again; no doubt, the man led this assault.
“Let us go, despite the king’s disapproval, I believe our army's services will be necessary. If not to save this city and its citizens, then to save our own people and interests.”
Aichlan nodded in agreement and made his way out as Séverin finished his drink.