Xeph let out a pained sigh as Callan came to a halt in front of Rym. Such a tragic waste of life.
Honestly, Callan couldn’t disagree. The yeth man looked even more malnourished and strung out than the last time he’d been here. Dark rings circled his eyes, so large they made him look like a humanoid raccoon, and there was a quiver to his movements, as if the simple act of sitting was difficult for him.
Rym continued staring blankly. After waving his hand in front of the yeth’s face, Callan reached down and gave his shoulders a shake.
“Rym. Rym! You in there?”
Chronostasis, Xeph noted. I have not seen a case this bad since my own avatar, near the very end. He... may not return again.
“In other words, we’re at another dead end.” Callan couldn’t help but chuckle. “So much for your ‘foolproof’ plan. Dead in the water before it even began.”
Perhaps. We shall have to simply wait and see.
“Exactly how long do you expect us all to stay here?” Callan gestured at the camp. The tent barely qualified as shelter, and anyway it would only fit one regular person or both Kivi and Paeral if they really snuggled up. If Rym had any food supplies, they were well hidden.
“We will investigate the surrounding area,” Kivi said, as if reading Callan’s mind. She and Paeral backed into the trees, leaving him alone with the comatose yeth.
“Great.” Callan dropped onto the log bench beside Rym. The bench jiggled, sending Rym swaying from side to side, but he didn’t fall over. Some internal force in his body apparently managed to keep him upright.
A pipe lay on the bench as well, the bag of flux on the ground next to it. There was significantly less of the drug in the bag than there had been the last time.
Reaching down, Callan picked up the pipe and inspected it. The pipe was still warm.
Don’t even think about it, Xeph said, his voice an angry growl.
“I wasn’t! Besides, it probably wouldn’t even work on me.” He recalled how Rym had said most yeth were immune to flux’s effects. While their physiology was different from a human’s, Callan doubted it was that different.
It would work, actually.
“Really?” Callan frowned. “How do you know?”
Summon Wurmchain and tell me what you see.
Frowning, Callan did as his head-mate bade. He closed his eyes and watched as the tendrils of Wurmchain’s power formed around him, as elusive as ever.
And beside him glowed Rym, a confused mass of gray undulating in on itself.
Callan opened his eyes. “He has those transatlantic conduits, or whatever.”
Transcendental conduits, but yes. Flux utilizes them to create its chronodissociative effects. Without them, the substance is useless.
“Really? You don’t find that weird?” Callan asked. “Why are these conduits used by both gods and some random-ass powder?”
There are theories, but it is not anything I ever devoted a particular amount of research to. Though I did make a few inquiries after my avatar... but the answers were unsatisfactory. Ultimately I decided it was an area which I did not care to delve into too deeply.
He nodded at that. “Are there any other uses for these conduits?”
Several, actually, though most are of only a passing interest to us. Possessing the power of a god as you do, I can facilitate most of the functions more easily through your interface that others might struggle their entire lives to master. Still, it may be of interest to you to know that—
Whatever it was Xeph thought might or might not interest him would have to wait. Rym chose that moment to return to his senses.
The yeth’s eyes lost their haze, and he drew in a deep breath. Turning, he regarded Callan with curiosity. “I... Callan, yes? Sorry, I... have you been here long?”
“No, not long at all.” Callan tried to give him a reassuring grin. The expression seemed to put Rym at ease.
“Is something the matter in the village? Did my... my family send you?”
It occurred to Callan that he should probably inform the man about his sister’s death, but right now he didn’t want to lose any more of Rym’s focus. He pushed the problem to the back of his mind for later.
“Actually, I came out here looking for you.”
“Oh?” Rym tilted his head in curiosity. His eyes unfocused for a moment, then snapped back. “Really?”
“Really. I—that is, we—need your help.”
----------------------------------------
Thirty Minutes Earlier
“Let me get this straight,” Callan said. “Your supposedly brilliant, foolproof plan—”
I never said brilliant. However, if you wish to label it as such...
“—Your plan, is to have me find Rym, and just... ask if he knows where Veritas is hiding."
Yes?
Callan pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Explain to me why you think that would in any way work. Assuming the guy even knows where Veritas’s temple is located, why would he tell us? His sister worked for the god, and his other brother isn’t exactly opposed to what Veritas is offering. Seems a shaky foundation at best.”
