By the time Callan and Paeral returned, Kivi had located their errant priest.
“Just what I was afraid of,” Callan said as Kivi showed him the map of the plateau, which now had the scry circle covering nearly two-thirds of it. At the very edge of the circle, a single white dot flickered brightly.
Dangit. And Callan had been so hoping he was wrong, too, and they’d turn up the priest sleeping in a barn somewhere.
Paeral glanced between the two of them. “What is it?”
“Your brother decided to go rogue and seek out that hermit on his own.” Callan glanced at Kivi. “I’m guessing you were already suspecting that to be the case?”
The high priestess nodded absently, her attention still on the map.
“I do not understand,” Paeral said. “Avatar, if you suspected my brother of having gone against your wishes, why did we not set out after them immediately? Or send me to collect him?”
“Because the avatar knew that if he or I left the village, it would cause an uproar,” Kivi said. She frowned, her focus still elsewhere. “Sending you by yourself would have only made the situation worse, Paeral. For many reasons.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying, High Priestess, but I—”
“Avatar, what do you make of this?” Kivi said, cutting the older lud off. She gestured to the map.
Callan came to stand by her and watched. At first, he didn’t see anything. Then, Sworv’s light flickered and disappeared. A moment later, it briefly returned. Then it flickered out and was gone again.
Interesting, Xeph rumbled.
“You know what’s going on?”
Perhaps. If it is what I suspect, the scry will reveal it in a moment.
The circle expanded slightly, and Sworv’s dot returned. Almost as quickly as it appeared, it winked out again. Only this time, Callan noticed something else.
“The circle! It contracted!” He pointed at the map as Kivi glanced at him. “It grew, and then it... shrunk? No, that’s not quite right.”
Indeed, the circle wasn’t shrinking so much as it was deforming. He watched as its sides bulged in places and depressed in others. Most of its northern line wavered in one direction, then another. Sworv’s dot did not return.
It is as I suspected. The scry function is encountering another god’s domain and is losing coherency. I suspect we both know the one responsible.
“Yeah, I suppose we were aware Veritas was hiding somewhere to the north.” Quickly, Callan explained what Xeph had told him to the others. Then he returned to studying the map. “You don’t suppose we could use their domain to find where their temple is hiding, do you?”
Unlikely. A temple’s domain is not a perfect circle itself and is subject to many different fluctuations that can vary its shape and range at any time.
“Still, the temple would be roughly at the center, right?”
Not necessarily so. Besides, we will not be able to determine enough of Veritas’s domain solely based on interference to the Scry function. If our own domain were to ever extend over the entire plateau, perhaps, but until then...
“Fine, fine.” Callan lifted his hands in surrender. “It was at least worth considering. But hey, we know where Sworv is. That’s got to count for something.”
Perhaps.
“You like to say that word a lot, you know that?”
We all have our little mannerisms. Shall I recite a list of yours, and see how the both of us compare?
“Avatar,” Kivi interrupted. “If I may, we know the cause of Sworv’s disappearance now. And while his insubordination will have to be attended to upon his return, at the moment, there is little else to be done about the matter. May I return to using the altar? I still wish to contact Shamain on other matters.”
“Sure, sure. Probably about time I tracked down some dinner.” Since Alyssa was no longer present to deliver food, Callan figured he’d need to get it directly from Belinda. Maybe she’d have some good news on the follower front for him, too. “I’ll talk with you later, High Priestess.”
“Mmm. Have a good evening, Avatar.” The last Callan saw before he exited the basement, Kivi was once again opening a line of communication with the main temple.
----------------------------------------
Sunset was approaching by the time Callan stumbled back into the guest house and collapsed into bed. He let out a dull groan, face half-smothered by his pillow.
Yes, that was a rather long-winded conversation, wasn’t it?
“That’s putting it mildly.” Callan groaned again.
The mayor had been at her home when Callan arrived, and while she had not yet found a replacement for Alyssa’s faith, what she did have was an overabundance of ideas for their next course of action. Which she wanted to discuss with him.
In detail.
So. Much. Detail.
He rolled over. “How the hell has Kivi been dealing with that woman by herself all this time? If I’d known she was going to talk my ear off, I’d have just stayed here and gone hungry.”
I imagine the high priestess utilizes all of her diplomatic skills for dealing with the situation. Much as she does for you.
“Oh, ha ha.”
Regardless, perhaps next time you could focus the yeth woman’s attentions elsewhere? Ask her for that history lesson on the northern lands. It should do to occupy her attention, as well as provide some context that our own knowledge is sorely lacking.
“I don’t know. After thinking about it, Kivi is probably right. Anything more we ask of the mayor is just ammunition she can use to negotiate with us. And I’d just as soon avoid doing that until Veritas is dealt with.”
Hmm. And how soon do you expect that to be?
