Asrael could scarcely believe the reports from up ahead- at least until he felt his ears pop and realized... the mist had faded. No- not faded. It had ended abruptly as they passed through some unseen barrier.
Atop the camel, Asrael’s eyes darted to either side of the large, spherical space clear of all the fog. Yurgen was no less confused as he dredged onwards and stopped midway down the alley of trees to allow Asrael to absorb their surroundings.
They had arrived at a hilltop- atop which sat an ancient castle, refurbished with the odd, black brick and banners of various makes and shapes. The tall spires on either side of the vast body of the dark-slate construct were twisted and turned at unnatural angles with impossible cohesion securing the bricks in place.
The atmosphere itself was unlike anything Asrael had experienced- dry and warm, when he had just spent most the day travelling in the cold and damp. At his signal, Yurgen spun about to allow Asrael to look at the invisible barrier keeping the fog at bay and, as expected, the space a dozen paces behind him was covered in what appeared to be a solid, white wall of mist that spanned along the circular perimeter of the castle.
In his embrace, Eleanor was no less amazed with the sights.
Above her Master’s head, she saw tall pine trees lining either side of the road leading up to the magnificent marble steps, where numerous people clad in servants’ attire tended to plants and flowers, dusted steps and greeted someone from out of the side of a carriage.
Asrael signaled for his men to remain in the mist as Yurgen began dredging forward, down the finely graveled road. As they came closer, the strong scent of the pine grew ever-more intense, but the trees caught less and less of Ellie’s attention.
She had never seen any building like the one they were slowly approaching- its size aside, its materials – or more precisely, the way the bricks adhered to one-another, seemed to defy nature.
The large slabs and bricks were interspaced with less than a paper’s width’s mortar, as if they had been magically slapped onto one-another, yet... as she watched... she felt as if she could see it breathe- pulsating with respirations ever-so-slightly.
When the two had finally reached the courtyard between the last of the trees and the tall stairs leading up to the slate-and-marble behemoth, one of the servants by the tall, ornately carved, wooden door finally saw the small, tremoring shape in Asrael’s arm.
It was a woman- tall and fair, clad in a long, black, silken dress with a hair as golden as the coins Ellie had used to fluff up her chest. The tall beauty locked eyes with Ellie and sprinted down the stairs- soon to be joined by the many servants around the courtyard- all of whom leapt to surround the camel and the two strangers.
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The woman was, undoubtedly, the leader of their outfit, as all seemed to look for her for advice. Asrael pulled the large leather hat down to obscure his face and kept his arm firmly locked around Eleanor as the woman arrived before the camel to shout: “What has happened? Give her to me- quick!” Asrael found it puzzling the golden-haired woman had been capable of gauging the injury from up the stair, but as was to be expected if these were fellow magi.
Her most impressive feat by far, however, was the fact she could move so swiftly and determinately over the gravel with tall, black heels. Asrael spoke up: “We come seeking a healer. My-… ward... has injured her arm-”
“I can see she has injured her arm! Quick! Take her down from there- take her to the infirmary!” Asrael was, frankly, stumped to hear that his carefully prepared pitch and his mental preparation for their bartering would be discarded to this woman’s helpfulness. His arm involuntarily tightened around the girl’s sore chest as the gardeners discarded their tools to grab for Ellie. Seeing Asrael’s trepidation, the woman in the black dress clicked over the gravel to glare daggers at the man atop the camel and demand:
“If you wish for us to heal her, then release her at once!” It dawned on Asrael that he had not expected this. When considering what he actually had expected, he realized that he had neglected to think thus far. It was not as if the supposedly successful hack that was Thomas could be faulted for not greeting him- could he?
“I am looking for Thomas the Healer.” Asrael spoke as he relinquished his hold on Eleanor. She screamed with agony as the careful oafs grabbed hold of her and helped her off of the camel. Naturally, Asrael was no longer interesting to any of them, as all seemed to converge on the screaming Ellie. The golden-haired woman in her black dress graciously leapt across the gravel to wrap her arms around the agonized Eleanor and shouted:
“Help me bring her to the infirmary- take this man’s beast and lead him in!” Asrael felt a fleeting panic as he watched the entourage of men steal away his screaming, protesting ward and jumped down from the camel to stop them.
“Hold on, I am-” But none seemed interested in him. Yurgen belched loudly as Asrael moved to follow the congregation leading his apprentice up the stair- forcing the necromancer to turn around and look into the camel’s panicked, wide, blue eyes as the rest of the men attempted to wrangle the beast under control. In the world of old, his Master had taught him never to trust anyone with his horse or, in this case, camel- not that Yurgen seemed to trust them much more than Asrael did.
“I will warn you all that my beast can knock a man unconscious with the force of his spittle. Should you mistreat him and you survive, then I can assure you I will kill you- painfully.” Asrael threatened the finely clad gardeners struggling to control the slowing camel. Yurgen looked to his master for assurance and with a nod, Asrael went some ways to soothe the beast.
“Go with them and have a nap. If all goes well, we will leave come morning.” He hadn’t the faintest clue why he was speaking to the camel, as he was as far from a psychomancer as he imagined a magus could be. But the wisdom in Yurgen’s eyes seemed to convey an understanding- that he would accept this momentary stowing away, if it meant he could finally catch some sleep.
Satisfied he had calmed his beast, Asrael set off over the gravel- hurriedly slamming his oversized boots into the pebbles as he caught up to the congregation by the stairs.