Rocks showered down as a sandaled foot scrabbled for purchase on the shattered golden stone. Finally it found an anchor on a firm piece of masonry and with a few baby swears, the woman hefted herself to the top of what had once been a large building. Now, it was nothing but a ruin. The ruin itself was of very little interest but it would give her a commanding view of the rest of the city.
Shading her eyes against the noonday glare, she gazed over the ruins of great Zephron. Once, she knew, it had stretched forth like the hand of God. Millions of people had lived in this fertile oasis, blooming with desert life. But then a long war had been fought and had ended with the destruction of this gem. The city had been invaded and sacked, and the furious invaders had poisoned the oasis and sown the ground with salt. The water had probably cleansed itself over time but by then, all the people had gone. All that was left was ruins.
I'd best hope the water has cleansed itself or I will have a problem. The woman thought morbidly. Although it would not be an insurmountable one. She was descended from the Il, desert dwellers who felt they were the only truly civilized people in the world. She knew their ways and knew all the tricks to finding water in a desert. Not that such would help her in the deep desert, but this was a gentler place. Orienting herself, she tried to decide where the palace would have been. That would be where she would find the best pickings.
There. She finally decided. There was a larger ruin to her South. She might be right or she might be wrong, but it was a place to start. More brick fell free as she made her way back down and retrieved her camel, who was busy munching on a few desert shrubs. Leading the beast with one hand she walked through the broken, deserted streets towards the centre of the city.
Her name, in the tongue of the Il, was Ye'Valhar'Tomisha which, roughly translated, meant Sweet Morning Flower. She loathed that name and when a non-Il man had nicknamed her Magpie for her black hair and white skin she'd taken to the name with relief. She no longer had much use for the Il and they had less for her. It was sad to be estranged from her family but she would not marry, have children and be Sweet Morning Flower for them. It was not in her nature.
In keeping with her new identity, her hair was cut short. She wore it chin length, cut as sharply as if by a razor. It was glossy black, without even the slightest hint of curl and went well with her near-white skin. For an Il, white skin was rare and highly desirable. That had been a nuisance when she was growing into womanhood.
She stopped many times in her trek to excavate promising sites. She was not an archaeologist, a true studier of ancient things. No, Magpie was a pot hunter. She dug up ancient treasures to sell them to the highest bidder and had a vast collection of wealthy contacts that would pay top dollar for such things. But she was far more organized than most such and carefully noted down every find in a small, leather bound book. She also noted the general location and other things surrounding the object. Most of her clients wouldn't care but a few did, and it was always good to have the information handy.
And I wish I were more than a mere pot hunter. Magpies' lips twisted in wry amusement at herself as she put the book away and picked up a small pot, carrying it to the camel. The colored designs on it had once been bright but now they were faded with age and owned a beautiful patina. I wish I were an archaeologist. She would have been more than pleased to spend all her day carefully sorting and categorizing items such as this. But she was Il and a woman. None of the great schools would take her even if she could afford their fees, which she could not. They were not for such as her. She shrugged to herself and kept moving. There were more riches to be found in this forgotten ruin.
The ruins of the city were truly forgotten. Magpie reflected on that as she trudged onwards, oblivious to the heat. The great scholars thought that Zephron was a myth. She had only discovered otherwise from diligent research into musty tomes, many of them written in ancient tongues. She'd always had a gift for languages and picked them up easily. By now she even had a smattering of runes and hieroglyphics. All of which meant she had beaten her fellow pot hunters to this virgin territory.
Not that there's many of us. She mused as she finally reached the larger building. It's a dangerous life. No civilization most of the time and if you don't do your research you'll never find anything of value or never recognize it when you do. And figuring out who to sell to is just a nightmare. Magpie herself had gone about that the hard way. It had taken years of patient prying and wooing before she'd amassed her stable of customers. Drawing herself out of her reflections, she looked over the ruined building. It was even larger than she had thought but it was quite thoroughly trashed. Sighing to herself, she tied up her camel and pulled free her excavating kit. It included such wonders as a good hand shovel, a broom and a dustpan. This would be a lot of work. At least I might find water. She sniffed the air, detecting the hint of moisture. The camel had scented it too and was looking around longingly. If he got too thirsty he would break her ties and find his way to water, but that was fine. She did not plan to be gone that long and it was good that a camel could care for itself.
