‘Ker started slowly. It was a difficult subject to talk about. For anyone of the ‘Tj’Shea to relate the betrayal of the Clan Siev’Hac, and the horrible deaths of a reigning Mother and Father and all of their children would be hard. ‘Tj’Chin’Ker tried simultaneously to not tear up, and to not cringe. The slaughter had been as quick as it had been senseless, and the retaliation of Tj’El had been even more quickly achieved later that very night.

A Clan bracelet, a Eudach Fionnain Bann-laimhe, of exquisite weave, gold alloys of various colors amidst silver and bronze. It had depicted a Salmon jumping in the air over a crescent moon reflected in the running water of a stream, the symbols of Clan Siev’Hac, had been found by the eldest of ‘Tj’Chin’Ker’s brothers, ‘Tj’El, clasped in the cold and blood covered hand of ‘Tj’El’s nephew, ‘Tj’Paw’Zun, the man who had, up to an hour prior, held the throne and guided The People.

Wrath-filled, ,red eyed, and single-mindedly gathering up his most trusted allies and siblings, the entirety of Clan Siev’Hac old enough to be out of small clothes had died at Tj’El’s hands and the hands of those few warriors he took with him to do the deed in the dead of that very night; and so ‘Ker had related every detail he could remember ever having heard under the intense, questioning eyes, and piercing words of the living legend who was now sitting across the table from him.

Around the two, music played, and people drank, and enjoyed themselves little knowing of the tragedy being related from one man to the other in their midst. At some point Elgin’s drink had been topped off, or replaced, ‘Ker didn’t know which, hadn’t noticed the waitress’s return.

When he had finished Elgin sat simply sipping from the smoky, nutty syrup in his glass as he studied the table beneath his left hand.

Quietly, ‘Tj’Chin’Ker sat, lest he break what was obviously a mourning man’s moment in the shade cast by the tall memories of those he had lost.

In a quiet rumble void of emotion Elgin asked about the bracelet. “A Vine

Jewel?” He translated the literal words into the odd, slow and stilted form of English he used. Those are given to show a debt,” the too wide lips curled in a mockery of smiles. “That’s some marker.”

“It’s a dark joke among us… now, that the Father pays all debts.” He wanted to

laugh, it would have been easy to make the moment lighter, as he had done in the Land of

the People for hundreds of years; but now was not the moment for levity, this man was

only now beginning to mourn for those dead, an age now passed and gone.

Curiosity clear on his broad features, he asked, “You went on this raid? You saw all of this?”

“No.” He said simply. “I was just old enough to raid at the time, but I’m not really one who experienced warriors want at their backs. I have too many poor choices in my past and even back then too many in my family wouldn't take me raiding.

When Elgin finally looked up again to ‘Ker, he asked with his own eyes now reddened, “Who is now Father among you?”

“My eldest brother who used to be called ‘Tj’El, himself, now rules the ‘Tj’Shea as Father.” Though asked in this new upstart tongue, ‘Ker answered in the older one, the formality made the tears fighting to be born move much more slowly in embarrassing him. He had yet to shed any, and didn’t want to either, but this man across from him, this legend, was now firmly held in the harsh, gripping hands of grief. ‘Ker thought it might be contagious, and squirmed where he sat, anticipating the Hands of Grief closing around his own frame at any moment. .

The Tinker looked up at the ceiling for some sign, and slowly inhaled three times;

each breath was more than ‘Ker knew he could have ever held. “He is a good man; he

would do well as Father.”

“And he has…”

With a squint and a clearing of his throat, Elgin interrupted ‘Ker, waving his

finger in the air as if tracking a fly buzzing about the younger man’s head and switching

back to English, “You have some strong spells wrapped around you, boy.” The abrupt change in subject caught ‘Ker off guard.

“I’ve had some rough times getting here today.” An eyebrow twitched at the memories of cold dungeons and fiery gates. Smiling then, his face suddenly felt more at home here where music played and people drank and talked, ‘Ker could chuckle at the understatement. “The Father set a curse on me that I should give you his message within

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

two years of passing through the gate. The second is one I won’t speak of yet, some scars

are too new.” He knew the Dancer would respect his silence on the subject of him and his

wife’s rings.

“I see the curse; it’s a bad one, but the beginnings of its weave unravel as we sit

Here. Wait…” The little man waved his hands in the air in front of both himself and ‘Ker, faster than ‘Ker could follow the motions of those blocky hands. Hard, stony, gritty surfaces pressed in close about his body, then suddenly dissipated without a trace. The quality of the light around the two men had shifted and twisted with the gestures and the changes in pressure. Tangles of lines of light and power wrapped about his hands and arms, and when he looked down at himself, ‘Ker saw more of the pulsing lines wrapped and twining about his person. Some of them bled off from him towards the eastern wall of the tavern room in which he sat.

