Manjuseth had dismissed her men to keep watch outside the door and likewise; Barrel had been dismissed to tend to the horses. Asrael had seen some disgusting hovels, but none quite like the old woman’s. The small yurt was no bigger than the one in which he had met his female companion, but it had a lifetime’s worth of hoarded trinkets and foolish fetishes hung about its interior. On the small table- harder taller than a plank on the floor; Manjuseth sat before three steaming cups of something floral and motioned for her visitors to drink. Neda was the first to assume the lotus by the ‘table’, soon to be joined by her surprisingly flexible, impatient associate.
Majuset turned her kindly eyes towards Neda and smiled; “it is good to see you again, Neda. You look well and it seems the sun has kissed you since you left.” Left? The woman had sold her off- her and her brother both. Seeing Neda nod respectively towards the ancient fiend reminded Asrael of what he hated so about her- that incessant need to be inferior before even a criminal such as this beast.
Manjuseth’s lips smoothed as she assumed a frown. “Rallo is not with you... is he...?” Neda’s hand squeezed Asrael’s with enough force to scramble his carpal bones in a series of clicks. A tear ran down her cheek as she hung her head and nodded.
Tiring of these foolish pleasantries; Asrael spoke up. “Yes, yes, whatever, he died a horrible death. Now; tell me. You’ve spoken to the magi- you should know what has happened to the magics.”
Manjuseth turned away from Neda to look at the tall, pale fiendish man with confusion and question; “What do you mean, Commander?”
This time; it was Asrael’s turn to squeeze Neda’s hand. “Do not play coy with me- the magic is thick in the air out here. This one is capable of expressing her magic far beyond what she should be able to. Now; tell me. When did the magics change and what has caused this transformation?”
Manjuseth scratched the folds of skin on her face ponderously while thinking aloud; “The magics began increasing about thirty years ago with the opening of the Rift- or so the travelling Inquisitors have told me... Commander; have you stayed in the sun for too long? I recommend you drink your yuti-root-” Neda looked to Asrael with surprise as she felt his hand fall limp in hers. In his mind; he struggled to make sense of the impossible piece of information... A Rift... had been opened?
He broke from his stupor to demand; “Which rift!? Tell me all that you know-”
Manjuseth raised her hands and sounded the kind of chuckle only an old, croaking throat could. “Now, now, Commander. I assure you; I do not know which one. I would think you already had that answer- now, please. You really should have a drink-” Asrael was in disbelief. As the woman droned on with her empty platitudes; the magus imagined the implications. Even if just a single rift had been opened, it might mean turning the tides in favor of their dying world- meaning; there was still a hope for the future... the future. Manjuseth and Neda both fell silent as the momentary joy and excitement drained away from Asrael’s face. This was the future. Thirty years past; he had died and approximately around the same time; a rift had been reopened. The factum the two events coincided was undeniably suspicious, but wholly beside the point- at least for now. What concerned him more was what Humanity seemed to have done in his absence- hunted and killed those who might use the increasing magics to further their species, leaving none but the bumbling non-magical fools to spout their supposed moral supremacy. He shook his head at the thought. Mankind had been offered the universe’s rescuing branch, but from that glorious twig, they had created pyres and manhunts- stuck their saviors on spikes and watched them boil inside their own skin.
Stolen novel; please report.
As with Asrael; Neda was beginning to get uneasy. The lack of any ‘wheat’ anywhere and the look on Manjuseth’s eyes as she glanced to the cups repeatedly did not fill her with confidence. Asrael’s grip suddenly tightened around her fingers as he raised a question; “You live out here in the hostile desert- drinking milk from overgrown maggots and digging useless wells...” He shook his head- unnerving both the women with the darkness in his voice. A vicious grin crept across his face as he continued; ”If this woman had been a hydromancer rather than an aeromancer, she might’ve used the magics of the atmosphere to water crops and create fertile ground.”
Manjuseth narrowed her eyes and nodded in agreement. “Yes. I suppose she could’ve.” The old woman croaked- sensing that something had shifted in her rude guest. Neda swallowed drily- she recognized that warning to her tone.
Asrael grinned as he spoke through his chuckle; “But you, in your astounding wisdom, chose to capture the children- your superior, gifted children... And instead of training them to help elevate this latrine of a village, you sold them off to be burned and tormented- to be raised like toys and dogs. Why?”
Neda was surprised to see the old woman giggle and nod; “Out here in the Blighted Lands, we cannot afford to starve for years while we train a child to be useful.” She paused to grin a smile of missing teeth to Neda and Asrael in turns before continuing; “And what would the Inquisition do once they found out why our fields were green? It is far more convenient to sell off the Ungodly to the Inquisition and spare ourselves the trouble of going into a war we will undoubtedly lose as soon as the Emperor’s men discover our secret.” Neda had ever considered that she, alike the rest of the magic-children could ever be useful. But Asrael’s words immediately sparked a flame in her chest- a thought in her mind. Was it a possibility? Could their magic truly be used for something other than barter? Asrael seemed to think so, whereas Manjuseth merely continued to explain;
“Neda and her brother earned our village enough water for several seasons and ten goatworms. That, paired with our thirty-six hunters will ensure our survival for another few years- until another Ungodly is born.” She cackled coldly.
Asrael shook his head. This was what humanity had finally descended into and although he should be joyous to have been rid of all the pretenses, he could not help but feel revolted. Humans had and always would be beasts- he welcomed it. He embraced the idea. But any beast should know when to bow to one’s superiors and these lesser beings- these non-magical fiends seemed incapable of knowing their place. They had dared to hunt him, they had burned his kind and now; this ancient bag of bones and skin had the nerve to defend her actions- to defend her deluded weakness.
Manjuset motioned once more for the cups and said; “Please, commander. The drink will make you feel better.” His lips parted in a sickly grin of his own, but just before he could reach out and touch the ceramic container, Neda’s hand darted out to grip his wrist. She shook her head sternly with a fierce look of deperation.
“Don’t.” She whispered. Finally; Manjuseth dropped the platitudes and wrinkled her nose towards the wildling girl.
“You should have drunk, you little Demon. I will have you rot for this, you insolent child! Men!” Before Asrael could set the cup down; the tent’s tarp was torn asunder and from three-hundred-sixty degrees around them; men appeared in the retina-scorching sunlight with sharp spears and swords aimed for the two visitors’ necks. Manjuseth wandered about the ruins of her Yurt with a disgusted frown on her face and muttered aggressively; “Take them to the pit! Send outriders for the Inquisition! Get the driver!” Asrael glanced about the small army with his arms raised at his sides- surprisingly calm in comparison to the disheartened wildling girl. Grinning; he looked to the warriors and turn and asked; “I take it... you... are the wheat?”