Climbing over the broken ruin with her kit was a chore but she was in fine condition. Magpie grunted in pain as a stone gouged her thigh, then blinked and bent down. There was an opening in the stone and to her surprise, there appeared to be a good bit of open darkness inside. Had part of this building survived intact? She carefully judged the opening before sitting down and easing herself inside. Kicking feet met nothing and she halted, gazing down and trying to judge the drop. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust but then she discovered the floor was nearly beneath her feet.
Idiot. Sighing at her own timidity, she dropped down and pulled down her kit after. But better safe than sorry. A broken leg would be a death sentence. That was the great danger of travelling alone and Magpie often wished she had a companion. But she did not trust the other pot hunters and the few outsiders she'd tried to bring into the trade hadn't had the fortitude for it. Sorting through her kit she pulled out a torch and set to lighting it with a flint and steel. It took time but with a bit of patient work the tinder dry cloth caught. Soon the wood blazed and she was able to see more clearly.
Silvery eyes widened in surprise and avarice at the appearance of the corridor. Brightly carved bas relief murals had been defaced and shattered but she could still see the places where gems had been plucked free and gold leaf had been stolen. A few gems had even been missed and she paused to remove them, setting the torch into a small foldable tripod to provide light for her work. They were only agates, which had probably been why the looters had passed them up. Flipping open her book she noted the place and condition of the stones before continuing, but despite her calm actions her heart was beating faster. This was a significant find. Only someone of great wealth could have decorations like this. Perhaps a King?
Do not get ahead of yourself. Magpie reminded herself as she snapped the book closed. There may still be traps. Burial tombs were notorious for them. Although she really didn't think this place would harbor traps – it had clearly been meant for use – it was still best to be cautious. However, that caution proved to be in vain. To her disgruntlement, Magpie quickly realized that the rest of the building she could reach had been quite thoroughly vandalized. Her agates were the only unbroken thing in any of the rooms. There were quite a few bones but none of them even had jewelry.
"Done in the sack. Damn soldiers." She said aloud as she tossed a femur aside. The bone hit the wall with an oddly hollow sound and she paused. "Hm?" She walked up to that wall and considered it. More stripped frescos, but there was another skeleton beside it. An arm was stretched out as if the victim had been reaching for something. Magpie's eyes narrowed and she pulled out a dagger, tapping the wall with her hilt. "Ah." The sound range distinctly hollow in a regular area. A secret door. She patiently examined and worked the wall. One of Magpie's great strengths was her ability to solve puzzles, and it did not fail her this day. The door slid open and she smiled in triumph, carefully examining the way for traps as she walked into the dark opening.
There were no traps. But soon, her torchlight became unnecessary. A dark red light burned ahead, reminding Magpie unsettlingly of blood. But curiosity and a kind of greed drove her onwards. Not a greed for money, which was nice but not a great priority to her. No, a greed for the beauty of ancient things and the joy they brought her. She loved that feeling and was always searching for the next beloved artifact that would ignite it again.
Magpie finally stepped into a new room and stopped in awe. This was a very large room, built with such great reinforcements that even the sack had not touched it. A great symbol was carved into the ground and she vaguely realized it was a species of Alchemy. What riveted her attention, though, was the great red gem sitting in the centre of that circle. It was perhaps the size of her two fists and throbbed with a brilliant life. Magpie suddenly realized she was walking over the circle and felt a dull alarm as her hand reached out to caress that living rock. But the fear could not compete with the fascination and she gasped as the stone suddenly vanished as if it was sucked into her flesh. Then there was a vast surge of weakness and she fell to her knees. Feeling faint, she reached into her pocket and found her book. She needed to note this. It might be her last words.
Central hidden temple. Philosopher's Stone. Absorbed into body. Do not feel good… Her pen scrawled a meaningless squiggle as she fell over into a dead faint.
And somewhere deep inside, voices laughed and screamed and shouted in the joy of having a body again.