I did not receive the impression that the yeth was inclined to be sympathetic to Veritas. After all, if that was the case, why was he not in attendance at his brother’s meeting in the woods? He led us straight to it, then departed.
“Because he is literally a strung-out addict.” Callan said, trying and failing to keep his voice from rising.
Bah. He will tell us. I got his measure before. That is a yeth that loves his family. Why remain here, if he wasn’t? Strung out or not, should we invoke his mother’s name, he will aid us.
“Assuming he knows.”
He knows, Xeph said confidently. All the time he spends in the woods, there is no doubt in my mind that he hasn’t witnessed the passing of a priest or two. Or even Veritas.
“And assuming he’s alive,” Callan finished. “Even his sister wasn’t certain.”
That... hmm.
“So. Foolproof, huh?”
Oh, just wait, mortal. You’ll see the wisdom of my plan soon enough.
----------------------------------------
“Help?” Rym sounded confused, as if the very idea of someone needing his help was completely foreign to him. He swished his tongue across his teeth, as if tasting the word itself.
“Yeah, help,” Callan said gently, not wanting to lose the yeth’s attention. “We’re looking for something hidden in these woods. I thought maybe you would know where it is?”
“If this is about finding kolvsh mushrooms, I might know a place...”
“Actually, I was looking for something else.” Callan took a breath, debating how to put this. He hadn’t really come up with a plan of action on the way over. Xeph had suggested invoking Belinda or Alyssa’s name to gain sympathy, but the former still felt like a bad idea, and the latter... well, he wasn’t ready to embark down that road just yet.
Whatever. He just went with his gut. “Do you know of any buildings hidden out here? It would probably be pretty old and overgrown. Or maybe you’ve seen some people in robes gathering in the woods? Anything like that?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He waited why Rym stared at him in confusion. His eyes went unfocused, focused again, unfocused. They stayed that way.
Great. So much for that. Callan sighed and stood up.
Mortal? What are you doing?
“This is a waste of time, Xeph. This poor guy barely knows where he is, never mind anything else. We’re just going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
You mean combing the woods? That could take weeks!
“Look, I don’t like the plan anymore than you do, but unless you have a better idea—”
“I haven’t seen any buildings.” Rym’s voice caught Callan off-guard. He snapped his mouth shut and turned back. The yeth still had that unfocused expression, yet he continued speaking. “But I’ve seen plenty of people moving about the woods lately. Would that... be of help?”
“Uh, yeah. I think so.” Callan rubbed at the back of his neck. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was something. “Can you point us in the direction you’ve seen them traveling?”
“I can do better.” Rym rose and dusted himself off. Leaves and bits of forest debris rained down around him. He reminded Callan of those monks in the old stories that sat and meditated for days, until vines literally grew up around them. Except in Rym’s case, there wasn’t much meditation involved.
“Follow me.” The yeth man turned and started making his way through the forest. He was a bit shaky in his movements at first but seemed to gain confidence with each step.
“Just a second.” Callan hollered for Kivi and Paeral, and a moment later the two lud materialized out of the forest. If Rym was surprised by their appearance, he gave no indication, but just stood watching. Callan gave a nod. “Okay, ready.”
They headed further north, in the direction of the pythian tree. Though they were several hours away from it, the effect was already showing on the landscape, as the forest began to grow thinner around them, the trees shorter and with fewer leaves. Meadows began to appear increasingly more often, then simply became the norm. Soon, even the meadows began to fade as the grass grew spindly and irregular.
“How much further are we going?” Callan asked, after what felt close to an hour. Would Veritas really have set up a camp so far away from the village?
“Not much... I think.” Rym didn’t glance back. He paused, taking in the sparse surroundings, then turned their path slightly to the left.
Mortal, I am beginning to question the wisdom of this plan, Xeph said, as Rym stopped again, frowning at something in the distance for a full minute before setting off once more. His advanced chronodisassociation may strike again at any moment.
“Oh, now he worries about the plan,” Callan muttered to himself. The next moment, he almost bumped into Rym’s back as the yeth came to another halt.
“Are we there?” He glanced around, but didn’t see anything noteworthy. There was a small hillock in the distance that could potentially have hidden a camp, but they’d practically have to be on top of it before they’d know for certain.
“Almost. Before we get there, I have a request of you.”