It was a Delving.

He had never seen a Delving produced by another. And he had never before heard of even the idea of a Delving done on another being shown to that person. His eyes widened with shock at the skill and power on display here.

Stark continued. “Anything left at the end of our little talk I’ll undo myself when I’m satisfied, if they haven’t gone on by then. I’ve ordered you a snack to go with the drink. You look thin to me, and without your Ovhmena, I’ll bet you feel naked, too.” Surprised, ‘Ker had to remember that this man in front of him knew everything about The People’s customs and ways, it was an adjustment.

It was true, his tattoos had been stripped from his body when the outer layers of his skin had been flayed from his body with flames in the crossing.

Pinching his features into a pursed lipped squinting scowl, Stark said, “It’s this third large spell that I’m worried about. I see you put it on yourself, and the tail trails off into the

ether. I would hate for somebody to track you with that blazing behind you like a giant neon road sign, all the way from Scotland. Then there is a fourth spell, small and subtle.” He poked a blocky index finger at the thin, black line of power with dark red edges that came from ‘Ker’s chest, disappearing slightly more than a handspan from his chest. “It’s a death spell much like the ring soul you wear wrapped around your fingers. But smaller, meaner; I don’t know who gave it to you. I don’t recognize her hand style. Definitely a woman’s spell, though. Her hand is all over the weave. Sloppy. Angry.”

Lifting his glass while not looking at all concerned, Stark then took a slow, satisfying sip, his eyelids lowering in pleasure as he paused in thought.

‘Ker didn’t know what to say, and to prove it he sat still saying nothing to his host. Mentioning the Ring Soul he wore wrapped about his hands was not only incredibly

hard for someone not in your immediate family to see, but the crime of the spell held

such harsh penalties; it was rude to mention such a thing out loud in polite company. He sighed as he thought of it.

Stark reacted, possibly thinking he knew what ‘Ker was getting maudlin about. “Boy, don’t be a ninny. I’ve done worse things in my life than you could ever have nightmares about, and I know more about the magics the ‘Tj’Shea use than they do. I started it all. All of it. Take a moment and remember that. If you're ever in doubt, Know that I’m not. They, you, all of you, use the magic forms I taught you all to use.”

He shook his unruly, salt-and-pepper head, remorseful to be presented with such a slow pupil.

“What worries me is the big charm you’ve saddled yourself with, it’s not a simple spell.

It is a harsh spell, a nasty spell, and the consequences of this albatross will haunt you.”

‘Ker would ask him later what an “albatross” was.

“You have tied yourself to another soul in the worst possible way. You have used the magic of your soul to create life, and subject someone to your will, and your will alone. I know this spell. It might be simple to do, but only the most powerful can pull it off, and nothing short of death, yours or theirs will break it. I don’t want to judge, I wasn’t there. But I don’t see what purpose that spell would have served that a lighter touch wouldn’t have done you better.”

The old man was getting incensed, now. While he had reverted to the language of

the People, his forceful delivery was bleeding over to the nearest tables.

Pausing for a breath, he closed his eyes, and murmured briefly. The noise of the surrounding tabled bled back to their original rhythm.

Slowing himself, Elgin took a long suffering breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. Those at the nearest tables resumed their merriment as if nothing had happened. If it had been a spell, no trace of it lingered beyond its use that ‘Ker could see. It went away without a sound or a trace of any kind.

‘Ker was still silent; the anger underlying the Dancer’s words hadn’t quite struck with the

force of solid blows, but ‘Ker was starting to feel the sting regardless. He didn’t know how to react yet, and had no clue he had been so wrapped in other people’s spells and ensorcelled.

“The smaller spell I’ll need to think about. Its patent you have had no clue it’s been there,

and I doubt you know who put it there. You might. You could tell me if you knew. It looks like a simple love charm, the kind children use. But I’ve never seen one so wound through with death before. This is sophisticated. Someone wants you to never be happy; somebody wants whoever you love to die. She’s not nice in the slightest, whoever this bitch is.”

Through the shaggy brush of wildly overgrown eyebrows he was staring at ‘Ker

like a tailor with an ill made suit, repairs would be costly… for someone. “I’ll help you with the Father’s curse, easy enough, almost gone now, and the little soul killer you don’t even know you have, too, I hate seeing nasty shit like that. But the others are of your own make, and you will have to tend those gardens yourself.”