“With Sworv making his way toward that hermitage? Hopefully only a couple more days. One way or another, we’re headed home after that.” Callan smirked at the thought. When had that horrible hole in the ground become a home for him?
I wish I could share your optimism, but the likelihood of this hermit even listening, let alone accompanying our priest... Xeph trailed off. Human, what is that?
“Huh?” Callan glanced over but couldn’t see anything from where he was laying. He sat up.
There was a small white stone on the middle of the table, just visible in the dimming light. Something lay beneath it.
Stolen story; please report.
Climbing to his feet, Callan approached warily. His wariness only increased as he lifted the stone away. A small slip of paper, folded in on itself, lay beneath.
He picked it up and moved over to the window. Unfolding it, he held it over his head, letting the last rays of sunlight illuminate the words written inside.
To Avatar Callan and Xeph-Zul-Karatl, god of stone and mountains,
I have your priest. He is being held per the strictures on enemy combatants in paragraph forty-seven of the Accords. If you wish to ransom his return, meet me at sunset beside the white oak tree on the far side of the lake. Come alone, or not at all.
Veritas, god of metalworking
“Shit. Shit!” Dropping the letter back on the table, Callan ran for the door. A moment later he was outside and moving in the direction of the lake as fast as his legs would carry him.
Mortal? What are you doing???
“You saw what that letter said, right, Xeph?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Veritas has Sworv. I don’t know if they captured him on the way to the hermit or if they’ve had him all along, but the meeting time is...” he glanced at the sliver of remaining sunlight. “...like, five minutes ago.”
Still, that is no reason to go running into an obvious trap! At the very least, take precautions! Fetch an army of villagers! Bring our high priestess, or the mayor, or someone! Going alone is the height of foolishness!!!
“You read the same letter as me, Xeph. This other god expects us to come alone. Probably some rule in the Accords or whatever. We show up with an army, Sworv is as good as dead.” Still, Callan slowed his feet. Turning, he ran back towards the guest house.
We don’t know that, mortal! A quick consultation with the mayor might help us make a more informed decision. We could... could... what are you doing now?
“Hey, you were the one who just told me to take precautions.” Darting inside, Callan moved towards his bag and rifled through it. A moment later he came back with the dveorg bracelets. He slipped them into a pocket before turning to run outside again. His feet ate up the ground as he made for the lake.
All he could do was hope he’d get there in time.
----------------------------------------
Not long after the last of the sunlight slipped away, a moon rose bright and angry in front of him. The light it cast had a reddish hue, painting everything in bloody strokes.
A moonrise at the start of a journey, Xeph noted sourly. And the Butcher at that. A very ill—
“—Ill... omen. I got it... Xeph.” Not bothering to waste anymore energy on words, Callan picked up his pace. He’d reached the lake now and was running along its northern shore. All he could do was hope he’d recognize this white oak tree when he saw it.
Unfortunately, his head-mate wasn’t restricted by such minor details as lungs or their capacity to process air while moving at a moderate sprint.
I don’t suppose you need me to tell you why the Butcher is considered a particularly bad moon?
Callan gritted his teeth but managed to squeeze out a single word. “...Tides?”
No, fortunately for you the Butcher’s influence over tides is relatively minor. Something about whatever gives it that unique color also causes it to have less of an influence. Several of my siblings found it a highly interesting course of study, but as travel beyond the planet is difficult for my kind, the research never amounted to anything, and eventually we simply—
“Xeph...” Callan bit off the word as he leapt over a fallen log. Even with the moonlight it was difficult to make out where he was going. The odds of another branch or rock sending him tumbling into the lake was a very real prospect. Despite this, he didn’t slow down.
Very well, mortal, your point is taken. No, it is not the moon’s influence on the tides, but rather the general disposition of the Overworld’s inhabitants that you need concern yourself. Thieves and smugglers may travel beneath the light of a Brigand moon, but the only sort of people that wander by the bloody light of the Butcher are those going to bloody business themselves. You should prepare yourself as best you can.
“Duly... Noted...” Up ahead, Callan noticed a tree standing by itself a short distance from the water’s edge. Unlike the others circling the lake, it bore no leaves, instead standing stark and defiant, bare branches reaching towards the sky.
Under normal light, he guessed it would have been pale white, but tonight it almost blazed against his night vision, a red so intense it was almost pink. The waving branches were like the flames of a blazing bonfire.
Callan slowed his pace enough to recover his voice. “Think that’s the tree?”
Possibly. I have never been much of a botanist. It is certainly white—or would be under normal circumstances. But whether that makes it a white oak, I do not know.
“Only one way to find out.” Callan cupped his hands to his mouth. “Veritas! Come out and face me!”
“You make it sound as if this is a challenge of combat, Avatar Callan,” a voice said, and Veritas stepped out from behind the tree. “I promise you, this is very much not anything of the sort. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Reaching to one side, the other avatar dragged Sworv into view.