“Uh, okay?” Callan suddenly had a bad feeling.
“After I show you, I’d like for you to accompany me back to camp.”
Callan immediately relaxed. Of course, the guy was probably just worried about getting home in one piece in his current condition. “Oh, sure, I can do that—”
“And stay until I’m gone.”
“...Wait, what?”
Rym turned, smiling at him shyly. “I know I don’t have long. My... episodes are getting worse. I’ve seen the end coming for a while. Each use of flux is drawing me further away from this world.”
He stared over Callan’s shoulder into the distance. “When we return, I intend to take what remains of my supply. I’ll travel longer and further than I ever have before. With luck... I simply won’t return.”
“You’re asking me to watch you kill yourself.” Callan felt his stomach twist into knots at the words. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Whether you do or not, my time here is almost at an end. I won’t be killing myself so much as living my life to the fullest one last time. But... I’d rather not do it alone.” The yeth looked down, his expression clouded.
“I’m sorry, but—”
Mortal.
Callan resisted the urge to snap at his head-mate. “What, Xeph?”
I think we should do as the yeth asks. Look at him. A slight breeze could knock him over. So why not grant him this last dignity he is asking for?
“Not sure there’s much dignity to be had here,” Callan said, though his heart wasn’t really in the argument.
Then do it for me. Please.
“Gah. Fine.” He turned his attention back to Rym. “Where is the camp you mentioned?”
“Over there. I... I hope it is what you’re looking for.”
Rym led them up the small hill, and on the other side they did indeed find the remains of... something. Callan didn’t think the word “camp” was appropriate here, but clearly the area was being used by a number of people for some purpose or other. A fire pit twice the size of Rym’s dominated the center, and there were several semi-permanent structures built around the edges. Callan wondered about that until he heard the snort coming from inside one of them. Dvoraks.
“I think this is the place,” he said, turning to Kivi.
“On that, I agree, Avatar. However, where is Ulfa?” She indicated the otherwise quiet and empty area below.
“Maybe she heard us coming and hid?” He glanced at the buildings. Any one of them could have been hiding the errant avatar.
“Perhaps, but I do not believe that is Veritas’s style.”
“Let’s find out.” Callan turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ulfa! Veritas! Come out and let’s finish this!”
The words echoed through across the prairie, but there was no movement down below. Callan called a few more times, just to be certain, but when no one appeared, he gave a shrug. “Guess nobody’s home.”
“In that case, I suggest that Paeral and I remain here,” Kivi said. “We can watch from a safe distance for Ulfa’s return, and follow her should she leave again.”
“I don’t know, not sure I like the idea of leaving you two undefended here.”
“Then don’t leave us undefended.” The lud girl said it like the statement was obvious. Callan frowned.
“I’m not following.”
“Establish another temple here. Or I can do so myself, since Xeph-Zul-Karatl has said it is possible for me. Even if the range is small, we can at least call upon our powers to defend ourselves.”
That actually isn’t a terrible plan, Xeph noted. She will need to utilize any memory shards quickly after consuming them, or rely on her own internal supply of Conviction, but it should be possible.
“Kivi has Conviction too?” Callan asked in surprise.
Of course. What do you think the transcendental conduits are providing?
“Wait, is that where my own Conviction comes from?” Callan shook his head. This was more information than he’d been expecting to uncover. “I just assumed those were from you.”
I can’t do all the heavy lifting, human. Some work requires using your own innate supply of energy. I merely help facilitate its conversion to divine power.
Callan started to ask more questions, then thought better of it. There would be more time later. He turned back to Kivi. “Xeph says it’s possible, so I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
He fished a handful of memory shards out of his pocket and handed them over. “I’ll be back as quick as I can. In the meantime, don’t do anything foolish, okay?”
“You forget who you are speaking to.” Kivi grinned at him. “I believe foolish choices are more your area of expertise.”
“Oh, ha ha. Just be careful, okay?”
“Of course, Avatar.”
Callan turned back to Rym, who had been watching the exchange with the same unfocused expression as earlier. A moment later he snapped back. “Yes?”
“Thanks for the help, Rym. This is exactly what we were looking for.” Well, sorta, but he felt like giving the guy a win. “I can take you back now.”
“Oh, that is good. I need... it isn’t good for me to go too long without... I should get back.”
