It took some persuading, but Yarrex eventually calmed down. It was as Soela predicted, Yarrex was willing to give Shurn the benefit of the doubt (and a meal cooked by his wife) in exchange for his help.
The problem? Spirits kept disturbing his mill. Several perianths slipped in each night and caused a ruckus banging on his tools. The little creatures harassed him any time he went down before dawn trying to poke his eyes out. Perianths were lowly plant spirits that had gained some semblance of sentience. Some were mischievous, some were hostile, and all of them shared an intense dislike for humans.
Yarrex was surprised at how easily Shurn agreed to get rid of them. By all accounts it should have been suspicious, the banished troublemaker showing up looking like miles of bad road and promising to deal with spirits in exchange for some food. But Yarrex was an easygoing man and didn’t think too much of it.
His wife however, had other ideas.
That night, Yarrex and his wife looked out from their house up the hill. The stream flowed past and down into the waterwheel. Near the waterwheel was the cabin with a small light on.
“Hones’ly woman, I already moved all the good tools from the shed. If’n he was gon’ to steal anythin’ it wouldn’ matter anyhow! We might as well just get some sleep, let the child do as does. We’ll see what happens on the morrow!”
His wife glared at him.
“Hush you!” she hissed “Somethin’ aint right wi’ that child, e’s too confident. How would e’ know how to get rid of spirits eh? The lazy good fer nothin, I think e’s up to somethin and I’m not goin t’bed til I find out what it is!”
At that moment, a dull light flashed on the far side of the cabin, just beyond where they could see.
After a few seconds a small storm of faint lights erupted from behind the cabin.
Husband and wife looked at each other, then began to sprint downhill. A minute or two of panting and cussing later and they found a sheepish looking Shurn looking bewilderedly at them.
“Um” he said, rubbing the back of his neck “I think you’ll be fine with the spirits from now on. At least, the ones that were here.”
They just stared at him.
Earlier. . .
Shurn waited for sunset. It was surprisingly easy to sit in place and wait for hours on end. He had never had much patience for sitting still, but after the harrowing experiences he’d had it was easy. Not that he’d done nothing. A few minutes were spent with a small ax used for splitting wood. He used the ax to whittle some lines into the floor, walls and ceiling and supporting beams at various points throughout the cabin and around the outdoor area used for wood-splitting. The remaining time was spent sitting in the cabin and meditating. He’d never had much use for meditating. Now however it was thoroughly enjoyable.
Memories of entertaining crowds of children with his juggling and antics came to mind. Wrapping a swollen leg with potent poultices. Reading the lines of fate for a young girl, instructing her to be careful of the nobility. Her fate had been predominantly one of being taken by a spoilt young master as a servant. Unlike most fortune tellers, Khaba had been a true soothsayer, able to read the ebbs and flows of time. Useful as it was, it made him appear mad to most people and he’d been reduced to a beggar, too lost in the whorls of fate to appreciate his deteriorating circumstances.
Shurn was jolted by a sudden harsh buzzing sound coming from outside the cabin. He got up and calmly walked out. There were three hazy glowing shapes flitting about, smacking into the walls, beams and ceiling of the outdoor wood-working area.
The markings he’d carved weren’t for show. Ursum knew a thing or two about Perianths and their weaknesses. The simple carvings did not require one to be sorcerer or rune-master to infuse, and they acted as lures for the tiny spirits. Whenever they got near the Perianths would be drawn like bees to honey. They would then realize they were being tricked by the odd flow of natural power in the air, and begin to fly away, only to fly straight into another lure. The repeated lures confused the small creatures to no end, causing them to buffet the surroundings like disoriented flies.
While it was quite funny to watch, Shurn didn’t waste any time. He quickly moved to the nearest lure on the floor and scuffed it with his foot, releasing the minute amount of power it contained. The closest Perianth froze for a moment in mid air before diving straight at him. He barely had time to widen his eyes before it was on him darting and scratching for all it was worth.
It wasn’t worth much. Shurn slapped the tiny thing and it flew in a dramatic arc and landed with a tiny thwup a few feet away, completely stunned.
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The others were still disoriented by the lures. One by one Shurn scuffed the lures and smacked the little nuisances down as they tried to attack him. Collectively they could muster quite a bit of power, but each individual Perianth was nothing but a large insect and hardly a threat at all.
After only a minute there were six stunned plant-spirits twitching on the ground in front of Shurn.
After his bad day Shurn had lots of new experiences to draw on. He knew that Perianths could only have a few reasons to disturb this place night after night. Either one of their kind was trapped here, or something was disturbing the local flow of natural power in the area which would disturb their homes if left unchecked. Or they were just being mischievous.