“Ah, ah,” they said, waiving a dagger in Callan’s direction as he took an involuntary step forward. “No sudden movements, please. We wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstandings of intent, now would we?”
“What do you want, Veritas?” Callan took another step forward, but slowly this time. And then another. The distance between them gradually diminished.
“I thought my letter clear enough. Per the terms laid out in the Accords of Divinity, I offer you the opportunity to ransom back this priest. A simple matter, with a simple outcome. Either yes... or no.”
Callan frowned, taking another step closer. He was only about ten or fifteen feet away now. This close, he could make out the gag stuffed in Sworv’s mouth and see that his eyes were wide with fear. All four of the lud’s arms were pinched together behind him, either tied or held in place by the other avatar.
“Of course I want him back. So hand him over.”
“Ah, but you haven’t heard my terms yet, Avatar Callan.” Veritas pulled Sworv closer to them and ran the dagger down his cheek. “And I would hate to see anything happen to this one. They’re so loyal to you, after all. In fact, I’m certain it was their loyalty that drove them to run away from you in the first place.”
With their mask, it was impossible to see the other avatar’s expression, but Callan knew they must be sneering beneath. It was all he could do to keep his anger in check. “What do you know about anything, Veritas? I was the one who sent him out of the plateau.”
“Oh? A strategic retreat, perhaps? Send your priests to prepare the way for you?”
“It was for your benefit, actually.” Callan relished the flicker of hesitation that came over Veritas, then continued, “You were the one who said we needed a neutral party for the next contest. My priest was off to find one.”
“How very noble of you, Avatar Callan. I could almost think that you actually believe this farce of a contest to be anything but. Almost.”
Callan frowned. “What are you talking about? Xeph? What’s he talking about?”
I’m certain I have no idea, mortal.
“Oh, don’t act so coy.” Veritas pressed the dagger deeper into Sworv’s neck. A line of blood ran towards his collar, barely visible under the light of the moon.
“No, really, Veritas. Neither Xeph nor I know what you’re talking about.”
Veritas paused. They studied Callan for a moment. “You’re serious.”
“I mean, yeah?”
“This contest between us is nothing more than a stalling tactic. I don’t know what Athakolu offered for you to make the long journey here, but you will not find her so generous once the goddess’s armies descend upon us both with their full might. She will turn on you, as she once did myself.”
Callan gaped. “That’s what this is about? You think I’m working for Athakolu?”
“So you deny it?”
“Of course I deny it! Because it isn’t true!” He threw up his hands. “Not only have I never met this Athakolu, I’ve never even been to the north of the Badlands.”
Be careful, human, do not give too much away, Xeph hissed the warning in his ear. Callan ignored him.
“That—do you speak truth?” Veritas seemed momentarily stymied by the revelation. Callan used the opportunity to creep a little closer. All he needed was an opening. Get the avatar away from Sworv, the dagger from his neck...
Veritas shook their head. “It matters not. Knowing or unknowing, you will not interfere in my work here, not when I’m so close to victory.”
“If you really think Athakolu is on their way here, why stick around?” Callan considered his options. Wurmchain was out, obviously. Shape Stone wouldn’t stop the dagger in time. Maybe a well-placed Stone Fling?
“I do not need to explain myself to you. Still, if the goddess does not yet know of my return, there is a chance... perhaps I still have time enough to...”
“Oh, she knows about you now,” Callan said. “We sent along Falchion to—”
He snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.
Mortal! Xeph roared inside his skull. Outside, Veritas tilted their head.
“I see. It appears this bargaining is of even more importance than I thought. Very well, let us begin. You wish your priest returned, yes?”
“I already told you that I do, Veritas.”
“Then here are my terms.” Veritas hauled Sworv so close his cheek almost rubbed against the avatar’s mask. “Depart this plateau and never return. Declare yourself the loser of our little contest, and I’ll allow you and your priests free passage away. Take the mayor with you. Her son and his family can remain, as I doubt they’ll pose much opposition to me now. But you and the mayor must depart immediately.”
Callan stared at the other avatar, stupefied. His mouth flapped open and closed. Finally, he managed to speak. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Is the life of one priest is worth so little to you?” The dagger dug in deeper, and Sworv let out a muffled moan. “There are other followers in this world. Seek elsewhere. Forget this worthless little town. I promise you’ll be happier for it.”
“If it’s so worthless, why don’t you leave? Seriously, what in the Hell is even keeping you here?”
“That is my business. Final chance, Avatar Callan. Give me your word that you will leave, or this one’s life is forfeit.”
Callan could tell the argument was pointless. He was only about five feet away now, maybe less. A quick enough lunge might close the distance in time.
“Surely we can make some other deal—” he began, already reaching for Stone Fling’s power inside him. He’d have to be fast, faster than he’d ever been in his life.
“No. We shall not.” And without further warning or preamble, Veritas slammed the dagger home into Sworv’s neck.