Callan frowned but said nothing. The yeth headed in the direction of Aos, and after a minute he followed after.
This plan still didn’t sit right with him, but there was nothing else to be done about it. Ultimately, Rym was an adult—more of one than Callan, in fact. He had to make his own choices.
That said, something did occur to Callan. He sped up a bit so he could walk alongside the yeth man. “I don’t know if you heard, but there was a... conflict in Aos last night. Your mom isn’t the mayor anymore.”
Rym glanced at him, his expression neutral. “Oh? Is she alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. She just got voted out, that’s all. Some guy name Torveld is in charge now.”
“Oh. That is nice for Torveld.”
“My point is,” Callan continued, “You could probably go back home now, if you wanted. Back to Aos, I mean. Your mom can’t exile you anymore. At the very least, you might think about going back and saying goodbye before... you know.”
Rym seemed to consider that for a moment, but eventually he shook his head. “I do not think most of the villagers would be happy to see me, Torveld included. The decision to exile me was not entirely my mother’s. As for seeing my family, the only one who still cares to speak to me is Alyssa. How is she, by the way? I know the mayor... my mother had hopes for her future.”
And here it was. The moment of truth. Words danced across Callan’s tongue, begging to be released. Ultimately he swallowed them back down and went with a half-truth instead. “Alyssa’s gone. I don’t think she’s coming back.”
“Truly?”
Callan nodded, not trusting his voice further. Rym looked away, but there was a smile on his face.
“In truth, I’m happy. While I would like to have said goodbye to her, I know she remained mostly for my sake. I have brought her much pain and trouble over the last few years. It is good she can live her dream at last.”
“Yeah. Great.” Callan just stared ahead and didn’t say anything further.
They arrived back at Rym’s camp in what felt like much less time than it took to leave. Callan stood awkwardly by as the yeth rekindled his fire, then set himself in front of it, holding his pipe. The nearly empty bag of flux lay next to him.
“Thank you again, Callan.” Reaching into the bag, Rym removed the remaining flux and began stuffing it inside the pipe. He had a calm expression on his face. Not resigned. More... at peace.
“You sure you want to do this?” Callan asked.
“I’m certain. I’ve been a bother to everyone in my life long enough. All I am doing now is fulfilling the prophecy my mother made when she threw me out.” He glanced up. “Once my consciousness departs, you’re free to leave. I won’t be coming back this time.”
He said it with such certainty that Callan couldn’t find it in him to argue. So he nodded, and sat across from Rym as he lit his pipe and inhaled deeply. A minute later, it fell from the yeth’s limp fingers, still smoldering slightly.
You should put him in the tent, out of the elements, Xeph said. Callan nodded.
Gathering the emaciated yeth in his arms, he ducked into the tent. There wasn’t much inside, just an old crate with several personal belongings, including a small wooden figurine, and a ratty pile of blankets at the far end.
Callan set Rym down, then grabbed the top blanket and pulled it away. Something beneath it caught his attention. A flash of color amid the browns and grays of the tent.
“The Hell?” Callan pushed the other blankets aside. Underneath, he found the purple robes of a priest. The same as those worn by the other cultists of Veritas. He stood there, half hunched over, staring at it.
“What does this mean?” he asked at last.
I don’t know. Maybe the yeth found them. Or his sister left them here. Whatever the reason, we’ll not find out the answer from him.
“Yeah, good point. Still weird, though.” Covering the robes back up, Callan returned to tucking the blanket around Rym. The yeth simply laid there unmoving through the entire process, eyes staring sightlessly. His breathing was shallow and irregular. It seemed to be growing worse with each passing second, though that could have been Callan’s imagination.
Once the yeth was sufficiently secured, Callan set off back towards the others. He forced himself not to look back as Rym’s camp slipped from view.
It took a few minutes to find the right trail, though Callan knew ultimately he just needed to walk in the direction of the pythian. Hard to get lost with that particular landmark visible for miles. Eventually, he spotted the hillock hiding Veritas’s camp in the distance.
Kivi flagged him down before he reached it. He found her and Paeral camped around a large stone, which apparently she was using as a makeshift altar.
“Any sign of Ulfa?” he asked.
“None, Avatar. Though we’ve avoided getting too close until you returned.”
“Smart. Well, no time like the present. Let’s go poke around, shall we?”