Where am I? Magpie turned in a slow circle. She stood on the steps of a great building. Perhaps a temple or perhaps a palace, great pillars of marble reached for the sun and supported a roof that seemed as ethereal as lace. Great trellises of ivy grew over the stone, giving it a beautiful green carpet of life. Feeling dislocated and sick, Magpie looked down the stairs. Below her was a great square. People were walking across it in a leisurely fashion, stopping to talk and laugh. Vendors sold sweetmeats from little carts and children laughed and played. Yet they were not… right. Magpie swallowed as she realized that every one of them kept glancing at her from the corner of their eyes, when they thought she wasn't looking. Her silver eyes kept them from knowing the direction of her gaze, and she watched them from the corners of her eyes. She saw amused malice, envy and avarice on too many faces. Even little children were smiling malignantly at her.
And now they were beginning to gather. Magpie stepped back, unable to stop herself as the people below became more open in their stares. A whispering was starting and the square was becoming crowded. She shuddered faintly as she remembered the time she'd almost been caught and killed by a mob. Any Il who dared leave the desert had to worry about ignorant fools who thought them demons for their eyes. She almost would have preferred that sort of rage to this. Magpie was not certain what these people wanted of her but she feared it would encompass far more than her death.
Her back hit something and she jumped forward, whirling around with a squeak. There was a man there in the full regalia of an ancient King and he smiled at her disdainfully. Great red feathers bobbed as he moved his head to examine her. Behind him was arrayed nine men and women, each more splendid than the last. Magpie saw the tattoos on their bodies and knew them to be Alchemists, or what had passed for such in the ancient city of Zaphron.
"This is Zaphron." She suddenly knew that, with absolute certainty. Magpie turned her head to gaze out over the suddenly silent crowd. "As it was, before it died."
"Before it was murdered." The King said roughly and she turned her head to look at him again. He seemed bitterly angry at the reminder. "Before our great plan came to fruition. But now, you are here. Now we can finally have our revenge on the Xerxesians!" He snarled and Magpie slowly blinked as she realized he did not know.
"But you cannot." She said, with a gentleness that surprised even her. The King stared at her blankly, clearly unused to any commoner telling him what he could and could not do. "They are all dead. They vanished in a single night. No one really knows how, but the Xerxes empire is gone." There were rustles and murmurs in the crowd and Magpie somehow knew that they could sense her utter certainty. The King and the Alchemists exchanged glances, clearly unsettled by the news that their enemy was no more.
"I see." The King finally said before staring at her again. He meant to pierce her with his gaze but Magpie found herself less than impressed. He really wasn't much, this ancient King. Middle aged and balding, with a most definite paunch, he reminded her of nothing more than a petulant child. The alchemists were a bit more daunting but there was some kind of fracturing taking place. Magpie could sense them circling on each other, even though they did not move an inch. Searching for weaknesses. And she could also sense them circling her, far more effectively than the King could ever dream of doing. "But you are still here. And through you, we can finally attain the immortality we seek. You will give us your body."
"No." Magpie surprised even herself with how calm she sounded. "This body is mine. You cannot have it." Now she understood what was happening. A Philosopher's Stone was full of souls, she had gleaned that much from her research. These souls were determined to seize her body and live in her stead. At first they had been united in the thought of destroying Xerxes but now they were turning on each other, each hoping to be the triumphant soul. There could be only one winner in this contest but like a garrison holding a fort, Magpie held the high ground. It was her body…
Even as she thought that, she gasped in pain at the building pressure. The souls were uniting against her, determined to force her away so they could cannibalize each other. There had to be a way she could win! But there were far too many of them to face directly. She could not stop a million determined souls and the alchemists were very dangerous. Lines of fire and ice slashed at her and she rocked, barely maintaining her grip on the 'body' she had here. Then she realized it was unimportant and released it, letting the dream of Zephron dissolve as she devoted all her strength to shielding herself against the psychic storm.
This is futile. I cannot stop them and if I cannot stop them they will wear me out! Scrabbling for an answer Magpie tried to find something deeper. Beneath her a silver web opened, each strand singing gently. What is this? She reached out to pluck a strand and felt a momentary shiver. The alchemist souls paused and she sensed… trepidation? I understand. This is my life. This silver represented her body, the mortality it contained. Reaching down to seize the strands she shouted to the souls. This is my body! MINE! And if I can't have it, no one will! The pain was terrible as she began to unweave that silver web and she could feel the utter panic in the souls around her.
With a shocking suddenness and ultimate viciousness, they submitted. Magpie screamed and snatched her hands away from the strands as the power of the Philosopher's Stone became hers. Hers, and hers alone.
Then she fell into true unconsciousness.