In any case, first demonstrating his knowledge of nature runes and the summary beatdown would cow them into submission. If they were just being annoying this should chase them off. If they were attempting to free a spirit in the area they would head straight there after being roughed up. If it was a natural flow issue. . . well he’d deal with that if it happened.
The small spirits stirred. Now that they were still they were easier to make out, looking like glowing transparent dandelion seeds that had taken humanoid shape. They formed a huddle and began to buzz and twitter angrily.
Shurn wasn’t having any of it. He began to scratch another lure into the ground in front of him. As one, the spirits chirped in fright and took wing, heading towards the back of the cabin.
Smirking to himself, Shurn followed at a respectable distance, his boots crunching on the loose bits of wood and dust in his path.
As it turned out, they were trying to shift a large shovel behind the cabin. It looked to have been tossed aside casually and hadn’t been moved in at least a few weeks.
Sure enough, pinned beneath the shovel was a tiny faded pinprick of a spirit. It was only visible due to the near pitch darkness. Perianths rarely ventured out during the day as they were prime food for birds and other small predators.
Shurn reached down, scattering the little spirits in a small explosion of lights and chirps, and plucked the shovel from the ground. Immediately the creatures darted back toward the faded one, pulled it into the air and whisked away without giving him a second look.
The next second a huffing and puffing Yarrex and his plumpy wife rounded the cabin, clearly having run straight from their house in their nighties. Shurn stared at them for a few seconds before saying, a bit sheepishly,
“Erm. . . I think you’ll be fine with the spirits from now on. At least, the ones that were here.”
They just stared.
Finally, the plumpy woman spoke up, still panting for breath
“Ey’ now, how d’you know they won’ be back? And how’d you know ow’ to get rid of em’ in anycase? An’ why-”
She was cut off by Yarrex as the big man shushed her.
“Leave ‘im be, his secrets is his own.” turning to Shurn he said “We’re right grateful for the ‘elp kid, prhaps we was wrong about ye. Look, d’ye have a place to stay?”
Shurn rubbed the back of his neck. Yarrex snorted.
“Didn’ think so if Soela sent you ‘ere like that. You can take the cabin bed till y’get back on yer feet. Don’t cause any trouble and you can stay. Gnight to ye.” He inclined his head slightly and stumped away to the house, wife in tow.
Somewhere in the woods:
I feel something stirring in Fate. It is difficult for me to see, to concentrate. It can’t be that bad right?
Bishop Farevar - The Sword of Gens
Bishop Alexander Farevar could feel a headache coming on. He strolled across his opulent office and stared out the resplendent gilded windows overlooking his city. He had lived here for the past one hundred and thirty years, keeping the faith and doing his duty as Overseer of this small backwater.
This was now in jeopardy. Mostly the farmers who lived in this region saw him as a fatherly sort of figure. A little harsh, a little strict, and very insistent on their coming to prayers, but overall a grand patriarch and protector of the area. He had personally defended the area against demons and beasts on more than one occasion saving many lives.
This was all fine. Until the cursed vision came. A divine vision had revealed itself to him. Every member of the clergy was trained to receive such visions, visions that came from the gods themselves. Naturally Farevar was aware that the gods were not actually divine, but so far above the residents of this world that they may as well be. The difference was that a true god would be omnipresent and omniscient while these gods were not. But such was the fate of this world. He had already lived several times longer than ordinary mortals and would live a lot longer so long as he kept his oaths.
One of those oaths was to obey. Specifically, to obey visions sent to him by the gods.
Even now after several hours he saw it replaying in his mind, nearly indistinguishable from any true memory. He saw himself laying waste to a village a few days north of the city. With extreme prejudice he cut down every single living soul in the village, stamping on their skulls to ensure they were dead. A strange fox-like beast fought him exhibiting a shocking power that no beast in this province should have. After a heated battle the beast fell. Finally, a man faced him. A boy really. He was scrawny and had a shifty face. The kind of child he knew would give him trouble. The boys eyes burned with anger.
Here the vision sharpened. This was it. The reason the gods had selected him. In the boy's hand was something indistinct, blurry. It exuded a terrifying aura that left him in a cold sweat every time he saw it. After a brief exchange he saw the boy, dead at his feet, the Sword of Gens rammed through his heart. The blurry object was wrapped in a sealing treasure from the vaults and brought to the Inquisitorium for summary purgation.
In general, Farevar had no trouble with destroying cursed objects and those who wielded them. The fox creature was clearly corrupted and deserved to be put down. The boy was tainted as well. But the rest of the village didn’t appear sullied in the slightest. Was there purpose in killing them?
He shook his head to clear it. He made his trip to the lower vaults. He brought back a box made entirely of jade gemstone. In his right hand he carried the Sword of Gens. He donned a dark cloak and hood. Death would visit this place soon.
The heavens demanded it.